Archive of Our Own ^beta

Dean knew he had fucked up when the door fell shut with a clang. The piercing screech that had lured him inside died all of a sudden, and a deafening silence embraced him. His ears still rang for a moment, but the silence won, and he was lost.

His flashlight died. Even the sounds of his racing heartbeat and irregular breathing were swallowed by the subsequent darkness. If it weren’t for the connection of his fingers to the door, he would have doubted everything he had ever known.

Though the flimsy contact didn’t help. He could barely discern the difference between flashlight and door, if there was any at all.

Trapped in total darkness, Dean was blind, and deaf. Yet it was worse. There was nothing that triggered any of his senses. Horror filled him as he tried to sniff himself and came up empty. His nose was as useless as his eyes and ears.

Panicked, he nicked his bottom lip until blood spilled out. Dean could feel it dripping down the inside of his mouth. Eagerly, he licked it, and froze. Terror gripped him as he got no sensory feedback.

No iron-y sting; nothing.

His taste was gone as well.

Instinctively, Dean licked his lips and lifted his hand that still held his gun. As his tongue brushed over his knuckles, he gasped.

The sounds were instantly drowned, dissipating into nothing, but the soothing contact remained. At least he could feel himself. Something inside him was calmed while his terror intensified at the same time.

Although Dean could feel, it was as if no other sense than touch had ever existed. How long would it last? His last remaining sense could sink into oblivion at any given time. He only waited for it to vanish.

Dread filled him. His breath stuttered while he felt himself slipping through his fingers. Literally.

As he moved his thumb along his index finger, Dean knew it was there, yet the feedback was dwindling. He was losing himself, quickly, and he couldn’t do anything about it. Just a little longer, and the memory of himself would be wiped from the Earth.

Who was he if there remained nothing to perceive, not even himself?

Freaked out, Dean licked his lips. The blood still had to be there, but he couldn’t discern it any longer. There was nothing. No taste, no smell, not even the smallest difference between two bodily liquids.

Absolutely nothing.

Dean should still be able to feel the dripping wound on his lip, yet all that remained was a distant tingle that slowly tapered off when his tongue brushed over the spot.

He knew he was breathing heavily. He must be, even though he barely perceived any feedback at all.

Alarmed, he closed his eyes and strained his ears. He focused on the tiniest of sounds — his breathing, his heartbeat, the rustling of his clothes.

Yet, even though he moved, he heard nothing. Dean ripped his eyes open to stare into the darkness. His heart still beat, didn’t it? But for how long?

For how long would he be able to distinguish that his body was still working? How long until he couldn’t tell that he was still alive?

Dean clenched his fists. If he hadn’t known for sure that they were still tightly clasped around his gun and flashlight, he would have doubted the objects’ existence. He still did, despite the slightest feedback reaching his mind.

Although he could move his body just fine, without the sensory feedback, his mind seemed trapped in the cask of a man.

Or a soul, trapped inside a foreign vessel.

Like a human worn by a demon. Or an angel.

Though, in this scenario, Dean was his own demon.

Maybe this was how an angel felt when they wore a human as their prom suit. With the Chrysler building squeezed into the shape of a man, their senses must be reduced to a minimum, dulled, and strange.

So very strange, and fucking terrifying.

“Cas?” Dean whispered.

Yet, the silence was all-encompassing. It weighed on him until he questioned ever having used his voice before.

“Cas?” he repeated, already knowing it was in vain. Still, Cas had to be there. He had been right behind him when Dean entered. When they had entered this strange nothingness.

Dean had felt him all but pressed against his back. Only inches had kept them apart when the door fell shut and vanished like the perception of himself.

Or did it vanish at all?

A sliver of hope flickered inside Dean.

Maybe the door was still there, and Dean’s senses were betraying him. Maybe, if he tried, he could pry it open, and walk out; walk back inside the Bunker, as if nothing had ever happened.

Dean let go of the useless flashlight and pressed his palm against the metal. The sensations wavered, but they were still there. He sighed when he perceived the cold metal beneath his fingertips.

His hope blossomed, and Dean hammered his fist against what should be the door. At least, it had been just a few moments ago.

If it had been just a few moments ago.

The doubts intensified.

Maybe he had been trapped for hours, or years. Who could tell in this strange place?

Remote pain flooded through him as his fist crashed against something and the spiralling stopped abruptly. The ache felt so strange and foreign that it seemed nearly impossible to connect it to his body, or even his hand.

He lost himself. While his sense of self was slipping from him, icy panic gripped Dean.

“Cas?” he shouted as the terror boiled over. “Sammy? Fuck! Can anyone hear me?”

Dean’s shoulders slumped and he rested his forehead against the only thing he could still discern.

“Goddammit,” he whispered as the cold metal touched his skin. It seemed miles away, though it calmed him nonetheless, even though every sound he made was instantly smothered by the unrelenting void.

Dean’s breathing picked up. As the nothingness persisted, he tightened his grip around his gun. At least he still had it with him, even though it was completely useless in his situation.

Taking a few breaths, Dean focused on himself, or whatever remained of it. Panic was never the answer. He needed to be rational. If he lost his mind, it was over.

Fact was, there had been a door. Since he had walked into this place, there had to be an out.

Geez, there was a door. Dean had entered through it. Trying to centre himself, he pressed his palm harder against the metal. Even though he could barely perceive it anymore, the contact grounded him. It was his only connection back to the others, back to his world. If he lost it…

If he lost them—

Well, he would certainly be a lot more fucked than now. If that was even possible.

Dean brushed his thumb over the surface. Despite everything, he could still distinguish its smoothness, and he put all his focus on it.

After all, Cas was trapped behind it. Cas, and Sam.

Dean needed—

Appalled, he realised the error in his reasoning. Neither Cas nor Sam were the ones who were fucked.

Dean was. He was the one who was trapped in a place that didn’t exist. Literally, as it kept sucking every sense of self out of himself. The void seemed to feast on his senses until nothing remained.

Hopefully, he was the only one trapped inside. If Cas had—

Dean shook his head, too horrified to even think the unthinkable.

It was just him. There was no one else around. Or was there?

He huffed.

The lack of feedback still freaked him out, but given that he had no sense remaining beyond a tingling touch, Dean decided his gun was of no use.

How he managed to tuck it into the waistband of his jeans behind his back was beyond him. Aside from a distant tickling, he felt shit. Then again, he had done that move all his life. It was a part of him.

Dean tossed aside the eeriness that came with it and sighed.

Or, at least, he thought he was making that sound. Getting no acoustic clue at all was really getting on his nerves. It chilled his bones.

All of the sudden, a draft tickled his skin. After an eternity of nothing its intensity came as a shock. Dean screamed.

The sounds stuck in his throat, yet even when the sensations were gone, the chill remained. Adrenalin shot through his body and his hand clasped around thin air.

His mouth was dry and he already regretted his decision to put away his gun. Without his index finger in the initial reach of a trigger, his uneasiness skyrocketed. Though what use was a gun when almost all of his senses were gone?

Instinctively, Dean wetted his lips as a shudder ran down his spine and a thought crossed his mind.

He wasn’t alone. Something was there, trapped inside this place with him.

If this place was inside. Who knew? Maybe it existed outside the world as he knew it. Or, maybe, it didn’t exist at all.

Whatever it was, it was him who was trapped. And with him a thing.

He might not see it, or hear it, but he knew. Goosebumps erupted all over his skin. The detachedness from his body made it all so much worse. Somehow, he knew that cold shivers ran along his spine, even though he couldn’t feel them. Not really.

Dean couldn’t feel anything, and the panic he had managed to keep at bay for so long crept inside his bones.

Even though he swallowed it again and stuffed it to the back of his mind, his hands started to shake as he examined the metal beneath his fingertips inch by inch. Dean did it as quickly, but meticulously as he dared, even though he already knew it would be to no use.

And yet, the hope prevailed. If he could just locate one edge of the door, it was the first step to his escape. It was essential. Once detected, he could find a way to pry it open, and get the hell out of the nightmare he was trapped in.

Dean used both his hands to brush over the metal, yet all of it felt the same. Even though the metal was right beneath his fingers, it seemed miles away. He concentrated on it, trying to find a joint, but there was nothing.

Further and further, he followed it, his fingers never losing contact. But the object expanded farther into the place. One step, two, and another, until Dean froze.

This wasn’t right. Not at all. The fucking thing didn’t end. There was no frame, no edge, just plain metal. Endless, and deadly.

If he continued and stepped further; if he followed it, when would he stop? Four steps. Five… Ten? Would he ever? Or was he running in circles?

Dean succumbed. He couldn’t go on. If he continued his futile endeavour, he would never find the place of his entry again.

Not that it would be of any help. Though, the farther he went, his chances to get out of this place would shrink exponentially — if there remained the slightest chance of escape at all.

As he turned around, the constant draft that had followed him blew directly into his face. Stuffy and foul it puffed into his eyes and he blinked.

Smell.

His pulse rate shot up. He could smell it.

Horrified, Dean pressed his back against the wall. He couldn’t let go of it. If he lost it…

“Fuck,” he murmured. His words were swallowed by the silence, but the draft vibrated.

Dean gulped. Was the goddamn thing laughing at him?

Somehow, the presence of anyone around him calmed him. He didn’t even care if that thing was out to kill him. But if some thing was there, Dean wasn’t dead yet.

A smile flicked over his face, and while his back and left hand never lost the connection with the metal, Dean slowly moved his right hand to his gun. A sigh of relief escaped him as his fingers closed around the handle, yet especially when he felt it.

As much as Dean welcomed the short moment of elation, it died at once when his eyesight returned all of a sudden. A blue-gleaming eye flickered up and focused its entire attention on Dean.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean hissed, and staggered back.

His head thunked against the wall and created an actual sound that went right through Dean’s bones. Shocked, he lost the grip on his gun and it crashed to the ground, clattering as it hit it.

Shaking, Dean tried to think, to keep his panic at bay, but when he escaped to his left, never leaving the wall out of touch, he stumbled. It was over.

Instinctively, his hands shot forward to catch himself and he lost his only lifeline to the world beyond. Hitting the ground hard, Dean stared into the eye — eyes — in front of him.

Two. Three. Hundreds… Thousands.

Dean licked his lips, and the eyes tilted before the beast squinted.

“Cas?” Dean asked, amazed, and lifted his hand to reach out to the creature.

He must be out of his fucking mind, but he couldn’t resist. If that thing was Cas—

God…

Breathing became a chore while his heart beat in his throat. He shouldn’t do it, definitely not, though as his fingers made contact with the beast, it felt so fucking right.

It wasn’t just the touch that finally triggered his senses like a touch was supposed to be, but the rightness of it drove tears to his eyes.

“Cas,” Dean whispered, full of awe.

The gleaming of the multitude of eyes intensified, and Dean sat up and greeted his best friend with a smile.

***

“Cas, what happened?” Sam asked as he came to an abrupt halt next to his friend. Trying to catch his breath, he looked around the corridor. “Where’s Dean?”

His lungs were burning after the sprint. Sam had heard the screech that caused the Bunker’s walls to tremble and had already been running when it had been replaced by a wail.

Cas’ wail… for Dean.

For a moment, it seemed Cas didn’t even notice Sam. Instead, he kept staring at the Bunker’s wall as if it had wronged him.

Sam wanted to shake the damn angel as he didn’t acknowledge his presence, when Cas suddenly spoke.

“In there,” he said and frowned. “It won’t open.”

Sam frowned. “It’s a wall,” he pointed out as if it weren’t obvious.

“No,” Cas growled and glowered at the wall. “It is now, but it wasn’t when Dean stepped through it,” he noted matter-of-factly while he finally turned around to face Sam. Despair clouded his face and his shoulders drooped. “There was a door.”

Turning to the wall, Sam tried to understand while a cold shiver ran down his spine. Slowly, he faced his friend again, but the look in Cas’ eyes let his heart plummet. He had never seen so much defeat in Cas, not even when Metatron had stolen his Grace and turned him into a human. The only moments that came close was when Dean had disappeared before.

“He is gone,” Cas added gloomily, and with so much conviction that Sam wanted to scream. If Cas had already lost all hope…

“There must be a way,” Sam argued, to keep his sanity. They couldn’t give up so easily. There must be something. “Maybe the Men of Letters—”

“And then what?” Cas asked. His cold detachment cracked as anger burned through him.

Terrified, Sam stumbled back, but Cas wasn’t done yet.

“How long will it take to research? Dean is— What if—”

Cas sighed, and Sam grabbed him by his shoulders.

“Goddammit, dude!” he grumbled as he shook him. “You can’t give up now. Dean is… You have never given up on him.” Sam made sure Cas was looking at him. “We’re getting him back.”

Cas nodded, though the light in his eyes had died. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Sam was puzzled. “Dude, are you okay?”

“I don’t know.” Cas blinked. His coat seemed several sizes too big while he stared at the ground. “He was right here, and then…” Abruptly, he looked up. “Sam, he’s gone.”

“So what?” Sam heard himself say. “That hasn’t stopped you before. We’re gonna find him.” He wondered why he was the one soothing Cas, when his brother was the one who was missing.

Still, it seemed to have some effect on the angel. The corners of Cas’ mouth ticked up, and, without a word, he slipped out of his coat.

Carefully, Cas folded it and put it down right in front of the wall. “X marks the spot,” he quoted solemnly before brushing his hand over the fabric. Seconds ticked by before he finally got up.

Yet, Sam hadn’t missed that Cas’ hand returned to the wall immediately.

“Can you feel him?” he asked his friend and stepped forward.

Cas frowned. His gaze turned blank and a dark shadow flickered over his face before he shook his head in frustration.

“Why do you think so?” he asked bluntly, glancing at Sam. Though, when his eyes followed Sam’s gaze, understanding dawned on his face. Cas pulled his hand away from the wall as if he had been burned, and winced.

Nothing of it made sense and Sam tried to comprehend what was happening. It wasn’t the first time he had seen Cas without his coat, and yet it seemed so strange to see him without it. Whenever it happened, Cas seemed incomplete, as if a vital part of him was missing. Almost as if he wasn’t himself.

Sam stilled, but after a moment, he shook his head and tossed the thought from his mind. There were more important things to take care of than Cas’ choices of dress. Dean was missing, and he had to be their number one priority.

Whatever was going on, this was bigger than anything they had expected when they started the day. Although there had been some weird incidents in the Bunker over the last few days, it had been nothing that would have spooked them. At least, each of them on their own. Combined, they painted a completely different picture.

It still hadn’t rung any alarm bells, but they had decided to look into the anomalies. They had managed to pin it down to one corridor they had rarely used before. Apart from the two bedrooms at the beginning and end of it, it mostly served as a passageway.

Nothing had suggested otherwise. And since the corridor didn’t lead to any essential parts of the Bunker they couldn’t reach by other means, they didn’t expect much as they started to investigate further. It actually seemed to be a spare.

One day it might come in handy, but until then, they would probably have forgotten all about it. Without the need for urgency, they had split up. While Sam had looked up the farther end of the hallway, Dean and Cas had stayed behind. They had planned to look into some vibes that called out to Cas, but which he couldn’t pinpoint further.

Yet then, not long after they had split up, an ear-piercing screech had shaken the Bunker until it had been replaced by Cas’ cry for Dean.

Which had brought Sam to Cas, whose hand was back on the wall. It trembled. Cas was clearly struggling. Even his eyes stayed fixed on the wall, and a shudder ran down Sam’s spine.

Cas’ entire posture seemed wrong. Although the angel — their friend — had changed so much since Sam had met him for the first time, it wasn’t that. Ever since his fall, Cas’ Grace had become unstable while he turned more and more humanlike with every passing day.

However, seeing him like that, Sam knew that something else must be going on. There was something eerie about him that had Sam’s nerves tingling.

Cas wasn’t—

Maybe that wasn’t Cas.

After all, they had crossed paths with a fair share of doppelgängers before — shifters, Leviathans, you name it.

Sam rolled his eyes at himself. He was overreacting. While they had encountered the weirdest things in the Bunker, it was their home, and he had been just around the corner.

He had heard them. Dean and Cas had bickered for the whole time as always. Even though Sam hadn’t been able to follow their conversation, their voices had carried through the corridor.

Just for one short moment, they had stopped. They had picked right up afterwards until the screech had drowned out everything, only to be replaced by Cas’ desperate outcry.

Now, Dean was gone, and Cas—

Sam huffed. Of course, Cas was shaken. Dean had disappeared right before his eyes.

“We’ll find him,” Sam said again and stepped forward. Smiling reassuringly, he clapped his friend on the back. “Bad weeds grow tall, and Dean—”

“He isn’t as tall as you are,” Cas noted with his incomparable earnestness.

“Yeah, dude,” Sam confirmed, barely stopping himself from rolling his eyes again. “You’re right. Though it takes a lot for the asshole to not come back.”

Cas’ head slowly turned around and his eyes focused on Sam.

A shiver ran down Sam’s spine while the frown on Cas’ forehead grew wider. “Is that why you never looked for him when he was trapped in Purgatory?”

Sam flinched. The words cut deep. “He was with you,” he deflected weakly. Cas had no right to attack him like that. Sam had done what had been necessary. “I—”

“You gave up on him,” Cas continued relentlessly, and drove the proverbial dagger even deeper into Sam’s chest.

Cas’ entire posture changed as he straightened his back and glared at Sam. Power radiated through him, and Sam raised his hands in defence.

“I hit a dog,” he stammered as if it was helpful. “I—”

Cas stepped forward, finally letting go of the wall. “You gave up on us.”

“I—I went after him when Metatron… the Mark… after Crowley—” Sam stammered.

Yet, Cas was ruthless. “You tortured him,” he growled, and Sam staggered back.

“No, that’s not—” Sam protested and raised his hands defensively. “You know exactly why I did it. You were there. He was a freaking demon. He tried to kill me! Dean attacked me. And if you hadn’t—” he shouted. “I did it because—"

Cas tilted his head as if he was weighing Sam’s answer, and the words on the tip of Sam’s tongue died.

Finally, Sam caught himself. He crossed his arms and stepped forward, towering over his friend. “You really want to do this now, Cas?” he asked and huffed. “Why does it matter now? You’re back. Both of you. Purgatory? Hell? Jeez, we all messed up.” Sam shrugged. “We tried. Time and again. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes it didn’t. We fucked up. But you know what? That’s what we do. And if Dean hadn’t opened that—”

“Don’t,” Cas warned him. The temperature in the corridor dropped several degrees, and Sam swallowed.

“I know you want him back, Cas,” he appeased his friend. “As do I. I’d do anything for him. He’s my brother!”

Cas sighed. His shoulders slumped down, and the power that had filled the corridor died down.

“So, uh, library? Let’s see if we can find anything that’ll help us,” Sam proposed.

With a glance at his coat, Cas trailed his fingers over the spotless wall, and nodded.

“I’ll get you back,” he whispered, barely discernible.

“We will get him back,” Sam agreed.

It didn’t escape him that Cas was again keeping his connection with the wall. His fingers rarely left it, even when he turned around. Somehow, Sam felt like he was trespassing into something he wasn’t allowed to witness. Something he didn’t understand. Though, the more he tried to figure it out, the less sense it made.

Dean was his brother, his family, but Cas seemed way more shaken than himself.

Carefully, Sam patted Cas on his back and led him away from the wall, and the corridor. As they walked around a corner, Sam’s back tingled, and his senses heightened.

Something was definitely wrong. All of a sudden, the doppelgänger theory didn’t seem that absurd after all. Besides, it didn’t need to be a doppelgänger. Lucifer himself had taken Cas as his vessel before.

Cold shivers rushed through him and Sam slowed his steps down to enhance the distance between himself and the angel. If it was the angel at all, and not someone else.

Sam definitely needed to keep an eye on his friend, but Cas didn’t seem to notice anything as he shuffled through the Bunker. He certainly didn’t realise that Sam shoved his hand into his jacket, grabbing onto the angel blade hidden inside.

Whatever was wrong with his friend, and with the Bunker itself, Sam needed to be prepared.

One of them had to be.

***

With the help of the bluish light from thousands of eyes, Dean finally could make out shapes. This thing, this creature, was huge. Monstrous.

Though it wasn’t just some creature, but his best friend, Dean reminded himself, and a gentle warmth flooded through him.

“Hey, buddy,” he whispered as he touched the eldritch being. The silent void still swallowed his words, but it felt good to speak them.

Higher and higher, Dean trailed up his eyes, until the blue shine washed into the black nothingness. It was impossible to say where the creature ended and the darkness began. Both seemed endless, especially since this goddamn place was beyond human comprehension; beyond anything he could measure, or feel.

And still, this weird being that was his best friend returned Dean’s sense of self. Without Cas, Dean had been lost, but now he could see.

What he saw filled him with awe. Between countless eyes and heads, there were limbs. Hundreds? Thousands?

It was impossible to tell.

Dean should be terrified, but against his better judgement; against all rational thought, he kept touching them, touching him.

Cas started to hum when Dean trailed his hand over one of the tentacles. Or was it an arm? Even though he had watched too many documentaries about sea creatures during shark week, Dean could never remember the right terms. If any of those human words even were appropriate for celestial beings. Maybe those were tendrils after all. As far as Dean could make out in the dim light, there were no suckers, which kinda sucked. He would have loved—

A wave ran through the creature, and, suddenly, laughter filled the place. Dean’s head flew back as the outburst hit him square in the face, but he was immediately caught by arms.

As one of them nudged him carefully, Dean chuckled. The sounds rang through the silence, and Cas tilted his head — heads. It was one of the weirdest things Dean had ever witnessed in his life. And, damn, he had run into way too much crazy shit.

On a rational level, all his spidey senses should have tingled as if it was Christmas in Times Square, but in this place, they seemed utterly broken. The urge to lean into the touch and nuzzle the arms was overwhelming. Nothing had ever felt so right.

Dean let go of all his reservations, his doubts, and followed his instincts. For years, he had held back. He had repressed his feelings, swallowed his urges, but in this place, in this void, it didn’t make sense to restrain himself.

Without Cas, Dean had been nothing. Cas had given him back his senses. He made him whole. He was his eyes, and ears. With Cas, Dean was able to touch, and smell, and taste.

Dean wanted all of it. He wanted to experience his senses to the fullest. His body ached to feel something. Anything.

And so, Dean took.

“Touch me,” he whispered.

Cas’ eyes flared up. A soft blue light encased Dean as his angel obeyed him. Gentle at first, each contact felt as if Dean was hit by lightning.

“Cas,” he breathed out, already shaking all over his body.

Arms enclosed him, touched him everywhere as they lifted him up. Dean moaned as tentacles slid under his clothes and ripped at the seams until they burst. He was helpless, completely at the mercy of the creature — of Cas — and he loved it.

Without the means to escape the touches, or the eyes, Dean let go. He simply let it happen. Cas showed no reservations either. Fingers brushed over Dean’s skin and tentacles explored any body opening they could find. They seemed to probe him everywhere.

Dean should have been terrified as a blunt force pressed against his hole while fingers pried open his mouth, yet he felt nothing but intoxication. Tears pricked his eyes. Even though he wanted to shout, the only sounds that escaped him were those of ecstasy.

His body was aflame, and there was nothing he wanted more.

In a place of nothingness, everything was Cas. Grace tickled his skin until it glowed in an eerie blue light. Dean sobbed as every part of his being started to tingle at once. Every fibre in his body burned with anticipation, with need. Even his toes prickled with desire.

“Cas,” he gasped helplessly.

Sweat stood on his forehead. His breathing turned shallow, and Dean already felt as if he was going to explode when Cas chuckled.

Thousands of eyes lit up in merriment, and Dean understood. Horror filled him and paralysed by the sudden comprehension, his want skyrocketed. He wanted that goddamn angel so much it already ripped him apart at his core, but Dean knew that the main part was yet to come.

His screams of terror filled the void because, even though Dean was about to burst, Cas hadn’t started yet. Not really.

Whatever had been going on so far could barely be called foreplay. The powers that had Dean in their clutches were so unfathomable, they surpassed human comprehension by miles.

Dean wanted it; wanted nothing more than being taken by Cas, even though his terror knew no bounds. Cas could shatter him to pieces and splinter every single one of Dean’s atoms into the void until nothing remained of him. And Dean yearned for it. He yearned to be taken apart by the being he had loved for years.

He had never pictured their first time like this, but so be it. Dean wanted nothing more because only one thing outweighed his terror.

Desire burned through his veins. He wanted. He needed. He—

Loved.

“Cas,” Dean whimpered.

Compared to Cas, Dean was nothing but an ant, an amoeba, and still that weird eldritch being loved him. All his doubts had vaporised the moment the creature — Cas — had looked at him.

Every touch, even the tiniest pat, every flicker of Grace spoke volumes. Cas loved him back. The concept was so tremendous, it was impossible to grasp. Dean didn’t even attempt to try it. Instead, he gave himself to his lover.

His muscles relaxed as a gentle hum felt the bubble Cas had created for them out of the void. Warmth filled Dean’s body as he floated in the air, held up by countless arms and other appendages. The tips of the tentacles glowed bright, outshining Cas’ essence that enshrouded them both. Each time they touched Dean’s skin they sent a shock through him.

Before long, Dean couldn’t take any more. He whimpered. His body was aflame, though he knew Cas wasn’t done yet. Tears filled his eyes as the need to come reached spheres he hadn’t deemed possible. Yet, while his body shimmered with Cas’ Grace, his orgasm kept building.

Dean opened his mouth as a tendril brushed over it, and Cas pushed it inside, gently as if to make sure not to harm him. Almost at once, fingers closed around Dean’s dick and something blunt pressed against his hole.

His screams were muffled by the thing in his mouth before dying in the endless void. Desperate, Dean kicked his legs and thrashed his arms, but Cas held on to him. His grip was relentless and Dean couldn’t move.

The terror was back, even though he wanted it. He wanted Cas. He wanted this. But it was too much, too much. He couldn’t—

Another shock ran though his body as Grace tickled his hole and flooded him from head to toe. Dean stilled. His heartbeat raced, but he didn’t dare breathe. Although he anticipated what was coming, nothing could have prepared him for the moment Cas breached him.

His angel was moving inside him, filling him up until Dean’s entire world turned upside down. Whatever appendage had pushed inside him, it stiffened and impaled Dean to the fullest.

While Dean still tried to get a grasp on the impossible, the tentacles started to move. Cas coordinated his limbs expertly, and Dean found himself fucked front and rear.

Unable to take it all, Dean’s body went into overdrive. It was too much to comprehend. As the tension spiralled to spheres beyond his grasp, he screamed.

And still, Cas increased the pacing minutely. Dean’s muscles spasmed as the pressure kept rising. Every part of his body burned with desire, with want.

Bound and gagged, he was at Cas’ mercy. Thousands of eyes watched him while every part of his skin was stimulated.

Over and over, Cas thrust into him until Dean shattered. His body collapsed and while he watched the most intense orgasm ripping him apart, Dean’s consciousness hovered over his human form. He still felt every tremble, every spasm, and yet, he was somewhere else.

Grace welcomed him. It morphed through him and wrapped around him until Dean couldn’t distinguish himself from the essence that was his best friend.

He wanted to stay like that forever, wrapped in love, when a shriek of agony pierced the silence.

Cas screamed. All of a sudden, he was ripped from him, and, without a warning, Dean’s consciousness collapsed back into his body. Discarded like an unwanted toy, Dean crashed to the ground. Every fibre of his body hurt while the unrelenting darkness took a hold of him again.

Once again, his senses died. Hulled in total darkness, his wails died in his throat. Dean couldn’t even hear his whimpers when his hole clenched around nothing and made it unmistakably clear that he was utterly alone.

While Dean’s senses were torn from him, soreness and pain persisted. Naked and abused, Dean sobbed voicelessly, though the abrupt loneliness was even worse. Robbed of the immediate source of his elation, all that remained was torment.

There was nothing but agony as Dean ached for his angel. He yearned for Cas and the gentleness that had been taken from him.

Spasms were still ripping at his overextended body, and Dean curled up on the floor in a fetal position. Tears streamed down his face, though the feedback of their existence slowly subsided. As the world around him died, his mind was trapped in a vessel of pain.

Dean wanted for it to end when a streak of light split the darkness.

Blinded by the sudden brightness, Dean screamed. His cry of terror pierced the silence and echoed a thousandfold until it died.

When his eyes finally adapted to the light, a dark silhouette was walking towards him. Terrified, Dean shrunk back, yet his worn-out body shut down.

“No, no, no,” Dean whispered weakly, unable to fight back.

He flinched when a hand touched his arm.

“Dean,” Sam said, “it’s me.”

Dean blinked at his brother. He tried to smile, but the strain was too much.

“What happened?” Sam asked.

“Cas,” Dean breathed out.

“That’s impossible,” Sam blurted out.

As his brother turned his face, the stray light lit Sam’s face, and Dean froze. Sam’s grasp around his arm tightened as he stared back to the door in horror.

Dean followed his gaze and his breath stopped. Cold dread gripped him because, there, in the doorway, highlighted by the bluish light of the corridor, was Cas.

His Cas: human-shaped — complete with crooked head, squint, and trench coat.

“No,” Dean whimpered, terrified. “No.”

“Shh,” Sam tried to soothe him, but it was to no avail.

Dean heaved. Every fibre of his body burned with agony while the horror ripped him apart. “No.”

Sam tried to get a hold of him, but Dean fought him until his system shut down.

“Cas, help me,” Sam shouted as he lifted Dean up, but even through his half-closed eyelids Dean could see that Cas didn’t stir and simply kept staring at them from the door.

He didn’t move until Sam rushed towards him. At the very last moment, just before they would have collapsed inside the doorway, Cas stepped aside. While Sam walked through it, the door slammed and vanished into thin air and with it, whatever horrors lay behind it.

“Help me,” Sam ordered again, and this time, when he carefully placed Dean on the cold floor, Cas was by their side.

A sad smile covered his face as he knelt down next to Dean. For a moment, he watched him closely.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Sorrow filled his eyes until he laid his hand on Dean’s forehead. The fluorescent lamp above them exploded, and for the first time since the creature’s retreat, the horror was gone.

Dean felt whole.

Grace flickered between them, and Dean smiled. “It really was you.”

“That’s impossible,” Sam chimed in, but Dean only had eyes for his angel.

Confusion stood on Cas’ face and he shook his head. “I—I was here, with Sam,” he stated, though Dean could see the doubts forming on his forehead.

Weakly, Dean reached out for him. When he touched Cas’ wrist, Cas’ eyes widened. Encouraged by the reaction, Dean turned around and pressed as much of his body against his angel.

“You can feel it, can’t you?” Dean asked while exhaustion swept over him. Yet, he fought against it and pried his eyes wide open. “It was you.”

Seconds ticked by. When Cas didn’t react, Dean’s stomach clenched and the horror returned full force. As nausea rolled through him, a whimper escaped him.

Trapped in the memories of his nightmare, Dean didn’t notice anything until a hand gripped his shoulder.

Terror turned into pleasure and when Dean finally looked up, a broad smile covered Cas’ face.

“Yes, Dean,” he said, and waves of relief rushed through Dean’s body.

“Awesome,” Dean mumbled sleepily before giving in to his exhaustion.

***

Sam stared in horror at his brother. Red streaks covered almost every part of Dean’s body, and he remembered the terror on his face when he had found him.

Whatever had happened behind that door must have been a nightmare, yet the happy smile on Dean’s sleeping form contradicted his worst imaginings.

Frowning, Sam looked up, only to find Dean’s delighted smile mirrored on Cas’ face. It felt like a punch in his gut. A cold shudder ran down his spine. Somewhere he must have walked into the uncanny valley.

Cas was—

“Who are you?” Sam snapped.

Fear grabbed him when Cas focused on him. The angel, or whoever it was, tilted his head and squinted at Sam. “Are you alright?”

“Me?” Sam asked.

Cas’ squint intensified. “Is there anyone else?”

Sam blinked. Bewildered, he evaded Cas’ gaze and followed the movements of his hands. They kept trailing over Dean’s body, brushing over the naked skin at places that were more than inappropriate.

Disgusted, Sam intervened. “Get your hands off my brother,” he cried out and pushed Cas away.

Though he stood no chance against an angel. Sam was fighting an immovable rock. The momentum threw him back and he crashed to the ground, sliding over the floor until he came to a halt at the wall.

Cas’ squint turned into a frown. “It must be hard to understand,” he said cryptically while pulling Dean nearer to him and caressing him diligently.

Sam glared at him, but he kept his distance. If he didn’t know better, he would have sworn he had run into a predator with his prey.

Though this was Castiel, or was it?

“Who are you?” Sam pressed, and Cas sighed.

“I’m sorry, Sam.” Cas actually looked ashamed.

Sam’s confusion intensified. “What the hell?” he asked and sat up, staring at his friend. Though he knew better than to attack again.

The light around Cas dimmed, and Sam realised that the angel was the only remaining light source in the corridor.

“I barely understand it myself,” Cas said. When his eyes found Sam’s they were full of regret.

Sam huffed. “Is he okay?” he asked and glanced at his brother.

“Dean is fine.” The smile on Cas’ face returned while he bathed the hallway in a warm light. “The sight must be shocking to you,” he stated and trailed his finger along one of the most irritated stripes on Dean’s skin. “It is no wonder. Encountering my true form can be overwhelming.”

Sam gasped. “What?” Disbelievingly, he stared at his friend. “That’s impossible.”

They had been in the library the whole time, digging through ancient tomes and files until they had found the key to the door.

Already spooked after what he had witnessed in the corridor, Sam hadn’t left Cas out of his sight once. Not even when they had gathered the ingredients for the spell that finally opened the gateway to the other universe.

“You were here. We opened the door.” Sam shook his head. “How—”

“I don’t know,” Cas admitted. “But I was with Dean as well.”

“You what?” Sam blurted out, taken aback by the turn of events. It wasn’t what he had expected.

Cas seemed to be as consternated as Sam felt himself.

“I can’t really explain it,” Cas confessed. “At least not without having listened to Dean’s version first.” He sighed. “But I can assure you that it was me who did this.” His gaze trailed over Dean’s body, clearly taking in its misused state.

“Geez,” Sam breathed and leant back against the wall, massaging his temples. “And you… You’re okay with it? I mean…” Anger burned through him. “Just look at him!”

Grace flickered in Cas’ eyes and, for a fraction of a second, the shadows of his wings appeared on the wall.

Sam flinched at the demonstration of power, and he instinctively clasped his hand around the angel blade that he carried with him.

When the light show was over, a blush spread over Cas’ face, and Sam gaped at him.

“He liked it,” Cas stated bluntly while the blush intensified.

“No,” Sam whispered as understanding dawned on him. “No,” he protested half-heartedly, not wanting to believe it, even though everything fell into place.

Cas smiled, and Sam felt nauseous. He didn’t want to know.

“Dean liked it very much,” Cas stated anyway, and vanquished the remaining shred of doubt Sam carried with him. “Though I fear my true form has overexerted him.”

“You think?” Sam quipped, but raised his hands in defence when Cas opened his mouth to answer. “Stop it. Please, Cas.” A shudder ran down his back. “I—I don’t want to know. I—” He jumped to his feet. “I don’t want any part of it. That’s— It’s between you and Dean. Take him to his room, and do… whatever you do.”

When Sam stumbled back, Cas leant down and placed a gentle kiss on Dean’s forehead.

“Oh, God,” Sam groaned and pressed his eyes shut. He felt as if he had intruded in their bedroom.

Dean was okay, and everything else wasn’t Sam’s problem. The horrors his mind came up with were already too much to take. Where was the brain bleach when he needed it. Maybe he should ask Cas, or Rowena.

Probably Rowena. She was the better choice, now that Cas—

Hell, Sam was happy for his brother and his angel, but he needed to be as far away from them as he could be when Dean woke. Let them be. Let them have whatever they needed. Sam was out.

On his way to the garage, he grabbed his coat and duffel before leaving the Bunker. He could visit Jody and the girls, or look for a hunt on his own. Whatever it was, he needed to stay clear of the Bunker for the next few days.

***

Castiel barely noticed that Sam was gone because the moment his lips brushed over Dean’s, he was whole again. Smiling, he pulled Dean up and cradled the sleeping human in his arms.

The last remaining piece of the puzzle had finally fallen into place and Castiel understood. He hadn’t been able to tell before, but now he knew.

When the door had fallen shut the first time, it had split his being. While his Grace followed Dean inside the other universe, his vessel, or rather his body, had stayed behind.

A remnant of his Grace must have remained in his human form, shrouding the truth from him while he was with Sam.

He would never forget the panic that had gripped him when Dean had been trapped behind that door. It had only been soothed the moment he laid eyes on Dean again.

Castiel still didn’t understand why his true form hadn’t been with Dean when they found him, but he suspected that Sam’s spell had something to do with it. It had almost knocked him out, and he only recovered when the door opened.

At first, Castiel had ascribed it to the relief of being able to save Dean, but he knew better. When Sam entered the other universe, Castiel had been reunited with himself.

He smiled. Not only had Dean recognised him in his true form, but his human had willingly crossed the line that Castiel had deemed insurmountable. Dean had given him the one thing Castiel had thought he could never have, in a way that surpassed his wildest fantasies.

Whatever doubts had remained, they had dissolved the moment his lips had met Dean’s. Castiel could still discern the echoes of his Grace resonating in ecstasy.

Carefully, Castiel lifted Dean’s sleeping form from the ground and got up. When he pressed Dean’s body closer to his, Dean hummed contentedly and nuzzled the crook of Castiel’s neck.

Castiel trailed his gaze over Dean’s skin and brushed his fingers gently over the red marks his celestial form had left there. They seemed horrific to the human eye. In hindsight, they must have freaked Sam out, but Castiel knew better.

Those marks were the evidence of a love that transcended universes. A love that shouldn’t be possible. Yet, Dean had surpassed boundaries beyond human comprehension.

The unwavering faith he had displayed had strengthened Castiel’s powers like nothing else could. Grace flooded through his veins, and Castiel stretched his revitalised wings beyond their conventional confines.

He moaned as his true form enfolded, even though it was nothing compared to the universe Dean had been trapped in.

Still, Castiel hadn’t felt this complete in a very long time. Smiling, he pressed his lips against Dean’s temple and closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, the corridor had vanished. Instead, he was standing in front of Dean’s bed. Carefully, Castiel placed his human on the sheets. For a while, he kept watching him before taking off his clothes.

Naked, Castiel slid next to Dean. When their skin touched, Dean stirred. Sleepily, he blinked over his shoulder, confused, until he caught sight of Castiel.

A broad smile broke free on his face, and Castiel sighed, relieved.

“Hello, Dean,” he greeted his human.

“Thought I’d dreamt,” Dean mumbled and pressed against him.

“A nightmare?” Castiel asked, holding his breath, but Dean shook his head before turning around and pulling Castiel into a kiss.

“Nope,” he murmured as he sunk against Castiel’s lips. “It’s so much better.”