The Unkind Distance: Chapter 1

[adustyspectacle]

So this was supposed to be a fluffy oneshot with a jealous Dean because Cas found himself a boyfriend. But now there's chapters and angst so.. yep. You can also read it at AO3 or Tumblr.

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lone wolves

The hunter cursed himself as he lost sight of the creature he was supposed to be hunting. He quickened his step, almost running, but the night made him cautious. At least the sky was cloudless and the moon full, her pale glow softly illuminating the forest where it escaped into. It was eerily quiet, even with the soft rustling of the trees. The birds were silent, as if they were scared of the beast lurking amongst them right now.

It was his first time hunting a werewolf, even if he already knew the lore about them. Easy enough to kill, although silver bullets are a pain in the ass to get. He could have used a knife, but he’s not really as confident with blades as he is with guns.

He broke into a run and threw stealth out of the metaphorical window. There was no point, he reasoned with himself. The werewolf could probably hear or smell him even if he was quiet. He just hoped there was nobody here at this hour. It was late, almost dawn. And it wasn’t as if there was anything to see except for the trees, so there should be no one, but you never know.

Of course, the gods (or whoever, he doesn’t really know, nor does he particularly care) were cruel and capricious. There was a clearing up ahead, with a body of water that’s too small for a lake but too big to be a pond. He finally spotted the werewolf, and he sighed in relief. Dread, however, quickly sank in as it rapidly approached someone standing near the water.

He took bigger, wider steps, forcing his legs to go faster, while quickly debating with himself on what to do. He considered shouting, alerting the crazy guy who likes to wander around in forests and stare at god knows what at the water’s surface, but that would alert the werewolf too. It might get spooked and escape. But then again, he didn’t really want to know what it would feel like if the guy gets his heart eaten right in front of him because of his indecision.

Not that it mattered now, because there’s no time. The werewolf was so close, he knew that even if he shouted now the guy would still be dead. Fuck. He started shouting anyway.

“Watc—”

There was a glint of silver, and next thing he knew, the werewolf was dead.

What the fuck?

He slowed down. The guy just killed a werewolf like he was swatting an irritating fly.But what’s weirder is that he’s staring at the corpse, and there’s this profound sadness emanating from his being. Like he didn’t want to kill that werewolf.

Huh.

He’s close now. He’s equal parts curious and wary about this guy, but curiosity triumphed and he cleared his throat to catch the guy’s attention. He said to himself it wouldn’t kill the cat, but he’s a cynic at heart. His curiosity would, at the very least, maim a cat or two.

When the guy finally looked at him, he knew right then that he would be drowning in a sea of dead cats because holy shit the guy was beautiful.

His hair was dark, soft, inky. It was chaotic and messy, but there was beautiful order on said chaos. His features were sharp, his jaw strong and accentuated by a five o’clock shadow. And his lips were the kind you want to kiss for hours.

But it was his eyes that made the hunter stare. It was blue, electrifying and calming at the same time. It was old, and ancient. His gut told him the man in front of him was dangerous, something supernatural, but his eyes and his expression just felt… human that made him ignore his instinct.

He was beautiful and ethereal. Not even the Gas-n-Sip vest the man seemed to be wearing could detract from it.

They stared at each other. The hunter wanted to say something, but his voice was still caught up in his throat, unwilling. He didn’t know what to say anyway. And he didn’t really mind, because the guy can stare like nobody’s business.

It was cliché as fuck, but it felt like hours. In reality it was probably just a minute or two, maybe even less, but… yeah. The hunter was too busy staring. The man tilted his head to the side, just a fraction, and his face scrunched up into a frown and said, “You’re a hunter.”

Goosebumps erupted in his arms as he involuntarily shivered. He was pretty sure his knees wobbled a bit. The guy’s voice was deep, gravelly, and hot as fuck.

“Uh… yeah,” he managed to say. He also finally managed to break the eye contact, and looked down at the werewolf’s corpse. It looked fully human now. “Thanks, for killing him. Wanna help me take care of the body somewhere?” He hadn’t meant to make it sound like a come-on, but it did, and the hunter would have laughed at the absurdity if it wasn’t coming out of his own mouth.

The corner of the man’s lips turned up in what seemed to be an approximation of a smile. “Of course.”

“Right… uhm. I’m Ethan. What’s your name?”

There was silence, broken only by the soft rippling of the water. Then—

“Castiel.”

---

Sam didn’t know how long he can take Dean’s sulking anymore. It defied expectations and risen to levels Sam would not like to experience twice. It’s been… weeks and weeks, nearing two months, and it started ever since Cas came to the bunker and left at the same time. Dean said Cas left on his own, apparently because it was unsafe for them because he was being hunted by the fallen angels.

That was such an obvious lie Sam didn’t even know where to start. For one, the bunker was warded, and two, Dean would never have let Cas leave, especially now that the former angel was human. Even more so when said angel was actually killed by that reaper before they got to him.

It just didn’t make any sense.

“Oh you know how he is, he’s always flying off somewhere,” his brother said when Sam tried to broach the subject. His tone was angry, as it usually was whenever Cas leaves, but it’s a different kind of anger. There was guilt and longing mixed in that Sam hadn’t heard before.

It was three months after Cas left before he found out the truth.

“What the actual fuck, Dean?!” Sam’s voice echoed throughout the bunker’s many halls. Sam was angry. He was livid. Enraged. But most of all he was resigned and tired.

He wasn’t even shocked anymore. At least, not as shocked as he should be, for being unknowingly possessed by an angel for three whole months. It’s just like Dean to pull an asshole move like that just so his little brother would live. Sam didn’t even feel a little bit grateful, unlike the last time when his brother sold his soul for him. He just felt violated. Unclean.

“I’m so—”

“Don’t! You may mean it, but we both know you’d do it again, so I don’t wanna hear your damn apologies!”

His older brother fell silent at that, hands curling into fists atop the library table. Sam started pacing, moving so the urge to punch something would dissipate. It helped abate the anger, and now the past three months started to make a little bit of sense.

Sam thought it was a side-effect from the trials, but the memory gaps must have been the times when Dean was talking to Ezekiel. Then there was that time when his throat was slashed by that shaman, but when he came to the only evidence he had was the blood on his clothes. And Cas… Ezekiel must have brought Cas back to life when he was killed by that reaper…

Sam’s eyes widened as the gears on his mind whirred and something clicked.

“Cas… Cas didn’t leave on his own, did he?” said the younger Winchester. His tone was neutral. Or as neutral as he could muster anyway. He looked at Dean just in time to see his brother’s jaw clenching even more and shutting his eyes, as if he was in pain.

“I tried, Sammy… I– I tried. Zeke… Zeke said he’d leave if Cas stayed… and I wanted Cas to stay, I really do, but you were dying and—”

Sam didn’t have the energy to yell or be angry anymore. “Damn it, Dean.” He sat in front of his brother, elbows on the table as he massaged his temples.

“He’s human now and you kicked him out? The bunker is safe. It’s warded and hidden and— please tell me you at least checked on him.”

“I… Cas can take care of himself.”

“Did you forget that he actually got killed before we found him? He’s probably still being hunted by angels. Jesus, it’s been three months, and you didn’t check on him even once?” The panic and guilt in Dean’s face made Sam stop. He would have liked to say more, but as much as it feels great to call Dean on his bullshit, Sam didn’t want his brother to feel any more guilty than he was. Dean’s probably doing a good job of doing that to himself.

Besides, bitching wouldn’t really help their friend.

So Sam sighed, and stood up. “I’m getting my laptop and try to find Cas. Are you gonna help or what?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah okay.”

---

Burning the body took longer than it should have, mostly because Ethan can’t stop stealing glances at Castiel. It was a weird name, he thought, but surprisingly fitting. It was smooth to the tongue like a lazy wave of the sea.

The man’s movements were graceful and precise as they hauled the body away from the pond-slash-lake. After a considerable distance, they laid down the corpse and Ethan shrugged off his small bag of supplies from his shoulders. He opened it and brought out a pack of salt, a can of gasoline, and a box of waterproof matches. He didn’t know if werewolves could come back as ghosts, but it was better to be cautious and paranoid as fuck in this life.

Castiel held out his hands, and Ethan obliged him by handing him the salt. They were nice hands, the hunter thought, and it took him a considerable amount to shake off where his thoughts were going. He didn’t need those right now. Besides he only just met the guy, it’s bad manners to think those kind of thoughts on a guy you just met.

Still, he can’t help but hope that this Castiel guy would be into dudes too.

Hunting was a lonely life, at least for him. It was risky, and dangerous, and pretty damn stupid, but he wasn’t really comfortable trusting his life with someone else, at least not yet. And he definitely wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready being trusted with somebody else’s life. Sure he’d been on group hunts, like that time with a pack of skinwalkers in Texas, or that vampires’ nest in Nebraska, but it wasn’t the same. (the nest was his first hunt, actually, and his first experience with the supernatural. His then girlfriend got turned and tried to kill him, but he was saved by a hunter named Garth. He was… odd, to say the least, but Ethan managed to convince him that he can help with the remaining vampires in the nest.)

It was pretty nice, burning a werewolf corpse with someone. It was even kind of romantic, with the sky turning orange from the first rays of sunlight while both of them stared at the fire.

Ethan turned his gaze towards the other man and sighed. The light of the fire was making Castiel’s features more prominent. It also made him look even sadder for some reason. He couldn’t figure out if it’s from killing that werewolf or from something else, like a memory.

The latter, probably. It had that same feeling when he was reminiscing about his past.

“So…” Ethan started. He didn’t really know what to say, but he did want to know more about Castiel. “Thanks again, you know, for killing the werewolf. For a moment I thought you were gonna get killed, but damn man, you’re a badass.”

Castiel turned and faced the hunter, smiling in that non-smile he had. (It was very cute and kind of distracting.) “Thank you,” Castiel said. He really had the most arresting eyes Ethan had ever seen in his life. He was sure there’s a chance that this beautiful man right in front of him is something supernatural too, but he was surprised that he didn’t mind. At all.

“I should… go. I have work,” Castiel continued.

Right. Probably to a Gas-n-Sip, judging from Castiel’s vest. It’s weird, for someone as badass as him to be working at a Gas-n-Sip, but Ethan figured he was retired or something.

“I could drive you. I mean, the hunt’s done and you seem nice so… I was kinda hoping we could hang out after your work… if you want.”

Castiel’s eyes widened in surprise, lips parting a little bit. But his face morphed something akin to happiness. His smile was wider, and Ethan could even see a glint of white teeth. “That would be very nice.”

Ethan matched him with a grin. He was giddy. His heart was—for the lack of a better, more age-appropriate word—fluttering like a teenager.

“Awesome. Where to, Cas?”