Smoke

“Cas?”

Dean couldn’t see him at first, but once he made it down to the stream at the end of the garden he saw Cas standing staring at the water. Maybe he was thinking of another stream, back when Cas had thought he was meant to be in a different realm from Dean.

“You okay?” Dean asked.

They always seemed to be asking each other that question.

“They think I should atone in Hell,” Cas said.

He sounded shell-shocked.

“No-one said anything about atoning,” Dean said. “Hannah and Bela, they’re just thinking who might be up to the job. And you’ve got form for leading, no question. But I’m not naming you my Regent or whatever. I’m not even sure I’m gonna use the damn lamp. We can come up with another way.”

“What if we can’t? And you have to admit, Hell’s been a mess for years. And it only keeps causing trouble. This way, perhaps we can put an end to it for good. Order has to be better than chaos.”

“What happened to peace or freedom?” Dean asked.

Cas glanced at him, but the trouble didn’t lift from his eyes.

“Cas, come on,” Dean said. “I’m not using you like that. And I’m not having anyone rip you up to make me a Knight, either. We’ll get rid of these cultists, we’ll come up with some solution for Hell, and we’ll move you into the Bunker properly. You understand?”

Cas’ eyes widened a little, and Dean had time to realize what he’d said. Well, screw it. He wanted Cas to stay. He wanted Cas to be with him. So it wasn’t the most romantic of proposals, if you could call this a proposal, but they weren’t the romance types. Cas just needed to know he was wanted. And Dean wanted him.

“Yes,” Cas said. “Yes, I understand. We’ll find another way.”

Dean just wished he had even a single idea as to what.

**********************************************

The lamp was older than human civilization, or so Cas said. Dean wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“And I just light the wick?” he asked. “That’s really it? I don’t have to rub it?”

“You can if it makes you feel better,” Bela said. “I won’t hold it against you.”

Next to him, Cas made an unhappy noise, and Dean resisted the impulse to reach out and soothe the angel. He’d done as much soothing as he could overnight, showing Cas exactly how good Dean’s mouth could be just in case something went wrong and that was the last chance he got.

After, with Cas tucked up in Dean’s arms, his head under Dean’s chin and his hair tickling Dean’s throat, they’d talked. Dean had to tell Cas three times that he wasn’t going to end up in Hell, and four times that Dean would give up the powers and be human again.

“Look, that ancient woman did it,” Dean had said. “It can’t be like when I turned last time. This must have more control. And I turned back from being a vampire under my own steam. You just gotta believe me. I am coming back to you.”

But Cas, for whatever reason, had refused to let Dean go alone.

Now, Dean rolled his eyes at Bela, shared a look with Sam, who was pale and tense looking, and lit the wick.

At first, nothing happened. The wick caught, flame flickering in a way that told Dean the far distant past hadn’t been blazing with light at night, and that was it.

“Do I have to recite some spell?” Dean asked.

“No,” Bella said. “Just be patient.”

Moments later, a red glow seeped down the side of the lamp, outlining a symbol Dean didn’t know. Cas, however, sat forward with recognition on his face.

“That’s an old dialect of Enochian,” he said. “A form corrupted by Lucifer.”

The sigil faded, but Dean felt heat flare on his skin and looked down to see the shape form in red lines on his forearm. With it, he felt that disquieting sensation of sliding smoke in the flesh beneath it. It was working.

A second symbol formed on the lamp, and disappeared onto Dean’s back. Then a third to this chest. A fourth to his abdomen.

They sped up, each one bringing more smoke and ash with it, until Dean felt the film slip over his eyes and looked at the world through the warped perceptions of a demon.

Bela was beautiful: sharp and shining black. She smiled at him, an expression which him want to tear at her until she only ever smiled for him, with his permission. He shook the feeling off.

Turning his head, he saw Hannah for the fist time through these eyes, and she shone. Her light was bright and brilliant, white with just an edge of Arctic blue, and tendrils of her light reached out for Bela. Bela lit up with sparks where those tendrils touched her.

Sam looked much the same, but the pain in his eyes was enough to have Dean wanting to smirk. He didn’t. He was still enough himself, under it all, to want to spare his brother further pain.

Which left Cas.

Cas, who was twice as brilliant as Hannah. His Grace was twisted through with black and grey, parts of him warped or wavering. He’d not noticed before, the last time has was a demon, but Cas was mangled. Part of Dean delighted in that.

A final sigil flared into place, and Dean felt the surge of power right down to his marrow.

“How are you?” Cas asked, the love in his eyes almost sickening.

“Peachy,” Dean said. “Let’s go skin us some Dean worshipers.”