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The Keys to Destiny	By : mistresswhimsy Category: Supernatural > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2114 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Nothing about Supernatural is mine everything belongs to its rightful owners. I make no money from the series or this story.

Chapter List
- 8
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Anriel.

"No."

Anriel.

"NO!"

"Anriel." The voice was physical this time and just a tiny bit chastising. Just as physical arms wrapped around him from behind, pulling him close against a broad chest. Amor let his head tilt back so that he could gaze up at the face of Ulien, a Cherub even older than himself. The embrace would have made humans so uncomfortable. He tried to imagine Dean in this position and almost laughed aloud.

"Amor," he stressed the name, glaring up into huge, gentle black eyes that gazed down at him with kindness and sympathy.

Ulien chuckled. "Fine. Amor. You still won't listen."

"Do I ever?" Amor's answering chuckle was wry.

"Point taken. Did you hear what I said?"

Amor simply shook his head. He'd told Dean he might have a lead but he'd been lying. In truth he'd needed to run, to flee from Dean's scrutinizing, observant eyes before he'd pushed the issue further. "What happened to you?" he'd asked. The Cherub shuddered; not yet, he thought. He couldn't tell him yet. Not even Castiel knew that.

"I said we've seen increased activity from Lilith. I'm not sure but she seems to oppose Azazeal's plan, whatever it is."

Amor leaned more heavily against Ulien and wrapped his arms over the other Cherub's larger ones. They'd known each other for what seemed literally forever. The huge Cherub had always made Amor feel protected and loved. Now was no different, except that maybe he needed it more.

"Are we doing the right thing?" Amor murmured, a fit of uncertainty overcoming him. He'd never let Castiel know but it was happening to him more and more frequently lately. He didn't know what he would do if Ulien wasn't there to help him through it.

Ulien sighed, though the sound was far more fond than irritated. He shifted so that his chin was resting in Amor's short hair. "We haven't been struck down yet," he said dryly. "So I think we're okay."

Amor chuckled. "Where are the others?" he asked.

Others. There were only five of them. Five. Out of hundreds of Angels of every class, five had chosen to defend humanity. One wasn't even technically an Angel anymore. He'd become a Trickster, known most prominently throughout the human world as Loki. Known to them as Gabriel. Amor could still remember him when he'd been an Arch Angel, a force to be reckoned with. The reasons behind Gabriel's change had never been clear to him. It did pose a rather large problem, however; Amor was never sure whether or not to trust him. He wasn't even sure why Gabriel had popped up from out of the blue to help. He did so at random, when it seemed to suit him and no sooner.

"Gabriel is who knows where," Ulien replied with a sigh. "The other two children are out scouting, I believe. I haven't seen them for hours."

Children. That made Amor chuckle again. Muriel and Naren were thousands of years old but to Amor and Ulien, who had seen millenia beyond count, they were mere toddlers. Very strong, very capable toddlers, but toddlers nonetheless.

"I should go back," Amor murmured. He snuggled even further into the comfort of the Cherub's chest, unperturbed by Ulien's nudity; modesty was a human condition. A sad one, too, in his mind. One he was fearing might be wearing off on him; he was still wearing the jeans and black tee he'd materialized the day he'd flown Castiel from his home.

"Do they need you now?" Ulien asked.

Amor nodded. When he'd told Cas before that he hadn't told the others about them it had been true; he'd only broken down and told Ulien a short while ago. He couldn't stand hiding anything from one of his closest friends. "Dean has a lot of training to do. He has the instincts of a Hunter, I've seen it, but they've never been nurtured. Besides..." his first true, happy grin in what felt like days spread across his face. For a Cherub used to smiling almost constantly, it was a strange sensation. "I want to see if anything has developed between Cas and Dean!"

Ulien laughed at that, a full laugh that came from deep in his chest. Amor could feel it vibrating against his back. "You go, then. You could use the boost. I'll let you know if anything important develops."

Ulien dropped a kiss in Amor's hair before the Cherub vanished.

... * ...

Disbelief struck Castiel, as evident as a bolt of lightening in his shocked gaze. "You...are you sure? Would it be easier if I were here? Or would that make it worse?"

Dean shook his head. Cas could see grief beginning to build in his eyes, though none of the anger he'd feared. "It'll make it worse. But...I appreciate the offer. Just...just go for a walk. If you see me sitting on the porch it's okay to come back."

"Okay." Castiel stood, trying his best to control the shaking in his body. He wished it was entirely the excitement he'd felt before and not the dread he could now feel coming from Dean in harsh, sickening waves. "Do you want me to take Dad?"

"He's gone," Dean answered. "He thought he might have a lead on Sam."

"Okay."

For a second Castiel didn't move. He couldn't, not when Dean was sitting there looking for all the world like a kicked puppy. Just go, he told himself. He wasn't going to get better until this was done and over with.

So Cas went to the door, casting one final glance back at the man sitting with his face now buried in his hands.

And he walked.

At first the half blood had intended to simply go in circles around the block. He'd do that, he thought, until he saw Dean sitting outside. Instead he found himself continuing onwards until he'd passed the cafe he'd stopped at...had it really been mere days? From there he made his way down to the auto shop, until finally he'd reached the bar Dean had been parked outside of on their first meeting. He could use a drink. He could definitely use a drink.

It was just after four, so the bar hadn't picked up too much. A group of guys was gathered around the pool table, laughing and joking with each other in an easy manner that suggested they worked together, and a young couple sat at the bar. Cas picked a small table tucked away in a corner, ordered a hard lemonade and watched the pool game, hoping it would help distract him.

It became very evident very quickly that the game was not going to be of any assistance, so Castiel settled back in his seat and let his mind wander. The sheer volume of grief and dread that had poured from Dean's aura had nearly been enough to harm Cas's sensitive empathic abilities. It had felt as though he were being overrun by the man's emotions, as though they had sought to push out his own so that they could tuck themselves somewhere distant and safe. And he was still going through with it, Cas thought with a little shiver. He felt sorry for Carmen, none of this was her fault and she certainly didn't deserve to have Dean stolen right out from under her, yet no matter how hard he tried he could not bring himself to feel guilty. That was good, he supposed. They didn't need to add guilt to an already tangled mess. Especially not now, when he'd found the end of the rope and was finally working those tangles out.

Cas was so lost in thought that he didn't notice when Amor sat down beside him, not until the Cherub put a hand on his arm. Pulling in a deep breath, as though he'd forgotten to breathe at all during his thoughts, Castiel turned in his seat to face his Father. The Cherub stared back at him, head cocked curiously, looking so hopeful that Castiel felt a grin begin to form on his face.

"He kissed me," Cas murmured, and when he said it somehow it became more real. For a glorious moment all the negative that had transpired in the last few days was swept away in a tidal wave of pure euphoria. Dean had kissed him!

Amor whooped and threw his arms around his son, oblivious to the multitudes of eyes that came to suddenly focus on them in both confusion and hesitant amusement. Castiel hugged him back, grinning like a complete fool, ignoring the stares and the feelings that accompanied them.

"He didn't freak out, did he?" Amor asked, sitting back abruptly and looking worriedly into Cas's eyes. The moment he saw the half blood's grin his worry melted into a grin of his own, even goofier than his son's. "Oh, he didn't! I see it! Don't worry about Carmen, she and Dean wouldn't have stayed together even if you hadn't found him."

Though Castiel had yet to feel any guilt the comment still eased him, somehow. "Did you find anything about Sam's whereabouts?"

Amor shook his head, his expression clouding so quickly and completely that it startled Cas. "No, nothing. And now it seems Lilith is getting involved. That information may be iffy, though. It came from..." Amor paused, glancing around with uncharacteristic paranoia. He leaned in close and whispered Gabriel's name in Cas's ear.

"He's involved?" Cas said in surprise. He knew of Gabriel, or Loki, from stories Amor had told him as a child. He'd never seemed like one to help humanity.

Amor nodded. "I'm never sure whether to trust him or not. He hasn't betrayed us yet..." Amor sighed. "I hate this. I hate not knowing...I hate not trusting. I hate it. It goes against my nature. Why are you here?"

The last question was thrown in so suddenly that for a moment Castiel had no idea what he was talking about. Then he realized the Cherub couldn't figure out why Cas had left if things were going well with Dean. Rather than explain it aloud he projected the last few hours to Amor's mind and watched understanding bloom in his gaze.

"Ah. I see. I'll stay away a while longer, let you two have a few hours. Then we can't delay any longer."

"We shouldn't delay at all," Castiel pointed out. Dean was getting more frantic for his brother by the second. Even now, at this distance, he could feel it, a persistent thought, a need at the back of the soon-to-be-hunter's mind.

An unusual need, Castiel thought. Cas had seen his share of siblings. Some were closer than others but this...it was something he'd never seen before. Were they siblings in soul as well as in blood? That might help to explain their need for each other and Dean's unusual level of protectiveness. But it didn't explain why he was this frantic. There was a sheer terror buried beneath layers of tough-guy-act and Castiel couldn't help but think there was a piece of this puzzle hidden carefully under the carpet.

"Azazael isn't going to hurt him," Amor said suddenly. "At least not this quickly. He wouldn't have gone through all this trouble only to kill him. Take a couple hours. The more you bond with Dean now the stronger you'll both be for it."

Cas opened his mouth to protest but Amor fairly screamed "No arguing!" and vanished before the half blood could mutter so much as a syllable.

...*...

Carmen wasn't in their room.

For just a moment Dean felt a sense of pure panic. Where had she gone? Had the demons gotten to her? Then he saw a note on the table, a quick scribble that said only:

We need to talk. I'll be at your parents. Call me when you're ready. NO BACKING OUT.

Love you.

The final two words almost killed him. He brushed his finger over them as his resolve wavered. Should he really go through with this? What if it wasn't worth destroying what he had now? What if this mess with Cas turned out to be a complete waste of time and he lost one of the best things that had ever happened to him?

On the other hand...what if Cas turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to him?

Amor had been so adamant. So desperate to make him understand that Dean couldn't understand, not until he chose to 'risk it.' Once more he brushed his fingers across the words. So, it came down to that. Was he willing to risk it or not?

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell.

Now that he was calmer, he wasn't surprised she had snuck out. Even if he didn't want to talk, Dean had never just blown her off like that. He was only grateful she had decided to give him some space and wait for his call rather than demand an explanation right then and there. She knew him so well...

For just a second Dean felt tears spring to his eyes, nasty little stings that made him feel weak. There was nothing he hated more than feeling weak, so he gave an angry growl to frighten the irritating bastards away and punched the call button with more force than was needed.

"Dean?" Carmen's voice was sleepy and slurred when she answered. Despite the situation she had still managed to fall asleep; long hours working at night did that to you. "Hey, I was going to talk to you but you looked...busy. Figured you'd call when you were ready."

"Hey. Yeah." Dean's voice was an uncertain murmur. "I'm sorry about earlier. About just leaving like that, without telling you what was going on. Mom and Dad give you the whole scoop?"

"Most of it." He could hear Carmen shifting, likely sitting up on the couch. "I was shocked about Jessica. I can't believe...I feel like I should have known somehow, you know? I mean, we were kind of friends. I feel so sorry for Sam." Another shift, a sudden, sharp sound, like she was trying to clear her throat. "Dean...I need to ask you something."

"Okay." Great. He got to avoid the subject just a little longer. He grabbed hold of the delay as though it were a life line, even though his better sense told him to just get it over with.

"I followed you after a few minutes. I was so surprised you just left like that, I thought maybe you were angry but I didn't know why. I saw you...I saw you leaning over your friend and at first I thought you were checking on him but then...well, it looked like you were smelling him, like you do to me sometimes when you think I'm asleep."

Oh, crap. Apparently he was going to have to get this over with right on schedule.

"Carmen...I...fuck," the curse was soft but still managed to travel through to it's destination. He heard a sharp, shocked intake of breath and began to talk, too quickly, trying to get it all out at once before the knot in his stomach and his hammering heart managed to choke him. "You're right, I was, and it's all messed up because I don't like guys but I feel so weird when he's around, but a good kind of weird, you know? God, Carmen, I can just brush his hand and it's the same as if you and I were naked and tangled up and half way there. I don't understand it but...but I think I have to..."

"Stop!" Carmen's voice was sharp with upset but not the anger Dean was expecting. He heard her take several deep breaths before she spoke again. "What you're trying to say is...is that we're o-over?"

The little hitch in her voice on the final word almost did Dean in. He nearly began laughing hysterically and trying to claim it was all a prank, they weren't over, it was all okay! Those damn little stinging bastards were behind his eyes again, making his voice thick as he spoke. "I'm sorry," he whispered shakily. "God, Carmen, I'm sorry!"A quiet intake of breath and a sniffle traveled through the phone. The desire to somehow climb through and soothe away her tears was maddening. "Thanks for being straight with me," she choked out. The choice of words almost, almost, made Dean laugh. "How...how is this going to work?"

Dean realized she meant their home. "Stay there for a couple days." He managed to get most of the sentence out without his voice shaking. "Then...we'll be gone."

"Okay." The word was barely a whisper. "Dean...I love you, you know that, right?"

That was it. All it took were those words for Dean to finally break down. The tears were silent, yet at the same time they were as loud as fireworks as they snaked in salty wet lines down his cheeks. "Yeah," he murmured hoarsely. "I love you, too. I wish...I wish this was different."

"I know. I need to hang up, or I'm going to get angry, and I have this weird feeling I shouldn't be angry. Maybe...we'll talk later?"

Dean nodded even though she couldn't see him. "Yeah. Yeah, later."

She was gone. Dean felt like someone had taken his heart from his chest, beat the crap out of it with a meat tenderizer and then stuffed it back in again, mutilated and hurt.

He went and sat on the porch, phone held limply in one hand.

He waited.

It could have been hours or mere minutes, his blankly staring eyes seemed to have no concept of time. He registered only the fact that it was growing dark when Castiel sat beside him. He heard a rustle and a soft clink as Cas set something down but it seemed so unimportant that he didn't even glance over to see what it was. The half blood shifted, like he was going to put an arm around Dean, then he seemed to think better of it and set his hands in his lap instead.

"Go ahead," Dean murmured. He'd just sacrificed Carmen for this, there was no way he was going to let Cas continue to be as hesitant as he had up until now.

Cas shifted again, then Dean felt a comfortingly heavy arm settle across his shoulders. He waited for more, expecting Castiel's cherub nature to take over, but nothing more came. The half blood only watched him, his eyes sad and sympathetic, and played his fingers gently over Dean's shoulder through his shirt. It was perfect, Dean thought with more surprise than he knew he should have felt. Cas had been able to sense him since the beginning. Still, Dean had not quite expected this offering of comfort, with enough contact to feel reassuring but pulled back enough so as to not be suffocating. Nor had he expected the silence. Cas made no demands to hear Dean's feelings, didn't try to get him to say he was okay. He just watched him and waited with all that infuriating patience of his.

Suddenly, Dean didn't like this. He didn't like that Cas could feel him well enough to know exactly what he needed, yet he couldn't feel Cas at all. So he concentrated, imagining that there was some kind of line between them that allowed their feelings to pass back and forth. It hit him so suddenly it was almost a shock; the sympathy and sadness he could so clearly see in the blue, blue eyes, yet also a joy so intense that for a moment Dean felt it as his own. It filled him with warmth, banishing, however briefly, the grief that had been threatening to consume him. And beyond that was something else, a sense that Cas was indeed holding himself precariously in check so as to not overwhelm Dean.

Screw it, Dean thought.

He lifted his own arm and put it around Cas's waist. There was a brief, surprised widening of the half blood's eyes and then Dean could see nothing more because Cas had enveloped him. Arms gripped tight while hands roved desperately across his back. Words in a language Dean didn't understand were whispered frantically in his ear before lips began to brush butterfly-soft kisses across his neck. Had it been anyone else such a frantic display of affection would have driven him far beyond even the highest level of his comfort zone. As it was, each shift of Cas's hands, each touch of his mouth against his skin, seemed to chase his grief further and further away, replacing it with warmth and an odd, shivering kind of joy he'd never experienced before. So he tilted back his head, flashed a quick grin at the half blood, and let him have at it.

Just as suddenly as he'd begun, Castiel stopped. He pulled himself forcibly away from Dean and sat back, breathing hard, eyes closed, lips parted. Dean found himself staring at those lips, felt excitement zing down his spine as he began to lean forward. He wanted to feel them again, he thought distantly...

"No." Gently, Castiel lifted a hand and placed it against Dean's chest, stopping his motions. "We only have a little bit longer before Dad comes back."

"So?" Dean slid closer, pushing passed the weak restraint of Cas's hand. Had he truly wanted to keep him back, Dean thought, he would have been able to. "Little bit is better than none."

"True." Castiel grinned suddenly, almost wolfishly. The expression pulled a startled laugh from the other man. "But if I keep touching you, we'll never find Sam."

That snapped Dean back to reality. "Damn. Just when I was starting to get nice and forgetful..." Dean muttered agitatedly.

Cas chuckled and reached behind him. The crinkle Dean had heard earlier was a white and red grocherey sack. "Here. This helps you forget, too." He pulled the sack away and placed a six pack of Budweiser in Dean's lap.

Dean just stared.

"I found a ten dollar bill outside the bar when I was coming back," Castiel said. "A six pack was all I could get with it."

Dean didn't care. The fact that Cas had even thought of it meant the world to him.

Pulling one beer free, Dean set the others down and cracked the first one open. Part of him was grateful that Cas had pulled back, he realized. Despite how nice it had been, he wasn't ready to try anything more. Not yet, not with the grief of losing Carmen still hovering so close. Not with a lifetime of heterosexuality demanding to know what the hell he thought he was doing. He told said sexuality to go fuck itself (it probably needed it, anyway) and then told himself that Cas wasn't going to push it. The half blood would let him go slow.

The last thought sent a sudden, unexpected surge of affection through Dean. He let himself act on it by reaching out and placing a hand on the back of Castiel's neck. It was something he wouldn't have done to Carmen; she hadn't even really liked being kissed there. Cas, on the other hand, sighed quietly and leaned back into his hand. Daring to open that line again, Dean felt a contentment pouring from Cas that was so pure it seemed like he should have been purring. The thought made Dean chuckle and he heard Castiel laugh in return. Had he picked up on that thought through their connection?

"I didn't expect you to be open to this so quickly." Castiel's words confirmed Dean's suspicion.

"I didn't, either," Dean replied with a shrug. "I didn't even know I could do it."

He started to say more but was stopped by a sound that could only be described as a squeal. Though he didn't have to see to know who'd made such a girly sound, Dean looked up anyway to find Amor standing in front of them.

"I'm sorry!" Amor said cheerfully, not sounding sorry at all. "Cas understands but I don't think you have any idea what this is doing to me. This is what Cherubs exist for! Oh, oh...I'm sorry, I have to!" He darted forward and flung his arms around Dean's neck.

"Okay, okay," Dean muttered uncomfortably, patting Amor awkwardly on the shoulder. When Amor refused to release him Dean let out a defeated sigh and hugged him back.

"Did you find anything on Sam?" Dean asked as soon as Amor had sat back.

The Cherub's expression fell. "No. Nothing. Speaking of that, though, we should start you on hand to hand."

Dean sighed; great, more training. He nodded, though, and heaved himself up from the stairs, offering a hand to Cas before he even thought to do so. "I might know a little," He said as they made their way inside. "I used to get into fights at school all the time. Never lost."

Cas glanced at him dubiously, then chuckled and shared a look with his Father. Dean glared at them both; he just knew they'd seen that fight with Cory Jensen in high school. He'd gone after the guy for bullying Sam (actually, now that he thought about it, almost every fight he'd ever gotten into was over Sammy) and had wound up in the hospital with a broken arm and nose. He'd come to find out later that Cory had been raised by a Dad who had a black belt in karate, though, so he'd decided it didn't count.

Then again, he was going to be facing things far more dangerous than a seveteen year old with a decent martial arts technique. So maybe it was the only one that really did count.

...*...

Sam had always been the emotional Winchester. He was the first to share what he was feeling, the first to empathize with others. He was the only person in the entire family that could get Dean to (kind of) share his own feelings by simply giving him his puppy stare and saying a few choice words. He almost never got angry if there was another, less dangerous emotion readily available, which had always irked his older brother. Anger was the best choice, he'd say, and then he'd puff out his chest and pretend like he was just that manly.

Well, Dean would have been proud of him now.

Sam was beyond pissed. In fact, he'd passed pissed several exits back, along with route Angry and junction Rage. If he had to guess he would say he'd planted himself quite firmly somewhere between Hysterical Street and Insanity Lane. The fact that he was laying his emotions out like a road map didn't help his case, nor did the sheer amount of damage lying in spectacular shards at his feet.

What had happened to his life? Less than a week ago he'd been one of the top students in his class, he'd had the best girlfriend anyone could hope for and he'd been about to marry her. His life had been as close to perfect as it could get.

Now he was stuck in the basement level of an unknown building, whisked there by who-the-hell-knew what. His girlfriend was dead. Who knew if he'd ever see his college again, or even the outside of this building. Demons and vampires and all manner of nightmare creatures actually existed.

And then there was the matter of his Cherub.

Damn it, the Cherub! Sam cursed himself and kicked a nearby, splintered table. Mere seconds after meeting Amor the Cherub had somehow become his. Every time he thought of Amor it was always his. At first he hadn't even noticed. It had felt oddly natural to have Amor around and he'd decided it must be the combination of Angel and Believer. But that didn't explain why he kept thinking of Amor as his. The strange thing was it didn't feel possessive, it just seemed like a fact. A well known, well established fact that made him smile every time he saw the angel and thought of it.

Sam kicked the table again, ignoring the dull, throbbing pain it caused in his foot. What bothered him more than anything was that he was thinking about Amor more than Jessica. He missed her fiercely, and was still determined to destroy the thing that had killed her, yet...yet what? He was thinking about an angel more than his dead girlfriend. How did he justify that?

Again, Sam lashed out, this time slamming his hand into a mirror he had already smashed twice. Blood dripped from his palm but the pain was dull and distant. He didn't. He didn't justify it.

To distract himself, Sam looked around at his handiwork. No more than a second had passed between standing in the doorway with Dean and appearing in this basement, with no explanation as to what had happened or who had brought him here. He'd spent what he thought must have been hours trying to get out but the only door wouldn't budge no matter what he did to it. He'd tried his cell phone but there was no signal. There were no windows, only a vent that was too high for him to reach, even when he'd piled together what little had been stored there. That was when the rage had taken him. He'd smashed the table to pieces with nothing but his feet and his bare hands. The huge, old mirror that had been leaning on the wall had gone next, making him bleed in several places. A printer and a few old computer towers lay in chunks beside the table.

There was only one thing Sam hadn't touched. In the left corner by the door there was a huge fridge, one of the double door kinds with the ice machine in the front. It was plugged in and when Sam had opened it he'd found his favorite beer, assorted chocolates (Dean had teased him endlessly when they were kids for his weakness for chocolate) and all the makings for his favorite kinds of salads, complete with a wide variety of dressings. There was also a glass for the beer chilling in the freezer above it. The rational part of Sam's mind had made him leave it; who knew how long he'd be down here? Still, he'd been too afraid to touch it. It scared him more than anything else. Why was it here? Who knew, aside from Jessica and his family, about his favorites? Why had someone taken him to this dank old basement but given him the comfort of good food? It had to be poisoned, right?

He was going to have to find out, sooner or later. His stomach was starting to growl.

A generic ringtone blared suddenly from Sam's pocket. Frantically, he plunged a hand into his jeans pocket and came up with the phone. Hope was in his gaze as he flicked it open, praying he'd see Dean's number, hoping he had somehow stepped into just the right spot with just enough signal. Instead he saw an unknown number. Probably a misdial, he thought, but maybe he could talk them into contacting Dean for him.

"Hello?"

"Hey there, Sammy!" The voice was unfamiliar.

"Don't call me that!" Sam growled automatically; no one called him that but Dean. "Who are you?"

"Soon enough, soon enough," the voice replied coolly. "Sorry about the accommodations, I've got a couple of pests on my tail. Soon as I shake 'em I'll be back to get you. Don't bother trying to call anyone, I'm the only one who can get through to you."

For a moment Sam just stood there, staring stupidly at nothing. "Who are you?" He repeated finally. He didn't know what else to do.

"Let's just say I'm the one who knows who killed your girlfriend."

The line went dead. Sam screamed aloud in frustration and almost threw the phone before common sense bashed him in the head and made him look at the signal instead. Nothing.

Leaning back against the wall, Sam let himself slide down until he was sitting on the cold, concrete floor. He folded his arms on his knees and waited.
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The Keys to Destiny