Author's Note: Oh Supernatural, why do you do this to me? I'm currently busy in Med school and yet it still compels me to write this (sighs). Couldn't get this out of my head since the 3rd episode, "The Third Man" so I of course, had to get this out of my head.

Spoilers for 6.03 and 6.04, and it is slash-ish. Implied past Balthazar/Castiel and implied Dean/Castiel or could be seen as friendship. Rating is for language.

Myrrh to Find My King

By: Sailor Moonac

By the time Dean and Sam got off the aeroplane, having returned from Scotland, Dean was very much incapacitated. Two nine hour flights in the span of 36 hours and 9 airsickness bags later, Dean decided that kind of torture was far worse than than having spent 40 years in Hell. As always, Dean's left deltoid muscle where Castiel's hand print was branded, itched briefly as he thought of Hell. Annoyed and internally grumbling about Castiel ruining his sex life, Dean tossed Sam the car keys to the Impala before slumping wearily into the passenger seat with a graceless flop. Sam shot Dean an amused look before passing Dean a plastic bag. Dean raised his eyebrow in question.

"It's rush hour and we're at JFK. Brace yourself," said Sam with a very familiar mocking smirk that also seemed out of place on Sam's face.

Dean pulled on his sunglasses as he sat back into his seat, wondering why that smirk seemed out of place on Sam's face. It wasn't until nearly two hours later when Dean was heaving by the side of the road just outside of New York City that he realised why that smirk seemed familiar, yet out of place. It was the teasing smirk that Dean usually gave Sam, who would then give Dean his patented 'bitchface.' The worry that was suppressed for the sake of Bobby was slowly worming its way back up the surface.

"Here Dean." Sam passed Dean a napkin and a bottle of water which Dean took gratefully, taking a large swig of water to wash the acidic taste of his gastric fluids from his mouth. "There's a sign for some motels in another couple of miles. Let's hurry up and go so you can lie down."

Dean nodded mutely before making his way back to the Impala's passenger seat. Dean leaned his forehead against the cool window, watching the scenery pass without actually seeing anything. It was weird, reflected Dean. Sam and their grandfather and the rest of the Campbells. They were family...but something just felt off. Sam was Sam...but he wasn't at the same time. Hell changed people, this Dean definitely knew with first hand experience. But Sam was acting more like...well, Dad. Ruthless, efficient, callous. Where was his Sammy, his baby brother?

Dean felt his stomach churning again, but this time it wasn't due to the remnants of his airsickness. The old familiar feeling of emptiness and loneliness was threatening to crawl up to the surface again. Bobby, as he so eloquently yelled—bless his old grumpy, drinking, reliable soul—is relied on by many other hunters and has his own issues to deal with. And Castiel...well Castiel has his own problems with a civil war in Heaven to deal with. Hell, Dean suspects the next time he prays for Castiel to get his feathery arse down to Earth to help, he won't get even an answer. Even if he was about to get killed by...who knows—another Lamia! Castiel implied as much the last time he descended for The Staff of Moses.

The next few hours were a blur for Dean as he dropped heavily onto his lumpy motel bed—God he missed Lisa's bed—and fell asleep promptly. Or so he thought. Dean wasn't sure if he was dreaming or awake, but Dean normally dreams about Lisa and her softness and her smile and his lack of Castiel's hand print—God that was really awkward explaining to Lisa why he had another man's—angel's mark on him—and why the hell was Sam screaming his name?

Dean slowly became conscious and his eyes met blue. "Cas?"

"Sorry," replied a smooth voice with a British accent. "Not quite."

Dean's immediate thought was 'that Fucking Crowley—should have fucking burnt his bones—' before he remembered that one, Crowley didn't have blue eyes (what colour were his demon eyes anyway) and two, Crowley didn't have that fugly arse moustache. "Shit—Balthazar!"

Dean jumped back haphazardly on the bed, eyes quickly surveying the motel room. Sam, alive and not a pillar of salt or a pile of blood or whatever hell those damned weapons can do, and digging in their weapon's bag for the angel killing knife, and the room with clear signs of a fight.

"Uh-uh," said Balthazar with a shake of his finger. Balthazar then pointed that finger at Sam pinning him to the wall and forcing him to drop the angel killing knife. "And you, Dean, are coming with me."

"Sam—!" Dean tried to avoid Balthazar's fingers, knowing it was useless but tried anyway by throwing the lamp at Balthazar. Balthazar disappeared with a blink before he felt arms wrap around his middle and fingers pressed to his forehead. The last thing he saw before he fell unconscious was Sam falling from the wall and shouting Dean's name, his familiar, scared, and worried face adorning his features.

It was hot, and for a full panicky minute as Dean tried to rouse himself, he thought he was back in hell. Blinking his eyes furiously, Dean allows his eyes to adjust to the darkness that was disturbed by the flames surrounding him. With a gasp, Dean got up from the cold floor and spun around, seeing only a tall wall of fire all around him.

"It's cute isn't it? You trap me in a circle of holy fire, and me trapping you in a circle of fire. Oh don't worry, it's not holy—wouldn't waste holy oil on a little human like you." The tall wall of flames suddenly lowered until it was as tall as Dean's waist. Dean turned the circumference of the circle before seeing Balthazar just outside of the circle.

Dean growled lowly. "What the hell do you want Balthazar?"

Balthazar shrugged, swishing a crystal goblet of liquor around in his hand before answering. "Well right now, I just want to talk."

Dean clenched his fist tightly, quickly evaluating the situation. Dean was still feeling tired and airsick, weaponless, trapt in a ring of fire in an unknown location. Not good, but at least Sam knew who took him. Dean thought about praying to Castiel for help since it was about Balthazar and those Heavenly weapons. 'Castiel—'

"Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt your thoughts, or prayer I guess, but..." Balthazar pointed upwards.

Dean looked upward, squinting against the light of the flames, and made out Enochian sigils glowing slightly on the ceiling.

"Cas won't be able to hear your prayers Dean, not that I think he would care enough to come. He is rather busy trying to contain a civil war, stop Raphael and his soldiers, and of course, staying alive since Raphael is rather pissed off right now. Makes me rather sorry for my dear old friend."

Dean swallowed silently, fear rising up within him. "Yeah, well what kind of friend are you? Stealing Heaven's nukes, buying souls, and now kidnapping me?"

Balthazar took a swig of his liquor before answering. "Well, the weapons I stole can't be used by Raphael and his followers against my dear Cas and buying souls will make me more powerful. Which would be quite helpful if I were to say...stop Raphael from killing Cas. And kidnapping you? Well that's hardly an offence. Mnn...at least that's what I would say if this was before the war.

"Dean Winchester," said Balthazar as he started circling the ring of fire as he examined Dean like an animal caged in a zoo. "What makes you so special? The righteous man? Hardly, considering Michael didn't even use you as his vessel. And yet Cas still cares so much for you. To think, Cas would choose you over me. And we have such history together.

Dean felt a muscle twitch in his forehead as he listened to Balthazar. "Look here you dick, Cas sure as hell doesn't care about me as much as you think he does, so if you're thinking about using me to get to Cas, it's sure as hell ain't going to work."

Balthazar threw the hand that wasn't holding his liquor up in exasperation. "Well of course I'm not using you to 'get to Cas' as you so eloquently put it." Balthazar pointed to the ceiling. "Otherwise I wouldn't have prevented you from contacting Cas. Like I said, I simply want to talk and find out why Cas treasures you so much?"

Dean scoffed in a bravado he didn't really feel. "Are you talking about the whole 'I believe the hairless ape has the floor' bit? Seriously, Cas was just pissed off you stole those weapons since he's like the sheriff up in Heaven now."

Balthazar nodded. "True I suppose he's a bit miffed by that, but he'll be grateful soon enough, especially once he realises what leaving the weapons in Heaven, where Raphael can get to them, could result in. But I saw the way you two looked at each other."

"What?" asked Dean with confusion clearly written on his face. "Dude, he fucking let you go! I would have fried your arse extra crispy if Cas didn't let you go. And hell, once I'm getting out of here, I'm having a feathery barbecue!"

In response, Balthazar threw his remaining liquor into the flame, creating a large burst of flame and pushing the flames closer to Dean. "Oh, I'm quite certain I'm the one that's going to have that barbecue first." Balthazar waved his hands towards the flame which lowered in intensity after having been fuelled by the liquor. "You do realise, Dean, Cas changed for you. Oh and I hated it. Hated it. But that was of course, before I realised what freedom that meant for me. But that still doesn't change the fact that I hate it. Why change for you? What makes you so special that he would change himself for you? True he still has that stick stuck up his arse, and I do hope he never takes that stick out...well unless I'm the one replacing that stick—but he's changed from the friend that I've known for so long. He and I have been friends and partners since long before man. So what is it about you that is so special, Dean Winchester?"

Realisation clicked for Dean, who then rubbed his face in amusement before addressing Balthazar. "You uhh...want to replace that stick stuck up Cas's arse with...uhh yourself?" Dean smirked, shaking his head. "Oh I see how it is. You're fucking jealous, aren't I right, Balthazar?" Seeing Balthazar's angry glare confirmed Dean's guess. "Oh I see, you're just jealous, thinking there's something going on between Cas and I. Well sorry buddy, but Cas and I aren't doing the horizontal limbo so kidnapping me is fucking pointless. Whatever the hell is between you and Cas or whatever the hell you think is between Cas and I, well that's something you need to see a shrink about. Not whine to me about, you jackarse! Now, let me go and return those damned weapons to Cas!"

Balthazar glared in anger, allowing the flames to shoot up around Dean again. "Humans, you know nothing. Blind arrogance is your only courage—more like stupidity really." Balthazar flicked his finger at Dean who yelped as his left sleeve tore off, revealing Castiel's burnt in hand print. "Dean Winchester, do you realise when an angel pulls a human soul from Hell, they don't need to leave a part of their soul with the human they resurrected?"

"What?" asked Dean, startled as he tried to pull up his torn shirt.

"Take your half-brother, Adam. Zachariah, thank God the bugger's dead, certainly didn't mark him with his own soul when he resurrected him. Hell, the only person that should be marking you is Michael, and yet here you are. Dean Winchester, marked with Castiel's soul and not a trace of Michael anywhere in you. Why is that do you think?"

"Wait, so you're telling me Cas didn't need to burn his hand print into me?" Dean stared at his hand print in amazement before cursing softly. "Fucking Cas, he just had to give me the creepiest arse scar in existence just to make things awkward in the bedroom. Fucking Cas." But there was no real anger behind that curse.

"You're just a hairless ape, barely pleasing to the eyes of an angel who has seen the true glory of Heaven and the beauty of other angels—of me. And yet, Cas still marks and lays claim upon you."

Dean looked up to meet Balthazar's blazing blue eyes that glowed with anger under the flickering flames. Dean felt himself break out in a cold sweat despite the heat of the flame. The anger Balthazar was directing towards Dean was becoming physical, the air around him becoming thick as though he were in a vacuum. Dean wasn't so sure he was ready to return to Heaven again so he began praying to Castiel, despite knowing he would not be able to hear his prayers.

"Okay Cas, I know you and Dean have a more 'profound bond' but for God's sake, just answer me. Please, Dean is in trouble! Come on Cas, it was Balthazar! You know, that angel you let go instead of letting us kill! Come on Cas, answer me! Get your feathery arse down here! Dean is in trouble and I have no idea where to find him and Balthazar might have already killed him!"

Sam tentatively opened his eyes from where he was sitting. Surveying the destroyed motel room quickly, Sam cursed not seeing Castiel anywhere. Sam stood up and kicked the toppled chair. "God damn it! Cas! Dean's in trouble, not me! So you don't have to answer me, just answer Dean's prayer! Find Dean!"

Sam cursed again before making up his mind and quickly grabbed the keys to the Impala to head off the hospital. Thirty minutes later, Sam returned to the motel room and kicked the door shut with a loud slam. Sam quickly set the material he gathered on the floor before grabbing the toppled table and setting it straight. He then set a large plastic bowl, a piece of chalk, a jar of holy water, a bag of AB- blood and some myrrh on the table. "Cas! I have myrrh this time!"

"Why do you have myrrh?"

Sam jumped and spun around to face Castiel. "Cas, damn it hurry! Balthazar took Dean, you have to find him!" Cas startled before nodding quickly, rushing to the table Sam had set up and starting the ritual.

"Cas seriously, why the hell didn't you answer me half an hour ago?"

"You called for me half an hour ago?"

"Yes!" hissed Sam in vexed exasperation.

"I didn't hear you."

"Yeah, I know, you have a more 'profound bond' so you only listen to Dean—"

"No." Castiel paused and set down the chalk he was using. Castiel brushed past Sam to the door that Sam kicked shut. Leaning down slightly, Castiel pressed his hand to the door where Sam's dirty footprint was slightly visible and a smudged sigil appeared, glowing slightly.

"Is that Enochian?" asked Sam leaning over Castiel to look at the smudged sigil.

"Yes, it's to block the transmission of a prayer. That's why I didn't hear your prayer. You both still have the sigils I carved into your ribs so I can't find you so easily."

Sam looked down at his boot. "I must have destroyed it when I kicked the door shut—Cas?"

Castiel had quickly brushed past Sam again to resume the ritual. Castiel picked up the bag of AB- blood and gave Sam a look, but didn't say anything as he tore the bag and emptied the bag into the bowl. Pouring in the holy water, Castiel began the ritual to search for Bathazar. Thirty seconds later, Castiel stood up straight again and looked over at Sam. "Found him."

"Good, I'm coming with you—"

"No, you're not. It will be easier if I go alone."

"No way Cas, Dean's my brother—"

"No, Sam." Sam paused as Castiel looked back at the empty AB- blood transfusion bag from the hospital and gave Sam a look again. "I'll go alone." With that, Castiel disappeared with the sound of fluttering wings.

Sam looked at the empty spot Castiel was at just a moment before. Cursing sharply, Sam walked over to the table where Castiel held his ritual and picked up the empty blood transfusion bag. Sam tossed the transfusion bag away without a word.

Dean was pretty sure he was going to be burnt to death and wake up in Hell again—forget the fact that Joshua said that God forgave him and will grant him passage into Heaven—especially since Balthazar was pissed off and the walls of flame around him were a couple of stories high. Well, reflected Dean, at least he wasn't going to die with locusts crawling out of his skull, or with boils breaking out all over his body.

"Dean!" Something hard slammed into Dean's back and Dean felt a pair of arms wrap around him, pulling down into a crouch.

"Cover your ears," hissed a very familiar voice into Dean's ear. Dean let out a relieved breath before inhaling and feeling the smoke creep into his lungs. So Dean clenched his eyes shut and pushed both palms tight over his ears as he pressed his body against Castiel's solid and unmoving one. Castiel kept one hand between Dean's shoulder blade to keep him crouched as he raised his other hand over his head. Through the darkness of his eyelids, Dean could see the flickering of the light of the flames and feel the whirling of wind all around them as if they were in the eye of a tornado. Within a minute, Dean felt the wind die down, taking the hot flame with it.

Dean felt Castiel stand up, removing his hand from Dean's back and instead tugged lightly on one of Dean's wrist to let him know it was all clear now. Dean opened his eyes tentatively, allowing his eyes to adjust to the surrounding and removed his hands from his ears. They were in some old building and there was a circular opening that was freshly ripped through the roof, shining light upon the three inhabitants in the building.

"Balthazar. You've gone too far this time."

"Cas. Well I daresay I wasn't expecting you."

Castiel moved to stand in front of Dean. Dean stood up painfully, feeling as if he was sun bathing for hours and stiff all over. And Dean's stomach still churned with airsickness. Dean really hated angels, well except the one standing in front of him protecting him from getting killed by the crazy ex-boyfriend. Or something like that.

"Dean." Castiel's voice broke through his thoughts. "Are you all right?"

Dean winced as he grabbed a hold of the back of Castiel's trench coat to steady himself. "Sorta. I feel like I've been roasting in Hell for a while."

Castiel half turned towards Dean and Dean looked up in time to see two of Castiel's fingers press against Dean's forehead, taking away the pain and burns with the removal of his fingers. Castiel was still directing an angry glare towards Balthazar.

Balthazar himself was still visibly angry, but not as much as before. After several long silent moments where Castiel and Balthazar had a silent stand off, Balthazar sighed and slumped his shoulders. "You really do like that hairless ape don't you? And we were such good friends Cas."

"We would still be Balthazar, had you not faked your death and stolen those weapons. Return them."

"Sorry, the answer is still no."

Castiel opened his mouth to respond—

"I'm doing this to protect you Cas. With those weapons in Heaven, Raphael—"

"No, you're not Balthazar. You intend to sell those weapons for souls, creating greater chaos on Earth."

"With more souls, I'll be even more powerful. Powerful enough to stop Raphael. You can't deny that's true, Cas."

Castiel remained silent.

"Cas, you must know I'm on your side. And that I still do support you. But, you can't stop this. You're just one angel."

Dean felt himself speak up despite his better instincts telling him remain silent. "Yeah, Cas may be just one angel, but considering God's brought Cas back to life twice now, I think—"

"You be quiet you—"

"Enough!" cut off Castiel. "Balthazar, this is the last time I'm going to ask you. Return those weapons to me."

Balthazar clenched his mouth shut before shaking his head. "No. I'm sorry Cas. I really am."

Castiel stood straighter, menacingly, like a bird ruffling its feathers to appear bigger, so Dean thought. Castiel probably wouldn't appreciate the comparison though. "Then I'm sorry Balthazar, but the next time we meet, I'll have to stop you."

"Next time? Why not this time Cas?" Balthazar shot Dean a glare. "Ah of course, you have to take care of your little pet monkey first—"

"You dick—"

"Dean—" intoned Castiel in a bellowing growl. "Is not my pet monkey, Balthazar. He is my friend."

"Hmn," scoffed Balthazar. "And me?"

Castiel didn't respond.

Balthazar shook his head knowingly. "No I guess I'm not your friend anymore. But Dean isn't just your friend either is he Castiel?" Balthazar met Castiel's eyes forlornly. "What happened between us? To think, you would choose a human you've know for not even three Earth years over me."

"We changed."

"Yes, we have. Because of the man standing beside you. To think a human could mean so much to you. It's a shame." With the sound of fluttering wings, Balthazar was gone.

Dean released the breath he didn't even realise he was holding. "Are you going to go after him?"

Castiel turned to face Dean. "No, not for the time being. Are you all right?" repeated Castiel.

Dean shrugged, briefly noting his churning stomach had finally settled. "Yeah, I'm good." Silence fell. "Uhh, Bobby's good too. Got Crowley to finally give his soul back, but we had to give up Crowley's bones for that to happen. Hey, did you know Crowley's the King—"

"—of Hell, yes, I know. But Crowley, like myself, has not been able to stabilise Hell, so it is not of pressing concern currently."

"Huh? Well that's good, I guess. We had to wrangle Crowley's name—"

"You know Crowley's real name? What is it?"

"Hmn?"

Castiel gave his usual exasperated sigh as if Dean was being difficult on purpose. "Yes, Crowley's real name, what is it?"

"Uhh, he's Scottish. Fergus McLeod, why? I mean Crowley has his bones again so we can't torch them."

"Doesn't matter." Castiel broke eye contact with Dean and looked upward. "By knowing his real name, I can have power over him. The power of the name or kotodama as it is known in Japanese. It will be useful in case Crowley decides to...act up again."

Dean let out a low chuckle. "Yeah, well I guess that's something Crowley's bound to do again." Dean shifted uncomfortably for a few moments and waited until Castiel returned his gaze to him before speaking again. "Say...Balthazar kinda implied something was going on between you two...so was there?"

"Balthazar was my friend." And that was all Castiel said in the matter.

"Uhh yeah..." Dean shifted uncomfortably again, wondering why Castiel still hadn't zapped him back to Sam and flown off to who knows where, without a word like he did last time. "So, uhh...Balthazar mentioned something about...well this," said Dean, pointing to his exposed hand print.

Castiel's eyes instantly shot to his shoulder before looking away quickly.

"Uhh, he said you left a part of your soul in me...?"

"Yes. I did. At the time, it was convenient; a necessity."

"Oh." Dean shifted awkwardly, wondering if it was a good idea or not to ask Castiel to remove the scar. Dean was pretty sure Castiel had the power to do so now, but then again...the scar has kind of grown on Dean. Just don't tell Castiel that, so instead Dean said quite abruptly, "You're a dick you know."

Castiel's mouth twitched near imperceptibly into a smile. "Yes. I know."

"Yeah, yeah, and you know what," started Dean, feeling a grin form on his face. "This," pointed Dean to his scar. "Is really cramping my style. Do you know awkward it was, explaining to Lisa why I have another man's hand print on me especially since it's the first time she's seen me without my shirt on in years? She first thought I was suddenly really into those weird tattoos people get—you know the ones where you basically scar yourself to develop callouses in different shapes. Of course once she did get around to asking me—damn it was weird. Now she thinks I've got some weird fetish for angels or something like that—"

"I'm sorry," interrupted Castiel abruptly.

Dean fixed Castiel a glare before shaking his head. "No you're not."

"No, I'm not. Like I said, it was a necessity at that time."

"Not according to your ex-bestfriend."

Castiel's frown deepened before he held both hands up in defeat. A gesture Dean recognised from years before in Bobby's darkened kitchen when his greatest worry about Sammy was keeping him alive and away from Lilith. Now Dean wasn't even so sure what to think about Sam anymore—wasn't sure who he was supposed to protect Sam from or if he even needs protection anymore. Dean pulled himself back to the present as a visibly flustered Castiel attempted to explain himself.

"It was—how would you say it—a "spur of the moment" idea. Hell was pulling you back as I attempted to pull you out, so I bound your soul to me, and marked your soul with my own to lay claim on you. Only then was I capable of pulling you out of Hell." answered Castiel, air quotes and all. Dean is still not sure where Castiel learned air quotes from since he sure as hell didn't teach him. It must have been Sam, because air quotes are definitely a Sam thing—

Realisation struck Dean. "Shit—does that mean Balthazar wasn't kidding—wait, does that mean I really am your fucking pet?"

"Of course not—"

"No! But you laid claims on me—!"

"Yes, I said it was a necessity at that time—"

"And we've already established that no, it fucking was not—!"

"Not in the sense that I must claim your soul as my own, but rather more to make the process of pulling your soul out of Hell easier. Dean," began Castiel as he stepped straight into Dean's personal bubble, again. "I am not the most powerful angel and it was necessary for me—no don't!" berated Castiel as Dean opened his mouth to argue. "A part of my soul, an angel's soul is within you Dean. So if you want to talk about fairness, I should be the one protesting the fact that a mere human has a part of my soul within him. So don't, Dean."

Dean swallowed, glaring down at Castiel for as long as he could. But of course, the angel would always win any staring contest between those two. Dean shrugged, breaking the tension. "Bitchy today aren't you Cas. You on angel PMS or something?"

"Angels do not suffer from premenstrual syndrome nor am I even in a female vessel like Claire."

"No," answered Dean quickly and minutely horrified. A sweet little kid like Claire definitely does not equate with PMS. Especially not at her age the last time he saw her. "No, definitely not...so does that mean you're my pet—oi, oi, oi Cas! I'm just kidding, sheesh." Dean ducked his head in fear as lightening struck across the sky, reflecting Castiel's anger. After a moment, Castiel seemed to pull himself in as though he were retracting his wings. The analogy of a bird once again made its way to the forefront of Dean's mind.

"Dean."

"Yeah, yeah, sorry...truce?" Dean held out his hand in a handshake before mentally wincing. Angels don't do handshakes, as Dean remembered Sam and Castiel's first meeting years ago—and was it really that long? Despite knowing Castiel for less than three years, it had seemed far longer—

Castiel had surprisingly taken Dean's hand in his own in a similar fashion to how he had shook Sam's hand years before. Castiel looked down at their hands and turned over Dean's hand so that his palm faced upward. "I can pull my soul back out. It will be painful, but it is possible. Your scar should disappear in time if you are concerned that it will uhh...interfere with your sex—"

"No, no, no! Don't need to hear the rest of that sentence. And you know what," started Dean before looking to his exposed left shoulder. "It's kinda grown on me. So I think I'll keep it—that is if you don't mind that a mere human has a part of an angel's soul."

Castiel shook his head and instead turned Dean's hand over to analyse the new scars he had gained since his resurrection from Hell. The cut Castiel had made in Dean's palm weeks before was still visible, though scarred over. Castiel ran a finger across the scar, making it vanish as though it were never there.

"So uhh..."

"It's fine. You can keep it. That missing portion of my soul does not affect me in the least." Finally, Castiel let go of Dean's hand, who then brought it up to his face to look at his palm.

"Huh, Dr. Angel. Yeah well...damn this feels awkward. Like little kids exchanging presents with their crush on Valentine's Day—I did not just compare us to little kids and their crushes."

A small smile made its way to Castiel's face. "No, maybe we just argue like little kids."

"More like a married couple, as Sam likes to point out."

"Just because we have exchanged portions of our souls does not equate marriage in the terms—"

Dean smacked his hands to his face. "Cas?" Castiel stopped. "This conversation just never happened okay?"

Castiel furrowed his brows and gave Dean a look that indicated he thought Dean was being ridiculous before nodding sharply once. He then reached out and made a move to press his fingers to Dean's forehead.

"Woah, woah, woah—hold on a second!" Dean moved head away from Castiel's prostrate fingers. "Because the moment you zap me back, I'm not going to see you for like...ever. So I need to get things cleared first considering with the whole 'your family's got rock for brains', we're going to have clear some things up."

Castiel lowered his hand again. "What do you need?"

"Well for one thing, if I or Sam prayed to you, will you come?"

Again, Castiel gave Dean an exasperated, annoyed look. "I'm here now."

"Yeah, how did you—?"

"I heard Sam's prayers."

Dean rolled his eyes in exasperation before reaching out and clutching the shorter man's shoulder. "Okay Cas, I know your "people skills" are "rusty", but dude you've got to let me finish my sentences!"

"I can generally hear what you intend to say before you say it."

Dean allowed himself to slump against Castiel's shoulder in defeat, wondering how the hell he managed to deal with Castiel for so long and still be sane. Having not seen the angel for over a year, Dean couldn't remember if Castiel was generally this bitchy or was it a new thing. It made Dean miss the old Sam—the Sam that had not been to Hell yet. This possibly new Castiel would have gotten along great with the old Sam.

"Dean," mumbled Castiel lowly into Dean's ear. Dean jumped, startled, before pulling back, almost forgetting the fact that yes, Castiel was an Angel of the Lord—excuse me, Angel of the Missing Lord, and probably didn't liked to be treated like a headrest to slump in defeat against. "What did you want to clarify before I sent you back and return to Heaven?"

Dean pulled back and took a step backwards to get out of Castiel's non-existent-personal bubble. "Right uhh, if we need help with something or if we find another crazy string of murders that screams the Old Testament, will you come if we prayed to you?"

Castiel's mouth twitched slightly into a frown before he answered. "Yes, I will. I need to get those weapons back and stop Balthazar and Raphael."

"Okay," continued Dean, nodding. "How about if Sam and I prayed to you to come down and...have a drink with us?"

Castiel broke eye contact with Dean and looked away, eyes searching the surrounding but not really seeing. Dean recognised that action. Castiel generally acted as such when he didn't know how he should answer Dean, knowing Dean did not want to hear more bad news. "Cas?"

"I...am busy," started Castiel hesitantly. "And I do not think Sam will be inclined to "have a drink" with me; he seemed rather miffed by me not answering his prayers a year ago."

"Yeah, well let me tell you, he's not the only person who's 'miffed'. But Cas, what aren't you telling me about Sam?"

Castiel's eyes darted to Dean's briefly before looking away again. "There is nothing to tell. It's just that...there is something not entirely...Sam about your brother. I don't actually know anything, but...I've been a soldier long enough to know when something is not right."

Dean bent down and sought Castiel's eyes. "You'll tell me right Cas? You'll tell me if you know something? Cas?"

"Of course. And I will tell you if I do find out something—however unlikely that seems. Though I have not been actively searching for the last year, I haven't even heard a whisper of why your brother and grandfather was brought back to life. I just don't know Dean."

Dean nodded, the familiarity of Castiel's thoughts worrying at him. "So...how about if I prayed to you to just come and...hang out—just for a little bit. Just one drink. I quite frankly need someone to depend on and Bobby has been harping on my arse about nagging him too much about Sam."

Castiel held Dean's gaze steadily for a few seconds before finally nodding. "Of course. I may have been away for a year, but I am still your friend, Dean."

Dean nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, of course you are. Balthazar doesn't seem to think so though."

"Balthazar," smiled Castiel minutely. "Has gone crazy."

"Coming from the little nerd angel."

Castiel reached for Dean's forehead again with his fingers. "Yes, and this "little nerd angel" might accidentally deposit you on an aeroplane—"

"Oh! Hell no Cas! Just no! And how the hell did you find me anyway? There was those sigils—"

"Myrrh."

"Oh right, myrrh. What are you a sniffer hound now?"

Castiel paused just before tapping Dean's forehead. "Myrrh is considered to be very valuable. That's why the Three Kings gave it as a present."

Dean shot Castiel a confused look. "Three Kings? Oh, you mean baby Jesus?"

"Yes, but myrrh's value cannot compare to you."

"Cas—" Castiel pressed his fingers to Dean's forehead, who blinked. The next sight that greeted him was Sam rushing to his side in the destroyed motel room.

"Dean! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Dean brushed past Sam after clasping his hand on his brother reassuringly. "Damn angel."

Sam narrowed his gaze in a...not entirely foreign visage of anger. "What did Balthazar do to you?"

"Son of a bitch tried to burn me alive. Cas showed up in time to save my arse though. Still, Damn angel."

"Balthazar?"

"No," replied Dean, flopping down on his ruined bed. "Cas. He still won't let me finish my sentences before interrupting!"

Done, all fifteen pages of it. Damn you Supernatural! How you take me away from my studying! Anyway, some notes on this one shot.

The title is based off of the story of the Three Kings/Magi where one of the presents they present is myrrh to Jesus. Balthazar was the name of one of the Three Kings, so I'm assuming that's where Supernatural got the whole myrrh thing from. However for my title, the "King" is technically referring to Balthazar, though the title is in terms of Castiel's perspective so "My King" is actually Dean.

Air quote Cas! I'm sorry, but 1) where the hell did Cas learn air quotes? And 2) Cas and air quotes are adorable. That and the fact that Cas is back and so bitchy and hurried. I find this Cas adorable. Damnit! We need more Cas! As far as I can tell, Cas isn't in episode 5 or 6. In fact, the only episode I know 100% certain that Cas will be in next is episode 11 and that's only because Misha mentioned he got the script for that episode. Seriously, we need more Cas! Oh, and more 'profound bonds' please.

Balthazar...I don't know if I like him or not. He's too Gabriel like for me and quite frankly, we only need one Gabriel. Whom, by the way, they should bring back...possibly...somehow. Who knows.

Sam! I have no idea what to think about Sam aside from the fact that he's different and has Dean's worried. I don't know if I like the new Sam or hate it, just because this entire season has been so vague so far. Hell, I'm not sure what this season is really about yet. I mean, I think Cas hinted at it with Heaven's weapons being stolen, but I'm still not sure what the hell the main plot line of this season is. I mean seriously, Season 1: find their mother's killer and their Dad. Season 2: Kill Azazel/Yellow-Eyes. Season 3: Get Dean out of his deal. Season 4: Stop the coming of the Apocalypse. Season 5: Stop the actual Apocalypse. Season 6:...?

Enough of that, more notes. Kotodama, is the Japanese word for the power of words. And it's essentially as Castiel explained in the story. If someone knows the true name of an individual, he or she can subjugate that individual to his or her will. In episode 4 when Bobby was asking for the Crowley's name, Kotodama was the first thing that came to my mind. Needless to say, I was kind of disappointed when they used Crowley's real name just to find his grave.

Also in episode 3, in Dean's dream sequence, he didn't have Castiel's hand print. Now this, I figured, was because of one of two reasons. They either one, just assumed that since it's a dream, they could get away with not putting in Castiel's hand print, or two, technically it was supposed to be there, but they were lazy, and decided not to put it in and instead shot the scene in angles where the left shoulder is mostly hidden. Either way, I'm choosing reason number one, since that probably would be pretty awkward to have a hand print on you.

Okay, no more spontaneous fifteen page one shots. Done. Enough...damn, this is probably going to happen again.

-Sailor Moonac