A/N – Sorry I haven't updated in ages, I had a MASSIVE bout of writer's block, and school has started again which is a bitch but I'll try and update more regularly. This is my first time writing a bit of smut so I played it safe but I've read my fair share so hopefully there will be some more saucy stuff later ;) Sorry for any errors I literally churned it out in an hour after inspiration hit and don't want to keep y'all waiting!

-Noonie

-Chapter seven 'Angel Dust'-

This is not how I envisaged my human life going, Castiel reflected as he took a lung wrenchingly long drag of the fat cigar he'd been distributed by a pug ugly man, extravagantly dressed with a fiercely gelled moustache.

His eyes watered as he attempted to keep the smoke in his lungs without coughing. Too late, unfortunately, He'd been told that you weren't meant to inhale too much cigar smoke; rather one should 'taste' it.

Why anyone would smoke just for taste was beyond him. At least he got some sort of gain out of wilfully ruining his lungs.

He wasn't sure quite how he'd ended up tangled up in what appeared to be an underground drug ring. All he knew is that he'd followed Luiz, José the drug dealer's less intimidating associate, down a flight of steps concealed by a shabby and inconspicuous street door.

Somehow he'd ended up here.

I'm really becoming an honorary Winchester, he mused, making reckless snap decisions that could potentially get him killed.

Luiz was a tall and extremely well muscled latino man with a killer moustache (what was with moustaches today?) and a sense of humour to match. They'd met on his weekly shopping trip (José's preferred meeting spot was conveniently right around the corner from a large grocery store) and the tall man had taken a liking to Castiel instantly.

"Ah hello! It is you! José here tells me you are good customer. One of the best." He'd boomed, clapping Castiel on the back.

"Um, I suppose. Sorry but who are you? I was under the impression there was customer confidentiality in this business."

He made a conscious effort to sound calm and collected despite being a little bit scared and very uncomfortable.

"Oh don't worry, friend, you are safe with me, always. Luiz Castro, at your service." The hulk of a man held his large hand out to Castiel, who took it gingerly.

He couldn't hold back the yelp that passed his lips as Luiz pulled him into a bone crushing hug. When he managed to wiggle free he straightened up his t shirt and put a bit more distance between him and the man in case of another surprise bear hug.

"Hohoho you must forgive me friend I forget my strength and you are muy delicada, like a little chiquita."

Sadly Castiel had lost his ability to understand different languages when he lost his grace however he had enough basic Spanish to sense his manliness was being attacked.

"Sorry, but what business do you have with me?" He snapped.

"Fiesty too, my brother would like you. Yes, very much like you."

"Basta, Luiz. Estamos aqui por negocios, pervertido." José snapped in Spanish, his eyes dark and sinister under thick black eyebrows. He was the sort of person who looked like he could kill a man in several different ways without lifting a finger.

Somewhat like Lucifer, actually.

Considering the devil had actually killed him once with a snap of his fingers, he was understandably on guard.

"Sorry, my friend here is very impatient. We have proposition for you, very valued customer."

"Proposition?"

Castiel was starting to feel apprehensive. What could two latino drug dealers possibly want from him, a slight, pasty looking white man who probably smoked enough pot to keep half a small drug cartel afloat?

"I see the worry in your eyes, hombre, do not worry. There is a place we'd like to invite you to. Fine company, free product, very elite clientele. You would be very welcome."

Castiel had agreed on a reckless impulse and followed Luiz. Plus he kind of wanted to get away from José.

One meeting with him a week was enough, thank you very much.

There was even a metal bolted door with a sliding grill on the way down through which the man muttered what could've possibly been a password to a pair of dark eyes the other side.

And that was how Castiel came to be sitting in some seedy underground members-only club in which all sorts of illegal activities were transpiring. From his short trip to a brothel with Dean he could also identify prostitutes wandering around, scantily clad with men in tow.

Gambling was also rife – there was many green velvet tables surrounded by rich looking men smoking cigars like his. Their gaudy red and blue plastic chips reminded Castiel oddly of pancake stacks; the men tossed them around like they were nothing – like they didn't represent hundreds of thousands of dollars.

Smoke of all varieties hung heavy in the air like blanket.

This was truly a den of iniquity; how far he had sunk – Castiel former leader of an entire angel garrison.

It was so absurd.

He couldn't help chuckle out loud at the bathos.

"What is funny, mi querido?" Pablo purred in his ear.

That was another thing. Luiz hadn't been joking about his brother; Pablo Castro definitely took a liking to him. He was practically pawing Castiel; scratch that, he was pawing him.

The man smelled familiar, like cinnamon, which simultaneously put him at ease and made him feel vaguely guilty though he wasn't sure why.

Pablo had sauntered up to him as soon as Luiz had escorted him inside. He was flamboyantly dressed with flawlessly gelled hair and an incredible physique to match his incredible looks. He looked like the Adonis figure of classical literature – all angles and pouty lips.

An image of Dean bubbled to the surface of his mind, but he quickly pushed it back down as he always did.

From a strictly objective neutral point of view he thought Pablo was quite attractive. To other people, of course, obviously not him. He was above carnal desires like that.

And besides, although Castiel didn't know much about human sexuality he reckoned he wasn't supposed to find men attractive. Or something like that.

He suddenly remembered that Pablo had asked him a question and that gawping at his beauty did not constitute an answer.

"I'm just…this place, my life. It's funny."

"This place ain't funny, boy. I've been waiting years to get in, yet you just stroll in here all dewy eyed and innocent, queer as you like. Where's the equality in that? America, land of the free I tell you, letting people like you walk free," Interjected Harley Waterman, a well to do southern country gentlemen with an irritatingly twangy accent. He was sitting two chairs over and

Being called 'boy' really raised his hackles. He was no boy. He'd lived millions of years, he'd been old before humans had even clawed their way out of the mud.

Castiel was about to stand and fiercely defend his honour, fuelled by the liquor he'd ingested and the fumes he'd inhaled, when Pablo stopped him. Instead, the other man rose and fixed Mr. Waterman with a cold stare.

"How dare you, sir. Angel is here because he was picked to be here. He did not need to suck up to boss men. In this establishment we prize good company and you are coming of as a pequeno hombre tonto. You are the boy here. Now run along to your mamá" Pablo growled. The redneck flushed with anger but swallowed his words and slinked away to another corner of the sordid venue.

"Thank you." Castiel said, although he felt emasculated and wasn't sure how he felt about being called 'angel'. It hit slightly too close to home.

"Ees okay. We get many stupidos who think they own the place, strutting round like proud roosters."

"He's right though, what am I doing here? I don't exactly fit in." Castiel chuckled.

"You are here because I like you. And now we are alone."

"I suppose we are."

His pulse sped up at Pablo's suggestive tone. A quick scan revealed the other man was right; all nearby company in their secluded corner of plush velvet had disappeared.

"How about another drink?" Castiel suggested. The way this was going, he would need it.

"Of course, can not let my angel go thirsty." He made a quick series of hand gestures to a waiter, who glided off and swiftly returned with two glasses of what he thought might be bourbon.

"It is to compliment cigar. They go well together, it is like music to the taste buds." Pablo said theatrically. Just as Castiel had taken a sip from the glass, he caught sight of something shiny being passed from the waiter to the flamboyant Spaniard.

"What is that?" He asked curiously. Pablo's lip curled seductively.

"Angel Dust of course, for you. It is only fitting." He tapped the little plastic container, displaying the delicate crystals within. Castiel's heart sped up, he was fairly sure he was being offered a dangerous and totally illegal drug.

"I've never heard of it before." He said hesitantly.

"Ah, I forgot the science name, something beginning with P. Worry not, it'll make you see stars."

Dean's disapproving face swam to the forefront of his mind. Again, he quashed the thought with a bit of effort; the haze of alcohol clouding his mind making it considerably easier.

Dean wasn't here, he didn't get a vote.

Besides, he rationalised, I've already done drug deals, plus being here is surely illegal. This isn't anything too different.

He'd crossed a line a while back, what was the use of pretending he hadn't? If he was out of the garden anyways, he might as well enjoy the forbidden fruit.

"How do I take it?"

Pablo shot him a dazzling smile and opened the plastic container, taking two pinches worth of crystals out and two things that looked like straws out of his breast pocket.

"Like this, I'll show you first, then you'll see it's safe. Trust me." He said gently, squeezing Castiel's hand. It was an intimate gesture that made him burn hot, feel giddy and caused a strange feeling in his gut all at the same time. It was like someone had reached into his body, grabbed a handful of organs in a clenched fist and was twisting them round.

Human emotions were so complex, even he didn't know what he was feeling sometimes.

In front of him, Pablo arranged the first pinch of crystals in a pile on a small rectangle of card. Then, finger pressed to one side of his nose, he lined up the straw with the pile and his other nostril. He took a deep (yet still attractive) sniff, sucking all the Angel Dust up in one quick movement.

All the while Castiel watched in fascination; it was like a scientific experiment.

"Now you, do just as I did, my angel."

With trepidation and shaking hands (although that was likely due to the alcohol) he took a straw and lined it up with the second pile. He blocked one side of his nose, like Pablo had done. A strange thought flitted through his head that his face didn't feel like his own face.

Taking a deep breath, he inhaled.

It burned Castiel's nostril slightly and left a sort of alkali residue that he could smell every time he breathed in. He looked at Pablo for approval, to check he'd carried out the procedure correctly.

The dazzling latino nodded back, lids already heavy.

"How long until – " He began to ask. However before he could finish his sentence he was hit with a sense of calm numbness and detachment that washed over him like a wave.

"Huh." He whispered. There were no stars: Pablo was wrong about that, but he did feel like he was floating several metres above his body.

He was weightless, suspended in midair like a moat of dust. Shallow breathing resulted in a giddy feeling; he was on top of the world.

"Do you feel what I feel?" a voice came from beside him. Suddenly Pablo was there too, floating beside him.

"I feel it."

"No, do you feel what I feel?" he was pressed so tightly against Castiel's side that he could feel the other man's shallow breaths tickle his neck.

"I – " he lost the ability to form coherent sentences.

All he wanted was to be touched, to find comfort in another human. His body was on fire and his pulse thudded in his ears. After an odd flash of guilt subsided he lost the will to resist any longer.

A small moan escaped his lips as he arced into the other man's touch. Pablo's lips ghosted down the side of his face and came to rest on his neck, gently sucking and biting right on his pulse point.

"I've never…" He managed to get out between breaths.

"Trust me. I will take good care of you, my angel." He tilted Castiel's face up to look at his. "Such beautiful blue eyes." He leaned in and captured Castiel's lips, who surrendered all too willingly.

The kiss started slow and languid, then got more passionate and desperate as Pablo crushed his lips into Castiel's, snaking his tongue into the shorter man's mouth.

Suddenly he was pulled into the latino's lap, where the vigorous kissing caused a delicious friction that went straight to his groin. Through the morphing haze of the drug Castiel realised they were still in a public place.

"Someone could see us." He half whined, breaking the kiss for a second.

"There is no one. Just us." Pablo reclaimed his lips. He did not resist; there was a part of him that found it exciting that they could be caught at any moment. Besides, it was only them up on their private little cloud. At this point Castiel didn't care much about anything.

He wrapped his arms around the other man's neck, fingertips digging into the tops of his muscular shoulder blades. Pablo removed a hand from Castiel's back where he was pulling them as close together as possible and rested it in on his chest on top of his partially unbuttoned shirt.

When had that happened? He slid his hand down the ex-angel's chest, caressing his hips bones, making Castiel shiver. Pablo's hand paused atop the button of his slacks, silently asking permission. Castiel moaned and leaned into the other man's touch, desperately craving release.

With deft hands Pablo swiftly unbuttoned the shorter man's trousers and slid his hand down again, coming to rest on Castiel's straining erection.

"Please." He whined, bucking his hips.

"Of course, my angel." Pablo whispered, stroking Castiel slowly, who could not help thrusting his hips in time, trying to increase the friction.

"So needy." The latino began to stroke faster and finally he really was seeing stars. He rutted against the other man at a frantic pace; he was so close.

He came with a cry of 'Dean' on his lips.

-0-

"Cas where the hell have you been?" Dean exclaimed once Castiel had half dragged himself through the bunker door the next morning. Castiel sunk further into his chair, feeling rather like a rebellious teenager being caught sneaking back in by his parents after a night out.

"I was…out."

"Out? You left yesterday afternoon! We thought you might've been kidnapped or killed by a pack of demons, for fucks sake!"

"What Dean is trying to say is that we were worried about you. Would it have killed you to leave a note?" Sam interrupted Dean's rant, sounding like the more reasonable parent.

"I apologize, it was not my intention to worry you. I will inform you of my intentions next time." Castiel replied softly.

"That doesn't change the facts. Where the fuck were you, anyway?"

Castiel shook his head, not wanting to reply.

"Cas?" Dean questioned again. He shook his head again, not meeting the older Winchester's piercing gaze.

"Leave it Dean, he doesn't want to say." Sam resigned. He got up and yawned, shaking his head with a small smile on his lips. Sam turned and left the room, leaving Dean and Castiel alone.

"I don't understand, why won't you tell me?"

"Because…" He trailed off, dragging his head up to meet Dean's gaze. The other man's green eyes widened and did a double take, zeroing in on a spot on Castiel's neck.

"Are those? Oh. Ooh." Dean made a quick series of facial expressions that settled on a too-wide grin.

The memory Pablo's ministrations to his neck last night suddenly resurfaced in Castiel's mind. He quickly pulled his collar up, ears burning as he attempted to conceal from sight the purple bruises flowering on his neck and clavicle.

"I see. So you got some, ey Cas?" Dean asked. He nodded in embarrassment.

Dean pulled up a chair and sat backwards on it, legs straddling either side.

"I want a full report then."

He said nothing.

"Was she hot?"

He said nothing.

"Did you go all the way?"

He shook his head.

Dean threw up his hands in exasperation. "C'mon Cas your busting my balls here, why won't you tell me anything about this mystery girl."

Castiel looked guiltily to the side, developing a sudden interest in a small patch of wooden floor.

"There's no reason why you wouldn't, s'not like I'm going to make fun of you." Dean started.

His eyebrows suddenly shot up. "Unless…Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?"

"Was it, er, a guy?" Dean said hoarsely.

Castiel's silence gave him away.

"Oh, ok. That's er…I'm going to, um." The older Winchester went very pale in the face as he tripped over his words. Looking like he'd seen a ghost, he did a quick 360 and marched out of the room, leaving Castiel sitting there alone.

Oh God, he thought, Dean hates me now. He thinks I'm disgusting. He felt panic rising in his chest. Dean had never been outright homophobic, although he made a few derogatory comments now and then. Castiel didn't think he would react this badly. Obviously he was wrong.

The thing is, he didn't think of himself as homosexual. He had only been human for a tiny fraction of his lifespan. When he was an angel he wasn't bound by gender binaries. Angels didn't have genders so he didn't know what to label himself now. Only his vessel was male, he didn't really know about the rest of him.

None of the labels worked for him. What did that make him, a nothing?

He needed to get out of here.

DEAN

Cas was with a guy last night, Dean thought. He couldn't get the thought to stop reverberating through his head.

A guy

A guy

A GUY.

It wasn't like he was homophobic; he knew sometimes he made jokes but he was never serious.

Hell, he'd chatted up guys before. Strictly for information, of course, but still, it would be hypocritical of him to be a homophobe.

He wasn't sure why he was freaking out so much. His chest was tight and he could barely breathe. Taking frantic gulps of air, he practically flew into his bathroom, locking it with a shaking hand and bracing himself on the sink. He stared at his face in the mirror. He was as red as a beet and shaking like a leaf.

He thought he might be sick.

It wasn't the thought of Cas with a guy per se, it was the thought of Cas with anyone at all that really got his stomach churning and his pulse pounding.

The idea of Cas going out and hooking up with someone like some common whore…well, like Dean, to be honest.

Other people didn't know what Cas was like, they didn't know what Dean did. That he was impossibly strong yet so fragile at the same time. That he would sacrifice himself for his friends. That he would give up fucking immortality for one guy.

Other people didn't know that.

But he did.

Realisation hit Dean like the Atlantic ocean breaking over his head.

He felt jealous.

Jealousy was not a feeling he associated with himself; jealousy was for petty people who wished they had more and did nothing about it. Dean was a do'er. If he wanted something he went out and he fucking earnt it, it was the way he'd been raised.

But no, everything was different now. He was jealous of the man who'd marked up Cas as his own, who'd put his mouth to Cas', who'd even –

The thought was too much for Dean. It made him boil with rage.

Castiel is MINE, he thought possessively, driving his fist with blinding speed into the bathroom mirror. It cracked, splintering into large jagged shards. Rivulets of blood ran from his bruised and bloody knuckles down the sides of the chipped enamel basin.

He heard the footfalls of what sounded like a giant moose approaching his room; Sam had undoubtedly heard the noise and assumed his brother was in danger.

He should really be used to it by now; this was the second mirror this month.

'Dean! You alright?' His little brother bounded up to the door, rattling the handle and then banging on the door upon finding it locked.

No, I'm not alright, he thought bitterly.

He had to go find Cas.

He had to find him right now.

The all consuming urge of getting to his best friend drove him to practically knock out Sam as he barrelled out of the bathroom.

"Dean!" Sam cried, grabbing Dean's forearm in one of his oversized hands. Dean ripped his arm away, using all of his strength and practically dislocating his shoulder in the process (his little brother was strong, he'd give him that).

'Don't follow me, Sammy." He growled as he stalked out of the bunker.

He didn't know when Cas had left, but he had a good idea where he might be.