Chapter 5

Disclaimer: see chapter one

Warnings: swearing, some innuendo, Dean/Cas UST

It didn't take long for the other royals to catch up to the two Princes but they hung back rather than joining the couple. Dean glanced back at his family, wondering why they weren't joining him and Castiel, only to see Sam wrap his wings around himself and shoot an exaggerated kissy face Dean's way. Dean scowled and extended his right wing, turning it to point the five spines along the bottom upward in a rude gesture.

"Dean!" Mary scolded. Sam only laughed, the bastard.

Castiel watched the exchange silently before spotting a familiar tree nearby. After discerning that Michael's attention was focused elsewhere Castiel let a wicked grin curve his lips before urging Chevy over to the tree and plucking several of the blue-skinned, apple-sized fruits. Rejoining Dean, the Angel called Sam over as well.

"Have you ever had a sticky fruit?" Castiel questioned. When both Demons shook their heads the Angel handed each of them one of the fruits, making sure to squeeze Dean's several times before passing it to his betrothed.

Dean frowned at the action, noticing that the Angel hadn't done that to Sam's fruit.

"Just hold it tightly," Castiel instructed, "And twist the stem off."

Dean did, glancing at the fruit in surprise when the hard core went liquid as soon as the stem was off. Castiel raised his fruit to his mouth and Dean found himself transfixed by the sight; Castiel's head tipped back, baring his long, pale throat to the light, plump lips tight against the skin of the fruit as he sucked out the juice and Dean had a sudden image of those same lips wrapped around his cock… Swallowing hard Dean raised his own fruit, his tongue dipping into the opening left by the removal of the stem to taste the sweet, green, somewhat gooey juice when, beside him, Sam's fruit suddenly exploded. Chevy, Impala, and Sam's Nightmare, Charger, all startled as the fruit Sam held blew up in his face, spattering the Demon with pulp.

"Castiel!" Michael shouted and the Angel Prince had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at his brother's tone.

"My apologies, Sam," he said to the stunned Demon Prince. "I must have forgotten to compress that one."

For several seconds Dean could do nothing but stare at his baby brother, covered head, shoulders, and parts of his wings, in ropes of sticky green goo. Sam slit open his eyes and blinked dumbly at Dean and Castiel and Dean could not help himself, he threw his head back and howled with laughter. Sam scowled, scraping a bit of the ooze off of his face and trying to fling it at his brother, except the stuff wouldn't let go. Instead of detaching and flying toward Dean the goo stretched out then bounced back to dangle off the ends of Sam's fingers. Behind Sam Dean could see his father and Crowley howling with laughter while Gabriel bent over his saddle, hugging his Sleipnir's neck to stay on its back. The Princess Jo was in much the same state and even his mother and Lady Jessica looked to be having trouble keeping straight faces at Sam's predicament.

"You look like a giant used you for a hanky!" Dean wheezed, clutching his middle.

Sam's retort was cut short as Michael's Sleipnir trotted up to them.

"I know where there's a stream close-by," the Angel King said. "And you can get cleaned up; you don't want to give it a chance to set. Castiel go into these when he was seven, it took us nearly a month to get all of the pulp out of his feathers."

Castiel glowered at his brother's mention of the story, that particular episode had been all Gabriel's fault, but he had to admit that he rather enjoyed the way his body warmed when Dean smiled at him, mirth dancing in his green eyes.

"That," the Demon proclaimed, "Was awesome."

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

Bela had rejoined the hunting party by the stream Michael led them to so Sam could wash off the pulp before disappearing into the underbrush again, two noses to the ground. Not long after, the area was ringing with her barking and snarling and the hissing of whatever she'd managed to corner. Dean charged into the trees, an arrow at the ready and Castiel right behind him but the rest of the party hung back; though they could accompany the couple on their pre-nuptial hunt tradition dictated that only the Princes could bring down the game, except in certain circumstances.

The two stumbled into a clearing after a few minutes of ducking branches and dodging exposed roots and tangled underbrush. Bela was barking excitedly, alternately lunging toward and jumping back from a large cockatrice she'd managed to track down.

Cockatrice were plentiful in Hell and, like most of the creatures of Dean's home-land, were a species of dragon. Roughly six feet tall, the cornered bird resembled a giant rooster, though its wings were leathery and it possessed a long, scaled tail tipped with short sharp spines. It was backed against a small pile of boulders, hissing at the hellhound that danced just out of range of its deadly tail.

"Good girl, Bela," Dean praised as he took aim. He had just let the arrow fly when something large slammed into him and he hit the ground, landing hard on one of his left wing.

"Dean!" Castiel shouted, a hard flap of his wings propelling him into the second cockatrice as it raised a foot to rake the Demon with its talons. Dragon-bird and Angel hit the ground, the cockatrice snapping at him with its razor-sharp beak but Castiel grabbed its head and gave it a sharp turn, quickly snapping its neck. The dragon-bird went limp and Castiel turned to the Demon who was propped up on his elbows, watching the Angel with wide, green eyes.

"Are you injured?" Castiel asked, having seen Dean land on his wing.

Dean blinked at Castiel dumbly. "What?"

"Are you hurt?" the Angel repeated and Dean shook his head. Watching Cas take out that dragon-bird with his bare hands had been way hotter than killing something had any right to be.

"No," the Demon Prince finally replied. "I'm fine. Landed on my wing but it's no big deal."

Castiel watched Dean stand and experimentally stretch his left wing, the Demon wincing a bit as he did so.

"Can I…" Castiel began, one hand reaching for the wing, then said, "Let me see it."

Dean glanced over at him, eyes questioning, before shrugging and stepping closer to the Angel.

Castiel had to admit to always being curious about what a Demon's wings would feel like. He'd been in battles, even though Michael had tried his best to keep both Castiel and Joanna away from the war, and he'd seen the large claws up close before but never attached to a living Demon - Zachariah had been… fond of taking trophies. The silver-capped spines of the old King of Hell had adorned the back of his father's throne for over twenty years, right up until Zachariah's death. Michael's first order as King had been to have them removed and, as part of his attempt to come to a peace with Hell, had them returned to Hell's capitol, Tartarus, with full funerary rites and honors. Castiel was more than a little ashamed to admit that it'd only just hit him that those spines had been pieces of Dean's grandfather.

"Cas?" Dean asked, drawing the Angel out of his macabre musings. He blinked before settling his gaze on Dean's face.

"My apologies," he said, blue eyes moving to Dean's outstretched wing. "Where does it hurt?"

"Well, I landed on the first two fingers," Dean replied, fanning the wing, "And I jarred the base joint when I hit the ground."

Castiel took a moment to study the spots Dean indicated. Demon wings were structured differently than Angel wings, having more bones and joints that gave them a wider range of motion. Castiel, for example, would never have been able to turn his wing like Dean had when insulting his brother without dislocating it first and Angels couldn't wrap themselves in their own wings the way that Demons could.

Dean's stomach fluttered as Castiel ran curious fingers along the long bones Dean had landed on, mapping the bones beneath the soft skin, searching for any breaks or fractures. There were a few tender spots but mostly Dean was focused on the Angel Prince's hands on his wings, stroking the outline of bone, softly petting the fleshy membrane stretched between them before sweeping up to curl a loose fist around Dean's top spine as Castiel's other hand brushed along the wing to settle on the base joint, where the wing attached to Dean's back, between and a little below his shoulder blades. Dean shivered, biting back a moan as Castiel's fingers gently prodded the joint, over his clothes but inadvertently finding an erogenous spot shared by most Demons nonetheless.

Touching Dean's wing was like touching living velvet, soft as newborn down, but Castiel could feel the strength coiled in the muscles tensing and shifting beneath his curious fingers. Dean didn't object to his exploring so Castiel slid one hand up to loosely grip the large claw at the top of Dean's wing. The Angel had been in battles with Demons before and had seen the damage those claws could inflict first hand, had seen Hell's warriors curl their wings in a way Angels never could and drive all six of their spikes into an opponent's body. It was a show of trust for Dean to allow Castiel so close to his wings and a show of the same on Castiel's part to willingly come so close. The Angel slowly slid his other hand along the large, main bone blown to the base joint at Dean's back, gently probing the muscle over the cover of Dean's leather hunting jacket, and the Demon shuddered.

"Does that hurt?" Castiel asked, lifting his hand.

Dean shook his head.

"No," he said, voice breathy. "It didn't hurt."

When Dean's eyes met Castiel's, pupils large and dark, the Angel understood. Holding Dean's gaze, waiting to be told 'no', Castiel followed the arch of bone to Dean's back again before slipping his fingers through the wing slits in the Demon's clothes.

Dean closed his eyes and groaned as Castiel's long, warm fingers wrapped around the base of his wing, the Angel's other hand still gripping his top claw, the hold seeming possessive now in a way it hadn't before and a sharp spike of want and lust sparked through him.

"Dean." The Angel's voice was a low rumble, his breath warm on Dean's face, and the Demon opened his eyes to find Castiel within kissing distance, the space between their bodies nearly non-existent. Castiel's blue eyes were dark, mirroring Dean's own and the Demon's heart started beating faster as the Angel moved to close those last few millimeters.

"Dean?" King John's voice cut through the moment and Dean jerked back, sucking in a deep breath as he put space between the two of them. Castiel reluctantly released his hold on Dean's wing but kept his heat-filled eyes fixed on Dean's.

"Yeah," the Demon said, his own eyes still caught by Castiel's, "We're here."

Dean was fairly certain he'd composed himself by the time the others joined them but Gabriel kept shooting knowing looks at him and Castiel. Ignoring the Archangel, Dean retrieved his arrow from the carcass of the first cockatrice while several servants field-dressed his and Castiel's first kills of the day. It was Queen Mary who discovered the nest, the fact that a pair of the normally solitary dragon-birds meant eggs slipping Dean's mind momentarily.

Castiel watched his soon-to-be-mate with hungry eyes as the Demon helped his mother gather the dozen or so leathery, football-sized cockatrice eggs into a basket. If Dean had been another Angel, Castiel would have thought nothing of slipping further into the woods with him and finishing what they'd begun but, as it was, he would have to wait for nightfall and the Nest. He wasn't accustomed to waiting for so long when a willing partner was so close but he found the anticipation setting a delicious burn loose beneath his skin. Castiel blinked quickly, making an effort to smooth out his feathers which were beginning to puff out to display his virility to a potential mate… to Dean, as Gabriel slipped through the minor chaos to stand beside him, his wide grin firmly in place.

"Hope we didn't interrupt anything," the Archangel said with a waggle of eyebrows.

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

Uriel sneered behind his fellow Archangel's back as he skirted the edges of the nesting site. Fool. More clown than warrior Uriel had no idea how Gabriel had risen to the rank of Archangel at all and was one he would not regret destroying when the time came; Castiel, on the other hand, he genuinely liked and would even mourn but Angelic law dictated that so long as there was a living heir of royal blood that no new family could assume the throne. The citizenry could be persuaded to do and accept much but Uriel doubted that enough of them would abandon their deeply-ingrained loyalty to King James' bloodline so long as even one of his descendants lived. Perhaps his superior could be persuaded to keep Castiel around after Michael and the others had been dealt with, he was even certain that this attraction Castiel had to the Demon would be forgiven so long as the Prince proved himself useful; after all, many an Angelic warrior had slaked his lust with a Demon bitch during the war, but, useful or not, Castiel wouldn't be allowed to outlive his siblings for long.

Bones crunched beneath his foot and Uriel scanned the area. The bile the dragon-birds expelled when bringing up the bones and other indigestible bits of their prey had an interesting effect on the surrounding plant life. Spreading out from the edges of the heap, about a foot in each direction, the plants had turned black. Grass, bushes, trees, though all still alive, were as black as tar and contained something that Angel warriors had used before battle for millennia. Dropping to one knee beside a blackened bush, Uriel plucked a handful of juice-filled berries and dropped them into the pouch that usually contained the stones for his sling, but not today. Unlike Castiel, Uriel had attended the meetings detailing the Demon's traditions and, once he'd heard tell of a pair of cockatrice in the area, Uriel's plan had formed. It was simple, like most ideal plans, and, thanks to the Demon tradition of Lust Night, could be easily put into motion.

Rising to his feet he stepped into Gabriel's line of sight and motioned the other Archangel over.

"Brother," he said. "I've found their leavings."

Gabriel let out a low whistle as he surveyed the spread of blackness seeping out from the pile of refuse.

"They've been here a while," he observed. "We'll have to have a few people stay behind to oversee the burning, make sure we don't set the whole forest ablaze."

"I'd be happy to stay and ensure the destruction of this place," Uriel said and Gabriel blinked at him in surprise.

"You don't wanna keep hunting?"

"I trust our Prince to be more than capable of bringing down something fitting, he's as fine a hunter as he is a warrior."

"If you're sure," Gabriel said, "I'll see you at tonight's feast, Brother."

"And I you," Uriel replied.

He waited until the party had gathered the carcasses and left for new hunting grounds before ordering the servants who had stayed behind to set fire to the refuse pile and surrounding blackened plants before returning to the Citadel. The berries had to be juiced and the juice refined before tonight and he didn't have much time.