Archive of Our Own

One would think, having lived for eons, nothing could surprise Castiel anymore. Nothing could be further from the truth. The last nine years had been more eventful than the millions before them. Cas had changed, under the unconscious but powerful influence of one Dean Winchester.

The angel had learned to love. To protect, not because of a superior order, but of his own choice, that same feeling guiding him. And now here he was, in order to protect someone that even Dean didn't trust. But Dean didn't know – he didn't have a chance to just talk to the baby yet. If he had, he'd know that Jack was no abomination; no more than Sam. Definitely no monster to be put down, despite his grace donor. The kid could hardly be faulted for that – it wasn't his choice.

Cas was waiting for the Nephilim's imminent arrival, and at the same time, keeping an eye on his surroundings. Heaven and hell were literally vying for the child, you really couldn't be too careful. A shining rip in the fabric of spacetime? The angel stepped in. Chuck knew who, or what, could have used it as a shortcut to reach Kelly. Castiel's name meant God's shield, but he knew perfectly well that often, the best defense was a good offense.

Nobody was in sight, though, and the angel was about to turn back, when the portal fizzled out in front of his eyes. Okay, no panic. He didn't have time to panic. First of all, he needed to figure out where he was. Second, how to get back.

Angel abilities meant that determining his own location – a rather isolated corner of what would have been Russia – was easy. He was obligated to say would have been, though, because another realization stood out: the portal had not connected two spots on the Earth he was used to. Not even the universe he was used to. Castiel was long aware that Chuck had created more than one dimension, but he'd never before visited another. And while he supposed some could be pretty similar to the one he knew, there was nothing assuring him that this one was the case. So, he was lost in the Russian wilderness...or whatever its political equivalent here happened to be.

Speaking of equivalences...Cas knew about the multiverse Chuck created, and that across it, souls multiplied, but still with a core of singularity all their own. When he'd agreed to Balthazar's plan of sending Sam and Dean across to another, he'd been the one holding onto their other selves from there, making sure they were safe and stayed asleep. Having two sets of them anywhere was just asking for chaos to start in a way that nobody would be able to control. Then again, an unsupervised exchange, tossing Jared and Jensen (he'd probed their minds; sue him) in the universe he came from and leaving them to deal with it like Dean and Sam were would be too sadistic. Not something he could do to any version of Dean, and sending the two of them back trauma bonded and blathering about different universes, to end their days in a mental hospital, would have been a poor thanks for their help.

And now, wandering randomly around in search of anything that might help him get back, he came across an abandoned facility. Or perhaps not so randomly, because when he walked in, hoping to find anything – lore, clues, a way to destroy the spacetime continuum – he sensed a soul. One single soul. And... no, maybe Cas was just imagining it. Craving it, really, what with their disagreement about Jack making him miss one Dean Winchester even back home, so to speak. He'd been too wary to just pop by the bunker, when it would only have started arguments.

Castiel rushed through the rooms, without even glancing at them. Finally, he found him. A pod dominated the room, and inside – Cas hesitated, because the energy readings he was getting didn't agree with a normal human. Definitely too high. Then again, he'd briefly been human himself, maybe he was in this dimension. It was possible that this universe's Dean was a nephilim himself, or some sort of other creature – even a kind of monster that didn't exist back home, and that Cas couldn't possibly imagine.

Still, leaving this Dean here, abandoned and asleep, wasn't something Castiel could do. Sure, there was probably a reason he'd been trapped. But it was Dean, in a way. No matter his powers, Cas refused to believe that he was an irredeemable monster, who should never be freed. Plus, the angel needed to learn the basics about this universe, at least until he found a way out. And who better suited for that role than a Dean? Hadn't the man already taught him about humanity, freedom, love, and that when you really really want something, you lie – among other things, most of which not on purpose?

Decision taken, Cas opened the pod, and watched with bated breath a naked not-quite-Dean come out, tense and wild-eyed. “The fuck you want now?” scruffy Dean growled.

“Whatever information you might have to share,” he replied, but apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. Not the first time in Castiel's life that he upset people without meaning to. This time, though, he could see scruffy Dean's agitation rising and pulsing, not only in his soul, but in the visible spectrum of light too. A normal human from his world would be very surprised, but perhaps, a normal human from this world would know to expect it. Before Cas could even think of the right words to apologize with, he'd been blasted with an energy ray that would undoubtedly have pulverized him if he'd been human. As it was, it only registered as the equivalent of stepping under a too-hot shower. Unpleasant, but not dangerous. Castiel couldn't help the smile – it was so reminiscent of Dean, who'd welcomed him with a knife to the chest.

“Exactly what kind of freak are you and who sent you?” this Dean snapped, glaring.

“I'm an angel of the Lord,” Cas replied automatically, skipping over the second part. He had a feeling that discussing interdimensional travel right off the bat might be overwhelming.

The man scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

What else could Cas do if not spread his wings?

“Of course they named you Angel. All I'm seeing is that Vought still has as little imagination as they did with my team.”

Cas tilted his head. “Who's Vought?”

“You're speaking English, you little fucker. Do you think I'm that dumb? Vought is the company that owns you. That made you – and me. Well, fuck them. They sold me. Soldier Boy is retired. Tell them not to bother me anymore.”

“I'm speaking English because you are. I promise you that we share a creator only at a much higher level than a...human enterprise.” Cas couldn't help the slight questioning lilt to human. Maybe monsters banded together and experimented here, rather than every one siring here and there according to their own pleasure? What a world this was turning out to be.

“Speaking English for me, huh? What's your first language then? French? Greek? German? Guess they'd all have to catch up eventually. Not that it matters, you're so useless.”

Cas flinched a little before he he even thought to contain himself. Yes, this wasn't his Dean, but the feeling of having disappointed him would never hurt less. “Enochian,” he answered anyway. No reason to hide.

“En- what? Huh, someone really did a number on your head, heh? Got you all nicely brainwashed too and actually convinced of that nonsense you're spouting. Pathetic.”

Cas didn't reply anything at that. Admitting that yes, he'd been brainwashed – repeatedly and with gusto, damn Naomi – wouldn't help his case. Not when he was really being honest.

“Anyway, shouldn't you be doing something?” the man snarled.

“Like?” Cas was willing to follow any request, but vagueness confounded him.

“Been ogling me long enough. Either you hand me some clothes or you get naked and start begging in the prettiest way you can.” The man snapped his fingers, and Castiel just barely managed not to flinch. He was no archangel. He couldn't destroy Cas that way. Still, a part of Cas remembered, vibrating with the memory of being torn apart. Cas pushed himself past that and took off his coat. Scruffy Dean leered at him, only to blink when Cas offered it to him.

“You're joking, right? It's Russia. I know I'm Soldier Boy, but even I will need a little more than that.” He sighed. “You know what, I'm starting to believe you really haven't been sent by Vought or anyone else. Nobody with two brain cells would send an idiot like you as anything besides cannon fodder. The fuck are you doing here?”

“I'm...lost?” He wasn't exactly, especially not now that he knew this was, indeed, Russia. Clearly, of all the details God had fiddled with for this universe, geopolitics wasn't one. But he didn't know how to get home and didn't belong here, so.

Dean sighed. “Of course you fucking are. Pretty eyes and nothing at all behind them. You know what, I usually don't take charity cases. But you're easy on the eyes and got me out of there. Might as well let you tag along once I find some actual clothes. At least until we find you somewhere that fits. Like, an asylum with pretty, handsy nurses or something.”

“Maybe not that.” Look, Cas had appreciated Meg's help as much as anyone would, but he wasn't a fan of the general environment.

The man, who'd been rooting around for clothes, turned like a snake and grabbed Cas by the throat, light pulsing. “You already arguing with me?”

Cas remained calm. Provoking him wouldn't serve either of them. “Not arguing. The previous one didn't agree with me, but perhaps, here, we'll find a better one.” He highly doubted, but anyway, it was unlikely that such places would have Enochian warding. He could have left whenever he wanted.

The man snorted. “Of course you were committed when they realized how useless their investment was, whoever they were. Escaped, you too? Well, Angel's an alias for the adverts, so what's your name anyway? Or am I supposed to keep calling you idiot or pretty boy, whatever the mood strikes?”

“Castiel. My name is Castiel. And yours?”

“I'm fucking Soldier Boy, don't tell me you've been locked up long enough you never heard of me.”

“I didn't. I only very recently arrived...here.” Cas made a vague gesture. However the man chose to interpret it wasn't his problem. “Plus, Soldier Boy is an alias for the adverts too. Unless naming conventions are very different here, or your parents were utterly original. I suppose either could be true.”

He half expected another snarl, but his companion chuckled. “Nah, it's just... It's Ben. Benjamin. Haven't heard that in an age. Cas.” Ben's tone was suddenly softer, and the angel wondered how he could keep it that way. The wistfulness...oh, it ached, in the best way.

Ben had finally found something and was getting dressed. Not like an old, dusty uniform could hide his soul from Castiel's sight.

“Where do you want to go?” Yes, Castiel should have been finding a way out, but for the moment, the need to understand was stronger. The need to heal, too.

Ben shrugged. “Guess I'm going back home. It'll be fucking funny to see their faces when I stroll in, that's for sure. But hey, I know I can't trust the bastards this round.”

Cas acted...like an idiot, really. But he heard Dean's soul (Ben, Ben, Ben) mention home, and he acted out of instinct. A second later they were both in Lebanon, Kansas...but the bunker wasn't there. Of course, why would it be? The Men of Letters didn't have to be created to handle odd creatures. Apparently, official companies handled the not quite humans Chuck had tinkered with in this universe.

“OK, where the fuck are we? Because this ain't Philadelphia.” Ben glared at him.

“No, it's, huh...Kansas. I lived here for a while, well not quite here, but – the place doesn't exist. I'm sorry.” Cas lowered his eyes. Did the man ever feel anything but anger?

“You fucking should be. What, did you think I wanted to see whatever institution you came from? Or shack up with you on a shitty farm? Seriously, how do you not know anything about me? I'm offended.”

“I could explain, but there's no point if you won't keep an open mind.”

“Shoot.”

“I truly don't know anything about you, because I literally just arrived from a parallel universe.”

“They let you read too many comics in that asylum of yours, huh?” Ben raised an eyebrow.

Why had he even tried? Of course the man would assume that. And given that powers were a thing here, there wasn't much he could do to prove that he wasn't simply made, per Ben's words. He might not be Dean, but the man sure had the stubbornness of his friend.

“Don't pout now. Make yourself fucking useful and let's go somewhere with people. Or suck my dick. What else can you do here?”

Cas should have shrugged off Ben's coarse words. Dean didn't mince words, either, and didn't shy away from the occasional innuendo... but he didn't mean any of that. Otherwise, he would have had sex with Cas when the angel had all but intensified the look that had ended with sex the previous time someone had used it on the hunter. There was no reason to assume that Ben's invitation was any more heartfelt.

But the angel would never know unless he accepted it, would he? Sure, it wasn't Dean. Not his Dean, at least. But Castiel was stranded, stressed, and had already spent nearly a decade pining for what he couldn't have. If he could have Ben? Close enough. Or at least it would have taught the man not to say things he didn't mean. So, he knelt.

Ben whistled. “Desperate little thing, are you?”

It was a gamble, because this universe was different in some ways – didn't he know it, standing (well, kneeling now) here, in the absence of one weirdly homey bunker. But Cas still answered automatically, “My true form is approximately the size of the Chrysler building.”

Ben snorted a laugh. “Sure. Well, we aren't here for a dick measuring contest, and words don't count unless you can back them up anyway. Fucking get to it.” His hands buried themselves in Cas's hair and pushed him towards the cock that had started to take an interest. Castiel's own hands went to the borrowed pants, but he ended up hitting his knuckles with his own mouth, bones and teeth vibrating in the impact from the speed and strength of Ben's guidance. “No hands.”

It seemed like a weird stipulation, and it would considerably curtail the amount of things he'd learned from the pizza man or former liaisons that he could try to replicate. Still, Cas would never do anything without consent. He would have to try his best and hope to please.

It turned out it wasn't as easy as he'd assumed. Oh, getting to Ben's cock was no problem, but having just one experience point, and on the other side of this (his ephemeral wife, the one who called him Emmanuel) didn't give him the necessary technical knowledge.

“The fuck you doing?” Ben growled. “What's this, your first blowjob?”

Cas nodded, not wanting to interrupt himself to answer, and that made Ben's cock slip deep into his throat. With the groan that earned him, Cas kept it right there – that, at least, must have been a good thing.

When Ben himself drew back, he panted, “Made for this, weren't you? Little slut.” Cas found him utterly confusing. It only occurred to him much, much later that human biology was slightly different, and without grace, this wouldn't have been possible – not so easily, and not so long. Before he could inquire or argue, Ben's hands stopped simply holding and started guiding him, moving him up and down like a doll.

Cas found out he very much didn't mind – having clear instructions, one way or another, was almost comforting. He couldn't do wrong so long as he followed orders. Ben seemed to sense that, and was loud and demanding all throughout, taking what he wanted, and when he couldn't just do it, yelling for whatever he craved. “Suck harder!” “More tongue!” and so on? Cas would happily deliver, or at least do his best.

He was so focused on pleasing Dean (no, no, Ben!) that he didn't even notice how his own vessel was reacting, the throbbing between his own legs a distant feeling when he could home in on the shape, weight and taste of the penis in his mouth. Just like...well, maybe not, he'd seen that the same soul didn't necessarily carry around the exact same body, but the thrill in his veins wouldn't stop. Suddenly, Cas's mouth was filled with spend, every single strand of DNA sharp on his tongue and the best thing to ever bless his papillae. Ben moaned long and loud above him, then dragged Cas away from him, with a last pat to his cheek and a, “What a good boy!”

Cas gasped, his own body helpless to hold back any longer, pants flooded by his own – or technically speaking, the late Jimmy Novak's – sperm.

Ben watched him shudder with a baffled look. “Man, did you seriously cum just like that? You really are pathetic.”

“I'm sorry.” Cas quivered one last time.

“Well, at least you ain't gonna ask me to reciprocate, because lemme tell you, it isn't happening.” That didn't sound very fair, but Cas knew better than to pick an argument right now, especially a needless one. The angel got rid of the uncomfortable evidence with a thought.

“Damn boy, you were really made for this,” Ben remarked. “Ready to move to somewhere with people? You aren't looking for a cuddle, are you?”

The angel shrugged. More people would mean access to more knowledge. “Philadelphia, you said?”

“Why not? Wanna see the faces of the people who took over when I stroll home. Some ass to kick will be nice.”

It was obvious that Ben hadn't lied about being famous. Once they were in a crowded street, people wavered like the sea. The farthest ones trying to get closer and turning to double-check what their eyes told them, and the closest parting for him and trying to keep a respectful distance once they saw the look on his face. Soldier Boy hadn't come back to sign autographs and he didn't even seem to notice the amount of pictures being taken of him. Cas couldn't help but think that Dean would have been most displeased, but then again, Dean was on the FBI's most wanted list.

Perhaps Ben didn't feel as much confidence as he projected with his sure stride, though. Otherwise, he would have either given Cas an exact address or taken a taxi there. Instead, his eyes darted continuously, scanning for possible threats. Or perhaps looking for something, but not something the man was looking forward to. Cas was tempted to tell him to relax, but he could imagine how well that would have worked on Dean...not. Instead, he squeezed the other's wrist but a moment. A reminder that whatever it was, Ben didn't have to face it alone. That earned him a swift glare, but Ben's energy settled some. Perhaps he was just planning to use Castiel as cannon fodder, like he'd said, but Cas still appreciated this chance to follow.

They eventually arrived at a mansion, and Ben ripped apart the gate before Cas could offer to open it. Nobody came forward to welcome or fight them. Ben smirked. “Everyone ran away already, huh? Must have gotten the news I was back in town. Cowards.”

It wasn't quite like that, though. They walked inside uncontested, door punched in. But when Ben decided to change into something more stylish and went to his walk-in closet – Cas following, because he hadn't been told not to – a gas suddenly flooded the place. The man passed out before he could think of leaving, or even swear. Cas frowned. Ben wouldn't like this...besides, the closet was no place to sleep. He took his new companion in his arms and barely noticed the place had been locked as soon as they stepped in. He simply opened the door and brought Ben to the closest bedroom. The angel heard some surprised exclamations, but honestly he didn't care. A short time later, someone knocked.

“Come in,” he said softly.

A blonde woman entered. “So, the Russians reverse-engineered him? And enhanced, I see. Truly admirable. What's your name?” She smiled, but Cas could see her tension perfectly well.

“My name is Castiel,” he replied, “and I'm not Russian. In fact, I don't come from this world.” Nor this universe, technically, but he didn't want to be told he belonged in an asylum again.

“Can you prove it?” she asked.

The angel spread his wings and let grace flash into his eyes.

“Fascinating,” she breathed, “Then, can I ask why you would pick Soldier Boy for your needs? Oh, is it because you intercepted one of our old ads, what with light distance and all? Let me tell you, these were mostly the result of our flawless PR department. No matter your needs, we have newer, improved models we could provide. Whether it is for fighting or....breeding.”

If she truly believed him, or just decided the dude with a biology they weren't certain about wasn't to be argued with, Cas didn't care. He rolled his eyes. “Trust me, there's no one else I could possibly be more interested in.”

“But are you aware that he's not reliable?” she insisted.

The angel smiled. “Oh, I know that there's no way he'll follow anyone's plan if he's not personally convinced it's the best option. Not just some measly merchants' proposal; it could be a literal divine command and he'd snark and challenge it.” Hadn't that been heady, Castiel's first taste – vicariously at first, and as personal choice later – of freedom. Not many angels proved inclined to appreciate it since then, which he still found odd. Though it was evidence he was the odd one out instead, or at least belonging to a tiny minority.

She chuckled. “If we want to call that foul mouth of his snark, sure. But I'm sure you understand: for everyone's peace of mind – for the public's peace of mind – we need to make sure he's somewhat contained. Now, if you mean to bring him to your planet...”

“I've – lost contact, currently,” Castiel admitted with a shrug, “but I will find a way to leave soon.” Not a single lie. He was going back. Ben or no, he couldn't imagine abandoning Dean for good. “In the meantime, I expect the two of us won't be harassed. If that happens, I'm confident I'll be able to remind him that revenge, as good as it sounds, will only make you happy for a moment. I'm sure there are other activities he can be plied towards. The public need not worry.” Maybe it wasn't entirely true. But Cas would try his best.

The woman frowned. “And your plans?”

“Research, mostly. But they will always include him.” At least so long as he was stuck in this universe. “I want everyone to be happy, peaceful, and spend their days learning. But make no mistake. If we ever are attacked, whoever tried will be stopped, and if necessary, smitten.”

Her laugh surprised him. “They'll be what?” she asked.

“I'll smite them. Quick, deadly, not always painless, though.”

“Oh. Sorry. I thought you meant to seduce them. Which you could have, obviously, but it did seem like a weird choice of timing.” She sighed. “I guess that further negotiations will have to include him?” She nodded toward Ben.

“Of course.” Cas smiled towards the passed-out man.

“I'll be back in a few hours, then.” Cas watched her go without any reaction. He didn't like these people and their willingness – no, eagerness – to get rid of Ben, but maybe it was all just a question of false assumptions. By the public or someone else.

When Ben sprang awake – in a panic, trying to fight whatever ambushed him, light so bright in his chest he almost looked angelic for a moment – Cas was there, a soothing rumble assuring him he was safe, nobody touched him at all, or did anything else to him.

“Nah, impossible. They messed with me. Why the fuck go to the trouble of drugging me otherwise?” Ben growled.

“They likely meant to,” Cas acknowledged, nodding, “but did you really think I would let harm come to you when I was right there?”

“You weren't knocked out?” For the first time, Ben seemed impressed.

“Not even close to what you'd need to put me out of commission,” Cas explained.

“Ok. Great. Now let's get the fuck out of here.”

“I thought it was your home? And – a woman has been by. When I pointed out that you were the only human I was interested in, she said she'd come back when you were awake to discuss –”

“That's fucking why we need to get the hell out of Dodge. You can't trust Vought – sneaky fucking bitches, all of them.” Ben flashed bright for a moment again, then cut the debate by leaving as quickly as his legs could carry him – which was considerably. Naturally, Cas followed.

“So, where are we going?” the angel asked, when they were already at a good distance, slipping through alleyways.

“Fuck if I know yet.”

“Library, maybe?” Cas proposed.

“You want to read now? What sort of pansy are you?” Ben glared at him.

Cas reminded himself that this was clearly a Dean who'd lost, or possibly never found, his Sam. “Research is strategically sound, especially when the enemy is unknown, or in our case, not to be trusted.”

Right then, a car – windows open – screeched to a halt next to them. The man who came out – same size as Ben, if less powerful, and another weary soul, but not one that Cas had ever come across before – said, “He's got a point, you know.”

“Scram,” Ben spit.

“Afraid I can't. We were coming to meet you, see – well, if we could figure out how to sneak past Vought.”

“I'm not signing autographs. Or fucking you, no matter how pretty you beg. Now get in that car and turn around.”

“Good thing I ain't here for either. Get in, and we can talk about something that matters.” The new man didn't move.

“Why the fuck would I care about what matters to a piece of shit like you?” Ben growled.

Cas almost winced. Dean always cared – too much, one might argue – but it was true that he loved to pretend he didn't.

“Butch...” a soft, hesitant voice came from inside the car.

“Shuddup, Hughie. I'm getting him to understand if I have to hit him with a hammer to the head for it.”

Ben laughed. “You wanna fight? Cute.”

“Rather not, but you're acting like such an idiot, I might have to. You come along, ten minutes chat, and you decide. Why not do that? You afraid or something?”

Ben pulsed bright for a second, and Butch swallowed visibly but stood his ground.

“You call me a pansy and expect to live?” Ben growled.

“Nah, I expect you to prove me wrong, Soldier Boy.”

“I'll kill you. Kill you all,” Ben snapped.

“Technically, killing them wouldn't prove anything,” Cas said.

Ben whipped around. “Whose fucking side are you on?”

“Yours, in any universe. But if you want me to lie, you have to be specific.”

“Fucking retard,” Ben grumbled. Then he turned back to Butch. “Fine, we're coming. But if you make me lose these ten minutes, you're gonna regret it.”

“Like I expected anything else. Get in,” Butch replied.

They did, squeezing next to another couple of people – possibly an actual couple, but certainly deeply bonded, from the vibes Cas was getting. He wisely didn't comment on that, or on how hurt her soul was. Yes, perhaps he could have helped some. But it would be a major intervention and they didn't know him yet.

When Ben made a decision, grabbed him and brought Cas to sit on his knees, their man shielding the woman from him opened his mouth...and closed it promptly at a glare from Butch, through the mirror. Castiel appreciated the lack of comment – it might not have been his first option, but whatever Ben was comfortable with. They travelled quickly, and then parked in front of a rundown house.

“Nice digs,” Ben sneered, following everyone else in. “Ten minutes start now.”

It didn't even take them a full ten to make their point. Since they'd been very clear, assuming Ben hadn't been around to see how the place had changed from the days of his fame, even Cas could understand the matter. The picture it painted was oh so awful. Cas couldn't help but wish that Chuck would have chosen a more caring pattern. Then again, nobody had been happy with his stint as a God, when he'd only done his best to keep everything and everyone on the right track. Granted, maybe he'd been a bit too murdery, but that was the Leviathan's influence, wasn't it? There should have been a middle ground.

“So you want me to kick the ass of my pathetic replacement for you, and maybe dismantle fucking Vought while we're at it?” Ben said. “You lucked out. That's what I wanted to do in the first place.”

Cas couldn't help but smile. He doubted that Ben had ever heard of his replacement, but he shared Dean's soul. There was no way that he would refuse to save the world, when offered a chance to.

From then on, it was almost like being home. Dean (Ben, it wouldn't do to upset him by saying the wrong name), the people working with him – though more numerous and way less important to him this time – and monsters to take down. Monsters in power, sure, but Cas had seen Dean take down the Leviathans. Vought couldn't be much worse than Dick Roman Enterprises.

Hughie started gravitating to him, once an off-hand comment showed the young man that Cas was the most confident of them all in their success. Oh, sure, Ben's bluster didn't falter. But Cas's quiet assurance was a better balm for Hughie's so often frayed nerves. Cas was always willing to reassure him, like he would listen to anyone else's concerns. He needed to make sure they knew he wouldn't be dead weight in their crusade, while reassuring them that no, of course he wasn't associated with Vought or on their side in any way. “I have a different creator,” is what he settled on. That made Butcher frown, before he sighed and declared, “We'll worry about your fucker when we're done with this.”

“Oh, no need to worry. He's very, very far away and has other concerns at the moment.” Chuck and Amara had a lot to catch up on. He couldn't imagine that God was tracking this world too closely. Or Cas's own little adventure.

Ben was dismissive of him most of the time, but it wasn't like he was bonding with the group. You could always count on him for a put-down or a sneer. But Castiel knew that, when the time to fight would come, he'd be on the right side. There was a facet of him, though, that Castiel did enjoy enough that he ignored his best instincts because of it. The man was possessive.

If Cas spent too much time with the others, no matter how innocently, Ben would appear, grab him, lead him to the nearest room, and proceed to have loud, vigorous sex with him, before proclaiming that's all Cas was good for and the reason they kept him around in the first place. Part of Cas wanted to reassure him, to tell him that as long as he remained in this universe, Ben needn't fear anyone else taking first place in Cas' mind, no matter their gender, vigor, sweetness, or anything else. Then again, would Ben take him at his word about that? And if he did, would he stop, or at least greatly thin out, their sexual congress?

Ben might not be an especially considerate lover, but he was nonetheless a great one, and Cas had learned more about pleasure in these days than with any other of his occasional partners. And he appreciated not having to be the one to initiate. Seeking things out for nothing but his own pleasure still felt like something he didn't quite have the words for. But so long as things remained like they were, that was not something he needed to worry about.

Still, Cas felt like he couldn't be very useful. After all, they were in the planning stage of a case, and he knew literally nothing about this universe except what little he'd been told and whatever scraps he could piece together from the news. Definitely not enough to be able to offer any relevant input yet. And as comforting as Hughie found him, he realized that most of the others didn't really see a point to him except keeping Ben in a good mood. Which, with the potential for damage the man had when upset, Cas guessed was a worthy contribution in itself.

When the boys ended up in a scrape that got a little too close for comfort, it was natural for the angel to offer his healing powers.

“The fuck you talking about?” Ben – who'd remained home, given that they didn't expect to have to fight – asked, but the other's faces said the same.

“If I could just show you,” Cas replied.

“Do your worst,” Butcher grunted.

As confusing as Cas found that, he did what he would have for any human in his care. For Butcher and, obviously, for anyone else who was hurt.

Hughie hesitated. “You're not...losing your own life force to fix us, or getting hurt some other way?”

“Do not worry, I'm not so easily depleted. Let me help.”

“Yeah, let him, one bitch to another,” Ben snarked.

Cas really thought he was doing what was best for everyone, but it backfired – twice, actually. That night, Ben fucked him more angrily than ever, hands bruising his hips, teeth in his nape, like an animal. And when, despite it all, Cas was on the brink, always happy to be used, one of Ben's hands sneaked for the first time to his cock – to strangle it, so tight it hurt, denying his impending orgasm.

“Deceitful whores don't get to come,” the man growled.

“I don't - ” Cas never managed to say understand, because Ben growled, “You don't ever keep fucking secrets from me, is that clear?”

Cas nodded. He hadn't, per se, it just wasn't something that Ben needed, so it didn't seem relevant. But when the man was in this mood, you nodded and shut up. He wasn't going to say he enjoyed being touched for the first time, even if Ben only held him while he finished to make sure he couldn't, even if his cock was deeply bruised by the end. Nothing that grace couldn't fix. Ben pushed him out of bed. “And don't you fucking dare rub one out.”

Cas nodded again. He'd rather revel in the pain for a while – Ben had chosen to touch him. It was a pleasure in its own right. Tinged with cruelty and hurt like anything this universe's Dean had to offer, sure, but he did freely give so much more than the original Dean had ever granted him. The angel was determined to enjoy all he could. He wished he could heal him, but things like these didn't require a snap of grace – they took years and years of careful handling, and Cas wasn't willing to stay that long. He could only hope that someone – maybe his own avatar from around here (where was he?), maybe anyone else – would find and love Ben the way he deserved to be loved. Faithfully, unrelentingly, gently.

What he'd really not expected was Butcher trying to hold him back when Ben planned to face Homelander. “You don't send your medic on the front line, especially not with a dude who can't possibly need his help.”

“I'm not going to heal him. I'm going because I will follow him, that's all. And he hasn't told me not to.”

“Let the boy come. Maybe he just wants to celebrate as soon as possible. He's always been cock-hungry like that. You can't make him normal. Don't worry, nobody's going to ruin anything but his holes...for a little while.”

“Thank you,” Cas said.

“See? What a polite whore.” Ben grinned at him.

“Still stupid,” Butcher grumbled.

“Don't be mistaken – I don't need your permission.” Cas let his eyes flash with grace. That shut the man up. Cas did have total faith in Dean's – any Dean, including Ben's – victory against his foe of the day. But he wasn't going to stay back and let him fight alone.

Luckiest decision Cas ever made. Because the situation seemed so well-balanced until it wasn't, Homelander seemed about to win, and Cas entered the fray. He'd take any punishment for stealing Ben's thunder, but fuck it, he wasn't going to let this happen. He'd smite the disgusting monster himself. Or that was the plan. But with Cas's grace pouring in, a last-ditch effort from Ben in a flash of light, and Homelander's attempt to rebalance things when they suddenly seemed to tip against him, a thin golden wound in the universe opened again. Cas knew what that was. He added a last pouring of grace, sure to actually overwhelm even Homelander's defense, and slipped through before his death could unbalance it all and close the door. The monster would surely be wounded enough for Ben to finish him. And if they wouldn't get to celebrate...well, hopefully he'd be forgiven. Or not, but he couldn't pass on what might possibly turn out to be his one chance to go home.

He was back! He couldn't sense Kelly, which wasn't good, but – the Winchesters were here. Both of them. Cas rushed their way. Sam looked stunned upon seeing him. Dean grinned, but then snapped, “Cas! Where the fuck have you been?”

“You wouldn't believe me.” The angel shrugged.

“Well, while you were having a picnic or whatever, we had to handle fucking childbirth, and Lucifer, and –”

They were obviously alive, which was honestly more than Castiel would have expected at the news. “What happened?” he asked.

“Crowley happened,” Sam replied, “Which is why things weren't the absolute fucking disaster they could have been. You gotta give it to him, the man is shrewd.” There was something like awe in his voice. Odd, because usually Sam was far from Crowley's biggest fan.

“He got your precious Messiah kid, though. Like this is Rapunzel or something. Or maybe Amara 2.0, let's hope boys are better behaved than girls,” Dean huffed. “So, you know, if you are that fond of the boy, you could have tried staying around. We thought you were – gone, man.”

“I was, sort of, or I would have been.” Honestly, Castiel wasn't overly concerned with Crowley. The demon was better than he liked to admit. If hellspawns had to get their hands on Jack, Crowley was by far the luckiest option. They could reason with him. And the King of Hell may enjoy torture as much as any other demon, but if he wanted to use Jack, he knew that you caught way more flies with honey than vinegar. He would try playing nice first.

“Sort of? Meaning?” Dean asked.

“It means this isn't the only universe, and I was stranded in a different one for a while. I'm sorry I didn't find a way to be back sooner.” He really was. Even if Crowley found a way, Jack's conception was his own fault in the first place. Lucifer wouldn't have been free to wander and have sex if Cas hadn't said yes. At the very least, he should have been here and tried to help.

“Parallel universe? I'd say are you shitting me, but your lies aren't that creative,” Dean blurted out.

“Exactly. You know who's creative? Chuck. Though he did reuse souls...well, at least some, but I guess we can assume most. It's not like I've ever cared enough to take note of every single person on earth.”

“Wait, what?” Sam asked.

“Dean was there. After a fashion. As I said, same soul imprint, even if obviously it wasn't your brother. Why Chuck chose that, I am not sure, but certainly I'm not about to criticize his work.”

“So we helped you get back?” Dean asked.

“Sam wasn't there. It's probable he was somewhere, of course, but we didn't meet him.” Cas shrugged.

“Oh. So that's why it took you so long. You were stuck with the dumb brother.” Dean sighed, and how he makes everything his fault, Cas wasn't sure, but Dean's always been a professional at that.

“You weren't enthused at the idea of research,” the angel admitted anyway, “but to be fair, while you were crucial for my return, it wasn't anyone's priority. Not quite the same as the ones you're used to, but there were monsters to slay. Powerful ones, in every sense of the word.”

“I still should have done better,” Dean grumbled.

“You know, I don't think that version of you was eager to see me disappear. He might not have had a high opinion of me, but he enjoyed the orgasms.”

“The fuck, Cas! You said – anyone's priority. So what, it was fine to stay there because you got to fuck me? And you don't think that's weird or anything?” Dean roared, and if he was Ben, Cas was sure he'd be shining imminent neighborhood-leveling nuke. Even if the man didn't have the same powers, his soul was basically doing the same.

“Dean...” That was Sam, tentative and soft, trying to appease his sibling.

“Seriously? You should be pissed off. He skipped on that chaos to have a sex holiday, and I'm the only one who finds it weird?”

“Again, Dean, it's not like I disappeared on purpose,” Cas explained, in his calmest tone, “and what is weird about accepting what is freely offered anyway? Or more properly, asked for.”

Dean facepalmed. “What's weird... I swear, Cas, are you that dumb or are you acting like that on purpose? Oh, why am I asking, of course you're clueless.” He sighed deeply. His belittlement hurt, but Cas was more used than ever to it. At least Dean didn't want him in an asylum. The hunter sighed, “Ok, I'll make it simple. Now I know you fucked me, only you haven't actually fucked me, but – close enough that I won't be able to help thinking about it when you're around. And if you're at least a little close to normal you'll be doing the same. Which makes it awkward, and weird, and we're both gonna be distracted when maybe we should be ganking something, or, you know, focusing on the apocalypse of the day.”

“I don't suppose that knowing I haven't actually fucked you, you fucked me, would make this any better?” Cas asked. Unlikely, but hey, people focused on the weirdest things, and Ben sure was particular about that. It was worth a try. Dean may be right – he often was – but if the detail made it easier for him to ignore what happened, everything would be fine. Castiel was used to tuning out how delightfully distracting Dean could be. He had faith that he would be able to pay no mind to the new data.

Dean almost choked on nothing at all. “Better? No, Cas, that doesn't make it any better. Do you actually want to make things better?”

“Yes, of course. I hadn't considered that you might possibly be against it, given that you've always been very supportive in the past on the subject of my having a partner. Sometimes more than supportive.” Downright pushy, back when Cas didn't yet see a point to it, would have been an accurate description. But he doubted that Dean would have appreciated his words.

“Answer me just one question, then. Why, Cas?”

The angel tilted his head. “I'm afraid you'll need to elaborate on that. Why what, exactly?”

“What does he have that I don't?” The blaze in Dean's eyes was gorgeous, but again, confusing.

“Huh...a beard,” Cas was interrupted by Sam's chuckles, but he ignored that; he'd have to ask some other time what was funny about facial hair. “A few decades more,” he continued, “and there was some medical experimentation done on him, so he has regenerative powers, and he's – quite close to what you could call a human nuclear reactor. Which makes him as dangerous as you imagine. Not that you're not, but you don't risk accidental damage of the same size when you're upset.”

“So what's up with you, Cas? You like 'em scruffy, is it the age difference, or do you have a power kink? Because if the Mark of Cain upgrade wasn't enough, I don't know what the fuck this dude was or what you're looking for.”

“The Mark of Cain was enough to worry me half to death, so please don't do anything worse. As for the rest, a few decades don't even start making a dent in our age difference, and I'm truly indifferent to one's body. Also I'm not actively looking for anything, so I am still confused.”

Dean uttered a cry of exasperated frustration and turned to his sibling.

Sam sighed. “Ok, yes, I'll help you translate, but just one sentence, then I'm going back to the car. You'll have the house and everywhere else all to yourself, try not to get noisier than the radio.” As if that warning wasn't puzzling in itself. If Sam was to be their interpreter...well, as proficient as the man undoubtedly was in Dean-speak, Cas didn't have high hopes. But Dean grinned at his brother, with a sharp nod. Well, someone had to have faith. “Cas, why did you choose to – ” the man hesitated, as if choosing the word, “have intercourse with that other universe's Dean and not my brother?”

“Oh. Why didn't you ask that in the first place?” Cas replied. Dean groaned, as if he was a man whose nerves were being tested and not a puzzle; a fascinating one, to be sure, worth the effort, but why obfuscate? “It's very simple. Ben – Ben was his name, though the soul was absolutely unmistakable – wanted me to. I had no reason to say no, as I hadn't realized you'd be upset.” An even louder groan came from Dean, and as promised, Sam left – towards the car, indubitably, not that Cas cared at the moment. “You said this would make things better.”

“You think the difference is he wanted to have sex with you? Like I don't?” Dean snapped.

“You only ever joked about it, if that. You've never followed through. It's okay, Dean, I won't even ask for what you don't feel like giving. I enjoy your friendship as is.”

“I joke? You seriously telling me the only reason we are not in bed right now is that you've never figured out that I actually want to?”

“Yes, of course, but let me repeat: you don't have to. As much as I enjoyed it, I can go without,” Cas said. Dean always sacrificed so much for the people he loved, and of course he loved Cas. More so than Ben ever did, even if the angel was sure the supe was at least fond of him by the end. The different ways they chose to express themselves were but an inconsequential detail.

A moment later, he was being kissed. Fervently. Dean's tongue eagerly mapped every inch of his mouth, like it was taking stock of a new possession. Like he wanted to crawl inside Castiel and this was just the start.

“Oh.” It was supposed to be surprise. It came out more as a moan – not that it really got out, swallowed by Dean's hungry mouth.

When they parted – no more than an inch, panting hard – Dean growled, “Did I make myself clear?”

The angel nodded dazedly. If this was what Dean wanted, Cas only wished that he hadn't concealed it for so long.

“Can you still taste him?” Dean asked, fire in his eyes.

“Who?” Cas replied, and he wasn't joking. At the moment, he wouldn't remember his own father if Dean asked after him.

It had to be the right answer though, because Dean huffed, “Good. What do you say? We moving this inside?”

“Whatever you like, as long as you don't stop. Or, of course, you could, but – ”

Dean chuckled. “Don't worry. I wasn't planning to.”

Cas sighed in relief. “My room, then? If you want to keep going in the house?” He offered his hand to Dean, who accepted it, letting Cas lead them to the place Kelly had insisted he should have.

“Your room, you said? Thought you didn't sleep...at least so long as you're okay.” Dean frowned.

“I don't. But Kelly is – or I guess she was – as taken as you are with the idea of being watched over at all times. “ Cas couldn't help but miss her kindness. They'd said that Crowley had taken Jack, not Jack and Kelly. She was extraordinarily strong willed, and he couldn't imagine letting herself be parted from her child if she'd survived the birth.

“Sensible woman,” Dean declared. He must have picked up on the angel's shifted emotions, though, because he said, “Hey, if you're not in the mood, we don't have to –”

“I'm fine,” Cas huffed. He wasn't going to give up what he'd been promised for a moment's melancholy.

“Dude, who taught you to lie?” Dean retorted with a smirk.

Cas didn't answer that. Dean, of course, like he'd taught him so many things about humanity. For example, saying he was fine when he wasn't, not entirely. Instead, he asked, “Distract me?” It was as good a reason for sex as any other. Ben had taught him that one. Orgasms were good, and you could always find a reason to share one. Cas might be sad at the moment, yes. But he didn't want to wallow in it. Not if Dean was finally willing to love him in every way that existed.

“If that's what you want.” Dean gave him a long, searching look, and then kissed him. Again. Just as deeply and passionately as the first.

When they parted, Cas unconsciously licked his lips. “You know, Ben never did that.”

“Can't believe I'm such a lousy lay anywhere. Oh well, at least you have the original now. Superior skills and all.” Dean's chest puffed up in pride, and the angel answered his smile with one of his own. It was good that Ben hadn't followed him, because he would so not take kindly to the idea of being the inferior version of anything.

“Prove it, then.” Castiel couldn't resist the tease.

Dean kissed him – again – and as enjoyable as that was, Cas decided to move things along and disappear all their clothes to the corner. Ben had deduced that he should be able to, going off his teleporting ability, and often insisted he make himself useful.

Dean chuckled. “Someone is impatient, huh? Okay, okay, but next time I'll teach you how pleasurable the undressing part can be.”

“I didn't –” mean to make a mistake, the angel wanted to say.

Dean cut in. “It's been years, Cas, I can't wait either.”

Oh. Good. Cas went to his bed, on hands and knees, but again, Dean tutted. “Sunshine, no. I want you to see me, and to see you. Can't have your head wandering.”

“It'd wander only to you anyway,” the angel retorted, but complied.

“Oh, that so? Were you fantasizing about being with me while you were stuck with the fossil version of me?”

“Is that a problem?” Cas asked.

“Nope. Not if you're going to be mine.” Dean kissed him again, down his neck, on his chest, but he was still holding back, which was pretty confusing.

“What do you think I'm waiting for?” The angel didn't mean to be snappish, but after years of daydreams, if Dean truly wanted, he should be taking.

Dean chuckled again, fond and indulgent. “Well, I didn't wanna leave you without something to think about before going to the car.”

“What can you possibly need from Sam right now?” Cas knew better than anyone that the Winchester were codependent, but not that much.

“What?” Dean pulled a disgusted face. “Oh, right, he said he'd be there. No, Cas, I just didn't think you would have lube in here. If you do...”

“What is this lube and why is it distracting you?” Cas didn't pout. He was just – frustrated with the delays.

Dean blanched. “You can't be serious! Ok, we've established that my other self is pathetic in bed, but he couldn't – he couldn't – you wouldn't possibly consent to that. You wouldn't let him harm you!”

“Of course he didn't harm me,” the angel sniffed. As if he could have, power boost or no.

Dean sighed. “So he prepared you before. I don't care if he used oil, butter, or something imported from another galaxy. That's what the lube is for.”

“Actually, he didn't have to. Which he liked very much. Made for this, he insisted, though I doubt that was actually Chuck's aim.” Cas smiled to himself. “You forget, Dean, that this is technically only a vessel.”

“So?”

“You know how effective grace is on a human body. You stabbed me on sight, remember?” First meeting on earth. Good times. Dean blushed, but from the soft look in his eyes, he agreed with Cas's unvoiced assessment. “If I shrugged that off, what makes you think that grace couldn't take over and eliminate the need for any lengthy preparation?”

Dean moaned. “Maybe some time we'll do it anyway, if only to give you the full human experience. Foreplay can be fun. Right now, though, you'll let me check, right? Just to be sure.”

“As you wish.” Castiel couldn't resist the temptation. Dean had taken over his education in pop culture since the boys had found the bunker, and the Princess Bride had made the cut. Dean might not be royalty, technically, but Cas related all too well to wanting to comply with anything your beloved might demand.

“For the record, you're the girl,” Dean grumbled. Cas just shrugged. He very much didn't mind which vessel he took, and while this one wasn't, he had used female ones in the past, and nobody had complained.

Dean was finally between his legs, a gentle finger penetrating him. Cas's body gave way, welcoming any part of Dean, but clinging at the same time, a perfect sheath for anything his beloved had to give, despite Cas's name actually meaning shield. Dean's grunt held something like awe, and he immediately added another finger. The angel's body adapted to it without even a thought. Castiel would have let him do anything, but he couldn't help eyeing the gorgeous, weeping erection Dean didn't bother to hide. Cas bit his lower lip. Maybe it was time to try something that Ben taught him. “Will you please fuck me, Dean?”

Dean choked on nothing. “Yeah, yeah. But if you start dirty talking, this experience is going to be very short.”

Castiel wasn't sure what counted as dirty talking – Ben did, and said, a lot, but he never really explained anything – but he could try to be quiet. He hoped that wordless sounds didn't count, because Dean was in him Dean was in him Dean was in him – all focus on Cas and nothing else, all that love in his soul poured into him. If that didn't give you a high that could tear a soul asunder without an outlet, what would? Cas was loud. Thankfully he had enough sense to keep the right frequency. He would always regret hurting Dean with his first attempts to contact him vessel-less, his natural tuning way too high for the hunter's ears. Now, he purposefully lowered the timbre of voice his vessel would naturally go for, just to be extra sure.

Going by Dean's own groans and broken encouragements, “Good,” and “Perfect” and “Yes,” he was utterly enjoying himself too. Which made it truly perfect, and only heightened the angel's pleasure. It wasn't just about being fucked right – Dean, like Ben, seemed to instinctively know any erogenous zone and how to make it sing with maximum bliss. It was Dean wanting him, loving him, enjoying him that had seemed impossible just an hour ago. Dean's love was a tornado, and Castiel was caught in the eye of it, safe and awed and on the brink of overwhelmed in the best way. One of Dean's hands moved towards Cas's cock, but before he could reach, Cas's last shred of control cracked and he came, invoking his beloved's name one last time. Dean followed him, painting Cas's insides white.

The angel had never felt so deeply inside his own vessel, not even when he was actually human, a sort of mental disconnect always haunting him. But this time – oh, this time he was so very in that it took him a moment to really get his bearings. Before he could fully do that, or thank Dean for his gift, a flutter in the air alarmed both of them. Dean's eyes flickered to the mound of their clothes, where his weapons lay hidden. He thought twice about pouncing for it, though, and simply stood there, tall and proud, in between Cas and the newcomer.

Of course it had to be another angel, but they both knew all too well that not every angel was necessarily Castiel's fan.

“Nithhaiah,” Cas greeted, without bothering to move. The other had never been a close friend, but neither openly on any enemy side. They were using a young woman, but her soft features hardened in a deep frown. Dean visibly tensed.

“Castiel. I'm not even surprised, but someone had to tell you, and I got the short stick. Some of our brethren are of course less than enthused, but the fact is, every single one of us agree that we'd like not to be involved. Turn the fucking radio off when you're – engaged.” They glared at him.

“Oh.” There were no angels in the other universe, or at least none bothered to seek Cas out, so he'd forgotten about the need to keep himself in check. Or that he was, indeed, connected to more than Dean's soul and – in this wondrous occasion – body. “Yes. Apologies. It won't happen again.”

Dean grinned. “Yeah, yeah, I'll make sure to remind my boyfriend. Don't worry. Now, if you're done ogling –”

Nithhaiah rolled their eyes and disappeared.

“Boyfriend?” Cas echoed.

“It's the first word that came to mind. We can quibble about how you'd prefer to define us, but I'm not taking objections on mine. Which is, you know, reciprocal, of course.”

Castiel shook his head. “No objections. Can I kiss you, then?”

Dean's lips quirked. “Anytime. Just don't broadcast.” Castiel nodded, before doing exactly that, and losing himself in Dean's taste. He wasn't just wanted. He was allowed to want. Well, when you received the revelation, you acted upon it.