Forgive you? forget you. The end... chapter 4

[caz2y5]

Bobby was worried. Hell, he hadn’t really stopped worrying since John had shown up on his doorstep with those two young boys in tow. They’d wormed their way into his heart all those years ago and he hadn’t managed to dig them out since. He’d felt that punch in the heart at their loss more times than he would care to count and he was about set to do it again.

What he was worried about right now though wasn’t as much a Winchester as it was the angel that had come to fill the void that was left when those two darn fool boys had gone and got themselves killed. Well okay, it turned out that neither of them was dead but that was beside the point. Bobby had lost both of them, again, and it had hurt like a son of a bitch, again, and he wasn’t ready to lose another fool boy who was trying to sacrifice his damned self for family, again.

Bobby had told Castiel as much when he’d explained his “plan”.

It wasn’t a plan, Bobby had stated-heatedly-it was a damn fool idea that was going to get Castiel killed.

Sure Bobby wanted Dean back but he was sick and tired and just too damned old to have to go through the same old dance of someone sacrificing their fool selves to bring back someone they had lost.

Right now, it was touch and go whether the angel pulled out of it, although maybe it was leaning a bit on the ‘go’ side.

The angel was still unconscious, lying on the couch in Bobby’s living room but his pulse was steady and his color was improving. Still didn’t stop Bobby, grumbled to himself as he paced back and forth across the room.

They’d both been unconscious when he and Chuck had gone into the safe room. Pale and barely breathing, Bobby had carried the angel out. Since they couldn’t know if Castiel’s spell had worked they left Dean where he was, chained up inside all of the wards and traps. If he was still a demon when he woke up he wasn’t going anywhere.

Crowley rolled his eyes and glared darkly at Bobby. “Enough with the pacing already, it isn’t bloody helping,” he snapped out as he stood up from his seat on the edge of the desk.

Bobby stopped and glared back at the demon, squaring his shoulders. He was about to tell Crowley just how fucking unhelpful it was to yell and he was damned well going to pace in his own damned house if he damned well felt like it. But Crowley had a whiskey in his hand and he held it out toward the hunter placatingly. “Here, drink this.”

On the one hand, Bobby was pissed because he didn’t need soothing. On the other, Crowley had damn fine whiskey and a belt of it would make him feel better. On the last hand, there was no way in hell Bobby was drinking with a goddamned demon. He opened his mouth to blast his uninvited guest when Chuck cleared his throat nervously.

“Uh guys?” Chuck’s voice split the tension between the two of them as they both turned to look in his direction. Chuck frowned awkwardly and pointed toward the couch. “I think he is waking up.”


Castiel opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling, the multi-colored wood with the yellow devil’s trap and he couldn’t help but wonder where the fan had gone to. It took a second for his brain to register that he was in Bobby’s living room and not in the panic room. It was odd because he certainly didn’t remember transporting himself away from Dean…
Dean!

He sat up and looked at the three men who were looking at him.

“Well?” Bobby demanded gruffly. “Did it work?”

Castiel stared at him a little bewildered for a moment. Something was out of place and he couldn’t figure out what it was.

“Here,” Crowley stepped up to him and held out a glass with what Castiel guessed was whiskey. “Get that down ya. It’ll make you feel better,” Crowley grinned smugly.

Castiel frowned and took the glass fairly certain it wouldn’t even taste like anything. One of the differences between human and angel was a heightened sense of taste. Hamburgers just didn’t have the same… allure as an angel as they’d had for Jimmy. So he took the glass with a shrug and downed its contents. It was like being kicked in the chest. His breath evaporated as his lungs and throat burned with alcoholic fire. The smooth and smoky flavor only made itself known after the initial scorching settled to a soft fire. Whiskey, single malt from Scotland, and expensive. Not Bobby’s usual brand. He could taste the subtle oak and nut tinge in the liquor.

That was when he knew what was out of place. “It’s gone.” He raised his face in shock and looked at Bobby in bewilderment. “My grace, it’s gone!”

“How in the hell is that even possible?” Bobby snapped, still a little on edge over the whole situation. This was just the icing on the cake. They should have known better than to trust a trickster.

Wind whipped around the room, there was the familiar flutter of wings, and Zachariah was standing in the middle of the room. Castiel sprung from his seat and stood between the angel and Chuck while Crowley moved behind Bobby and tried to be as small and unnoticeable as possible.

“I can answer that,” Zachariah grinned smugly as he adjusted his tie. “See when Castiel raised Dean from perdition he had to use part of his grace to wash Dean clean of his sins. We knew exactly how much he’d lost so we knew how much he’d need to scrub the weak-willed idiot’s blood clean again. So when he asked for his grace back I made sure he only had enough to do just that. Then we leaked the information. Knowing that someone would leak the information to you and, voila, one scrubbed vessel ready for use, and one rebel angel rendered powerless…again.”

Zachariah looked around the room as if expecting applause for his cleverness. When none was forthcoming he sneered and turned to face Castiel. “So now you’ve done your job like a good little soldier, it’s time to hand him over.” His voice was cold menace, his stance was intimidation and power. There was no doubt in any of their minds that Zachariah wouldn’t hesitate to smite them all.

Didn’t mean they had to roll over though.

“Dean isn’t here,” Bobby said. He eased his way toward his desk where he had his shotgun even though he knew it wouldn’t do any good against an angel.

Zachariah scoffed at the comment. “Castiel and I have a deal, don’t we?” He turned to look gleefully at Castiel. “We kept our end of the deal, now you need to keep yours.”

Three sets of eyes turned from Zachariah to Castiel who hadn’t stopped staring at the intruder.

“You made a deal to give Dean to the angels?” Crowley asked first even though all of the others were thinking the same thing. Castiel frowned and turned slightly to look at the demon.

Zachariah glanced over at the demon and screwed up his nose. “Of course he did,” Zachariah looked back at Castiel before he leaned slightly to the left to glance over Castiel’s shoulder at Chuck. “How else do you think we found you, to stop your visions from giving away what was going to happen?”

“You’re lying,” Bobby growled as he pulled the shotgun from under his desk and pointed it at Zachariah. Using the hunter’s movement as cover, Castiel pulled a long silver knife from his trench coat and shifted, moving to the attack.

Zachariah laughed softly in amazement, he flicked his wrist sharply and the gun was wrenched from Bobby’s hand and Bobby was slammed back against the wall behind him. Crowley was forced back into a chair. Chuck’s knees gave way and he collapsed back onto the couch. And Castiel who was about to plunge his dagger into Zachariah’s back was sent flying., The knife skidded across the floor as Castiel smashed down on top of the overflowing desk. He groaned as ribs cracked and already sore muscles were damaged further.

Zachariah straightened his tie with a sniff and crossed the room to loom over Castiel. He sneered. “You thought you could lose me, with your little hex bag? The moment you gave Dean your grace I knew about it. So tell me where he is!” Zachariah growled and placed his hand around Castiel’s throat in a not very subtle threat.

“No,” Castiel stated firmly. His eyes glinted in defiance but they were calm and sure. “Dean is-”

“He is what?” Zachariah interrupted, “Your friend?” He laughed scornfully. “You think these worthless mud monkeys are your friends? What about the demon, huh? Is he your friend too?” Zachariah glanced at Crowley and Bobby and Chuck. “Tell me where Dean is and I might let some of them live.”

“Hey, asshat, I’m right here!” Dean was standing in the doorway off to one side of the room, adjusting the bottom of his coat behind his back.

Zachariah turned and half snorted a laugh in surprise. “Well, it’s about time,” Zachariah straightened his cuffs and smoothed his jacket before stepping closer to the former hunter. “You’re kind of late to the party but, better late than never, right?” His jovial smile never touched his eyes and Dean didn’t smile back. The smile slipped away “It’s time to go, kiddo. Michael doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

“Why don’t you tell Michael he can bite me,” Dean jutted out his chin in defiance. The angel closed the distance between them in a single step and grabbed Dean by the shirt.

“Playtime's over, Dean. Time to come with us,” Zachariah growled into Dean’s face but Dean didn’t flinch, just stood there meeting the angel’s gaze with just as much anger.

“You listen to me, you two-faced douche,” Dean snarled, “After what you did, I don't want jack squat from you or any of your dick brothers!” His lips curled as he pulled Castiel’s thin silver angel sword from under his jacket. In one quick movement, Dean plunged Castiel’s sword up through Zachariah’s jaw and into his brain.

The air stilled in the room. It wasn’t just quiet, it was a vacuum that sucked up all sound, all movement, and squashed it dead. The angel’s mouth dropped open in surprise and his wide eyes locked on Dean. He could see the silver blade where it passed through Zachariah’s mouth and he knew where the tip had penetrated skull because blood had begun trickling down from a spot on the top of his head.

Light, blue-white and painful, began to spill out from Zachariah’s eyes and mouth. It was the angel’s grace dying inside of its human shell, bursting out because it no longer had the strength to contain itself. It was power and cold purity that should have incinerated the very air they breathed. It was sound beyond hearing that should have pierced ear drums and shattered glass.

Instead, Dean just stood there transfixed, staring as the light grew brighter and brighter. There was a sound like a whimper that gurgled up from Zachariah’s throat and the light flashed. One final pulse filled the room and made everyone else cover their eyes until it was gone. When they opened them again, the body of Zachariah’s vessel was stretched out on Bobby’s living room floor and, to either side of it, burned into whatever surface was presented, were his wings, translucent shadows, huge and awe-inspiring. Visible as they’d never been in life.

Dean sneered at the corpse and the shadow. He’d still been a dick. 


Dean took the compulsory hit of holy water, and even recited the Lord’s Prayer, to prove he was back to his old self before Bobby pulled him into his arms.

“It’s good to have you back, son.” Bobby smiled gruffly before pulling his hat down lower and stepping back out of the way. They both ignored the shine in the older man’s eyes as both easier and more comfortable all around. Chuck gave a small wave but remained hunched in on himself in one of Bobby’s big chairs. It was as safe a place as any, Dean supposed. Crowley was gone but Dean could still smell the demon taint in the air. It was a mix of sulphur and pain and Dean couldn’t believe he’d once breathed that in like ambrosia.

Finally, Dean looked at Castiel. The angel-his friend-had a bruise darkening his throat; a combination of slow-healing wound, partial strangulation, and the world’s largest hickey. He didn’t remember the first two, but knew he was responsible for the last one. Cas wouldn’t meet his eyes and Dean couldn’t blame the guy for that.

Dean sat at Bobby’s desk with a coffee, doctored, and found out what had been happening while he had been… gone.

It was embarrassing but these people-his friends-knew more about what Dean had been doing than he had counted on thanks to Chuck and his prophetic visions. Sometimes they seemed to know more and Dean figured they were times he’d been lost in a blood-induced haze, and sometimes it seemed like Chuck was dropping bits out of the story, especially where it concerned Sam, but he figured maybe Lucifer had messed up the visions. He might have had the power for something like that.

For whatever the reason, they were blank on a few of the Devil’s plans so Dean told them what he knew. It wasn’t much, in fact, it was embarrassingly little. He’d known that Lucifer hadn’t trusted him a whole hell of a lot but he had figured that Sam would’ve trusted him more than this. They’d been together for months; what the hell had they done with their time?

But Dean put that aside for later examination. Right now they had to figure out a way to stop Lucifer and, hopefully, maybe, to save Sam at the same time.

The Colt was brought up, but no one knew where it was. Chuck suggested they ask Crowley to find it but that would mean asking a favor from the demon and no one was really willing to owe him anything so they put that aside. They discussed ancient rituals to purge and cleanse but most of them, like ninety-percent, ending up with the possessed person dead, like really dead, and in the other ten percent of the rituals the demon’s host was so physically and mentally damaged that they might as well have been dead. So none of those were any good.

At the end of the night, when they were all exhausted and discouraged, Bobby suggested going along with Michael but none of them really understood what that meant. What did Dean have to offer the highest, most powerful angel in Heaven?

“You’re his vessel, Dean,” Castiel explained. He was holding his head up with one hand, defeat and utter weariness in every line. “His true vessel. With you as his sword and his shield, he could fight Lucifer and send him back to his cage.”

“Michael needs a meat suit?” Bobby asked in surprise.

Cas looked up. “He is an angel,” he said derisively, “Those are the rules.”

Bobby looked at Dean, eyes asking a silent question. “Life as an angel condom,” the younger hunter snorted in disgust, “I don’t imagine it’s any more fun than one as a demon holder. I think I’ll pass.”

In the end, all Dean was left with was the throbbing pain of a headache and the bone deep tiredness that came from having been rode hard and put up wet. He finally retreated upstairs to collapse on the bed in Bobby’s spare room. He had planned on sleeping but in the quiet of the early morning his brain started examining all the things that had happened to him.

He’d fuzzed the truth a bit downstairs. Let them think that Lucifer had forced most of the demon blood down his throat, but it wasn’t true. Dean had known what Lucifer had been planning, had known what the demon’s blood would do from the moment it hit his mouth. He had known-and he’d let him do it.

After Sam’s surrender and Castiel’s death it had been easier to just give up and not care anymore. So many years he’d cared too much about people and things only to have them ripped from him again and again. Mother, father, brother, friend. Home, life, hope. All of it had been stripped from the Winchesters at some point. Occasionally he’d got it back only to have it pulled out from under him yet again. He’d kept going but it often seemed like he was the only one who cared.

He hadn’t wanted to care anymore.

So he had said yes. He had said yes because he was tired and Sam had made it easy. ‘Join me,’ he’d said, ‘and we’ll always be brothers.’ Once he’d accepted it, once he’d taken that first offered drink from Bad kitty and then Cojak, it had been even easier. He hadn’t been able to care about anything, not even the fact that this was the wrong kind of easy, that it was giving up, that it meant that he had no hope left for...anything.

If Dean had ever thought about how he’d respond to the situation he’d found himself in four months ago-you know, before it had actually happened-then he probably would have told himself how it would make the year he’d spent trying to redeem himself for hell worthless, that all the energy and love he’d poured into Sam in an effort to save him would also become worthless. He would have told himself that saying yes to Lucifer because he was fucking tired was a weak-assed, pathetic excuse and there were always other options.

But he hadn’t had time to think about it.

One moment they’d been in that damned convent and the light was pouring through the floor and the noise was making his ears explode and then he’d been someplace else and Lucifer had already torn him apart, beaten and broken him and disassembled him piece-by-piece, like Alistair had done except worse because Lucifer wore his brother’s face and when Sam said he didn’t want to hurt Dean, Dean had felt guilty for causing Sam so much pain. When Sam said no one was coming to rescue him, Dean had believed him because Sam was the one who was supposed to rescue him but Sam was already here, damned like he was damned, and there was no one else. Lucifer had taken him apart emotionally, mentally and physically until there had been nothing he could do but say yes.

Dean closed his eyes and tried to fight off his thoughts He had images of things he had done; drinking demon blood had only been the start. Sam had asked him to hurt people, so he had. Sam had asked him to kill people, so he had. Sam had asked him to hurt himself, to betray what the Winchesters were, and Dean had probably done that too. All because Lucifer was wearing Sam and Dean didn’t want to care.

It was like being back from hell all over again only a thousand times worse because he had done it to living, breathing people and he remembered every damned second.


“Hey,” Castiel’s voice cut through Dean’s thoughts and Dean moved his hands from his eyes.

The once and former angel was leaning against the frame of the open doorway-Dean really should’ve remembered to shut it-gazing through him with those intense blue eyes. It made him feel even more uncomfortable about what had been rushing through his head, as if Cas could read his mind and see how far down he’d fallen.

Dean watched silently as Cas stepped into the room and pulled the door shut behind him. He said nothing as his former friend moved to the end of the bed. But he had to say something when Castiel raised his hands to the lapels of his overcoat and slid it and his suit jacket off before tossing them casually into a chair.

Dean swallowed against a mouth suddenly dry. “What’s up?” Dean asked, trying to sound unconcerned but suspecting that he’d failed miserably. Miserable, that was a good word for what he was: a miserable excuse for a human being. He should probably apologize for the things he had done to Castiel; the beating and the draining and the, the sex stuff. That would mean having to have a conversation about all of it and Dean was sure he wasn’t ready for that conversation. In fact, he was pretty sure he’d never be ready to have that conversation.

“You’re …kind of on my bed,” Castiel pointed out with a soft smile. He lean the bed frame, elbows bent, arms lazily crossed.

Dean raised an eyebrow and looked around. A cursory glance of the room revealed no personal effects to mark it as Castiel’s but, Dean reminded himself, Cas had only been human a few of months, and he’d been fighting Lucifer and the Apocalypse the whole time, so he may not have had time to accumulate much in the way of personal effects. “Your bed?”

Castiel’s brow furrowed and his head tilted to the side like he was studying Dean or maybe he was waiting for something. Dean couldn’t be certain. He’d never been able to read Cas very well, too many difference between human and angel, he guessed.

He’d been an angel again, when he’d come to Dean in the panic room to save him. Castiel had had his grace back and his mojo had been fully charged, and the guy had given it up for him... again. There was no way Dean was worthy of that. No way he’d ever come close even if he prayed every day and went to church twice on Sunday. How do you thank a guy for that?

You give him back his fucking bed.

““Sorry, didn’t realize,” he said as he rolled to the edge of the mattress. He let his legs drop off the side then pushed himself up into a sitting position. Dean rubbed his fingers over his eyes again even though he hadn’t really slept.

“You don’t have to get up, I just…I wanted to change out of this,” Cas tugged at his shirt. It had once been white, but now it was a dirty grayish color with ugly rust spots that Dean recognized as old blood. Blood that had come from the wound at Cas’ throat. A wound that he had put there so that Dean would drink his blood... except he hadn’t stopped at just drinking the angel’s blood, had he?

Dean was glad the sun was still just a sketch on the horizon and that the light was dim enough to hide his furious blush.

He’d kissed Castiel. Kissed him and rubbed up against him, up against a frigging angel. He was a sick, twisted fuck.

He couldn’t look at Castiel. He stared at the floor, he stared at the wall, he stared... but his eyes flicked to the other man, watching from the corner of his eye as gentle fingers undid the remaining buttons of his shirt. He stared from under his lashes as strong hands parted the fabric and pulled it off. He frowned as he noticed something on Cas’ chest, a mark or something on the left side just over the heart.

Without thinking, Dean reached out and brushed his fingertips over the precious symbol. It was the same protection tattoo that Dean used to have before Sam had turned him into a demon. His other hand found the rough scar tissue that was all that remained of his own tattoo.

“You marked yourself,” he murmured without thought.

Castiel’s fingers closed around Dean’s wrist and Dean froze. “Of course, I was fighting demons,” was the soft reply.

He kept his eyes on Castiel’s chest; he couldn’t look any higher, he couldn’t because Dean had been one of the demon’s Cas had been fighting. He tried to pull his hand back but Castiel’s fingers tightened their grip, keeping Dean’s hand where it was. Cas' thumb pressed to the underside of Dean's wrist, rubbing across the pulse point.

With just one twist, he could have Dean on the floor in agony. A hard yank would snap the bone. It would be a fitting revenge for all the suffering he’d caused Cas and Bobby... and the whole freaking world. He waited for it with his eyes closed and almost anticipated the pain.

Instead of pain, he felt fingers on his chin, stroking it, lifting it. He opened his eyes and Cas was right there, leaning in. Dean met Castiel’s gaze as he leaned in and brushed his lips against Dean's.
What the fu-?

It was all he had time to think before Castiel moved back in. This time he wasn’t gentle. He claimed Dean’s lips in a hard kiss that made the small hairs on Dean’s arms stand up. The hand at Dean’s jaw traced over his throat, tickling over his skin until he could wrap his hand around the hunter’s neck and pull him even closer.

He should fight, or protest or something. Cas didn’t want him, couldn’t want him.

Except that maybe he did because Cas didn’t jump back shouting ‘impure!’ or ‘demon!’ Instead, Castiel deepened the kiss, running his tongue along the seam of his lips asking for permission to enter. He kept his eyes on Dean’s and there was no anger, no condemnation in those pure blue eyes.

The soft look on his face made Dean’s heart race. Castiel’s tongue slid out once again, trailing softly over his top lip, and Dean opened his mouth and let his own tongue slide hungrily across the tip of Castiel’s.

Castiel raised an eyebrow and a smile spread over his lips. He climbed onto the bed and placed a knee on either side of Dean’s hips. He settled his weight, resting his ass on Dean’s thighs, trapping him, but Dean didn’t panic. This wasn’t a prelude to torture, not with Castiel. This, this wasn’t what he’d expected at all. Dean gazed up at him and he knew his face revealed his wonder but he didn’t care. He pressed his open hands to Castiel’s knees then slowly, slowly, let his hands trail up the outside of Castiel’s thighs.

Cas sighed in approval and leaned in, nuzzling at Dean’s throat, nipping and sucking at the exact same spot that Castiel had cut himself open for Dean.

Dean shuddered at the memory and his pulse jumped up a notch.

He tugged on Castiel’s shirt, pulling it all the way off. He pressed his palms to Castiel’s sides, letting his fingers play over ribs and muscles, until he reached Cas’ hips. He gripped them gently and encouraged the angel to snug himself in closer. Castiel’s hands cupped Dean’s cheeks and Castiel did as he’d been asked.

Their lips met again, no hesitation this time. They claimed each other’s mouths as they pressed closer, drinking each other in. Cas sucked Dean’s bottom lip between his teeth, raking it not-quite gently, before nipping his way across the hunter’s jaw, turning south just below Dean’s ear.

Dean moaned, and rolled his head to the side, exposing more of his throat and enjoying the languorous glide of tongue across bare skin. He was surrendering. He was surrendering-again-to someone who could hurt him really, really badly... And he was okay with that.

Besides, it felt wonderful.

He didn’t even try to contain his moan of enjoyment and he was rewarded when Castiel’s breath hitched and he rolled his hips forward, rubbing himself against Dean’s thighs and stomach even as his teeth scraped over Dean’s ear. “I want you, Dean,” he whispered. His breath, warm and sweet, made a shiver tickle its way over Dean’s scalp and down his spine. Dean tightened his grip on Castiel’s hips and nuzzled against his jaw.

“I want you too, Cas,” Dean’s voice cracked. This was the last thing Dean had expected when he had opened his eyes to see Cas standing at the foot of the bed.

Castiel sat back and trailed his hands down over Dean’s chest. When he reached Dean’s waist Castiel slid them up under Dean’s shirt because he wanted to draw his nails over the bare skin of Dean’s stomach. Dean’s back arched as he tried to sink into the sensation and another soft moan fell from his lips.

He returned the favor. He ran his hands across Castiel’s back, nails scratching lightly along Castiel’s spine as he leaned up and nipped at his collarbone. He closed a fist around a handful of Cas’ eternally messy hair and gently tugged his head back nipped at the underside of Castiel’s jaw.

A soft sound purred at the back of Castiel’s throat and Dean felt the way their stubbled jaws scraped roughly against each other. It made him remember the first time Cas had kissed him and how it had made the numbness in his bones fade away. He kissed the curve of Cas' shoulder; he bit the swell of deltoid muscle; he licked the sensitive tendons that joined the two. “Taste so good,” he murmured.

Castiel’s hands moved back down to his waist and began pulling and pushing at the button on Dean’s jeans. At the same time, Dean grabbed for Cas’ slacks feeling the same urgency.

. It was awkward but he really didn’t give a fuck, he wanted Cas naked, wanted to feel the heat of Cas skin pressed against his own. He jerked at the fastening to the belt but it didn’t budge. “Motherfuck...” he muttered. Why the hell wasn’t it coming moving?

Castiel smiled at him and stood up, never breaking eye contact. He pulled Dean up with him and then pulled him close and claimed his lips once again. He pressed his naked chest against Dean’s and the hunter shivered at the contact. “So fucking warm,” he sighed.

All Dean could do was hold on. He made sure his fingers had a good grip on the former angel’s hips because he was not about to let the man go any time soon. Cas' hands trailed down his sides making chills run up his spine. He moaned into Castiel’s mouth when one of those hands rubbed hard against his groin.

Castiel pushed him back and met his gaze. “Naked… Now!” Blue eyes filled with something so dark that Dean bit his own lower lip.

He watched as Castiel undid the belt on his pants. Dean did the same, Cas had already undone the button and with one sharp tug the fly was open and he could shove down his jeans and boxers.

Cas was a little more graceful. Kicking his shoes off as he undid his dress pants, he tucked his thumbs under the waist line and pulled everything down and off in one smooth move...including his socks.

“You’re amazing,” Dean said. He wasn’t sure if he meant Cas’ moves or his body. Either was spectacular.

Cas grinned and enfolded Dean in his arms. “You are also wonderful,” he said in return. Dean was going to protest; he was nothing special-less than nothing really-but Cas didn’t give him the chance. He was kissing Dean again, pressing himself up against him. Dean could feel Castiel’s erection as it nuzzled his own. He grabbed Cas and held on as Cas moved with him.

For an endless moment, Dean was as close to heaven as he thought he’d ever get. Then the angel pulled away. He didn’t go far, just to the bed. He laid down on it and, with one hand extended, invited Dean to join him. Nothing loath, Dean tried to be smooth but was sure he came across about as suave as an over-hormonal teenager.

It didn’t matter though, once their limbed were tangled together and their lips were re-exploring newly familiar territory. Dean settled down on top of Castiel and the feel of him, of his naked body underneath his own was like fire and ice. Heat because this was Cas and Cas wanted him despite everything that he wasn’t and everything he’d done, but the position also made him unsettled. He was on top, in control, it was up to him to set the pace and make sure he didn’t hurt the smaller man and it felt weird and wrong and he didn’t understand why.

Cas grabbed his cheeks and pulled Dean to face him. “Dean, focus on me. You’re with me now.”

Dean’s breath hitched. He stared into Cas’ blue, blue eyes. Cas believed in him. “Your eyes are beautiful,” he said and meant so much more than what he said.

Cas smiled in return, “I loves yours as well.”

And then it was lips and hands and skin. Leg hair providing a rough caress when he ran his calf up Cas’ leg. He found one of Cas' nipples and trapped it between his teeth. The former angel arched up against him and moaned. His erection rubbed against Dean’s stomach and left a warm, sticky trail of pre-cum on his belly.

The feel of it stole the hunter’s breath, drew his attention and all he could think about was that long hard cock squeezed against his own. He needed more friction, needed the way it felt, the way Cas smelled. He needed to hear Cas’ breath hitch. He needed to feel Cas’ body move against his own. The way Cas hips bucked and pressed back against his own, it was pretty easy to tell that Cas wanted it too.

Fingers dug into his hips and Dean found himself flung onto his back as Cas crawled on top of him. Strong hands fumbled at Dean’s legs as the angel maneuvered for a place between Dean’s legs.

Dean actually had to laugh a little. “Been a while for you, Cas?” he teased fondly.

Cas pulled back to stare at him. “Actually, it’s been forever.”

Now Dean couldn’t laugh. He could barely breathe. “Holy fuck, Cas...”

“That’s the plan,” the angel cut him off with a kiss. He pulled Dean’s legs up until the hunter’s knees encircled his hips. He wrapped his hands around Dean’s wrists and pulled them taut.

Dean relaxed fully into the hold, feeling somehow reassured by the position. “Kinky bitch,” he whispered when Cas released his lips. Cas growled in response but that just made Dean chuckle even more. He pressed his lips to the thick vein in Cas’ neck and began humming some Led Zeppelin, knowing the angel would be able to feel the vibration. Then he undulated, letting his body shift in long waves, rubbing all his bits against all of Cas’. “Don’t get sea sick on me, Cas,” he teased.

Cas leaned away, transferring both Dean’s wrists to one hand. “You don’t know how to shut your mouth, do you,” he said even as he fumbled in the little bedside dresser.

Dean smiled and didn’t fight Cas’ hold, “Zachariah found it annoying.”

Cas pulled out the tube of lubricant. “Good thing I’m not Zachariah then.”

With that Dean’s laugh belled out, and it felt so good, almost as good as Castiel maneuvering around on top of him. “It’s a very good thing. Jesus, Cas, why’d you have to put that image into my head?”

“You mentioned him first,” Castiel answered. Dean opened his mouth to respond but the angel covered it with the tube. “You need to shut up now,” he said. He waited until Dean nodded his understanding before leaning back over him. Cas released his hands but Dean left them where they were, enjoying the stretch of his muscles. He watched Cas fumble with the tube. He bit his lips to stop himself from telling him how to break the safety seal because watching the former angel struggle with a tube of K-Y was honestly adorable.

“First time, huh?’ Okay, so he couldn’t keep his mouth completely shut.

Cas glared at him, “Quiet.”

He snickered until Cas figured out the lube and reached slick fingers down in between them. Then he had to bite his bottom lip because the feel of those fingers sliding over his sac, trailing over the sensitive perineum, and down to his hole. Dean curled his hands around the bars of the bed frame as Cas's fingers started working him open.

“There’s a spot,” he instructed urgently, “the prostate. Cas, please.”

Castiel smiled at him and his blue eyes are such deep pools of want and need that Dean knew he should be afraid. Only he wasn’t and he’s never going to be, not of Cas. For the first time in a long, long, time, he wasn’t afraid of being vulnerable. He wasn’t afraid that he was the only one who cared too much, There was a heat burning inside him yet he can’t stop shivering. His back arched as he worked himself against Cas' fingers. His heart thrummed so loud in his head that it was almost deafening.

“Oh shit, Cas,” he prayed softly. “Oh fuck.”

He’d found the spot. All of Dean’s nerves are electrified. They’re sparking and firing and Dean hasn’t felt this good in... In forever.

“Are you ready?” Cas asked him gently.

Now it was Cas’ turn to chuckle because all Dean could do was moan.

It didn’t take Cas long to work himself inside of Dean and it felt perfect. Cas’ eyes went distant as the physical sensations overwhelmed him. “Dean,” he gasped in panic, “It’s too much.”

Dean brought his arms down, wrapped them around the angel’s back and held him tight, grounding him. “Shh,” he soothed, “it’s okay. It’s all good.” He’d felt this before, or something like it, but it was distant and unimportant because he was with Cas and good was better.

They laid together quietly, waiting for Cas to gather himself back into one piece but Dean didn’t care how long it took because they were together. He felt the stretch of Cas’ body inside him and it felt like coming home. Then Cas started moving and it was even better.

Each thrust short circuited Dean's brain, rendering him incapable of reason or thought. He was speaking, he knew it, but he could barely hear himself and he didn’t care. “It’s incredible, Cas,” he said, “It’s like heat and ice and, oh fucking god, Cas you feel so good...”

A stuttering shiver of a moan was Cas’ helpless reply.

Dean’s toes curled and he timed his thrusts to move counter to Cas, making sure the angel was as deep as he could get before squeezing him tight as he slid back out.

Dean’s arms coiled around Cas’ shoulders and he pulled himself closer to his angel

“Dean,” Castiel’s voice was tight, “I feel-”

“It’s okay, Cas,” Dean soothed as best he could considering... “It’s better than okay.”

“Dean.”

“Oh shit yeah, Cas. Just like that.” He couldn’t think, he couldn’t. It was too much. It was everything.

Dean had once set off a box of firecrackers, sparks had filled the sky and he had burnt down a half wild field. But that was nothing compared to the sparks that whited out his vision and filled his brain with, holy fuck yes, endorphins that making love to Castiel set off. His body jerked and jumped as it emptied itself, covering them with thick, hot fluid. He called Cas’ name, repeating it with every pulse.

Then Cas’ body was following him over the edge and he called out Dean’s name in tones of surprise and wonderment and Dean knew that this was it for him. He was completely gone on the nerdy little angel.

Cas collapsed against him, shivery, breathing hard, and clutching helplessly at Dean’s shoulders so Dean held him close and kissed his forehead. He licked the salty sweat from his lips and told himself that he really shouldn’t find that sexy.

“That was...” Cas stopped, still panting slightly. “Being human again might not be so bad after all.”

The comment surprised a snicker from the hunter. “I’ll turn you into a perv yet.” He could feel Cas’ smile against his collar and he instinctively tightened his arms. Hopefully, this meant that thing were okay between him and Cas because if things were okay between a former angel and a former demon maybe there was still hope for everything else.

He knew things still weren’t right with the world, the Apocalypse was still on and Sam was still out there playing ring-leader of hell, For now, Dean was going to lay here and enjoy the peace that being in Cas's arms gave him.

For now, it was all he needed to care about.

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