Work Text:
I know that you're an artist,
you're the hardest one to deal with.
Everything that you conceal
is revealed on your canvas.
I.
“The Angel Strikes Again.” Dean said, reading the title out loud before throwing the newspaper across the room.
For years Dean had been the only serial killer in Tennessee. After all, wasn’t that the unspoken rule among murderers? One psychopath per city? Then a few months ago “The Angel” had appeared. A new serial killer who only killed people “who deserved it”, as some of the lesser read newspapers were saying. Didn’t matter that he was eating parts of them like a sicko. All that matter was he was taking other ones off the streets. There was even an “Angel” support group who were trying to encourage the cops not to go after him because he was helping them clean up. Dean would have had no problem with this guy if he had just kept out of his city. Now, Dean’s masterpieces were being pushed to second or third page news. He was old news because of this asshole, and that did not sit well with Dean. “The Angel” had to be stopped.
II.
“Dean. Listen to yourself.” Sam said over the phone. “You do understand how crazy you sound right? A murderer hunting another murderer to well…murder him.”
“I know Sammy, but I’ve put too much effort and work into this to be pushed to the second page! Listen, I’ve figured out his MO. I’m pretty sure I know who his next target will be.”
“Dean. Maybe you should take this as a sign. Go into retirement. Go back to a normal life. I’ll be a lawyer soon, and I don’t want to be defending your ass from death row.”
“Lawyers are for people stupid enough to get caught. Keep track of the paper this week. You’ll soon see “Angel Crucified” on the front page headline.”
“Dean…” Sam said exasperated.
“Gotta go Sammy boy. Thanks for the pep-talk.” He said, hanging up before Sam could get another word out.
III.
Castiel followed the case in the newspaper. The man ran a red light and crashed into girl who was crossing the intersection. He was going 100 mph, and she died on impact, her bones turned to mush, her body mangled. It didn’t matter that he didn’t try to stop, or that he was drunk and high. It didn’t even matter that she was only 18 and had her whole life ahead of her. No, all that mattered was that he was filthy rich and money talked. He got a slap on the wrist, and the ability to complain to the reporters how his poor Mercedes was totaled. Castiel couldn’t let him walk, and possibly ruin someone else’s life. He had to be stopped.
He waited a few days, until the press stopped hounding the man, before picking the lock, and walking inside. When he closed the door and turned on the lights, he saw that he wasn’t alone. His victim was already tied to a chair, his mouth gagged, and on the couch was another man, drinking a beer.
The other man put the beer bottle down on the table and stood up, giving a stretch before turning to face Castiel. He had brightest green eyes that Castiel had ever seen, and the cutest array of freckled spotting his cheeks.
“You know,” the man finally said. “I’ve been waiting for you for two days. It’s rude to keep people waiting.”
“I didn’t know I had an appointment.” Castiel finally said, putting his bag down on the floor, not breaking his eye contact with the other man. “Who the heck are you?”
IV.
Dean was very surprised when the other man walked through the door. Not to sound stereotypical, but he had expected the “Angel” to look like a creep, not a sex god. The man had the most beautiful blue eyes, and if Dean wasn’t stuck staring into their depths like he was looking at the most beautiful ocean in the world, he would have laughed at the surprised expression on the other’s face. Finally he was able to open his mouth.
“Name’s Dean. Dean Winchester, but you probably know me as “The Artist.””
“The artist?” Castiel said pausing. “As in the artist whose been tormenting people in and around the Belle Meade area for the past two years?”
“The one and only.” Dean said smiling.
“Why are you here?”
“You know, when someone gives you their name it’s rude to not give yours back. Were you raised in a barn?”
“Castiel.” he said glaring.
“Castiel. Ain’t that a mouthful, but it’s beautiful. It suits you.”
“Now that the false pleasantries are over, why are you here.”
“Ouch sweetheart. I can feel the frost from here. But I’m here because some newcomer is trying to step on my turf.”
“I wasn’t aware that this was your “turf.”” Castiel said using his fingers as quotes. “The city sign doesn’t say Deanopolis after all.”
Dean barked out a laugh, amusement sparking in his eyes. “I didn’t expect you to be so…well…you.” he said, using his hand to gesture at Castiel.
“So what? Is this an old fashioned showdown?”
“As much as I’d love to have a good ol’western quick drawer, I want to watch you work.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m curious.” Dean said shrugging, and he was. Dean had been planning on Castiel and getting out of here-wham bam thank you ma’am- but now a thrill went through him at the prospect of seeing this man kill someone in front of him. “From what I’ve read, you apparently have some smooth cutting skills. They think the “Angel’s” a surgeon or one of those morgue workers.”
Castiel shook his head. “Neither.”
V.
Castiel stood over the open grave as he watched the coffin get lowered into it. His family was mourning around him, saying their final goodbyes to his youngest sibling Anna. She was only twenty, and while she should have been out enjoying her summer break, she was soon going to be rotting in the ground. And it was all because of some rich frat boy at her school.
Last year while she was at a frat party he raped her. When she came out about it, the school covered it up saying that she had no proof. His family donated a lot of money to the school. He probably could have murdered someone, which he basically did, and they would have bent over backwards to help him.
Anna fell into a state of depression after that. She began wearing baggy clothes, didn’t eat, didn’t go to class, and locked herself in her room all day. Their parents finally pulled her out of school and sent her to a shrink but nothing helped. Then a few days ago, she climbed into the bathtub, slit her wrists, and let herself bleed out. She was the kindest person he’d ever known, and she didn’t deserve this. Much like he didn’t deserve to live for taking her away from them.
Castiel had been going to medical school to become an autopsy technician. Once he had killed the frat boy, he dropped out. He had found his true calling after all. He needed to rid
the world of other scum like him. He knew it would be risky if he got a job in the medical field, so he got a job at his local Gas-N-Sip. No one would suspect a Gas-N-Sip attendant to have training cutting up bodies. It was the perfect cover.
VI.
“So you’re just going to watch as I what? Cut this man up?”
“Yes. Just go about everything as you normally would. Pretend I’m not even here. You home the bacon, I’ll cook.”
Castiel looked at him confused. Dean thought that that the slight head tilt he gave was ridiculously adorable.
“You normally eat a part of them right? That’s your signature trademark. I’ve never had human before but I’ve heard it tastes like chicken, and I love chicken. Plus, I’ll try anything once. And hey, I’m also one hell of a cook.”
Castiel stood still for a moment contemplating. Is this really all Dean wanted? To watch him? If Dean had wanted to kill him he would have done so already. After all, he could definitely over power him. He wasn’t sure what Dean was really after but he’d play along. He might as well keep the other happy.
He looked over at the man in the chair. Castiel had forgotten he was even there while talking to Dean. The man squirmed in the chair now that the attention was back on him. Turning away, Castiel went and got the bag that he had dropped by the door. He took out a rag and poured some chloroform on it. He didn’t like working when they were trying to get away. It made his incisions sloppy. He also didn’t like to kill then until he was done with them. He wanted the organ’s as fresh as possible.
Castiel walked over to the man, and removed the gag. Before he could scream, Castiel slammed the rag over his nose and mouth until his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Castiel then pulled some gloves out of his bag and slipped them on, before untying the man and moving him onto the floor.
“What part would you like to try?” Castiel asked crouching over the body.
“What’s your recommendation. You’re the expert after all.”
“The heart is the best but too complicated to get out. You have to crack some ribs before you can even get to it. It’s messy and time consuming. I only do it when I’m really craving it.” He put his finger on his lips thinking. “I recommend the liver or the thigh meat. Liver is easy to cool, and the thigh meat is the juiciest.”
“Alright. Lets try a bit of both.” Dean said giving a shrug before plopping himself a the kitchen chair.
VII.
Dean found that he loved watching Castiel work. He furrowed his brows in concentration and got these cute little wrinkles on his forehead. He also had to admit that he found the precision with which Castiel cut with quite a turn on.
Castiel held the body in place with one hand, as he used a scalpel to slice the body. Dean shivered in excitement when the man’s body made a sucking noise as his flesh was peeled away from his body. And he’d be lying if he said that when Castiel reached in to get the liver his cock didn’t twitch a bit. And when Castiel left a bloody hand print on the man’s leg as he started to saw off part of the thigh, Dean’s cock jumped to half mast. Dean loved blood. He definitely had a blood kink, and seeing this sexy man in front of him surrounded by blood, well that was almost too much for him to handle.
Castiel got up and placed the liver and the meat on the kitchen counter. He then walked back over to the body and brought the scalpel up to the man’s throat.
“No.” Dean finally croaked out, his throat husky and dry.
Castiel looked up at him, his hand paused.
“After dinner let me show you why they call me the “Artist.””
VIII.
Castiel sat down at the table watching Dean cook. “Why did you start killing?” he asked.
“I’m an artist.” Dean said. “An actual one, but my work was considered too dark, too strange. No one wanted to buy it or show it. I was stuck working at a garage when I realized that I hated my life. I was in a rut. I needed a way to get people to notice my work. Then one day in a dream it came to me. I had never done it before so my first masterpiece was hurried and sloppy but it worked. It was all over the newspapers. I needed to outdo myself, and soon it became an addiction that I couldn’t quit. Mechanic by day, artist by night. It’s not a bad gig.”
“And you have no prelims killing people?”
“Pot meet kettle.” Dean chuckled, his shoulder blades vibrating with laughter. “I don’t see them as people. I see them as blank canvases ready to be painted with their true potential. I decide on my next project and when I find the perfect canvas I sculpt, paint, and mold it into a masterpiece.”
“They’re innocent people.”
“Don’t give me that high and mighty bullshit Cas. You kill too.”
“They deserve it.”
“Maybe, but deep down we’re both murderers who get off on playing God.”
After that Castiel quietly watched Dean cook, and Dean turned on his I-phone humming along to some music.
“I used whatever I could find. He didn’t have many spices to cook with. Doesn’t really showcase my talent but I also wasn’t really planning on cooking for you.” Dean said, sliding a plate in front of Castiel.
He then grabbed two glassed and filled them with water. Once he sat down Castiel took a bite, and let out a moan.
“You shouldn’t doubt yourself Dean. This is excellent.”
Dean took a bite and smiled. “You’re right. Not to shabby.”
They both ate in silence, occasionally looking up at one another, staring, watching. When they were finished Dean cleaned the dishes, dried them, and put them away like nothing had been touched.
“Ready to see my next masterpiece?”
Castiel just nodded.
IX.
Dean dragged the body over near the wall, and grabbed his own bag of tools before starting to work.
“So,” Dean asked. “How come you started going all Hannibal? You always eat humans?”
“Hannibal?”
“Yeah you know Hannibal. Hannibal Lector.”
“I don’t now who that is. Is he a famous killer?”
“No…he…don’t you watch movies? Everyone knows Hannibal.”
“My parents were very religious. They thought that television was the devil and would lead us to sin. When I got older I just wasn’t interested.”
“Seriously!? Who doesn’t love television? Alright fine. Why’d you start eating people?”
“I was curious. I wanted to see if they tasted as rotten on the inside as they were on the outside. I found it quite delectable to I kept doing it.”
Dean nodded, and started to concentrate on his work. The only interruption of the silence coming when he paused to ask Cas for a tool out of his bag. It took Dean a long time, but Cas watched patiently, entranced by the way Dean worked. He found that he liked when the other paused to study he work, contemplated his next step, and then resumed. When Dean was finished Castiel held the body up against the wall, the man’s feet levitating off of the ground a bit, as Dean nailed his hands and feet to the wall.
Dean and Cas stepped back to look at the newly made masterpiece. The man was crucified against the wall, his hands turned up, and his head slumped down as it was during Christ’s crucifixion. He had cut the skin on his back in half and nailed both halves to the wall to make “Jesus” look like he had angel wings. Then he cut a “thorn branch crown” on his forehead, blood dripping down his face and body coming to land in the puddle of blood on the floor.
Dean had gone with his original plan. This is what he had had in mind for Castiel because of his angel name. When Castiel told him that he was religious, he decided to stick with it.
“So… what do you think?” Dean whispered, too embarrassed to look at Castiel, afraid that the other was going to say he hated it. He didn’t know why but he wanted Castiel to be impressed.
“It’s beautiful.” Castiel said in wonderment, staring at the crucifixion in awe. “You got it just right and the wings are a nice touch.”
Dean smiled and then finally turned to face Cas. He was already hard from the sight of all the blood on the floor, and the thrill of making a new masterpiece, but when he saw a smear of blood on Castiel’s cheek (most likely from when he held the body up), he let out a throaty growl. He stalked over to Castiel and cupped his cheek. Dean leaned in and licked the drop of blood off of him, then leaned away a bit staring into Castiel’s eyes. Castiel’s lips were slightly parted, his blue eyes wide. He looked so kissable so that’s what Dean did.
Castiel let out a small whimper and began to kiss Dean back. Before they knew it, their clothes were being tossed onto the floor and Castiel was cupping Dean in his hands. Cas gave him a few tugs before Castiel pulled away, and took a couple of steps back until he was standing in a puddle on the floor. He smirked, and lifted his arms, and beckoned Dean over with his finger.
“This is what you like right? The blood? This is what got you hard? Got you leaking? How much better would it be to fuck me right here. Right in this puddle. The blood shining off of my skin?”
Dean moaned, and narrowed his eyes looking at Castiel like he was prey, walking over, grabbing Cas’s hips and pulling him flush against him, his tongue slamming it’s way inside Castiel’s mouth. Castiel let Dean dominate the kiss for a minute before pulling away. Smirking, he dragged his hands down Dean’s chest, his body following his movements. He nipped Dean’s hip, before getting on his hands and knees in the puddle. “Stretch me.”
“I don’t have any lube. It’ll hurt.”
Cas just chuckled. “Look around me Dean. There’s lube everywhere.”
Dean gasped. This could not get any hotter. His angel could not get any hotter. Kneeling behind Castiel, he dipped his fingers in the blood, and slid one finger in, moving it in and out. When that became to easy he added another and then one more.
“Good…I’m good.” Castiel panted. “Fuck me Dean. Fuck me hard. Fuck me with the passion you have when you paint. Mold my body to yours.”
Dean pulled his fingers out, and flipped Castiel over so that he was on his back. “I want to see your pretty face as I fuck you.” He dipped his whole palm in the blood, and rubbed it along his cock until the whole thing was bright red. Then he slammed himself into Castiel not stopping until he bottomed out. At that moment he didn’t care if he hurt Castiel, and he didn’t think the other minded either.
Castiel screamed out in pain and pleasure, his back arching off the floor a bit. He gripped Dean’s ass urging him on. “Move Dean.” And that was all Dean needed. He began to pound Castiel into the floor, Castiel’s body sliding as he did so due to all the liquid. He knew that neither of them were going to last long, as Castiel’s moans were getting closer and closer together, and he was already beginning to see white. It was when Castiel rubbed both palms in the blood, dragged them down his own chest leaving red all along his body, and gripped his own cock that Dean finally let go. Seeing the blood mixed with the hue of Cas’s pale skin made him lose all control, and he came screaming. Castiel tightened around Dean, gave himself a few more tugs, and came, his head thrown back in pleasure.
Dean collapsed on top of Castiel, the two of them laying there silently for a few minutes, while they both caught their breaths and came back to reality.
“Damn.” Dean said.
“Damn’s right.” Castiel chuckled.
Dean pulled out, and Castiel went to sit up, when a hand on his chest stopped him. “Hold on a minute. Don’t move.” Dean spent a minutes drawing something in the blood around Castiel. He then got up and went to the sink and washed his hands. He came back, his I-phone in his hands and snapped a picture of Castiel. He enlarged the picture and turned the phone around to show Cas. Dean had drawn angel wings around Castiel, and with blood all over him, he looked like the angel of death. Castiel had to admit he looked pretty damn hot. Dean then offered his hand and helped him up.
“Lets shower. You’re a mess.”
Castiel nodded and the two headed towards the bathroom. They took their time showering making sure all of the blood was off of them, before getting out. They walked to the living room and began to put their clothes back on.
“That was the best sex I’ve ever had.” Dean finally said breaking the silence.
“That was the weirdest first date I’ve ever had.” Cas answered back.
Dean paused. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Is that good?”
“Definitely, but it’ll be hard to top.”
“I’m sure I could think of something.” Dean said, looking at Castiel with the biggest smile on his face. They both stared at each other for a moment having a silent conversation with one another. They then both grinned and started to pack their bags up. Dean pulled out a paintbrush dipped it into the blood, and began to title the piece on the wall. When he was finished Dean made a quick run of the house making sure that nothing was out of place, except for the body of course. He then walked over to Castiel and grabbed his hand intertwining his fingers with his.
“Come on. I’ve got to introduce you to my brother. He’ll love you.”
“I’d like that Dean.”
With that the two walked out of the apartment. Later that day when the cops were called with an anonymous tip, and they showed up at the apartment they would find Dean’s new masterpiece.
Written next to it:
An Angel for My Angel
-The Artist
X.
When Dean saw the front page headline the next morning, “The Angel and The Artist Give the Cops A Run For Their Money”, Dean just smiled and climbed back into the bed, wrapping his arms around Castiel.