The television show "Supernatural" is copyrighted by Warner Brothers Entertainment, Inc.

Author's Note: Although I like to think that this story has socially redeeming value, there's no question that it includes male-male sex, spanking, and a threesome. If you're horrified by such things, go no further. On the other hand, if you're horrified by such things, why did you filter for the "M" rating? Ah, go on ahead. This is nothing you haven't read already.

.

We're going to have to kill him.

The thought paralyzed Dean, closed his throat.

"I'm not an angel anymore," Castiel had said, after he had easily removed the angel-killing sword with which Sam had attacked him. "I'm your new God – a better one. So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your lord, or I shall destroy you."

Sam's attack had been so sudden, and its futility so quickly obvious, that Dean hadn't had a chance to react. But now he had to consider how to destroy Castiel. Cas, the angel who had pulled Dean from Hell, been heartbroken in his patient search for God, who had been isolated and injured in his struggles for humanity's benefit, was now standing before them filled with the power of uncountable Purgatory souls, deluded and insane.

"Cas – Lord Castiel – please. Please listen to me," Sam said. "I know what it's like, taking that power into you, and you think you'll be able to save the world with it, but remember – "

There was a literal flash in Castiel's eyes as he whipped his head around to stare at Sam. "Are you comparing my transcendent holiness with your filthy and depraved addiction to demonic blood?"

Sam crashed to his knees. For a moment he was silent, his eyes wide. Then he yelled in pain, lurched forward, and was yanked upright again. He gave another scream of pain, clenching his fists, swaying back and forth as if held upright on his knees by a string at the back of his neck.

Bobby ran to him. Dean turned to Castiel. "Cas, please – please – He didn't understand, he's just human, please forgive him!"

Sam collapsed, no longer screaming, wrapping his arms around his chest and gut, breathing heavily.

"I realize that, Dean," Castiel said quietly. "I am a forgiving God. But blasphemy must be punished. My Father allowed blasphemers far too much latitude, and where is He now?"

"Sam, you OK?" Dean asked.

"Of course he is," Castiel said. "I am making an example of him. Your new God punishes, but also he rewards."

Sam went completely still.

"Sam!" And Dean joined Bobby on the young man's other side.

Sam was staring up at them, his eyes wide again, but now there was a beginning smile on his face. "Unbelievable," he said.

"Tell us what's goin' on, boy," Bobby said.

"Unbelievable," Sam said again, and sat up. He put one hand to his side with a flinch of pain that he clearly didn't notice.

"Sam, talk now!" Dean said.

Sam looked directly at both of them in turn. "Sorry. I just – I had to explore that for a moment. But it's – the wall, the wall protecting me from memories of Hell – it's back. It's solid. I can think about – that year." He closed his eyes spasmodically for a moment, then reopened them. "Not that I want to. But I can. I can remember my soul in Hell, I can remember walking around without a soul here, and it – " He paused, pondering. "It's a horrible bunch of memories. But that's all. I'm not lost in them. They're not going to make me insane."

He got back up to his knees, looked at Castiel, bowed his head. "Thank you. Thank you, Lord Castiel. This is – this is a great gift. I'm sorry I doubted you."

Bobby and Dean exchanged a quick look. Bobby, somewhat creakily, sank to his knees. "I'm sorry I doubted you too. Lord Castiel."

"Well, you know, I've spent a lot of time not believing in God," Dean said. He got to his knees also. "Who'd've thought I'd wind up knowing him personally."

Castiel beamed at them. "Unforced worship means more to me than anything," he said, and Dean deliberately did not look at Sam. "This is merely the beginning. After I have converted or destroyed all of Raphael's followers, I shall remake the Earth in my image. You will scarcely recognize – "

He looked at them with sudden anger. "There is disbelief. One of you is mocking me."

Light was in his eyes, and it was no mere flash: A bolt of it, bright yellow and black, streamed out of his eye. A shock wave strong enough to knock Bobby off his knees spread as the bolt of light dissipated, and Castiel grabbed his head with both hands. "Raphael! Raphael is here! He's here!"

"No, Lord Castiel." Sam's voice was even. "You destroyed him just now. Your justice was administered calmly and quickly."

Cas was still rubbing his temples as though he had a ferocious headache. "Yes. Yes, I remember."

Dean cleared his throat. "The mockery – that was me."

Sam and Bobby shot looks at him, then at each other, since Dean was looking only at Castiel.

"But I wasn't mocking you," Dean continued. "I was afraid that you were going to mock me."

Castiel took his hands from his head, instantly calm, looking at Dean with a gentle smile. "Why would I mock you, Dean?"

"Because – everything you have to do – and I wanted – I wanted your time. To be, to be alone. Together."

"You wish to worship me carnally," Castiel said, reaching to touch Dean's upturned face.

"I – Yes." Dean took a breath. "I love you."

Castiel tipped Dean's head back, and his eyes closed as he kissed Dean's mouth. Sam looked away. Bobby watched carefully, his eyes slightly narrowed.

Dean and Castiel disappeared.

"Damn it!" Sam leaped to his feet. "Damn!"

Bobby began getting to his feet. "OK," Sam said desperately. "We summon an angel. There's gotta be one or two left that Cas hasn't killed. We ask him where Cas might've taken Dean."

"Why?"

"Why? In case you weren't following, Bobby, an insane super-powered being who thinks he's God just took my brother away to rape him!"

"Well, that's one way of lookin' at it."

Through gritted teeth, "What's the other way?"

"The other way of lookin' at it is that your brother's doing something no one else could do. He's buyin' us time to fix this. Now we can spend that time figuring out how to get those souls back in Purgatory where they belong. Or we can spend it standing around waving our arms and screamin' for angels."

Sam took a deep breath. "Sorry. I freaked out."

"Understandable. Are you really – OK? The stuff that you said about your Hell memories – "

"All true. I can't shut it out totally, but well enough to concentrate on other stuff. I owe Cas big time. If he doesn't torture me anymore. Or, you know, kill Dean."

"He won't. Not much I'm sure of, but I'm sure o' that. We're gonna need to come up with a Purgatory opening spell. Did you bring your laptop?"

"Yes. I took one of your cars."

"That's good, there'll be supplies in it. The Impala's upside-down a half a block from here, but I think there's still some research in it, too. Let's find a motel room, angel-proof it the best we can, and start thinkin'."

"The Impala's upside down?"

"Damn tornadic wind. Raphael's way of making an entrance."

"Great," Sam said, as they headed for the door. "Something else for Dean to deal with. When we get him back."

.

It turns out that the nerve endings in your lips don't care whether the warm flesh gently stimulating them belongs to a man or a woman. A loving kiss is a loving kiss.

When Castiel pulled away, Dean opened his eyes to discover that they were someplace else completely.

It took him a moment to recognize the Beautiful Room. The size was the same, as was the delicate gold ornamentation on the walls, but the walls themselves were blood-red from floor to ceiling. The floor was black marble veined with white; the fireplace, of the same black marble, had grown from a modest baroque fixture to an eight-foot-high monstrosity that dominated one wall. In one corner was a huge canopy bed. The canopy and satin spread were both imperial purple.

Dean stood and turned slowly, wondering what a psychologist would say about the décor. All he let himself say was, "Wow."

"You are stunned," Castiel said cheerfully, behind him.

"I am." Dean finished his turn, taking it in. "Quite a – oh."

Castiel was nude, still giving him the same sweet smile.

For a moment Dean was shocked – because, really, Cas without the trench coat was a shocker, never mind this – and then he startled himself by chuckling. "Well, you – get right down to business."

"I've waited for this a long time," Castiel said gently. "You know that."

"No. No, it's, it's a surprise – "

"You cannot lie to me, Dean. You've known for some time that I desire you. Why is it so hard for you to admit that? And if you knew you loved me, why did you not tell me?"

"Well, Cas – I mean, Lord – "

"You do love me, don't you? You said as much. And your feelings – "

"I told the truth." Dean said it fast; he didn't know how deeply or specifically Castiel could get into his mind, and he didn't want to test it. "It's just – Cas – Lord Castiel – you're, you were, an angel. And you know what I am. What I've been. How could you – I mean, I figured even if you wanted me, I'd kind of – poison your soul."

Castiel caressed Dean's face, a little sadness in his eyes. "It would not have mattered when I was an angel, Dean. But as your god, yes, you're correct. We cannot be together until you are purified."

"Should I, uh, drink holy water? Maybe take a bath in it?"

"I believe that a ritual scourging is called for."

"Oh."

"Don't be afraid. I'll only need to do it once. Unless you should corrupt yourself again."

"Don't be afraid" irritated Dean a little, and he sucked in a breath. "OK, then. Let's get this over with and get to the good stuff."

Castiel nodded. "Disrobe."

He took off his jacket – and crap, where was the demon-killing knife? He couldn't feel its weight in the jacket – no, wait, it was OK, Bobby had it. He undid the buttons of his shirt – Don't fumble with them, Winchester, he'll think you're afraid. He pulled off his T-shirt and crouched to undo his boot laces – Damn, I'm going to have to get these things resoled again. He thought of anything at all that would keep him from being too aware of Castiel watching every move he made, looking over every inch of flesh he uncovered.

He dropped his boxers onto the heap and said, heartily and a little too loudly, "OK! So are we lookin' at a whip? A riding crop?"

Castiel smiled. "You are not a farm animal, Dean. I believe – "

He started toward Dean's clothing pile, stopped within inches of Dean's body with his eyes closed. He didn't do anything as obnoxious as sniff obviously, but it was clear that he was breathing in Dean's scent.

Looking at Castiel's bent head, the mass of black hair crowning his smooth pale neck, his naked shoulders and back, Dean felt his own breath speed up.

Then Castiel picked up Dean's jeans and slid the belt out of the denim loops. "I believe this will suffice."

Dean almost flinched, then almost laughed. One of Alastair's favorite tricks had been to delicately flay the skin off of Dean's penis and testicles, then heat a blade and drag it across the exposed nerve endings. He couldn't believe he was tensing up about getting hit with a belt. "OK."

Castiel looked around, focused on one of the bedposts. "Stand there."

Dean did, grabbing the post securely, but Castiel said, "No, raise your arms."

He did, grasping the finial where the bedpost met the canopy. "Like this?"

"Exactly," Castiel said, and Dean felt something snug around his wrists. He looked up. His wrists were bound to the bedpost and canopy frame with a thick white cord that felt like satin but restrained him like iron.

Castiel folded the belt and took a step backward, out of Dean's peripheral vision. Dean cleared his throat. "Careful of the kidneys."

"Dean." Castiel was both amused and reproachful. "Any damage that I do, I can repair."

There was a blow to his upper back that pushed him into the bedpost a bit. Then pain seared across his back at the same time that the second blow landed. "Ritual" or not, Cas was taking the scourging part seriously. Dean bit his lips and grunted as the third and fourth strokes landed.

He wasn't going to keep count, always a bad idea, and Cas clearly had a pattern in mind rather than a number: He worked with lateral strokes down Dean's back to just above the kidneys. Dean could tell exactly how far down the belt had gone and how much further it had to go, where his skin was burning and where it hadn't yet been whipped. Then the leather slashed across his thighs just above his knees. When the second slash to his legs came he reflexively tried to move them both, wound up in a stupid-feeling jump while his weight was thrown onto the cords binding him. Determinedly he planted his feet, clenched his jaw, and withstood the whipping moving up his legs, grunting only every second or third stroke.

He'd always thought the problem with bare-butt spanking would be humiliation, but the way this belt was laid on, pain warred with humiliation. His ass writhed as the burning blows fell – his mind determined to stand still, his body determined to get away. His arms wrenched at the cord; all he could think of was covering his ass with his hands, but it wasn't going to happen.

Then the lashing stopped, and he heard the belt slide to the floor. He unclenched his jaw and was about to say, "Is that all you got?" when a new sensation stopped him – a light touch cooling the burn of injured skin.

Castiel was kissing him, across his back, following the pattern of the strikes, and everywhere his lips touched, cooling relief from pain spread outward. Dean wanted to make a wisecrack but couldn't think of one. His arms relaxed – he hadn't realized how tense they'd been, pinched up on either side of his head – and fresh pain flooded those muscles.

But now Castiel was kissing his way across Dean's buttocks, and the sensation that shuddered his pelvis vied for attention with the pain in his arms. Apparently his dick didn't discriminate between a woman kissing his butt and a man doing it who'd just been beating him twenty seconds ago. Nice. An equal-opportunity cock.

"I'm relieving your pain," Castiel said in his ear, "but I'm going to let the redness heal itself. These stripes are precious to me." He kissed the center of Dean's back, and Dean shivered a little. "They show your willingness to mortify your flesh for me."

The binding around Dean's wrists was gone. He tried to bring down his arms as slowly as he could, but let out a little "Ow" anyway. Still standing behind Dean, Castiel kissed the muscles along his right upper arm and shoulder, across the back of his neck – and crap, no way that should feel so good, who was he, friggin' Morticia Addams? – ending with his left shoulder and a long intense kiss to the welted handprint on his left upper arm.

Castiel's right hand slid under Dean's right arm, fondled his stiffening cock, and ran up along his chest. Dean closed his eyes and swallowed, feeling Cas' chest and cock and hand and mouth all at once.

He turned his head, and opened his eyes just as Castiel lifted his face from Dean's arm. "Cas? Are you crying?"

"I had to do it." Castiel's voice was shaking. "We could not be together if you weren't purified, but – to cause you pain – "

"Cas, I mean, Lord Castiel – "

"Perhaps I should have refused you. Perhaps I should be alone – "

Another yellow-and-black bolt streamed out of his eye. Dean saw it building and dodged aside an instant before it leaped out and dissipated, rocking the Beautiful Room with another shock wave. A chunk of the marble fireplace's mantel thudded to the floor, shattering along the veins.

"OK, Lord Castiel, we have to talk about that. When that's happening, is that souls escaping?"

Castiel was pressing a hand to his head above his eye. "Yes. When I feel a soul escaping I destroy it, so that it will possess no one. Destroying one of these souls is – it has something of the effect of splitting an atom."

"So you're – basically you're full of fissionable material."

"Yes. But you need have no fear, Dean. I am meant to control the power of these souls, as their energy was meant for me. I realized that as soon as I had taken them into myself. Does it make sense to have all of that power languishing in Purgatory? Of course not. It was waiting for me, for the new God, to save and remake the Earth."

"But sometimes some of it flies out of your eye."

"Don't worry. As you would say, there's plenty more where that came from."

That was what worried Dean. Balthazar had warned them that the power Castiel wanted could take out a sizeable chunk of the planet if Castiel lost control over it. Whether it could actually do that much damage or not, clearly the damage would be devastating, and would apparently start with Castiel's head being ripped apart.

"It happens when you're upset." Dean gave a sideways smile, rested his elbows on Cas' shoulders, and brought his lips to within an inch of Castiel's. "So we're going to have to keep you happy."

Mission accomplished; Castiel gave a long contented sigh as Dean pressed his lips to Castiel's.

Dean pulled in a long shaking breath, enfolding Castiel warmly, and kissed him again, deeply.

Castiel grabbed Dean's hips and pushed their groins together hard. Dean made a sound low in his throat, tightened his arms around Castiel and kissed him again, his intensity growing with Cas' response.

Something weird was going on with his feet. Dean broke the kiss to look down, and realized that there was nothing underneath them. He and Castiel were suspended in mid-air.

"Whoa!" he said eloquently. "Hey!"

Castiel laughed as they turned and rolled slowly, parallel to the ceiling, holding and caressing each other.

Now something was going on with Dean's anus. For a moment he was afraid that he was having a very badly timed reaction to the beating. Then he realized what was happening: His muscles were relaxing, opening, and the moisture in there was the finest silky-smooth lubricant he'd ever felt.

Castiel floated back, taking Dean's legs, and Dean let Castiel position him as he liked. He felt Castiel's heat between his thighs, on his chest, the beginning nudges of Cas' cock inside him, warm breath on his neck. He closed his eyes at the intensity, opened them to see what was, in all this strangeness, familiar. Insane or not, the loving focused gaze turned on him was purely Castiel's.

Even with Lord Castiel's Miracle Prep there was some pain, but Castiel was happy to take his time, moaning in pleasure at each small insertion, his eyes half-closed but never fully losing sight of Dean. Dean had the most amazing feeling of belonging and ownership at once. His body racked with an intense sensation that went from deep inside him to his groin and clear out the top of his head. "Oh God, Cas, please, just more!"

He touched his stiff erection and his hand was taken away. He opened his eyes as Castiel, smiling, grasped Dean's forearms and forced them away from his body. He grinned back at Cas and made as if to struggle with him, letting Cas overpower him, move in him, leaving his own demanding cock unsatisfied.

Castiel began thrusting, murmuring, "You are one with divinity. I am one with humanity. You are one with divinity. I am one with humanity."

Dean responded with a rhythm of his own, tensing and relaxing the muscles clutching Cas' cock – and God it felt so good and God he wanted more –

Castiel came, shaking, clutching Dean's arms so hard they hurt, gasping, "Dean – wanted – " Then silence but for short light gasps that sounded like sobs.

He lay back on the air, Dean looking down at him, caressing Castiel's chest, still squeezing Cas inside of him.

The blue eyes opened over a smile. "Now, I believe you wanted some attention here?"

He touched the base of Dean's penis, rubbing the whole area gently, and it was so sensitive by now that Dean almost sent them spinning with a kick. "Oh. Yeah. Attention."

Castiel closed his hand around Dean's cock. An amazing warm energy began and, as Cas clasped and pulled, built, filling Dean's body. He'd never felt anything like it and something about Cas' triumphant smile sent him completely over the edge in spasms and an out-of-control yell.

When he opened his eyes he was in bed, panting, lying next to Castiel. The white sheets and purple satin spread were at the foot of the bed and Castiel was looking over Dean's body with pleased possessive eyes.

"Thought you were a virgin," Dean croaked.

"I've been observing people for thousands of years, Dean. Of course I've observed sexual activity, even if I haven't partaken and even if I had no special interest in it. Except – "

Dean gave him a knowing grin. "Except?"

"The last two years – since I knew how I felt about you – I admit to having observed men together. I wanted to know – "

He fell silent for a moment, swallowed. "I wished for something that could not be. This is very unusual among angels."

Dean closed his eyes, opened them. "I'm sorry, Cas."

Castiel smiled beatifically. "Don't be. Had we been together, you would certainly have prevented my working with Crowley to open Purgatory, and I would not now be God. All happens as it is meant to."

"Right," Dean said, and thought, When this is all over, remind me to stab myself in the gut.

And speaking of gut – "Does this place still have a bathroom?"

"Yes. The same as before – in the alcove with the sofa, press on the wall below the mirror."

He damn near drowsed off in the bathroom, and was looking forward to getting back in bed for heavy-duty sleep. Then, as he was washing his hands, a thought made his eyes open wide, staring at himself in the mirror.

He couldn't fall asleep and leave Castiel awake. God alone – wherever He was – knew what Cas might do left to his own devices. He might launch a one-man war on Heaven; he might decide to start remaking Earth in his image, and if it was anything like the way he'd remade the Beautiful Room, that should be avoided; or he might decide to check in on his other worshippers, Sam and Bobby, and discover them working to strip his power.

But at the same time, there was no way Dean was going to stay awake. He'd slept in the car for a couple of hours, at Bobby's insistence, on the way from Sioux Falls to Bootback, Kansas. Since then, he'd been in a car crash, been beaten, and had an unbelievable orgasm. There was no way he was going to stay conscious for more than another few minutes.

He thought for a moment, then went back to bed. On his way he looked up at a damp-looking, slightly darker red splotch on the red ceiling. "I thought so," he told Castiel. "I got semen on the ceiling. I can honestly say that's a first."

Castiel chuckled. He had a translucent globe floating over him and was spinning it, touching the oceans and continents, turning them different colors. Dean sincerely hoped this wasn't really happening.

He got into bed, pulled the sheet up over him, and touched Castiel's chest. "Lord Castiel, sleep with me."

"Isn't that the vernacular for what we just did?" Castiel asked, turning Africa periwinkle.

"I don't mean in the vernacular. I mean literally."

"I don't need to sleep, Dean."

"No, but I'm sure you can. You can do anything."

"True." Castiel made the globe disappear and turned to Dean. "But why is it important to you that I sleep?"

"Because I have to. I'm exhausted. And I'm afraid that – well, I'm human, Lord Castiel. I'm afraid that if I go unconscious, you won't be here when I wake up."

Castiel smiled. "If this is important to you, I will promise to be here when you awake."

"And maybe sleeping might stabilize the power in you – make it less likely to jump out of your eye. That came pretty close to me last time, and I don't want to be nervous about being close to you."

"And it hurts when that happens," Castiel said. "Perhaps you're right, Dean. Perhaps sleeping will stabilize my power."

He closed his eyes, his muscles visibly relaxed, and he was deeply asleep.

Dean raised his eyebrows. He kept his hand on Cas' chest, let his own eyes drift shut, and was asleep almost as fast.

.

The laptop was still open when Sam got back to the motel, but Bobby had abandoned it in favor of a pencil and legal pad. Sam put a six-pack of beer in the refrigerator as Bobby looked up. "Did you find a place?"

"Old empty farmhouse about 10 miles out of town. Looks like crap, but structurally pretty solid, with a good-size living room. The spray paint's in the car. I've got a couple cans each of black, white, red, purple, royal blue, pale blue, green, gold, and orange. Sound like enough?"

"It does."

Sam put a big bag of salt canisters on the nearest bed and pulled a pocketknife from his jeans. "How's the spell coming?"

"It would really have helped if I'd had the original spell. I heard enough to get the gist, and of course we'd need to make changes anyway, but it woulda helped. Anyway, the good news is, I figured out a way around the lunar eclipse."

Sam picked up one of the salt containers. "Great. What is it?"

"If we call for a reversal of the spell, with some fancy writing, maybe we can open Purgatory with the reverse of a lunar eclipse."

"A full moon."

"With luck."

Sam, about to stab the top of the salt container with his knife, paused. "The full moon's tonight."

Bobby shrugged. "We'd want to work fast anyway."

"Yeah. You said that's the good news?"

"The bad news is, I don't see any way around the blood. We've gotta have it."

Sam sighed, punched the canister, and began pouring salt along a window sill. "OK. I was thinking about this. I'm sure one or two creatures' souls escaped Purgatory without Cas eating them. We do research, just like we were looking for a demon, see who nearby here suddenly started acting bizarre, hunt them down and capture them."

"By tonight."

"Uh, yeah." Sam acknowledged the difficulty with a moue and moved to the next window.

"Still leaves us draining a virgin's blood."

"Well, not draining, Bobby. That was about a quart jar Cas had. If it had equal parts virgin blood and Purgatory-creature blood – "

"Eleanor's blood," Bobby said quietly.

Sam took a breath, nodded. "If it had equal parts of both, that's about a pint each – the size of a blood donation."

"But Eleanor – "

"I think," Sam said in measured tones, "I think her injuries were more due to torture than to the use of her blood."

Bobby, his lips tight, nodded.

"So we don't need to kill a virgin – which is good," Sam said dryly. "But we need to dupe or force someone into donating blood."

"Or find a virgin who'd be thrilled to make the contribution," said an unmistakable English-accented voice.