Love Songs For Stalkers 2/2

[dime_liora]

Part 1




He woke up the next morning to Queensrÿche, and for a moment Dean was honestly overwhelmed with gratitude to Sam. Years ago, they had worked out a deal where they traded off who got to set the alarm, where the person setting the alarm picked the radio station it went off on. On Sam’s mornings, Dean usually had to listen to whiny hipsters or wailing women. For once, Sam had apparently chosen a Classic Rock station, and Dean turned to heap praise on his little brother for his fine taste.

What he saw stopped him in his tracks. Sam was staring at the clock radio with a look that suggested both fear and accusation. Dean moved slowly and carefully to the edge of the bed, because that look was the one Sam had worn so often right after he came out of the Cage. If this was a setback, it couldn’t have come at a worse time. They were supposed to be checking into a series of odd behaviors and deaths at a nursing home, and Dean knew he was going to need the back-up.

“Sammy? What’s up?” Dean had made it to the edge of the mattress without Sam realizing it, and his brother jumped at the sound of his voice.

“I just - that wasn’t-“ Sam’s voice cut out on him, and then he shook himself before turning fully to face Dean. “Something’s going on, Dean.”

Dean raised an eyebrow before holding one hand out. “Is it memories, Sam? Are you having flashbacks or something?”

Sam gave him the kind of bitchface he used to long for, and then pointed at the radio with a shaky hand. “That’s not supposed to be playing, Dean. I set it to alternative last night. ‘Gonna Get Close To You’ is not alternative.”

The pressure lifted off Dean’s shoulders as he leaned back and stretched. “Oh. Oh, it’s just that.” He stood before reaching for his pants and pulling them on over his boxers. He needed to brew coffee and then they could be clear-headed enough to find a good breakfast and the local library.

“Just that?” Sam’s voice came out high and strained. “Dean, that’s kinda big. That’s something changing the station. In our room.”

The coffee pot burbled once and died, and Dean frowned at it before digging through his duffel and finding a clean shirt. He pulled it on and then turned to give Sam his full attention. “Don’t worry about it, Sammy. It’s perfectly fine.”

Sam looked at him in disbelief and then swallowed once before dropping his eyes. “Dean. Listen, I know you think this is-“

“I think it’s an old clock radio. I think you’re making a big deal out of nothing, and we shouldn’t do that. We got enough real big deals, Sammy, we don’t need to go borrowing trouble. It’s all okay. Alright?” He tried hard to sound soothing instead of condescending, and Sam squinted at the floor before standing and heading for the bathroom.

“Okay, Dean.” He sounded defeated, and Dean made sure to get his favorite omelet from the diner and the sweetest coffee abomination they offered.

It really wasn’t anything to worry about.

---

The case itself was fairly straightforward, and Dean honestly didn’t expect a lot of issues. Whatever was preying on the Heritage Home residents, it had slid under the radar for at least five or six years thanks to the normality of death in a nursing home. If it hadn’t been for Dean picking up the wrong newspaper on his morning run, they wouldn’t even have seen the strange interview given by Mrs. O’Malley about the death of her roommate.

Picking out unnatural deaths in an old folks’ home seemed like a challenge, but it turned out that the residents were extremely chatty, and Sam used old records and interviews to weed out the ones that matched the death that had originally caught their eye. According to Mrs. O’Malley, and the others like her, the victim left the room because a voice was calling their name. To be more specific, Mrs. O’Malley claimed Elise left the room because her husband was calling her. Since her husband died in 2001, that seemed highly unlikely.

While Sam sifted through lore Dean headed for Heritage Home. Cas popped into the car as he pulled into the parking lot. Dean almost hit a bumper when he jerked the wheel. “Dude, we talked about that!”

Cas didn’t even have the decency to pretend to be ashamed. “Has Sam isolated a potential monster for this hunt?”

Dean put the Impala into park and turned the engine off before facing the angel head on. “Not yet, but I’m gonna see if I can’t get a little more to the story than the blurb from the human interest piece. Wanna come in with me?”

“Of course.” Castiel surveyed their surroundings and turned back to Dean. “What role will I be playing?”

He still wasn’t very good at lying, and Dean sorted through the badge box before he found one he had made for Cas. “My silent partner. We’re FBI. You’re Agent Mason and I’m Agent Gilmour.”

The angel’s eyebrow quirked as he accepted the badge. “Alright.”

The whole time Dean questioned the orderlies, doctors, and residents, Cas’s eyes roamed around the facility. The angel barely spoke, and when he did break his silence, it was with unhelpful comments on the inevitability of death and the advanced age of the clientele. Dean shot him more than one shut up look, but Cas didn’t seem to catch it.

Which was…odd. Cas may not be the best at interpreting emotions and displaying them, but he had become a master of reading Dean. He seemed distracted and off, and Dean finally couldn’t take it anymore. He led Cas into a secluded corner and ran a hand over the back of his neck as he made sure no was listening.

“What the hell is wrong with you today?”

Cas’s electric blue eyes landed on him and focused fully for the first time since they exited the Impala. “I am seeing…there are a large number of reapers here.”

Dean blew out a breath and then leaned a little closer. “Of course there are. It’s an old folk’s home. People die here a lot.”

A head shake, and then a slight frown. It was apparently emotion day for the normally stoic angel. “There is one in particular that looks familiar. She has been watching you.”

There was a slight hesitation before Dean felt the smile break out over his face. “Dark hair, pretty, looks kinda pissed?”

Cas nodded and pointed over Dean’s shoulder, towards empty air. “Over there.”

“Yeah, still can’t see her, Cas. That’s Tessa. She and I are old friends.” Dean repressed the urge to turn and wave. “Remember when they were trying to kill reapers to break that seal? Well she was one of the marks.”

“She is staring at you quite intensely.” Cas’s lips twitched downwards again, and Dean finally got it.

“Are you - Cas are you jealous?” If there was glee in his voice, it could easily be covered by the fact that this was the first time in a long time Cas was expressing an emotion other than lust or concern. Dean kind of liked when Cas emoted. It certainly had nothing to do with what emotion the angel was specifically feeling.

“I am not jealous, Dean, I am simply stating that she is staring at you intensely.” Those eyes narrowed the tiniest fraction before returning to their normal width. “She has been since we entered the facility.”

“Yeah, she’s not interested man, she’s probably suspicious. I have a habit of gumming up her works.”

On some kind of crazy impulse, Dean leaned in and brushed his lips over the angel’s lightly and with no real purpose. It was the most chaste kiss they’d ever shared, and he didn’t miss the way Cas leaned slightly into it as Dean pulled away.

“Oh. I will take that into account.” Cas studied him for a moment, and then to break the tension, Dean turned and led them towards the exit. It was time to pick up Sam and head to dinner.

---

“Sam is looking very stressed. Is this case taking a special toll on him?”

They were stretched across the Impala’s backseat, and for some reason, Dean was zoning in and out despite his better intentions. He was usually better about being awake and alert, but something about the warmth coming off Cas’s half-dressed body, or maybe the little patterns the angel was drawing on his forearm, had Dean drifting in and out.

“I don’t think so. He’s got-“ Dean realized he didn’t want to discuss this with Castiel. Didn’t want to call attention to the angel’s behavior since Cas was working so hard to play it off. “He’s just being paranoid. Leftover shit from the Cage y’know?”

Cas nodded thoughtfully and then shifted slightly. His fingers left Dean’s arm and Dean felt the loss. “I should - I am probably needed and I know this part of our relations makes you uncomfortable.”

Dean felt the frown. “What part? What the hell are you talking about?”

He got a pitying look as an answer. It was…well, weird. Cas wasn’t supposed to have so many expressions.

“You have boundaries, Dean, and I am alright with them. I will not push you if you are not ready.”

With that and the sound of wings fluttering, the angel disappeared and left Dean to consider just what he was hinting at. He didn’t particularly care for it. Sure they had their rules, and that was just fine with Dean, but he could handle a little post-coital hanging out. To be honest, he’d found he liked it. The whole thing felt so much like those nights they’d spent on the front porch while Sam was recovering, and Dean enjoyed being that close without the need to emotionally bleed or analyze. He liked the way Castiel could simply sit, pondering everything or nothing, and the lack of pressure to be anything but what he was.

He wasn’t the one dropping hints at something more and then pretending they never happened. He wasn’t the one leaving love notes and gifts, changing radio stations, and making romantic gestures before playing it off. Whatever Castiel was up to, Dean decided that after the case, they needed to sit down and hash it out.

In the meantime, Dean cleaned himself up the best he could and pulled his clothes back on before getting into the front seat. The Nelsons “I Don’t Mind” greeted him, blasting at a louder volume than he remembered leaving the radio at.

“Very passive aggressive, Cas.” Dean turned the stereo down and headed for the motel.

---

Sam was staring his laptop down when Dean opened the door and dropped the case of beer on the table beside his brother. He twisted the cap off a bottle and Sam accepted it without looking up as he started to actively grumble.

“I don’t think you’re intimidating it, little brother.” Dean flopped back on the bed with his own bottle and took a long pull. “Pretty sure it doesn’t work that way. Tried myself enough times.”

The laptop clapped shut as Sam drank from his beer and slumped back into the uncomfortable-looking chair. “There’s just not enough information. It shouldn’t be a wil-o’-the-wisp because they’re not being led to their death outdoors. It couldn’t be a shapeshifter because the voices we’re hearing about are from people who’ve been dead and buried too long. There’s just too much stuff that can mimic the human voice, and without an eyewitness, we’re just flying blind.”

Dean huffed a laugh. Sam gave him bitch face number twenty-seven, Dean, you’re not taking this seriously. “Sammy, you made a joke. Eyewitness? Flying blind?”

Sam pursed his lips and then drank some more of his beer. “Ha ha. Anyway, the point is there’s just a lot of stuff it could be, but nothing it obviously is.” For a moment, Sam looked like he wanted to go on, and then something dark crossed over his face. “Hey, Dean?”

That tone was never good. That tone always indicated trouble, and Dean didn’t want trouble tonight. “Yeah, Sam? Want to suggest more monsters, or maybe a movie?” He offered his brother an out, and as was tradition, Sam didn’t take it.

“We could get separate rooms.” Sam sipped his beer and then turned so Dean couldn’t see his face. That was a new development in his behavior, and not one Dean cared for. “You know. At motels.”

“Well, I’ve never cared for your midnight farting, but it’s never run me out of a room before.” Dean changed the channel, considered the infomercial, and then moved on.

“Diner food is - Dean that’s not what I mean. I want you to - if you need to - I just-“ Sam’s hands went up a little before he settled back down and mumbled just loud enough for Dean to catch it. “You shouldn’t have to sneak around.”

Well. Well. Fuck. “Sam, if I got a girl I’ll bring her here in a heartbeat. You know I don’t hesitate to kick you out.” It was said light, teasing, but Dean knew Sam wouldn’t take the out.

“It’s not a girl you’ve been interested in Dean. I get it. I really do, and I’m - I’m happy for you man. I want that for you.”

Dean turned off the TV and shut off his lamp before rolling over. So much for relaxing with a beer and his brother. “Night, Sam.”

“Dean, it’s nothing to be ashamed about. Cas is-“

“Not important or relevant. Sleep now. We gotta figure out what we’re hunting tomorrow.”

---

The house is so beautiful. The trees around it are all in bloom and Dean takes a deep breath of the light floral scent before he starts to head down the path. He needs to make it to the door.

It’s unlike any compulsion Dean has ever experienced before. Something inside of him screams for the house and the inherent promise in its bright red door. Something makes him think that all he has to do is enter and everything else will simply slip away.

Dean remembers the feeling but not the context of it. There’s rest there, a kind of rest that sleep just won’t offer, and peace entwined in the promise of it. A finality that Dean wants more than anything else. No more fighting and no more losing, no more watching the shadow of his once strong little brother, and no more wondering if he’s making a mistake when it comes to Castiel.

Sam has seen it though, and now there’s no getting away from it. Sam won’t let go of it, changes in his personality or not, and that means eventually Dean is going to have to face it too. Dean’s going to have to make a decision as to whether or not he can walk away from what Cas is offering him. The gifts and notes are-

As the thought clouds roll in, and Dean’s pace picks up incrementally as he considers the bad weather overtaking the sky. There’s never been menacing clouds here before. For a moment the house looks different, darker and more ominous, but then it’s gone and Dean’s back on the path to peace.

He reaches the steps, hand on the smooth railing and eyes fixed on the door, when the voice reaches him. It’s familiar, husky and low, and Dean turns toward the trees looking for its source. Sure, the house is offering him an end to suffering, but that voice is worth a little suffering, isn’t it?

The steps shake under his feet, and there’s a wail of grief and anger before Dean is ejected from the dream.

---

Sam still wasn’t great around other people. It was one of the reasons Cas had been going in to a lot of places with Dean. Sure, the angel couldn’t lie for shit and he still didn’t understand that a lack of contractions freaked people out, but he didn’t shake, and there were no nightmares afterwards.

Dean wouldn’t exactly call it punishment that he made Sam go with him to the morgue after the police scanner announced a new death.

At least it wasn’t in his conscious mind to make it that way.

So far, all the deaths had flown under the radar because they seemed normal, but this one pinged funny with the authorities, so they found themselves standing in the sterile and cold room in their suits as Sam shifted from foot to foot.

“But it wasn’t the bite that killed her.” The coroner pulled back the sheet and Dean was greeted with the wrinkled face of Mrs. O’Malley. She wasn’t smiling indulgently anymore, and when the sheet went lower, Dean got a good view of her shoulder. The mark was odd. Flat and straight, no jagged edges or rips, and he was so entranced by it that he missed Sam’s reaction. Later, Dean would blame himself for that, but in the moment, all he knew was that he’d never seen a bite like this.

The weight hit him from behind, and Dean jerked and moved on reflex as he turned and caught Sam. His brother was shaking, face pale and unsure, and Dean managed to get him to the garbage can before he started to heave. All of his breakfast was lost, and then Dean maneuvered Sam out of the room and leaned him against the wall before going back into the cold storage room.

“Sorry. He’s new. Corpse, you know?”

The coroner nodded thoughtfully and then pulled the sheet back up.

“Far as I can tell, it was normal heart failure. The bite is just odd, though. We’re sending pictures of it on to Fish and Wildlife, but I don’t know if they’ll have any idea either. Damage was so minimal that if it wasn’t fresh I don’t think we would have paid it much attention.”

Dean nodded, asked for a copy of the report, and then headed back into the hallway to collect Sam. They made their way up to the car slowly, and Sam dropped heavily into the passenger seat and leaned his head against the window. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

He bit his lip before he put the car in drive and headed back for the motel. “Sam, if you can’t do this, that’s fine. It’s no big deal. We’ll get you back to your-“

“Dean.” The flat and hopeless sound of Sam’s voice sent chills through Dean’s system. “Stop.”

And he stopped. They didn’t talk about it all the way back, or when Dean got Sam into bed, and as he headed back for the door it was some perverse self-hatred that finally got his mouth moving.

“Sam, this is a bump, okay? It’s just a little bump, and we’re gonna get over it. We’re gonna fix it the way we always do.”

His brother’s head didn’t move, eyes closed and skin pale and ashy, but his hand lifted for half a second before collapsing back onto the bedspread. “Okay. I’ll be better.”

That hurt more than Dean was prepared for. He turned and stepped back into the room, prepared to tell Sam that he didn’t need to be better, he just needed to get better, but the crash cut him off.

---

Lousy towels and bad water pressure aside, the motel manager was so apologetic about almost running Dean over with his car that he paid for them to stay in the nicer motel across town. The man swore he didn’t know what happened, that his vision just kind of grayed out, and then next thing he knew, he’d parked his car in the front of Sam and Dean’s room roughly a foot away from Dean. Dean was still picking splinters of glass and wood out of his skin.

Sam couldn’t stop shaking, and it was that point of worry Dean focused on. He spent an hour talking his brother down, speaking slowly and softly, and when Blondie’s “One Way or Another” greeted them on the radio as they pulled out of the parking lot, Sam blanched and hit ineffectually at the knob before finally managing to shut it off.

They got settled into the new room before Sam turned and looked at Dean. He was pale, frightened, and all Dean wanted to do was bundle him up and hide him from the world. What the fuck was he thinking, bringing Sam into another hunt? His brother wasn’t up for this shit anymore. It was a conversation, or maybe an argument, he’d had with Cas, but Dean recognized his own hesitance to let Sam go.

It had been great, the three of them holed up in that cabin like some kind of family, but it couldn’t last. Eventually Cas would get tired of playing human and leave, and then it would just be Sam and Dean again. When that happened, Dean knew he’d revert to his old habits, and Sam needed to be ready for that. His little brother couldn’t be on his own.

“Dean?” He turned and found Sam staring in his direction. His brother still looked bad, shaken and unsure, but not as bad, which he counted as something of a win. “I think - I think we need to talk about this.”

He wanted to say no. Wanted to get up and leave, but Sam was so raw right now that the action would only make things worse. “Sam, what Cas and I have is-“

“Really special, but that’s not what I’m getting at.” Sam’s mouth pursed for half a second and then he nodded as if finishing a debate. “We need to talk about your stalker.”

For a long moment, Dean waited for Sam to laugh and say he was kidding. When it didn’t happen, he half-stood and clenched his fists. “What?”

“Your stalker, Dean. The music, the note, the cologne? The car trying to take you out? That stalker?”

Dean’s head shook before the gears that ran his mouth found traction. “Sam, the car was an accident, man. The rest of that is-“

“It’s not Cas.” Sam finally made full eye contact. “He’s not doing it.”

“Yeah, he’s – look, you guys had that talk about mix tapes and he’s just going off what he knows. The guy is socially awkward, Sam, and he thinks he-“

“If you say he thinks he loves you like you don’t love him back, I’ll kick your ass.” It was the closest to his old self Sam had ever been, and Dean was simultaneously grateful and annoyed. “I know you’ve got issues and that you’re not ready to say it’s more, but Cas isn’t doing this. If he was, he would have said something by now. You know that.”

And Dean did know that. He knew that Cas wasn’t subtle, wasn’t covert, and that this sort of behavior didn’t fit him. Which meant Dean had wanted it to, so bad he’d fooled himself into ignoring the signs. Luckily for both of them Sam didn’t have that same level of denial.

“You think whoever is doing this almost used the motel owner to Christine me?”

“Dean, the car would have had to be empty for that to-“ Sam rubbed at his face and then leaned back. “Yes. I think so. Did you hear the song when we came here?”

“Sam, it’s a classic rock station, and Blondie-“

“Except it wasn’t.” Sam’s eyes were red-rimmed when he looked back up. “It never is anymore. I’ve been setting it to talk radio every time we get out.”

How many times had Dean gotten into the car and heard some other rock song? How many times had he thought it was nothing and ignored the possibility that something was going on in favor of some twisted fantasy of Cas being a secret admirer?

Whatever it was that had taken a fancy to him, it was thorough, persistent, and apparently pissed. More importantly, it was messing with his baby and his brother. It had been able to come into their home without being detected and that was just a bit too much.

“Okay. We finish the case and then we figure out who my stalker is.”

---

“Sam has informed me that you have encountered a Glenn Close.”

Dean practically jumped out of his skin before spinning around to find Cas standing roughly six inches behind him.

“For the last time, Castiel, we-“

“I am afraid I will need to ignore your insistence on personal space for the time being. Sam has given me the basic outline of the situation, but I do not believe he knows everything. Will you tell me all of it?” The question had an undertone that suggested it was less of a request and more of a command.

Something suicidal sparked up in Dean, and he grabbed Cas and pulled him towards a storage closet. This was really ruining his stakeout, and more importantly, why was the angel letting himself be pulled if he still had that look on his face?

“I got something out there luring senior citizens to their kinda timely deaths, and cars trying to run me over, Cas. My plate’s a little full, so unless you know what stops hearts and occasionally bites without teeth, I gotta focus right now. You can play overprotective later, okay?”

The angel’s lips pursed, and it was almost a Sam-worthy expression. “Dean. I wish you would have done this the easy way.”

“Yeah, well, when have I-“ His voice was cut off by the touch of Cas’s fingers, and then the intrusion into his mind. Dean watched the flow of events play out for Cas. The music, the notes, the cologne, and then eventually, the conversation with Sam that ended when a car almost plunged into him. When it was over, Castiel pulled back, and Dean took deep and even breaths and stared into a middle distance.

“Dean, I believe I know who is-“

“Get the fuck away from me.” In keeping with the plethora of emotions Cas had been showing, there was a tiny jerk to his lips that suggested hurt on a level Dean wasn’t prepared to handle right then. He was decidedly uninterested in Castiel’s feelings.

“Dean, it was-“

“Get. Away. From. Me. Now, Cas. No more talking and no more explanations.” Ice filled his veins and swept out the lingering heat from Castiel’s touch and the intrusion. It made it easy to focus. Easy to let go of the need to hide from Cas’s gaze now that the angel knew that Dean Winchester, the former ultimate ladies’ man, was stupid in love with him. That this stupidity had led Dean to not only think Cas returned his feelings, but was trying to tell him in the most human way he could.

He didn’t need the little flash of pity or understanding, he didn’t want to be able to read Castiel’s face, and he didn’t want to be here any longer than he had to be. Dean pulled back and stepped through the supply closet door, leaving the angel behind.

Then he heard Sam.

---

In retrospect, Dean probably should have thought about the fact that Sam was off his game and seriously shaken. He shouldn’t have left his brother wandering the halls of a potentially dangerous environment while he floundered his way into yet another embarrassing conversation with…

He should have been more careful with Sam. All of that went by the wayside when he arrived on the scene to find Sam staring at what appeared to be a giant cross between a deer and a hyena. The thing pulled its lips back, revealing a ridge of bone in place of teeth, and then in a voice Dean knew all too well, it cried out his name.

Dean was already stepping in front of Sam when Cas appeared in between them and ran the monster through. There was a thick choking noise, the beast went limp, and then the angel withdrew his sword and stepped back quietly.

For a moment, the three of them sat there with nothing being said and no one moving. It was Sam that broke the silence by shakily pulling himself up and approaching the angel.

“Cas I - thanks man. Thanks.” His brother’s big hand landed on Cas’s shoulder, and Dean didn’t miss the way the angel eyed the bloody bite in Sam’s shoulder before brushing his fingers along it.

Then Cas was staring speculatively just past Dean. The angel’s eyes narrowed, and then he was gone without a word even as Sam had just opened his mouth to speak again.

Before Sam could get his bearings Dean reached out and pulled him forward. “We gotta get rid of this thing and then we’re gone. Too much dust kicked up.”

Sam nodded and then as they lifted the giant monster, his brother caught his eyes. “Hey, Dean? Was Cas okay? He seemed off.”

“He’s fine. Wanted to talk about the stalker.” Dean was still too angry with himself to really think about the whole thing. His brother seemed to notice that, and then ignore it.

“Did you guys talk about your-“

“Sam, you say relationship and I’ll knock you out, put you in a dress, and leave you at a high school prom where you belong.”

His brother didn’t talk again until after they’d settled back into the motel room, and then it was only to ask about dinner.

Sam spent the meal tapping on his keyboard, and eventually Dean couldn’t take it anymore. “What, Sam? What now?”

Eyes narrowed and then triumph overcame his little brother’s features. He turned the laptop towards Dean and pointed at the hand-drawn image there. “The Greeks called it a Corocotta. It would lure travelers in with the voices of their loved ones and then kill them.”

Dean released a sigh and collapsed onto the bed. “How the hell did it get here?”

“I don’t-“ Sam frowned before he looked over their case notes. “I don’t know. A lot of speculation states that it was a traveler’s misidentification of a hyena. They’re typically labeled as scavengers so it may have been attracted because of all the death, but then why hasn’t this come up before at other nursing homes?”

All the death. Something nagged at the back of his head. A warning bell that Dean worked hard to ignore so he could give in and rest.

---
Now

They’d just settled down in the new motel three towns away, and Dean was honestly just about ready to logically discuss the situation in front of them. It was really falling into line, and then there was the flutter of wings and Cas collapsing into Sam’s arms.

Dean doesn’t remember the next fifteen or so minutes. He comes back to himself with his hands putting pressure against Cas’s wound and his mouth moving without his higher brain leading it. “Cas, you gotta hold on for me, man. Tell me what to do. Just tell me what to do, please.” There’s a hysterical edge he can hear to his own voice, and Sam is digging through the dumped contents of the first aid kit and muttering to himself.

It’s Sam that pushes him away enough to dump the clotting powder into Castiel’s wound. Sam led him back just enough to sit down against the opposite bed, and then Sam went back to the prone angel and checked his pulse before studying the gash in his chest.

“It’s deep, Dean. Bad. I don’t - he shouldn’t be so shaken by it.” Sam keeps looking it over before his eyes lock on Dean’s. There was Sam, the one he knew so well, taking over despite the shake in his hands. “You said Cas was talking to you about your stalker. What’d he say?”

He swallows once, thick terror clawing at his throat as his eyes keep straying to the shallow hitches of Cas’s cut open chest, and then he gets a tight grip on it. “That he thought he knew who it was. He had this-oh shit Sammy the stuff I said to him. I was a real-“

“Son of a bitch, yeah Dean, I bet. Focus. He had what?” Sam puts pressure on the wound again before turning back to Dean.

“A look. He was looking over my shoulder. Kinda accusatory maybe, or sure. I dunno.” Something was itching in the back of Dean’s brain. Something he should remember.

“Was it in the direction of the monster or something else? Was there someone there?” Sam reaches for the sheet under Castiel and pulls it enough to rip off strips and use them to tie the shirt firmly over the gash.

“No it-“ She has been watching you. “Tessa. It was Tessa.” All the death.

Sam’s eyes narrow and then widen. “The reaper? Tessa the reaper was there?”

Of course she was. Because no one had been there, and that meant someone Dean couldn’t see. But Cas could see her. Had spotted her from a mile off, and Dean had been so flippant about it that it hadn’t even seemed to matter. He’d forgotten she was there. He remembers the interactions he’s had with her, and it all starts to make sense. Ever since that first time when she made sure she was something attractive and seductive to him.

He remembers something else too.

“We gotta get her, Sammy. Find out what she did and how she can fix it. I think I know how to get to her.”

His little brother stands up then and looks around the room. “I don’t think - she won’t reverse it, Dean. She’s been following classic stalker behavior, and Cas is a barrier between the two of you. She’s probably seen you guys together and noticed-“

Sam broke off as if in deference to Dean’s feelings, but if this has gone this far, it’s past time to just be honest.

“That I love him.” It came out, and nothing bad happened other than Cas continuing to slowly bleed out in front of him.

“So you go after her, and I’ll see if I can’t fix Cas.” Sam has that determined look on his face again, and usually that scares the shit out of Dean. Right at this moment though? That look gives him more courage than he could have imagined. He stands and crosses the room before dropping his hand to Sam’s shoulder.

“Be careful, Sam.”

“Kill the bitch. Cas is my friend too.”

Dean appreciates the lack of past tense.

---

He knows everything both Sam and Cas think about him. A lot of it is true. Dean’s not emotionally available on the best of days, and that makes for a fairly hard shell to crack. He’s not one to get attached easily, and then when it hits him it hits him way too hard. He sold his soul for Sam, and now he’s drugged himself and stepped into the dream Tessa created for him in an attempt to lure him to his death.

The first time they met, Dean had been in so far over his head he may as well have been trying to defuse a nuclear bomb. Sam and dad injured, Dean lingering in between death and life, and there was this pretty and vulnerable girl that needed him. There’d been an attraction, a connection Dean couldn’t deny, but it had seemed deeper than it should have been. After the big reveal, Dean had finally understood why.

Death is a very real thing in his life. Has been since he was four and death came crashing into his home and changed everything. There’s a seductive quality to it for Dean, because it’s familiar, and it offers the only logical way he knows to finally lay down his arms and quit the fight. He thinks maybe that’s what Tessa saw in him, and that she took it for something personal. That she thought Dean’s wired response to the promise of finality and peace was a mutual attraction.

Dad taught them that people can be more dangerous than monsters, and Dean’s seen that play out more than once. He knows the steps to stalking, the simple and natural evolution that begins with a manufactured relationship, and then escalates until it is so out of control there’s no stopping it without violence. What did Tessa think when Dean swept in and saved her? Was it personal, or did Dean just promote himself from attractive pain in the ass to knight in shining white armor?

Either way, Tessa was sharp, clever, and she’d seen what was building between him and Cas. He wonders if Cas managed to get a hit or two in before she sliced him. Wonders what she cut the angel with.

All of it goes through his mind as he makes his way up the path towards the run-down house. It’s not pretty anymore, and he remembers vaguely seeing it this way once or twice, but the gingerbread version is what always stuck with him. How many nights has Tessa invaded his headspace? How many times has he come here only to be stopped from succumbing to death by the memory of Cas and what he feels for him?

Dean hopes, for just a second in the part of him still allowed to feel hope, that Cas will be ok. That Sam will tell him all the things that Dean never did. Sure, maybe the angel doesn’t feel that way for him, but the guy deserves to know.

The stairs shake under his boots, and one gives halfway even as Dean steps up onto the rickety porch. The red door is in front of him, and his hand brushes the freezing cold knob before settling fully onto the metal. This is it. Death lies behind that door.

He pushes it open and then steps through into the house that has haunted his nightmares for so long. Ready to face the peace he thought he wanted, and now simply wants to destroy.

---

She’s just as pretty as Dean remembers, and that’s the prelude to the rest of it. There’s a madness in her dark eyes that wasn’t there before, or that he never noticed. A scythe rests on her knee, and she spins the handle idly as she studies him back. There’s blood on the blade, and Dean knows whose it is.

“Tessa.” He takes the chair across from her and watches as she lays the scythe down on the table and leans on her knees towards him.

“Dean. Are you mad at me?” She sounds hopeful, as if him being mad is the best outcome she can imagine.

“I didn’t know those things could kill angels. Hell, I didn’t know you had them. Seems sorta stereotypical.” He grins, and it comes so easy that it may as well be true. Tessa’s lips curl upwards in response.

“There’s that gallow’s humor I love so much. We don’t carry them, but this is a special one. Death’s own personal scythe. Saved for gods and angels. You won’t believe what I had to go through to get it.” The for you goes unspoken, and Dean is glad.

“You went to a lot of trouble to get me here. Now what are you gonna do with me?” He pushes up from the chair and she meets him halfway. Her hands slide to his hips, up around his waist, and settle on his lower back. Her lips press against his chin, and the skin there goes cold and then numb. He feels the fatigue setting in, the urgent need to sit down and rest.

“I’m going to take such good care of you, Dean. We can be together. You won’t subvert the natural order anymore and you won’t suffer. It’s going to be everything we both ever wanted.”

Dean turns them both and collapses into the chair she was sitting in. Tessa follows him down and rests on his lap with her arms around his neck and her lips slowly leaching the life out of him.

“Sounds awesome.” He puts one arm around her and rests the other on the table.

“That angel - he didn’t know, Dean. His love was selfish. He forced you to live in that world that doesn’t understand you. He promoted your deviant behavior. You can’t cheat death, Dean. No one can.”

Her cold lips brush against his and the arm he’s holding her with goes slack. He has to move slow, so slow so that she doesn’t catch on, but his time is running out so quickly.

“Even death can’t always get his way, sweetheart.”

Her laugh is sweet and angry. Totally insane.

“Her way today Dean. We can stay here, you know. I know you like this house. I built it to look like that one you stayed in after Sam came back. We’ll stay, and then I’ll go collect Sam, and you can keep him here too. We’ll be like his parents and we’ll be a family. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

His fingers brush the handle that looks like leather and feels like dried skin. He grips it weakly and then pulls, hooking her in the throat with the tip before arcing it deeper into the flesh. The look of betrayal on her face is gratifying. “Not with you.”

Tessa falls, a hard thunk onto the floor, and Dean is dragged down with her. His hands are numb, his body is slack, and he thinks he can hear that voice like wind somewhere off in the distance. He’s so tired, but he’s already asleep, and the last coherent thing he thinks is that death feels a lot like Cas’s lips pressed against his.


---

“Wake up, Winchester. I have better things to do than sit here and watch you sleep.”

Dean wakes up to the harsh voice, his ears ringing and feeling flooding back into his lips so fast and painful it’s like coming into warmth after hours in the cold. His muscles cramp painfully, and warm hands take his and soothe the pain out slow and gentle. He follows those hands up a length of tan sleeves, up a line of slightly rumpled collar, and along a familiar throat until he meets sharp blue eyes.

Cas is staring at him, intense as always, and completely unreadable for the first time in months. Dean’s eyes jerk to the right when a throat clears, and he sees Death standing across the room with his cane in one hand and a greasy bag in the other. Sam is standing beside him looking completely out of his element.

“What the hell happened?” His voice sounds croaky and it hurts coming out of his throat. Cas’s fingers release his and stroke along his Adam’s apple. The pain dissipates instantly, and Dean wonders if Cas should be throwing his weight around so much after nearly dying.

“One of my reapers decided to go rogue out of love for you. She stole my scythe, which you need to return to me, and then went after your boyfriend. Your brother summoned me here to fix the angel, and I just happened to be in time to fix you as well. Lucky you.”

Dean raises an eyebrow before Cas is standing from the bed and offering Death his scythe. Dean doesn’t remember bringing it back, but he must have. He doesn’t remember a lot of things it seems, because when did Sam learn how to summon Death?

“Try, for the love of everything, Dean, to not seduce my employees. They are apparently unable to cope with the emotion.” Death’s eyes narrow as they settle on Castiel for just a moment, and Dean feels his hackles rise. “And please, the next time you get into a love triangle, leave me out of it.”

With that, he’s gone, and it’s just the three of them left. Dean would like to make a joke, or try to brush off the tension, but it’s so thick he thinks he’s choking. Cas is alright. Standing there in front of him looking kind of angry and kind of cold, but alright.

“Cas, I-“ But the angel is gone. Now it’s just him and Sam. His brother looks wrecked, and Dean imagines what this has done to him.

“Thanks, Sam.” It’s hard to say around the lump in his throat. Cas is gone. Not a thank you or a fuck you, just gone without a word.

Sam reads him better than ever.

“Now who’s the best brother?” It’s shaky, weak, but it makes Dean laugh in a way he didn’t think he would again.

---

They’re in Minnesota, a successful Poltergeist hunt completed, and Dean is alone in the Impala. Sam opted to stay in the motel and sleep, but Dean is just too keyed up to do anything other than buy a bottle of Jack and head for an open field. The stars stretch out above him, and he drinks from the bottle and thinks about the next hunt. The next inevitable step to nowhere.

There’s a flutter of wings, and Dean turns to see Cas sitting in the passenger seat looking out at the night through the windshield. His left hand is extended, and a cassette tape is sitting in his fingers.

“A month ago Sam loaned me his music player so that I could find music to make you a mix tape. I am told that it is what someone does when they are in love with someone else. Unfortunately, in the process of applying the music to the tape, I realized that the structural integrity would not hold beyond one song. So-“

“Cas, how did you record the song on the tape?” Dean’s fingers brush Cas’s as he reaches for it, and he grips the plastic lightly before sliding it into the player and turning the car on so it’ll play.

“I used my Grace, of course. Sam said it would produce poor audio quality if I held his music player against the a stereo, and this seemed-“

“Shhh.” Cas’s mouth snaps shut at the sound, and he watches Dean carefully. In the glow of the dashboard, Dean can see the way he’s being studied, and he tries hard not to smile.

The song is not his usual. It lands easily in the more girly category of Sam’s music. There’s a lilting quality to it, soft and slow, and Dean reaches out and links his fingers with Cas’s. It’s easy, comfortable, and Dean likes it more than he thought he would.

“I am aware that no one calls me a restless soul who always skips town, but the rest of it applies to my feelings for you, Dean Winchester. I no longer feel at home in Heaven. That should result in a feeling of loss, but I think instead I feel as if I have gained something wonderful in having you. Your mistaken assumption that I feel nothing beyond physical attraction to you is unfortunate, but keeping with your normal-“

“Shut up, Cas.” Dean slides across the seat and twines his fingers into the angel’s thick, dark hair. Lips slide wetly against lips, and Dean tastes all the things he’s missed. His free hand reaches out effortlessly and hits the rewind button so that the song will start again. When he pulls back, Castiel’s eyes are dark, and his hands are already pulling Dean’s shirt up. “What’s the song?”

Wet lips move against the column of his throat. “It is called ‘Anchor’ by a young woman named Mindy-“ His voice stops when Dean moans at the tongue flicking against his collarbone. “Dean, I am afraid I do not care about the song right now.”

“Yeah. Me neither.” He pulls Cas back up to his mouth, and in a move that Cas rarely uses their clothes are gone with a simple thought. Dean’s hands can’t pick a spot. One flits restlessly against Cas’s hip as he pulls him closer, and the other moves along the length of the angel’s back as his fingers dig into the muscles there.

Dean’s already hard enough to hammer nails and the pre-come slick head of his cock slides against Cas’s length and then his hip while they rut against each other like horny teenagers. His breath comes in short and sharp pants, and he can’t get enough of the taste and feel of Castiel. This is real. This isn’t stress relief or casual fucking, this is something infinitely more dire and important.

“You almost died for me.” He thrusts up and eats the moan out of Cas’s mouth before his fingers find their target. His thumb circles Cas’s rim and the angel arches against it before Dean feels slick lube coating his fingers. The perks of sleeping with an angel, he guesses.

“You did the same.” Cas bites his ear lobe gently, and Dean moans and pushes his thumb past the initial resistance and into the tight channel.

“You made me a mix tape.” His thumb is joined by his middle finger, and he scissors them none too gently as Cas’s dick jerks against his abs.

“I will-“ Cas gasps when Dean replaces his fingers with the head of his cock and teases the hole. “I will make more if this is always the response.”

Tired of the teasing, Cas pushes back and down, and Dean is encased in the heat of him. He barks Cas’s name once before grabbing the angel’s hips and slowing the pace. This is about thank you, this is about love you, and he wants Cas to get that.

As if he’s reading his mind, and who knows, maybe he is, Cas slows down and meets Dean’s eyes. The intensity of that gaze hasn’t diminished since the first time Dean laid eyes on the angel in a barn in the middle of nowhere. He can read Castiel again, and he sees that love has been added. Affection and longing, a sense of belonging and ownership, and he hopes Cas can see all of that coming back from him.

They move together at a lazy pace, pleasure instead of orgasm for their destination, and Dean keeps one hand on Cas’s undulating hips and the other on the side of the angel’s face.

“Stay with us, Cas. Be family. Like you’re s’posed to be.”

He moans when Cas flexes around him, and the blue eyes close for a second before sweeping open and pinning Dean back against the seat.

“Yes.” It’s short, to the point, and Dean loves the word. Loves the whole fucking thing.

He takes Cas’s cock in the hand that was holding his hip unwilling to relinquish his hold on Castiel’s face. They stay like that for a long time, Dean jerking him to the rhythm of his slow thrusts and eyes locked together, and eventually Cas leans in and licks against his lips before crossing the last line. “I love you, Dean Winchester.”

Dean comes, murmuring, “Love you too.” He then slides out and awkwardly maneuvers the angel so he can suck as much of Cas’s cock as he can fit into his mouth. He eagerly takes everything Castiel has to give him.

---

Sam is riding in the back for once, stretched out as best he can be in the backseat and typing something into his laptop while they head for their cabin. Cas is beside him in the front with his hands in his lap and his eyes fixed on the road. How he pulls off slipping the tape into the stereo, Dean doesn’t know, but it’s smooth and impressive.

His little brother leans forward over the back of the bench seat and twists the volume knob to the right. “I love this song.”

Quiet, low enough that Sam doesn’t hear it but Cas certainly does, Dean says, “Me too.”

Comments

Love Songs for Stalkers - mixer: sailorhathor, author: dimeliora, artist: kymericl

[livejournal.livejournal.com]

User sailorhathor referenced to your post from Love Songs for Stalkers - mixer: sailorhathor, author: dimeliora, artist: kymericl (http://bigbang-mixup.livejournal.com/30521.html) saying: [...] and Part 2 [...]

[sailorhathor.livejournal.com]

Woohoo! We did it! :D

[dimeliora.livejournal.com]

We did indeed. :)

[bad-buttercup.livejournal.com]

Even though you don't ship Dean & Cas, you did a really nice job with this piece. I ship Destiel and Wincest, so this made me happy.

Really loved the relationship between Cas and Sam and always like to see our angel portrayed as the protective, caretaker type.

Thanks for sharing.

[dimeliora.livejournal.com]

I love Castiel, so spending a little time with him was a treat. I'm honestly totally down with Wincestiel, I'm weird, but I've just never been a straight Destiel person. I can see it and respect it though.

I'm so glad you liked it, and that I did the ship justice. I'm so inexperienced with it I was terrified I'd screw it up.

Thanks so much for reading and commenting!!

[ashtraythief.livejournal.com]

I don't know how I missed that you posted this, but seeing it in its fully glory makes me very happy that I could be a tiny part of it.

Well done, you!

[dimeliora.livejournal.com]

Tiny? Tenses. Your help with tenses was certainly not tiny. :)

Thanks again, because wow you helped whip this into shape!!

[ashtraythief.livejournal.com]

It was my pleasure :)

[sailorhathor.livejournal.com]

I just noticed that you're not linking to the mix masterpost. I could have sworn that you had, but I can't find the link anywhere. Can you do that for me, please? :)

http://spectral-eye.livejournal.com/77100.html

[dimeliora.livejournal.com]

I thought I had too. Fixed.

[sailorhathor.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

[dimeliora.livejournal.com]

Sam just puts up with so much. :) Thanks for reading and commenting, and I'm glad you liked it!

[sangueuk.livejournal.com]

I really enjoyed this, thanks! I love that a mix tape says "I love you" - so true!

[dimeliora.livejournal.com]

Thanks for reading and commenting! I'm so glad you liked it!

[kiray1991.livejournal.com]

Awww I really loved this. It's so sweet and somehow so caring. It felt weird for a long time till I finally got the point with Tessa and not Cas leaving the notes.


Really all my compliments :)

[dimeliora.livejournal.com]

I do enjoy the fake-out. :)

Thanks so much, and I'm glad you liked it!

[lucianwolf.livejournal.com]

I love this so much. Excellent characterization and great case!

[dimeliora.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much!

[sammichgirl]

Guess what today was? Rainy day! (truly, massive thunderstorms)

Ok, so you know I don't ship Destiel, but it's YOU. And again, I read amazed.

I really love that there was a true plot here. It wasn't just angel + hunter = obvious sex. There was build up and a monster hunt and a mystery and family with hurt/comfort and angst and tension and all good things we see in our show.

I think what I loved most was Sam in this story. He wasn't the focus, but he wasn't an appendage - he was a part of it all. That's very important to me personally as a reader.

The other thing I loved was the voices. They all stayed in character, which made for a very believable relationship to naturally occur. It wasn't forced or rushed or smashed together.

*applause applause* You stepped out of your comfort zone again and nailed a home run. So proud of you!

[dimeliora.livejournal.com]

I love you. So much. So, so much.

Shhhh. Let's bask in this moment that includes mental hugs.

[layne67.livejournal.com]

I really, really love this. Reading the summary, I was worried that this would be a dark story and that Cas was the stalker, but the first few paras were so good that I just had to read on, taking the chance that this was a dark, killer!Cas story. I'm so glad that it wasn't and wow, Tessa ... that was just so creepy and eerie and it could so happen that way in canon ( I wish!! ).

Thanks so much for this awesome story!

[dimeliora.livejournal.com]

This was my first, and so far only, Destiel fic, and I was so nervous about it! Thank you so much for reading and commenting!

Tessa always struck me as a very dark character, and I wish they'd done more with her. As for Cas, I loved how earnest he was, although that trait is certainly canon, and it was fun to have him here trying to be both romantic and protective when Dean wasn't exactly helping him do either. :D

Thanks again for reading and commenting!