Under Siege, Part Seven (final), Supernatural, NC-17

[phantisma]

Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Under Siege (Part Seven--I'll get an index up eventually)
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, Castiel, Bobby, John, Lucifer/Castiel, Lucifer/Dean, Michael/Lucifer/Dean, hints of Sam/Dean, Sam/Castiel, Dean/Castiel
Word Count: 9627
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Near the end of Season Six, after "The Man Who Would Be King"...Castiel has not been seen or heard from since his last conversation with Dean at Bobby's. Time marches on without him and Sam and Dean keep hunting. One night Sam wakes to sounds he can't place and Balthazar appears, leaving a very wounded, unresponsive & comatose Castiel in their care before he disappears. Thus begins a mystery that will stretch the already thin resources of the Winchester boys to their limits...and may break more than one of them before the end.

A/Ns & Warnings: This is the final chapter of a fic that ate my brain. It is partially the fault of varkelton and the conversation begun at her house. Fair warning that the topic of that conversation was what situations either of us could conceivably actually slash Castiel with either of the boys....As to warnings for this part? More whumpage, non-con, memories of violence and rape.




To be fair, John knew he was way out of his depth. Angels were something he could barely fathom, and judging by what he'd heard from Dean and Bobby, they were not much better than the damn demons he was familiar with, but that wasn't going to stop him.

His boys needed him.

He laid the sword down on the desk beside the elements of the ritual. It wasn't quite the same as summoning a demon, but it was close enough to sit uncomfortably in his stomach.

Bobby was hopefully somewhere getting them an advantage, filling the fire suppression system with holy water to clear out the lower level demons. John closed his eyes as memory swelled inside him….demons clawing at him, ripping him open. He shoved the thoughts away and focused his attention on the incantation, speaking Michael's name into the cold darkness of the unused office.

For a long time nothing happened…then the flutter of invisible wings sounded and the old man he had met in the yard at Bobby's was there.

"Hello John."

He straightened up, his hand on the hilt of the sword. "We need to talk."

Michael raised an eyebrow, his eyes on the sword, then moving to meet John's. "I see we do." Michael's vessel wasn't looking good. There were open sores on his face and hands, blood on his lips.

He came around the desk, the sword in hand. "My sons are here, and I mean to save them."

"My brother has other plans, I'm certain. He's rather fond of your Sam." Michael didn't move as John approached, standing passively.

"I don't care what his plans are. I want my boys."

"You always were a demanding bastard." Michael said. "What is it you think I can do?"

"I want you to kill Lucifer, but save Sam."

Michael snorted. "And what makes you think I can? Or that I would?"

"It's your job." John blurted.

"He's my brother, John. I have spent an eternity with him. And honestly, he's an insufferable ass, but brilliant and beautiful…we fight, we fuck…in the end, we beat the shit out of each other, but neither of us will ever kill the other."

John pushes down the flair of panic that came with the words. "I want him out of Sam."

"Sam gave him permission, John. Not much I can do about that."

John looked him in the eye. "I will let you use my body, but only if you can save Sam."

"I see someone has filled you in on how this game works."

"Look at you." John said. "You can't be comfortable in that body. It's falling apart."

"And you would give me yours? In exchange for getting my brother out of your son?"

"That's the deal." His heart was racing, knowing this was his only chance, knowing he was a fool for believing it would be that easy, knowing his boys were somewhere nearby in need of his help.

Michael's smile was slow. "Well then, John, I think we can do business."




He wasn't tied down or restrained, which boggled him for a few minutes before he realized the Lucifer had no need to restrain him. No, he'd proven he could control Dean just fine without restraints.

He lifted his head, his eyes open enough to scout the room. Lucifer wasn't there. Castiel was on the bed, watching Dean.

Dean eased himself up, his whole body aching and sore, though the wounds Lucifer had inflicted were gone. He was fairly certain he'd been beaten to death, then revived.

"Cas?"

He blinked at Dean, then nodded slowly. "I am…okay."

Dean glanced at the closed door that led out of the suite. "Can you move?" He pulled the blankets back, turning his face as he revealed Castiel's nakedness. It reminded him of his own. Castiel sat up slowly.

"Why?"

Dean exhaled slowly. "We have to get out of here."

"He will not let us leave." Castiel said, his voice dead and low.

He wasn't wrong. Dean had made a mistake coming here without a plan, without back up. "We need to be ready the next time Sam surfaces. We need to run." His stomach clenched at the thought of leaving Sam, but they needed to get away, come up with a plan. "We'll come back for Sam."

He rubbed a hand down Castiel's back, very aware of their bare skin and Castiel's tendency to lean toward him. "Can you stand?" His knee wasn't nearly as bad as it had been, but Dean wasn't sure he trusted it to hold him. Castiel pushed himself up, grabbing at Dean's arm and holding it as he found his balance. "Good. Try a few steps?"

They limped away from the bed, but the knee gave way and Castiel started slipping to the floor. Dean tried to keep him upright, but it upset the balance and they ended up in a heap on the floor, legs tangled together. Dean's cock pressed to Castiel's thigh.

"Now, isn't that a pretty sight."

Dean stiffened at the sound of his brother's voice with Lucifer's inflection. Castiel hid his face against Dean's chest, his hands clutching at Dean.

"Stop being a dick and heal him." Dean said, pushing as much anger into his voice as he could. He pulled the two of them up, helping Cas back to the relative safety of the bed.

"I tell you what, Dean. I'll heal him. Good as new. But only if you fuck him first."

"What?" Dean turned to look at his brother…at Lucifer. "No."

Lucifer shrugged. "Okay. Fine. He can keep healing slowly. Makes no difference to me." He waved a hand and Castiel groaned. New bruises appeared on his torso, his hand squeezing Dean's.

"You fucking bastard." Dean took a step toward him, but just as easily, Lucifer shoved Dean into the wall without moving. An invisible hand stroked over Dean's cock and he fought the erection it was causing, but slowly it won.

"I can keep him like this for centuries, Dean. Hurt him, let him heal slowly…never fully to the point of being able to leave me…I can hurt him so that any mortal man would die, and let him suffer as he lies in his own piss and blood, unable to leave this shell."

"Dean." Castiel's voice was pained, his body rigid on the bed. His eyes were sunken and black, his skin mottled with new bruises over the old ones. "Please."

Dean closed his eyes. He didn't want to give in, but the sound of Castiel's voice, so broken, pleading. "Okay. Fine." Dean gasped.

The invisible hands holding him and stroking his cock disappeared. "See, I knew you could be reasonable."

"Yeah, fuck you too." Dean replied, moving shakily to the bed. His cock was hard, so that part of the battle was won. He looked at Cas though and he could already feel himself softening. His hand dropped to stroke himself as he got closer.

"Face to face, if you please." Lucifer said, coming to lay on the other side of the bed.

Dean licked his lips and climbed onto the bed. Castiel spread his legs, his eyes on Dean. He could do this. "I don't want to hurt you." Dean whispered, looking Castiel in the eye, trying to ignore Lucifer.

"It is okay." Castiel responded.

Dean moved closer, holding his cock now and guiding it toward Castiel. He was open and loose from so much fucking, hot as Dean's cock slid into him. Dean closed his eyes and moved slowly.

"Look at him." Lucifer said.

Dean's eyes opened, focused on Castiel's face, on his open mouth. He was taken with a sudden desire to kiss him, to give him something kind and soft. Dean's lips covered his, tongues brushing together as his hips moved under Dean. They moved together, joined at mouth and ass and for a moment, Dean could forget where they were and why this was happening, just be there…in a moment of heat, with a friend…someone he cared about….even loved.

His orgasm started, spilling out of him faster than he thought possible and he pulled back with a gasp, leaving Castiel's lips red and swollen and wet. Castiel's cock lay heavy and thick against his stomach, hard and leaking pre-come. Dean didn't even look at Lucifer, simply bent his head and took the cock in his mouth, sucking lightly at the tip before he began bobbing up and down the length and in only seconds, Castiel was groaning and thrusting up at him, the taste of come filling Dean's mouth.

He sat back panting when it was over. "Satisfied?"

Lucifer's smile on his brother's face was sickening. "That was quite lovely, Dean. Thank you."

"So, heal him."

Lucifer waved a hand and the new bruises faded and the long gash that ran down the angel's side and onto his stomach closed up until it was just a long pink scar.

"What about the rest?" Dean asked when it was obvious that was all the healing Lucifer was going to do.

Lucifer's smile was lewd. "I already told you Dean, I like him better this way. Besides, that one little act of obedience isn't enough payment for what you're asking."

"You son of a bitch!" Dean launched the punch without thinking, and screamed when he was thrown across the room, into the mirror over the dresser, crashing to the floor amidst broken glass.

"Now, now, Dean. Watch that temper, Son."

Dean's head was spinning, but he lifted it anyway because that wasn't Lucifer. His father filled the doorway…only it wasn't his father. Dean could tell. He groaned as he moved, getting to his feet, though the glass made it hard. Dean was bleeding, and for the moment ignored, as Lucifer and Michael stared at one another.

"Well, well, Brother, I must say, you look good." Lucifer said finally.

John Winchester's face split into a grin. "Looking pretty good yourself, Brother."

"That meant for me?" Lucifer asked, gesturing.

Dean saw the flash of quicksilver. His father had brought the sword. He held his breath, waiting.

Michael lifted the sword, his eyes trailing up its length. "I'm supposed to kill you, without killing the boy."

Lucifer laughed. "Are you now? Where would the fun be in that?" He reached for Michael, dragging him close and kissing him. After the briefest hesitation, Dean saw his father's body relax, his arms move around Sam's, the sword dropped as they kissed.

"I'm gonna be sick." Dean said.

They broke the kiss and both turned to look at him and Dean suddenly was reminded how naked he was…and how they could both snap him in two if they wanted.

He swallowed hard, stepping out of the circle of broken glass. "I thought you two were supposed to kill each other, not suck face. I mean, what the fuck is that about? You're brothers for fuck sake."

Lucifer crooked a finger at him and Dean was dragged across the floor to them. "Don't give me that, Dean. I know what your brother thinks about you in the darkest places inside him…how he's always wanted to touch you, be touched by you…I know how you told him you wanted to kiss him, fuck him."

Dean shook his head. "No…" Those were thoughts born in him in hell, a desperate seeking for comfort, and in the fire and torment all comfort came in thoughts of Sam.

"It's okay, Dean." Michael said, though the voice was his father's. "It is the way it was meant to be. The two of us, the two of you. We were not separated by our Father because of our hatred of one another, it was our love."

Lucifer pulled Dean closer, his hand under Dean's chin, pulling his body in close, tilting Dean's face back. "Sam wants you, Dean." His kiss was messy, and inescapable.

Dean found himself between them, his naked body pressed in, his father's hands possessively on his hips. Memory flowed into his head…his father's voice, his father's hands…but this wasn't Alistair. This was Michael…which ultimately could be worse after all those years in the cage.

Those hands moved over skin, over his ass and down to his thighs. Lips closed over skin on the back of Dean's neck, sucking hard, then teeth until Dean hissed at the sharp pain. Michael chuckled. Whiskers burned as his mouth pressed in to Dean's ear. "Daddy thinks he could use a little of that ass himself."

"No." Dean said it through clenched teeth, struggling now against the hold, against the bodies, even though he knows it's not going to stop them from getting what they want.

"Remember Castiel." Sam's voice says in Dean's ear.

Dean was panting, slicked in sweat. Castiel made a gurgling noise and Dean stopped struggling, glancing at the bed. Castiel had blood on his lips, new wounds on his chest and stomach. "Fucking asswipe." Dean growled at Lucifer.

"Now, now Dean. Is that anyway to talk to the ones who love you?" Michael responded.

Dean fought the urge to flail, to try to escape from between them. It would only get him and Castiel both hurt. Lucifer backed off a step, leaving Dean held tight against his father. With a snap of his fingers, Lucifer was naked and Castiel was shoved out of the bed. Lucifer lay in the middle of the mattress, Sam's cock hard and standing up.

"Come here Dean. Let's show your Daddy how much you want your little brother."

Dean felt the fingers holding him loosen up. He looked at Castiel, then back at his brother's body. He couldn't see anyway out of it. If he didn't they would just torment Cas, and when he was too far gone to enjoy, they'd move on to Dean and back again. He moved stiffly toward the bed.

Lucifer smiled and held up a bottle of lube. Dean looked away as he took it, not at his brother's face, not at his father or Castiel….anywhere else. He focused on a spot on the blanket under Sam as he opened the lube and spilled some onto his fingers. He closed his eyes completely as he moved those fingers behind himself, slicking over his hole before easing in.

He was sore, the skin a little raw from the last hours. He worked himself open, though he could feel eyes on him.

"Enough." Lucifer finally said and the lube was grabbed out of Dean's hand.

Dean used his still slick hand to rub over Sam's dick as he moved to get up on the bed. He held it in place as he lowered himself down, his eyes closed. This wasn't so bad. He could do this.

He pulled up again, then slid further down on the second go. On the third, Lucifer grabbed his hips and shoved up into him. Dean bit off the yell and swallowed the disgust in his throat. He had to get through this so he could find them all a way out. He was the only one who could now.

"Sam, if you're in there somewhere, I could use some help." Dean thought as the bed shifted. He barely registered the movement at first, but then there were hands on his back, dragging through the sweat building on his skin, down to where his hole was stretched around Sam's cock.

Dean froze. "No." The word came out of his mouth before he could stop it, stuttering extra syllables as his father's fingers rubbed against him, working inside of him. Lucifer's hand lifted to cover Dean's mouth, then his fingers shoved inside, making Dean choke and lean into him for relief.

Behind him, Michael chuckled and shoved two fingers in on lube. Two became three and the bed moved again. Dean bucked up, but Lucifer just yanked him down and Michael shoved with a heavy hand on his neck and Dean screamed soundlessly into Lucifer's chest as a second cock invaded him.

An iron grip surrounded him as that cock pressed inward, unrelenting, despite the resistance. He eased back a little and there was the cooling touch of more lube before he was working himself in again. This time Dean's skin gave way, and he couldn't tell if something had ripped open or if the lube had eased the way enough, but suddenly he was impaled by both cocks and he couldn't breathe.

Michael doesn't relent though, and Dean is held still under the onslaught. It seems to go on forever, then there's heat bathing his insides, and the two of them are laughing…and then everything goes white hot and tilts to the side, though he finds he move.

Under him, Sam's face registers shock, pain.

"Close your eyes, Dean." Castiel's voice, Castiel's hand on his arm.

"NO!" Lucifer screams as white light starts to leak out of Sam.

"Cas?"

"Close your eyes."

He still can't move, and Castiel's hand covers his eyes and suddenly it's quiet, his father's body heavy against his back. Two cocks are still inside him, but they've both gone soft and Dean can see why when Castiel lets him go.

"Sam?"

"Hold still." Castiel growls, his voice a savage wreck of what it once was.

Dean can see now, the quicksilver connecting through his shoulder and into Sam, angled away from Sam's heart, but it was close….too close. Castiel yelled as he pulled the sword free and Dean felt his father fall backward, but his eyes were on the wound in Sam's chest now, his hands covering it as fast as he could.

He pulled the sheet to him and used it as a blanket. "Check my father." Dean growled at Castiel.

"He's breathing."

There was the sound of a shotgun in the next room, screaming and the smell of burning flesh, then the bedroom door burst open and Bobby was stopping dead to take in the scene.

"Ambulance, now." Dean yelled. He wasn't going to hold on a whole lot longer. His blood was dripping down onto Sam, mingling with the blood leaking out around his fingers and the saturated sheet.

"They're on they're way." Bobby said.

Dean nodded, but it made him dizzy. "Bobby…" He was slipping to the side. "Take Sam…"

"Dean, you're bleeding too."

"Sam…."

Bobby's hands covered his and Dean slipped his away, turning to lay on his back, bleeding into the bedspread and it occurred to him that it was only fair that there be blood this time…maybe it was finally time that the three Winchesters bled out the fires of hell and finally got to sleep a while.

He could hear people talking distantly, but he was cold and couldn't pull himself up out of the dark that was dragging him under.





Castiel sat between the two beds in the wheelchair, waiting. In another room in the same hospital, John Winchester was barely alive and they weren't sure he would survive, but if he was honest with himself, Castiel was not concerned for him. If he died, one more of Castiel's mistakes would be righted and his soul would be taken to heaven, to be reunited with the wife he loved even now, after everything.

He had assurances.

If any of the three of them died, they would go home. No more resurrections, no more hell, no matter what they'd done.

The Winchesters had given enough. Had suffered enough.

They would go home.

Castiel likely never would.

He rubbed a hand over the mark on the back of his head. It was old magic. Older than any of his remaining brothers or sisters remembered.

The body he was trapped in was healing, if slowly. He did not like the drugs they had given him, but in the first days he had taken them, hidden inside the fog they created.

Bobby Singer had told some story to the police that Castiel had not believed would work, but so far it had, and now all that was left was waiting.

He had lost everything. Everything but these two men who had taught him rebellion and free will, who had sacrificed themselves for each other, for the world. He could only hope that they could forgive him for his weakness.

And so he waited.

It had been three days since Castiel had found some measure of strength and used the archangel's sword on Michael and Lucifer. Michael had died, nearly taking John Winchester with him. Lucifer, on the other hand had escaped, only to be caught by Castiel's brethren who were still scrambling to find order in the chaos left by Michael's tear through heaven.

He was safely back in his cage, with angels guarding it.

Castiel shifted uncomfortably in his chair. The doctors had treated his body, assured him it would heal. He had only to wait.

There was a familiar flutter of wings and Castiel looked up.

Balthazar leaned on the door frame. "You look like shit."

Castiel offered a weak smile and turned. "And you look much better than when last I saw you."

Better, yes. But Balthazar's smile was weary and his eyes told stories that Castiel didn't want to know. He looked away.

"I've come to offer what I can." Balthazar said, moving into the room now. "You deserve more, but this is the best I can do. For now." His hand touched Castiel's cheek and warmth suffused him, washing away the pain, the aches, the marks of Lucifer's dominion over him. His eyes fluttered shut, relishing the feeling of grace as it flowed over him.

It wasn't enough to cleanse him though, and the mark remained, even as Balthazar drew his hand away and moved between the beds. His hands were held out, over the boys and within moments Castiel could see the differences in them.

Sam's eyes opened first, darting around the room until they found Castiel. He looked up at Balthazar, and then over to Dean who was just starting to stir. "What…"

"Thought you boys might like a few minutes with your old man before I take him home." Balthazar said as Dean pulled at the tubes in his nose.

"Minutes…what?"

Balthazar sighed and stepped back and Castiel reached a hand for him. "They deserve more."

For a long moment nothing happened. Then there was a fluttering and Castiel landed on his ass on a hard wood floor.

They were in some cabin. Castiel was dressed in the familiar clothing his vessel preferred. He blinked, to find the three Winchesters standing together, dressed and whole, and Balthazar grumbling. "I can give you a few days here, there's food and your things, but then I'm coming back for you."

John blinked at him, then nodded. "I'll be ready."

"Dad—" John cut Dean off by yanking him into a hug.

"It isn't enough." Sam didn't look up.

"Look, if I could do more, I would. Truth is, I had to argue it back to just him. Figured you deserved something of a normal life before it's over." Balthazar said. "Unless you'd rather…"

Castiel turned his face away and climbed to his feet. If they left, he would be alone. He didn't like the tearing feeling inside of him at the thought. He should feel happiness that they would see heaven, be reunited with those they'd lost. He bit his lip to keep from speaking. He had no right to keep them.

"Cas?" Sam's voice was gentle, his hand sliding up Castiel's back.

Castiel tried to swallow the emotion climbing up his throat, closing his eyes and letting himself believe that any of the softness and affection he had felt at Lucifer's hands had come from Sam instead. "Most do not get to make that choice, Sam." Castiel said, turning to look at him with a soft smile. "But then, you are not most people, are you. Neither of you are."

Dean cleared his throat. "What about Cas?"

Balthazar looked pained and he sighed. "Until we can find a way to remove the seal, he has to stay here."

Sam turned to Balthazar and shook his head. "Then I stay."

"He stays, I stay." Dean replied, drawing himself up straight.

"No." Castiel shook his head.

"You just saved our lives, Cas." Dean said. "Again, I might add. Now you want us to just…go?"

"Want?" Castiel pulled away from Sam's hand still on his back. "No." He rubbed his hands up his arms. "But you have earned the rest."

"We can rest when we're dead." Sam said, though it felt a little forced. "I mean, seriously…why would we…how could we, knowing you'd be here alone?"

"You are not responsible for me, Sam." Castiel said. "I will manage."

"No. Sam's right." Dean stepped in, pulling Castiel into a hug. "You're family."

"Your father..."

"Was already dead." John said. "And this time, I get to ride the red line straight up top. A few days with my boys is more than I expected."

"It's settled." Dean said when Castiel opened his mouth to argue.

Balthazar was gone in a flurry of sound and Castiel was alone with the Winchesters.

"Anybody else hungry?" Dean asked, moving to the cupboards in the small kitchen behind them. Sam joined him and they began pulling food out, leaving Castiel alone with the elder Winchester.

"I am sorry." Castiel said quietly.

John shrugged a little. "Don't be. Dean is right, you did save our lives."

Castiel hugged himself and moved toward the window. They were somewhere wooded, serene even. "But not until it was almost too late." Castiel said into the glass. If he closed his eyes, he could see it….Dean trapped between them, the madness in Michael's eyes.

John's hand fell on his shoulder. "I'm not saying your timing was spectacular…and yes, things got…" his voice wavered and he inhaled deeply. "But in the end, you came through for all of us."

John left him there, staring out the window and went to join his sons. Castiel felt like an intruder, listening to them as they fell into banter that felt intimate and familiar somehow. Then Dean was tugging on his elbow, pulling him toward the table and the sandwiches they'd pulled together. Castiel let himself be drawn in, let it flow around him, let himself pretend.



Sam sat up from a nightmare that skittered away as he gulped air, blinking into the half light of the cabin. The vague images of the dream faded into more real ones of being trapped inside himself, watching his hands hurt those he loved.

He wiped the sweat from his face and eased out of bed. His father was sleeping in the next bed, but Dean's and Castiel's were both empty. Sam let himself into the bathroom, relieved himself and flushed, then splashed cold water over his face.

He padded out of the bedroom to find Dean sitting at the table, staring into a cup of coffee. "Hey."

Dean looked up, surprised. "Hey." He blinked, then looked to the clock on the wall. It was almost four in the morning. "Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"I could say the same to you." Sam crossed the room, looking around him for Castiel.

"Couldn't sleep." Dean said.

Sam nodded, snagging a cup and pouring his own cup of coffee. "Where's Cas?"

Dean gestured at the door while Sam poured sugar and creamer into his cup. "He went for a walk about an hour ago."

"Should we be worried?"

Dean sighed and sat back, looking up at Sam. "Probably. I mean….have you seen him?"

Sam sipped at his coffee and grimaced at the heat. "Yeah, I know." Despite being physically healed, Castiel was not himself, and Sam had to imagine that he might not ever be again. "He's been through a lot."

"Like the rest of us haven't?" Dean asked before sighing and shaking his head. "No, I get it. I just…I don't know if I have what it takes to help him through it Sam." He stood and paced a little. "I mean, after…everything…how can he even stand to be near us?"

Sam nodded, staring down into his cup as if there was an answer in there. "You were gentle with him at least," he offered after a long silence. "I…I hurt him."

"No." Dean was suddenly beside him. "No, you didn't. That piece of shit inside of you did."

Sam swallowed, looking away. "I still feel guilty though."

"Well…stop it." Dean pulled back.

Sam's mind flashed to what Lucifer had done to Dean too and his face flushed with heat. He stood, pushing his chair back, but Dean was still standing right there and Sam found himself chest to chest, their faces just a breath apart. Dean shifted and their bodies rubbed together. Sam inhaled and tasted coffee and Dean and the images in his head turned. "Dean." Sam breathed his name and Dean's eyes closed.

"Sam…don't…"

He wasn't sure what Dean was asking him not to do…and for the moment, Sam figured he was safest just backing away. He stepped back and nodded. "I'll get dressed. See if I can find Castiel."

Not that he expected that conversation to go any better. After all, it had been Sam's body that Lucifer had used to rape both Dean and Castiel.

Sam pulled clothes from his duffle bag and shut himself in the bathroom to change. By the time he emerged, he could hear voices. His father was no longer in his bed and to his surprise, Castiel had returned.

Dean was making breakfast. John was hunkered down at the table with a cup of coffee, his eyes watching Dean. He looked up when Sam came into the room, his smile tight. Castiel moved past Sam into the bedroom and Sam turned, following him.

"Hey."

"Balthazar will return soon. You should be with your father." Castiel said, his voice dark.

"I want to make sure that you're okay." Sam said, reaching for him.

"I will be fine." Castiel assured, though his voice didn't seem convincing.

"Cas, I know this has got to be…awful for you—"

"Stop." Castiel said, pulling away. "You know nothing."

Sam crossed his arms. "I know that you've been through what we've all been through in hell. I know you were tortured, raped, and trapped inside your vessel and that must be degrading as fuck, and painful and hell, terrifying. I know that you feel alone, and it has to suck that you're stuck here looking at my face everyday and if I could change any of it I would."

The room was quiet for a few minutes, before Castiel moved slightly, glancing at Sam over his shoulder. "Your face does not suck." He sighed and moved to sit on the bed nearest him. "I find your face most pleasing, actually."

Sam moved to sit on the bed opposite him. "How can I make this easier on you, Cas?" Sam asked, earning a teary look up from the angel.

"I…I do not know."

Sam licked his lips, remembering how Castiel had responded in the panic room when Sam kissed him. He lifted a hand, caressed the side of Castiel's face. His eyes closed and he leaned in to the caress. Sam moved closer, brushing his lips chastely over Castiel's. Something seemed to settle in him and when he opened his eyes, Castiel seemed calmer. "I find my body is tired. I should sleep."

Sam nodded and stood. "Okay. But we'll talk about this more later."

Castiel almost smiled. "I look forward to this talking."

Sam sighed as he came back out into the main room where Dean was dishing up breakfast. "Everything okay?"

Sam shrugged. "I think it will be."

"Good. Come eat."

Sam took the chair beside his father. The last two days the three of them had talked a lot, told stories about their time apart, shared memories of times together, and they only thing that would have made it better would have been getting Mary there too.

They ate quietly, not really looking at each other. There time together now was short and there was so much there to be said…apologies to be made…but somehow Sam knew they'd never say them.

They finished eating and moved around one another clearing the table, washing the dishes. It was an intimate dance in the small space and Sam was just putting plates away when his father hugged him spontaneously.

"I never said it enough Sam, but I love you, Son."

Sam put the plate in his hand on the counter and put his arms around the man, pulling him in close. "I love you too, Dad."

"I'm proud of you. I want you to know that." He pulled Sam even tighter before he let go and cleared his throat. There were tears in his eyes when he stepped back, his eyes turning to Dean.

Sam saw the hesitation, as slight as it was, in Dean's response, in the way he moved into his father's embrace. Their hug was just as intense, their parting slow. When they parted, Sam was startled to find Balthazar already there.

"I'm ready." John said with a slight nod.

"Dad." Dean's voice cracked. Sam slipped an arm around him and pulled him close.

John smiled, tears slipping from his eyes as Balthazar touched his shoulder. They were gone in a blink and Dean curled into Sam for a moment, hugging him tight.

"I don't know how much more I can take." Dean whispered.

Sam's hand caressed up his back. "No more, Dean. We can just stay here."

"Promise?" Dean asked into Sam's shoulder.

"For as long as you want." Sam promised.

Dean lifted his head, though his eyes never made it past Sam's lips. "Would you still say that if I kissed you right now?"

Sam's breath hitched and he wasn’t sure which of them moved, but then they were kissing, soft and wet and Dean's lips were open under his and it was like when Sam kissed him to make him stop dreaming, only so much better.

Sam eased back, waiting, holding his breath…ready for Dean to hit him or yell. Instead, Dean breathed out and after his eyes moved up to Sam's, his hand curled around the back of Sam's neck and his body pressed in against Sam's, pushing him into the counter as his mouth covered Sam's lips.

His tongue tasted of desperation and desire and his body rubbed against Sam's with a frantic need that he could only echo back until finally they had to come up for air and Sam was panting even as he grinned at his brother.

"I don't want to talk about my feelings or any of that." Dean said softly. "I don't want to think about why."

Sam nodded. "Okay."

Dean stepped back and ran a hand over his face. "And…we have to deal with Castiel."

"One thing at a time." Sam said, drawing Dean back to him and kissing him again.

Dean let him, then sighed and pulled back. "This is really fucked up."

"Yeah…but then what in our lives isn't fucked up?" Sam asked.

"Okay." Dean said, rubbing a hand over his face. Then he grabbed Sam's head and tugged him toward the bedroom. "Cas."

Castiel sat up, his face unreadable as his eyes found their joined hands. Dean let go of Sam's hand and sat on the opposite bed. "Cas, we need to talk."

Castiel looked at them both blankly. Dean shook his head and suddenly lurched up, his hands grabbing Castiel's face and kissing him soundly. When he sat back, Castiel blinked and licked his lips.

"Sam?" Dean's voice shook a little.

Sam nodded. "Okay." He kissed Castiel as well.

Castiel looked at Sam, and then Dean. "I am uncertain what this means."

"It means you think too much." Dean said, rolling his eyes.

"And it means that we care about you." Sam added. "We want you to be here. With us."

"I am here. With you."

Dean looked at him for a long moment, then started to laugh. "Yeah, Cas. You are." Dean stood then. "Right where you belong."

Castiel stood too, and the kiss looked awkward, but Dean didn't push him away. "We'll work on it." Dean said when Castiel had ended the kiss.

Sam slipped an arm around Dean and pulled Castiel closer. "Yeah, we will."

There was still a lot to work through…memories of hell and the things done to them there…but there was a lot that didn't need to be said too. And somehow, Sam could believe that they would be okay.