Author: Cobalt Mystic (NOTE: this is also being posted under my SPN ID where applicable)
Pairing: Spike/Xander, Dean/Castiel
Spoilers (SPN): let’s just call it S4 and be done with it, yeah
Feedback: Just play nice, and try not to do any permanent damage, k.
Disclaimer: Just playing with the pretty kittens. If they were mine, Cas and Dean would be going at it in front of the camera and Sammy would have stayed dead, so yeah… Unfortunately, neither set are mine, but I will gladly groom and bathe them before sending them back home to their Daddys (aka Joss/Mutant Enemy/et al, Kripke/McG/et al, and a bunch of other corporate-type ppl, who are, in other words, not me).
Beta: My beautiful kitty_alex who loves to correct my mistakes, and not only planted the seeds of Dean/Cas but continues to feed the fire, AND has the guts to tell me when my writing sucks!
Warnings/Squicks: boy touching, schmangst, further abuse of Robert Frost poetry
Summary: Dean’s back, Seals are breaking, angels are angsting, and Spike is the voice of reason- why yes, it is the Apocalypse!!!!!
AN1: This is a sequel to Miles to Go a Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Supernatural crossover. With the exception of vampires assume that the SPN laws of demonology and spooks apply.
AN2: Useful information…
- Comics? What comics? We don’t need no stinkin’ comics!
- This verse went AU during AtS S5 @ Damage - this means (among other things) none of the Blackthorn arc has happened and there is no Illyria.
- John Winchester is alive.
- Sammy stayed in law school; never got picked up by Dean.
On the Frost!Verse
- Spike and Xander were formally Mated @ a year and a half- two years before this fic takes place
- Spike’s nickname for Dean is a reference to Vampire Hunter D and not a simple shortening of Dean.
AN3: Takes place roughly 5 yrs after Miles to Go, in other words current SPN timeline.
AN4: I have messed about with the order of some Seal related events from SPN- this was intentional.
AN5: Title and chapter headings are taken from Robert Frost’s The Road Not Taken
The nightmare crashed all around Dean. Memories, visions, people- the Witnesses… and as always, he couldn’t wake up, couldn’t escape.
Even when he did break free the images and voices clung to him like a physical thing, choking him with it’s presence.
Tonight, however, he was woken by a fierce burning in his arm. His terror-filled eyes shot open to see soothing crystal blue ones radiating calm and concern at him. “Cas,” he sighed. “That hurt, you know.” Dean lightly rubbed his arm where the angel had marked him months ago, realizing that the burn he felt had been Castiel placing his hand on the scar.
“I’m sorry, Dean. You seemed to be in distress.”
“Aw, Cas. I didn’t know you cared.”
The angel rolled his eyes and Dean wondered if Cas knew he was picking up human traits.
“I have always been,” Castiel paused as if searching for the appropriate word, “concerned for you.”
Sighing, Dean sat up against the headboard, “I know Cas, guardian angel and all that crap.” Dean’s sardonic tone left no doubt as to what he thought of the angel’s guardianship and ‘concern’.
“Dean, please. I didn’t come to fight.”
“What is it then, Cas?” his own voice tempered by the pleading in his angel’s.
Castiel’s brow furrowed, and he sat next to Dean on the bed, “I needed to…” hesitating Castiel shook his head. “It’s nothing.”
“Cas, you show up here in the middle of the night, wake me up because you’re worried about me, and now it’s nothing? Sorry,” Dean made an annoying buzzer noise, “wrong answer. Would you care to try again?”
“It’s… I…,” Castiel turned to face the smart mouthed mortal.
Dean was startled by the dark, hungry look in Cas’ normally cool gaze. “Cas? You okay, man?”
“I don’t know, Dean,” he answered sadly. “I want.” Without further warning or explanation Castiel leant forward, pressing his hesitant lips to Dean’s.
Pulling back slowly, his now steel coloured eyes bore into the hunter’s, “I want,” he whispered.
There was a rustle of air and the angel was gone.
For a moment, Dean just stared at the place his angel had occupied, before closing his eyes and whispering, “Cas… I want, too.”
Suddenly, it was all too much. He had to get out, get away from this room, from his friends, just OUT. Dean threw his legs over the bed, quickly pulling on his jeans and shirts.
Just as Dean was closing the door behind him, a pale elegant hand wrenched it back open.
Piercing blue eyes, more crystalline than those of his angel, peered questioningly at the hunter, “You know, most people tell their mates when they’re running off in the middle of the night.”
“Most people don’t have these kinds of problems.”
Wordlessly, Spike slipped out the door, closing it firmly behind them. “Problems like knowing there’s a darkness inside you and even though you don’t have to fight against it every minute of every day you can’t ever forget that it’s there, just below the surface? And you know, you just know, that your mere presence taints the people you care most about and eventually your darkness will destroy all that’s good about them?” The vamp leaned against the closed door, thumbs hooked in his belt loops, a knowing look playing softly across his face, “those kinds of problems?”
Dean puffed a short hard breath of air out his nose, lowering and shaking his head, “Guess we’re a pair, aren’t we, Penfold?” The hunter clasped Spike’s shoulder, “Thanks, man.”
He chuckled wryly, “Though you forgot the part about having a hard-on for an angel.”
“Did I?” the blonde asked, tilting his head as if he could see through the door to his dark lover asleep on their bed. Slanting his expressive blue eyes toward Dean, “Thought I covered that rather well.”
“Maybe, you did,” Dean acknowledged. Looking up at the clear night sky, things felt simple for the first time in months, “I’ll be back before dawn.”
Spike nodded, “In the morning then,” and went back inside to his Mate.
It had been close to two hours since Dean had left the motel, but the night was cool, the air fresh, and the thoughts weighing on his mind plentiful.
Spike had been right, damn vampire usually was when it came to these things. Dean found himself laughing, remembering five years ago and the reason Willow had sent Xander to meet him and his father. He could still hear her satisfied, chirping voice declaring ‘Of course you two get along. You’re just like Spike, only human,’ and these days that description seemed even more accurate.
“Damnit!” Dean screamed. He wanted to call for Cas, wanted to make the angel see that he didn’t deserve the angel’s love. “Why can’t you just see it, stupid angel?”
“See what, Dean?”
“See that I’m no good!” The hunter was too lost or perhaps too accustomed to his angel’s sudden appearance to react.
Castiel sighed heavily as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “We have discussed this. I’m at a loss as to how to prove to you otherwise.”
Dean barked a short, hard laugh, “You can’t Cas, just accept that.”
The angel turned his back to the man he simultaneously loved and wanted to pound sense into. “I cannot accept that which I know to be false.”
“You don’t know anything, Cas. You can’t know what I am.”
With sudden clarity Castiel rounded on Dean, his shadowy wings unfurling, a billowing backdrop to serve as a reminder of exactly what Cas was. “I know you, Dean Winchester. I know ALL of you. I know of your life on Earth, of the lives you’ve saved, of those you’ve changed- for good and ill. I know of your time in the Pit- the horrors you suffered and those you suffered unto others. I know you, and I know your heart- the darkness and the light. Still, I stand by you. Still, I place my faith in you. Still, I offer you all that I am. I know you, Dean Winchester, and you are a great man.”
For long moments, Dean stared at Castiel, awestruck by his words and even more so by the realization that he believed them. When Dean finally found his voice all he could manage was, “You knew?”
Castiel’s hard blue eyes softened and the hint of a smile played at his lips as he nodded once.
“And still?” Dean asked in amazement.
“And still,” the angel confirmed.
Dean’s world closed in around him. The dark gossamer feathers of his angel’s wings filling his vision; the wisp of their cloud-like touch brushing his cheek. He wanted to lose himself in the quiet touch.
A warm hand slipped behind Dean’s neck, pulling him to the angel. Lips touched, slowly at first, feeling their way over their tender counterparts.
Then tongues met, teeth clashed, and the world fell away as hunter and angel fell to the ground. The blanket of grass beneath them soft and comforting like one of Dean’s well-worn flannels.
“Cas, please,” the hazel-eyed hunter gasped, need and want vying for control of his voice.
The angel sat up, still straddling his hunter. Cocking his head, a tiny smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, “Have faith Dean,” Castiel gently stroked the side of Dean’s face.
Dean’s hands gripped the angel’s hips tightly as if he were afraid the angel would vanish without his touch. “I have faith in you, but if you don‘t fuck me soon…” he growled.
Castiel leant forward placing a chaste kiss on his hunter’s lips, “I have no intention of ‘fucking’ anyone. Especially, not you.”
For a split second, Dean’s face was a tableau of anguish, but Cas ignored it, favouring his task of removing Dean’s shirt.
“To share yourself with another is the greatest joy our Father gave to humans. It should be undertaken with reverence and love.” Eyes that sparkled like the midnight sky, deep, blue, and eternal, bore into Dean’s, driving home the angel’s words.
No more words were spoken. Desires were known and fulfilled by instinct. The only sounds coming from the heat and friction of two bodies learning each other.
Castiel pulled Dean’s shirts over his head, running his hands up and down the mortal’s chest. Fingers stopping to trace the protection tattoo above Dean’s heart, before placing a loving kiss in the centre of the ward.
Dean’s own hands worked to reach the angel’s skin, untucking his dress shirt to wriggle his night-chilled hands against his angel.
Sharing his lover’s desire, Castiel removed his coat and jacket, managing to loosen his tie before both he and his hunter became impatient, ripping the fabric of his shirt, sending the small buttons sailing wildly into the darkness.
As Dean mapped the angel’s pale chest, Cas fought with belts and zippers; somehow managing to remove both his and his hunter’s remaining clothing. Careful fingers explored Dean’s body, touching, memorizing, and lavishing love on every patch of skin.
Dean revelled in the feel of his angel, his closeness a balm to every part of him. He thrust up against Castiel, their erections rubbing wetly against each other, sending sparks throughout both their bodies. As Dean’s hands grasped for purchase against the angel’s flesh, they trailed over the base of Cas’ dark wings causing the angel to shiver and gasp.
Green eyes flared at the wantonness of the angel’s cry, only to have the gaze be mirrored by the angel himself. Greedily, Dean repeated the action, his heart racing even higher with every sound that escaped his angel’s open mouth.
With the skill and subtly that comes from being an Angel of the Lord, Cas began opening and stretching himself to take his hunter. He was well aware that Dean still didn’t find himself deserving and that the mortal wanted nothing so much as to crawl inside Cas and never leave. The angel hoped that this act would ease Dean, at least in part.
A third finger joined the two already in Cas’ body; he moaned at the added intrusion from his lover, his dark wings jerking with the pleasure the stretch gave him. Looking down into darkly dilated eyes, Castiel knew they were both ready for this.
The angel rose up, wings stretched out allowing the cool night breeze to caress them, heightening his sensations even more. Griping Dean’s throbbing erection, Castiel positioned himself and slid down sharply onto the man he loved.
Dean clutched the feathers his fingers had been gently stroking, and Cas’ channel tightened in response. Passion was burning inside them, hot, searing, and celestial like the brand on Dean’s shoulder. As they thrust against and into each other, eyes locked in a promise of wills and the future. Their need and desire was reaching a crescendo.
Cas wrapped his hand around Dean’s scarred shoulder, heat and power and love flowing easily between them.
A howl escaped the hunter’s lips as he thrust one final time into his angel, screaming his name as he came.
The stillness of the dark night was shattered by the spread and thunder of the angel’s wings fully expanding, blotting the sky and creating a void of passion. With a shudder and whispered cry of Dean’s name, Cas followed his hunter into ecstasy.
When Dean awoke, he was back in his motel room, a sad knowledge tickling his gut. He’d wanted last night to last, to be able to wake up with his angel at his side, but he had known from the beginning that was not likely to happen. He was damaged and the angel pure.
“You know, you have to stop thinking like that,” a rough but melodious voice whispered.
“Like what?” Dean asked wondering how much of his thoughts the angel could hear.
Castiel simply shook his head, and smiled at his lover. He walked to the bed, reaching out a hand to cup Dean’s face, “Spike and Xander took another room; Spike seemed to think we would want some privacy.”
Dean smiled and gripped his angel’s hand, wrapping his other arm around the slightly smaller man and pulling him to him. “Sometimes, Penfold has wonderful ideas.”