4. Evocation

There is a tense silence between them for a moment before Cas says, "There are ways," which sounds kind of creepy and ominous and Dean almost doesn't want to ask.

Dean tries to get more comfortable because his leg is falling asleep sitting on the cold floor and he feels like he's going to be here a while. The movement pulls at something, reminding Dean that his ankle is fucked. He hisses involuntarily and the next second he feels a warm hand over the fabric at his knee, the other on his leg.

"You're bleeding still, too," Cas tells him sternly. "I should have noticed." He sounds annoyed with himself.

"You had your own problems," Dean shrugs.

He hates that Cas's touch is kind of comforting, but there's no way Dean is going to forget he doesn't deserve it. He wants to tell Cas to let go, to move away, but Cas squeezes Dean's knee like he knows what he's thinking.

"Stubborn," Dean thinks he hears Cas say under his breath and then Cas is taking off Dean's boot and pretty much all Dean can think is, Jesus, fucking ow.

"The bite is deep."

Dean can hear Cas's voice, low and quiet, coming from somewhere to his right. Then Dean feels fingers prodding at the wounds.

"Cas," he grates out. "You want to stop that?"

Cas ignores Dean, lifting up his like he's inspecting and not stopping the poking at all. Bastard.

"I don't have anything to wrap it with," Cas says, sounding frustrated. "You aren't wearing a tie," as though that's the only suitable thing to make a bandage with in the world.

Dean shakes his head dismissively, feeling himself grin because Cas really seems to have a weird thing for ties. "It's fine. Don't worry about it."

There's a pause before Dean feels Cas's hand back on his knee. "I can't help it," Cas says, sounding surprised by the realisation.

They sit in silence for a while as Dean tries to work out what to make of that. Cas feeling. Cas being worried. Or maybe just annoyed that he can't heal anymore. That he's weakened and cut off. Or maybe Cas is just pissed off he hasn't got any more ties.

Dean feels Cas pulling off his sock and he's more gentle and careful than Dean expected him to be. Except, Dean knows, Cas is soft, with his lips and his tongue and with his fingers against Dean's neck. Even now Cas's hands on his leg make Dean shiver. Dean hates himself for the reaction.

"These creatures," Cas says, "What happened-" Cas pauses and Dean's pretty sure he's thinking about how to put it, whatever he wants to say, and Dean definitely does not want to hear this. Dean knows he deserves accusation and anger, but none of it will help. It won't change what's happened, and it won't get them out of here.

"Cas," Dean says in warning, but Cas just speaks over him, pressing determinately against Dean's foot with what Dean guesses is his own sock. He supposes this must be Cas's attempt to stem the bleeding. Either that or he's enjoying causing Dean pain, and Dean knows that Cas isn't like him. Would never be like that.

"What happened between us. It's not what you imagine, I think."

Dean's pretty sure it is what he imagines. What he felt. What he feels.

Cas goes on, "The demons are ancient and well-known to us. To angels. Their teeth are sharp."

"Yeah, I noticed," Dean snorts. "Went right through my boot."

"Their claws are poisoned," Cas continues, ignoring Dean. "The air they exhale is poisoned. Their minds cause madness."

Dean thinks of the sting and heat along his back, and worse, of Cas's eye. The way the day has gone so far, of course it's poison. Dean can only think that their injuries -poison delivered direct to their blood- made the effects worse. That it made the lust and want burn so strong Dean would have just taken Cas and not fucking cared at all if he wanted it or not. Dean wonders, then, if there's still poison in him and this... affection, is not him at all. He wonders if it's just one more way the demons are fucking with them, because Cas is still being gentle and he speaks with such warmth and kindness it makes Dean feel like a complete asshole.

It doesn't feel the same though, this concern for Cas, this being glad he's alive and there with Dean, trusting Cas and not minding him being annoying. All this, Dean thinks, has been there a while. He just never noticed it before.

"Is that why..." Dean tries to ask but Cas cuts him off again.

"No. The poison doesn't have that effect."

"Reading my mind?" Dean asks, pretty sure he's annoyed because if Cas knows what he's thinking then he also knows that Dean can't stop thinking about that.

"It was obvious what you were going to ask." It sounds like an honest answer and Dean is relieved, but he does notice that Cas didn't actually answer the question.

Cas's hands leave him and thank God for that, because Cas really doesn't have a clue. Dean's not really even sure why he's letting Cas do whatever he's doing to his foot. Or why he's still letting Cas touch him, except that maybe Dean likes the contact.

There's the sound of shuffing material, then ripping.

"You don't have to rip up your clothes, Cas," Dean says, alarmed. It's cold in the tomb, and Cas has lost a shit load of blood. Angel or not Dean can tell he's not doing so hot.

"It's just a shirt," Cas says. "And I can repair it later." More ripping, then, "And you must be able to walk."

Dean raises his eyebrows. "If you've got a way out of here I'm all ears."

Cas doesn't reply, just takes hold of Dean's now very cold foot and starts wrapping cool cotton around it tightly. Dean lets him, knowing how much it helps to be doing something, even when there's nothing to be done. Cas's touch is light and warm.

Then, into the quiet between them Cas says, "These demons are called Amanojaku. They draw out, and exacerbate, subconscious desires. There is some basis to what... is felt. It makes their effect all the more pronounced. More real."

More real.

It takes Dean a moment to understand what Cas is trying to say, and when he thinks that maybe he does he can't believe it.

"I had not realised," Cas says, and Dean expects more. Needs more.

To believe what Cas is saying, Dean needs to hear that Cas understands wanting someone, and being wanted. He needs Cas to tell him he hadn't realised it could be good. But Cas doesn't say anything, just ties off his bandaging and doesn't move, inhumanly still. Dean can hear him breathing and is glad for that at least. Outside the demons scratch and whine and pound against the tomb walls. The sound seems weirdly muffled, or else Dean is still half-deaf from Cas's true voice.

Then Cas asks, "Should you put your shoe on? I think it's cold. I'm not sure." And Dean is really not sure how to take that. If Cas were anyone else he would think they were messing with him, but Cas is Cas and doesn't seem to know how to mess with people purposefully like that.

Dean tells him, "Yeah, I'll put it back on," because that's safe and something he can deal with. Dean reaches out for the shoe, but Cas pushes his hand away.

"Let me," Cas says, and carefully slides Dean's foot into his boot like he's some princess or something. "I can see that you think there is some guilt on your part for what we have done," Cas says and Dean is starting to think he's going to get vertigo from the way Cas keeps changing the subject. "But there is not. I-" he pauses, Dean hears him sigh. "I feel this too."

"This?" Dean asks, disbelieving. "Do you even know what this is? What that was?"

Cas is tying up his laces, and it's so surreal that Dean shakes his head. "You're an angel, Cas." As though Cas might not have noticed. But he doesn't seem to be getting it; that what they felt was lust and sex and Cas is an angel.

"I know what I am, Dean," Cas says softly, and then Dean feels Cas's hand on his knee again, Cas's fingers rubbing softly at the material there. "I know that it was not bad."

"That's not the point," Dean argues.

Cas makes a frustrated sound before suddenly Dean can feel his face close, his hands balancing on Dean's knee and his shoulder, and then, just for a second, there are lips pressed softly against Dean's and Dean is too stunned to do anything but sit there and take it.

When Cas pulls away and speaks he's so close Dean can feel warm breath against his mouth and can feel Cas's hands still resting heavily against him. Dean can feel the weight of Cas's coat against his knees and brushing against his hand. "There is something I can try," Cas says, his voice almost a whisper. "A spell of sorts that can destroy every demon in this place."

And Cas tells him this now, Dean thinks incredulously.

Cas goes on, "But it will require leaving these wards I have built, and it is not an easy spell."

Dean narrows his eyes at that. "Not easy how?"

"It will likely kill me," Cas replies, and he sounds so unconcerned at the idea of his own death that Dean wants to smack him.

"No, Cas," Dean tells him firmly. Because he's not getting left alone. Because Cas just fucking kissed him. "What's the point if you're just going to die?"

Cas shifts, leaning more heavily against Dean like he's growing tired. Dean thinks of the blood on his wrists and his eye, and the quiet way he's talking, and how he can feel Cas's hands clenching and unclenching beside him. He must be exhausted, Dean reasons, and reaches out one hand to grip at Cas's arm and the other to hold his waist. Cas relaxes into his hands.

"We-" Cas pauses and amends, "You would have to hold off the hordes as I performed the necessary ritual. But Dean, it's a chance."

Dean snorts. "Not a very good one."

"But a chance," Cas reiterates. "Which is more than we have sitting here."

Dean knows that's true and sits for what feels like a long time racking his brain for any other ideas. Anything at all. With every passing minute he can hear the demons outside more clearly and the pain in his back is going from stinging to creeping, burning heat. Now that Dean isn't thinking about immediate survival, he can feel his stomach is empty and hollow and his throat is so dry he has to cough and swallow. And he can't think of a single damn thing. He can't see and they're both hurt and Dean's getting really fucking cold. They need to do something, and soon, and if there's a chance maybe it's worth a shot. They've had so much shit luck something has to work out for them. Just once. Something that does not involve Cas dying on him. And if they both go out together, well, that isn't so bad, Dean supposes. Holding off a horde of demons doesn't exactly come with the best odds of survival either.

Dean worries though; about Sam and the Apocalypse and he can't quite believe after everything he's about to get done in by sex demons. It might even be weirdly fitting.

"We go out fighting then?"

Dean thinks Cas shakes his head, from the way Cas's body moves. "I would rather we not 'go out' at all. But yes."

"No better ideas?"

"Unless you can think of anything, no."

Dean nods. A chance is a chance, he guesses. And Cas is still leaning against him, like he's comfortable and doesn't want to move even though there's no way he can be, the way Cas is crouched. If Cas is telling the truth, if Cas really means it, if they might die here, Dean thinks that maybe he can have this. That he can have Cas. Can have more.

"And this?" Dean asks, rubbing his thumb lightly against the material of Cas's shirt at his waist, shifting his hand against Cas's arm, because he has to be sure.

Cas sits up a little, his fingers touch Dean's face lightly. He says, "I don't want you to think you have done anything which I would not welcome."

It's not quite what Dean meant, but it's answer enough because Dean has done some really dirty things to the angel recently and if Cas doesn't mind that, then maybe he really can do this liking someone thing. Even if it's just this once. It's not like Dean's ever going get to skip off into the sunset with someone at the end of it all, so he'll take what he can, while he can and Cas isn't saying no. He's a guy, sure, and that's mostly new. But he's also an angel and that's even more new. And Cas is warm, and knows Dean, and likes him anyway, and then Cas is rubbing fingers gently across Dean's cheek. He's not human. He's weird, and he can be a total bastard, but Dean knows that he's not perfect either. Not even close. And Cas is there with him, his hands trailing down Dean's neck and coming to rest at his shoulders. Dean feels warm air brush across his face and knows that Cas is leaning in. Dean waits, almost holding his breath, until he can feel Cas's lips against his again.

It's like that makes the decision for him; that light, dry touch of a sort-of kiss while Cas's fingers dig into his shoulder blades, because then Dean just gives in, lets himself wrap his arms around Cas's back and pull him closer and licks at Cas's lips, wanting in. This is not like before, Dean knows. It's lust, yes, and need, God, yes, but it's something sappy too that Dean's not going to think about. It's the way Cas isn't letting go, how he never has really. How they might die anyway, and Dean doesn't have to think about consequences.

They don't matter, Dean decides. As long as Cas is there, he can live with consequences. Anything else he's just not going to even consider.

And Dean can certainly live with the way Cas is getting into it too. He takes Dean's tongue and meets it with his own and presses Dean back against the wall with what feels like almost all his weight and it hurts Dean's back but Cas's hands are fiddling with his shirt, stroking down his sides lightly, then playing at the hem like he's really not sure what to do with it. Or maybe Cas just isn't paying attention because he's kissing Dean with a whole lot of enthusiasm, going at it like he just can't get enough.

Dean wonders if Cas's eyes are open, watching Dean in that creepy angel way of his even now. It disturbs Dean that he doesn't think he even minds so long as Cas keeps this up. And when Cas shifts his knees so that they're pressing against Dean's groin Dean really doesn't give a crap whether Cas is staring or not.

He hears himself breathe a groan into Cas's mouth, pushes his hips forward to find friction, and Cas pulls his mouth away for a moment.

Dean thinks Cas is probably going to say something stupid so Dean leans forward, kissing at the side of Cas's mouth. He runs his hands up the back of Cas's neck into his hair to tilt his head back so Dean can kiss and suck behind his ear and down his throat. Cas's pulse is fast against Dean's mouth and he bites at it and can't help smirking against smooth skin when Cas's breath hitches and he makes a weird gurgling sound that should not be as hot as Dean's dick seems to think it is.

Dean wants to tell Cas he's a kinky bastard, except then Cas's hands have found their way under Dean's shirt and it's skin on skin and Cas's fingers rub at his waist, teasing at the line of his pants.

Remembering the feel and the heat of those hands on him, Dean drops his fingers down to Cas's hips, going for the belt and the buttons, hoping it's enough of a hint for Cas. You can never be too obvious with an angel, Dean's learned.

He's kind of curious if Cas knows at all what he's doing, or has done this before. Well, before their run in with crazy sex demons anyway. Cas is kind of hesitant in a way that makes Dean think he's mostly following Dean's lead, which is fine by Dean. It's not like Dean's really done this too many times with a guy either.

It's like riding a bike, Dean thinks, and finds himself smiling into the curve of Cas's shoulder.

Most of all, Dean doesn't want this to be like before, with his head heavy and full of fuck now fuck now, so when he's got his hands firmly inside the material of Cas's pants Dean spreads his fingers wide, loving the feel of smooth, cool skin. He strokes his hands slowly around Cas's hips before pulling him closer, knowing that's got to be giving Cas more friction because Cas jerks into the touch suddenly like he can't help it. Dean feels Cas bending his head, then his lips are warm against Dean's ear, tongue playing across the skin, and seriously, where does an angel learn shit like that?

There are demons outside, probably not much more than a few inches away and if there is anything in the entire universe that should be a turn-off it's that, but Dean is not going to stop because if he is going out today he is going to have a damn good time before he does. It's not like Cas seems to care. Cas, who is thankfully taking the hint and trying to get his hands down the back of Dean's jeans. Dean can only imagine that Cas has to bend himself at a really uncomfortable angle to get his lips on Dean's then, but he seems dead-set on it and Dean is not going to complain. Cas has got his tongue down his throat and fingers playing along his spine and he's making some really awesome sex-noises that are way hotter than anything Dean thinks he's ever heard before.

Dean breathes, "Fuck," into Cas's mouth, and "Fuck," when Cas finally remembers there are buttons on jeans that need undoing if you want to get into them. Just the feel of Cas's fingers fumbling against the thick material is enough to get Dean really hard really fast. As hands brush him Dean can't stop himself from making some really embarrassing noises that sound a lot like grunting. Dean pushes forward as one of Cas's hands finds its way past underwear and to his cock, running fingers along the length then palming it kind of tentatively. Cas pulls lightly and Dean is going to have to tell Cas that he's going to have to put a lot more effort into it than that if he wants Dean to come sometime this century. Or not, because this is Cas and he's got his hands on Dean's dick and just the thought of that is enough to make him groan and jerk his hips forward like a horny teenager.

Then Cas whispers against Dean's cheek, "Like before?" and Dean shakes his head, angry, because this is going to be different dammit. He tells him, "No," as firmly as he can.

It takes just about all his willpower to do, but Dean takes hold of Cas's forearms and pulls them up, drawing his hands out of Dean's jeans.

Cas leans back a bit, like he might have done something wrong so Dean ignores the aching of his cock and the pain spiking in his ankle at the sharp movement and surges forward, pushing Cas, still holding onto his arms, until Cas topples back. Dean pushes him down then, trusting that the angel isn't that breakable.

Cas lets out a sound of surprise as his back hits the stone, but it doesn't sound like it hurt. Dean leans over him, finds Cas's chin with one hand and then with his mouth, kissing his way across stubble and skin.

The stone is freezing against Dean's knees and his back aches from the position he's bent himself into, pulling at wounds Dean's managed to half-forget about, but Cas is warm and soft and pliable underneath him, spreading one hand across Dean's chest, sliding it down his side. Dean's still gripping at one of Cas's arms, not wanting to let him go. When Dean presses his body closer to Cas's, Dean can feel Cas letting him. The hand Dean has resting against Cas's cheek slides around the angel's neck, holding him tightly, bringing Cas in for another kiss. Cas lets Dean shove a knee between his legs, lets Dean press down on him with most of his body weight and then grind against him.

There are buttons and zippers and pants in the way but the friction is fucking awesome and the angle isn't bad and Cas is pressing up against him with his hips and almost panting so Dean figures he's getting into it too. Dean grinds down again, pressing them together, and again, and Dean can feel that Cas is hard.

Cas is new at this, Dean remembers, and he's not going to last long. And Dean can feel from the heat and the pressure in the pit of his stomach, and lower, that he's not going to last much longer like this either.

He should be embarrassed, Dean thinks, because he is a grown man who has had a shit load of sex and he's getting off on dry-humping someone he can't even see in a way he hasn't since he was fifteen.

But then, this is Cas, shoving back against Dean and whispering, "Dean," in hot breaths against his face. He's not just some random fuck and Dean isn't bastard enough to not realise that if they do survive this, there are going to be Consequences. It should scare him and make him back off, or at least lie to himself, but he won't do that to Cas. Whatever happens, he'll deal with it later, when Cas's hands aren't sliding slowly up Dean's chest and around his neck and burying themselves in Dean's hair, tugging almost painfully hard, pulling Dean down so Cas can lick his way into his mouth again.

Dean realises it's familiar, the way Cas kisses, that it's pretty much the same as the way Dean's been kissing Cas, which is weird. But Cas clearly liked it enough to give it a try himself so Dean opens his mouth, meets Cas's tongue, shoves his body down against Cas until the chafing of fabric on skin is almost too uncomfortable.

Cas really seems to have got the hang of it then, thrusting up to meet Dean in more of a rhythm. His hands reach down Dean's back, grabbing at Dean's ass and pulling and Dean can't help but laugh into Cas's mouth.

"Not as innocent," Dean chuckles, "As you look."

Cas kisses Dean, hard, shifts his knees higher and oh fuck there, before he threatens, serious, heavy, "I could stop." His hands grab at Dean's ass harder though so Dean says confidently, "No, you couldn't," and reaches his hand down between them. He pushes the fabric of Cas's pants out of the way and follows the line of Cas's hard cock through the material of his underwear. Loose cotton, Dean feels. Dean grins, smug, when Cas really actually moans and arches himself into Dean's hand. He kisses Cas's open mouth, presses himself down, grinds them together, and feels heat building, knows that he's sweating and that he's so close.

Panting and whispering Dean's name, Cas grabs at Dean's shoulders and at his hips, trying to get closer and trying to get friction. Cas shoves himself off the floor into Dean's hand, and under him Dean can feel how much Cas is feeling this. How much Cas is liking this and wanting this. And if it really is the first time Cas has ever done this Dean's impressed Cas has lasted even this long. Dean's pretty impressed with himself too, the way Cas keeps moving his knee against Dean's crotch and keeps kissing Dean's neck and chin where he can't quite reach his mouth. Cas breathes warm against his ear, "Dean," and "This is," and "I'm."

Dean moves his hand faster, growls out, "Faster," and "Fuck, yes," in reply. His elbows ache from leaning against cold stone, his back stings from the demon claws and his ankle hurts from the strain as he digs his toes into the ground and thrusts himself forward and he doesn't care. He wants this and he wants Cas and he's not going to think about what this could cost him or what this means or any of that kind of shit because this could be the last thing he does anyway, or the last time he does this with Cas, and either way he's going to make it good.

So Dean shifts his palm, presses more firmly, spreading his hand against Cas and Cas rears up against Dean, holding himself still and Dean can't even feel him breathing anymore and, oh God, Dean just made an angel come. Cas's body is still taut beneath him, almost shaking, holding onto Dean's hips in a crushing grip. Dean thrusts himself against Cas's knee once, twice and with the heat of it and the thought of it, Dean just breathes out, lets go and feels himself coming too, jerking himself against Cas. Dean's whole body feels flushed and it's like he's being smothered from the inside out. He's got his eyes closed tight as he rocks into Cas's softening body a few more times, riding it out until the bright, overpowering pleasure has gone right out of it. Dean's arms are killing him and it's all he can do to flop down to the side of Cas, half on top of him still and breathe. Cas doesn't seem to mind, or if he does he doesn't say anything, but his hands lay warm against Dean's sides. Cas feels relaxed under Dean, kind of comfortable where Dean's head lays propped against Cas's chest, and Dean would really like to just fall asleep like this. Not worry about anything. Just forget the world and have this.

They don't move for a long time, or what seems like a long time, and Dean lets himself doze and pretend there's nothing at all but himself and Cas and some awesome post-sex endorphins. But slowly the hard floor becomes too uncomfortable to ignore and Dean's arm grows numb from the cold. Dean can hear the demons outside again, still scraping and growling. He can smell blood and dust and now there's sex added to that, and Dean feels damp and itchy where he's made a mess of his jeans and his stomach. Cas's shirt against his face smells of sweat and Dean imagines he probably doesn't smell any better. Aches return and Dean thinks this might be worst comedown ever. He shivers and then an arm wraps around his back and Cas's still-warm hand touches his cheek. He says, "Dean," and Dean thinks Cas might just be worth it all.

"We can't stay here forever," Cas says, and he sounds almost regretful.

Dean snorts softly. "Wouldn't want to."

They're silent for a long moment in which Dean doesn't know what to say. He can't see Cas's face to gauge what he might be thinking about all this. In the darkness, all Dean can hear is his breathing, slow now, and feel Cas's chest under his head and his side, Cas's hand resting clammily against the back of Dean's neck. It's not cuddling, Dean tells himself. There is no cuddling happening. It's just kind of cold and Dean doesn't want to move.

"We won't die," Dean decides. He knows they're about to do something reckless and desperate, but it's nothing Dean hasn't done before and come out the other side more or less in one piece. He doesn't want to talk about whatever it is going on between them. Whatever's been between them for months now; something like trust and friendship and it's something different from anything Dean's ever known. It's all his. He doesn't have to share. This -liking someone- is new and maybe weird but Dean doesn't want to lose it.

Shifting to try and get some life back into his left arm Dean adds, "And next time we get a bed."

Cas's hand squeezes gently for a moment at the muscles in Dean's neck then he agrees, "Next time," and Dean grins into Cas's shirt and is for once glad of the dark, even if he knows Cas can still see.

"We good to go?" Dean asks after another long moment. He remembers what a mess Cas was in and reaches with his hand to feel its way down from Cas's shoulder to his wrist to touch at the makeshift tie-bandaging there.

Cas says, "Yes," and pulls his arm away from Dean's touch, starts pushing himself into a sitting position slowly.

Deans levers himself out of Cas's way, feeling every ache and pull and burn now, but he's weirdly rested too. Or that might just be those sex endorphins again. Sitting up, Dean keeps his leg against Cas's thigh so he knows Cas is still there. Cas doesn't move away.

"You alright?" Dean asks, zipping up his jeans and grimacing at the uncomfortable dampness and grittiness and Dean really hopes he hasn't somehow managed to get dirt down there with all the... moving about.

Now that he thinks about it, it's bad enough he's going to have to face a horde of demons sporting a wet patch and sex hair. Shit.

Cas tells him, "I'm fine."

Dean wraps his arms around himself, really starting to feel the cold against his damp skin. Cas shivers beside him.

"Know how to button those pants up?" Dean teases.

"The opposite way to getting them undone, I suppose," Cas throws back and holy crap, Dean thinks Cas just might be making an attempt at sarcasm. He goes to call him on it, but then Cas adds, "This is messy," and Dean laughs because, yeah, messy post-sex angel and Dean would give almost anything to see that.

"Yeah," Dean agrees. "This wasn't the best place to do... that."

Cas goes still, like he's thinking what to say and it's serious. Dean wonders if he's going to go for something embarrassing and touchy-feely, or if he's going to tell Dean this whole thing was a mistake and to pretend it never happened.

But all he says is, "Next time," again, definitive and Dean smiles and wonders if Cas is smiling too.

"What's the master plan then?" Dean asks, because if they don't stop sitting around being all sappy and gross Dean really is going to say something embarrassing, or else die of old age.

"We leave the wards," Cas says. "I perform the spell while you hold off the demons."

"Cas, that is a shitty plan." Dean feels he should point this out.

Dean thinks he can hear Cas shaking his head. "I don't have another."

"There's no way you can do the spell in here? Can't we, I don't know, just wipe off the sigils?"

"And then we would be trapped in here, and the demons would break in immediately and we would have nowhere to run. And you would not be able to see."

Dean has to admit, it's a pretty good argument. "Then how do we get out without getting mobbed?"

Cas thinks for a moment, then suggests, "I could speak in my true voice again." He frowns. "But it would hurt you."

"It's not so bad," Dean half-lies, because it hurts like a bitch, but from what he could tell it hurt the demons a whole lot more. "So you talk in angel, we climb up onto one of these tombs so we've at least got a defensible position and then you do your thing while I beat them off." Dean kneels down, running his hands across the floor, knowing the knife and iron have to be somewhere close. "I can do that."

Then Cas reminds him, "And we must endure the demon's influence, should they use it against us."

Dean looks up sharply, even if he can't actually see anything. "What? Fuck, no," he groans. After everything, that's about the last thing Dean needs; fake lust and a demon-induced hard-on and Cas really knows how to kill his moment of optimism.

"We will not have much time anyway," Cas goes on. "If I can't perform the ritual quickly I won't be able to at all."

Dean sighs and goes back to feeling around on the floor. His hand comes across the cold metal of the iron and he closes his fist tightly around it. "Right," is all he can say.

Cas adds unhappily, "I will need the knife."

Dean should really have guessed that there would be a bloodletting involved, because every single spell he's ever seen seems to have to, and because their day is clearly just not bad enough already. Even so, Dean wishes there was another way.

"You gonna be okay doing that?"

Maybe Dean's just imagining it but there's a softness to Cas's voice when he replies, "We don't have much choice, Dean."

"Yeah," Dean has to agree.

It sounds like Cas is picking himself slowly up off the floor somewhere to his right, brushing off his clothes. Dean doesn't even want to know how shitty they must look. They've been through a dusty old burning library, a damp, demon-monster infested crypt and humped each other on the floor of a tomb and there's no way anyone comes out of that smelling like roses.

Somehow, the knife ended up in a far corner and Dean almost wishes he hadn't found it, but they're never getting out of here without it so he picks up the blade and uses the wall to help lever himself up onto his feet. His ankle burns when he puts weight on it and he's light-headed and nauseous and thinks he's going to end up back on his ass any second, but then Dean feels Cas's hand at his elbow, his other hand gripping his upper arm.

"You're in pain," Cas says. He doesn't sound happy. "You can't fight the demons like this."

"I can," Dean tells him. He's fought demons in a much worse state than this before. He just needs a second to get his breath and his balance back.

"You should stay here," Cas argues, sounding like he's going for firm and decisive even as his thumb rubs against the material of Dean's jacket sleeve. Dean doesn't think Cas even realises he's doing it.

Dean straightens. "There is no way I am letting you go out there by yourself." Shaking his arm to dislodge Cas's grip on his elbow, Dean takes Cas's hand and slaps the knife into the palm. "Let's just get this over with."

Cas doesn't move or speak for long moments and Dean thinks they're going to get into an argument over this, but then Dean feels Cas's fingers curl around the blade carefully and he says, "Alright." He pulls away but doesn't let go of Dean's arm. "As I open the door I will speak, and then we will leave."

It all sounds so easy in principle.

"Just like that, huh?" Dean shakes his head. He's had worse ideas in his life. He thinks.

"Hopefully," Cas says. He tugs at Dean's arm, drawing him out of the corner towards the other side of the room. Tomb. Whatever. "There will be light when I open the door and it will take your eyes time to adjust. I will guide you as best I can."

Dean shifts his grip on the iron, rolls his shoulders. "Right. Just point me in the direction of those evil bitches," he quips and tries for a smile.

Cas still has a hand resting loosely on Dean's arm so Dean takes the opportunity, because he might not get one again, and reaches out his free hand, finding the front of Cas's damned coat and drags Cas bodily towards him. Dean has to guess where Cas's mouth would be but he gets it more or less right and for a moment Cas is rigid and unyielding before he realises what's going on and relaxes under Dean's hand and under Dean's mouth, leaning closer. Dean kisses him hard, until Cas's lips are well used and he's breathless. Cas is a solid weight in front of him, warm and alive, and he has one hand in Dean's hair and the other Dean can feel against his back, still holding the knife.

Dean says, "For luck," rubs his thumb at the nape of Cas's neck, feels the softness of his hair and the dampness of his skin and Cas shivers before pulling away.

"We will be very lucky then," he says, and it sounds like he's actually kind of amused. Dean grins.

Then, Dean hears Cas moving away and guesses Cas has turned towards some door that Dean can't remember coming in through and certainly can't see. There's a scraping sound of stone against stone and Dean can hear the demons outside getting louder. He's not sure if it's because of the door opening, or because the demon bastards are getting excited about having their playthings back to beat up and fuck around with. Either way, Dean hefts the iron, gripping it with both hands and tries to prepare himself for the aching pitch of Cas's voice.

Just as light is beginning to spill around the edges of the door, Cas starts to speak and there really is no way Dean could have been ready for it. It feels like someone's clawing at his brain, his ears burning from the inside out. Dean tries to concentrate on Cas, whose back is turned to him. Dean can see the strain in his shoulders and arms even under his enormous coat as Cas pushes the heavy stone door open. It's weird, Dean thinks, that there's no strain in that true voice of his. It's just one long, high-pitched note with no inflection and no break.

In the growing light Dean has to close his eyes, opening them slowly. He focuses on the cool metal in his hands, on the memory of Cas's hands and Cas's mouth. When he can finally see, even as the light makes his eyes water after the pitch black, Dean watches as Cas pushes his weight against the door so it's open enough for them to fit through. He can't see clearly, but Cas looks worse than Dean imagined; his coat stained with blood and dirt and ripped. But then, Dean guesses, he probably doesn't look much better.

Stepping outside, Dean can see the demons writhing in agony, and Dean would swear there weren't that many before. They're crowded around the tomb, falling over each other, slashing at each other as some of them attempt to escape the sound of Cas's voice. Dean can relate.

Then, Cas grabs Dean's sleeve and is pulling them through the open doorway, shouldering at demons in an effort to clear a path for them. Dean takes a breath, tries to ignore the incessant buzzing in his head and the wet warmth he's beginning to feel in his ears. He tries to open his eyes fully so he can defend himself, help clear the way, without risking swinging at Cas. The light in the graveyard is dim, he knows, but it still makes his eyes prickle and sting.

Cas moves fast, releasing his hold on Dean, and Dean watches numbly as a red faced creature launches itself at the angel, grasping for his neck. Cas knocks it away easily throwing it a good seven feet.

Getting his strength back then, Dean thinks with a fuck load of relief.

Watching Cas now, he certainly doesn't look as half-dead as he did earlier. His eye is almost normal, just yellowed -like old bruising- and there's dry blood down his cheek and neck. Dean can see clearly the wide red stains on the sleeves of his coat and at the cuffs, and on the collar of his shirt. The tie is still wound around Cas's wrist and seeing it makes Dean feels angry and useless because Cas is going to cut himself open all over again and spill more of his blood in this shit hole of a graveyard.

The sound is making his head spin, and Dean trips over a demon's tail or leg or something. He thinks he's going to fall facedown into a heaving mass of demon creatures at this rate, and wouldn't that just make his day end perfectly, when he feels Cas there again, hand folding tightly around Dean's arm before hauling him along quickly.

It takes Dean a few moments to realise that the sound is gone and that he can't feel the pain of his eardrums about to burst, or his head about to split open. There's just an annoying ringing and the dizzying relief of thank God for that.

Dean's relieved, at least, until he feels something swiping at his ankle and his foot reminds him it's already in a lot of pain thanks, and that the demons are going to be up and about any second now too.

He looks at Cas, who's looking around hurriedly. There's a high-walled tomb at their back, Dean realises.

"Why did you stop?" Dean asks urgently. His voice sounds muffled to his own ears and he has to strain to hear Cas's reply.

"It was too much for you." Cas puts his shoulder to the wall and crouches down, his hands cupped together in front of him. "I'll help you up," he says. "Quickly."

Dean would really love to argue but the demons are stirring, shaking their heads, and some of them are way too close for comfort. So Dean puts his hands on Cas's shoulders and trusts that he can bear his weight.

It seems like he does easily, because as soon as Dean's got his boot in Cas's hands, Cas boosts him up and it's an easy task to hook his arms over the roof-edge of the tomb and pull the rest of his body onto the roof. He turns around quickly, laying himself down flat on his stomach and reaching a hand down towards Cas. Demons are starting to crawl and claw their way towards him.

"Cas, hurry the fuck up," he shouts because they are too close and Cas is not even looking up at him, but somewhere to his left. Dean shouts again, angry, "Cas!" and this time Cas looks up. Dean wriggles his fingers at him. "Get the fuck up here," he commands and is thankful when Cas actually obeys, reaching towards Dean with one hand. Dean grabs on and hauls Cas up, his back pulling painfully as Cas scrabbles his feet against the rough stone of the tomb wall. The angel's weirdly light and Dean thinks he must be doing something to make himself that way because there's concentration and sweat on his face like he's running a marathon.

Something almost yanks Cas out of his grasp and Dean curses, seeing the demons swiping at Cas's legs and coat and he thinks fuck, fuck, because he's losing his grip. Cas cries out suddenly and it sounds a lot like pain so Dean makes a decision. He pretty much throws the iron he's still gripping down to his side and reaches out with a second hand, grabbing hold of both Cas's forearms and pulling as hard as he can.

Suddenly Cas feels lighter, as though the demons have lost their grip on him. Cas uses the opportunity to clamber his way up Dean's arms, flinging himself onto the tomb roof and Dean lets him, grabbing hold of the iron again as soon as Cas doesn't need his help anymore. He swings the iron a few times at the demons below as they try to climb up on top of each other, feeling sickly satisfied when the metal connects with a skull and a shoulder and Dean hears bones cracking.

Dean pulls himself up onto unsteady feet, sees Cas moving behind him, settling on his knees. They look at each other for a second and then there's no more time because the demons are howling and this time Cas winces. There's heat in Dean's stomach that is definitely not him, but that fake-lust shit these demons are obsessed with. Cas must feel it too because he shifts uncomfortably, looks down and splits the wrist that's not bound by his tie open and red blood spills out. Dean has to look away.

Instead, he stalks to the edges of the tomb, batting away any demons that even make it close to climbing up. Dean knows though, at that now familiar and really fucking hated prickling across his skin and weight in his stomach and light-headed euphoria, that he won't be able to hold them off for long. He's starting to want to touch and taste and he's sweating and grinding his teeth and those fuckers are not going to make them do that again. And Dean's not even looking at Cas.

Over their caterwauling be shouts, "Hurry up, Cas," and doesn't even think about looking back at him. That would be the worst idea in the fucking universe.

Dean takes out the frustration and the anger on the creatures, moving quickly around the edges of the tomb, swiping at the creatures and pushing them away. It almost makes Dean feel better, because it's the asshole demons' own fault.

They're gaining ground, getting up onto the roof, and Dean's getting reckless in his rage. A claw catches him in the arm and Dean slams his boot down onto the demon's knee and would sneer at the idiot creature except there are others climbing up, over bodies, dead or alive. They don't seem to give a crap.

Cas is chanting something, low and powerful, and it makes Dean's hair stand on end and a chill run down his spine. It makes the demons even more angry, even more determined, and they come at them snarling and desperate. Dean knows he can't let them disturb Cas. He knows that Cas needs to finish whatever spell he's casting or they're both dead anyway.

And then it hits Dean.

He never thought to ask what spell Cas was going to do. He could be killing himself over there, and from the amount of red Dean can see out the corner of his eye spilling onto the grey stone, he is.

But he has to trust Cas. Dean has to believe Cas isn't going to leave him behind, and that he was telling the truth when he said that this was a chance.

A chance for them.

Under his breath Dean curses. He's pissed off and he's tired and every fucking muscle in his body burns but he can do this, he decides. He can trust Cas.

A demon gets a hit at Dean's side. He rolls with it, smacks the creature upside the head with the iron then turns quickly, takes out a demon making a beeline for Cas. He sees the complicated sigils drawn in thick blood, arched and long like the weird writing from the book he ran his fingers all over and felt raised and warm and unreal in the library above them. He sees Cas bend down and place both his palms flat against the centre of his spell, speaking clipped words that don't even sound like language. And Dean believes that this is a chance.

As Dean watches, a blinding light erupts from Cas's hands and spreads, growing more intense. The whiteness washes over him and it's like having his head shoved underwater. There's silence, rather than voice, and loneliness and it doesn't hurt exactly but it's touch, as it passes though him, caressing, feels like an ache. Dean wants peace and rest and sleep so badly he wants to cry. Dean really hopes he's not crying. Sam would laugh at him.

It's so bright that Dean has to close his eyes tightly, but Dean supposes the spell is working, or at least that something is happening. He wonders if the demons want to cry too.

Then, suddenly, it's gone. The light, the silence, and the deep feeling of emptiness, all gone like they were never there. It's like the world snaps back into place and there's just Dean, remembering that his ankle hurts and he's dizzy. That he's half-deaf and his back is stinging. That he's in a cold, dank crypt with a horde of demons and one beaten up angel.

Angel.

Demons.

Dean blinks, finding himself half-laying, half-sitting up, curled in on himself. He doesn't remember sitting down, but from the moment Dean turned to look at Cas, saw him kneeling, hands flat against the stone roof, eyes closed and lips moving, Dean's memory is kind of hazy and indistinct.

Glancing around quickly, Dean spots Cas nearby, sprawled out across his own blood sigils.

And he's not moving.

Dean stumbles to his feet as quickly as he can, which is not all that fast because he feels like crap and the world tilts sickeningly when he finally gets his legs under him and half-way to standing. So Dean half walks and half crawls his way over to Cas, and when Dean touches his face he feels ill. He feels panic and anger hot in his chest because Cas is so cold.

His skin had always been warm before, even when Dean felt half-frozen. Even when he'd been bled half-dry inside the tomb. Now he's cold and Dean is not thinking dead. Dean tells himself he's not scared shitless when he presses two fingers to Cas's neck, and when he feels a pulse there Dean doesn't think about how relieved he is. He tells himself it's fine. That Cas isn't going anywhere. He's an angel, for Christ's sake. He isn't going to get killed by some spell. Dean's just strung out and half-crazy, that's all.

Sitting beside Cas for a moment with his hand on Cas's cool neck, Dean closes his eyes and counts the slow beats, just so he knows he's not imagining it.

He breathes. Tells himself to get it together. He might want to pass out or die or give up but Cas isn't awake and there's still-

Dean's eyes snap open, looking up and around wildly, but he can't see a single demon. They're just not there anymore. There aren't even any bodies that Dean can see. No piles of ashes or skulls or scorch marks or teeth. Where there were hordes before, now there's just quiet, stillness and the only evidence that there was ever a fight here is blood on the ground, shallow claw marks and deep gashes in the tomb roof where the iron rod caught on stone.

It's so silent. Dead.

Dean leans over Cas, gently tapping him on the cheek.

"Cas," he calls, "Wake up, you lazy bastard."

Dean won't believe the demons aren't going to just snap back into existence and attack them again until Cas tells him they're safe. And he wants Cas to stop doing a really good impression of a corpse. When Dean puts his hand against Cas's chest he can feel that Cas is barely breathing. Cas's wrist is still bleeding sluggishly so Dean wraps his hand around it, pressing against the wound. Cas must feel that because he shifts, groaning softly and trying to tug his hand away from Dean's grip.

"Cas, come on," Dean calls again. He takes hold of Cas's shoulder, shakes him gently.

With his eyes still closed Cas says, "We're alive," like he can't quite believe it. His voice is not much more than a sigh.

"Yeah," Dean tells him grinning because, yeah, they're alive. "You get them all?"

Cas frowns for a moment like he's concentrating, then his eyes slowly open and his face softens. He focuses on Dean. "I did," he says, and there's a half-smile on his face that Dean thinks he really likes.

"Thank fuck for that."

Dean wants to tell Cas that was an awesome spell. He wants to tell Cas he's really glad they're not dead. And Dean wants to yell at Cas for being such a reckless asshole, and tell him never to do shit like that again, but it would all be pointless. Dean's come to learn that Cas can be a stubborn bastard when he wants to be and Dean's not sure he can even compete. Cas is looking at him sort of sleepily, with what Dean thinks looks disturbingly like affection.

His voice sounds stronger when he says, "Your kiss was indeed very lucky."

Dean laughs, and the sound echoes around the empty, high ceiling arches.

Cas adds, seriously, "We must be sure to kiss every time before we go into battle."

Dean shakes his head, smiling. "Just then? Not any other time?"

"Any other time is fine," Cas tells him. "But those times must be compulsory."

Cas's lips are turned up into a sort of smile, but he sounds so serious and stern that Dean really isn't sure if he's joking or not. But then Cas's eyes are falling closed, his shoulder relaxing under Dean's hand.

"Hey." Dean shakes Cas again. "No sleeping on the job. You've got to get us out of here."

Cas heaves a sigh that Dean thinks sounds put-upon, but he does open his eyes. The light might still be dim, but Dean can see just how exhausted and sickly Cas looks and he wishes they could stop and rest, but it's cold and Cas is still bleeding and he's pretty sure they have a long way to go yet. If they stop now, he's not sure either of them will be getting up again. Even more importantly, as soon as they can get out of this damned place, away from whatever's been interfering with Cas's angel-ness, Dean is sure Cas will be able to heal himself. Hopes he can heal himself.

Dean grips Cas's wrist more tightly and Cas grimaces. "Come on then." Dean smiles, winding an arm around Cas's back, pulling him up. Cas goes willingly, silently, blinks and sways slightly when he's on his feet. Dean knows how he feels. He's in a pretty shitty state himself, but he locks his knees and balances carefully, not wanting to lean any of his weight on Cas.

"You alright to walk?" Dean asks. He doesn't let go of Cas's wrist. He would wrap it with something, but they're all out of ties.

When Cas is more or less upright he keeps his balance and nods at Dean. "I will be fine."

Cas sounds relieved and he's staring at Dean with a curious expression that makes Dean feel all kinds of pleased.

None of what he's feeling is like before either, when it was all crazy fuck-now-ness and uncomfortable erections. That might be mostly because Cas looks like he's about to fall over, but Dean finds he's feeling kind of fond, along with the concern and the aches and the annoyance and the adrenaline come-down. Dean is standing very close to Cas with an arm around his shoulders and it's dangerously close to a hug. But it's not.

Even having had the shit beaten out of him, Cas looks hopeful. Dean feels Cas relax against his side, and it's trust, Dean realises.

Dean nods, tightens his not-hugging grip around Cas's shoulders and doesn't kiss him, even though he really kind of wants to. Definitely not the time. But Cas tilts his head like he knows what Dean's thinking, which he probably does. For once though Dean doesn't mind because Cas does that half-smile thing, eyes flicking to Dean's lips, and Dean's pretty sure he's thinking the same thing.

"Long way till we're out of here?" Dean asks, more so they stop having a moment than because he wants to know.

Cas says, "Yes, but it will be easier now," and leans a little more against Dean before pulling away, shuffling towards the roof edge. Dean follows, hand still tight around Cas's wrist and doing his very best not to say anything embarrassingly sappy in return.

He'll take it as it comes, he thinks. He'll take what he can get, because Cas has already given him pretty much everything and it's about time he gave something back. So he'll trust him too. He'll trust this thing they've got going on.

And then Dean grins, thinking, sex.

He can do that too.

END