Supernatural One-Shots

Crypt

Red flooded his vision, as the violent beating was administered to him calmly and carefully. Dean tasted metal, foul and all-too-familiar in his mouth.

Red... and blue. Cold, blank blue staring back at him, empty of anything Dean might have recognised once. One precise, long-fingered hand was on his mutilated forearm, holding it up, causing sharp pangs to shoot up under his skin and pulling more gasps from his broken lips.

Somewhere, thunder was crashing, and strikes of lightning illuminated the crypt with violent flashes of light. The piercing light caught the angel's dark hair as he fought, organised and lethal.

Dean was babbling. The words weren't appearing to have an effect, but he had to keep trying, he knew he had to. He had to reach Cas, somehow. He was family. He was Dean's family.

He wasn't aware of what he was saying exactly, only having a faint coherency of the words that continued pouring from his brain out of his mouth.

Cas. Cas. Cas.

The blows rained down.

We're family. I need Cas.

Red.

Have to save Cas. Have to stop this. I need Cas.

He was so close. So close to darkness, to no more red. Just black.

Black meant no more blue. No.

This isn't Cas. Isn't Cas.

Cas.

The blows stopped, and Dean swayed under the hold of the angel. He looked up. Blue. Blue again.

I know Cas is in there. I know Cas can hear me. We're family. We need Cas. Cas. Cas. Cas. I need Cas.

I need you.

The crypt was silent. Then, jarring, the sound of a blade clattering to the floor. The grip left his arm. Dean groaned, swaying again.

Light - ethereal, bright, terrible - suddenly filled the room, and instead of black it was white that Dean saw as he brought an arm up to weakly shield his face.

The light faded, and Cas was in front of him again, holding the stone tablet in his hands. He looked down at Dean, mouth parted slightly and eyes glistening.

"Cas? Cas?" Dean could hear his voice again, and it was broken, his breath ragged.

Cas reached out, and Dean flinched.

"No," Dean begged, as the hand settles on his cheek. "Cas. Cas!"

Then the red disappeared, Cas lingering his hand on Dean's face before letting him go.

*

"So, this 'Naomi' has been controlling you since she got you out of Purgatory?" Dean asked, still feeling unsteady on his feet.

"Yeah," Cas replied quietly. He's staring at the tablet, running his fingers over the markings.

"Well, w-what broke the connection?" Dean stuttered, imploring Cas to look at him.

Cas is silent when he meets Dean's gaze, and feels like crying when he sees the warmth in his eyes again. The care, the love. What had been missing.

It was overwhelming. So much so that he was soon surging forward, grabbing Cas's face and sealing their lips together securely. Finally he knew exactly what those chapped lips felt like against his.

A second passed before Cas responded. He gave a small whimper, dropping the tablet onto the table beside them and scrambling for the lapels of Dean's jacket, yanking him closer when he caught them. The kiss was not perfect; it was lacking in technique, too urgent to be orchestrated carefully. Their faces weren't moving together elegantly, desperate as they collided and slotted together. They kept needing to adjust, finding that each angle they tried simply wasn't enough. Not after four years of need and longing that had gone unexpressed.

Dean's hands found Cas's hips and he turned them, pushing him backwards against the table. Cas gasped, and Dean looked at him, lips glistening. After that, it was a messy clash of teeth and tongue, warm and rough. Dean was completely lost in Cas's moans, in the sensation of Cas under him, pliant and solid all at the same time...

"Dean?!" Sam's voice suddenly cried from somewhere above, muffled by the cement walls.

Cas broke off from Dean's lips, his hands coming to rest on his neck. Dean was panting heavily, tightening his hold on Cas as he turned his head back towards the entrance.

"Sam?" Dean shouted, fearful.

"They're in trouble," Cas whispered. Dean turned back to him, his expression wanting and needing and open. "Dean, I-"

"We have to go," Dean said softly, brushing a thumb over Cas's cheek, his voice an octave lower than usual. "We can - uh - we'll finish this later, ok. Hey, wait you're not - you're not going anywhere, right? You're not going to disappear on me again like last time, are you?"

Cas stared back at him for a second, closed his eyes and shook his head no. Dean pushed one more kiss against his lips, full of silent promise, knotting his hand in his coat. Then he stepped back and Cas was able to straighten up. Dean raked a hand over his hair and face, and Cas picked up the angel tablet shakily. Sam came racing into the room, clearly agitated.

"Dean!"

"Sam? What's wrong? Where's Meg?"

"We got to go," Sam said in way of an answer. "Now."

Cas gathered himself, nodded curtly and drew the brothers to him. Sam closed his eyes in preparation for the uneasy sensation of teleporting, and Cas turned to Dean, meeting his gaze. Cas tilted his face ever so slightly, and Dean longed to catch it, feeling the sensation of his five o'clock shadow brush against his skin.

Cas was here. Heaven couldn't control him anymore. They weren't in frigging Purgatory. He wasn't amnesiac. He wasn't crazy. He was just Cas. He was Cas and he was here with Dean, about to resume his rank by his side, fighting like he had been in the beginning. And it was now that Dean wanted to grab hold of him and hold him close, longing for the two of them to be able to stay in that state, forever, not letting anybody sabotage it again.

Instead, Dean gave an affirming nod, and Cas found his hand at the same moment he pressed two fingers to Sam's forehead.