Title: Genesis

Summary: Sequel to Empire. It's been two months since Dean discovered he was truly loved. He's finally got something all to himself, and the chance to keep it, just as long as Sam never… crap. Dean/Castiel, Sam/Ruby.

Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam/Ruby

Rating: R

A/N: Probably the final story in what I've come to call the "Chapter and Verse" 'verse (clever, no?). You should probably read the other ones first.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the show, though I might as well, with all the references to my fics I've seen on the darn thing!

Genesis

He waited for her. He would wait forever. For her, for the way she made him feel. Like he was something special, something pure. Not tainted. Worthy of love.

She promised not to leave. He wouldn't let her, would keep her bound to the body of the girl she'd found back when he'd needed someone, anyone to talk to.

The bathroom door opened and she appeared, brown hair shimmering in the dim motel lighting, dark eyes looking black as the night. Her thin lips curled into a smile as she sauntered over to the bed.

"Hey, Sammy."

He smiled back. "Ruby." He laid back, let her straddle him, her hair falling across her stolen face. "You look nice tonight."

She smirked. "As opposed to every other night?" She leaned forward before he could explain, before he could express the way he'd started to feel in Dean's absence, the need for familiarity, for comfort.

Her lips met his, her breath seeping into his mouth, and he let his eyes flutter shut. He hadn't known that he'd needed this, not until she'd shown him, until their first time together.

These were the moments when nothing mattered, when all the world went away and hurt didn't exist. He could let himself stop worrying, let his mind wander to happier times.

Dean had been back for nearly two months. It had been nearly two months since Sam had walked in on his brother and the so-called angel. Dean claimed to have let it go, but the damned thing still turned up from time to time with news of the coming apocalypse when Sam wasn't around. Those were the nights that Sammy rented out his own room and summoned Ruby, brought her to him, made the hurt go away.

Hell had changed his brother. It had made him desperate and sloppy and needy. It had made him do things that Sam knew went against Dean's very nature. His brother wasn't controlling like that. His brother was passive when it came to matters of family and the heart.

But things were slowly getting back to normal. Dean was getting back to normal. That was all Sam could ask for.

"Is that what you think?" Ruby asked, looming over him, hands wrapped around behind his neck, fisting in his long hair. She said she liked it that length, made it easier to move him, control him, make him moan for her.

"You readin' my mind?" he asked, not altogether certain that he disliked the notion. It would certainly add a new dimension to their relationship.

She smiled, her eyes going black, and he barely suppressed a shudder. "All I'm saying," she whispered, "is that you might not be the only one fucking around behind your brother's back."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," she said, her voice soft and deadly, her lips centimeters from his ear, hot breath blowing over his shaggy hair, "he's doing exactly what we are, just the opposite." She leaned back again, eyes searching his face, appraising him, waiting for him to get it. Those dark, deep, oily eyes.

And suddenly, he knew exactly what she was saying.

He shoved Ruby off his body and leapt from the bed, barely taking the time to struggle back into his jeans before running out the door and to the car he'd borrowed for the night.

-.-

"You're beautiful."

Horrible, blasphemous things. He was used to horrible, blasphemous things. This was somehow worse. Worse because it wasn't just a screech of raw emotion, of need and want and hunger. It was a lie. It was a lie that was supposedly unable to be told, and that was what worried him.

"You're worthy."

Hand around him, gripping, pulling, feeling so good. A slight push in the back of his head, and he was worried about something else for half a second, worried that maybe his secret doubts had been revealed.

"Amazing."

Warm breath puffed onto his chest and he lost all conscious train of thought. There was no more wondering about where Sam was and when he might be back, no more thoughts of tests and falling and secrets and lies. There were only two bodies in a bed.

"I love you."

That one would never get old. It was better than any proclamation of size, any sleazy phrase he'd ever heard uttered so close to the edge.

"I will never leave you."

Whispered in his ear with one final pull and he was done. They both were. Like the angel got off on him getting off. On him being happy, blissed out, finally feeling like he belonged. And hey, for all Dean knew, maybe he did. Guy was kind of a freak.

The two bodies disentangled, rolling away from each other but staying close enough to touch, skin-on-skin, brand-on-perfection. Dean turned his head to look at his companion. "So, these Seals…"

Cass let out an exasperated sigh. "Shut up."

And that was a new one. "Well, look who's been paying attention when I talk."

"You corrupt absolutely."

It was still weird, seeing the angel smile. Almost like the expression didn't fit, like he was supposed to be serious at all times, and Dean had loosened him up, had changed him, had corrupted him. Like Dean had taken him and tainted him and then let him go. And like a dog that's been kicked, he just came back for more. Not that anyone was complaining.

The hunter opened his mouth, ready with a comeback, but was cut off as Castiel sat up, body stiff and rigid.

"What is it?" Dean asked. He pushed himself up until he was sitting, eyes wide, scanning the darkness for any sign of a threat. There was nothing, only the still silence and flickering shadows as a car drove by outside.

"I need to leave," Castiel said. "Now."

He started to get up, but Dean grabbed his wrist. "No." His eyes flickered to the empty bed, Sam's bed. He wasn't spending the night alone. Not after hearing those lustful promises not even five minutes before. He pulled the angel back down beside him, wrapping an arm around his waist. "Stay."

"You-"

The sound of a key in the door, of tumblers falling back, of wood scraping against wood. And then the door was open and Sam was standing there, staring at them, his eyes wide and angry, mouth drawn into a thin line, jeans hanging loose and unfastened around his hips, and Dean barely had time to wonder why that was before his brother started yelling.

"What the Hell, Dean?"

"Funny you should mention Hell," the older man muttered, his arm slipping from its spot around Castiel's waist, hand sliding to the bed, fingers splayed. The angel's hand was on the small of his back in an instant, offering what little comfort he could out of Sam's line of sight.

"Don't be cute with me, Dean."

"I'm cute with everyone."

Sam's face curved down into a snarl. "Tell me the truth."

"It's complicated," Dean said slowly, his eyes falling to the ground as his brother slammed the door and properly entered the room.

"It's not complicated," Sam ground out. "It seems pretty simple from where I'm standing. I told you to let him go, and you didn't. I can't believe you could do this to someone. There's a person in there, there's a guy-"

"Thomas is dead," Cass interjected, "and Dean has done nothing wrong. He let me go."

Sam snorted. "Yeah, right. Then why are you still here?"

"Because I love him."

The psychic rolled his eyes. "You don't love him. You just do what he tells you, think what he tells you, feel what he tells you." He crossed the room and began throwing things into his backpack. "I don't want to have anything to do with it."

Dean found his voice, brought it crashing through the shock and fear that came with being discovered after two very sneaky months. "He's telling the truth. I let him go."

"You be quiet," Sam commanded.

"Don't leave." The hand on his back fisted, fingernails dragging lightly across tanned skin in response to the shake in his voice. He shuddered. "Please."

"I gave you a choice, Dean," the younger man reminded him. "You've obviously made it." He zipped up his backpack and was gone, the door slamming shut behind him.

Hunter and angel sat in silence for a moment, both staring at the door. Outside the room, the Impala's engine growled to life. Neither of them had seen Sam swipe the keys, but it didn't matter.

"He's gone," Dean whispered. "He's really gone."

"I'll get him back," Castiel promised, brushing his hand up Dean's back and sending him down into a dreamless sleep.

-.-

Sam was sitting in a park, at the bottom of the slide, his knees sticking up by his chin, face turned up into the cool night wind. That was the second time he'd walked in on his brother and the thing that claimed to have been sent from God. There was nothing holy about what they'd been doing.

He stared up at the sky and sighed. He'd been willing to overlook it the first time, had been willing to let it slide. Dean was back. That was all that mattered. Dean was back, and he was safe and he was whole and he was not in Hell. Gay, apparently, but not in Hell. Sam was willing to drop it.

Dean hadn't dropped it. Dean had gone behind his back, had done a very un-Dean-like thing, and now Sam was doubting if his brother had really come back whole. He seemed fine in every other way, but…

A soft rustling reached his ears and he was immediately on alert. His whole body stiffened, eyes scanning the shadowy playground for any hints of a threat. What he saw was somehow worse than what he'd been expecting.

"What are you doing here?" Sam grunted, letting himself relax a bit as the angel walked across the park to stand beside him. He was dressed again, wearing what appeared to be one of Dean's old shirts and a pair of jeans that had probably once belonged to him as well.

"I came to talk to you," he replied, as if Sam were an idiot for not realizing that sooner. The tone of voice was surprisingly Dean and only managed to make the mortal's rage flare.

"Really? You wanna talk to me? Get tired of letting Dean in on the secrets of the universe?"

Castiel sighed. "If I had appeared to both of you to divulge the information I was given, how would you have reacted?"

"Every time you get something new," Sam said, ignoring the question, "every time you have news for him, that's what you end up doing, isn't it? Fucking each others' brains out in my motel room?"

He could have sworn the thing smirked at him, but the expression was gone in an instant. "Business before pleasure."

Sam scowled, standing up. He wanted to be on a level field with this thing, wanted to look it in the eyes when he made his accusations. "You're using him."

"I'm doing no such thing."

"Like Hell. You tell him to stop the Apocalypse and then you feed him some crap line about love and togetherness and it makes me sick. He might be dumb enough to fall for it, but I won't."

Something dangerous flashed in the angel's eyes, but Sam chose to ignore it. "I would never lie to your brother, Sam. I'm not using him. He has free will."

"Just like you, right?"

"Exactly."

"Then tell me something. Just how did that come about? Because I'm still a little shady on the details here."

Castiel glared at him, as if daring him to pry more. "He raped me."

Sam sat back down. It wasn't a graceful act, and if he'd been watching from the outside of the conversation, he probably would have called it more of a fall. Either way, his ass was back on the slide and he was looking up at the angel with wide, unbelieving eyes. "No."

"It wasn't his fault."

"He wouldn't-"

"It was mine."

"How?"

The angel sighed, running a hand through his ruffled hair. "I kissed him."

"You started it?"

"I had to show him God's love. I had to make him understand." He sighed again, shifting his gaze to his feet. "It was too much for him. I underestimated how long he'd been out in the cold."

"So he raped you?"

Cass shook his head. "He created a diversion. He's far from stupid, Sam. You just never took the time to notice."

"So, what?" Sam asked. "You kiss him and he rapes you and then you live happily ever after in love? That doesn't happen in the real world. It's sick and perverted and wrong."

"It is… more complicated than that," the angel said. "There's a verse at the end of the twenty-second chapter of Deuteronomy that outlines the retribution for a crime like your brother's. It states that the victim belongs to the person who commits the act."

Sam shook his head. "You can't take every word in the Bible literally."

"Try and stop me."

The hunter sighed. "So you belonged to him, and he used you, and that's where I come in. Doesn't make it right."

"The whole ordeal was ordained."

"Why?" Sam asked. "Because there was a verse about it in the Bible? Hate to break it to you, Cass, but that's one of the ways they justified slavery." He caught the odd look the angel was giving him. "Like, actual slavery. Whips and chains and plantations. Bad stuff."

"I know what you're referring to. I cannot be held responsible for the actions of a few selfish mortals. I was given my information from higher up than a Book." He paused, appraising Sam with those sharp eyes, eyes that looked into his soul. "Only Dean can call me that."

Sam dropped his eyes again, unnerved. "Fine. Only Dean. That still doesn't justify what he's doing."

"He's not doing anything anymore. He let me go."

"Kind of hard to believe."

"Why?" the angel asked. "Why is it so hard to believe that someone would be capable of loving your brother for more than one night? Do you really think that little of him? Do you really sit there and ask me these things and wonder why he did the things he did in search of love? I thought you were supposed to be the intelligent one, Sam."

Eyes still down, Sam didn't answered, just rubbed at the back of his neck.

"I love him," Castiel continued, "because of what he's done. He's proven himself faithful beyond all doubt. Beyond all reason, even. He gave up his own happiness so that you wouldn't leave, and he let me go. And yet here we are. Why is that, Sam?"

"You left him, too, if you're here."

"He's sleeping."

The hunter finally looked back up. "Still doesn't make it right. Still doesn't change what he did or the fact that he got rewarded for it. And, come to think of it, what does the guy you're riding around in think about all of this?"

"I told you," Castiel said. "He's dead. Dean already asked." He cocked his head to one side, inspecting Sam with those deep eyes again. "Now you tell me. What's Ruby's excuse?"

So, part 2 tomorrow?