Hey look, I wrote a Supernatural fic! I have no plans to write any others, incidentally, but I just had to get this one out of my system, because I have serious issues when the show tries to corrupt Castiel. The more I think about it, the more it infuriates me that his virginity is played for laughs, and the less it makes sense that he would be embarrassed about it. So here's how I think that scene from "Free to Be You and Me" would have gone if it had been about logic instead of comic relief. Every single subsequent scene with that theme (such as Cas accidentally watching porn) wouldn't have happened if that one had been different.

Disclaimer: Nope. Not the Kripkeeper.

"Where've you been?" asked Dean irritably, having turned around to see Castiel standing matter-of-factly across the room from him, holding a large ceramic jar.

"Jerusalem."

"Oh, how was it?"

"Arid," said Castiel, as usual missing the sarcasm in Dean's tone and replying with completely undiluted honesty. Why Dean had ever thought Cas would make a remotely convincing fed, he had no idea.

"What's that?" said Dean, indicating the jar, which Castiel had placed on the table.

"Oil. Very special. Very rare," said Castiel as he sat down.

"Okay, so we trap Raphael with a nice vinaigrette?"

"No."

"So, this ritual of yours. When's it gotta go down?"

"Sunrise."

"Tell me something. You keep saying we're gonna trap this guy. Isn't that kinda like trapping a hurricane with a butterfly net?"

"No, it's harder."

"Do we have any chance of surviving this?" asked Dean. Castiel's very laconic answers to his questions were not inspiring much confidence in the plan.

"You do."

"So, odds are you're a dead man tomorrow."

"Yes." No fear, no resignation; it was just a fact.

"Wow," said Dean. "Well, last night on Earth. What, uh, what are your plans?"

"I thought I'd just sit here quietly."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Dude, come on. Anything? Booze? Women?"

The muscles in Castiel's jaw tightened, but he didn't reply.

Dean looked at him shrewdly, then began to smirk. "You have been with a woman before, right? Or an angel, at least?"

Still, Castiel said nothing.

A wiser man than Dean Winchester might have recognized this as a good time to back off, but Dean's smirk widened. "You mean to tell me you've never been up there doing a little cloud seeding?"

Slowly, Castiel stood, turned to face Dean, and fixed him with that piercing stare that never failed to make him feel like he was going to be struck by lightning any second. He repressed a gulp with difficulty.

"You are familiar, I assume, with the commandment 'thou shalt not commit adultery'?" said Castiel.

"Uh…," said Dean. Okay, it really wasn't right how a dude two inches shorter than him could seem to tower over him from immeasurable heights like that. What made it even worse was that Castiel had evidently forgotten his tip on personal space. He loomed at him from less than a foot away, and it was all Dean could do to meet his eyes and stand his ground when the more natural reaction would have been to cower and beg the angel not to smite him.

"I am an Angel of the Lord, Dean," said Castiel. His voice rang with authority, conviction, and no small amount of defiance. "I may have rebelled against my corrupt brethren in heaven, but I have not rebelled against God, nor have I forgotten who I am. This body is not mine. It belongs to James Novak, a good and faithful man whose love for his wife and daughter is second only to his love of God. If this truly is my last night on Earth, then I will most certainly not spend it in any manner that would make a mockery of the unconditional faith and trust this vessel placed in me when he sacrificed his entire existence to my mission. Twice. I will not use his body to violate the sacred vows he made with his wife. I will not disrespect one of my Father's precious creations by using her to achieve a moment of carnal satisfaction through iniquity. I have neither the right nor the inclination, and you will never broach this subject with me again."

Dean stood there in stunned silence. To say that he had never thought of it that way would have been the understatement of the year. Now that he was thinking of it that way, however, he felt like a gnat. A gnat who should have known better than to try to mess with an angel wearing a religious married guy about being a virgin.

Castiel sighed, giving Dean a brief and much-needed reprieve from that paralyzing, unwavering Judgment Day gaze. By the time he looked at him again, the angelic wrath in his eyes had mostly subsided, leaving behind his usual somber intensity. "Dean, I believe in your cause, and I am willing to die for it, again, if I have to. But do not ask me to abandon my principles or force my vessel to abandon his."

"Yeah. Sure, no problem," said Dean with a very pained and awkward grin. Wanting to offer an apology but somehow completely unable to articulate one, he cast desperately around for anything at all to say. "So, uh, sitting quietly, huh? Sounds…awesome."

I feel much better now.

Fun fact: the word count of this fic came to exactly 777 in the Word document.