Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“The fricking useless piece of shit,” Dean cursed the flashlight in his hand. The darkness was so thick it felt like he was trying to cut concrete with a butter knife. Nothing here was normal. From the moment his foot touched the ground of the empty, all the hair on his body stood up.

Something had been watching him since he had entered the empty. A vast and unfathomable weight was pressing down on him, almost like a warning to turn back.

“Not gonna happen, buddy.” He whispered, even though he knew it was pointless. A whisper was probably as loud here as church bells. And their entire plan hinged on sneaking in unnoticed. Get in, get Cas, get out. What a load of crap. It only proved what a bunch of idiots they were.

Like a little thing of “no odds in their favor” had ever stopped them.

An entire year was spent on meticulous preparation for this hunt. They scoured half the world for all the ingredients and called in every favor they were owed. There were so many spells and charms on Dean’s body he was practically vibrating with magic.

He might have had doubts if he had stopped for even a second in the last 365 days to consider how completely bonkers the entire plan was. Instead, they soldered on with the most suicidal mission yet. Oh well, the things they do for family.

And revenge.

If they do manage to get out of here, Dean will personally nail Castiel’s ass to the wall. Fucking self-sacrificing asshole. Who did he think he was? Give a speech like that and then die... with a fucking smile. Moron, that’s what Cas was.

Was Dean angry? No, not at all. He was furious! Where did it all lead them in the end? In the same situation as always – yanking the balls of an entity older than time itself.

The things he did for the angel.

Dean had a strong sense that the moment he set foot in this place, he was as good as dead. The bigger mystery was why he was still breathing. Something told him that discovering the answer would be more terrifying than dying.

This place, this empty, was unlike anything he'd ever seen. Besides feeling like he was walking in circles, he could not stop looking back, surprised nobody was following him. A few times, he could have sworn something touched his neck. But the place was utterly deserted. There was not even the sound of his own footsteps.

The only thing he could rely on was an occasional flare of warmth in his stomach. The so-called compass Rowena created for him. The damn thing looked like it was made from entrails of a road kill and bus seat chewing gums. A big, smelly, disgusting blob he had to swallow. Oh, how she enjoyed that part. That woman was born to torment. At least the spell was working. There was a constant pull in his gut toward Castiel that itched like crazy every time he stepped off the path.

To not go insane in this desolate place, he spent hours thinking about everything he would say to the angel. Love, my ass. Misguided bastard with his “coffee has no taste” and “it’s all the same, just molecules,” what did he know about love? Nothing. Not a goddamn thing. And even if he did,... wasting it on somebody like Dean... Self-sacrificing shit like that was precisely what always landed him in crappy situations that exploded in everybody’s face.

A wisp of cold air hit Dean’s neck, and he whirled around, but nobody was there.

“This place will drive me insane.” Dean had just about enough of this place. Once this was done, that is, if he survived with all his arms and organs, he’d take the baby and hit the road. No more gods, monsters, and chaos. It was time for some me, myself and I, and the wide open road.

Cursing his own paranoia, he turned back to continue on his way and swallowed a scream. An inch from his nose, a face stood, looking at him curiously. A male face with short black hair, a long nose, eyes black, not a speck of white in them.

“What happened to your face? It is all mashed up. What are you?” The Empty asked, its eyes rowing over Dean’s face, hidden behind a spell.

Dean took a step back from the hand that tried to touch him. “Oh, I am just passing through.”

“Passing through? Through to where?” It cocked its head, the hand left hanging in the air, forgotten.

“Oh, you know, the next stage in development.”

“Your words are… confusing.” A blink.

“Buddy, my entire life is confusing,” Dean murmured, trying to think of anything that would get him out of this.

“Life? You are alive. What are you?” The Empty circled him, staring at him like he was a science specimen. “I sense many things inside of you. A demon, a vampire, a djinn, an archangel, and something else. Hidden. In the shadows…” It stopped a few inches from Dean and loudly inhaled. “Smells familiar… But you are not any of those… things.”

“Like I said, I am a happy bundle of confusion not even god could make sense of.” Dean swallowed nervously, hoping the spell keeping him hidden wouldn’t fail now.

“Puzzle. Mystery. I do not need those. Sleep!” The Empty wailed and slapped its face, leaving a black imprint on the cheek. “Why does this keep happening? I haven’t slept in ages!”

“Damn, you are in deep, huh,” Dean said without thinking, shocked at the Empty’s behavior.

“I just wish for some peace... He keeps… whispering. Whispers in the dark. On and on and onononononON!” Dean clasped his hands over his ears, trying to escape the scream that hit his brain like a thousand ice picks. When it finally faded away, he stupidly blinked at the blood on his trembling palms, unable to understand how it got there.

It did not matter. Nothing mattered but the mission. He rubbed the blood away on his pants and tried to focus his scrambled brain back on the task. But it was like trying to move a boulder up a hill.   

“Insomnia is a bitch. I know, I had it for years. Once you get it, that’s it. It stays with you forever.” Dean said without thinking.

The Empty stared at him for a second and blinked, “I will kill you now.”

“Who is keeping you awake?” Dean quickly asked, hoping to keep it talking.

“Nothing! I am nothing! Nothing is beyond my rule! I say, what happens here. Yap, yap, yap. I knew he was a pest, and I thought, finally, he's asleep.” The Empty paused and touched its chest. “Here, I have demons, gods, and angels infinitely stronger than him. All obedient. All in line. My rule. My say. My DOMAIN!”

 “But not this guy, huh? He awake?” For the first time in a year, Dean felt a flicker of hope.

“NO! Never again. HE SLEEPS!” The Empty cried, walking in a circle. “Why? Why? Why won’t he shut up? Peace! I need sleep!”

“I don’t understand. You said he is sleeping?”

“He is sleeping too loud. Loud, loud, loud.” The Empty growled, strands of hair falling around its feet as it slowly ripped them from its head.

“How can dreams be loud?” The damn thing was utterly insane.

“I do not KNOW! I have never experienced anything like this. I threw him deep. Soooooo deep. I thought he would melt into the background. But nononono. He is even more… more louder than BEFORE!” The scream echoed through the empty. “And now, you. Just walked into here like you own the place. What are you?”

“What is he dreaming about?” Dean asked quickly, trying to turn the Empty's mind back on Cas.

The Empty stopped pacing and cocked its head. “He. He. He is just… standing there. Doing… nothing.”

“Standing where?” Dean whispered. 

“He is standing over a… man. Watching him sleep.”

“Yeah?” Dean swallowed a laugh, not surprised that even in his dreams, Cas was still a pervert. “Well, that doesn’t sound so bad. What is so loud about watching.”

“Watching is not a problem.” The Empty growled, “Only regrets! I allow them only regret and pain. He dares to bring warmth! Everything he does is designed to make me go insane!”

What the hell was it talking about? “What do you mean warmth?”

“Counting. He is counting the atoms of the man’s face. 6 billion 4 hundred and six, seven, eight, nine…. 15… 20. There is a whisper behind every number. A word… A number and …The word Dean. Dean, Dean. Over and over and over. It is annoying! It is …calming? Why is that calming to him?”

“It’s a name,” Dean whispered in shock, wondering if Cas did that every time he watched Dean sleep.

“I know what a name is!” The Empty snapped at him. “Dean Winchester is a name. He is not saying the name. He is, he is….! I am in his mind. I know the difference. A name is a name is a name. Nothing special about it. A name said with so much, so much… What is that? I do not understand what it is! It is constantly buzzing. It never stops! Drilling, drilling into my mind. And why is it so calming? So warm.” The Empty mumbles, “Why isn’t he in pain?”

“How does it feel?” Dean asked, needing to know, desperate for a small piece of the angel.

“Feel? Feel! Only regret and desperation are allowed. Always defiant. SLEEP, you damn angel!... Feel? Hm… it feels… I have nothing to compare it to. He feels… He whispers the name and feels warm… and light, and insignificant and big. All at the same time.”

“Oh.” Dean swallowed.

“Oh? Oh. Oh. You know. You understand. You will tell me. NOW!” The cold gripped Dean’s chest, squeezing the breath out of him.

“He is… praying.” Dean choked out, fighting to inhale.

 “Praying? Praying! To a human?! There is no end to his INSANITY! I should kill, crush… ” The Empty raged, forgetting all about Dean. The cold released him, and he crumbled to his knees, sucking in air into his starved lungs.

A flicker of warmth in his stomach warned him that time was running out. Rowena warned him the spell would not last forever, but this was ridiculous. It’s only been a few hours since he got here, and now he was stuck with an insane entity that could rip him to shreds with a snap of its fingers. No matter how much he wanted to run straight to Cas, that was out of the question now. It would only put them both in danger.

But he could circle. Keep the angel in the center and make each circle smaller and smaller.

Cas buddy, can you hear me? I am almost there. Whatever you are doing, don't stop cause it's working. I am taking you home. Hold on just a bit longer.

“There!” The Empty screamed, ripping its hair in frustration. “He did it again. A different dream, a different warm feeeeeling. Always warmth! He is disrupting the balance. Cold keeps them docile. Asleep. I need to do something. What to do? Before it’s too late. They must not wake. They must not wake, They must not wake… ” The Empty mumbles.

Deciding to risk it, Dean continued walking, and the Empty, lost in thought, fell into step beside him. Every few feet, Dean adjusted the route by a couple of inches, always keeping Cas to his right.

He was getting close. Real close. The spell was almost singing when an ice-cold needle pressed into his side, making him trip. With a groan, he righted himself and froze, the Empty standing an inch from his face, black eyes staring at him without blinking.

“What is that?” The Empty pointed a finger at his abdomen. “There is something inside of you. It smells wrong. Why is your face squashed like that?”

A cold sweat rolled down Dean’s back. It must not find out about the spell. All will be lost.

“What… What is he dreaming now?” Dean stammered.

“Who cares!” Cold breath hit Dean's face, making his skin burn.

“Maybe the solution you seek is inside his dreams. You should analyze them. Make a chart and… and study the um..  symbolism of it and other… shit like that.”

“Inside? Inside… Not a bad idea, not bad at all. Let’s see, where is he now.” It taped a finger on its lip, thinking. “A house. Yes, yes, it is called a house. Such a small space. How can he stand it? He is inside. In a bed. Sleeping. What are you dreaming about, pest?” Empty pauses, its eyes squinting.

“A loud bang wakes him, and he looks at the black box beside the bed. It says 7.10 am. The photograph next to it is blurred. I can not make out the faces, but at least four people are in it. He is getting up… Why is he smiling? Who smiles when they wake up? It is unnatural.

“He is walking down … stairs. There are photographs all over the wall. Why so many? A kitchen. Yes, that is what it’s called. There is a man there … washing his hands, and … he’s cursing. Why is the angel laughing? No laughter. NO LAUGHTER!”

As the Empty raged, Dean watched in fascination the color of its hair change to a lighter shade. Even its lips and nose were slightly different, their shape strangely familiar. It was as if, in its insanity, it could not hold its shape any longer.

“What does the kitchen smell like?” Dean asked. The more it lost itself inside Cas’ dream, the easier it would be for them to escape.

 “Smell? How should I know what it smells like?! It … it… it…it..” The Empty repeated the word, its brain stuck in a loop.

“Go deeper into his mind. Find the answer.”

“It … it… This is food… yesssss. Yessss, the angel knows this smell. What is the word? It is right there in his mind. Where are you… Ah, bacon! Eggs and bacon! Oh, the memory of it… it is quite... why is it so good? I don’t, I … I… I am so … so happy. Why am I happy?” The Empty whispers.

“You need to go deeper,” Dean said.

“Happy…Happy, happy…” The Empty whispered as the black of its eyes slowly pulled back and blue appeared.

“He. He. He cooked for me? It still brings tears to my eyes whenever he does something for me.

‘Morning,’ I hug him from behind, inhaling the smell of soap and something I can never identify. It is so uniquely him, and it never fails to make my pulse spike. He leans into me with a chuckle. “Is that fresh bread I smell?”

‘Damn it. It was supposed to be a breakfast in bed. Sorry for waking you?’

‘You let me oversleep. Again.” The skin of his neck is so tempting I press my lips to it, marveling at its softness. “What happened?”

“Oh, you know me. I was thinking about everything we have to do today and – “

“And you forgot to put on mittens. Show me.” I reach for the hand he is keeping under cold water, but he swats me away.

“Nah, it's fine.” He tries to pull away but I hold him firmly.

“Dean,” I say in irritation. This man and his one-word vocabulary. If it were up to him, everything would fall under the word ‘fine.’ A red mark on his unblemished skin makes my stomach curl with anger. He got hurt under my watch.

“You are doing that thing again." Dean pokes my face playfully and chuckles. "You know, the one where you get all growly and possessive.” His ass pushes into my crotch, and my mind flashes back to last night. Even after all these years, he still manages to make me blush.

“You are insatiable.” I chuckle. He doesn’t even blink when I heal his finger.

“What can I say? I am a man of simple needs and vast hunger for a certain angel I know.” Dean looks at his finger with that smirk that usually comes before hours and hours of blessed, sinful fun. “I don’t know, Cas, this looks like a half-ass job. Old age is finally getting to you. You better kiss it to make it better.”

“Yes, I better kiss it before you lose your hand. The whole world would mourn the loss of these talented fingers and all the pleasures they brought to one very old angel.” Looking into Dean’s eyes, I slowly lick around his finger, enjoying the moment his pupils dilate. I suck it with the same tempo I sucked his cock last night and flicker my tongue around the tip. The moan that comes from him is full of need, and I know exactly the moment he will attack me. I taste coffee on his tongue, and I moan at the combination of its bitter taste and the sweet nectar of the man. It has become an aphrodisiac to me.

The hands-on my ass hold me tight, and I surrender completely. Whatever Dean wants. Whatever Dean needs. If he wishes, I would rip my grace and place it at his feet.

A loud squeal pierces my eardrums and destroys the moment. 

“Daaaaaads! That’s gross! Benny! Don’t come into the kitchen. They are doing the face thing again!” Charlie screams, hands over her eyes.

“Saved by the child,” Dean whispers in my ear, and I shiver. “Tonight, your ass is mine.”

“We’ll see.” I kiss his neck and turn to a tiny 10-year-old spitfire. “Morning, sweetheart. Go wake your brother, or you’ll be late to school again…”

 “The house around me blurs and I am back in bed." The Empty blinks and starts describing the dream from the beginning. "A loud crash wakes me…” 

The flashlight in Dean’s hand shattered under the force of his grip, and the light went out. He came here to fight. He was ready for it and had made his peace that he was probably not coming back. But this. Nothing prepared him for this.

It was on the third retelling that Dean found the strength to move.

“Jesus, Cas. You never said anything,” He whispered, the pain threatening to overwhelm him. But it quickly got pushed to the side by the overwhelming rage that the Empty was inside Castiel’s private dreams and hopes. It was the worst kind of violation - a rape. And there was nothing Dean could do.

With a shuddering breath, he pulled all the anguish, pain, and rage and shoved it behind closed doors, praying they held long enough. Or else he might do something truly stupid.

Oblivious to the world around it, the Empty droned on, using the same exact words every time it restarted the story. Dean would have cheered for getting the creature stuck and out of his way if there weren’t just one small problem.

According to the spell, the bastard was standing right over Cas. Somewhere underneath its feet, in all that black nothingness the angel was dreaming of …

“Don’t go there.” Dean reminded himself, dragging his mind to the here and now.

On and on, Dean walked around the talking statue, trying to find any kind of weakness, the need to scream in frustration growing with each lap. The angel was right there, but with the Empty in the way, he might as well be on the fucking moon. There was no way to get him out.

Unless.

Unless Dean went to him.

It was pure madness even to contemplate doing something like that. Dean chuckled at the thought of Sam’s face if he found out what he was about to do.

“Sorry, Sammy. I got an appointment with stupid ass Angel, and I am running late.” Dean said Deciding to risk it all on one last gamble, he closed his eyes and prayed. He prayed like he had never done before, pouring all of himself and the pain of living in the world without the angel.

Cas, I know you can hear me. I need you to remember the last time you saw me. Remember the bunker. You and me. Death banging on the door. What did you tell me? Please, Cas, remember what you told me. Remember what happened.

“I cared about Sam, I cared about Jack... I cared about the whole world because of you. You changed me, Dean.”

Hearing that voice, those words, it was agony. Slowly, Dean opened his eyes and tried hard not to attack the bastard. There it stood before him, the perfect replica of Castiel. Dean’s hands were inching to reach out and, inch by agonizing inch, peal the angel's face off it and inflict maximum damage.

“You raised your little brother for love. You fought for this whole world for love….”

“Common, you fucker hurry up and die.” "Dean growled through gritted teeth. Every word the Empty uttered in Castiel’s voice was like a knife through his gut.

“I love you.”

“Sure thing, buddy.” Dean stepped right next to the Empty, shivering from the cold radiating from it.

 “Goodbye, Dean.”

“Here we go.” Ready to be pulled down into the emptiness, Dean placed a hand on the creature’s shoulder and screamed in agony. Unable to hold on, he crumbled to the ground at the Empty’s feet, trying not to throw up from pain. His entire arm has turned a dark blue color.

“I wondered what it could be. What my true happiness could even look like.” Above him, the speech started again.

“Well, that didn’t work.” Dean groaned, cradling his arm, its color slowly returning to normal. Just once, he would have loved that things went easy. But no, it always had to be too fucking complicated.

“Goodbye, Dean.”

“OK. Plan B.” Cursing his luck, he staggered back to his feet.

“I wondered what it could be?...” The speech started again.

“Wakey-wakey, you fucker! Time to put me to sleep! I am awake here, making a lot of noise! Common suck me down, I am all ready and willing.” Dean waved his hand in front of the Empty’s eyes, but there was no reaction.

“I love you...”

“Wake up!” Dean screamed into its face.

“Goodbye, Dean.” The Empty paused, blinked, and started talking. “I wondered what it could be. What my true happiness could ....”

“Fuck!” Dean screamed in frustration, feeling a tingle in his stomach, signaling the spell's ending. “It's fine, all is fine. I have time. I’ll just have to piss it off. Easy.”

“I cared about Jack... I cared about the whole world because of you...”

The sound of a slap followed by Dean’s scream echoed throughout the empty like a tidal wave. Cradling his half-frozen hand, Dean stared in desperation as the black handprint on the Empty’s cheek disappeared in a second. It did not even blink.

He was out of ideas.

“Goodbye, Dean… I always wondered…”

Dean sat down in defeat. Once the spell expired, that was it. There would be no way to leave. He would be stuck here forever. In this wasteland of nothingness, an insane creature his only company, listening over and over to the speech he'd spent a year trying to forget.

“Goodbye, Dean…”

Death was the least of his problems. The thirst would kill him, and that would be that. But Castiel… The stupid angel would be stuck here remembering the last moment of… How the hell can that be his happiest moment? No matter how much Dean tried, he could not accept it. Not when it cost Cas his life. The stupid bastard went to his death with a smile.

“Goodbye, Dean…”

Dean touched the ground, wishing there was some way to at least say a proper goodbye.

“Because it is. I love you.”

“I love you too, my friend,” Dean mumbled. “I’ll see you in some other lifetime.”

Silence.

Dean looked up straight into the blue eyes, staring at him.

“Cas?”

A blink and the face cleared of all expressions. “Goodbye, Dean…”

Heart beating like crazy, Dean got up. That was Cas looking at him, no doubt about it. For a second, he had heard Dean.

“Of course,” Dean whispered, his mind racing. The Empty was irrelevant, its mind gone. The house, the children - it was all about Cas and his happiest moments. To reach the angel, Dean would have to play along. He would have to become part of the dream.

“OK, buddy. Whatever you need.” With a shaking hand, Dean pulled a silver ring of his thumb and let it fall to the ground. The spell hiding his face slid off his skin and dissipated.

“I cared about the whole world because of you. You changed me, Dean…”

With a shuddering breath, Dean walked up to the Empty, leaving but an inch between them.

“Because it is. I love you.” The Empty said.

“I love you, Castiel,” Dean whispered, touching his lips to the Empty’s.

The cold took his breath away.

He wanted to scream, to run, to curl on the ground and die from the agony as hands colder than ice went around him. The instinct to survive screamed at him to push the monster away, but he refused to move. His eyes wide open, he saw the moment the Empty turned into black liquid.

Inch by agonizing inch, it slid over Dean’s body, enveloping him in a cocoon. Like needles, the cold burrowed into him, steadily advancing toward his heart, which was slowing down by the second. He sank into the cold and darkness, fighting to stay conscious.

In the vastness of cold sludge, something solid brushed against Dean. The spell inside him flared, spreading a drop of warmth across his frozen limbs. With the last of his strength, he fought the black tar, clawing through it until his fingers closed around a hand.

Gotcha!

The cold plunged into his heart, and it stopped.

Chapter Text

The insistent beeping was really getting on Dean’s nerves, the high-pitched sound making his teeth ache. No matter how much he wished to go back to sleep, it was impossible to ignore it. On and on it went, stabbing his tired brain like needles, until with a great effort, he peeled his eyelids open and blinked in confusion at the large pink letters that read “World’s Coolest Dad.” In his hand was a black coffee mug with pink words on its side. It was an old thing, well used and nicked in a few spots, indicating years of history.

As his vision cleared, a kitchen came into view, and in wonder, he turned around, taking it all in. It was an open, bright space filled with sunlight streaming through a large window. For some reason, he felt at ease in this space.

If only the irritating beeping would stop.

There. The oven timer was going off. Eager to turn the damn thing off, he opened the oven door and reached his hand inside to grab the tray and stopped an inch from the piping hot metal.

Cas’ dream!

He ran out of the kitchen, straight for the stairs, and tripped on the first step when he saw the wall. Photographs covered the entire length of the staircases, extending all the way to the second floor. No two frames were alike. Different shapes, sizes, colors- each one unique. But, together, they worked perfectly. 

For a year, Dean banged his head against the wall, trying to understand what Cas’ last words meant. He heard the Empty describe the dream, and still, he refused to accept what it was saying.

Now he knew.

Here, it hung like a large tapestry, the chronicle of his and Cas’ life that had never happened. All across the wall, the photos told a story of love and companionship. It showed a happy family, a life Dean had only witnessed from afar - in strangers’ houses, on a TV. 

He could not take his eyes off Castiel, who gazed at Dean with such joy it was a miracle the entire wall did not glow. His eyes were full of happiness and a bit of shock as if he could not believe Dean was real. As if Dean was bigger than life itself.

A strange feeling stabbed Dean’s gut. Like an angry beast it grew, spreading into his hands, making them shake with the need to take the hammer to the wall. Startled by its force, he took a deep breath, trying to center himself and identify the emotion. Jealousy. Dean was jealous of the imaginary Dean - the phantom man who got to have something so perfect.

What would it feel like to be looked at like he hanged the stars? To be loved unconditionally, no matter his shortcomings. Cas knew him, in some ways better than Sam ever did, and still, he chose to build this dream world with Dean. Even though Cas was a friend, not to mention a man, Dean could not help the hunger that rose within him for the life in the photos.

He needed to know. He needed to experience it just for a second.

Against all instincts that screamed he was putting everything in jeopardy, Dean took a step back. And another and another. Down the stairs and back into the kitchen where, with a shaking hand, he pulled on a mitten and took the golden brown loaf of bread out of the oven.

The sound of a crisp crust breaking under the knife and the sweet smell rising with the steam sent him into a full-body orgasm. Impatiently, he blew on a small piece and shoved it into his mouth, cursing when it burned his tongue. Breathing around it, he waited for the right moment, and when the scorching heat became barrable, he had his first taste of the finest bread he had ever tried. An exquisite array of different tastes seamlessly worked together, making his mouth water for more. It was an impossible bread. Nothing like it could ever exist back in the real world. It was a slice of heaven made with love that tasted of safety and family.

A tear slid down Dean’s cheek. In wonder, he looked around the world Cas had built, his gaze settling on the clock that read 7:20 AM.

“Still sleeping.” He looked up like he might see the angel through the ceiling. One floor separated them, but Dean felt unwilling to rush upstairs and wake him. This house, this life…people like them could only dream of it, and Dean was reluctant to take it away from Cas.

He was nothing but an intruder, no better than the Empty. Was it wrong of him to do this? Yes, but he needed to know no matter how rotten he felt about it. Just a quick peek to see what it felt like. 

With utmost care, Dean cut two slices of bread and placed them on the snow-white plate next to eggs and bacon. As he poured coffee into the Cool Dad mug, he spied a jar of honey on a shelf.

“Why not,” He smiled, adding two spoons to the coffee.

The first time he rushed up the stairs, he missed a great many details. But now, as he carefully walked, his hands full, he almost tripped on the first step at the feeling of the soft carpet on his bare feet.

 “Damn,” Dean wiggling his toes in delight at the cloudlike softness. Every step was a pleasure, and he was tempted to lie down and bury himself in the material.

He climbed slowly, a large smile on his face that disappeared when a corridor opened up before him with three sets of doors, a different name on each one.

“Charlie, Benny, Dads,” Dean quietly read.

Balancing everything in one hand, he reverently touched the red letter C. Every atom of his being yearned to look inside and find what she looks like. Small nicks on the door frame, years written next to them, stopped at Dean’s waist. Who did she resemble? The real Charlie? Or was she a combination of Dean and Cas? Was she stubborn like Dean or aloof like Cas? What was her favorite food? Or a movie? Dean clutched the door handle, fear at what lay behind making him tremble.

“Not real, not real, not real,” Dean chanted, peeling his fingers off the doorknob. It took all his strength to turn away from it.

The Dads sign, crooked and pink, obviously made by the child's hands, brought a smile to his face. With a nervous swallow, afraid of what he would find, he opened the door.

***

Dean’s eyes roved the brightly lit space, taking in the swaying curtains, the pots and plants, the art on the walls, and finally landing on the sleeping figure. Heart beating like crazy, he placed the food on the nightstand and carefully pulled the cover of his face.

The hair was a bit longer, and the scruff on the chin was new, but it was him. Castiel, whole and unharmed, was sleeping on his stomach, cradling the pillow as if it might run away from him.

The relief drained the last of Dean’s strength, and he collapsed into an armchair at the foot of the bed. Finally, after a year, there he was. With the back of his hand, Dean wiped away a stray tear from his cheek, unable to look away from the small smile on the angel’s face. Cas looked younger. No, not younger... unburdened.

Dean gazed around at the little details of a shared life that were spread all over the room. His favorite shirt hung on the back of the door, a wristwatch he lost years ago on the nightstand, and his shoes in the corner of the room. Dean saw it all and hated it. Hated the other Dean as if he had stolen something from him.

“What’s wrong with you?” Dean muttered, swiped a hand over his face, shaken by the revelation. His dream of a white picket fence, 2.5 children, and a dog never included a man. Yet here he was, wishing to kill the imaginary Dean for touching what was his.

What was his?

He was losing his goddamn mind, sitting here like some sick pervert watching Cas sleep. Invading his dream, if it even was a dream. Stuck in the middle of the empty, who was to say all this wasn’t an elaborate nightmare designed to torture Cas.

Looking around at all the signs pointing at a happy life, Dean quickly discarded the idea. Even this room, with the warm breeze coming through the open balcony, was infused with a calm energy that seeped into Dean, soothing his nerves. He wanted to crawl into bed next to the angel and never leave.

The dream Dean must be a better person than him. Never in a million years would he be a reason for a peaceful smile that curled Cas' lips - a smile that slowly grew and transformed into a yawn. Stretching like a cat, Cas turned with a grown and looked at Dean. 

“Oh, did I oversleep again?” Cas rubbed sleep from his eyes, completely missing the way Dean jolted at the sound of his voice.

“No, you are right on time.” Dean swallowed around the lump in his throat and pointed at the nightstand. “I brought you coffee.”

Hair ruffled, sticking in all directions, still half asleep, Cas blinked at the breakfast in confusion, looking… adorable? It was Dean’s turn to blink in confusion at the thought. No matter how much the thought shocked him, there was no denying the fact that the smile that slowly bloomed across Cas' face made Dean's heart beat just a bit faster.

And when those blue eyes brimming with unconcealed adoration and love looked at Dean, his breath stuttered. They looked at Dean as if he had delivered the stars and the moon, not just greasy bacon and eggs.

“You are too good for me, Dean.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dean grumbled, making the angel laugh.

As Cas sat up, the sheet spilled into his lap, revealing miles and miles of skin. Dean’s eyes trailed the defined muscles that rippled underneath the skin, trying to ignore how much his fingers inched to touch them. The thought shocked him to the core. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined Cas as anything but a best friend. What the fuck was happening to him? This experiment has gone far enough. It was time to pull the –

The dirtiest, porn-like moan that came from Cas incinerated all thoughts in Dean’s head.

“Damn,” Eyes closed, Cas took another sip of coffee, purring in pleasure.

Who the hell was this half-naked creature lying in bed, moaning at the taste of coffee. It most definitely wasn't the angel Dean knew—the one who described food like molecules and thought human pleasures were an inconvenience.

Fear started creeping in, doubts that he might have had it wrong from the beginning. What if this dream, this version of Cas, was designed to keep Dean trapped in the empty? There was only one way to know for sure.

“How is the coffee?” Dean asked, a slight hitch in his voice, the only indication of how spooked he was.

“It’s perfect.” Cas smiled.

“Yeah? Describe it?”

“Huh?” Cas blinked in confusion.

“The taste, describe it to me.”

“Is this another of your games?” Cas' eyes crinkled over the rim as he drank.

“Indulge me, please.” While Dean’s voice was calm, his hands clutched the armrest until his fingers turned white.

“Hmm, let’s see. I can taste 350 flowers growing in the sunny meadow. I can taste the nectar, the soil nurturing them, the sunlight feeding them. As I said, it is perfect. I do not know why I never thought of adding honey. It makes coffee so much more interesting. Thank you, Dean. I do believe this is now my favorite drink.”

“Still the molecule-loving freak.” Dean sighed in relief. 

The sound of laughter caught Dean by surprise.

“What so funny?” Dean asked.

“You. That’s the same thing you told me when I complained that the wedding cake did not have enough unmelted sugar crystals.”

“A wedding cake?” Dean asked in shock, feeling like an idiot for not thinking of it. The house, children—of course, they got married. And damn if that didn't make his heart beat faster.

“The Wedding Cake.” Cas chuckled. “No idea how you found a baker crazy enough to make an apple pie of that size. And, yes, I still think it was the most ridiculous thing I have ever seen. I had to heal you two times because you would not stop gorging on it. ”

“Sound kind of perfect.” Dean smiled, trying to imagine it.

“Yes, it was. And you were one very, very handsome groom.”

Did Cas just wink at him? Dean tried and failed to pick up his jaw off the floor. Full of confidence, like it was something he did every day, the angel just flirted with him. There was no mistaking the hunger in the eyes that slowly checked Dean out, making him blush.

Dean was used to seeing that look from women, but this... this was next level. The deafening sound of his heartbeat filled his ears as blue eyes slowly traveled up his body, pausing over his crouch.

It should have been invasive, even offensive, to be looked like that by a man, but there Dean sat pinned to a chair, his dick pulsing in rhythm with his heart. When blue eyes finally looked into his, Dean was a breathless mess of confusion and need.

One step, that’s all it would take for Dean to cross the distance between them. 

It was too much. It was too fast. Dean blinked and looked away first, feeling a pang in his chest when the connection between them broke. 

“Tell me… Tell me more about the wedding.” Dean crossed his legs, trying to put a barrier between them.

Was it stupid to dig deeper into Cas’ fantasy after what was the most shocking, confusing, and single hottest moment of Dean’s life? Abso-fucking-lutely. Was he able to stop? No. The need to know about this life Cas had built with Dean’s clone obliterated all logic.

“The wedding? What is there to tell? You were there, remember. Well, in the end, you and Sam did get pretty trashed, so some memory loss is expected. But do you really want to rehash boring romantic memories of drunken dancing and Sam’s ridiculous long speech about bees and flowers, or would you rather I tell you the stories about our honeymoon?” Dean swallowed nervously at the positively wicked smirk on Cas' face.

“Which one would you like to hear? The one where you held my head and fucked my mouth until I came untouched all over your feet, or the one where you fucked me for hours on the balcony where anyone could have seen us.”

"Jesus, Cas," Dean muttered as Cas's hypnotic voice flooded his mind with image after image of intertwined bodies, lost in ecstasy.

Gracefully, Cas placed the cup on the nightstand and stretched his hands over his head, moaning softly as his spine popped. “I know! How about the one where you tied me to bed and tortured me for hours, not letting me come? Oh, how I begged you. I screamed your name until my throat was raw, and still, you denied me.”

Cas closed his eyes, his hands trailing over his chest, his stomach, and slid underneath the sheet. “You wicked man. It would have taken only a small part of my strength to rip that bed apart, but you knew I would never disobey your order.” Cas groaned.

Dean had a death grip on the armrests, trying to hold himself back from reaching out and tearing the sheet away. Who was this stranger who wore his friend's face and had so much confidence and sass he overwhelmed all Dean’s senses.

“God, you were like a man possessed. Your tongue on my nipples. The way you twisted and pinched them until I cried for mercy,” Cas groaned, licked his finger, and slowly circled his nipple.

Dean shook his head, trying to chase away the images, but it was in vain. They have taken root deep inside his body, making him painfully hard. With a shaking hand, Dean swiped away the sweat from his face, panting like he ran a marathon. Spellbound, he watched Cas’ hand move slowly below the sheet, and he burned with the need to see the whole of him. Was Cas long, thick, veiny, or smooth as silk?

“What are you doing, Cas?” Dean's voice shook as he covered his dick with the heel of his palm, pressing down, willing it to go away.

“Why don’t you pull the sheet off and find out,” Cas said, looking at Dean’s hand with so much heat in his eyes, it was a miracle Dean's clothes didn’t catch on fire.

Dean eyed the corner of the cover next to his knee like a venomous snake. This was insane. He should put a stop to this. Whatever was happening to him, this strange ache, it must be some kind of magic, or –

“Oh, Dean,” Head arched back, eyes closed, Cas moaned Dean’s name. His hand trailed over his abs, up his chest, and around his throat, squeezing tightly. “How you held me down with one hand. So much control. It was intoxicating.”

The chair underneath Dean groaned. Teeth biting his lower lip, pupils blown, lost in ecstasy, Cas was a sight to behold. Dean had never imagined the angel like this. It never even crossed his mind. But now… Cas was a drug he could not get enough of. He squeezed his painfully hard dick through his jeans, groaning at how good it felt.

“Those pants must be really uncomfortable. Why don’t you undo a button? Relieve some pressure.” Cas' low voice wound around Dean like a siren song. “Show me how much you hurt.”

Dean’s fingers pressed into the button, hesitating. “I… I can’t.”

The sunlight dimmed, throwing the room into an eerie half-darkness. Even the colors have disappeared, plunging the room into a black-and-white melancholy.

“Yes, of course. You are quite right. What was I thinking.” Cas quickly bundled himself into the sheet, not leaving an inch of skin exposed. Face red, he swung his legs to the side and stood up. “The kids will wake up soon. Go and finish the breakfast. I’ll take a quick shower and come in a moment.”

Dean did not have to wonder what happened. It was clearly written of Cas' crestfallen face. The eyes sparkling with mischief a second ago lay dead, a crease of worry between them.

Instead of joy shining through, there was only pain on Cas' face. Dean had snuffed it out with just two words because it frightened him. He orchestrated the whole thing, and when it became too much, he hurt Cas. In the end, he was no better than the Empty.

“Wait!” Dean launched from the chair so fast it toppled to the ground.

He meant to grab Cas' hand, stop him from leaving, explain, apologize. Instead, he tripped on the sheet that trailed behind him and fell onto Cas, trapping him against the door.

Pressed against the scorching heat of Cas' body, hot breath tickling his lips, Dean’s brain stopped working. There was something he was supposed to say about the Empty, the spells, the rescue. It all faded away into the background as Cas made that deep moan that went straight to Dean’s balls. Hyper-aware, he cataloged every sound, every twitch Cas made, relishing the fact that he'd caused them, the power intoxicating.

Dean pressed his hips forward and watched breathlessly as Cas' pupils dilated. It has never been like this. Not with anybody. Only Cas. He needed to see all of him, but the offensive cloth stood in the way.

“Touch me.” Cas spread his hands flat against the door, offering himself to Dean like a feast. “I dare you.”

Unable to resist the challenge, Dean grabbed the sheet and slowly pulled it, enjoying how Cas’ eyes fluttered as it slid across his skin. Unwrapped, like the finest present, he stood naked before Dean, confident and free. But his eyes, full of uncertainty and fear, betrayed how vulnerable he felt. He projected calm while waiting for Dean to reject him again. Right there and then, Dean made a vow never to bring pain to those beautiful eyes again.

Swallowing nervously, he rested his hand on Cas' chest and watched in wonder as sunlight broke through the clouds, landing around Cas like a halo. A shy smile lit his whole face with joy. Under Dean’s hand, Cas' heart raced like crazy, revealing how affected he was by a simple touch.

Nimble fingers worked the buttons of Dean's pants, slipped inside, and took hold of him in a tight grip.

“Fuck, Cas!” Touch-starved Dean was ready to come from the first slide of that perfect hand over his cook.

“If this makes your knees weak, my next trick will make your head explode.” Cas chuckled and presented his hand to Dean, “Spit.”

Has the world ever seen anything dirtier than the word spit passing over the angel’s lips? Surely not, because it would have ended right there and then. It was filthy. It was shocking. It was perfect. Dean spat on his hand and watched in a daze as Cas grabbed hold of them, squeezing their dicks together.

Maybe the world did end, and Dean was dead. Maybe this was some weird ass corner of the afterlife where you died overdosed on pleasure, only to wake up and die again and again and again.

The room spun around Dean as Cas’ iron-hard cock slid against his. A hand squeezed his hip, pulling him tighter against Cas, whose eyes were glued to the action below. Who the fuck was this beautiful creature before him? Where was he hiding for all this time?

Dean traces his thumb over Cas bottom lip, wondering what it would feel like to push his cock inside, feel all that heat surround him. And when that plump, kissable mouth stretched into a smile and tongue licked the tip of his finger, he was gone. Dean pushed into Cas' hand, which held them tight one last time and exploded, pulling the angel right along with him. Cas’ eyes rolled back, and with Dean’s name on his lips, he came all over them.

Trembling from powerful aftershocks of what might be the best orgasm of his life, Dean blindly searched Cas' mouth, needing the taste of the angel, but a hand on his chest stopped him.

“Dean, what have you done!” He looked in confusion at Cas' horrified face. “Your heart’s not beating!”

Dean saw the moment Cas made a decision, and as a powerful force slammed into him, he grabbed Cas’ wrist, his nails digging into the flesh.

“Gotcha,” Laughing like a maniac, Dean flew into the darkness, dragging screaming Cas along with him.

Chapter Text

“He is not breathing!.. Get the ….. Charging! ….There’s nothing… cold as ice….Hit him again.....Again!...... You bastard……You hear me ……. promised ……….. Breathe ……………………. Dean!

***

Blessed warmth. There was so much warmth surrounding Dean that he never wanted to wake up, but a slight creak broke the comfortable silence, and he opened his eyes.

“Hey, you are back.” Sam’s worried face hovered over him. “Jesus Dean. You are never doing that to me again. You hear me. Never again.”

“Cas?” Dean asked in a weak voice.

Something flickered across Sam’s face, too fast for Dean to identify. “He’s… all right. You got him out.”

“Good… good…” The relief that hit Dean made it really hard to hold his eyes open. But he mustn’t sleep. If he surrendered, he’d fall back into darkness and cold.

“Rest. You are safe.” A hand lightly squeezed his own, its warmth melting away the fear.

“Ok…Just for a min… ” Dean dozed off thinking about the perfect loaf of bread.

***

Dean woke up in his room, surprised Cas wasn’t beside him, but he didn’t dwell too much on it. Probably got bored watching him sleep, And sleep he did. If the date on his phone was correct, he had slept for two days. After an hour under the scorching hot shower, Dean walked into the library disappointed when he did not see Cas.

“How are you feeling?” Sam closed the book he was reading, scanning him from head to toe.

“Honestly, everything hurts like a motherfucker. Death would be a fucking awesome vacation right about now.” With a groan, he sank into a chair across from Sam.

“Don’t. Just.. Don’t even joke about it.” Sam choked out.

“Hey. I am good. It worked.” It was rare to see Sam this shaken.

“Sure, it worked until it didn’t work. You were dead for 20 minutes! Frozen like a popsicle. Not blue, not white. Black all over. I can’t even begin… If Cas didn’t wake up and heal you… Fuck, I’ll have nightmares for years to come.” Sam ran a shaking hand through his hair. 

“That bad... Sorry, Sammy. I have no idea what I’m even apologizing for. It not like-”

“Apology accepted.” Sam cut him off with a small smile.

“Smart ass,” Dean grumbled, trying to find a comfortable position when his body felt bruised all over.

“Moron.”

“So where is our fathered resurrection child? Watching Netflix again?” Dean looked around, expecting Cas to show up any second.

“He is gone,” Sam said.

“Gone…” There was a stabbing pain somewhere behind Dean’s ribs as the word echoed in his ears. 

“No. No! I didn’t mean gone gone. Jesus, Dean breathe! He is ok. He is alive.” If not for Sam's hand on his shoulder, he might have toppled over.

 “Dude! What the fuck is wrong with you? Why would you scare me like that,” Dean exclaimed as soon as he could breathe again.

“Sorry, I am pissed all right. I wasn’t thinking. Sorry. I meant to say he left. He healed you, and poof disappeared. He just looked at you funny, turned white like he’d seen a ghost, and flew away. I mean, talk about rude. Who ….”

Sam’s voice was drowned by a cacophony of noise in Dean’s brain. Thoughts overlapped, one over the other, images and feelings scrambled all together, creating a great big mess that screamed one word – Left.

“I mean, a thank you would have been nice. Or a simple ‘Hey, how are you? Long time no see.’ Nothing…”

Dean really wanted to hit something and release some of the anger slowly rising. A year of trying to get Cas out, and the first thing he did was leave. The shit they went through. Dean had to fly, on actual fricking planes, across half the globe to get all the ingredients. Most of it he spent in a lavatory throwing up and praying they don’t nose dive into the first mountain. And the bastard just left. If ever there was a competition for the best asshole move, Castiel would be a champion.

“I guess some really bad things happened to him out there. Maybe he needs to process. But still, who does…”

Dean must have done something, but for the life of him he could not think of anything bad that had happened. Maybe he did something wrong. Maybe he hurt him in some way.

From the moment he’d entered Cas' dream, it was like he had crossed into an alternate reality that featured all the things he didn't know he wanted. And one really horny angel he never knew he needed. But once he had his hands on him... Cas was beyond beautiful, lost in pleasure... so wild and free. It was as if a great big veil had been pulled from Dean’s eyes, and he saw Cas clearly for the first time.

“… the alien pulled out a giant probe and resurrected Elvis, who started belting My Heart Will Go On out of his ass.”

“Sure,” Dean mumbled.

“You didn’t hear a word I said,” Sam said.

“No, I’m listening – anal probe, Elvis, Celine Dion… Wait, the fuck are you talking about?”

Sam exhaled tiredly, shaking his head. “You want me to whip you up something to eat?”

“No, no, I’m good.”

“Now I am really concerned. You never refuse food. What the hell happened out there? What did you see.” Sam asked.

Dean thought about the sweet smell of bread, the small nick on the rim of a coffee cup, and the ray of sunshine on Cas' smiling face. “A perfect life.”

“A perfect life? That…Hmm, I did not expect that. You wanna elaborate?” Sam asked. 

“No. I think I’ll keep this one for myself.” Dean said, looking anywhere but at Sam, as his face burned with the memories of everything that had happened in the empty.

“Oh… I see. Right then. I’m gonna go grab us some beer. Have a feeling we’ll need them,” Sam walked off laughing.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Dean said, even though he knew it was a losing battle.

“Whatever you say!”

“Dick!”

“I heard that!” Sam shouted from the corridor.

It wasn’t often that he needed to remind himself he loved his brother and killing him would be bad. Although at this moment he could not really remember what would be so bad about it.

“Damn it, Cas,” Dean whispered, rubbing a hand over his face tiredly. He did not know if he was more angry Cas had left or worried that something had happened to him. Maybe getting him out of the empty had hurt him in some way. What if the Empty was pursuing him, and he ran before it could get him? No, it was impossible. The damn thing could not enter this plain. There was no danger. The plan was bulletproof. So why did he leave?

“Here,” he jumped when a cold bottle touched his shoulder.

Dean was peeling the sticker on his second beer when he found the strength to ask. “You ever think about…” but he could not finish the sentence.

“Hanging up the sword?” Sam said.

“Yeah.”

“Christ, all the time.”

“And then what? You think we are capable of domestic life? I can’t string two nights of peaceful sleep. A month in some domestic bliss, and my head would explode. One way or the other, I’d probably end up bringing the whole thing down.” Dean said.

“It is possible. Let’s say it happens. So what. Then, you rebuild everything from the ground up and push on. Isn’t that what we’ve been doing all these years? We fall, and we get back up.”

“Shit, man, you can’t call what we do rebuilding. We put duct tape on it and hope it holds until the next apocalypse hits.”

“True. And we are still here.”

“Sounds easy when you put it like that. But..” Dean trailed off, the silence painful.

“But he left,” Sam said.

“Motherfucker left!” Dean hit the table so hard it was a miracle he didn’t break any bones. He rubbed the spot that was surely going to have a magnificent bruise in a few hours and eyed Sam warily. “You do not look surprised by any of this.”

“Because contrary to what you might think, I am not an idiot,” Sam laughed.

“Yeah, the jury is still out on that. How long have you know, because I sure as shit had no idea.”

“Since he was taken by the empty,” Sam said.

“Bullshit! Now you are just pulling my leg.”

“Dude, have you seen yourself this past year? He was gone, and you checked out. You spent a week locked in your room, and just when I thought it was time for intervention or at least a shower, you emerged like a raging bull. And stayed like that for a year! Yeah, fun times.” Sam snorted sarcastically.

“I was driven.”

“You were an asshole on a mission. And god help all who stood in your way.” Sam said.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Dean grumbled.

“Really? Did you forget the guy in Peru? The one you shot in the foot.”

“Yeah, well, he was a dick!”

“I don’t know if he was, but he did dare say all angels are dicks and can burn in hell.”

“Like I said, a dick. In the end, it doesn’t mean anything. I would have done the same if you were taken, and you know it.”

“Sure. Sure…but I am family.” Sam said.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Is Cas, all of a sudden, not a family?” Dean was inching to punch something again, preferably Sam’s face.

“Dean, that's not what I meant-” Sam lifted his hands in a sign of surrender.

“Don’t Dean me. Just say what you are really thinking. He betrayed us so many times that you just want to punch him in the face, all the time. But you don’t because the bastard doesn’t feel the pain, and how can you punch him when he looks at you with those sad puppy eyes? So you forgive and forgive, and when you finally let your guard down, the fucker goes and does it again. Makes a fucking deal. And dies. Like he never learned anything. And you are left there thinking, who is the fucking idiot now. The moron who keeps running head first into trouble / doing the same shit every single time. Or the idiot who keeps forgiving. I don’t know, Sammy, if that doesn’t scream family, I do not know what does.”

“But he is a bit more than that,” Sam said quietly.

“What? No! Of course not. Definitely not. Maybe. Yes. Shit! I have no idea.” Dean groaned and let his head fall on the table.

“Daaaamn, you have it bad.” Sam cleared his throat, trying to hold in the laughter. “Just so we are clear, this is a temporary truce. Once it’s over, I’ll be using this shit for years to come.”

“Oh, I’m really happy my midlife crisis is entertaining for you.” Dean tiredly lifted his hand and folded all the fingers except the middle one, making Sam snort.

“A midlife crisis? Is that what we are calling it?”

“You got a better explanation. I am a forty-year-old beat-up fart who woke up one day and decided he was into dicks. What’s next? A fricking red Corvette!”

 One look at Dean’s panicked face, and Sam burst out laughing. “Oh, this is priceless! I should be writing this down.”

“That’s it, I’m done. Excellent pep talk. I feel all better now. You should definitely think about doing this professionally. I’m sure you’ll singlehandedly raise the rate of suicides on a global scale.” Dean stood up to leave, but Sam grabbed his hand.

“Wait, I am sorry. I’ll stop, ok. All done.” Sam whipped away tears from his face, still chuckling. 

“Asshole,” Dean opened another bottle and chugged half of it. “Glad one of us is enjoying himself.”

“I know. I know, but seriously, now. You are really overthinking something that's quite simple.”

“Dude, name one thing that is simple in the shitshow that is my life right now,” Dean said.

“You said it yourself - a perfect life.”

“Damn it.” Dean sighed a small smile, lifting the corner of his mouth as he remembered all the photographs on the wall. “It looked pretty fucking perfect.”

“So… You want it?” Sam asked.

I….” The automatic 'I can’t' almost slipped from his lips, but then he remembered the look of complete devastation on Cas' face when he said those words to him. The way darkness crept into the room, Dean was sure the Empty almost got them both because he was too afraid to be happy even for a second. No more. “Yes, I do.”

“Well then, the only thing left to say is - finally,” Sam said.

“You little shit.” Dean chuckled.

“Love you too, Dean.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Just saying the words out loud felt strange, but there was no ignoring how light he felt all of a sudden. “Hm… one last hunt? That doesn’t sound so bad. ”

“I’ll drink to that,” Sam taped Dean’s bottle with his and took a sip.

“You want to join me?” Dean asked after a pause.

“I reckon you got to do this one on your own,” Sam smiled.

“I think so, too,” Dean said, knowing he was blushing again. “Keep the bunker warm until we come back.”

“We’ll see. I might give a shot at this ‘perfect life’ of my own. I can’t let you have all the fun.”

“Good. That’s real good.” Who would have thought they would have ever survived long enough to contemplate a civilian life. Yet here they were. Life does work in mysterious ways when Chuck isn’t there to fuck it all up. “Now, tell me, you remember where we stashed the holy oil?”

“Holy oil? Oh, I will pray for Cas. I’ll pray he survives whatever crazy plan you’ve just thought of.” Sam said.

“Oh, it’s going to be glorious.” Dean chuckled darkly.

“All right, Casanova. Just make sure you don’t scare the man off before you get the chance to profess your undying love.”

“Sammy, I love you, but I will shoot you in the face if-”

“Yes, yes. This way, lover boy, the oil is in the dungeon.”

Dean got up to follow Sam, but a familiar stirring in his stomach made him stumble in surprise. This nervous flatter before a hunt was something he hadn’t felt in a long time, back when life used to be simpler. Back when he actually looked forward to a hunt.

An image flashed before his eyes of plump lips sucking his thumb, the challenging gleam in Cas' eyes just before he lost himself to the orgasm, and the feeling slowly sank lower, making his dick twitch.

“Run, little angel, run as fast as you can,” Dean whispered, his whole body vibrating in anticipation, ready to hunt.

Chapter Text

The doors of the club opened, and a laughing couple emerged. Young and in love, they strode down the street, oblivious to the danger stalking them. Judging by the amount of alcohol on their breath, Pete was surprised they could even walk. Fresh and full of life, they were a prey he had always dreamed of, yet still, he hesitated.

“We’re not supposed to be here. The master ordered not to venture into the city.” Pete hissed at the shadow beside him.

“And how is he going to find out? You gonna tell him, boy?”

The contempt in Dave’s voice left a bitter taste in Pete’s mouth, making him burn with the need to rip out the throat of the older vampire. But the instinct to survive was stronger, so he hunched lower, trying to appear smaller, intimidated. After years of navigating the dangers of the nest, it was now second nature to him.

“No, of course not. But, what if… what if we attract the attention of hunters? Master said-” Out of nowhere, a fist slammed into the side of his head, and he swayed, wondering what hit him as a high-pitch ringing in his ear drowned all other sounds.

“Master, this, master that! What are you, his lap dog? You think if you lick his balls, you’ll rise in the ranks. Stupid mutt.” A hand around his throat slammed him against the wall with so much force his skull cracked.

“Just because he is our maker does not mean he gives a flying fuck about what happens to us. And I had it enough with his orders. A master? He is nothing but a coward hiding in his dark hole from pathetic humans. No more. No more diseased beggars, whores, and junkies. Tonight, we’ll have the proper meal that we deserve. With or without you. So what will it be, boy? You in or you out?”.

A hand shook him like a puppet, and he knew one wrong step and Dave’s putrid breath would be the last thing he felt before certain death.

 “I…am in,” Pete choked out, hating how weak he sounded.

“And they say you are stupid as tic. That’s my boy. Now we hunt.” Dave laughed victoriously and ran out of the darkness straight at the man’s neck, sinking his teeth into the flesh.

As the screams broke the silence of the ally, making Pete’s blood boil with the need to feed, an odd sense of trepidation came over him. He looked around the alley, but there was no one there but his brothers and the poor souls who wandered down the wrong street. Shaking away the unease, he whipped away the blood dripping from his ear and joined the others.

***

How the woman managed to last for so long, Pete would never know. The others played with her for three days. Decades ago, he had accepted he was a monster, but he had never embraced it. This level of cruelty was a normal occurrence in the nest, but it had never appealed to him. Where was the logic in torturing the food before consuming it. All those fear hormones coursing through the body just made the taste sour.

Maybe others were right. Maybe there was something wrong with him.

There were three of them - Luke, Mike, and fucking Dave, all part of a bigger nest, all dissatisfied at how it was run. Always arguing for bigger hunts, for more blood, and Dave was the worst of them all. It was because of him that they were now launching around this abandoned house that smelled of mold, drunk on blood instead of following the orders from up high.

“Damn, that bitch had some good pipes on her,” Dave moaned, clutching his dick. He was sprawled across a beat-up sofa, blood still dripping from his chin. “I say next time we hit a family. A big one. At least four kids. It’s been ages since we sampled kids.”

“Fuck yeah, they are the best, especially when they try to run,” Mike laughed, sounding more like a pig than a man.

“Nah, man, running is for amateurs,” Luke spoke in that condescending voice as if he were superior to everyone else. Always lecturing, dispensing advice as if he knew everything. Sure, he was the oldest, but only in this room. Back at the nest, he was a nobody. A low-ranking foot soldier just like the rest of them.

Here, he talked with his hands, waving them around like it helped make him look intelligent. Pete always suspected he picked up the mannerism from some stupid ass show from the 80s. God knew if nobody reminded him to eat, he would starve glued to the TV. The guy was lazy as fuck, hated to move for anything.

“What you need is patience." Luke continued, "Patience and good planning will bring a meal right to your doorstep. Like home delivery.”

“Really? That really works?” Mike asked, looking around like an answer would pop out of a wall.

Poor Mike. He must have been someone’s mistake. The old ones usually avoided turning people that weren’t quite all there. The only thing keeping him alive was his usefulness - the amount of violence Mike could doll out was legendary. The problem was getting him angry. The man was more like an inbred puppy that lived to please but lacking in intelligence.

“Fuck no, of course, it doesn’t work. Luke is a lazy bastard who didn’t move from that spot until we brought the bitch here. What’s next? You want us to hand feed you.” Dave spat on the floor with contempt. If Luke wasn’t older and stronger, Dave would have killed him decades ago.

“Well, that, I haven’t tried that yet. Oh, do be a darling and do that next time.” Luke batted his eyes at Dave, making him fume. “But wash your hands first. I don’t want your filth to contaminate my feast. Mike, did you know they had virgins spoon-feed the kings of the-”

“Guys, you hear something,” Pete’s hiss stopped Dave in mid-launch, his fist an inch from Luke’s smiling face.

The house had been their secret spot for months. Pete knew all the sounds it made intimately, but there was something that did not belong at the edge of his hearing.  

“Is that …whistling?” Mike asked, sucking on his bloody fingers like they were lollipops. Pete vividly remembered how the idiot once forgot they were his fingers and bit a huge chunk of them. It took him six months to grow them back.

“Bah, probably a bum. The city is crawling with them. Like cockroaches,” Dave spat on the floor between Luke’s feet and sank back on the sofa, “They are everywhere.”

“What is that? Britney?” Mike tilted his head, trying to hear better.

“Britney? What are you 2?” Luke hissed in indignation like he was slapped.

“No, I’m not 2,” Mike exclaimed. “I am… 5.”

“5? A baby vampire,” Dave laughed so hard, blood spraying out of his mouth.

“Fucking Britney. It’s Rolling Stones, you ignorant shit.” Luke stood up and walked toward the boarded window. “I’m surrounded by children.”

“I am not a child. I killed more people than… than you have ever seen…Rolling what?” Mike asked, looking around for the answer.

“Buddy, it’s like asking what's a moon. It’s general fucking knowledge. Didn’t they teach you anything in school?” Dave mumbled, trying to rub off a bloody stain on his shirt, only succeeding in making it worse.

“Hey! I can read!”

“But can you write?” Dave hollered with laughter.

Tuning out their bickering, Pete joined Luke at the window. The house they were in was at the end of a dead-end street in a derelict neighborhood, not a soul alive for a mile in any direction. With just a few street lamps working, it was a perfect hideout.

Peering through the gap between the boards, it took a second for Pete to locate him. He was a silhouette shrouded in darkness that not even his vampire eyes could penetrate. A faceless figure walking in the middle of the road, whistling without a care in the world.

“Time is on my side, yes it is,” Luke quietly sang. “I love that song. The bugger has a good taste.”

“Nobody supposed to be here. You think Master sent him? He must’ve found out what we are doing here,” Pete looked at Luke, fear making his left eye twitch. He really did not want to die today.

“Nah. If he knew, we’d all be dead already. It’s just a bum, probably drunk out of his ass. Wondered down the wrong street.” Luke’s voice was all confidence, but there was no ignoring the unease that rolled through Pete’s gut. No matter how much he squinted, he could not see the man’s face or anything that would signal danger. Yet the closer he got, the more nervous Pete felt.

“The fuck is he doing?” Luke said in surprise when the man stopped in front of their house, the whistling so loud it seemed as if he were in the room with them.

“He’s just standing there.” Pete felt all the hairs at the back of his neck stand up, the part of his brain that saw everybody as prey, strangely silent. “Can he…He’s staring right at us.”

“No way. Nobody knows about this place.” Luke whispered.

“Holy shit!" Mike exclaimed excitedly, making them jump. "Home delivery!” 

“Fuck me sideways, the old man was right,” Dave walked to the entrance. “Well, boys, it seems dessert has come to our doorstep.”

As he opened the door the entire house groaned with a long, moaning sound that made Pete’t teeth ache.

With arms wide open, Dave smiled at the stranger, “You lost friend. Why don’t you come in…”

Something flickered in the night, pulling Pete’s eyes back to the man. There. A light reflected on something metallic in his hand, which was slowly raising and-

“A grenade launcher!” Luke screamed, and time slowed down. Like in a dream, Pete watched detached as fire erupted from the cylinder, and the grenade buried itself in Dave’s chest.

“Cunt-” Dave exploded with a look of surprise, pieces of wood and body parts raining in all directions.

A wall of fire hit Pete and flung him into the wall, the sound of bones breaking ringing in his ears. For a second, his vision darkened from pain, and he screamed when he tried to move his leg. His vision cleared, and he cursed at the piece of Dave’s bone sticking out of his thigh. A crunching sound drew his attention upward, and he swallowed in fear as a tall figure walked through the ring of fire where the door used to be.

Pete could do nothing but stare in shock when, out of nowhere, Mike launched at the man with a blood-chilling cry that was cut off when his head went flying.

Luke lasted longer.

Back burned, pieces of shirt on fire, he managed to land one hit. He lost a hand first, then his head, which rolled across the floor, stopping inches from Pete, the face frozen in a look of horror.

Paralyzed, Pete sat unmoving as whistling death drew closer, a trail of blood in his wake. As the fire licked up the walls, pieces of wood raining all around them, the only thing Pete could hear was the dripping of blood from the machete in the man’s hand.

Pete swallowed and made himself look up into the eyes of his killer. He expected to see terrible rage and madness, but when their eyes finally met, there was only boredom staring back at him.

If Pete was human, he would have pissed himself.

“You are alive! Excellent. For a second there, I was afraid I overdid it with the launcher. Puff, lucky me.” The voice was deep and full of humor that was like a slap of cold water.

“You have no idea what you’ve done. The hell… that will be unleashed on your ass, hunter. They will tell stories of your death. You will never be safe. We will hunt you-”

“To the end of the world, blah blah blah.” The hunter exhaled tiredly, looking at the ceiling, “Give me patience. How are you going to find me if you are dead?”

“The master will-”

“I have a feeling you were not supposed to be here. Somebody was a bad, bad boy. What will Daddy do when he finds out? Are you curious? I’m curious!” The man pulled up his sleeve and slashed his forearm. “Let’s find out.”

Pete chased the blood that dripped on his face, the stranger forgotten in his frenzy to feed. Bones snapped back into place, wounds closed and healed, leaving him panting in shock.

“Run along, little vampire.” The man waved goodbye and walked into the fire. 

Screaming in pain and rage, Pete pulled Dave’s bone out of his leg and crawled through the hole where a window used to be. Coughing, he lay on the ground, exhausted, soaking in the blessed chill of the night. When the house groaned, its foundation shaking, he hightailed out of there. Week as a baby, he stumbled onto the street and watched in shock as the man walked away, a faint singing carried on the wind.

“Time is on my side, yes it is

'Cause I got the real love

The kind that you need

You'll come running back (I knew you would one day)

You'll come running back (like I told you before)

You'll come running back to me

Yeah, time, time, time is on my side, yes it is….”

The darkness embraced the hunter like an old friend, and he disappeared.

Pete wanted to scream at him and threaten him with bodily harm, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't open his mouth. The fear he’d come back and finish the job locked his jaw tight, making his teeth grind.

As the fire raged behind Pete, the smell of burned flesh making his nose sting, he wished he could mourn the others. But there was only relief that they were gone, bastards, every single one of them. And lucky, too, because when the Master finds out…

Pete’s fate was sealed. It would have been better if he had died with the rest.

No.

Even if death was coming his way, he would make sure it wasn't in vain. Pete swallowed the last taste of the man and laughed in triumph. Stupid fucker has given him blood. There’s no place on earth he could hide from Pete now. He’ll bring the wrath of the whole nest on the cunt’s head and die laughing, watching him beg Master for mercy.

Tall and proud, Pete limped away, oblivious to the small bit of plastic in his stomach that every few seconds sent a signal into the night.

Chapter Text

“Common already,” Dean murmured, watching a small dot on the screen make another circle around the building.

After three torturous weeks of meticulous planning and scheming, Dean was out of patience. Now, everything hinged on the vampires taking the bait. But as always, things did not go as planned. Oh no, of all the nests in the North American continent, Dean had to go and poke the most cautious one. If the stakes weren’t so high, he would have opened the window and started shooting at them from above.

“Patience, Dean, patience.”

There wasn't an ounce of doubt in his mind that what he was doing was next-level messed up, and chances were it would come back to bite him big time. Yet, oddly enough, he could not stop feeling… aroused. There was no other word that could explain why he was sitting on the second floor of an abandoned office building, waiting for vampires to kill him, with a semi threatening to turn into a full-blown hard-on.

No, he did not have a weird fetish about death or violence. It was the hunt that made his blood boil. The hunt and the prize that awaited him at the end of the rainbow - the big beige pot of gold with blue eyes. Oh, Cas will be furious when he realizes what Dean had done, but the choice was taken from Dean the moment he woke up alone.

Who knew life could actually be fun. Well, not Dean. Not in a long time. The food tasted better, the air was sweeter, and even the disgusting motel rooms did not bother him as much. Dean could not remember the last time he felt this alive. He almost felt sorry the hunt was coming to an end tonight.

“Damn it! Common, you cowards take the fucking bait.” Idly, he swung around in the old creaky chair, watching the rows of desks blur around him. He knew from the start that the launcher was overkill. The big gun might have been effective and fun to use, but it seemed it had backfired and spooked the vampires.

The quiet ping from his phone seemed almost too loud in the open space.

“Showtime.” As the chair turned, Dean watched with a growing smile the faces emerge from the darkness, forming a ring around him.

“Hunters are a rare breed of insanity,” The line opened, and a man in a suit walked toward Dean, “But you, my boy, deserve a medal.”

“Thank you. That means a lot coming from you,” Dean chuckled, assessing the vampire.

Short, fat, bold, with one of those faces people forget as soon as they look away. He was the most unvampiric-looking creature Dean had ever seen. Even the suit he was wearing was a disgrace – worn-out, faded material that was slightly larger than his chubby frame.

Dean had no trouble picturing him in his past life as a human, wasting away at one of these desks, always sweating and complaining about his problems to whoever had the misfortune to cross his path. The vampire that turned him must have been desperate or raving mad.

Yet there was no mistaking the power that oozed from him and the control he had over some 20 vampires that stood growling quietly around Dean. They put up a brave front, but Dean could clearly see that they were wary of him.

The leader grabbed a chair, letting it slide across the floor with a screeching sound, and parked his ass several feet from Dean, who was biting his cheek not to burst into laughter at all the theatrics.

“You killed three of my best men-”

“Those were your best? If you say so.” Dean leisurely inspected his nails.

“Do not interrupt me!” The vampire screamed. “You killed three-”

A gunshot echoed through the empty space, and the vampire’s head rocked back. A trickle of blood oozed from the hole in his forehead, the face a picture of shock.

“I am sorry to ruin what I am sure was going to be a really good villain speech. I mean, who doesn’t love those? But I really got a hot date to get to.” Dean said to the stunned silence, a smoking gun in his hand. “So, what do you say we skip the foreplay and go straight to the killing.”

With mild amusement, Dean watched as the hole in the vampire's head slowly closed, his face going through several emotions, finally settling on rage. With a scream, he launched at Dean only to smack straight into an immovable wall. A hand clamped around the vampire's neck, his feet uselessly dangling a foot off the ground.

“Hi, honey!” Dean waved at Cas, playing it casual, but inside, he was a raving mess of emotions.

The angel was right there, alive and whole, like the past year never happened. But it did, and all Dean wanted was to bury his nose in that stupid ass trench coat and inhale the angel until his nose bled. Then slowly peel it off… or maybe rip it. So many choices.

“Are you insane?” If looks could kill, Dean would've died a hundred times over from the way Cas glared at him.

“Why is everybody asking me that?” Dean asked the vampire, whose eyes were darting widely between Cas and Dean, looking as if he had finally realized he was fucked.

“Really? You pray to me for the first time in three weeks, and I find you alone, surrounded by an army of vampires.” Cas said in that sexy growl that haunted Dean’s dreams.

“And if I'd prayed to you, I don't know, the night you left, for example, would you have come?”

“That’s beside the point. Is this some kind of suicide attempt? Are you ok, Dean?”

“A suicide? By vampires? That you would think I have so little imagination… You wound me, Cas, right here.” Dean grabbed his chest. “My heart bleeds.”

“Cut the bullshit! What else could it be? After the… After the empty, what happened there-”

“Now, how did I know you would go there? Of all the possible explanations, your mind jumped straight to that one. You know what, sure, let’s go with that. What I saw in the empty was so horrifying that my mind could not take it anymore!” Dean cried out, slumped in the chair, the back of his hand on his forehead. “I just knew I had to end it all now. Anything was better than-”

"Stop!" Cas’ command was infused with such power that the vampire in his hand whimpered in fear.

“Huh. How did I not notice before?” Dean said, looking at Cas in wonder.

“What?” Cas asked, but Dean missed it, completely lost in images of angry Cas bucking underneath him. All those muscles flexing, fighting to throw him off, the body arching as he comes beautiful and wild, cursing Dean’s name. Dean bit his lip hard, trying not to moan out loud.

“How sexy you are when you are angry,” Dean whispered without a thought, and the anger in Cas' eyes turned to an inferno as his pupils dilated, pinning Dean to the spot. There was no doubt in Dean’s mind that a predator stared back at him, and it took all his will not to drop to his knees and beg to be devoured. He could almost touch the electrical charge that ran between them, making his balls beg to be touched. Anything to relieve the pressure.

“Excuse me-” The vampire croaked, breaking the connection.

“Shut up!” They yelled, furious at the interruption.

“What are you doing, Dean? What is all this?”

“Why don’t you stay and find out.” Dean winked at him and watched with delight as a slight blush bloomed across the angel’s cheeks. But his heart sank as Cas shook his head, the mask of indifference sliding back into place.

“No,” Cas said, and the fragile connection between them broke.

“This was really touching,” The leader hissed like an angry cat. “But it’s time for you to die.”

“Yes, it’s time to die.” Cas turned his cold eyes to the vampire and burned him from the inside out. In shocked silence, the vampires watched as their leader disintegrated into particles that drifted into the air.

“Huh, you’ve upgraded,” Dean grinned, enjoying the fireworks.

“It seems so.” Cas dusted off his hands and turned to leave. “It was good to see you-”

“Die demons!” A vampire with a familiar twitching eye and a limp screamed, and like a tidal wave, they all rushed them howling like rabid animals.

Dean jumped from a chair, turned, and braced his back against Cas’. Gun in one hand and a machete in the other, he grinned at the incoming vampires and let the battle fever take him.

Back to back, they were a well-oiled brutal machine that swirled, stabbed, and spun, delivering death. After years spent fighting side by side, he knew exactly where Cas’ every blow would land. There was no thought, only pure instinct. They were surrounded by growls, screams, and blood, yet somebody was laughing, and it took a second for Dean to realize it was him. He must have looked completely unhinged, judging by the horrified expression on the vampire’s face a second before Dean cut his throat.

Dean risked a glance back, checking on Cas. Their eyes met, and just like that, the connection between them flared back to life. Cas' lips curled into a feral smile, and with a spark in his eye that was missing for far too long, he stabbed a vamp in the eye.

After three weeks of uncertainty, Dean finally breathed a sigh of relief. That smirk on Cas' face was all the confirmation he needed that he did not make a mistake when he came up with this crazy plan. After all the shit Cas went through in the Empty, killing monsters, letting all that pant-up rage out was exactly what he needed.

Fuck it, they both needed it.

Out of nowhere, a fist slammed into his temple, and he stumbled.

“Dean!” A terrible howl rang through the building as Cas blocked a killing blow a millimeter from Dean’s face. Dean shook his head, whipping away the blood from his eyes, and stared in wonder as Cas punched through flesh and bone and ripped a heart right out of the bastard's chest.

It was brutal. It was unhinged. A normal person would be shaking, throwing up in disgust. Before him stood the unlashed power of a warrior angel, and in place of fear, there was only awe.

"Glorious," Dean murmured as he grabbed the offered hand and let Cas pull him up. "You having fun?"

“Maybe,” Cas whispered, and Dean found it hard to tear his eyes from the small tilt in the corner of his lips that was just begging to be licked. A thumb caressed his wrist, sending shivers up his hand and making him vibrate with need. A growl to his right returned the battle into focus, and he reluctantly let go of Cas.

“Good thing I didn’t choose plan A,” Dean murmured quietly as he chopped off the claw flying at his face.

“What was plan A?” Cas swiped the vampire's legs and sent him crashing to the ground.

“Flowers.”

“Flowers?” Cas looked at him in confusion, ignoring the vamp trashing under his foot. “Is this… a date?”

“Nooooooo.” Dean shot over Cas’s shoulder, caching a vamp in the mid-jump. They were so close that Dean could feel the heat coming from Cas, who gazed at him all seriously, waiting for the answer. Unable to resist, he leaned forward and inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering closed as the angel’s familiar scent transported him back to the dream house.

There were so many laugh lines around Cas' eyes as he slept peacefully bathed in a ray of sunshine, and Dean remembered how he wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life counting them.

One way or the other, he will have that Castiel. The angel who was so full of happiness that it made the house vibrate with light and joy the Empty could not touch. But not yet. Patience. The bait was set. He just needed to reel him in.

“It’s definitely not a date, Sweet Cake.” Dean winked at him and returned to fight.

“Do not call me that!” Cas growled and stabbed the vampire, clawing at his leg.

“How about, Sweet Pea?” Dean’s gun clicked empty, and he pulled another clip. Cas threw a knife at him and hit a vamp behind Dean. “Damn Pumpkin, you can just say you don’t like it. No need to throw sharp objects at me. That’s domestic violence.”

Cas growled something unintelligible, making Dean laugh. He blocked a fist coming at his face, swung a machete, and a head went flying into the dark. Dean whirled around, bracing for the next blow, but there was no one left. Only silence.

“Hell yeah!” Dean howled in victory.

More than a dozen vampires lay dead, and barely a scratch on them. Fighting by Cas' side was always a rush, but now, with all the tension simmering between them, it was a potent drug Dean could easily get addicted to.

“Damn, I didn’t think about the bodies. It will take me days to clean this shit up.” Dean swore, whipping the blood and sweat off his face. He barely finished the sentence when the bodies burst into flames and disintegrated.  

His jaw on the ground he slowly turned to Cas. “Let me guess, you could have done that from the start.”  

“I needed exercise.” For a millisecond, those laugh lines made an appearance, and Dean’s heart soared. If the entire plan went to shit, at least he had achieved this small victory.

“Soooo-” Dean began flicking away a piece of flesh from Cas’ shoulder.

“Enough Dean.” The cold mask slid back into place. Dean knew it was coming. He prepared for it. And still, it hurt like a son of a bitch.

Hell, Dean orchestrated all this elaborate Mission Impossible crap because Cas was so goddamn predictable. It was always gonna be easier for him to confess his feelings and conveniently be whisked away into a black hole than stay and face the consequences.

“I don’t know what your plan was, but it’s over,” Cas said, bending down to pick up his blade.

“Oh honey, this has only just begun.”

As Cas stood up, a foot slammed into his chest, and he stumbled backward. A lit lighter arced through the air, striking the ground with a sharp chime, and a ring of fire erupted around him.

“Dean?” It was hard to see the shock and betrayal on Cas' face, but he steeled his heart and turned away.

“Let me out NOW!” Dean whirled around as the building shook, expecting to see that the containment had failed, but the fire continued to burn.

The thunderous rage on Cas' face promised retribution, but as Dean walked away, it wasn’t fear that put a spring in his steps. It was anticipation.

“Bring it,” Dean murmured and let the door slam shut behind him.

Chapter Text

Impatiently, Dean tapped his fingers on a steering wheel, his eyes glued to the timer. For some reason, the damn thing was impossibly slow, every second feeling like a lifetime.

01:10

A minute until Cas broke free.

Everything had gone smoothly, a truly rare occurrence in his line of work. The only problem was that he couldn’t shake a feeling that he might have overdone things a tiny bit. He might have walked out of that building all cocky and confident, but one look at Cas' face was enough to plant seeds of doubt. The pain he saw there wasn’t part of the plan.

00:30

Reflexively, he looked around the parking lot, checking for danger, only to wince when he saw his reflection in the rearview mirror. Bloodshot eyes greeted him like an old friend, the bags underneath them probably visible from space. A good night's sleep was but a distant memory, and given the way things were unfolding, it was unlikely to happen in his near future.

00:00

The timer flashed two times, signalling the containment around Cas had crashed, and Dean’s blood pressure skyrocketed. The damn thing merrily continued counting on unbothered that everything hinged on the next few minutes.

 “Common Cas,” Absentmindedly, he gulped down his fourth coffee, trying not to squeeze the life out of the plastic cup.

- 00:45

“Three minutes, you bastard, that’s all I’m giving you,” Staring into the phone as if it might magickly show him what Cas was doing, he barely tasted a lukewarm smudge.

- 01:00

Like a poisonous seed, a thought wiggled its way into his mind, and try as he might, he could not dispel it. For 21 days, he managed not to think about it, and now, of all places, it decided to pop up - What if Cas did not show up?

- 02:00

“Damn it,” Life without the angel unfurled before him, a bland and colourless future in which he would turn on the ignition and drive straight back into the tedious routine of weekly hunts.

- 02:35

A future in which he would pretend three little words did not create a chasm in the middle of his life, taking away a year of sleep.

- 03:00.

He scanned the area in case Cas landed close, but amidst the crowd of families, there wasn’t a glimpse of a brown coat. Dean had his answer - Cas was a no-show.  

“Fuck!” The car shook as he pummeled the steering wheel with his fist, the horn blaring with each strike. They say hope dies last, but Cas sure slaughtered, salted, and burned it for good measure with his stubbornness.

As a family of five passed in front of the Impala, looking at him warily, he forced himself to smile and wave. He must have appeared deranged because the parents swiftly grabbed their kids and hurried away, glancing back to make sure he didn’t follow them.

- 04:00

“Fuck him,” Blinking away the sting in his eyes, Dean grabbed the key, not wanting to spend a moment longer in the place that was meant to be their -

A wall of ice-cold water slammed into him, and his head painfully collided with the side window. In a second, the inside of the car was submerged, with not a bubble of air left. Blindly, he clawed at the door, trying not to panic as his lungs started to burn. Just when the pain in his chest became unbearable, he felt the handle underneath his hand and pulled. The doors opened, and the flood burst out of the car, pulling Dean out like a piece of driftwood. Dazed, he lay sprawled on the concrete, blinking at the sky as water sloshed around him.

“What the hell… was that?” Coughing out water, he propped himself up on his elbows and looked inside, straight into ice-cold eyes. Biting his cheek, he slowly laid back, trying not to scream like a little girl. Cas actually came. Sure, he was royally pissed, but Dean could work with that. He only needed to play it cool, not push, and most definitely not rip his clothes off and have him right here and now. On the other hand, the fine for public indecency wasn’t that high. He could afford it.

No, that would definitely push the angel away.

Slow and steady.

Groaning, Dean pulled himself back into the car, trying not to cry when the soaked seat made a rude noise. He slammed the door closed, looking everywhere but to his right.

“My poor baby, what has the bad angel done to you,” As always, a stupid joke was the first thing that came out of his mouth, and he flinched, expecting an explosion from Cas, but there was only silence. He chanced a glance to the right, but Cas had not moved a muscle since he landed. Like a statue, he sat there soaked to the bone, staring at Dean, looking like he was imagining different ways of killing him.

“What took you so long?” Acting casually, Dean swiped the water from the dashboard.

 “You … trapped… me.” Every word was pushed through clenched teeth, the whole car vibrating with Cas’ anger.

“For three hours. That’s nothing. A blink of an eye for you. Actually, three hours and four minutes. Now, what were you doing with those extra minutes?”

“You left!” The window next to Cas cracked in the middle, and Dean saw red.

“Hey! Punch me in the face, or better yet here, break my arm. Hell, break as many bones as you want, but stop taking it out on Baby! And you’re the one to talk, you hypocritical asshole, you left me twice! No, actually, what is this? The seventh or hundred and seventh time you decided I was better off without you. But who’s counting.”

“Is this a revenge? You wanted a payback, so you decided to, what? Toy with me like the Empty.”

“The fuck did you just say to me? Screw you, angel.” Dean squeezed the steering wheel, imagining it was Cas’ neck. He took a deep breath, trying to find a semblance of control before he said something he could not take back. “No, it wasn’t a revenge. I wanted… No. I needed to see you. A year and the first opportunity you had, you fucked off and disappeared. What was I supposed to do? Was it a tiny bit extreme? Maybe. I’ll give you that. But it worked. Got your attention, didn’t I.”

Cas huffed and stared ahead in silence.  

“Deny all you want, but you totally had fun back in the city,” Dean said, trying to find something positive.

“Before or after, you trapped me in a burning oil.”

“Jesus! For the last time, I wanted to attract your attention, so why not have some fun with it? I thought, what would be entertaining for a warrior angel? Easy mayhem and monsters. Perfect combo.”

“It was ok,” Cas said, still not looking at him.

“It was more than ok.”

“Fine, it was fun.”

“It was awesome. We mortal combated their asses to dust in, like, 2 minutes flat.” Was Dean imagining it, or did Cas just smile? For a second, he could have sworn he'd seen a small upturn of his lips.

“You rigged the fire sprinklers?”

“Of course. I set the timer for three hours. That’s how long I needed to get here. And before you ask, yes, that was the closest nest I could find. It’s a miracle I am not rotting in some cell for reckless driving.” Dean tapped the dashboard affectionately. “I knew you’d be angry, but I didn’t expect you’d try to smite me with a flood. Nice touch. Real Noah of the Ark move.”

“You told me never to enter a friend’s house empty-handed. I thought 140 gallons of stale water would be a nice gift.”  

“Sure was.” Dean bit his lip, holding in the curse, when he saw a steady stream coming out of the glow compartment.  

“Your face, Dean. Priceless.” Cas smirked.

“Glad to be of service.”

“Dean?”

“Cas?”

“Did you poke a nest of vampires to get me to a parking lot in the middle of nowhere?”

“It is a very nice parking lot. Look, there's even green stuff.” Dean pointed at the small row of bushes in front of the car.

“You are an idiot.” Cas shook his head. “I really-”

“Can I tell you a little secret?”

“What?” Cas exhaled tiredly.

“You have a tell. I know exactly when you are about to fly away.”

“Nonsense. Human eyes can’t-”

“Your left shoulder twitches when you unfurl your wings.” Slowly, as if Cas were a wild animal ready to bolt at any moment, Dean raised his hand and placed it on his shoulder. “And right now, it's twitching like crazy.”

“Dean, I-” Cas broke off, his eyes closing when Dean gently squeezed, massaging the tension out of him.

“Let me say what I need to say, and after, if you still want to leave, I won’t stop you. No more scheming, no crazy plans. We’ll go our separate ways. Can you do that for me?”

“Ok,” Cas said in a small voice.

“Back in the Empty, in your dream house. When I first got there, I rushed upstairs to get you, but I got stuck on the staircases. Damn, there must have been over forty photos of us. At first, I dismissed them. Just some dream nonsense. I was about to continue on when one coughed my eye. A ridiculous red frame, paint peeling off the edges. It looked older than the rest. I must have stood there for hours just staring at it.

“We were standing underneath a huge banner, laughing, my hand around your shoulder. There was nothing special about it, but the more I stood there, the more it felt like I was looking at two strangers I’d never met before. And for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why. Until it finally dawned on me - we looked unburdened. Like the years and years of crap that was weighing us down were just… gone.

“That’s when I turned around, went back to the kitchen, and made you breakfast.” He chuckled, remembering how he'd almost burned his hand in the oven. “Anyway, it took me a while to locate where the photo was taken.” Dean watched with trepidation as Cas' eyes followed his pointed finger, and he slowly turned to his right.

“Oh,” A small sound escaped Cas, and Dean hated that he could not see his face.

“I thought it would be a perfect place for a…” A sudden tightness in his throat made it hard to speak. How ironic that he had no problem taunting a bunch of vamps, but now, when it mattered the most, words failed him. “Well, you know.”

“I don’t understand,” Cas’ breath left a trail of mist on the glass.  

“Yes, you do.”

“Ask me.”

“You’re really gonna make me say it.”

“Please, Dean. You and me… I am tired of… misunderstandings. I need to hear you say it.”

“Fair enough. Shit. Ok, I can do this.” Dean cleared his throat. “Cas, would you like to go on a date with me?”

There was no answer, no movement, no reaction at all. Cas sat there like eyes closed, projecting cold indifference, but to Dean, he was an open book – he was ready to bolt. Dean had pushed him too far. 

“I’ll wait underneath that sign.” Dean opened the door. “Take your time. Whatever you decide, it’s ok. You hear me. We are ok.” It was a goddamn lie, and it took everything in him to turn his back on Cas and exit the car. The laughter of children and music surrounded him, and he gripped the door tightly to keep himself from dragging the angel out. He had done all he could. It was out of his hands now. But a sudden thought made him pause.

“Oh, and Cas.” Patiently, he waited for Cas to open his eyes and look at him. “I dare you.” He slammed the door with a smirk that disappeared as soon as he turned his back.

“Don’t look back, don’t turn around, don’t you dare go back,” A thousand deaths would have been easier than walking away, his whole body rebelling against the growing distance between them.

Blind to the people gawking at him, he stood under the sign, dripping like a drowned cat. It was done. Whatever happened now, it was out of his hands. But the relief he felt was but a drop in the ocean of fear.

There was no way Cas would come.

The life Dean saw in the empty was just a fever dream that had no space for him. It was so arrogant of him to try and push his way in when Cas had repeatedly turned him down. Damn, his selfishness. In all likelihood, he had destroyed a friendship, and this was the last time he’d see the angel. The world turned blurry and he blamed the water dripping from his hair for the sting in his eyes.

Exhaustion hit him like a freight train, and he tried to remember where the nearest motel was. A nice hole to crawl into, close the curtains, and forget about the world outside for a day or two, maybe a week. And after… after, he’ll drive back to the good old regular life and all its empty comforts.  

Goddamn, that dream for showing him a life he never knew he wanted. Swiping away his face, he looked at the sky and cursed it all - the empty, god and the whole goddamn universe. Damn them all to the furthest reaches of hell. Just one small piece of paradise, that’s all he wanted. Was that too much to ask? After all the shit they lived through, was it really that selfish of him to ask for one good thing.

A hand landed on Dean’s shoulder, and fire surged through him, wiping away the exhaustion, scrapes, bruises, and water.

“Before you ask, I took care of the car. She is dry as a bone.” Cas said, looking around. “Let’s go, I want to explore.”

 “Wait!” With a trembling hand, he pulled out his phone, silently thanking Cas for fixing it, and stopped the closest person. “Excuse me, Miss, would you mind taking a photo of us.”

Heart in his throat, he flung his hand around Cas' shoulders and tried not to think too much at how rigid Cas stood next to him.

“Oh, aren’t you the cutest couple,” The lady giggled like a schoolgirl. “Here you go, hon. You have a sweet fun now.”

“We sure will. Thank you.” Chuckling, Dean pocketed the phone and chased after Cas, who slipped away as soon as the photo was taken. Shoulders touching, they passed underneath a banner that swayed in the wind.

Welcome!

Sweet Honey Bee’s Festival at Norlake Botanical Garden

Chapter Text

Honey, honey, and more honey. It was the most ridiculous place Dean had ever seen. Yet, it seemed to be quite popular with the natives. What was so special about the yellow sugar in the jar, Dean would never understand. But alas, Cas loved it for some mysterious reason, so here he was.

A sea of people walked around the stands filled with smiling faces, advertising their products as the best. Clover Honey, Orange Blossom Honey, Wildflower Honey, Alfalfa Honey, Blueberry Honey, on and on and on - his eyes were bleeding from all the colorful flags, banners, and other advertisement paraphernalia.

He entered the festival fully expecting to be bored out of his mind, lamenting in some corner about how far he was willing to go for love. But like always, life had other plans – instead of boredom, it gave him pain.

Lots and lots of pain.

This level of torture was something not even the highest level of demons could ever dream of achieving. It was refined, subtle, and hit Dean right where he was weakest. Leave it to the angel of the lord to outdo all of hell’s torturers. If Dean knew this was what their first date would turn out to be, he would have told Cas to shove it where the sun doesn’t shine and run for the hills.

Who knew life could be this cruel?

Currently, the evil bastard was talking to a seller, a middle-aged man who couldn’t stop gushing about how his Buckwheat Honey was the best in the region, and the only thing Dean wanted to do was shoot the guy in the head just to shut him up. Not because there was anything wrong with the man - he was just some regular dude trying to earn his living.

Dean just wanted to prevent what would happen once the guy finished his speech - the same thing that had happened at all the previous ten stands they visited. Or was it 50? There was no way to tell for certain as they all blurred into one long session of exquisite torture.

“I can tell that you, sir, are a real connoisseur. I have a jar here of a special blend. Nowhere else will you find anything even remotely close to this taste of heaven. My great, great grandfather came up with the recipe. My family has been perfecting it for more than a century.” The man finished his spiel, loving how Cas was listening to him without blinking, and Dean looked skyward, praying for mercy.

Maybe if he didn't look, he'd be spared this one time. Yes, it was a good plan. He'd just keep staring at the sky because there was no temptation on this earth strong enough to rival its marvelous beauty.

All that blue.

So interesting.

­“I'm eager to try it.” Dean heard Cas say, and he zeroed in on a particularly fascinating cloud, wondering if it looked more like a dog or a goat. Maybe a hybrid of both. What would its name be if it had the head of a goat and the body of a dog? Godo? Dago? Timmy?

 “Now, this beauty, I can say with utmost confidence, is the best thing on the whole continent. Maybe even beyond.”

Nah, it was definitely a goat. A two-headed goat with a crown on one head and cowboy hat on the other.

“Are you trying to sell me hot air? Dean, is that the right expression?”

“Sure Cas.” Did that goat have flames shooting out of its ass? It sure looked like it. What would happen if it farted? Would it explode or shoot straight to Mars like a rocket?

“I would never! Here, try it. See for yourself if the taste of this doesn’t make you see the face of god.”

Dean was a bird soaring among the clouds, above silly earthly things that entrap mortal men.

“I very much doubt that.”

Dean was above temptations. A saint. A man or iron will. No amount of torture will break him. The wings of his resolve will carry him away, and he’ll ascend-

 “Mmmmmmm,” The wings snapped in half like dry twigs, and Dean hurtled back to earth, burning like a meteor—Cas' moan a siren song he could not resist. Against his will, his eyes fell from the calm blue of the sky and landed on the bastard who caused his downfall.

“Sweet baby Jesus,” Dean shuddered as the electric current traveled from his eyes all the way to his toes, leaving him weak in the knees.

The world around him forgotten, Cas was lost in the sweet rapture of golden honey. Lips wrapped around the spoon, eyes closed, he sucked on the utensil, oblivious to the audience. As the pink tongue delicately wrapped around the spoon, exploring every nook and cranny with reverence, a broken whimper escaped Dean, and a solitary bead of sweat slid down the back of his neck.

Dean was sick, burning up from fever. Or perhaps he lay dying on the side of some unknown road, hallucinating as he took his last breath. That was the only possible explanation for what he was seeing.

Because in his mind's eye, the cheap untactile was gone, and in its stead, Cas' magnificent tongue was wrapped around Dean’s weeping cock. Cheeks hollowed, he sucked Dean deep into his throat, slid off, and slowly licked him from the base to the tip.

He was on his knees in front of Dean, and yet all the power was in Cas' hands. Dean was at his mercy - a toy for Cas to do whatever he wanted with. And in that moment, he was only concerned with satisfying his own curiosity. His tongue slowly explored every vein, bump, and crevice, leaving a wet trail of fire and desire in its wake, uncaring if Dean ended up incinerated.

Round and round, it circled the head of his cock, sweet and gentle yet leaving only pain in its wake. Shaking like a leaf, Dean begged and pleaded for more, but it fell on deaf ears. And when it reached the tip, pressing into the hole, Dean imploded.

“Fuck me!” Dean’s cry shattered the vision, and in its place stood the shocked salesman, his eyes threatening to pop right out of his head, and one very amused angel. Face burning, Dean waved his hand around, “Damn bees.”

“Yes, better watch out, Dean. You know how allergic you are.” Cas said, eying the obvious bulge in Dean’s pants, he unsuccessfully tried to hide. “One small prick, and you swell in the most uncomfortable places.”  

Dean narrowed his eyes at him. All this time, he was sweating bullets, cursing his dirty mind, and the little psychopath was doing it on purpose. Time to level out the playing field.

“Don’t you worry, Sweetheart, I know exactly what to do with unruly pesky beasties that misbehave. There is nothing on this green earth that a good wallop will not put right back in its place. Not even naughty little bees.”

“Did you just threaten to spank me?” Cas growled in Dean’s face, not caring about personal space.

“Threaten? Silly angel, when the time comes, you’ll be on your knees begging me to sign my name on your ass.”

“I have gravely miscalculated by trying to drown you. It seems all that dirty water has clogged your neurons and made you delusional. If anybody belongs on their knees, it’s you. Red and purple will make your eyes stand out.”

"I’ll use this hand. And when I am done,” Dean crossed the last few inches between them, enjoying how unconsciously Cas leaned towered him and whispered in his ear. “You’ll kiss it and thank me.”

A choked sound sounded behind them.

“Ups, did I forget to whisper?”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas murmured, staring at Dean’s mouth as if it were the most fascinating thing in the whole world.

“Damn. You think we fried his brain?” Dean said absentmindedly, his mind busy imagining what it would feel like to drag his tongue across Cas’ plump, suckable lips. Maybe even bite them. Not too hard. Just a small nibble. Or two.

“I do think you are correct.” Cas hooked a finger in Dean’s belt, his lips drawing closer, but a loud cough made him freeze.

Cursing they were in public, reluctantly Dean stepped away, “Let’s get out of here before he keels over.”

Face like stone, Cas turned to the man, “Thank you, sir. Your honey was adequate.”

“Adequate! Now listen here, boy, I was making honey while you were still an idea in your father's balls! This here is a work of art.”

“My father had many things, but not balls.” Ignoring Dean’s choked laugh, Cas continued, “And this here is a travesty that has your ancestors turning in their graves.”

“How dare you!” The man yelled, a vein on his forehead visibly throbbing.

“You've put salt in a perfectly good honey, and you have the audacity to call it art? This is an abomination, and you, sir, are-”

“What did you just say to me, you little-”

“A marvelous honeymaker... person. Nice day!” Dean jumped in, trying to prevent World War Three from erupting. “Let’s go, Cas. Still, lots to see, and time is wasting.” Chuckling, he grabbed Cas' elbow and stirred him away from angry cursing. “That was a bit rude?”

“I was actually trying to be polite. He is lucky I wasn’t a human. I’m sure some pure soul will be puking their guts out after tasting that garbage. We should go back and warn-”

“No, definitely not.” Dean laughed, “You sneaky little brat. Nah, don’t give me that confused puppy look. That shit ain't gonna work on me, not after that performance. You’ve been sucking spoons up and down this fair like a bee in heat. One more, and they’d have to amputate my balls. Hey, no laughing. I was in serious pain. Wait? Was this a payback for what happened back in the city?

“Revenge? I thought you knew me better than that.” Cas sighed in disappointment.

“Sorry, but what was I supposed-”

“How long were you going to pretend you were having fun on this date, which, might I remind you, you invited me to?”

“Um,” Dean stopped dead in his tracks, momentarily stunned. No way was that true. He totally had fun. The weird, torturous kind of fun… that started with Cas’ performance.

Damn, the angel was right.

When they’d entered the festival, he’d done nothing but roll his eyes at everything, completely ignoring Cas. They must have exchanged no more than three words, as he had been perfectly content to switch off and trail after Cas like a mindless robot.

Come to think of it was something he often did when Cas spoke about things he was interested in. In his defense, they were always some obscure tales of astronomical bodies he found beautiful, or esoteric philosophies about the meaning of life that Dean could barely follow. Both flew right over his head.. but that was no excuse.

 “Trust an angel to waste no time calling me out on my bullshit,” Dean murmured. “You are right. I screwed up. I made this all about … You know what, it doesn’t matter. I’m sorry. Can we start from the beginning?”

With a raised eyebrow, Cas looked behind Dean. “I am not walking back all the way to the entrance.”

“Smart ass,” Dean laughed and continued walking. Tired of the crowd, he stirred them to a more secluded section, smiling at Cas’ gasp when they came upon the sign “Wild Flowers.” Rows upon rows of colorful flowers stretched before them, the entire section alive with the low hum of countless insects.

They walk in silence, Dean content to simply observe Cas’ joy. It was a rare sight to see him so relaxed, his eyes alight with interest as he went from one flower to the next. There was no doubt in Dean’s mind that if Cas was a human, this place would be his place in heaven.

“Why bees?” Dean asked.

“Honey.”

“Huh?”

“I used to be fascinated with bees. Now I’m more interested in honey.”

Dean waited for him to continue, but Cas went back to examining a bright red flower. “Jeez, Cas, nice talk. I’m learning so much already.”

“Sorry. I find it hard to… talk about it.”

“Hey, if this is making you uncomfortable, we can talk about something else. Like that coat? You ever gonna try wearing something else?”

 “It is pointless to lie to me, Dean. I know for a fact you love it.”

 “At this point, I can't tell if it's love or Stockholm syndrome.” Dean huffed, hating that it covered all Cas’ assets, even when he bent over to smell a yellow blossom.

“Dean.”

“Huh?”

“Stop staring at my ass.”

Caught red-handed, Dean coughed in embarrassment but quickly brushed off the feeling. Why hide anymore? “You might as well ask me to stop breathing.”

“You’ve changed,” Cas looked at him, a slight blush on his cheeks, and Dean swallowed, not sure if Cas had ever looked this beautiful.

“Yes, well. I had a lot of time to think.” Dean spoke without thinking, cursing himself when that gorgeous, vulnerable look in Cas's eyes disappeared, replaced by a cold regard. “It wasn’t all that bad, you know. The time you were gone. Sam and I traveled the world. Saw some interesting… stuff.”

“I’m glad.” The smile was barely there, but Dean would take it.  

“Common, let’s look at some plants.” Dean bumped Cas' shoulder, their hands brushing. “Tell me about this one.”

Cas looked at the flower for a few seconds and turned to Dean. “It’s red.”

“It’s red?” Dean laughed. “I thought you were an expert in this.”

“No. I have a great appreciation for all living things that are unaware of their beauty.” Dean struggled to breathe as Cas's gaze roamed across his face as though he were committing every detail to memory.

When hookups gushed about how beautiful he was, it was easy for him to brush off the compliments as it was nothing more than a means to get into his pants. But when Cas said it… behind the words stood the full knowledge of all that was Dean. Flustered, he struggled to come up with something intelligent to say, but his mind was completely blank.

Thankfully, just as the urge to run started rising, Cas looked away. “You asked me why bees. They helped me find my way back when I took Sam’s memories.”

The change of subject was so abrupt that it took a second for Dean to cache up. “Oh right, forgot about that. Fun times.”

“Fun indeed. I fell so far from heaven that I forgot all about it. Before that, I never really understood humanity’s need for a home. It was a painful existence. Wondering aimlessly… Until I heard a song of a hive. A million living beings crammed in a small space and not a note out of synch. Its harmony rivaled the chorus of heaven. So I stayed and listened and watched, fascinated by how each bee knew exactly what its role was without ever questioning it or rebelling. And I hated myself for that.”

“Woah, Cas, that’s not-”

“Let me finish, please.” Cas waited for Dean’s nod before continuing. “Did you know that if a queen bee is not doing its job properly, the workers will crowd her until she overheats and dies? They cook her to death. Yeah, neither did I. That was an eye-opener. So many deaths could have been avoided if only we…” Cas trailed off, looking at the only dry rose beside the trail.

“I’m not sure that even the combined power of all angels would have been enough to stop Chuck.”

“We’ll never know. Here is another interesting fact for you: did you know that honey has no expiration date.”

“There’s no way.”

“It’s true. A tiny little insect has managed to produce something so miraculous. Especially considering that a single gram of honey contains 5000 grains of pollen.”

“Huh. So a jar of the stuff is…” Dean tried and failed to imagine the scope of work needed to produce it.

“Like trying to weave a dress from spider silk. Their whole lives are dedicated to this monumental task. For a long time, I tried to come up with a single thing angels have ever created that is equally complex and beautiful. Unfortunately, the answer was jarringly obvious.”

“Nothing?”

“Not a damn thing. Only weapons and more weapons. Thus honey. I am trying to learn from them and maybe one day create something of my own… Find some meaning in all of it.” Cas said, and under his hand, the dead plant blossomed and grew tall, the air around them saturated with its sweet scent.

“Damn. I thought…”

“You thought silly little angel and his silly little ideas.”

“Guilty.”

“Don’t be. It’s not like I told you anything about all this.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I guess… I wasn’t ready to talk about it.” Cas said, but Dean heard loud and clear what was left unsaid. Dean wasn’t there for him. Busy with one apocalypse after another, why bother him with silly things. The truth was he wasn’t there for Cas. Not really. He took him for granted and soldered on, oblivious to the toll their life had on the angel. Damn, he truly fucked up.

It was suddenly too much - the past, the guilt, mistakes. So many mistakes. He needed a minute alone. “Hey man, I’m just gonna grab a bite to eat from that hot dog stand we passed. Wait for me here.”

“Sure, Dean.” Cas nodded, busy looking at the butterfly.

Standing in the small line, surrounded by the smell of delicious food, Dean's stomach churned not from hunger but from bone-crushing guilt. Was it a cowardly way out, running away from Cas just as they were finally connecting? Yes, yes, it was. But he needed a few minutes for himself before he started screaming in despair.  

As he watched the woman pour condiments on his hot dog, he could not help but think that he was again using the angel for his selfish needs and ignoring what Cas wanted. Dean was pushing for a relationship with a man who couldn't even open up to him and had run the first opportunity he got. Was he truly so egocentric as to ask Cas for a relationship when Dean had failed to be there for him as a friend?

This date was a mistake of epic proportions.  

Walking back, he searched for Cas, determined to apologize and get out of there before he did more damage, but he was nowhere in sight. Sounds of an argument nearby drew his attention, and when Cas's voice rose above the noise of the crowd, Dean started running, the hot dog forgotten on the ground.

He pushed through the crowd, noting the raised phones filming over gawking heads, thankful they weren't running in fear. Whatever was happening wasn’t a life-and-death situation, and he relaxed his grip on the gun strapped to his back.

The last ring of people parted before him, and he stopped, confused at what he saw. Cas was in a screaming match with a red-faced woman, while an equally furious man held her back from launching at Cas. Both wore the same color t-shirts as the stall behind them that held strange-looking hives. When Cas stepped around the couple with a look in his eyes that promised destruction for the weird contraptions, Dean snapped out of it, jumped in, and grabbed his hand.

 “Sorry about that, folks. He is-”

“A freak!” The woman screamed in Dean’s face, pointing a finger at Cas.

“French!” Dean said and stepped in front of Cas in case she decided to jump him. “You know how those guys are.”

“You stay away from us, or we’ll call the cops!” 

“No cops, please, he is just… eccentric. Come along, dear, let’s go find you nice wine and cheese.” Pulling a reluctant Cas after him, Dean ducked his head, trying to avoid the mass of phones pointed at them. Cas had attracted quite a crowd, and Dean feared he’d be unable to find a place to lay low until the threat of somebody calling the cops on them passed.

 “Let me go, Dean. I have to destroy that diabolic contraption!” Cas growled savagely, and a few people tripped in their rush to get away from him.

“Sure. We’ll do that. But first, can you breathe for me?” A two-story building on the left caught his attention, and he steered them in that direction, hoping they could hide there until the crowd dispersed. Or they forgot about them.

“I don’t need to breathe. I need to erase those creatures from the face of the Earth.”

“They were not human? And please breathe before you accidentally explode someone.” The "closed" sign hung on the door, and he turned to Cas, pointing at the lock. “Would you mind?”

“I don’t know what you call someone who created that thing, but human is not the name I’d use.” Cas grabbed the handle and pushed the door, breaking the lock. He tried to step back, but Dean pushed him inside.

“What the hell happened there?”

“Nothing,” Cas said, trying to walk around Dean, but he grabbed his shoulders and held him in place.

“Is this an angel version of a panic attack?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Ok. Then you are having a temper tantrum of epic proportions.” Dean said.

“I’ll fling you off this building.”

“This isn’t like you. That was the second time, in less than half an hour, that you tried to bite somebody’s head off.”

“That was anger, Dean. Am I not allowed to be angry? Or do I need to ask for your permission?” Cas' eyes blazed, and Dean stepped back like slapped.

“Of course you are. But to try to erase somebody from existence because of some insignificant… Fuck I was right. This is all my fault. I pushed you into this. I had this grand idea of a date and would not take no for an answer. I pushed and pushed until-”

 “Stop, Dean. Just… stop.” With a sigh, Cas closed his eyes and leaned against the wall. With the anger gone, he looked exhausted. “It had nothing to do with you. I saw what they were selling, and I saw red. They’ve designed an automatic honey collector.”

“Huh?” Dean was officially beyond confused. “The what now?

“It's a hive that, with the turn of a dial, allows honey to flow straight down into a jar.”

“That sounds,” Before he could finish, Cas tried to murder him with a glare, “Whoa there. Easy, man. I’m no expert, but isn’t that super safe? No more bee stings?”

“You don’t understand.” Cas waved a dismissive hand, but before he could walk away, Dean grabbed it and pushed him against the wall.

“You said it yourself, back in the car, no more misunderstandings between us. So how about instead of sitting here stewing in rage, you use simple words and explain to me what’s so wrong with it?”

“They plunder their home, Dean! The dial does not magically suck out the honey. It breaks the honeycomb cells in half and releases the honey so it drips down into containers. Killing all the larvae. Stealing all their winter food. Don’t you understand, Dean, whenever those “people” feel like it, they crash through the walls, breaking the house in half, taking all that is precious, and they call it humane!”

Cas was yelling at the end, his eyes pleading with Dean to understand, and it downed on him that what Cas was saying had nothing to do with that couple. The pain that he could hear in Cas' voice ran much deeper than simple bees and hives.

Dean grabbed Cas' shaking hands. “Hey, it’s ok-”

“Oh, I like you,” A woman’s voice said behind Dean.

“Lady, private conversation,” Dean said without turning, trying to console Cas.

“Dean-” Cas said, looking behind Dean.  

“Where did you two come from?” The woman asked.

“Can you give us a minute? Listen to me, Cas-”  

“Dean,” Cas murmured, but Dean ignored him. This was too important. If they didn’t get it out in the open, Cas would bury it as he always did, and it would fester and grow.

“I thought this place was closed until further notice.” The woman stepped closed.

“Yes, yes, we’ll leave in a minute,” Dean said through clenched teeth. “Cas, what happened back there-”

“Dean!” Cas shouted in his face.

“What!”

“Look.” Cas grabbed his shoulders and turned him around. Several feet from him stood a smiling woman in an old-fashioned dress. For a second, Dean could not figure out what Cas wanted him to see until his gaze traveled down, and he realized her feet weren’t touching the ground.

“I think I’ll keep you both.” She laughed and disappeared.

"What?" In shock, Dean stared at the empty spot. At the sound of shutters closing on the upper floors, he jumped to grab the door, but it was too late. With enough force to shake the walls, they slammed shut, leaving them in darkness.

“Motherfucker!” Dean’s scream echoed through the house.

Chapter Text

“Nonononono, this is not happening. I’m not spending our first date hunting for a crazy-ass ghost.” Dean pulled the door with both hands, but it would not budge. “It's fine. Everything is fine. Common Cas chop chop, spread your wings and get us out of here.”

“I can’t. The whole place is locked tight. I’ve never seen anything like it. It's like-”

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t care. I don’t want to know anything about her or this place because we are leaving.” Dean pulled out a lighter and grabbed the nearest curtain. “You fucked with the wrong people, lady.”

“Dean, let’s not do anything hasty.” Cas grabbed his hand.

“There’s nothing to think about. You know me, Cas, simple and no fuss. That’s my new motto. I’m burning this place to the ground. Good luck trying to hunt dust bitch!” Dean’s smile was all teeth illuminated by the small flame.

“Look around. This is a museum. You cannot destroy the entire recorded history of the town.”

Dean shrugged Cas off. “Watch me.”

The flame caught the old fabric like it was paper, quickly spreading toward the ceiling. Dean watched the fire burn with glee, blinking away the sting in his eyes as the room filled with smoke. But something was wrong. The temperature was slowly plummeting, making Dean’s teeth chatter.

 “Dean, watch out!” Tendrils of ice slithered along the walls toward them so fast Dean had no time to react. Between one breath and the next, they crawled down the curtain, extinguishing the fire. A single vine touched the lighter, and ice spread across Dean’s fingers, turning them blue. With a painful grunt, he let go of the lighter and watched in shock as it fell to the ground, shattering into a thousand pieces.

“Run!” Cas grabbed Dean’s uninjured hand, pulling him away from the danger that was crawling across the floor, freezing all it touched. From one room to the next, Dean stumbled after Cas, trying not to scream from the pain that was growing with each minute. Cas stopped so suddenly that Dean slid across the last few feet and slammed into his back.

“End of line,” Cas said, looking around the large library that had only one entrance.

“Any hidden passages?” Dean asked through clenched teeth, cradling his arm.

Cas scanned the room, “No, nothing.”

“Damn it. Help me with this.” Dean grabbed one side of the double door and Cas the other.

“It’s a waste of time. A door will not stop something that powerful.” Cas said.

“It might buy us a few minutes.” They slammed doors closed just as ice crystals formed on the surface. “Any ideas?”

“No. Windows are bolted shut. We are trapped.”

“What about the walls? Can you punch a hole through-” The wood groaned, a long and sorrowful moan, and the ice stopped.

“That wasn’t supposed to work,” Cas whispered.

“No, it wasn’t,” Dean murmured, watching the ice. “What the hell is going on here?”  

“Don’t do that again.” At the sound of a woman’s voice, they whirled around. Launching in a chair, her long hair whipping around her head, coughed by the phantom wind, she leafed through a book. “Or I’ll get real angry.”

She couldn’t have been more than 30 when she died. A sweet, heart-shaped face was a picture of innocence except for the eyes that glared at Dean, promising murder. Unfortunately, the warning flew right over Dean’s head.

“Listen bitch, let us go right now, or I promise you I’ll personally pull this place apart brick by brick until there’s nothing left but a distant memory-” Like a sledge hammer a force slammed into Dean, and he went flying into the wall. He tried to get up, but his legs wouldn’t obey him. Drifting in and out of consciousness, he jerked back when a blurry shape appeared in front of him, only to realize it was Cas standing between him and danger.  

“I apologize for my friend. He spoke without thinking, and his words were harsh. You caught us by surprise.”

“I do not care what vile names he calls me. But threatening my home - this I will not abide. You are different. I heard what you said about thieves. Despicable creatures." Smaller than Cas, she had to rise to her toes to look into his eyes. "You understand.”

“Yes,” Cas said.

“Pain surrounds you. I felt its call when you stepped into my garden.”

“Time heals all.”

“But scars remain.” A tear slid down her face.

“Do you need assistance? May we help you pass over?” Cas said.

“Make it stop. You understand. You can make them stop. Please, before it’s too late.” She disappeared, taking with her the cold and the pain in Dean’s hand. With a sigh of relief, he let the darkness take him.

***

“Dean.”

A voice called him, but he didn’t want to wake up. Tired, he was so very tired. Just a few more minutes of this blissful state where all was well in the world.

“Dean,” The voice would not stop calling, and the dream slipped from his fingers. With a groan, he opened his eyes. Cas knelt beside him, looking concerned.   

“What happened?” A memory came to him in pieces, images of ice and a woman’s voice. There was something important he was missing.

“You threatened what seems to be a ghost of a powerful witch, and she sent you flying.”

“Ah, that explains why my head feels like a scrambled egg.” Dean rubbed his forehead, which felt tender and bruised.

“It will take a moment for your memories to settle.” Cas' voice was calm, but the firm set of his jaw told Dean all he needed to know.

“That bad?”

“Your skull cracked, and you…” Cas swallowed hard, visibly shaken. “Please don’t do that again.”

“Don’t make the crazy witch angry. Got it.” Dean grasped Cas’ hand and let him pull him up. The blood rushed to his head, making him dizzy, and he held on tight, afraid to let go. Breathing deeply, he concentrated on the long fingers that caress his hand, tracing the slowly healing scar where the ice burned him. “It doesn’t hurt anymore,” Dean whispered, yearning to sink into the gentle touch and forget all about the ghost, the empty, the future and the past. To be in a place where nothing existed but him and Cas. “I’m sorry, Cas.”

“This wasn’t your fault.” 

“Trouble sure likes to find me. Damn it. Just one good day. With you. That’s all I wanted. To see you smile. It seems forever since I’ve seen you enjoying yourself. And now all this…”

“The date was perfect,” Cas said, looking at their clasped hands.  

“Don’t bullshit me, man." Dean snorted. "Call it what it is - a shitshow.”

“No. I had fun.” Cas rested his forehead on Dean’s. “Good or bad, I always enjoy spending time with you.”

“You say that now, but- If I didn’t catch you, would you’ve returned? Ever?”

“I… I don’t know.” And there it was, finally in the open. The truth Dean tried so hard to ignore hung between them like an executioner's blade.

“Good talk.” Dean pulled his hand out of Cas' hold and took a step back, away from Cas and the pain stabbing his insides. No, this wasn’t the time to let himself feel because if he unleashed that beast, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to put it back in its cage. “The case, what do we know?”

“Dean, can we please-” When Cas reached for him, Dean stepped around him and walked to the door.

“Dead witch in her late 20s to early 30s, haunting a museum in the town of bumfuck nowhere, who for some reason is very interested in you-”

“You can’t just ignore me,” Cas spoke over him, but Dean ignored him. He couldn’t even look at him.

“Powerful and surprisingly sane for a ghost. I was expecting more of a fight, but she retreated fast. Why? Is she playing with us? No, you know what, it doesn’t matter. We need to find her object. Or we might be stupidly lucky, and her bones are inside the house.” Dean said, staring at the retreating ice. There was anger, and then there was this ice-cold fury growing inside Dean that threatened to swallow all reason. It would have been so easy to let go.

After a beat of silence, Cas joined him. “The “make it stop” could refer to that constant knocking.”

"I don’t hear anything." With only a few feet between them, Dean struggled not to look at Cas. Heat radiated from the angel, making it difficult to stand his ground and resist the urge to take a step closer and bask in it.

“It’s faint. Now, when I think about it, I'm certain it's been there from the beginning,” Cas said.

The last of the ice disappeared, and without checking if it was safe, Dean grabbed the handle and flung the door open.

“Damn it, Dean, that was reckless! You could've burned your hand again.”

“If she wanted to kill us or torture us, she would've done it already.” Dean stepped into the corridor. “If you want to stay here, be my guest. I’m getting out.”

With a tired exhale, Cas walked around him and took the lead. “It’s coming from this direction.”

Dean watched Cas’ back as he navigated the dark corridors with confidence and almost laughed at the irony of it all. Put the angel in a life-and-death situation and watch him maw down the enemy. Ask him to share what’s on his mind, and you can enjoy the view of his back as he runs away.

Only a year ago, Dean would have been the one running from an emotional talk, and now here they were. Quite a pair. Shame they were doomed to fail. Who knew what fun they could have had.

After all they’ve been through, how the hell did it come to this? Life sure loved throwing curveballs Dean’s way.

They walked through corridors, the walls adorned with paintings and exhibits in silence, until Cas stopped in front of an unmarked door. “This is it.”

 “Hundred bucks it leads to a basement.” Dean put his ear to the door, and there it was the faint knocking. “I can see it clearly- the chains, bodies hanging from the ceiling, organs in jars. Fun. All right into the bowels of hell, we go.” Before Dean could reach for the handle, Cas grabbed his wrist.

“I’ll go. You should remain here.”

“Excuse me?” Dean must have heard him wrong because in what universe did Cas think that would ever happen. "Are you having a stroke?"

“Your gun is useless against her. I’ll go, and you guard the exit.” Cas said calmly, unaware of Dean’s growing anger. “It's a good plan.”

 “Sure Cas. You know what will make it even better? If you roll that plan of yours and shove it up your ass. Deep. Make sure it’s really up there.”

“Dean, compared to you, I’m almost indestructible. It's crazy to put yourself in danger when I-”

“Not absolutely. Not one hundred percent. Almost. Almost means shit, Cas. You should know that better than anybody.” Dean reached for the handle again when Cas pushed him away.

“I will not allow it,” Cas ordered and Dean lost it.

“You will not allow it!” Dean slammed Cas into the wall, his forearm on angel’s throat. “Who are you to make that decision? A friend? Family? No. You walked away from all that with surprising ease. So tell me, Cas, what gives you the right to decide what I should or shouldn’t do?”

“I did what I thought was best.” The almighty angel façade cracked, and there was such pain in Cas' eyes, begging for understanding, but Dean was past listening. Distantly, he knew he should walk away and put some distance between them before he said too much, but it was too late. The dam cracked open and out came poring all the pain he had kept locked for the past year.

“Of course you did. It’s what you always do. You do what you think is best, carving chunks of me on the way. Every time a piece of me dies because of you, I say 'thank God' because next time…” Dean’s voice broke, but he refused to keep silent any more. “Next time you do it, it will hurt less.” 

“That’s not-” Dean ignored the pain in Cas' eyes.

“You want to hear a little secret? I lied. When you said I was bored on this farce of a date, I lied to myself. I realize now that I didn’t walk around that fair on autopilot because I was bored. I was waiting for you to leave.” Dean laughed humorlessly.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Cas whispered, gently wiping the wetness from Dean’s cheek he didn’t know was there. It was a tender touch full of promise, full of remorse. All the things Dean had heard before.

“Save me your excuses. Now, let’s get rid of Elsa so you can crawl back into the hole you’ve been hiding in.”

The change on Cas’ face was frightening. Dean had seen that look plenty of times in battle. Now, under the scrutiny of Cas' furious gaze, he fought not to look away first and admit defeat. If it had been anybody else, Dean would have been afraid for his life, but this was Cas. Yet still, when those strong hands that had not so long ago pulled a beating heart out of a vampire's chest gripped his waist tightly, his heartbeat skipped in doubt.

“You done?” Cas asked, voice devoid of emotion. Without waiting for an answer, he picked Dean as if he were a child and moved him to the side. “Take out your gun and watch our six.” Cas turned his back on gaping Dean, opened the door, and disappeared into the darkness.

A strange feeling coursed through Dean’s body, drowning out the last of his anger and making his insides quiver. It was so easy to forget that under all that corporate costume hid a ripped body and, deeper still, an angel more powerful than Dean could comprehend.  

With that blatant show of power, Cas had awoken something inside of Dean he could not name or even begin to understand. Something frightening. Something primal that wanted to possess. To conquer.

No. It was madness. A symptom of the concussion, nothing else.

With a shake of his head, he pushed it all aside like he was trained to do, pulled out his gun and followed Cas into darkness and cold.

Again. 

Chapter Text

Of course it was a goddamn basement.

Glued to Cas, a flashlight in one hand and a gun in the other, Dean clenched his teeth, trying to hold in the storm of curses. With each step, the strange knocking grew louder. Two taps and a pause, evenly spaced out. It was making the hairs at the back of Dean’s neck stand up, his brain screaming danger.

Who knew what new horror awaited them bellow and the stubborn angel was right in the line of fire. Dean’s palm itched to reach out, grab Cas’ coat, and pull him away from danger.  

Cas reached the bottom of the staircases and froze, looking to his right. “Huh.”

“Is that “start shooting” huh or “run” huh?” Dean whispered as he pointed the light in the direction Cas was looking. “Huh… That’s… The fuck?”

A man stood in the corner of the basement, his back turned toward them. In a low voice, he mumbled something unintelligible before slamming his head into the wall twice, only to start all over again, trapped in a loop. It was the most disturbing image Dean had ever seen.

“What’s he saying?” Dean whispered in Cas’ ear.

“I’m an idiot.”

“Huh? You’re joking? What the hell is going on here.” Dean pointed the gun at the man. “Hey, buddy!” Dean called, but there was no reaction. “A death echo?”

“No, he’s very much alive. Seems to be caught in some kind of a spell.” Cas said as he walked to the man.

“Damn it, I would’ve preferred a ghost. Or a monster. Hell, anything's better than a human.” Dean muttered, shining the light around the surprisingly clean and sparse space. Except for a table with cleaning supplies and stacked chairs in one corner, there was nothing to explain the guy’s presence. “He might be a visitor. Got lost… she trapped him here.”

“I think this is a bit more complicated than that,” Cas picked up a plastic canister lying at the guy's feet, unscrewed the cap, and sniffed. “Gasoline.”

“Really? Oh, this just became a hundred times more interesting. A pyromaniac and a ghost that hates fires. A match made in heaven.” Dean snorted, taking in the ripped pants and the plain blue t-shirt the guy was wearing. “Wait a second, she said something while my brain was leaking out of my ears… what was it? Something about making it stop.”

“Make them stop before it’s too late,” Cas said.

“Them? There might be more in the house.”

“Her power is somewhat dulling my senses, but I’m sure we are the only ones here.”

“This is so freaky. She turned him into a puppet.” The guy, who looked to be in his early 20s, didn’t even blink when Dean waved a hand in front of his face. “Maybe he’s not the first one to try and destroy this place. Damn it, there are too many unknowns. Can you snap him out of it?”

Cas' unfocused gaze studied the man, seeing much deeper than skin and bones. “Yes.” He said, but it lacked the usual confidence.

“I’m sensing a but.”

“It’s nothing… I can’t really explain it. Just a bad feeling.”

“Tell me about it. Let’s do this. The faster we hear what he’s got to say, the faster we can get out of here… I hope.” Dean pulled out his gun but kept it hidden behind his back.   

Cas placed a hand on the man’s shoulder and closed his eyes. Seconds turned into minutes, and just when Dean started contemplating if shooting him in the leg might wake him up, with a gasp, he came to. “Oh god! Oh god, almighty!”

 “Hey buddy, you with us?” At the sound of Dean’s voice, the man whirled around his back to the wall.

“Please, no more! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He whimpered, arms raised defensively, bracing for a blow. “I didn’t do anything. Just let me go.”

“This sure doesn’t look like nothing.” Dean kicked the canister at the guy’s feet. “You want to explain to us why you have enough accelerants here to burn down half the town?”

 “You are not… her?” Eyes wide, half mad with fear, bounced from Cas to Dean. “We need to get out right now! Before she returns! Monster!” With a scream, he bolted for the stairs but froze mid-step at the cold touch of a gun's muzzle against his forehead.

 “Where do you think you’re going? Don’t make me waste a bullet on your sorry ass.” Dean said.

Not taking his eyes from the gun between his eyes, sweat pouring down his face, the guy opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“Start talking,” Dean growled, not carrying that the guy looked one step away from a heart attack.

“Are… Are… you cops?” He stuttered.

“Sure. I’m Officer Dean Plant, and this is my partner Castiel Page.” Dean could practically feel Cas rolling his eyes behind him. Jerk. “You are?”

“You have to help me. He made me do it. I had no choice. He said he’d kill my family. Burn the place, he said, and they’ll be safe. Said there was nobody here, that it was closed. But then…” Looking around, he shuddered, backing away, trying to melt into the wall.

“Then she came.” Dean finished.

“The devil.” He whispered as if saying the word out loud could summon her. “First came the cold. I thought, how strange, it's summer. How is there ice on the windows? I should have run, but if I didn’t do it…I had to finish it. By the time I realized what was happening, it was too late. She’s everywhere. I ran... She kept coming. Something… hit me from behind, and nothing. My family, oh god!” With a soul-wrenching cry, he crumbled to the ground, weeping into his hands.

Cas crouched in front of him. “What’s your name?”

“Timothy… Timothy Miller.”

“And the man? The one who threatened your family.”

A strange look passed across the guy’s face, too fast for Dean to identify. “I don’t… I don’t know. There was a message on my phone… and … he sent photos, my… family…” Timothy grabbed Cas’ hand, his eyes pleading for help.

 “You’re safe now, Timothy,” Cas said, patting his hand.

The large doe-like eyes gazed at Cas as if he was a second coming and shyly whispered, “Call me Tim.”

“Cas,” Dean heard enough. He holstered his gun and tipped his head toward the other side of the basement. With one last reassuring pat on Tim’s shoulder, Cas followed Dean.

When they were at a safe distance where they wouldn't be overheard, Dean whispered, “I don’t trust him.”

“We have to help him,” Cas said at the same time.

“Yeah, right,” Dean snorted, thinking Cas was joking. But no, his face was even more constipated than usual. “You can’t be serious? You actually fell for that pile of bullshit he fed us. Think about it. He was conveniently chased by a ghost all the way to the basement. The only place where starting a fire guarantees the house is toast before the fire department could reach it.”

“You’ve seen how powerful she is. The same way we ran, he could have stumbled here by accident. And tell me you wouldn’t do the same if your family was in danger?”

“I would’ve come at dawn, cut the power to the alarm, and thrown a Molotov cocktail through a window.” Cas glared at him. “Ok, fine. He told us a tragic story, but man, he's seriously triggering all my alarm bells.” Dean could not get out of his mind that strange look in Timothy’s eyes when Cas asked him about the person who threatened him.

“I’m not leaving him here to suffer!” Cas said, eyes blazing with anger.

“Did you just growl at me?” Dean blinked in disbelief. “You actually believe I would leave him here? Wow. Nice to know what you really think of me.”

“No, that’s not…” Cas closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Sorry, that was uncalled for.” 

“What the hell is going on with you? You run, you stay, you flirt, you lash out. God, you’re driving me insane!” Frustrated, Dean wanted to grab Cas and shake him until he got some answers. “It seems that a ghost knows more about what's on your mind these days than I do. What was it she said… my memory is still fuzzy… something about you understanding her pain.”

Cas' shoulder twitched violently, the only thing keeping him from bolting the ghost’s magic. And that hurt more than a bullet to the gut.

The man with whom Dean planned to spend the rest of his days found it easier to flee than to confide in him. Dean cleared his throat, the tightness in it heavy, but before he could say ‘never mind,’ ‘it doesn’t matter,’ or some other lie, Cas looked at him with such pain in his eyes it took Dean’s breath away.

“I understand what it feels like to have one’s home invaded and destroyed.” He said, bowing his head as if trying to curl in on himself. For a second, Dean had a vision of Cas hunched in the corner, a great dark beast towering over him, raining punches onto his unprotected back.

Dean stepped forward, his instinct screaming at him to protect and banish the dark memories that had Cas trembling. But before his raised hand could make contact, Cas pulled back.  Helpless, Dean watched as the mask of indifference slid back, and Cas straightened as if nothing happened.

Dean wanted to punch something.

How naive he had been, thinking he’d be the hero who saved the angel and they’d ride out into the sunset.

How stupid of him.

Whatever happened to Cas in the empty had left scars that ran deep, straight to his core. His body might be whole, but underneath… Dean was afraid to find out lay there because if what happened just now was any indication, then the angel was a walking time bomb.

And Dean knew intimately what happens when the timer reaches zero — countless rooms he had personally destroyed, gallons of alcohol consumed, bar fights and bloodshed, all done trying to drown the pain. All in vain.

But when Cas finally snapped…

Was that the reason he kept pulling away from Dean? To protect Dean from himself? Well fuck that, and fuck his self-sacrificing bullshit. Dean wasn’t going anywhere. He’d stay until he got some goddamn answers. Even if it meant he had to wait until old age for the stubborn angel to come to his senses and open up. Until then, he'd deal with the ghost and suffer sniveling Tim, if that was even his name.

“Ok. We get him out and find the son of a bitch that threatened his family.” Dean said.

“Thank you, Dean.” It wasn’t really a smile, but Dean would take it.  

 “One of the thousands of objects in this house must be hers. The question is, how do we find it.”

“The archive is two doors back, the way we came from.”

“Oh, that’s just great. It will take a lifetime to find info on some random chick. We don’t even know her name.”

“The dress she was wearing was from the late nineteenth century. We start from there. How many violent deaths can a small town have in the late 1800s?” Cas said, turning to join Timothy, but Dean grabbed his shoulder.

 "Sorry, did I miss the moment when you became a fashion expert?"

“I’m hardly an expert.” Cas looked at Dean with a mischievous smile. “I wore a similar dress in 1888.” With a wink over his shoulder, he left Dean gapping after him like a fish on dry land.

There was no way he heard that right. Right? His mind must have glitched from the exhaustion. Prolonged hours without sleep were a nightmare for the brain. No, Dean must have hallucinated it. But that didn’t explain the vision in his mind of Cas in a long dark purple dress waving a flaming sword promising death to his enemies.

“Dean, are you coming?”

“Yup. Yeah, sure, right.” Dean stammered, struggling to get his mind out of the gutter and his legs to move.

Chapter Text

They were walking down the corridor, Cas in the lead, Timothy in the middle, and Dean watching their six. At least, that was what he was supposed to be doing, but his eyes kept coming back to Tim.

There was something about him that rubbed Dean the wrong way. Maybe it was the way he was twitching, looking around as if the pictures on the walls would jump at him at any moment. Or the way he would not shut up, whispering in Cas’ ear. Or was it how he remained glued to Cas’ side like a bloodthirsty leech, constantly touching him.

First, there was that oh-so-innocent pat on Cas’ shoulder when Cas smiled at something Tim said. Then the touch on Cas' wrist when he pointed at something on the wall. And to top it all the way, he grabbed Cas' hand when he got frightened by his own shadow.

And who in their right mind wears pants like that? They were so tight they looked painted on, stretched over long legs that seemed to go on for miles, and an ass that women would kill for.

There was something seriously wrong with that kid. Dean wasn’t gonna let his guard down, no matter how innocent he seemed. “Tell me about the person that threatened you.”

Tim jumped as if he forgot Dean was there. “Nothing to tell, really. Just a few messages and photos of, um, my parents.”

“Show me.”

Tim blinked at Dean’s outstretched hand. “Show you what?”

 “You phone,” Dean growled, running out of patience.  

“Oh, right. Yeah. Dead. It’s dead. Got frozen.” Tim shrugged his shoulders sheepishly.

How convenient, Dean thought. “Of all the people this guy could have chosen, he went for you. Why?”

 “Oh man, if you figure that out, let me know because I’ve been racking my brain for days trying to figure it out. I’m a nobody. A student and not a good one. All those numbers, man. I really try to study day and night, but they keep flying out of my head. I’m a failure… that’s what my father calls me.”

“You’re not a failure.” Cas said, “You just need time to find the thing you love to do. Once you do, I’m sure you will be highly successful.” Great, now Cas was initiating contact. Did he need to keep his hand on Tim’s shoulder that long?

“You think so?” Tim gazed at Cas with puppy eyes full of adoration, and Dean wanted to barf. Maybe next, Cas should throw the kid some treats and ask him to roll over.

When they reached the room with a sign ‘Archive’ hanging next to it, Dean wanted to turn around and run. Rows upon rows of wall-to-wall shelves stacked with boxes – it was a scene straight out of his nightmares. “Shit! We’ll be here forever.”

“What are we doing here? I thought we were trying to escape?” Tim said, gazing in distaste at the thick layer of dust on the only table in the room, only to start sneezing when Cas slammed a box down, sending a cloud of dust swirling in all directions.

To Dean, Cas had never looked more sexier than in that moment.

Biting his lip to keep from laughing, Dean pulled out a chair and sat down, trying not to groan at how good it felt to get off his feet finally.

“Sit down and listen carefully." Dean kicked the chair closest to Tim. "Without going into details, here is all you need to know about ghosts. First of-”

 “Ghosts! You’re joking.” Tim’s laugh quickly faded away when he noticed the look on their faces. “You’re serious? Ghosts? Like proper dead people walking around.”

“We don’t have time for you to freak out, so-”

“Does that mean my great aunt Edna could still be around here? She was 45, you know. That's like, ancient! I mean, she said she’d never leave, swore it with her dying breath. Or so the family legend goes. Everyone knows Edna loved to have fun, if you know what I mean.”

Dean’s brain came to a screeching stop - did the kid just call him ancient? Sure, when he counted all the years he spent in hell and purgatory, he was much older than 41… but ancient?

In the last year, since Cas' miraculous touch was missing, a few issues had been bugging him. Like that constant pain in his lower back, that sometimes kept him up at night. And the right knee that wouldn’t stop aching just before the rain… Actually, now, when he thought about it, the list of all the ailments that plagued his body would give doctors a stroke.

What the hell did Cas see in Dean? Compared to the kid, he was a walking colostomy bag.

“What if she watched me rub one out? I’m never gonna have a boner again! That is so embarrassing! Ugh! Old people having sex is disgusting-”

“For the love of god, will you shut up!” Dean exclaimed, having heard enough. As far as Dean was concerned, the ghost was a saint for not killing the little prick.

“Dean,” A whispered warning came from Cas, who was leafing through documents.  

Of course, Cas jumped to defend him. Who wouldn’t? Everything about Tim screamed innocence - the perky little nose that had never been broken, perfect lips that he wouldn’t stop biting, and the large brown eyes slowly filling up with tears. Great, now Dean was the evil one who yelled at the poor, harmless kid.

For Cas, he'll try and make an effort not to rearrange Tim’s perfect baby face, but one more comment about his age and he'd be a dead man.

Silently, Dean counted to ten. “A person dies, doesn’t want or can’t cross over, and you get a ghost. Most are harmless, some a glitch in the matrix, and others… Well, others make Ted Bundy look like a teddy bear. Iron and salt are the only things that can slow them down. To stop them, you got to burn their bones or the object they’re tied to.”

“This… is not happening.” Tim stuttered, looking paler than usual. “The woman, that was the ghost? I heard stories. Hell, the whole town knows one story or another about the woman who haunts this place, but we all thought it was a PR move by the museum staff.”

“What kind of stories?” Cas asked without taking his eyes off a newspaper clipping in his hand. “Any attacks, people missing?”

“God no, nothing like that. Whispers, sudden noises. Several people ran away screaming. I thought it was all like crazy talk. Guess I was wrong,” Tim said, biting his thumbnail.

Looking closely, Dean noticed that all of Tim’s nails looked as if he had spent weeks gnawing on them. The guy was a ball of nerves ready to pop. Either guilt was eating him alive, or he was telling the truth, and his family was in danger.

“I got something,” Cas said.

“Already? Damn Cas, that was fast.” Dean was impressed. “You set a world record for finding a needle in a haystack.”

Cas looked up at Dean, his brows furrowed, “The box moved.”

“The fuck?” Dean silently mouthed when Cas shook his head, equally confused.

“What do you mean it moved?” Tim’s voice reached a high pitch, threatening to slip into full-blown hysteria.

“It means the place is infested with rats.” Dean lied, trying to forestall Tim’s freakout.

“God, I hate them. Dirty, disgusting creatures, getting into all…” Tim’s ramble faded away as worry twisted Dean’s gut. In all the years they’ve hunted, not once had a monster willingly set itself to fail.

Yet here they were, stuck in a museum with a ghost actively helping them. If she wasn’t so powerful, Dean would have cheered their luck and counted the minutes until they burned her bones and got the hell out of there. But there was no ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach that she was setting a trap for them. Even if they found her object by some miracle, there was no chance she would allow fire anywhere near it.

And Cas… Damn it, it has been just a few weeks since Dean got him out, only to put him back into danger. God only knew what she could do to the angel if she really set her mind on hurting him.

Dean knew he was spiraling down a dangerous path, but there was no stopping it. He wanted to rip the house into shreds with his bare hands until there was nothing left for the ghost to cling to. All that gasoline in the basement…It would be so easy to reach out, grab Cas' hand, and high tail out of there - watch it all burn in the rearview mirror.

Powerless, he could only sit there and watch himself slowly slide into despair as rage, guilt, and fear tore into him like their favorite chew toy.

A foot nudged his, and surprised, he looked up into a pair of blue eyes. Instead of the blame he expected to see, Cas’ eyes burned with conviction that they would get through this.

Faith… that word always tasted bitter in Dean’s mind. Faith was a slippery slope that led to pain and misery, a ruthless tool designed to keep you in place and not ask questions.

But the faith in Cas’ eyes… It wasn’t a blind belief in a god or higher power. It was faith in them - two fuckups that still somehow managed to come on top despite all the crap life threw their way. Like magic, it dispelled the cloud of darkness looming over Dean’s head.

With a nod, Dean pressed his foot against Cas’ yearning to do more, but with Tim yapping away next to them, a fleeting touch would have to do.

Feeling lighter, Dean straightened. “What you got, Cas?”

Cas looked at Dean for a few seconds, making sure he was ok before he started reading. “On the morning of Monday, May 17, 1896, a large crowd witnessed the execution of one Lawrence Brady, aged 31, guilty of the gruesome murder of his wife and child.

On April 29, after a trial that lasted only two days, during which Mr. Brady maintained his innocence, the judge sentenced him to death by hanging. His last words to the convicted man were: “I’ve been at this job for three decades and have seen a fair share of monsters, but you, sir, are pure evil. Your soul is blacker than the darkest pits of hell, where I hope you will burn for the rest of eternity.”

Dean whistled, impressed. “Damn. I keep telling you, Cas, humans are the worst. Is there a picture of the wife?”

“No.”

“The wife is the ghost?” Tim asked, looking between them.

 “Let’s not jump to conclusions.” Cas pulled out a stack of documents from the box and placed them between them. “Dig in.”

“Can’t we, I don’t know, say a Hail Mary three times and exercise her?”

“That’s demons,” Dean said absentmindedly, looking at the pile of papers with trepidation.

“Demons!” Tim exclaimed.

“You don’t want to know.” Dean grabbed a random document and started reading.

***

After what felt like an eternity, Dean was ready to quit. The words swam in front of his tired eyes, courtesy of a headache that felt like a marching band was partying inside his frontal lobe. The only thing keeping his numb ass glued to the chair was the constant presence of Cas' foot against his own.

The whole ordeal would have been barrable if not for Tim, who could not stop blabbering.

“How come you know so much about all this stuff?” Tim waved his hand at the piles of paper covering the table.

“What, reading? Well, Tim, you go to school, and you start with an A.” The guy was really testing Dean’s patience.

“Ghosts.” Like previous times, Dean’s sarcasm flew straight over Tim’s head. “It all sounds so crazy. I saw it, I mean her, and I still have trouble believing.”

“Oh yeah, ghosts are a mandatory test at the academy. You flunk it, and they don’t give you all the cool toys.”

“I knew X files were real!” Tim pumped his hand, celebrating like it was his birthday. “What else is there? Zombies?”

“Sure.” The headache was slowly sliding down Dean’s neck, like hot pokers stabbing into his muscles.

“Vampires?”

“Mhm,” A warm bath was what he needed. A cold beer and a warm bath. God, it had been ages since he had one of those.

“Dementors?”

"Mm-hmm." Dean scowled at Cas, whose cough sounded suspiciously like he was trying to cover his laughter. With his face hidden behind a document, Dean couldn’t tell.

“Godzilla?”

“Jesus Christ,” Dean muttered, shaking his head as he looked around for a window he could jump through, but his gaze kept returning to Cas, whose shoulders were shaking with silent laughter. At least he was having some fun. If only the damn paper wasn’t in the way. It’s been ages since he had seen him smile.

 “I found her! We are free!” Tim cried excitedly, waving a paper. The screech of his voice made Dean’s teeth ache. It was a miracle he didn’t shoot him right there and then. Instead, he ripped the document out of Tim’s hand and gave it to Cas. “Read the damn thing.” When Cas cleared his throat, biting his bottom lip trying to keep the laughter in, Dean growled, not caring that he sounded like a caveman. “Shut up and read.”

“Yes, Sir,” Cas laughed and read. “ ‘Yesterday the church bells announce the wedding of Lawrence and Alice Brady. After a year of courting, the groom finally won the hand of the bride by planting 100 roses in her honor. The breathtaking garden surrounding Mr. Brady’s ancestral home is a testament to their undying love…’ There is a photograph of the couple.” Cas turned the page so Dean could see.

“They look happy,” Tim sighed, and for once, Dean agreed with him. Full of life, the bride’s eyes sparkled as she smiled for the camera, excited for the future.

“Dear old Lawrence sure doesn’t look like a psychopath,” Dean said, looking at the serious young man in a suit standing next to the bride.

“They never do,” Tim whispered, staring at the photo, his leg bouncing so hard it made the table shake. “You live with them for years, not realizing they were slowly chipping away at you until nothing left but a shadow…” Lost in thought, Tim bit into his nail too high, and a drop of blood trickled down his thumb. “A puppet for their twisted game.”

“Tim, are you all right?”

Cas’ question snapped Tim out of it, and a bright smile lit his face. “Of course!” When Cas pointed a finger at his bleeding hand, he sheepishly shrugged his shoulders. “A nervous habit. I’m working on it.”

Dean saw the moment when Cas decided to heal the kid and jumped to stop him. “Put a tissue on that before you bleed all over the evidence.” He ordered, glaring at Cas in a warning.  Ghost, they could explain. Adding an angel to the list would blow the kid’s mind. “Cas, you find anything else?”

“I was looking at the history of the museum. There’s no mention of the murder, but I did find a document from 1900 that the property was given the status of a heritage site and opened to the public. Among the list of possible names for the museum was the Alice Doyle Monument. Must be her maiden name.”

“Strange. Usually, towns try to erase gruesome murders from history books. They must have really loved Alice to turn this place into a museum.” When Cas frowned, Dean’s stomach sank, “What is it?”

“The museum’s original collection consists of all of the family's belongings.”

“Of course it does.” Dean wanted to bang his head on the table until he fainted and escaped this hell. After three hours of digging through dusty papers, they were no closer to a solution.

Dean was done. Utterly and completely done.

“What about the Loch Ness monster?” Tim piped in out of nowhere.

Dean was reaching for his gun when Cas stood up. “Dean, could you help me with that last box? I can’t reach it.” Without waiting for a reply, he walked off and disappeared into the maze of shelves.

“Ever seen any alien-“

Letting the chair scrape loudly across the floor for as long as possible, Dean stood up and followed Cas. It was a relief to escape the mountains of papers, and Tim’s irritating voice, but his stomach turned at the thought of being alone with Cas, their last conversation replaying in his mind - if he could even call it that.

Dean’s whole body ached for sleep, and his head felt like it would split open at any moment. Yet the small part of his brain that wasn’t praying for quick death warned him to be patient - to give Cas time.

When he spotted Cas leaning against the shelf, looking all fine and unbothered, as if he was out for a stroll, that last brain cell of reason withered and died.

He’d tried asking. He’d tried anger. He’d tried fighting. And what did he get in return? Breadcrumbs that led to nowhere. A licked spoon and a game of footsie under the table. Dean was done with Cas’ games, this case, and that blabbering fool.

“You just saved Tim’s life.”  

“Oh, I know.” Cas smiled. “He’s really… enthusiastic and young.”

Yes, the young and beautiful Tim had gotten more sentences out of Cas in a few hours than Dean did in the entire day he spent with him. “If you called me here to talk about your new girlfriend, I’m out of here.”

“No. I didn’t call you here to talk about Tim.” Cas frowned, looking at him from head to toe. Knowing him, he was probably cataloging all the muscles, atoms, and molecules. Shame he couldn’t read minds. “When was the last time you slept?”

“The concern in your voice is touching.” Dean snapped, rubbing his neck, trying to relieve some pressure, but he couldn’t get the angle right. “Cut to the chase, and stop wasting my time.”

Cas glared at him, and Dean's heartbeat jumped in anticipation of a fight. Anything to see a crack in that façade of false calm that he was hiding behind, but Cas just shook his head. “As you wish. I’ve found some… strange information about the Bradys. A dozen of police reports dating several months before the murders…”

Whatever Cas said next was drowned by a roaring sound in Dean’s ears as a crushing weight of disappointment hit him. Defeat was a hard pill to swallow.

Tired to the bone, Dean leaned against the shelf, grateful to take some weight off his legs. Eyes closed, he took a moment to push all thoughts of Cas aside and concentrate on the case. “Let me guess, dear old Lawrence was beating his wife.”

“No. It seems the property was plagued by … accidences.” Cas said, staring intently at his feet as if the mysteries of the universe were hidden there.

“You don’t say?” At least the case was turning out to be interesting.

“Their barn burned down, fences torn, cattle died of unknown illness, the stream that passed through their land dried out, and they lost a lot of workhands,” Cas said.

“Sounds like the lyrics of a bad country song. The only thing missing is a dead dog. What happened to the workers?”

“They refused to work there anymore. Claimed the place was cursed.” 

“Interesting… The murders happened after somebody was pressuring them… To do what? Sell the place?” Dean asked.

 “That’s what I was thinking. They asked Bradys to sell, and they said no.”

“Until they said fuck off too many times and got killed. The husband got framed.”

“Sounds… plausible,” Cas said.

“Let’s say it’s true. All those deaths, and they still didn’t get the land. They must have been royally pissed.” Dean rubbed his forehead, the headache pounding behind his eyes almost unbearable. “Wait… The ghost, Alice, said, ‘Make them stop,’ which means…”

“Which means whoever they are, they still want the land. If the museum burns to the ground, without the possibility of being restored, it could lose the status of a heritage site, and the land could, potentially, be sold to a private party.”

“To do with it as they please. We are looking for a rich and well-connected asshole. Fucking humans.” Dean swore, disgusted at how far people were willing to go for profit.

“Alice has been guarding this place for over a hundred years.” Cas smiled, admiration in his voice. “She protected what she loved and never let any harm come to it… no matter the cost.”

“Yeah, she’s a real saint.” Dean flexed his right hand, the pain of the ice crawling over his fingers still fresh in his memory. “So how do we- Shit.” Black spots filled Dean’s vision as the floor dangerously swayed.

“What’s wrong?” Cas’ hand steadied him, eyes ablaze with worry. Dean wanted to slap it off his face.

“Nothing. I’m fine. It’s just a migraine,” Dean tried to shrug him off, but Cas wouldn’t have it.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were in this much pain?” As Cas reached to heal him, Dean’s scrambled brain raged at the thought of his touch. Fuck Cas and his holier-than-thou attitude of ‘I’m here to solve all your problems, and then fuck off and disappear.’  

“I said I was fine!” He jerked from Cas' grasp only to lose his footing and slam hard into a shelf, the pain making his shoulder numb. “Shit!”

“Stop behaving like a child, and let me heal you,” Cas growled at the end of his patience.

"Oh, fuck off!" Dean swore, trying to push him away, only for Cas to spin him around and slam him chest-first into a shelf. “I don’t need anything from- ” Dean swallowed the rest of the words as a strong hand grabbed the back of his neck and gently squeezed. He opened his mouth to protest, to fight and rage, but when the cool grace seeped into his body, nothing came out but a moan.

 “You bastard….” Dean grabbed the shelf in front of him to keep from melting to the ground, his eyes fluttering closed. “I’m so… furious with you.”

“I know. I deserve nothing less.” Cas continued kneading his neck, the massage a perfect blend of pain and tenderness. “I’m sorry I…” The pause felt like an eternity. Then a whisper came, so quiet Dean had to strain to hear. “I was afraid.”

At the pain and fear in those three words, Dean’s protective instincts roared, seeking to kill, maim, and destroy. But in the half darkness of the archive, no enemy waited to attack, only silence and the slight tremble in Cas’ hand.

“Is that why you… Is the Empty after you?”

“No, I checked. It’s sleeping. For good this time. I… When this is over, we’ll talk.” A soft lips pressed to the side of Dean’s neck, sending shivers down his spine. “I promise.”

 A warm feeling bloomed in Dean’s chest. It was dangerous to let the hope grow only to watch it burn the next time Cas got cold feet. Only… Dean was a weak man because maybe… this time…

Out there, danger loomed at every corner. Here, with the lingering feeling of Cas' lips on his skin, he let go.   

Before Cas could pull away, Dean grabbed the back of his head. “Run again, and I’ll kill you myself.” Lightly, he tugged Cas’ hair in warning. “You got it?”

“Yeeess,” came a throaty reply that made Dean snap to attention. No, he must have imagined it. There was no way Cas had made that sound. He had finally lost his mind and tumbled down a rabbit hole of delusion. His heart pounding against his ribs, Dean grabbed a fistful of Cas’s hair and yanked hard.

A broken whimper, a sound full of need and surrender, ripped out of Cas as he pressed against Dean’s back with enough force to make him stumble. The cold metal digging into Dean’s fevered hands, the only thing keeping his brain from exploding when a hard cock pressed into his ass.

Afraid to breathe, move, or think lest he break the connection, Dean stood there frozen, praying it wasn’t all just a fever dream. The thought of it ending with him waking up alone and aching had him tug desperately at the soft strands of hair, only to sigh in relief when Cas nuzzled into his neck, shivering from head to toe.

Suspended in time, they stood apart from the world and all its troubles. Enclosed in a small bubble where nothing could touch them, they stood still, the sound of two hearts beating as one the only sound.

If this was a dream, Dean never wanted to wake up.

An image sneaked into his brain of a miniature Cas perched on his shoulder, happy and drooling with contentment, and a laugh escaped him. As if fires of hell burned him, Cas jumped away from Dean, stammering a string of incoherent words that sounded a lot like an apology.

Swallowing disappointment, Dean turned and froze. He had always thought Cas was beautiful, but looking at him now, cheeks aflame with embarrassment - Cas was breathtaking. There was no part of Dean that didn’t yearn to slowly peel away every item of his clothing and find out exactly how far down the blush went.

Digging his nails into his palm, he reminded himself this was not the time. Patience, that cursed word, cautioned him not to go too fast. “I should check on the wonder boy.”

“Ok,” Cas said, looking anywhere but at Dean. “I’ll stay here and… continue looking.”

It was physically painful to step away from Cas. “Take a look at the neighbors. All those accidents... somebody knew the place well and could easily slip away. It could be a workhand or somebody close by. Or both”

“I haven’t thought of that. I’ll try to find something.”

“And Cas,” Dean waited until Cas looked at him. “Thank you for the massage. I feel better than ever.”

Cas’ smile was blinding. Before Dean’s resolve completely shattered and he jumped Cas right there and then, he turned and walked away.

Dean’s grin slipped when he found the table deserted, with no sign of Tim.

Chapter Text

“Son of a- Oh Cas, my dear, come here for a second!” Dean called.

 Cas stepped out of the dark passage, a box in his hand. “Yes?”

“See anything missing?” 

“Where’s Tim?” Cas asked, looking around.

“Your boy toy decided to take a stroll.” Dean’s sarcastic smile turned into a scowl when Cas burst out laughing. “Seriously? This is funny to you."

“No, but your jealousy does bring me joy.”

“Pah me! Jealous? Don’t be ridiculous!” Dean sputtered, outraged. “Did you leave your brain in the empty? Jealous of what? That walking fashion crime. The “Oh no dust! Run before it clogs my perfect pores,” moron. Pleeeeease.”

The longer Dean’s speech went, the wider Cas’ smile grew. “Of course not. I must be mistaken. You’re right. All that time in the empty had made me… see things that are so ‘obviously’ not there. Silly me.”

Dean glared at Cas. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“I’ve no idea what you are talking about,” Cas said calmly, pulling the papers out of the box. “You should go after him before he gets hurt out there. Who knows what kind of trouble those tight pants might bring.”

“All right, smartass. Enough. I got it.” Dean sighed in defeat, rubbing his face with both hands. Leave it to Cas’ to call him on his bullshit. “I’m not leaving you alone. She might not kill, but she ain’t Mother Teresa.” Dean waved his recently healed hand.

 “As long as we don’t threaten the house, we’re safe.” Cas lightly bumped him with his shoulder, his eyes alight with mirth. “Go. Make sure he’s ok.” 

“Damn it. Don’t make me regret this. If anything happens to you-” Dean swallowed the rest, unable to voice his fears.

“I’ll be fine. Go.” Cas waved him away as he sat down to read.

Dean stepped into the corridor, remembering at the last moment to grab the door and not let it slam behind him.

“Respect the house, Dean,” He murmured, looking left and right. “Where did you go, kid?”

On his left, the corridor branched right and left, and on his right- There! A thin line of ice spread across the wall and disappeared up the staircases. Fearing the worst, Dean ran up only to stop at the crunch of broken glass underneath his shoes. Next to him stood a broken display case with 19th-century cast iron cookware. The space in the middle was suspiciously empty.

 “You little bastard. I'll wring your little neck like a chicken.” Dean fumed. For a second, he contemplated grabbing a pan, his hand itching for a weapon, but he quickly discarded the idea. If Alice wanted their heads, a frying pan wouldn’t make much difference.

Instead of wasting time searching for the kid from room to room, Dean followed the increasing cold, trusting that the ghost would bring him to Tim. Trying to make as little noise as possible, he passed several rooms full of artifacts that, on any other day, he would've loved exploring with Cas. Even history, as dull as it was, was so much more interesting with Cas around.

Dean stepped around the corner, and all thoughts of Cas vanished. The corridor was gone.

Walls disappeared underneath thick layers of ice, forming an opening into a dark cave.

“Jesus,” Dean hissed, fighting the urge to turn around and run. “What have you done, kid?”

Staring into the gaping maw of frozen hell, faced with the sheer magnitude of Alice’s power, it was hard to believe she had never hurt anyone. It was striking how easy it would be for a being with such power to make someone disappear - fill the whole place with ice and watch them slowly turn into popsicles.

Cas might survive. But then what? He would've traded one prison for another.

“Fuck that.” Dean murmered. Walking into certain death for Cas didn’t seem so bad. With a smile, he stepped forward, the ice crunching beneath his feet. As he passed through the arched opening where doors used to be, he couldn’t help but snicker. “Sam is going to be so pissed at me.”

Top to bottom, the room was covered in ice, except for a space in the middle where a pearl-white wedding dress hung on a headless mannequin. Next to it, cursing up a storm, stood Tim, an iron skillet in one hand and a lighter in the other.

“Step away from the dress,” Dean said as Alice appeared a few feet behind Tim, a look of thunder on her face.

At the sound of Dean’s voice, Tim jumped. “Oh god you almost gave me a heart attack! Look, I found it! I found her dress.”

Slowly, Alice moved her eyes to Dean, one eyebrow raised as if to say, "Deal with it or else," and disappeared.

“Kid, walk away before it’s too late.”

“Don’t call me kid!” Tim shouted, red-faced, gripping the skillet as if he wanted to take a swing at Dean. With a shuddering inhale, he collected himself, and the mild-mannered man was back. "Sorry, sorry. I know you think I'm just a stupid child, but I know what I’m doing. There’s no name of the original owner on the sign, but the year matches. It's hers. I know it's hers. Same ruffles on the shoulders, same neckline.”

“I'm sure you are right, Tim." Dean raised a hand, trying to placate him. "But if you light that thing on fire, we are all dead. Walk away. We’ll figure out another way.”

“I’m not going back empty-handed." Shaking his head, Tim flicked the lighter, but his finger kept slipping. "I can’t!” 

“Empty-handed?” Dean frowned.

“My family! I told you they’re in danger.” Wide, pleading eyes begged Dean to understand.

“Yes, tell us about your family.” Cas stepped into the room, and Dean’s breath caught.

“Damn it, Cas, I got it under control. Get out of here.”

Cas glanced at Dean, an eyebrow raised in annoyance. “Brady’s closest neighbor was the Miller family,” Cas said the name and the temperature in the room plummeted from freezing to unbearable. “Sound familiar?”

Dean’s teeth chattered. “Oh, she doesn’t like that name. Where are your folks from, Timothy? Any relation?”

Despite the cold, red still stained Tim’s cheeks. “Why are we wasting time when the solution is right here!” He yelled, pointing at the dress.

“How about you stop lying and tell us why you’re really here,” Dean said as he slowly reached for his gun.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you. Detectives Plant and Page?” Tim sneered, spit flying from his mouth. “How stupid do you think I am? He sent you, didn’t he? Thinks I can’t finish the job. I found the clue! I found the dress! What did you two do except eye fuck each other all night?”

With an angry swipe of his finger, Tim ignited the lighter, and all around them, four-foot-long ice spears grew out of the walls, pointing directly at them. Dean jumped between Tim and the dress, gun aimed at Tim's head. “Drop it, or I’ll drop you.”

The skillet fell to the ground with a clatter as Tim grabbed the lighter with both hands, shaking like a leaf. “He told me, ‘Last chance, kid.’ I have to… If I fail… … He’ll be angry. So, so angry.” Tim stuttered with fear.

Dean lowered his gun a few inches, the lighter almost at the reaching distance of his outstretched hand. “Whatever happened, whatever trouble you are in, we'll figure it out. Me and Cas, we’ll help you get out of here, and I promise you the bastard who threatened you will not live long. But first, you need to put the fire out.” A myriad of emotions flashed across Tim's face—fear, uncertainty, hope. Slowly, not to spook him, Dean reached for the lighter. “It's going to be ok, kid.”

As soon as the word passed his lips, Dean knew he’d fucked up.

“Don’t call me that!” Dean recoiled at Tim’s scream, his face full of hate. In slow motion, he watched Tim pull out a knife with ease that spoke of years of experience and charged at him at full speed. Too slow, he raised his hand to shoot, but the blade sliced across his wrist, striking the bone. As the gun went flying, he raised his other arm to block another attack, but the pain made him sluggish.  

A strong hand grabbed Dean’s shoulder, and he went flying. He hit the ground with a painful grunt and skidded across the ice, breaking a few nails as he desperately tried to grip the uneven surface and slow down. Too far, he could do nothing but watch the knife slide into Cas' stomach once.

Twice.

Three times.

A scream tore from Dean’s throat as something inside his mind snapped.

***

“Dean, stop!” Dean blinked, confused when Cas yelled into his ear. For some reason, he was fighting Cas with everything he had to break the vise-like grip around his waist. “You’ll kill him! Stop!” Cas lifted him up and away from Tim’s broken body lying on the floor.

Where before he would have relished the feel of those strong hands around him, now repulsion churned his stomach.

“Don’t touch me!” Dean snarled as he shrugged Cas off, scrambling away from the stench of blood, fear, and urine.

Gasping for breath, he tripped and caught himself on the nearest wall, pressing his forehead into the ice - the cold a balm to his feverish skin. He tried to wrap his mind around what had happened but drew a blank.

The wall started shaking underneath his blood-soaked hands, and it took him a second to realize it was him. He clenched his jaw, trying to keep his teeth from chattering, but he couldn’t stop the violent tremors that shook his body from the inside out.

Images flashed before his eyes, a disjointed mess that made his head hurt– steam rising from the warm blood that was slowly spreading across the ice; paralyzing fear as he stared at the black hole in the wall; blood dripping from the edge of a blade; black tentacles around Cas.

The pain ripped through his insides as he watched Castiel disappear into the void. Over and over, and over… A replay of the smile soaked in tears - the last memory Dean had of him.

“It’s over. You’re ok, Dean. Breathe.” The sound of Cas’ voice was like sandpaper across an open wound.

“No, Cas… I’m not… fine. I-” Dean choked on the bile that would not stay down. With a deep shuddering breath, he swallowed, trying to push it down, but it was a losing battle, and he threw up on the floor.

“You're hurt!” Panic laced Cas' voice, and Dean wished he could soothe him, comfort him, and say that everything was fine. But when Cas' hand touched his shoulder, Dean's stomach rebelled. If he had anything left, he would have thrown up again.

“Don’t…” Wiping his mouth on a sleeve, Dean stepped away from him. “I need…” To run. “To go…”

Dean rushed back into the corridor, stumbling like a drunk, and when a door to his right opened on its own, he didn’t question it. Just before his legs gave out, he collapsed onto an antique bed, the door slamming shut behind him.  

There was no way to know how long he stared at the ceiling, trying not to feel nor think, wishing he could turn into a stone and spend eternity blissfully numb.

Hours later, or maybe it had been days, a cold air brushed the left side of his face. “You here to kill me?” Dean asked, not bothering to turn his head to look at her.

“Killing is easy,” Alice said, lying next to him. “But to heal, that is hard. To take something broken, rebuild it, nurture it, and watch it flourish takes time, devotion… love.”

“Love?” Dean snorted in amusement as he absentmindedly rubbed the wrist Tim had slashed. He didn’t even notice when Cas had healed him. “Sometimes love is not enough.”

“When I was little, I wanted to be an actress. I wanted to travel to New York, perform on the stage, and bask in the love of my fans. I definitely didn’t want to become a farmer’s wife.

“The first time Law proposed to me, I laughed in his face - “I will not live surrounded by the stench of cow shit.” I was such a brat.” Alice chuckled at the memory. “That wonderful stubborn man, he never gave up. I kept a list, you know. He asked me one hundred times, and I kept saying no.”

After the blood and ice, it was a relief to listen to Alice’s soothing voice wave a tale of love. Any other time, Dean wouldn’t care to hear about two stubborn idiots in love, but now he clutched to it, as it was the only thing holding the darkness away. “What made you finally say yes?”

“One day, he came to my house and said he had a surprise for me. He put me onto a carriage, a blindfold over my eyes, and off we went. It was the perfect bait, you see. Of course, I could not resist. My curiosity was piqued. I can still remember the sun's warmth on my skin, the gentle sway of the carriage, and then…”

Dean turned to her when she paused, surprised to see tears streaming down the side of her face only to disappear before they touched the sheets.

“And then the smell of heaven. I ripped that thing off my face and burst into tears. That man, that beautiful man, had planted roses all around his house. One for each time I said no to him.” Alice laughed, but her eyes remained sad.  

“What happened to your family?”

“Clifford Miller happened.” Tears turned to purls of ice. “Always looking for ways to get more money, hungry for power, eager to make a name for himself." She pointed at the window. "There used to be a small pond not far from the house. You could see it through that window. One day, we found three cows dead beside it. We thought they had eaten something bad or were struck by illness. A man came from the town to investigate. He found oil in the water."

“Fuck.” Dean cursed, knowing what came next. Human greed was always so predictable.

“That’s what Law said. He paid the man to lose the report, and we buried the pond. That man took our money to stay silent and Clifford’s to talk. When he found out, he wanted to rip into the land and destroy our home. It would make us all rich, he said, richer than gods themselves. He didn’t take it lightly when Law told him where to stick his riches.”

Dean chuckled. “Good man.”

 “The best.” Alice’s smile quickly disappeared. “One evening, I was alone with my little one. Such beautiful eyes... She had Law wrapped around her little finger. I swear that man spoiled her rotten. Clifford came knocking, drunk, screaming how selfish we were, how the whole town suffered because of our stupidity… and then… I don’t remember much of what happened next, but still, every time I close my eyes, I hear Law screaming for me not to leave him."

“I’m sorry for-”

“I don’t need your pity.” Alice cut him off, her eyes flashing with anger. “They put shackles on my love, dragged him away kicking and screaming. Hanged him like a dog. As my blood soaked into the bones of this house, I swore they would never get their hands on his land. His home.”

Dean was in awe of Alice. If he were in her shoes, his whole family killed, there was no way he’d have managed to keep his sanity. The museum would have turned into a slaughterhouse as he exacted his revenge on the Millers, one generation after another.

“You took a huge gamble on us.”

“Did I? You boys are more interested in each other than getting rich on oil.” Alice winked at him mischievously.  

“Yeah…” Just the thought of Cas made Dean’s stomach churn. Was this his new reality, where he couldn’t even look at him? Was this what it felt like to go insane? You were fine one moment, and the next, the things that once mattered now made you break out in cold sweat? “We’ll ensure there are no records of oil left.”

“You won’t find any. The Millers made sure they are the only ones who know. In twenty years, the next one will come to try his luck, and it will start again. My own personal hell.”

“Not if I erase their memories,” Cas said from the door, and Dean jerked as if electrocuted. Inside him, a storm of emotions raged - too many to make sense of what he was feeling.

Alice sat up, looking at Cas with hope in her eyes, and for the first time, Dean saw a glimpse of the innocent woman she once was. “You can do that?”

Cas eyes flared, alight with his grace. “I promise you this house will remain standing here long after the last Miller passed from this world.” Dean shivered from head to toe from the power in his voice. This wasn’t a simple promise. It was a vow made by a warrior of heaven. “It’s time for you to see your Law again.”

“I… I’m afraid.” Alice whispered, looking lost. “What if he’s forgotten me? It’s been so long.”

“Impossible,” Cas’ eyes cut to Dean, pinning him in place. “If somebody cut off your hand, would you forget it was ever there, or would you spend an eternity missing a part of yourself.” It was only after Cas turned his attention to Alice that Dean was able to draw a breath into his starved lungs. Reeling from Cas' words, he didn’t even register an ice-cold kiss on his cheek.

With a long sigh, Alice disappeared, leaving Dean alone with Cas. 

Chapter Text

The shutters slammed open, and the warm wind blew through windows, filling the house with the smell of flowers.

They were finally free, but Dean felt no relief. He stared at the ceiling, wishing they could’ve stayed inside the haunted house forever just to avoid this exact moment. The awkward silence hung between them, neither eager to break it first.

Faced with the infinite patience of an angel, with a tired shake of his head, Dean gave up first. “He dead?”

“Healed and sleeping.”

Shame, Dean thought as he fought to keep the memories buried, but they kept pushing to the forefront of his mind. “I watched you die.” Dean wanted to tap himself on the shoulder for managing to say the words without screaming.

“The knife didn’t hurt me.” Dean smiled bitterly at Cas’ attempt to play dumb as if he didn’t know exactly what Dean meant.

 “You got sucked into a black hole, and I could do nothing but watch. I prayed to you.” The back of Dean’s eyes stung, but he refused to let the tears flow. “I prayed to Jack. I prayed to any deity I could find. I prayed and prayed and prayed until I lost my voice. If it wasn’t for Sam…” Dean swallowed thickly, unable to think about that particular nightmare. “I took matters into my own hands, got you out... I refuse to go through that again. I won’t. I can’t.” He pressed his palms into his eyes until stars exploded behind his closed lids. He. Would. Not. Cry.

When Cas finally spoke, his voice small and sounding nothing like him, Dean had to strain to hear. “I took advantage of you.”

It was the last thing Dean had expected to hear. “What are you talking about?”

“In the empty. When we- When I attacked you.”

In shock, Dean swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. “Attack?” What the hell was Cas talking about? “You mean when we… when we had sex? That wasn’t you ata-”

Cas lifted a hand. “Please let me finish. I… I was hoping by some miracle we would both forget it ever happened and-”

Dean reared back as if hit. To think that what to Dean was one of the most defining moments in life had meant so little to Cas hurt more than Tim’s blade scraped against his bone. “Right. No problem. Call it forgotten-”

“For once in your fucking life, shut up and listen!” Cas exploded, his eyes flashing blue, the anger coming off him in waves. Stunned, Dean froze. Cas glared at him for a second longer, and when he was sure Dean would not interrupt him again, he closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, trying to regain composure.

“Do you feel the breeze? I can smell jasmine, gardenias, lilacs, and roses. So many different kinds of roses…” Cas smiled wistfully, a small tilt in the corner of his lips that quickly disappeared. “The air in the empty smelled of nothing. No flowers, no sunshine, no stars, nothing to cling to. Nothing but you. Well, not the real you…”  Cas shifted on his feet, staring intently at the floor.

It was strange to feel jealousy toward a fictional copy of yourself, but there Dean was, painfully digging his fingers into his thighs, imagining they were wrapped around his clone’s neck, squeezing the life out of him. The other Dean was there comforting Cas in the empty, offering support and love while Dean was busy chasing clues around the world.

Dean didn’t want to listen anymore about Cas' happy little family. He tensed to get up, only to freeze when Cas looked up from the floor and straight into Dean’s soul.

“He was nothing but a cardboard cutout of you - a constant reminder it was all a lie… I was tired. So very tired.” A look of such pain crossed Cas’ face that only his glare kept Dean from running to him. “I’ve put the kids to bed and told myself that’s it no more. I’ll wake up tomorrow one last time, have breakfast with the kids, send them to school, mow the lawn, clean the house, have dinner with them, and… him, go to bed, and never wake up again. Let it all dissolve into the empty. Finally, rest. Forget it all.”

 “That was the morning I arrived?” Dean asked, fearing the answer.

“Yes.” Cas’ eyes were empty of emotion as he lost himself in his memories.

Dean buried his face in his hands, trying not to think about how close he’d been to losing Cas. It was only when he entered the empty and saw how vast it was that Dean realized a huge flaw in their plan - the charm they’d made to locate Cas would have expired long before Dean got to him. If it wasn’t for the Empty leading him straight to Cas… Both of them would have perished in there.

“I woke up and…” Cas squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remember every detail. “I thought that’s it, I’ve finally gone insane.” Cas shivered as a single tear slid down his cheek. “The room was filled with the smell of leather seats, beer, and aftershave… The smell of home. The smell of you.

“I opened my eyes, and there sitting in my chair was the most beautiful being I have ever seen.” Cas reached out with his hand as if he could touch the memory, but there was nothing there but air. With an angry shake of his head, he let his hand fall and opened his eyes to stare at the spot above Dean’s head. “I knew you were a figment of my imagination, a ghost my frayed mind had conjured, and I didn’t care. Even if you hadn’t been real, the possibility of entering the void without ever having kissed you was… unimaginable. I selfishly took what wasn’t mine. I used you for my pleasure. What I did, the transgression, it was inexcusable.”

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. What Cas said was so far from what had happened that his brain had a problem comprehending. "Let me see if I got this right—you ran because you thought… what, that you raped me?” When Cas nodded, Dean choked out, “Jesus Christ.”

 “When I woke up back in the bunker… The thought of seeing disgust in your eyes, the resentment. Hate. I couldn’t… I didn’t think, I panicked… I ran.”

A laugh escaped Dean, a bitter sound full of pain and disbelief, and once it started, he couldn’t stop. He laughed and laughed, and when Cas frowned at him in confusion, he laughed some more until his stomach hurt, and there was only pain. “Bullshit!”

“Dean, I-”

“No, Castiel!” Dean’s bark cut him off. “I’ve heard enough. I can count over a dozen instances when you lied to me over the years, but this is by far the most ridiculous lie you’ve concocted. Not only are you lying straight to my face, but you're also lying to yourself.” Dean watched Cas swallow nervously, and he knew if he backed off now, he would lose Cas forever. “Tell me what really happened. Tell me, or we are done.” Cas squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head in denial. “Say it!”  

At Dean’s roar, Cas whimpered like a wounded animal. “I can’t.”

“Tell me!”

“I can’t!” Cas screamed and slammed the back of his head against the wall with such force a crack appeared in the paint. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” The chant spilled out of his mouth, mixing with the dull thud of his head hitting the wall over and over.

“Hey!” Horrified, Dean catapulted off the bed and grabbed Cas' shoulders to try and stop him, but it was like trying to stop a thousand pounds bolder. “Stop Cas. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. Cas, stop,” Dean pleaded, but it was in vain. “I’m sorry I pushed you! Please, Cas, stop!” He screamed into the vacant eyes, the sound of Cas' skull hitting the brick wall making his teeth ache.

If ever there was a moment when Dean wanted to punch himself for being an asshole, this was it. He’d gone too far. He knew how fragile Cas was, and still, selfishly, he demanded answers.

Not caring that he might end up with broken bones, Dean placed his hand at the back of Cas’ head to try and cushion the hit, only to recoil at the wetness under his fingers. Blood trickled down the wall, too much for it to be a mere flesh wound.

“No, no, no, no. An angel shouldn’t bleed this much! What the fuck is happening to you?” Panicked, he looked around the room for anything that could help him, but besides a bed, a chair, and a few paintings, there was nothing.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…”

“Snap out of it!” In desperation, Dean slapped him, putting all his muscles into the swing, and nothing. The chant continued. Cas sounded so much like the Empty, insane and delirious, Dean wanted to throw up.

What had he done?

“Please, Cas, come back to me!” He grabbed Cas' face, trying not to recoil at how cold his skin was. “Listen to my voice, buddy, common. I’m right here! Please Cas! I can’t lose you!”

But it was all in vain. No pulse beat beneath his fingers.

Cas was gone.

Dean saw it in his eyes - the empty pools of murky blue that stared right through him. What he held in his hands was an empty husk.

“Nonononono not like this Cas! Please, god, not like this!” Dean wept as his whole body folded on itself, and his right knee hit the floor with a painful thud he didn’t feel.

Cas was gone.

Something cold pressed into Dean’s hand, and shocked, he realized he was holding a gun - bullet in the barrel, ready to fire, and no memory of pulling it out.

It would be a mercy. An angel blade for Cas, a bullet for Dean.

Why fight when there was nothing to be done?

Dean had never gotten him out of the empty. The date, the ghost, the vampires… It was all just a fever dream he wished had been a reality. What he had pulled from that hell was merely a shadow of an angel, and when the light touched it, it crumbled and scattered into the wind.

Cas was gone. Why prolong his suffering?

 With a snap of fingers, it would be done. No more pain. Blessed silence and then nothing.

Dean would go to heaven or hell, and Cas… Cas would forever be lost to him. He'd be back in the empty, asleep, for all eternity in the cold and dark. He’d die never knowing how much he was loved.

“No.” A whispered defiance passed Dean’s lips, bringing calmness to his scattered thoughts. There was no universe in which Dean would allow Empty to have him. Never again.

A memory hit him with such force that he would’ve fallen if he wasn’t on the floor already – the Empty wearing Cas’ face mumbling thoughts that were not its own. When it happened, Dean thought the creature was crazy, but what if… What if Cas was the insane one, and the Empty was just channeling it? Mimicking what he’d seen. Dean had pulled out Cas’ body, but what if part of his mind was still trapped in there? 

 Lost and adrift in the memories of an empty dream.

“No!” Dean looked at the gun still in his hand, horrified at what he’d almost done. He thumbed the safety back on and threw the gun across the room.

What Cas needed was something to grab onto, a lifeline he could follow back home.

Back to Dean.

Letting his instincts guide him, Dean surged to his feet, and with all the strength he had, he grabbed Cas’ throat and squeezed. All his pain, all his love, years of memories of the two of them side by side, fighting, laughing, bleeding - he forced it all into a single word.

“Stop!” Dean ordered, and Cas froze. “Look at me.”

A slow blink and nothing.

“Look. At. Me.” Dean commanded, putting his will against that of an angel. 

A glimmer of light in the depths of blue eyes, there and gone, and with a shuddering gasp, Cas broke out of the nightmare that had him. His eyes, wild with fear, fell on Dean, and his brow furrowed in confusion as if he didn’t recognize him.

“D- Dean?” Cas stammered, unsure what he was seeing. “Are you real?”

The sound of Cas’ voice almost brought Dean to his knees. “I’m right here, buddy.” Drowning in relief, Dean relaxed the hold he had on Cas, but shaking hands grabbed his forearm, keeping him in place.

“Dean! Don’t let go!” Cas cried, gasping for breath as if there wasn’t enough air in the room. “Don’t let me go!”  

“Never!” As the vow passed Dean’s lips, he felt it sink deep into his core and wrap around his soul.

With a gut-wrenching cry, Cas fell into Dean’s arms, hands clawing at his back, trying to burrow under Dean’s skin. “Don’t let go, don’t let go!”

“I got you, baby,” With one hand in Cas’ hair, the other tightly holding the back of his neck, Dean pressed him against his heart. “You’re home. You’re back.”

Shaking violently, Cas buried his face in Dean’s neck. “I- Dean, I don’t- Are you real?”

Dean kissed his hair, blinking away the tears. “Yes, I’m real. This is real. The house around us. The air.” Dean tried to reassure him, but Cas only shook more, grabbing at him in fright. “The flowers, Cas, can you smell the flowers? Tell me what you smell. Common buddy, tell me how many flowers you can smell.”

“I-” Cas hesitated uncertainly. “Um, lilacs... roses… coffee, honey, gunpowder- It’s you! It really is you!” With a sob, he crumbled to the ground, taking Dean with him.

***

It wasn’t the most comfortable position, sitting on the ground, his back propped against the hard wall, but there was nothing on earth that would make Dean move. Not when it meant disturbing Cas, who was lying curled up on the ground, his face buried in Dean’s stomach. At some point, Cas finally stopped shivering and appeared to be asleep as Dean gently ran his fingers through his hair.

Dean didn't know what he was feeling. There was relief that everything had turned out okay, but also a lingering fear that this was just a temporary reprieve, and whatever was wrong with Cas wouldn't be cured so easily.

 “I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened,” Cas said, his voice muffled against Dean’s shirt.

“No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have pushed you. If only I kept my mouth shut.”

Cas exhaled tiredly. “No, you were right.”

“Right about what?”

“I lied. To myself.”

“We don’t have to talk about that.”

With a groan, moving slowly like an old man, Cas turned and looked at Dean. “It’s all right. I won’t lose myself again. Just… hold me. I have to-. No, I need to tell you. I thought if I ignored it… I only ended up hurting you. The dream you saw in the empty-” Cas’ voice caught, unable to continue.

“I loved that house.” When Cas frowned at him in disbelief, Dean poured all the sincerity into his voice, “It’s true. I mean, have you seen it? It was so welcoming and warm, and- That carpet! Man, that was the softest thing my feet have ever touched.” He smiled, stroking the crease between Cas’ eyes until it melted away. “But I have to be honest with you, the thought of you and him… Yes, I know, it wasn’t real. It’s just… Fuck I really wanted to kill him. Stop laughing, I’m serious.”

“Dean, I never even kissed him.”

Dean blinked in confusion. “That’s not what the Empty said. It gave me a front-row seat to the entire kitchen debacle," Dean pitched his voice high, waving his hand around. “Oh no, I burned my finger. Save me, angel! Suck it to make the boo-boo better.”

Cas poked him in the ribs, smiling faintly. “He was a copy of you, you know.”

“I sound nothing like that!” Dean exclaimed in mock indignation.

“No, you don’t.” It was a relief to see a spark of old Cas, but his eyes were still haunted. “Touching him felt like touching a wall - cold and empty. No soul, no awareness besides the one I gave him… no dreams, no hopes, no fears. An empty puppet.”

“Must have been quite a shock when I appeared.” Dean traced the shell of Cas' ear, unable to stop touching him.

“That’s an understatement.” Cas closed his eyes and sank into the touch. “I’ve forgotten what you look like. The real you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I never knew when the Empty would come for me. Sometimes, weeks months passed without an attack. It was all a game to it. Waiting for me to let my guard down and… It would come through the shadows. The cold and the dark.” Cas grabbed Dean’s hand in a bruising grip. “Its claws kept ripping away my memoirs of you.”

“But you beat it. I saw the photos of us and the house.”

“All was gone but your face. I touched insanity, and it welcomed me with open arms." Cas lifted his hand and, with a gentle touch, traced the side of Dean’s face, his eyes noting every freckle, every groove, and wrinkle. "Among the ruins of my mind, I carved a little place and hid your name and face there. The only safe haven where I could keep you safe was a house of cards in the middle of a storm, just waiting to be blown away.”

Stunned, Dean wiped away the tears and glanced away at the open window, a curtain gently swaying in the breeze, much like the one in Cas’ dream. No, not a dream, a nightmare in which he stood unmoving while a monster flayed his mind all because he refused to give up Dean. He'd thought he knew what Cas meant when he said he loved him. Hell, he’d dreamt of those three words every night until he was afraid to fall asleep for fear of waking up screaming Cas’ name.

Strange how two emotions can exist side by side, he thought, as the joy made his heart race and deep sadness for Cas’ fate streamed down his face. 

“That’s why I ran,” Cas whispered, and Dean looked at him in shock.

“What? I don’t understand.”

“You can’t even look at me,” Cas said, his voice bitter.

And there it was again, the beginning of the lie behind which Cas was hiding. Dean bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood, resisting the urge to call Cas out and demand the truth. Instead, he smiled and pretended to be oblivious. “Cas, I just found out my friend was tortured until he went insane. I needed a moment to process it.”

“A friend?” The impenetrable mask was back, standing between them like a hundred-foot wall. “Is that what I am?”

With a hand under his chin, he tipped Cas’ head up until he had no choice but to look at Dean. “I asked a boy out on a date, bought him some honey to suck on and VIP tickets for an escape room adventure in a one-of-a-kind haunted house, and at the end of it all, he asks me that?” The smile on Cas’ face grew until he seemed to be glowing with joy. “Hm, I must not have been clear enough. Well, sir, let me set the record straight—I promise you my intentions,” he said with a wink, bopping Cas on the nose, “are not honorable.”

Cas’ whole body shook with laughter. “Is that right?”

“Yeah, that’s right. Now the question is, what do you want?”

Swallowing nervously, Cas looked at Dean and whispered, “Everything.”

As the last piece of the wall between them melted away, Dean found himself falling into Cas’ eyes, closer and closer to the lips he’d been dreaming of tasting for so long. A shiver passed through Cas, which Dean thought was all for him until he saw Cas’ eyes glance fearfully at the thick shadows in the corner of the room.

“Cas,” Dean called softly, patiently waiting until he stepped back from the ledge and looked at Dean, “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

“Please,” Cas sighed in relief. “Wait, what about Timothy?”

“Oh, I know exactly what to do with him,” Dean smiled, thinking about the nightmare that Tim was about to wake up to.

Chapter Text

A bird chirped to Dean’s left as the first rays of sunlight broke over the horizon. He closed his eyes and inhaled the fresh air, taking it all in – the slight breeze on his skin, the sound of crickets, the smell of grass, grateful for witnessing another morning. It was a ritual he'd started a few years back. A small reminder of how lucky he was to have lived through the night.

But, today, a strange feeling crept up on him. The sunlight was a bit brighter than usual, the air sweeter, and for a second, he thought they were a symptom of a concussion. Except he felt fine. There was no dizziness or pain, nothing to explain this strange feeling in his bones that made him restless. As the first ray of sunshine touched his face, it finally hit him - there was no usual trepidation about the upcoming hunt. No fear of somebody coming after them. There was nothing but him, the birds, and the dawn that smelled like a new beginning.

Sure, there was still so much to do, especially with Cas, who'd need time to heal. But for now, as he stood leaning against Tim’s brand-new Audi, Dean’s mind was at peace.

Well not new anymore.

 Watching Cas crash it at 60 miles an hour was a sight to behold. The front of the car was beautifully wrapped around a tree, the parts of the motor spread into the nearby bushes. With oil leaking everywhere, it was a miracle that it didn’t catch on fire.

There was a moment there when Dean’s heart felt like it would burst right out of his chest, the fear that Cas would end up hurt riding him hard. But when Cas popped up next to him, smiling like a kid in a candy store, he pushed it down and let Cas' joy seep into him. In the end, the whole idea of a date had been about making Cas feel alive again. To help him put aside thoughts of the empty. And there was no way Dean would allow the little voice of fear to spoil the smile on Cas’ face. So he pushed it all down and listened to Cas gush about how driving such a beautiful machine into a tree was almost as good as flying.

It wasn’t an opinion Dean shared with him. To Dean, the yellow monstrosity looked prettier now in pieces, with steam coming out of it. 

“It’s done.” Cas appeared out of thin air, and Dean’s heart jumped three feet into the air.

“Damn it, Cas! We talked about this. Warn a guy.” Dean rubbed his chest, willing his heart to slow down.

“I thought you’d get used to it by now,” Cas smirked without an ounce of guilt. The bastard had done it on purpose.

“Brat, I’m going to put a bell on you,” Dean grumbled, trying not to smile, secretly enjoying this side of Cas. If crashing cars and giving Dean heart attacks was a way to keep him happy, alive, and not an empty husk Dean had glimpsed back at the museum, then Dean would keep his mouth shut. No matter how reckless Cas’ behavior was.

Dean nodded at the black plastic bag in Cas’ hand. “Do I want to know where you got that?”

“Probably not,” Cas blinked at him, full of false innocence.

Dean shook his head. “You’re right. Ignorance is bliss. Give it here.” With a gloved hand, he opened the passenger door, pulled out a knife, and stabbed the package, spreading the white powder all over the car. What was left, he threw on the back seat. “This will put him away for a few years.”

“Oh, he’ll probably stay in prison for a decade or more,” Cas said beside him.

“What do you mean?”

“That’s pure-grade cocaine,” Cas said smugly. “Police will have no problem tracing it back to the Mexican cartel.”

“Cartel! Jesus, Cas, you were gone for 15 minutes.”

“What?" Cas frowned. "You said get drugs.”

“Yeah, but I thought you were gonna steal them from a local dealer, not start a war with the cartel!” Dean exclaimed, feeling his pressure skyrocket, unable to shake the vision of Tony Montana screaming, ‘Say hello to my little friend!’

“I was in and out of there in less than a second. And I made sure nobody could see me.” Cas stared at the ground, dejected. “I thought you’d have more faith in me.”

“Shit,” Dean swore, feeling like an ass. “I do, Cas. I trust you, but I also worry. Can’t help it. I don’t want to see you get hurt.” He rubbed the back of his neck, hating how totally out of line he was. “I might have overreacted a bit.”

Toeing the stone next to his foot, Cas said. “You can’t wrap me in a bubble wrap and lock me away, Dean.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea.” When Cas glared at him, Dean raised both his hands, laughing. “Ok, ok. I know. I got a few things I got to deal with.”

“I guess we both have a few things we got to work on,” Cas smiled tentatively, and Dean sighed in relief.

“Yeah, you could say that.” Dean snorted, thinking about the mountain of trauma they both carried on their backs.

A low groan drew their attention to the car. They leaned down and looked inside at Tim, slumped unconscious over the steering wheel.

Dean clapped Cas on the shoulder. “Good thing you didn’t heal him completely.”

The kid’s face was covered in cuts and bruises, the remnants of Dean’s beating. With a couple more he’d gotten when Dean not-so-gently maneuvered him into the seat, he looked like a proper crash survivor.

For a second, Cas' eyes blazed blue. “I’m an angel, not a saint,” He growled and slammed the door shut.

As they walked back to Baby, Dean thought about all the messages they’d found on Tim’s phone, among them a long exchange between him and Senior Miller. Among the long list of instructions, orders, and a number of derogatory names he called his son, he’d also threatened to disown him if he didn’t get the job done. Apparently, all the people they hired to burn down the museum had failed, and Daddy dearest blamed Tim for it.

Finding out Cas got stabbed because a spoiled child didn’t want to lose a trust fund had killed the last piece of compassion Dean had for Tim. As far as he was concerned, serving time was too light of a punishment for the little fucker.

But Cas had vetoed throwing him off a bridge, so here they were.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m beat. I’ll go find us a motel.” Dean pulled out a burner phone and threw it to Cas. “I’ll send you the address.”

 “I won’t be long.” Cas pocketed the phone.

“If the dear old father gives you trouble, call me.” Dean turned toward Baby when a stab of unease hit him. “Oh, and Cas… um…”

“No more running. I’ll be there.” Cas promised and disappeared.

“You better,” Dean grumbled, lovingly sliding a hand over Baby. With one last glance at the crash site, he slid into the driver's seat and drove off.

Ten minutes later, the sheriff's department received an anonymous tip about the car crash on the edge of town. Two hours later, the local news station reported about the arrest of Mayor David Miller’s son. Twenty-eight hours later, the mayor announced he’d be withdrawing his candidacy from the Senate race.  

****

Stomach full, finally feeling like a human being, Dean sat in the booth, sipping slowly a second cup of coffee. His mind blissfully quiet, he idly watched passersby through the diner’s window when his phone rang.

He answered without looking at the number. “Hey, baby-”

“Well, hello to you too, baby,” Sam purred, then burst out laughing so hard that Dean had to lower the volume to avoid permanent hearing loss.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean grumbled, his face burning. “What do you want? I’m busy.”

Sam snorted at Dean’s lie. “Just wanted to check how your midlife crisis is going.”

“Oh fuck off!” Dean swore, wincing when the old lady from the next booth glared at him scandalized. If she had pearls, she’d be clutching them for her dear life.

Dean mouthed sorry and lowered his voice. “Well, I found him…” he trailed off, unsure what to say.

“How bad is he?” Sam asked, concerned.

“He looks fine on the outside. But he’s…” Dean paused, thinking about the cartel fiasco. Maybe Cas had been safe the whole time, but stealing from a gang of that size was like poking a nest of killer bees. Even the way he laughed when he slammed the car into the tree was slightly disconcerting. “He’s reckless. Yeah, that’s a good word for it.”

“Reckless how? ‘Hell yeah, I’m alive,’ or ‘hell yeah, let's crash and burn?'”

“Well, that's a million-dollar question,” Dean murmured as he absentmindedly twirled the spoon around the half-empty cup.

“Sounds about right.” Sam sounded like he expected it.

“You knew this would happen?” Dean frowned, feeling hurt. Why not tell him? He’d have more time to prepare. If he’d known, he have done it all differently. He’d-

“No. He’s an angel. Nobody can know for certain how he’d react to anything.”

“But?”

“But it crossed my mind. I mean, did you forget what a mess we were when we got out of hell.”

“Feels like a several lifetimes ago.”

“Sure does. But what I want to say is, he spent a year in the empty, Dean.”

“Shit,” Dean swore when it finally hit him what Sam was trying to say. A few months in the hole was 40 years for Dean. God only knew how slow the time passed in the empty. Well, God and Cas. And God was dead. “We got better after a while.”

The lie tasted bitter as memories surfaced from the far recess of Dean’s mind of a few wrecked rooms. For days on end, he stayed awake, terrified of falling asleep and the nightmares that would come. He cleared his throat and shoved them all back into a drawer. “I mean, eventually.”

“Yeah, we got better,” Sam laughed, full of happiness, not an ounce of pain or regret in his voice. And Dean’s eyes burned with how proud he was of Sam. To face monsters was easy. But to face your demons and come out the other and still be able to laugh took balls of steel. “Cas will be all right. Just give him time.”

 “Of course he will. I’m just not sure... What if I say something wrong or do something that sets him off and-” Dean swallowed, thinking about the wall in the museum and the bloody crack that spread all the way to the ceiling. “I don’t want to make him worse.”

“Dean, he’s a gazillion years old, not a child. How about you ask him what he needs.”

“Oh yeah, how did I not think of that when we’re so good at communicating.” Dean sighed in frustration, making Sam laugh. “You are disgustingly happy today.”

“Well, it’s a good day.”

“Let me guess. You found an obscure papyrus with ancient salad recipes. ”

“That would be cool. But no. Eileen’s pregnant.”

“What?” Dean must have heard him wrong.

“I’m going to be a father!" Sam cried. "Can you believe that?”

“Are you kidding me? That’s, that’s… awesome!” Dean choked in shock, slow to process what Sam was saying.

“Yeah, awesome…” Sam paused, sounding uncertain.

“Hey! None of that now. You are not him. You’ll never be a father like he was. You hear me. That kid will grow up knowing he’s loved and respected. He’ll probably choose some stupid ass school and be successful and spoiled and make stupid mistakes like any other kid.” Dean finished, surprised when a small crack appeared on the cup from how tightly he gripped it. Slowly, he put it down.

“You done?” Sam said, a slight hitch in his voice, and Dean just knew he was biting his lip, trying not to laugh.

Dean groaned. “That’s not what you were about to say?”

“No.” Sam burst out laughing. “But I appreciate you saying that. So sweet. Really. My heart can’t take it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean grumbled, grateful Sam couldn’t see how much his face was burning.   

When he could breathe again, Sam said, suddenly serious. “I wanted to tell you that we’ve been thinking, Eileen and I, about a name for the little one. So, um…”

“Please don’t tell me you’ll name him something lame like Samuel Junior. That would be-”

“Charlie. We were thinking about naming her or him Charlie. I know how much…” Sam’s voice faded away as a memory grabbed Dean, transporting him back to the tiny house in the middle of the empty. The memory was so vivid he thought he could reach out and touch the red letters that spelled Charlie on the door.

Not caring about who could see him, Dean let the tears fall. It seemed that Cas’ dream was slowly becoming a reality.

He wiped away the tears with a paper tissue, trying to focus on what Sam was saying. “If you don’t like it, I mean, if it’s too much or too soon-”

“No, Sam,” Dean cut him off. “It’s perfect.”

For a long time, just thinking about Charlie was too painful, but now the only thing on his mind was how ecstatic she would’ve been to know her name lived on. “She would’ve loved it.”

“Yeah. She was the best of us…” Sam’s voice trailed off as they both got lost in the memories of her. For a minute, they sat in comfortable silence before Sam cleared his throat. “Dean, I want you there. All the birthdays, all the boring school recitals. I want them to have a big family that will spoil them rotten. You hear me?” Sam almost growled at the end, turning the question into an order.

“Hmm, domestic life.” Dean scratched his four-day-long stubble, thinking. “I could try doing that. But Sam, you got to promise me one thing.”

“What’s that.”

“I’m teaching the kid how to drive.”

“Damn it, Dean, it was one time. One little scratch. Jeez, you'd think I wracked the car.”

“You did, Sam. You did. The emotional toll did a number on my soul. I could not survive it if-”

“Oh shut up, jerk!”

“Bitch.”

“Hey, Dean, you’re going to be an uncle.”

“Oh fuck!” Dean gasped as it finally hit him, sending Sam into another fit of laughter.

“Before I leave you to process that, tell me, how are you holding up?”

Dean glanced at his left forearm and quickly away, unwilling to let those memories spoil the warm feeling in his chest. “A few nightmares here and there… Better now that I found him.” Dean tried to lie even though he knew it was futile. To Sam, he was an open book.  

“Right… You want me to come?”

“No! It’s fine.” Dean flinched at the thought of pulling Sam away from Eileen. There was no way he’d let his weakness stand between Sam and his future family. “I’m fine.”

“Dean, we’ve talked about this,” Sam said, concerned. “If you feel like it’s getting to be too much.”

 “Sam, I know. I got this. I promise.”

“Ok.” Sam sighed, letting it go. “Say hi to Cas, and if you need me, I’m a phone call away.”

“Love you too, doofus,” Dean said and hung up. Shaking his head, Dean could not wrap his head around how fast things were changing - from living day to day, just trying to survive, to soon chasing little Charlies around.

An uncle. How about that?

Yeah, he’d keep his promise. No more dying. No more risking his life on hunts. It was time to hang it all up and let the next generation take over. It had been such a long time since he had allowed himself to dream of having children. Or a family. But now…

Maybe he and Cas could make Cas’ dream house a reality.

“Well, now. It’s been ages since I’ve seen that look on someone’s face.”

Dean looked at the waitress, who poured steaming coffee into his cup, noting how most of the wrinkles on her face were from years of smiling. “What look is that?”

“Like you had one of those, what you call them,” She paused, thinking, then snapped her fingers. “epitaphs!”

Dean choked, barely managing not to spew coffee all over the table. Coughing, he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “You mean epiphany?”

“That’s what I said, epiphany.” She shook her head in annoyance, the heavy earrings jiggling like tiny bells.

“I sure did.” Dean pulled money from his wallet and placed it on the table, making sure to include a generous tip. “I just realized I’m gonna put a ring on an angel.”

“Tsk!” She rolled her eyes at Dean, her lips curling into the beginning of a smile. “I never know what you young people say anymore. All those new words, the slang and tic-tac, I swear, ten more years and English will disappear.”

“I reckon you’re right.” With the last sip of coffee, Dean got out of the booth. “And I can't wait to see it. You have a nice day, ma'am.”

“You too, hon.”

Dean walked out of the diner feeling lighter than he had in years. Looking left and right, he crossed the street to where Baby was parked next to a motel. Try as he might, he could not get the silly smile off his face or stop thinking about Cas’ dream house.

A family. With Cas by his side.

Out of the back seat, he pulled out the bag that contained just a few essentials. It was so easy to imagine an entire house that he could fill with stuff and not worry about conserving space. Or worry that it might end up burned down in a surprise attack. No more long nights spent on the road or trying to fall asleep bent like a pretzel in the back seat. He’d have a bed, and every morning, he’d wake up curled around Cas, both of them warm and safe.

Cas appeared beside him, his head cocked to the side, studying Dean. “What are you smiling about?”

“You’re the second person to ask me that this morning.” Dean walked up the few steps to their door and took out the key.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you smile like that. It’s a good smile. It suits you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m feeling hap-” Dean opened the door to their room and froze, staring at a cockroach that scurried across the floor and disappeared underneath the bed. And just like that, all the joy evaporated like a popped balloon. “Now I know why this place was so cheap.”

Cas peered inside over Dean’s shoulder. “Let’s get back on the road. We'll find something better.”

“The next one could be a dump, too.” Before he could step inside, Cas grabbed his shoulder.

“Dean, you’re not thinking clearly. Look at this place. It’s a petri dish of diseases and filth. There is no way you are stepping foot inside. I know you will fight me on this, like always, but I will not allow you to-,” Cas paused, squinting at him. “You are doing it again.”

“Hm?” Dean hummed in confusion.

“You’re smiling.”

“I've got a beautiful angel all ruffled and worried about my well-being. What’s not to smile about? I won a lottery.” Cas blushed, and Dean lost his train of thought. Huh, would you look at that? Cas literally made him stupid. “You’re right. But I’m too tired to drive and... Wait a minute, you can fly.”

“Yes, Dean, I’m an angel.”

“All right, smartass. What I meant to say is that we can go wherever we want. We don’t have to drive. And anyway, Baby will be ok here for a day or two.”

“True. Where would you like to go?”

“I…” Dean’s voice trailed off. With the whole planet open to him, it was suddenly hard to decide. Or maybe it didn’t really matter where, as long as they were together. And just like that, he knew the answer. “Those photographs on the wall of your dream house.”

Cas frowned in confusion. “What about them?”

“There was one, right at the bottom, a blue frame speckled with white.” Dean only had a vague memory of it, but the way they were smiling got stuck in his mind.

 “Ah, yes. I think I remember which one you mean. You want to go there?”

“The place does exist? We aren’t going to appear in the middle of a volcano?”

Cas rolled his eyes, annoyed. “It’s a real place. I wasn’t that insane.”

“That’s not what I-” Dean stopped talking, feeling like an asshole for mentioning the empty. “Never mind. Let’s just forget about it.” He stepped into the room when Cas grabbed his shoulder and stopped him at the threshold. “What are you doing?” Cas' eyes burned with light. “No, you don’t have to-,” and the motel disappeared.

Chapter Text

“do that…” Dean slowly closed his mouth, staring at the horizon where the sky met the sea in an explosion of colors. “Is this real?” He whispered, afraid his voice would make it all disappear, and he’d wake up in some shitty motel alone.

“It’s real,” Cas lowered himself to the ground and exhaled, all tension leaving his body like he was finally home.

“Wow.” Overwhelmed, Dean toed off his shoes and sat next to him. Not taking his eyes off the waves crashing into the beach, he pulled off his socks, threw them over his shoulder, and buried his feet into the warm sand. “Oh, damn.” A groan escaped him, an indecent sound that had Cas chuckling, but he couldn’t help it. The ache that was a constant companion for the last few days was finally ebbing away, swept into the sea by the warm water splashed around his ankles. “Where are we? No, actually, tell me later. Let’s just soak this in.”

The beach stretched for miles in both directions, not a soul in sight. Just palm trees and gold sand as far as the eye could see. To Dean, it felt like they were the last two people on the earth. The waves hit the shore, the sea foam tickling his feet, and all he could think about was how lucky he was.

They had survived. After everything, they had managed to reach the end of the road, and damn, it was a beautiful thing to see - Cas sat beside him, gazing at the gray clouds with a small smile, Sam was about to be a father... All the things Dean had never dared to hope for were coming to pass, and he'd survived long enough to see them.

Comfortable silence stretched between them until the first lighting pierced the sky in half, and a few seconds later, thunder roared in the distance.

Fear crept into the corner of his lizard brain, just as it always did whenever he let himself feel happiness, whispering that it wouldn't last. That just around the corner, disaster waited, ready to snatch Cas from him and tear away Sam’s future.

On the sand between them, Cas’ hand covered his, squeezing tightly, and without looking, he knew Cas' fear mirrored his own. They were two soldiers wounded beyond recognition, unable to let their guard down for long enough to enjoy life. Not even in this paradise.

Screw it all to hell.

With considerable effort, he smiled, trying not to cringe at how fake it felt. “What did you do here with my clone? Drink cocktails, get massages? Party all night long?”

“We stood here,” Cas said in a flat voice, not taking his eyes off the storm. “I told him to smile. He smiled. A passerby took a photo of us.”

“Shit.” Dean’s smile fell as the nightmare that was Cas’ time in the empty finally sank in. “When you said he was a puppet, you meant it?”

“Yes.”

“Fucking hell.” Dean ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the ends. But the sting had not helped. The best course of action was to let it go, to change the subject, and focus on the here and now. Like always, he refused to listen to the voice of reason. “For how long? It’s been a year for us.”

Cas was a statue beside him, not really seeing the sea or the storm, but his hand squeezed Dean’s as if making sure he was still there. That he was real. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded as if it came from a great distance, and by the time it reached Dean, nothing of Cas was left in it. “I stopped counting at three.”

Dean sighed in relief. “Three years. That’s not so bad-”

“Three thousand.”

Over the horizon, a wave came rolling toward Dean, a great, towering beast made of guilt, rage, and betrayal. It was screaming and howling, and he could not move, nor run, no cry for help. It crashed into him and swept him away, filling his ears with a high-pitched sound that sucked all the colors from the world until only gray was left. He fought not to spill his guts out, dizziness making it hard to sit still. He might have whimpered... or maybe it was some other wounded beast dying alone in a cave behind them. Or perhaps it was all in his head, and he hadn’t moved a muscle, too stunned to process any of it.

Three thousand years.

In and out, he forced his lungs to work, even as his whole body screamed with the need to shut down.

Inhale. Lighting flashed across the sky.

Exhale as the thunder boomed in his chest, jumpstarting his heart.

In and out, Dean breathed when the only thing he wanted to do was scream. Scream until the heavens shook with his anger, and blood came pouring out of his throat. A part of him knew there was nothing he could have done differently. There was no path that he could've taken to rescue Cas sooner.

But logic didn’t help him feel less dirty. His sins clung to him like the black ooze of the empty, a reminder of all the decisions that had led him to this moment. An unbearable burden that was slowly dragging him down.

No!

He’d promised Sam he had it under control. The last time he'd let it pull him under, it took Sam weeks to get him back. He’d never seen Sam look so scared. Never again.

A promise was a promise was a promise was a promise...

He let go of Cas’ hand and stood up, his shaking legs barely holding him up.

“What are you doing?” Cas asked.

His shirt fell to the ground, his T-shirt landing right on top of it. “Going for a swim.” And maybe he’d feel clean again. He unbuckled his pants.

“A storm is coming.”

“There is always a storm coming.” In one swift move, he pulled his pants and underwear down. The sea called to him, and without looking back, he walked into it.  

Eyes closed, he jumped head first into the oncoming wave, letting it roll over him, scraping away the dirt, sweat, and sins, guilt, and anger, and surfaced on the other side clean. Laughing, he looked back, searching for Cas, needing him by his side, but the beach was empty.

“Cas?” he called when he noticed a dark shape under the surface hurling toward him at a speed impossible for a human. A shark, his mind screamed in warning, and he backpedaled, trying to put some distance between them. Once, twice, it circled him, and just before full panic set in, Cas surfaced in front of him.

“You are such an ass,” Dean splashed him with water, trying to steady his racing heartbeat.

“What?” Cas swiped the water out of his eyes, sounding all innocent-like. As if.

“Pervert. Did you have a good look?” He thought Cas would blush for ogling his naked ass. Or look away and pretend nothing had happened. Instead, he looked Dean dead in the eyes.

“Yes.” A single word carried so much hunger Dean had trouble swallowing around the lump in his throat. Why was he suddenly feeling like a prey? “And I really liked what I saw.”

A ray of sunshine broke through the clouds and hit the droplets in Cas’ thick curls in an explosion of colors. It was as if a crown adorned his head, glittering with hundreds of diamonds in shades of yellow, blue, and red. Looking all majestic and ethereal, Cas watched Dean like he wanted to devour him, and hell, if that didn’t make Dean’s blood boil.

It would have been so easy to let go and give Cas free rein. To surrender control and, for once, not be the one making all the decisions. The more he thought about it, the more tempting it sounded. In fact, it sounded like a bloody good vacation.

Shame it wasn’t in Dean’s nature.

As if he could read Dean’s mind, Cas' lips stretched into a smile, and the game was on.

Dean could never back down from a challenge.

“All right, hot shot, let’s see what you got.” Behind Cas, a wave rose toward them. “Follow my lead.” He turned and swam toward the shore.

With a few powerful strokes, Cas was beside him, grinning. “I always do.”

It was such a blatant lie that Dean was tempted to grab those curls and dunk Cas' head under the water, but there was no time. The water around them rose, and he stretched his right hand in front of him and let go.

Beside him, Cas let out a cry of pure joy, and Dean joined him, whooping as a wall of water propelled them forward at surprising speed. He glanced at Cas, his body stretched in a graceful line, glistening under the water, bodysurfing with surprising grace for someone who’d never done it before. His face was alight with joy, yet beneath it, there was such peace that Dean could not help but wonder if that was how he looked when he flew.

When their feet finally touched the sand in the shallows, they looked at each other and burst into laughter.

 “That was-” Cas swallowed, gazing at the sea, his eyes alight with awe. “Holy shit.”

And Dean just couldn’t help himself. “Hey Mikey, I think he likes it.” He quoted the line.

“Sorry to say this, Dean, but that,” He pointed at the sea, “That was a hundred times better than Matrix.”

“Blasphemy!” Dean slapped the water between them, spraying Cas’ face and making him sputter with laughter. “How about some more?”

“Hell yeah!” Cas exclaimed and dived under the wave, swimming to the open sea, the corded muscles flexing across his back. Graceful and quick, he was a siren whose call Dean could not resist.

Nor did he want to.

“Wait up!” Dean followed.

***  

There was water in Dean’s ears, sand up his ass, and his whole body shook from exaction, and he barely noticed any of it.

Nothing existed but Cas’ radiant smile that appeared every time his feet touched the ground. Or the sinful way his body cut through the water as if he were part fish. Or the hunger in his eyes that steadily grew with each glance at Dean while they surfed side by side. Or the way Dean’s breath caught when Cas got too close, brushing against him, all elegant and slick, too fast for Dean to catch him.

When the sun touched the horizon, thunder exploaded above them, and Dean jolted in surprise as if waking from a dream. Somehow, he’d entirely missed that the storm was almost on top of them.

“Cas, this is the last one. It’s getting pretty rough out here,” He yelled to be heard over the wind. Cas waved a hand in acknowledgment and swam to catch the surf, with Dean close behind him, eager to get his feet on dry land and sleep for a week.

Behind them, a huge wave barreled toward them, making the hair on Dean’s neck stand up in warning.

But it was too late.

It crashed over him, sucking him into the vortex so fast he barely had time to inhale. Round and round, his body spun until he had no idea which way was up. With enough force to jar his teeth, he slammed into the seabed. He tried to swim to the surface, but the current caught him, dragging him across the sand and sharp rocks that left behind deep cuts all along his left side.

He managed to grab onto a rock, but another wave slammed him against it, breaking his rib, and he screamed, expelling the precious little air he had left. Lungs burning, he held on as the fireworks exploded on the edges of his vision.

If he could, he would’ve laughed until tears came streamed down his face. Just like he thought, the first time he dared to relax and wham, drowned like an unwanted kitten. What a way to go.

Fucking Murphy's law, Dean cursed as his brain started to shut down.

Something slid around his waist and gripped him tight. Lips pressed against him, and air flowed into his starving lungs. The pain in his chest eased up, and his left side stopped burning.

Cas, his mind gasped as it slowly dragged itself from the edge of unconsciousness.

Finally, came the second thought, and he grabbed Cas' waist, ready to kiss the hell out of him, but something was wrong. Cas held him, his grip almost painful, but he was stiff as a board, every muscle under Dean’s hands quivering with tension.

Slowly coming to, Dean opened his eyes and fell into scorching blue eyes that mirrored the storm above them. Cas stared at him with so much anger Dean’s first instinct was to jerk away and escape.

It took a moment, his thoughts still too muddled, before it dawned on him why Cas was angry - Dean didn’t pray to him. Not when the wave hit him, nor when it swept him under, nor when his bones broke. Cas was angry for wasting precious time searching for him when all he had to do was call out to him. And fuck, if that didn’t spark a blinding rage in Dean.

Where was Cas for the past year? Where was he for the last three weeks? Where was he when Dean needed him most? Who the hell did he think he was, storming into Dean’s life whenever he fancied and feeling entitled to judge any of Dean’s decisions?

Oblivious to the storm brewing inside Dean, Cas looked up, ready to pull them to the surface, but Dean didn’t care about being rescued. He was sick of playing games. Sick of patiently waiting for answers that would never come. Sick of always having to dance to Cas’ tune.

Three thousand motherfucking years!

Dean let the chains around his anger snap, and the beast roared, hungry for destruction. He grabbed a fistful of Cas’ hair and savagely bit his lower lip. And when Cas tried to push him away, he held on like a shark.

A part of Dean’s mind recoiled in horror from the violence and savagery of what he was doing. This was not who he was. But the other Dean, the one who tried to be patient and gentle, who gave Cas space, received nothing but mind games in return.

No, more.

This Dean was a new kind of creature whose only purpose was to possess every atom of Cas and crush any thoughts he might harbor of ever leaving again.

Teeth sank into the soft flesh as Dean savagely branded Cas with a stamp of ownership he wished would remain on Cas’ body long after he was dust. An eternal reminder of one simple truth -  Cas belonged to Dean.

One second, two, three, and he let go.

Mouth open in shock, Cas stared at the thin rope of blood floating between them. In a daze, he lifted his hand and traced the deep cut with his thumb - a cut that was healing before Dean’s eyes.

Hating that his mark was already fading, Dean leaned and licked across it and Cas’ finger, the beast inside him purring when the metallic taste exploded in his mouth. In waning light, he watched an array of emotions pass across Cas’ face until only one remained, and his pupils dilated impossibly wide, leaving only a faint trace of blue. 

A hand around Dean trembled as Cas, his eyes alight with hunger and trepidation, leaned in and kissed him. And when Dean demanded entrance, Cas opened up.

At the first tentative touch of Cas’ tongue against his own, Dean plundered Cas’ mouth with the single-minded focus of a man who was denied for far too long. He grabbed Cas’ ass, his nails sinking into flesh, and when he felt hardness press against his own, the beast inside him howled in victory.

 A deep vibration hit his chest, and he smiled when he realized it was coming from Cas, who wound his legs around Dean, holding him tight as if afraid Dean would disappear.

Stupid angel, as if that would ever happen now that Dean had a taste of him - thunder, and lighting, and honey, and sea salt had imprinted on Dean, the combination making his head spin.

Cas’ breath became Dean’s as the precious oxygen flowed between them. In and out, Cas gave and took until their breathing synchronized, their hearts beating as one, and Dean could no longer tell where he ended and Cas began.

The night had fallen, and Dean could only see Cas’ face when lightning flashed across the sky above them. With his hair floating around his face, cheeks pink, and eyes glazed over, Cas looked like he'd walked out of a Renaissance painting—ethereal and innocent.

And all Dean wanted was to sink inside him and corrupt the fuck out of him. Make him beg and scream Dean’s name over and over like a prayer. He wanted to consume Cas, and cherish him, and defile his innocence, and protect it. Back and forth, his thought ping-ponged as he sneaked one hand between them and tweaked Cas' nipple, making him rut against Dean with broken moans that tickled his lips.

But it wasn’t enough. Every time Dean got close to coming, a piece of debris slammed into his unprotected back, or sand sneaked in between them, rubbing him raw. No matter how much he tried to ignore it all and get lost in Cas, it was a losing battle.

Dean tried to pull away and signal Cas that it was time to head back to dry land, but Cas only held him tighter. He nibbled and licked into Dean’s mouth as if trying to make a permanent home inside of him, and Dean wanted nothing more than to roll out a welcome mat.

Fuck. Who knew that, for once, he would have to be the responsible one?

Resenting the hell of what he was about to do, he grabbed Cas’ hair and pulled him away, patiently waiting for him to come out of the haze of lust. A lighting flashed above them, illuminating the sea, and a groan ripped out of Dean at the pleading look on Cas’ face.

He’d always thought Cas was beautiful, especially when they fought side by side, his eyes alight with the ferocious need to crush the enemy. But now, he was almost too beautiful to look at. He could’ve easily broken Dean’s hold and taken what he wanted. Instead, he floated, pliant in Dean’s hands, waiting.

Dean had to bite his cheek not to lean in and consume him. Instead, he shook his head and pointed to the surface. The next thing he knew, a torrent of rain slammed into his face, and he almost buckled under a strong gust of wind, Cas' grip on his arm the only thing keeping him standing.

“Well, that sure killed the mood. Why aren’t we back at the motel?” Dean shouted to be heard over the storm.  

“Because I don’t want you to catch leprosy.” Cas picked up his coat and draped it around Dean’s shoulders. “Common, I know a place.” Naked and majestic like some god of old, he walked into the forest.

“What about our stuff?” Dean yelled after him, but there was no answer. “Fuck it.” He grabbed the bag, the only thing he could find with the rest of his clothes blown away by the storm, and ran into the jungle.

 “Cas,” he called, but there was only darkness. Hands embraced him from behind, and he swallowed a scream. “Jesus fucking Christ!”

“Only me,” the bastard chuckled in his ear.

 “I swear, man, first chance I get, I’m putting a big ass bell around your neck.”

“If it’s a gift from you, I’d wear it with pride.” Cas kissed his neck and cheek, and when Dean turned his face, he licked up his jaw and into his mouth. Dean tried to turn around, but Cas tightened his hold. “We need to get you out of the storm.” With one last peck on his lips, he took Dean’s hand. “Follow me.”

 Taking a stroll through a jungle buck naked while the storm raged around them was a recipe for disaster. Yet, with Cas’ warm hand in his, he felt safe.

A light flickered ahead of them. “Watch your step here.” Cas pointed at the narrow boardwalk that suddenly appeared.

“Where are we?” Dean gazed left and right at the small lights illuminating the road. 

“My dream,” Cas laughed and tugged Dean’s hand. “We’re almost there.”

It was warm, well above 80 degrees, but with the constant wind and the rain, Dean started shivering, the soaked coat doing nothing to keep him warm. Head bent against the rain, he blindly followed Cas, and when he suddenly stopped, he almost ran straight into him. He peered over Cas's shoulder at the doors that appeared out of nowhere. “Are we breaking and entering?”

 “No need, it’s unlocked.” Cas turned the doorknob, ushered Dean inside, and then there was silence.

Lightning flashed, illuminating the space for a second. On Dean’s left, there were long glass doors and a sofa in front of them. To his right lay nothing but darkness and shadows.  

The hair at the back of Dean’s neck prickled. “You gonna stand there all night and stare at me?” He turned around, trying to see Cas, but the small corridor was pitch black.

“You look good in my coat.” Came a whisper.

“Yeah, I’m really pulling off that sexy drowned cat look.” Dean blushed and went to take it off.

“Let me.” Cas slipped his hands under the coat, dragging them over Dean’s chest and tracing his collarbone, leaving a trail of fire on his chilled skin. So lost was Dean in the sensation that he almost missed the sound of heavy breathing that filled the corridor.

“Are you all right?” He squinted, trying to see Cas’ face. “We can stop. There is no pressure. We can-”

“Shut up, Dean.” Cas’s breath tickled Dean’s lips as he slowly peeled the coat off, letting it slide from Dean’s shoulders and fall around his feet.

Dean could practically feel Cas’ eyes tracing across his body, and he fought not to fidget, suddenly feeling vulnerable. “You like what you see?” He tried to sound cocky but failed miserably when his voice quivered, betraying how nervous he was.  

“Meh, I’ve seen better,” Cas’ said dryly.

Dean’s head tilted back in laughter. “Get over here, you cheeky bastard.” 

The kiss was gentle and slow, Dean wanting to savor every moment, but Cas had other plans. He fell into Dean’s arms and slammed him against the wall. In seconds, Dean was gasping for breath, dizzy with need, and painfully hard. Who knew Cas would be such a good kisser? Every swipe of his tongue made Dean’s knees tremble.

“Cas… we’ve done walls…shelves…and the sea,” he gasped, unable to form a coherent thought between the hand that was delicately massaging the back of his head and the other kneading his ass. “..bed… where…..now.”

Walking backward, Cas pulled him deeper into the house, never breaking the kiss. In a breathless daze, Dean followed, and when Cas suddenly fell backward, Dean landed on top of him with a surprised huff. Cas scooted up the bed, and Dean crawled after him.

Lighting flashed and Dean swallowed thickly when he saw Cas’ face. There was a hunger there, a palpable force burning with a ferocity that took his breath away. And so much vulnerability. It almost looked like fear.

 “What’s wrong?” Dean whispered, afraid to speak too loud lest he bolted.  

Cas seemed frozen, and for a second, Dean thought he wouldn’t answer. Then, a shiver passed through his body. “Is this a dream?” And Dean’s heart broke in half.

“Would a dream do this?” Dean reached between them and grabbed Cas' cock, smiling when Cas buckled so hard he almost threw him off the bed. 

“Maybe,” The sound of a broken moan filled the room.

“How about this?” He jerked him slowly, nipping Cas’ jaw when he threw his head back, gripping the pillow for dear life.

“Not sure,” Cas breathlessly chuckled.

“Really? Well then, I better step up my game.” Dean tried to scowl, barely holding in the laugh. “I’ll lose my street creed if it comes out I got outperformed by a battery-operated dummy.”

“Grace,” Cas’ groaned the word when Dean spat in his hand and grabbed them both in a tight grip.

“Huh?” Dean hummed, busy watching the way Cas’ was biting his lower lip as he unsuccessfully tried to be quiet. Even though Dean’s balls ached from what felt like hours of edging, and the slide of Cas’ cock against his felt like he’d died and gone to heaven, his own pleasure didn’t matter. At that moment, his only purpose on earth was to give Cas what he’d dreamed of for thousands of years. To see Cas shatter into a million pieces under him.

“He was a grace-operated dummy. He could also go for- ah - days without sleep, and he nev- never complained.” Cas panted fucking Dean’s hand, the slide of his cock against Dean’ making it hard to think.

“What was there to complain about?” Dean murmured against Cas’ parted mouth, "He had perfect children, perfect house..." Instead of a kiss, he dragged the tip of his tongue against the seam of Cas’ lips. "Perfect husband... Well, except those ugly ass walls.”

“You got something against Color 78, The Flying Salmon- Dean!” Cas grabbed Dean’s hair with both hands, whimpering into his shoulder when Dean flicked his thumb over his tip, smearing precum.

A laugh escaped Dean. “More like Baby diarrhea number 2. We are so changing it.” Dean leaned for a kiss, but Cas froze underneath him, his eyes boring into Dean’s, into his very soul.

 “We are?” Cas breathed, his eyes so full of brittle hope that there was only one answer Dean could give.

Ignoring Cas' whine of protest, Dean let go of them and braced his hands on either side of Cas’ head. “We are getting a two-story house. And I want one of those reclining chairs.” He slowly rocked his hips, dragging the length of his cock against Cas’.

Cas threw his legs around Dean’s hips, arching against him. His moan was loud. “A library.” But the words were still too quiet for Dean’s liking.

“A big garage for Baby.” He traced the vein on Cas' neck with his teeth, groaning when Cas tilted his head. A perfect submission.

“Oh- I want- I want a fireplace,” Cas said with such confidence Dean had to bite his lip not to come.  

“And a hot tub in the backyard.” Dean nipped his ear.

 “Surrounded by trees and a garden. Oh, Dean, I’m- I’m-”

“That’s it, baby,” Dean said, drunk on broken moans and little shudders that wrecked Cas’ body. “A kitchen and a bathroom…” he listed random rooms in a house, his brain overloaded with pleasure.

“Yes! Harder!” Cas grabbed Dean’s ass with both hands fucking against him wild and free, and Dean’s heart sang with happiness. This was the real Cas. Not the one hiding behind a wrinkled suit, always reserved, always in control.

“Our own wall of photos.” Dean could see it all, a wall covered from floor to ceiling with captured moments. A road map to their struggles, their life, their love. “You and me.” He slammed their mouths together.

“Yes,” Cas cried, arching against Dean. Mesmerized, Dean looked down as ropes of come hit his stomach, the feeling so new and strange and everything he never knew he needed, and he lost it. He slammed his hips against Cas’ as waves of pleasure rolled over him, making him blind to anything but Cas’ blue eyes that glowed with love.  

There were so many things that he wished he could say – I will kill you if you leave me; I love you; please do not leave… I am yours. But when he opened his mouth, all that came out was “Cas,” A silent prayer escaped him, and he exploded so hard his cum hit Cas’ chin.

His hands gave out, and he fell on Cas, gasping for breath like he’d run a marathon. With Cas’ legs still holding him tight and gentle hands running through his hair, it was the safest he’d ever felt.

“I should…” There was something important he needed to do or say, but every time he reached for it slipped further away.

“Shhh, go to sleep.” A faint kiss on his forehead.  

“I need to…”

“I’ll be here. I promise.”

There it was. That’s all he needed to hear. “Ok…” he mumbled and fell asleep.

Chapter Text

The air felt strange.

As Dean’s mind slowly woke up, he realized it wasn’t a bad kind of strange. Just different. The ever-present stench of car fumes was gone, as was the smell of a stale motel room that always left an aftertaste of mold in Dean's mouth.

Instead, the air smelled clean.

He opened his eyes with a groan, a deep-seated sound that felt like it came from the very marrow of his bones. A ceiling fan turned lazily above him, the breeze like a soft caress on his naked body.

Rubbing out the sleep from his eyes, he slowly became aware of the weight across his chest. Heart bursting with happiness, he carefully lifted the cover and smiled at Cas, who was softly snoring, his face buried in Dean’s armpit.

A snoring angel, his hand tightly wrapped around Dean’s waist - it was the cutest thing Dean had ever seen. He wanted to stay there memorizing every line of Cas’ face, but there was no ignoring the pressure in his bladder. Careful not to wake him, he slipped out of Cas’ hold and went looking for the bathroom.

“Holy shit,” Dean’s jaw dropped as he slowly took in the massive jacuzzi sat before a wall-to-ceiling window. With the breathtaking sea view behind it, the whole thing looked like a postcard.

“Not bad, Cas,” he murmured, loving the warm interior with its perfect blend of wood and bamboo.

He quickly pissed, washed his hands, and stepped into the shower that had more controls than a space shuttle. Randomly, he turned one of the nobs.

“Motherfucker!” He grabbed the wall, trying not to slip and break his neck, as water hit him from all sides.

Once he found the angle at which the shower didn’t try to kill him, it was like a whole new world opened up to him. The jets pounded his body, massaging his muscles with enough force to eliminate aches and pains from two decades ago.

An hour later, he switched off the water and stepped into the fogged-up bathroom. 

“It’s good to be a king.” Dean sighed as he slipped into the softest white robe known to man.

He wiped the fogged-up mirror with a sleeve and stared in confusion at the face looking back at him. He almost didn’t recognize himself. The smile that looked like it was permanently affixed to the corner of his mouth was definitely new.

But it was the glimmer in his eye that made him pause.

It’s been a while since he’d seen that. Or felt it. That spark that always made him giddy with excitement for the next big adventure. Good or bad, no matter what life threw at him, it always helped him bounce back, ready for more. For so long, he’d thought he’d lost it, and here he was, smiling as a fool at his own reflection.

All because of Cas.

Shaking his head in wonder, he went in search of coffee.    

***

The rest of the house had the same blend of rustic charm and modern design, creating an open and inviting space. The only thing that ruined it was their clothes strewn across every available surface, left to dry.

With the way the wind was blowing last night, it must have taken Cas hours to find them all. For some reason, that made Dean’s insides all mushy and warm.

Smiling from ear to ear, he walked into the kitchen, but his smile quickly turned into a frown when he saw the contraption sitting on the counter. The damn coffee maker had more buttons than the shower.

“Fuck sake, I just want some coffee, not launch a nuclear arsenal.” After several minutes of cursing and randomly punching buttons, he sighed in relief when he found an instruction manual neatly folded behind it. “You’re my bitch now.”

With a steaming cup in hand, he went exploring.

It wasn’t a big house. A living room with an open kitchen, a small bedroom, and a bathroom, and the view to die for from every room in the house. It was a type of place that he’d only seen in one of those magazines that advertised dream escapes for rich assholes. And now he was one of those assholes.

Life sure was interesting when Cas let himself loose.

Outside the glass doors, a small pool sat nestled among the trees and flowers. With the chairs next to it and the view of the sea, it was the perfect spot for morning coffee. Alas, something more beautiful than this paradise was waiting for him inside.

On his way in, a flower caught his eye, and without giving it much thought, he plucked it.

Cas was in the same position he left him. Leaning against the doorframe, Dean sipped the coffee and slowly took in the vast expanse of creamy white skin bathed in the morning light. A bedsheet wound around Cas’ legs, leaving most of his back and ass uncovered. 

More than three thousand years…Dean’s brain still refused to believe it. Alone in the darkness with nothing but an empty sock puppet as his companion. The strength of will needed to keep going, day after day, boggled Dean’s mind. If he’d been in Cas' shoes, he wasn’t sure he would’ve had the will to endure.

Yet here Cas was.

A bit broken. A bit sad. Shrouded in more secrets than Dean could fathom and still capable of smiling. Whatever he was dreaming about had his lips curved into a soft smile.

Dean’s eyes traveled across Cas’ face, down his neck, and froze at the sight of two small scratches on Cas’ shoulder blade. Blood rushed to Dean’s ears, leaving only the thunderous sound of his racing heartbeat.

Those did not come from the sea nor from their midnight stroll through the jungle. No, Dean made those. He could still taste the intoxicating combination of the salt of the sea and the sweetness of Cas’ lips that had him clawing Cas’ back in a frenzy.

Cas had given him everything, even the air to breathe, and still, it wasn’t enough for Dean. He’d marked Cas like some kind of a wild animal. For fuck sake, he’d even bitten him.

And Cas didn’t heal it.

Careful not to make a sound, he put the cup on the nightstand and sat on the bed. With the feather-light touch, he traced the scratches with the flower.

He should apologize.

The thought that this, too, would fade away filled him with fear, as though Cas, too, might vanish the moment Dean looked away.

He should make some more.

The phone on the nightstand caught his eye, and a crazy idea popped into his head. Fuck it, he thought, it’s as good a time as any to start working on that promise.

The screen lit up, and Dean’s jaw hit the floor. His whole body shook as he bit his fist, trying to stifle the laughter and not wake up Cas.

The almighty warrior of god had put a selfie on Dean’s locked screen – Cas locked in a tug of war with a monkey who had a tight grip on Dean’s pants. Dean could almost hear Cas’ laughter as he tugged on the jeans, determined not to lose.  

It was the funniest and the most adorable thing Cas had ever done.

Since the museum, Dean had been acting on pure instinct. Unlike the coffee machine, there was no instruction manual on how to deal with the angel that had his mind cracked in half. It was like walking on a tightrope above a boiling volcano – always fearful that the next thing he said or did would be what set Cas off.

To see him laugh and feel safe enough to play around with a monkey, of all things - Dean must have done something right because he could’ve sworn Cas looked younger in the photo.

A huge weight lifted off Dean’s shoulders.

With his right arm stretched out before him, still reaching out for Dean, the white sheet wrapped around his waist, Cas looked like one of those statues of old. The Greek or Roman ones that you looked at and thought couldn't possibly be real because there was no way anyone that beautiful ever walked the earth.

This moment right here would be the perfect first photo for their wall. Careful not to wake him, Dean placed the flower on Cas’ shoulder, right next to the scratch. He stepped away and took a photo that most definitely would never be part of their wall. Or maybe he could hang it in their bedroom. A large framed-

“What are you doing?” Half asleep, Cas’ voice had that extra gravel that wrapped around Dean’s dick like velvet.

“Gotta start that wall somewhere.” Dean’s eyes kept returning to the area just above Cas’ right thigh, that sweet spot where his leg met his ass that looked so juicy and inviting. He snapped several photos of it from different angles. Not for the wall, of course. These would go straight to Dean’s private collection.

Cas chuckled and closed his eyes. “I’m not sure it would be appropriate to hang my naked ass above the mantle. What would the guests think.”

“Fuck 'em. Our house. Our rules.”

“Hm… I like that.”

“Besides, it’ll look good next to the monkey.”

“That creature was vicious.” Cas snorted. It was such a Dean-like sound that Dean had to take a minute to compose himself and not melt into a puddle. 

“Yes, he looked real demonic.” Laughing, Dean tossed the phone on the bed and picked up the flower. Round and round, he trailed it around the scratches, marveling at how its purple color perfectly matched his mark.

Cas inhaled, and a smile bloomed across his face. “Ah, the lovely Cosmos Bipinnatus.”

“Huh?”

“The flower. Cosmos is a well-regarded flower in Thailand. Symbolizes harmony, peace, and order.”

“Thailand?” Dean looked at the breathtaking view outside the window. He’d thought they were somewhere in Hawaii, not on the other side of the earth.

A whole strange new world just waiting to be explored. 

It didn’t hold a candle to what was in this room. So many corners of Cas’ body that Dean had yet to explore.

Like the gentle slope of his shoulder, that adorably quivered when Dean trailed the flower across it. Or the fine hairs on Cas’ neck that slowly rose, teased by the soft petals. Cas sighed softly as Dean brushed down his spine, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

When he reached Cas’ waist, Cas leaned into the touch, stretching like a cat starved for affection. Dean’s eyes zeroed in on two dimples on Cas’ lower back, and his mouth watered at the thought of tasting them. Would they taste like the rest of Cas or better?

Dean’s hand froze as the realization hit him that all of this was beyond strange.

This was not normal for Cas. The angel that couldn’t feel pain or taste food was now losing his mind from being touched by a bloody flower. And not five minutes ago, he was snoring.

What if Cas was losing more than his mind? Was his grace in danger? He needed to know the answer, but there was no chance in hell that he would ask Cas and risk another episode.

Unless…

Unless he kept winging it, trusting his instincts to guide him. So far, they hadn’t let him down.

“Why did you stop?” Cas tried to turn, but Dean stopped him with a hand between his shoulder blades.   

“Let’s play a little game.”

“You don’t do games.” Cas frowned in suspicion. “What’s going on?”

“I love games.” Dean grinned, his insides bubbling in anticipation.

“You love to hustle. There is a difference.”

“I do love to win. But there are no winners in this little game. It's simple. I ask a question, and you answer.”

“Why do I feel like I’m about to be played?” Cas glared at him with one open eye in suspicion.

“Because you have trust issues.” Dean snorted. “Common, it’s going to be fun. For every answer I get, you receive a reward.” Dean slowly dragged the flower along the back of Cas’ neck, grinning in triumph when Cas shivered beneath his touch.

“Fine." Cas huffed in annoyance. "Just...  Keep on doing that.” 

“That’s the spirit. Let’s see… You were sleeping just now, how?”

“A little trick I learned in the empty. Now get back to it.”

“Cas.” Dean sighed in frustration.

Cas rolled his eyes. “Always so bossy.”

“And you love it.” Dean kissed between Cas’­ shoulder blades.

“True.” Cas exhaled and let his head fall back on the pillow. “I had a lot of time on my hands. So, to avoid going insane, I started experimenting. I-”

“You played with yourself!” Dean laughed. “Now, don’t glare at me like that. It’s all perfectly natural. All that time alone, you got to fill in the time.”

With a groan, Cas buried his head into the pillow. “Is it too late to throw you back into hell?”

“You’d miss me too much.”

“You are right. It would be too much work to open the hell gates.” Cas swallowed slowly and closed his eyes as if not seeing Dean would help him continue. “After a few hundred years, I figured out how to… tighten the hold on my grace.”

“What does that mean?” Dean traced a finger down Cas' spine, loving the way Cas arched his back, always hungry for Dean's touch. It was intoxicating to be wanted by someone so much that even the smallest touch made their whole body quiver. Dean was a goner.

“When I pull in my grace, not letting it… leak into the body. I can taste the food. Feel the pain.”

 Funny how he chose to say pain, Dean thought, but it didn’t come as a surprise. After a millennium spent in the dark, there were not many opportunities for Cas to experience anything but pain.

Time to fix that.   

“You feel this?” Dean licked the dimple on Cas’ back, humming in pleasure when the taste of Cas exploded on his tongue. With a surprised gasp, Cas buckled underneath him so hard he had to grab his waist with both hands to keep him still. Slow, like he had all the time in the world, Dean blew on Cas' skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps across his back all the way to his neck.

“More!” Cas cried desperately, clutching the pillow with both hands.

“So impatient.” If Dean had been a better man, he would have taken the answers he got and let Cas’ demons lie. Unfortunately, he’d always been an asshole. “What did you wear?”

“W- what?” Breathless, Cas craned his head back to look at Dean but quickly gave up and let his head fall back on the pillow.

“Look at you,” Dean whispered in wonder. Face flushed, eyes heavy with lust, Cas was a beautiful mess, and it was all Dean’s doing. God, he wanted to sink into Cas and wreck him until there was nothing left but Dean’s name on his lips. “So beautiful.”

Dean grabbed his cock and squeezed until the pain made him wince. Only when the need to come ebbed away did he dare to breathe again.

He licked his dry lips and tried to get his mind back on track. “In your dream, what did you wear? And don’t even try to lie because there is no way you stayed in that coat for over three millennia.”

“Who cares what I wore? Get back to-”

“That’s not how the game works.” Dean reached down and palmed Cas' asscheek, marveling how well it fit his hand. “Answer, or I stop.”

“Pants, t-shirts, jackets, socks! You satisfied?”

Lightly Dean squeezed, smiling when Cas pushed back, always looking for more. “What kind of pants and t-shirts and jackets and socks?” 

“I don’t remember,” Cas mumbled into the pillow.

“Well, that was a short game. You want some coffee?” Dean made to stand up when Cas grabbed his hand.

“You want all the sordid details? Fine." He growled, not looking at Dean. “Yours. Whatever I could recreate from memory. They fit like shit, but I didn’t care. Anything to feel you close- And whenever I got to the edge, wishing to burn it all to the ground, I- I’d make something new and- and- I’d burry my face into a t-shirt, trying to remember how you smelled. But the longer I- I could not remember. I couldn’t- I can’t-  

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck," Dean panicked as Cas started slipping. Running on instinct, he leaned over and bit Cas’ ass hard.  

“Dean!” The room rang with his name, and Dean’s heart skipped the beat.

Cas, his mouth half open in shock, stared at Dean as if he was a mystery he could not decipher. “How- How did you do that?”

“Do what?” Dean feigned innocence as the beast inside him purred at the indentation his teeth left on Cas’ ass. Unable to stop himself, Dean leaned over and gently kissed the red spot. “This?”

“Yessss- That feels- No, wait! You stopped it. How did you…?”

For a second, Dean thought about admitting that he had no idea what the fuck he was doing. That he was flying by the seat of his pants, hoping he didn’t end up wrecking what was left of Cas' sanity. But he kept his mouth shut.

Standing on the edge as Cas was now, the truth was the last thing he needed to hear. What he needed was to feel safe. To know that if he slipped and fell, Dean would be there to catch him. And if the right combination of tenderness and pain did it for Cas, who was Dean to judge him for it. It wasn’t like Dean didn’t enjoy it.

“Should I stop?” Dean asked while trailing kisses around the growing bruise.

“No…­­­­­” Cas whispered, his face an adorable shade of red. “I- I like it.”

Shy and wrecked with lust, Cas' face was a thing of beauty. “You keep on making those sounds, and I might never stop.” Dean took the meaty flesh between his teeth and sucked on it, chuckling when Cas groaned, pushing his ass back for more.

For every bite he made, Dean spent eternity licking and kissing a trail around it until the room filled with Cas gasps and orders of more, harder, and occasional curses when Dean’s tongue strayed too close to his crease. But he never touched it, always making sure to go around it, until Cas wriggled underneath him like a man possessed.

Right when he got him to the edge, Dean pulled away. “One last question.”

“Fuck!” Cas hurled the pillow into the wall. “No more games! I’m done!”

Dean gently bit Cas’ ear, making him gasp. “Play the game, Cas.” He licked two fingers, making sure they were good and wet, and slowly slid them between Cas’ asscheeks.

“Oh-” Cas choked, gripping the sheets tightly, knuckles white with tension. “What- What are you doing?”

“Play the game, and I’ll make you fly.”

“Yessssss. Fly.” Cas panted with need. But every time he pushed his ass back, trying to get Dean to touch his hole, Dean pulled away. The string of curses that came out of Cas’ mouth would have made a demon blush.

On any other day, Dean would've taken his time to enjoy this side of Cas. This wild creature that had his legs spread, his whole body begging for Dean’s touch.

But there was no time for that.

If Dean were still capable of praying, he would have sent a silent plea to whichever god was listening that his plan worked. If he failed, Cas would probably be lost to him forever.  

Swallowing down the fear, Dean asked. “Why did you run from me?

“No! I can’t! I can’t, I can’t…” The change was instant. As the chant began, Cas’ eyes snapped open, staring off into space, blind with terror.

Forgive me, Dean thought and thrust two fingers inside Cas, not caring to be gentle. Cas threw his head back and let out a wail filled with agony and relief.

“Why Cas?” Without mercy, he slowly fucked Cas making sure not to touch his prostate.  

“Can’t…” Cas stuttered, beads of sweat breaking out across his back as he fought for control.

“You said you can feel everything. I can do this.” Dean scraped his nails over the dozen bitemarks on Cas’ ass. “All day long.”

“Damn you!” Spit flew out of Cas' mouth, his eyes thunderous, but his ass betrayed him. There was no hiding the way his hole throbbed around Dean’s fingers, hungrily trying to suck him in.

“Answer, and I’ll give you what you need. I’ll make it so good for you, Cas.”

 A tear slid down Cas' cheek as he fucked himself on Dean’s fingers with abandon. “Be- Because- you…”

Almost there. “Common baby, you can do it.” Dean bit his ear and hit his prostate.

“Because you saw me!” With a broken wail, Cas came, his hole painfully gripping Dean’s fingers.

In shock, Dean slowly pulled out. He'd finally gotten the answer, and it wasn't what he'd expected.

Because he saw Cas? What the hell did that even mean?

Saw him how? Was he embarrassed by the hallmark dream he’d built?

No, none of that. What was that bullshit Cas was saying back at the museum?  That he’d raped Dean. He’d looked Dean straight in the eyes and lied.

What was fuck was he hiding?

And it finally hit Dean. Cas had never kissed the other Dean, and out of nowhere, Dean appeared, and Cas jumped him.

Dean remembered how shocked he was. How he’d never touched another man, but he could not push Cas away. Nor did he want to. Cas was taking what he wanted and needed from Dean, and Dean was all there for it. And when it was over, Cas ran because he’d thought Dean would be disgusted by him.

There it was.

The truth.

And it was the most ridiculous reason Dean had ever heard. He wanted to rage. He wanted to unleash his anger on Cas. To scream and curse him for hurting him for something so trivial.

But when Cas curled up on himself, trembling from orgasm and shame, Dean’s rage evaporated. “Oh, Cas.”

“Don’t- just leave- leave me alone.”

There was no chance in hell Dean was gonna get up and leave. Instead, he removed his robe, grabbed Cas’ shoulder, and rolled him onto his back. Face hidden behind his hands, Cas silently wept.

“I was- No, I’m still angry that you left.” At his words, Cas trembled so hard Dean was afraid he’d shatter into pieces. Dean swung his leg over and straddled him, pressing all his weight firmly onto Cas’ waist.

“For weeks, I wracked my brain trying to figure out what I’ve done to make you run. But at night…” Dean paused, pretending to think. “Actually, no. Forget I said anything.” One blue eye peaked at him through fingers, and Dean bit the inside of his cheek not to smile in victory. Got you now. “How about a shower? That bathroom is fit for a king.” He moved to get off Cas when hands grabbed his thighs, keeping him put.

“What happened?” Cas whispered.

“Hm?” Dean played dumb.

“At night. What happened?”

“Really, Cas, we don’t have to talk about that. Let’s just go have a nice ba-”

“What I’ve done is inexcusable. I deserve all your anger. Tell me. No matter how much it will hurt, I deserve it. No more secrets between us.” There was so much self-hate in Cas' eyes Dean had to fight it not to lean down and hug the fuck out of him. But deep down, he knew it was the last thing Cas needed. Tenderness did shit all against self-hate.

Good thing Dean had years of experience with that particular emotion.

“At night… Dreams. So many dreams. Fuck Cas, this is not-” 

“Please, Dean.”

“Fine. But remember, you asked for it.” The hands on Dean’s thighs tightened, fingers digging into his skin. "I would dream of our honeymoon."

“I lied. The wedding. It never happened. I should never have said those things.” Words spilled out of Cas' mouth fast, his face burning with embarrassment.

Dean continued on, ignoring him. “I never dreamed about the wedding, even though you said we had a lot of fun. Only the honeymoon. Every night. We’d laugh until our bellies hurt. We swam in the ocean. We danced. Image after image. It was all jumbled up. Then I would wake up and…”

“And?” Cas whispered, eyes wide, hanging on every word like a lifeline.

“My eyes would be wide open, and all I could see was you leaning against that bedroom door. All flushed, lip swollen from how much you were biting it. Your eyes impossibly blue as you groaned and came all over my stomach. It was as if a veil had fallen, and I finally saw the real you. And you were so fucking magnificent. Just like now.” Cas inhaled sharply in surprise but remained so still Dean was sure he wasn’t breathing.

“I’d wrap a hand around my dick, just like this.” Dean reached down slowly and squeezed himself lightly. “Imagining it was your hand around me, doing that little twist at the top you did back in the empty.” The unblinking intensity of Cas' gaze on his cock had Dean panting like he’d run a marathon. Fuck he’d only touched himself, and he was ready to pop.

“I’d slide my other hand and cup my balls like this, wondering what would your mouth feel there. Would you be shy? Tease me with your tongue? Or would you just take what you wanted? Just like you did in that bedroom.” Cas' hips jerked upward, his eyes never straying from Dean’s hands.  

“I’d stroke myself slowly, imagining how it would feel like to slide inside you. To have you surround me until I had no idea where I ended, and you began.”

“Dean,” Cas breathed his name, his mouth half open in surprise.   

“I’d ache to come, but I’d prolong it for hours, wondering what else you dreamed of. What other fantasies lie in that pretty head of yours, just waiting for me to make them come true? And I would. Every single one of them.” Fuck, just thinking about Cas' fantasy of Dean tying him down and having his way with him was enough to make Dean’s balls want to explode.

But he clenched his teeth, refusing to come.  

Cas shook his head in denial, his voice barely a whisper. “You don’t know what you are asking. This… thing inside me… It frightens me, Dean.”

“Don’t you understand, Cas? There is no going back now. Your dreams are mine. Your desires are mine. Even your tears are mine. I will carry them all.” Cas choked on a sob as Dean wiped tears off his face. “The only question is, Do you trust me?”

Fear, shame, uncertainty, hope, a myriad of emotions passed across Cas’ face as he stared right into Dean’s soul, trying to decide.

Dean held his breath and waited.

A hand on Dean’s tight trembled.

“Yes.” Blue eyes closed.

 “Open your eyes, Cas.” But the bastard wouldn’t listen, stubbornly shaking his head, his eyes squeezed shut. That was ok. He would learn soon. Dean wrapped his fingers around Cas’ neck, smiling when his eyes popped open in surprise. “There's no place left in this universe where you can hide from me.”

Dean lightly squeezed, and Cas' mouth opened in a silent moan, his pupils dilating. The hard length of Cas’ cock stabbed Dean’s ass, and he shifted to make space for it between his thighs. Experimentally, he rocked his hips and groaned when it hit his balls, lighting his nerve endings like Christmas lights.

“Give them to me, Cas,” Dean ordered and wrapped the hand dripping with precum and tears around his cock, stroking it with a feather-light touch. Sweat dripped from his forehead, but he would not come. Not without hearing the words.

A tremor ran through Cas' entire body. With a long exhale, he let go of Dean’s thighs and spread his arms wide on the bed in surrender. “Yours.”

The word floated between them, more tangible and real than the world around them, as Cas gazed at him through his eyelashes, open and vulnerable.

Unable to speak for fear of choking on all the emotions, Dean leaned and claimed Cas' mouth.

It was not a tender kiss.

It was a promise, a vow they’d never be apart again. And Cas took it all, trembling underneath him.

“My beautiful, brave, magnificent angel,” Dean whispered against Cas’ lips and rocked his hips hard, riding Cas' cock with abandon.

Not soon had the words passed his lips, and Cas’ eyes rolled back as he moaned Dean’s name. Dean ground down on the hard cock between his legs, his own orgasm begging to be released, and watched Cas fall apart under him.

Hot cum bathed the back of Dean’s balls, and he lost it. He tried to keep his eyes open, to keep looking at Cas, but the orgasm hit him like a tidal wave, crashing through him.

“Cas!” tore from his lips as his breath shattered and he came all over Cas’ chest.

Half blind and deaf, his mind blown to pieces, he tried to get off Cas, but strong arms came around him, and once again, he ended up lying on top of him. Gasping for breath, still high from what was the best orgasm of his life, he closed his eyes and lost himself in the sound of Cas’ racing heartbeat.

Cas’ breath tickled his hair, and warm lips pressed against his forehead.

“We good?” Cas’ voice wavered, still afraid. Still uncertain.

With little energy Dean had left, he moved his head enough to look into Cas’ eyes. “Perfect.”

A little hum and a slow smile. “So are you,” Cas murmured against Dean’s hair.

Dean let his head fall back on Cas’ chest. “Not so sure about that.” The steady rhythm of Cas’ heartbeat gradually slowed, lulling him to sleep. “I think I might fall asleep on you again.”

“Your body and mind are exhausted. Rest.”

Fingers ran through Dean’s hair, gentle and loving. “Yeah, I’ll just rest my eyes for a minute.”

“Sleep.” Was the last thing Dean heard.

Chapter Text

All around him, black ooze dripped from the walls and ceiling.

There was something or somebody he’d forgotten about.

Somebody important.

But every time he reached for the memory, it slipped away, leaving behind a hole.

He called out, but nobody answered.

Nobody ever answers.

The floor underneath Dean’s feet opened up, and he was falling. Down, down, down. He didn’t even try to grab onto the walls.

Why bother?

There was nothing left to fight for -

Something smacked Dean in the face, and he jerked awake, reaching for the gun, but the space underneath his pillow was empty. Ready for a fight, he scanned the room for danger, but there was only Cas standing in the doorway, a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Did you just throw pants in my face?” Dean asked, holding the offending piece of clothing in confusion, his racing heart trying to explode right out of his chest.

“Get up,” Cas said with a smirk that Dean really wanted to punch off his face. He opened his mouth to tell him to go to hell when his stomach growled.

Cas pointed at his midsection with the cup. “Trying to sleep next to that is practically impossible. It’s been going on nonstop for the past hour, and it’s getting louder. It’s time to feed you. Wheels up in 10.” Cas turned and left the room, leaving the sweet smell of coffee behind him.

“Any for me?” Dean yelled after him.

“Not on an empty stomach!”

“Asshole!” Dean stumbled to the bathroom, trying to ignore how soaked the sheets were. Goddamn nightmare never disappointed. Every night, like clockwork. In a strange, disturbing kind of way, it had become kind of comforting. The one thing in this past year that he could always rely on. Mentally, he shook it away and turned on the water.

“Stupid angel and his stupid holier than thou attitude,” Dean grumbled all through the world’s fasted shower. “Who does he think he is to deny a man his god-given right to a steaming cup of coffee? It should be a capital crime.”

He exited the shower and angrily wiped away the fog off the mirror.

“Smirking bastard and his stupid-” Dean forgot what he was about to say when he saw the expression on his face. “What the...” He poked the smile with an accusing finger, but it only grew bigger.

“Gah! That’s unnatural.” He turned his back on the mirror and that disturbing muscle spasm. Knowing his luck, it was probably a result of a curse. Or maybe that witch ghost hit him with bad juju as a farewell gift. Nobody smiled in the morning. Actually, two mornings in a row. Totally unnatural.

Still, there was no denying the fuzzy feeling that warmed him from the inside out. Or the stupid nagging voice inside his head that crooned at the thought of Cas looking after him. With food, of all things. Damn it, that man knew him too well. Knew all his weaknesses.   

Even his hunter side, which always warned him never to let people get too close and never to allow somebody to know his weaknesses as it was a sure way to get murdered, was perfectly silent. The damn thing almost felt… asleep.

Was this how wolves felt when men first tamed them? Perfectly happy to sleep at their feet for a chance of a free meal.

Was this what domestic life felt like?

“Fuck! That’s why you don’t take man’s morning coffee.” Dean scrubbed his face, banishing stupid thoughts away. “Stop thinking, stupid brain.”

Dressed and feeling somewhat human again, Dean stepped out of the house and froze.

“The fuck is that?”

Cas, looking delicious in only pants and shirt, slowly looked down at the abomination he was sitting on and back at Dean. “It’s a flying elephant. Hop on.”

Dean stepped back as if it might come alive and attack him. “You must be joking.”

“Is the great hunter Dean Winchester scared of a little motorcycle?”

“Harley Davidson is a motorcycle. Yamaha is a motorcycle. Hell, even Suzuki is a motorcycle. That- that thing is an insult. And why the fuck is it red? Ugh, it hurts my eyes to look at it.”

 “You will not turn into a pillar of salt if you say its name. Common, try it with me – scooter.” Cas enunciated every word, his eyes sparkling with humor.

“You know what that stands for? Sleazebags, Cretins  Obnoxious and…” Dean paused, his brain failing to find another word for dipshit that starts with O. “ And losers.” He finished lamely. “It is a useless toy that no self-respecting car or motorcycle lover would go anywhere near.”

Cas looked up and mumbled something that suspiciously sounded like, “Give me patience.”

“It was the only transportation device available. Do you wish to debate some more about the characteristics of this particular model, or are you ready to eat?”

Of course, Dean’s stomach decided that was the best moment to make itself known with a deep rumble, making Cas laugh.

“Motherf- Fine. But I’m driving. You can barely handle a car.” Dean said.

Cas raised an eyebrow, turned slowly, and tapped the seat behind him.

“Don’t you trust me, Dean?” Cas flattered his eyelashes all innocent-like as if he hadn’t just thrown Dean’s words back at him. Before Dean could think of an answer, Cas threw him a helmet, which he barely managed to catch in time.

“I see what you did there,” Dean grumbled.

Cas smiled and turned the key, making the little toy rumble to life. “Trust goes both ways.”

Checkmate.

Manipulated into a corner by a snarky angel. Who would’ve thought Dean would’ve lived long enough to see it. Shaking his head in disbelief, he put the helmet on and gingerly, like it might bite him on the ass, took a seat behind Cas.

“Please, no broken limbs today,” Dean mumbled, gripping the metal bar behind him.

Cas put a helmet on and turned just enough to look Dean in the eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure all your…" his gaze slid downward, "appendages remain intact.”

With a laugh, Cas twisted the throttle, and the scooter jolted forward, making Dean grab onto Cas for dear life as he started sliding back. He could see his obituary clearly – Here lies Dean Winchester, the fearless hunter of demons, gods, and other small and big creepy-crawlies, killed by a Barbie toy. The shame!

“Breath, Dean.” Cas grabbed Dean’s hand, which was clutching his thigh for dear life, and moved it around his waist.

“Says the indestructible angel at the wheel,” Dean grumbled, wondering what he did in past life to end up dying now in such a ludicrous way.

To Dean’s annoyance, Cas maneuvered quite skillfully down the narrow road between the trees.

“I thought a tropical paradise would have more people?” Dean said, looking around as they passed closed-up, empty bungalows.

“It’s off-season. We are the only ones here. Well us and Somchai, the groundskeeper.” Cas said.

The forest abruptly ended and Cas turned left onto the main road.

“And he is ok with us shacking up in one of his houses?” Dean asked.

“Of course. Once I paid him, he was very amicable.” Cas said. 

Dean frowned in confusion. For some reason, he’d stupidly thought they were squatting. And why wouldn’t he? Who the hell had that kind of money? All that luxury. The night probably cost more than what he and Sam could’ve hustled together in a year.  

“Cas, do I dare ask where you got the money?”

Not taking his eyes off the road, Cas turned his head slightly toward Dean, and a smile slowly spread across his lips. “Mayor David Miller’s personal safe.”

“You- You actually-” Dean burst out laughing, struggling to get the words out.

“I left him a dollar,” Cas said, all serious, and Dean cracked up so hard he snorted.

***

They entered a small village, and Cas parked in front of the brightly painted house.  

“Somchai swore up and down this is where we’ll get the best food on the island.” Cas got off the scooter and hung his helmet on the steering wheel.

“Don’t care if they serve roadkill, I would eat anything.” Dean nearly stumbled when the wind shifted, and the most drool-inducing aroma hit his nose. Ignoring Cas' laugh, he was off following the smell like a bloodhound. Half running, he walked around the house into the yard and came to a screeching halt when a small, older woman appeared in front of him, seemingly out of thin air.

She was barely up to Dean’s chest, her bright eyes surrounded by lines, telling a story of life full of laughter, the sight of which hit Dean right in the chest. He had no idea why he suddenly had a lump in his throat, feeling both sad and oddly jealous of her. There was no doubt in his mind that she had a hard life. Her hands told a story of decades of hard work, and the house, although well-kept, has seen better days.

Yet through all that, she chose laughter.

Even in the face of a strange giant standing on her doorstep, instead of fear, she was smiling up at Dean like he was a part of her family. If Dean was in her shoes, he would’ve shot first and then asked questions.  

“Tourists!” She clapped her tiny hands excitedly.

“Um.” Dean stood frozen, not knowing what to do as she chatted up a storm at him. Not understanding a single word, she said he turned to call Cas for help, but before he could utter a word, she grabbed his hand in a surprisingly strong grip and pulled him deeper into the yard.

“Come, come, come.” She sat him at the small table, nodding like an idiot as she excitedly waved her hands, explaining something.

“She said today’s specials are Khao Pad and Gaeng Som Pla.” Cas bowed to the lady and sat across from Dean. At Dean’s blank stare, he laughed. “Chicken or fish curry.”

“Chicken, for sure,” Dean said.

Smiling, Cas talked with the woman far longer than it would take to order food. They looked like two old friends chatting away about their day, occasionally glancing at Dean, chuckling as if sharing a secret. With a decisive clap of her hands, she turned towered Dean, patted him gently on the cheek, and disappeared into the house.

“What was that all about?” Dean asked, confused. That was a lot of affection from someone who’d just met him.

“I asked if she could make it less spicy for you. She said you reminded her of her grandson. He is four.” Cas said, trying hard not to laugh.

“Hey,” Dean glared. “I can take spicy.”

“By all means. But don’t come complaining to me when you spend all night crying on the toilet.”

“Pfft. It can’t be that bad.” Dean waved away Cas' concern. If anybody knew spicy, it was Dean.

It was worse.

Confidently, he’d taken Cas’ plate - oh boy, how wrong he was. One bite, that was as far as he got. Dean was sure fumes were coming out of his ears, the top of his head pulsating like it would explode any minute. He fought not to show how much pain he was as a drop of sweat slid down the back of his neck.

Head cocked, Cas studied him like a bug under a microscope. “How is the fish, Dean?”

“Mmmmm…” There was no way he’d let the bastard know he was slowly being cooked from the inside out. “So goo- Ugh!” A piece of fish went down the wrong way, and he started coughing, which only made the heat worse.

“You’re such a child sometimes.” Laughing his ass off, Cas passed him a glass of water. “Drink before you have a heart attack, and I have to reanimate your stubborn ass.”

Dean guzzled down the water, but it did little to help stave off the heat. “Holy shit, is she trying to kill us?” Dean exclaimed, wiping away sweat from his forehead.

Cas reached across the table, grabbed a piece of fish, and ate it with gusto. “It’s actually quite mild.” He shrugged, licking his fingers.

Prick, Dean thought, gasping for breath. “You are such a pain slut.”

Cas coughed, food flying out of his mouth as blush slowly bloomed across his face. Dean panicked for a second, thinking maybe she had poisoned them when it hit him what he’d said. Holy fuck, Cas was embarrassed.

How tables have turned.

Biting his lip, trying to keep his face neutral, Dean slowly slid a glass of water toward Cas. “Have a drink before you stroke out on me, old man.”

“Eat me.” Cas glared at Dean, trying to look intimidating, but the laughter dancing in his eyes gave him away.

“Only if you beg.” Dean deadpanned, and the way Cas' pupils slowly dilated, he just knew Cas was remembering yesterday.  

Hell, every second of what they did was tattooed on the inside of Dean’s eyelids. The taste of Cas’ skin, the way he trembled, silently begging for more… How, with one word, he let go and placed himself in Dean’s hands, not an ounce of fear, only absolute trust that Dean would take care of him. Just remembering the rush of power he felt when a being that could crush him with a single thought surrendered beneath him had all his blood rushing south.

Dean slowly licked the sauce off his bottom lip, and Cas zeroed in on it like a homing missile. Cas leaned across the table, and Dean’s heart fluttered, hungry for the kiss, when the lady appeared and slid two beers between them.

“Oh no, no, no, mix wrong.” She grabbed their plates and put the fish in front of Cas. She turned to Dean with a smile. “Pretty boy, chicken.” She put the plate in front of him, patted his cheek again, and was gone.

The moment broken, Cas dug into his food like it wasn’t covered in nitroglycerin.  

“I think she likes you,” Cas said.

Dean snorted and tentatively took a bite of the chicken, moaning when the rich flavor exploded in his mouth. What looked like a boring ass rice dish made his mouth tingle in a cacophony of salt, sweetness, and garlic.

“Best breakfast ever,” Dean said.

“Lunch,” Cas said.

“Yeah, right. Very funny. I can barely string together four hours of sleep.”

“You slept for 26 hours.”

“I what- No Way.” Dean scowled. “Did you have anything to do with that?”

“No.” Cas shook his head. “I would not do that to you without your permission. I told you you were exhausted. I guess your body felt safe enough here to relax and get some rest.”

“Huh.” Now that he thought about it, ever since he first woke up in the bungalow, he had felt more at ease. Something told him it had nothing to do with the place but the angel he fell asleep on.

“So that means we’ve been here for a few days… Fuck, Baby!”  Dean stood up frantic, ready to run back to the US on foot if he had to. He’d left her all alone, surrounded by junkies and pimps. He’d be lucky if a single tire was left by the time he got back there. “I got to-”

Cas grabbed his hand before he could leave. “I called Sam. He drove her to the bunker.”

“Damn it, Cas, next time, lead with that. I almost had a heart attack.” Dean sat back down, rubbing his chest, willing his heart to slow down.

Cas chuckled. “Sam was positively glowing. I’ve heard that fatherhood does that to humans.”

“Sure. Talk to him again when they hit week two of sleep deprivation buried in dirty diapers and barf. Living hell.” Dean snorted. Thinking about all the adventures that were waiting for Sam, he almost missed how Cas suddenly tensed and looked away.

“What’s wrong? There something in the bushes?” Dean scanned the surroundings and reached for the gun, only to remember that he had forgotten it back at the house. How could he make such a rooky mistake? Talk about amateur hour. Goddamn it, this place was making soft.

“Relax, there is no danger.” Cas sighed and continued eating like nothing happened.

Dean waited a few seconds for an explanation, but Cas ignored him. He was acting all relaxed, but Dean saw right through him. His lips were pressed so tightly there was no color left in them.

“Dude.” Under the table, Dean nudged Cas' foot. “Remember what we agreed? Talking good. Silence bad.”

A small twitch in the corner of Cas’ lips. His eyes flicked to Dean’s and back to his plate. “Do you really see having kids as a living hell?”

“Um…” That was the last thing he expected Cas to ask.

He’d spent his life saving the world from one apocalypse after another. Bringing kids into that kind of violence had never been an option. Just one look at his own childhood and any psychiatrist would commit him and throw away the key.

“No, not really. I mean kids… It’s not something I ever really thought about.”

Still tense like a coiled spring, Cas nodded and continued eating.

Dean watched him mechanically stuff his mouth with bite-size pieces, not really tasting the food, and tried to imagine a house full of laughter, the sound of small feet running around…

Dean would just ruin it.

Sam, on the other hand, would be awesome at it. The stupid hippy with his “let’s talk about our feelings” life motto was natural at that kind of shit. What the hell did Dean have to offer besides teaching the kid a hundred ways to kill or how to disassemble a gun?

Dean thought about Cas' dream and the door with red letters on it. It was a beautiful dream, but could he dare to make it into reality? Try and be a father. It’s not like he had a great role model growing up. And he had a long and bloody history of resolving conflicts with his fists first. It was the only thing he knew growing up. What if he ended up being the same as John? A raving drunk whose only parental contribution was years of abuse.

Dean took a drink of water with a shaking hand, the ice-cold glass grounding him in here and now.

Tentatively, scared of the answer and also burning to know, he summed up the courage and asked, “You want kids?”

Hearing something in Dean’s voice, Cas paused eating. With narrowed eyes, he gazed at Dean with that look in his eyes that saw too much. Dean swallowed nervously, knowing in his bones that all his fears and trepidation about the future were laid bare to Cas like pages of a book.

“Yes,” Cas said, his eyes burning with blue fire, and the word echoed with power and promise in Dean’s soul - Yes - I’ll be there with you every step of the way; Yes - I will not let you stumble; Yes - I will never allow you to be like your father.

And all Dean’s doubts melted away.

Cas would be an awesome father - there, at the snap of fingers, ready to help. With just a wave of his hand, he could heal any cut or bump. And if ever Dean behaved like an asshole, Cas would tell him, as he’d always done.

Yes, a family with Cas… Dean could see it clearly now.

“Then, we’ll have kids,” Dean said. The change on Cas' face was like watching the sun finally burst through the thick layer of clouds, shining brightly in all its glory.

“Ok.” Cas breathed softly.

Dean tapped his beer bottle against Cas’ and winked. “Ok.” 

The smile that slowly spread across Cas’ face was blinding.

They finished the rest of the meal in silence, drinking cold beer, throwing glances at each other, Cas' leg firmly pressed against Dean’s.

It was the best lunch Dean had eaten in the last few decades.

***

Cas fired up the scooter as Dean put on his helmet. He’d tried to get the keys, but Cas wasn't having it, so, once again, he found himself stuck in the back. Looking like a complete loser.

“Where to?” Cas asked.

Dean looked around at the row of houses and the trees behind them, everything vibrating with the song of cicadas - a whole island just waiting for them to explore.

Dean tipped his head in the direction of the open road. “Drive.” 

“Drive?” Cas turned slightly, not sure what he meant.  

Dean put his hands around Cas and kissed his neck. “Yeah, just drive.”

Cas closed his eyes and slowly exhaled, and when he opened them, there was peace in the blue depths. “I can do that.”

They left the village behind and entered the forest. The road cut through it, bending and turning, and after a while, Dean had to admit Cas drove it like he'd done it a hundred times.

From time to time, the forest tined enough that they could see the sea on their left, and when the sun broke through the clouds, it was the most majestic sight Dean had seen.

A movement in the corner of his eyes caught his attention, and he turned just in time to see a family of monkeys jumping from tree to tree. He watched them with amazement, remembering all the nature shows he’d seen as a kid and how sad he had been that he’d never see them in real life. 

Occasionally, they passed a lonely driver who greeted them with a smile and a wave, like they were family. It seemed as if the whole island was untouched by violence, and people just lived from day to day perfectly content.

With each mile, Dean gradually eased the death grip he had on Cas’ waist. The rumble between his legs and the sun’s warmth seeped into his bones, chasing away the last of his worries, and with a sigh, he rested his head on Cas’ shoulder and let go. 

On and on, they drove with no destination in mind. They passed villages and houses, and it all blurred together into dots of colors here and there in the sea of green. Dean watched it all drifting somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, his mind completely silent.

There was nothing but the slow rise and fall of Cas breathing under his arms and the sounds of occasional raindrops on Dean’s helmet.

“The only thing missing is a rainbow,” Dean murmured sleepily and felt more than heard Cas laugh.

“I had no idea you were such a romantic.”

“Shut it, you, I am just-” Too late, it hit Dean the danger they were in. “Fuck, it’s raining!”

“It’s just a drizzle. It will pass soon-”

“Cas, Stop! The road is-” They hit a turn, the wheels skidding across the wet road like it was ice. Cas lost control, and Dean went flying.

Chapter Text

This will hurt like a son of a bitch, Dean thought as he watched in slow motion the road get closer and closer to his face. He would bet his left nut that it was all because of that stupid smile he saw in the mirror. It was so glaringly obvious that it was a curse.

The story of his life. When he actually took a moment to think about it there was nothing really to be surprised about. It was only a matter of time. It was Winchester's fate.

In vain effort to protect his head, Dean lifted his hands and braced for impact. He closed his eyes, not wanting to watch himself turn into roadkill. When hands came around him, he popped them open in surprise, and out of nowhere, Cas appeared in front of him. He had enough time to notice the blue fire in Cas’ eyes before he tucked Dean’s head in the crock of his shoulder.

Dean blinked, and time returned to normal.

They smashed into the road with enough force to expel all the air out of his lungs. They skidded a good 30 feet across the wet road, Cas gripping him tightly, somehow keeping them from rolling. They hit the end of the road and crashed into a ditch. With a grunt, Dean landed on top of Cas.

Shivering from shock and adrenaline, Dean whipped away a leaf stuck to his face and looked down at Cas in amazement. Somehow the son of a bitch had caught him, took the brunt of the hit, and managed to keep him in one piece. Cas’ shirt was completely ruined, his right shoulder blood-soaked, the shredded skin slowly healing. The fire in his eyes dimmed.

“Dean, are you all right?” Cas ran his hands all over him, checking for injuries.

“Not even a scratch."Dean breathed in wonder. "Actually, I might have a concussion cause I could have sworn I was sitting behind you. How did we… What did you… Did we fly? No, we didn’t. I was about to leave half my face on the road and then…” Dean’s voice trailed off as he struggled to wrap his mind around what had happened.

 Cas’ face fell, and he looked away almost as if he was trying to hide from Dean. “I kind of forgot.” He murmured.

Dean’s eyebrows drew together in concern. “Forgot what?”

But Cas remained silent, refusing to look at Dean. His face was a stone mask, giving nothing away, and even his breathing evened out and slowed. But underneath Dean’s hands, Cas’ heart was beating widely, in complete contrast to the calm façade he put on. Gently, Dean cupped his cheek and waited.

It didn’t take long. There was a small hitch in Cas' breath that caused his entire body to tense beneath Dean, before he reluctantly looked at Dean.

“I forgot I could fly.”

“How do you forget that?” Dean blurted out before he could process what Cas meant by it, only to instantly regret it when Cas flinched like he’d been slapped. "Oh."

 “Yes, apparently it takes only a few hundred years in prison for an angel to forget he could fly. No, I know I can, and I do it all the time. It’s just not the first thing I reach for in an emergency.” Like a dam had broken, everything came rushing out, Cas’ face red with anger and shame. “Instead of flying us out of there, my first instinct was to break a few laws of physics and put you in more danger. You could’ve ended up seriously hurt. Who does that? I’m not even sure I’m an angel anymore-”

Dean pressed a finger to Cas’ lips and stopped his rambling.

“You broke laws of physics? Fucking hell, Cas…” Dean’s voice trailed off as he tried to process what he heard.

Cas’ face was crestfallen with shame, his eyes barely able to meet Dean’s. “I’m sorry. I’ll-”

Dean slammed his mouth onto Cas’, pushing past the chapped lips deep into the velvet heat, burning with the need to claim all of Cas.

Cas had broken the laws of physics for him. The thought swirled round and round in his head, mixing with the sound of his pounding heart, making it hard to hear anything else.

Dean was burning as if with every swirl of Cas’ tongue against his, a pure essence of life seeped into him. Maybe it was the near-death experience and the miraculous save that followed, but Dean had never felt more alive. A moan escaped him when Cas’ hands tightened around him, pulling him closer, the heat of his body making it hard to think.

Cas is all wiry muscles, hard and unyielding underneath him, so different than the softness of a woman’s curves. It was not something Dean had ever thought would make his blood sing, yet ever since he felt Cas’ body pressed against his in that dream, there was nothing else he could think about. Compared to it, nothing came even close. Not good food, and most definitely not his past sexapades. With one moan of Dean’s name, Cas had erased every face that had ever been in Dean’s bed, branding himself onto Dean’s soul.

Had he ever thought about a man’s dick before - fuck no. Had he felt even a twitch of embarrassment when he rode Cas like a starved man - fuck no. It was Cas. Cas was as much part of Dean as his own right eye – inseparable, undeniable.  

Cas slid his hand down Dean’s back and into his pants, squeezing his ass hard.

“Fuck Cas, you feel so- Oh!” Dean moaned when Cas licked down his jaw and lightly bit his neck, quickly covering the tender spot with kisses that went straight down to Dean’s toes.

Dean rutted against Cas with abandon, the hard feel of Cas cock against his making him feel stars. Cas wrapped his strong legs around him, bucking against Dean, sending him straight to the edge. Just one more stroke, against Cas’ beautiful cock, and-

Cas froze.

Dean opened his heavy eyelids, his brain too slow to process anything through the haze of lust, only to find Cas staring at something over Dean’s left shoulder. Ready for the worst, painfully aware he was missing his gun, Dean slowly turned and blinked in confusion.

A bold man in an orange robe stood above them, a long stick in his hand and a wide smile on his face. He said something that sounded like a question, and when Cas answered, he threw his head back, laughing long and hard before turning and walking away.

Mouth open, Dean stared at the empty spot where the man had stood. “Did we just get cockblocked by a monk.”

“Seems so,” Cas said.

“Ugh.” Dean removed his helmet and let his head fall on Cas’ shoulder in defeat. 

“Maybe we should go see what’s left of the scooter.” Cas pulled his hand out of Dean’s pants, making him groan at the loss.

“I’ll need a minute,” Dean grumbled willing his dick to go down.  Cas lightly ran his hand through Dean’s hair, making him shiver. “Dude, you are not helping. I’m not getting out of this hole cock first.”

Cas started shaking, and Dean looked up, scared that he was having a seizure or something, but the bastard was laughing his ass off.

“Sorry, I just imagined the look on his face if you did that.” 

“Did you see the size of that stick? He’d probably chase me half way back to Kansas.” Dean snorted, and Cas lost it, laughing until tears ran down his face.

Dean laughed with him, so high on happiness it felt like he was floating. If this is what only a few days with Cas made him feel, he could not wait to spend the rest of his days with him.

Unfortunately there was no silencing the other part of Dean that half expected him to wake up any moment blinking at the harsh light of some shit motel, a splitting headacke and empty bottles of whiskey his only companion. He still lived in fear that all of this was nothing but a dream, and he was only seconds away from waking up to the harsh reality of the real world and the dull ache of his meaningless life.

It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened. Just thinking about the last time was enough to deflate his cock faster than a popped balloon. He glanced at his ruined forearm, wondering why Cas hadn’t mentioned it once. It wasn’t like he could have missed all that mess.

“Hey,” Cas palmed Dean’s face, his thumb gently stroking his cheekbone. “Where did you go?”

The soft touch and the tender look in Cas’ eyes almost broke Dean down. He nearly opened his mouth, ready - no, needing to spill it all out, but in the last minute, swallowed it all down and locked it tight. Why ruin a perfect moment with all his bullshit.

Instead, he put on a grin and pretended everything was perfect. “Just thinking how much trouble we are in when your groundskeeper sees what we did to his scooter.”

Cas’ brows furrowed, and he parted his lips, no doubt about to call Dean out on his blatant lie. But something on Dean’s face stopped him, or maybe he heard how much everything inside Dean screamed, begging him to leave it be.

Instead, Cas smiled. “I believe Somchai will laugh it off now that he finally has enough money to build a house for his family.” 

“How much exactly did you nick from that safe?” Dean asked.

Cas shrugged innocently. “Oh, I don’t know, a few million.” His eyes twinkling with mischief.

“At last, we can retire and give up this life of crime.” Laughing, Dean slapped Cas’ chest and stood up. “Come on, Robin Hood, the priest awaits.”

 They looked like the river had tried to drown them, only to decide they weren’t worth the trouble and spat them back out. From head to toe, Dean was covered in leaves and wet mud. Cas, on the other hand, looked like a victim of a failed murder attempt.

At least the rain had stopped, Dean thought as he slipped several times, trying to get out of the ditch. When they finally got back on the road, Dean was tempted to crawl right back into the hole.

The monk was slowly pushing their scooter toward them, the look in his eyes not as benevolent as Dean had expected from a man of the cloth. His eyes danced with amusement, but something in their depths had Dean swallowing nervously.

This was a man who, with one look, could cut through the bullshit and hit the truth dead-on. There was no doubt in Dean mind that the guy had seen some heavy shit in his life, but no matter how much Dean tried he could not pinpoint his age. There were so few lines on his face, yet his eyes held the wisdom of an old man. It was as if the years he’d spent on this earth had failed to leave a mark on him.

The monk stopped in front of them and said something, pointing in the direction they were going to before the accident. Cas bowed to him and took the handlebars.

“There is a village less than a kilometer that way?” Cas said.

Dean looked down at the state of his clothes.

“Maybe we should go back to-” The monk put a hand on Dean’s shoulder, cutting him off mid-sentence. He turned Dean around and gently pushed him toward the village while talking. "Cas, what's happening?" Nervously, Dean glanced back at Cas. "Is this a kidnapping? Should I start shooting?" 

“He says we’ll find dry clothes there, and…” Cas’ voice trailed off.

Dean glanced over his shoulder at frowning Cas, his head tipped to the side, the way it always did when something confused him. “What? Did we finally find one bad thing in this paradise? What is it? Is the monk actually a cannibalistic lizard? Is the village overun by baby stealing parrots?”

Dean almost felt giddy. All this carefree gallivanting across the island was great, but nothing made his blood sing like a good old salt and burn.

“A party,” Cas said.

“Party? Like a blood sacrifice party?” Dean asked excitedly, still hoping for mayhem. God there was something seriously wrong with him, that after only two days of nothing but the sun and beaches, he was feeling antsy.

It was as if the accident had reminded him who he really was - an adrenaline junky. Hell, even the frisky moments with Cas all came after a good amount of pain, blood, and gore. Vampires, ghosts, accidental drowning, the list went on and on.

Maybe that was who Dean was. A soldier who could stand only a few days of R&R, just enough to charge his batteries, and was ready to get back to the grind.

Cas fell in step beside Dean, pushing the scooter between them. “If I understand correctly, it’s either a fire or light festival.”

“Oh.” Just as fast as it came, all the excitement left Dean. He should be doing something that actually matters. Not flounce around eating delicious meals, watching monkeys, and now a twinkle festival. The only thing this island paradise gave him was the growing feeling that he didn’t belong.

But where could he go? Back to the bunker? Fuck no. Now that Sam had left, the thought of returning to its empty hallways turned his stomach.  

And what about Cas?

It was only a matter of time, before he realized how fucked up Dean actually was. Not like he was sane before. Some scars cut too deep to ever heal.

But now, after the whole Empty debacle… Dean might have been successful at hiding it, but even now, he could feel it all bubbling inside him. It was only a question of time when it would all boil over and explode in Dean’s face. Bye-bye dreams of yellow fence house and one point two kids.

Dean should just tell Cas now, not string him along. Cas deserved better. Somebody who would not end up pissing on his dreams because he was fucked in the head.

Yes, he would do it now.

Dean opened his mouth when the hand on his shoulder squeezed him tightly. He glanced at the monk who was watching him closely. The look in his eyes was the kind Dean had thought only Cas could pull off. The one that saw straight into Dean’s very soul, making him feel naked and vulnerable.

With a sharp tsk, the monk smacked him on the back of his head, making him stumble in surprise. With a laugh, he walked off, leaving Dean standing there, mouth open in shock.

“The hell was that?” Dean wondered, rubbing the painful spot.

“You ok, Dean?” Cas, who’d missed the entire weird exchange, looked back at him with concern. “If you don’t want to go, how about a swim? A beach is not far from here…. Or we can return to the house. Sit next to the pool?”

Lost in thought, Dean missed the question, and as the silence stretched, Cas’ face slowly fell.

“…what was I thinking?” Cas said, “You are right. We’ve been here too long. And you didn’t really want to come. I kind of kidnapped you and brought you here against your will. I’ll get us back to Lebanon.” Dean snapped out of it just in time to catch the tail end of what Cas was saying.

Looking like a kicked dog, Cas turned the scooter and walked back toward Dean. All the spark in his eyes was gone. Dean wanted to yell for the monk to come back and use something heavier to smack some sense into him.

“No, Cas.” Dean forced a smile, lying through his teeth. “I was just thinking about the last time I went to a party, and I couldn’t remember. Can you believe that?” Dean said cheerfully, while inside, anger burned a hole in his stomach.

Fuck he’d almost ruined it all. For what? 

Here, right here and now, with Cas, this was real.

Not his doubts.

Not his fears, and most of all, not his demons.

He swung his arm around Cas’ shoulder. “You ready to get stupid drunk and curse my name in the morning?”

“I’m not sure there is enough alcohol on this island for me to get even tipsy,” Cas said gravely, seemingly devastated, but the faint smile at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

“Ha! Famous last word.” Dean laughed, trying to push the lingering darkness from his mind, but it clung on, its claws burrowed too deep to shake.

Chapter Text

The fan turned lazily on the ceiling, making a sad little squeak with every turn, adding to the noise coming through the window on Dean’s left. The plastic chair under his ass was already ancient when Dean was young, and he tried not to move too much when he realised how much its legs strained under his weight.

The walls were freshly painted white, and the three beds on his right were cheap but functional. All in all, it wasn’t a bad room. If only it didn’t look like a bomb had gone off.

Was he ever this young, Dean wondered, looking at the clothes, beer cans, and half-eaten bags of chips that covered every available surface in that unique style of chaos only college-age guys can create.

A touch of envy made him scowl. Dean had never had the freedom to go wherever and whenever he wanted and simply have fun.

Thankfully, the feeling did not last long. He huffed in amusement at how pointless it was to sit here and cry over his past. At least he’d acquired a bit of wisdom with age.

Looking down at his hands, he traced the lines that crisscrossed his palms. Like always, when he could not tell which lines were naturally formed and which were scars, a sense of detachment threatened to overwhelm him, as if he were looking at some stranger’s body.

Breathing slowly in through the nose, out through the mouth, he stayed with the feeling until his mind, that had been running a thousand miles an hour, settled down. In and out, he slowly breathed, grounding himself just the way Sam thought him.

The thought of Sam made him smile. He’d become insufferable after Dean’s little incident, reading everything he could find about trauma and shit. As if he could find in books a remedy for the mountain of psychological crap they'd accumulated under their belts. 

And yet, there was no denying that this and other little tricks he'd thought Dean helped. That is when Dean remembered to actually do them. Unfortunately, he'd forgotten all about them since Cas had come back, thinking everything would magically fix itself. No such luck.

A cold shiver ran through him at the thought of how badly things could have turned out back on that road. How badly Cas could have been hurt. They were flying through the air, and Dean didn’t for a second worry about himself. It was Cas. Always Cas on his mind.

It wasn’t the first time he’d put somebody else’s well-being above his own. It was one thing he excelled at. And one thing Sam spent the last year trying to correct. Which was a polite way of saying he’d spent months smacking Dean over the head, trying to hammer into his thick skull that it was time to put himself first.

Which is why there was no debate when they both decided to part ways for a while and do their own thing. With one look, Sam had shut him up and sent him on his way.

Go and find Cas, Sam had said.

So here Dean was, trying not to fly off the handle, too many thoughts all jumbled up in his mind. Much like the chaos in this room.

Fucking accident. 

For a second there, he’d almost spiraled into one of his moods. He hadn’t had an episode like that in... Huh, he’d forgotten the last time he craved danger like an addict. If he was totally honest with himself, it wasn’t a need, more a way to escape reality by jumping headfirst into danger.

What the hell was he thinking, wishing for vampires and monsters on a vacation that he’d spend decades dreaming about. Sam would have a couple of choice words to say about that for sure. Thank god the monk was there to smack some sense into him.

Huh.. Good thing there was zero chance of Sam and the monk meeting in this lifetime. What a nightmare that would have been.

Dean took a long inhale, holding his breath for a few beats before he let it out. At least this time it was his hunger for danger. The other craving wasn’t as much fun.

Dean's fingers traced the scars on his forearm, the rough texture teasing the memories to the forefront of his mind. Dean whipped his eyes to the ceiling and slammed the doors shut on the past. He would not go there.

Dean wiped a hand down his face, his lip curling into a smile when the scruff on his chin scratched his palm. If Sam saw him now, he'd have a field day. The scruff was well on its way to becoming a full beard, and the way his wet hair was getting dangerously close to his eyes-

“Bah, who gives a fuck how I look.” Cas was here, and he was whole and thriving. He even looked happy. That was what truly mattered.

They were like two peas in a pod, Cas and him. Both broken, probably beyond repair, trying to keep each other going. More like blind leading the blind, but who cared. They were alive.

In and out, Dean exhaled through his mouth. Cas could have been seriously hurt just cause he was protecting Dean.

Forgot he could fly… three thousand years.

Dean had heard the number, straight from Cas’ mouth, and yet it was as if Dean’s mind refused or could not comprehend it. Then the accident happened, and Dean saw with his own eyes how much Cas had changed.

“What the heck is taking him so long?” Dean glared at the bathroom door. The need to have his eyes on Cas was growing by the minute. The only thing keeping him from breaking in there was the sound of running water.

“Stupid pocket-sized shower.” They should have been in there together. It wasn’t wise to have Cas out of his sight. The way Dean’s anxiety was spiking, it was the stupidest idea ever. Why the fuck didn’t Cas leave the door open? As if Dean hadn’t seen him naked already.

“Ugh.” Dean sank back until his head rested on the wall and reminded himself to breathe slowly.

He deserved this. They deserved this. They fought long and hard for this, so he’d better shut up and enjoy it. No more spiraling or anxiously waiting for danger to jump at them from the shadows. Which, to be honest, with their track record, was bound to happen sooner or later.

“Jesus,” Dean lightly banged his head on the wall. It was the impossible conundrum where the only solution was to just be in the now. Their past was fucked, and the odds for their future didn’t look good. The one thing they had left was present.

“Eurica, we are saved.” The snort that came out of Dean's mouth was dripping with sarcasm.

Dean had to remain strong for Cas. So first things first – ensure Cas was ok, and then Dean could relax and unravel at the seams. It wasn’t like he was in any rush. Dean's turn at the crazy wheel would have to wait.

“And I’m back to prioritizing others over myself.” Sam would be really pissed. Better not tell him. Besides, they were doing fine. Everything was just fine. Dean had it all under control… Hopefully.

Deal stared at the fan, still a bit dazed and a fair bit confused at how they ended up in this room.

Trailing after the monk, they'd entered a small village when the guy disappeared on them. Dean had been reaching for a gun, his hackles raised at the way the monk was there one moment and gone the next, when a woman came to greet them.

From there on, it was a whirlwind of smiling faces, shaking hands, and too much hospitality for Dean’s taste. There was something seriously wrong with the people of this island. They were too goddamn trusting. In no time, the woman’s neighbor, or cousin, because it was perfectly normal that everybody knew everybody here, was fixing their scooter.

They left the guy's garage, turned the corner, and ran into a bunch of kids on a vacation who promptly opened the door to their room and clothes.

In less than an hour, Dean was scrubbed clean, sitting on a chair beneath a squealing fan, waiting for Cas to finish showering.

“Too goddamn trusting. And really bad taste,” Dean murmured, looking down at the clothes he was wearing.

It was hard not to glower at the t-shirt he had on. The color was okay, a dark blue, nothing too fancy. But the bright pink flamingo that took up most of the lower left side was a crime against humanity. The color was so bright it was hard to look straight at it, for fear it would burn right through Dean’s cornea, leaving him permanently blind.

Dean chuckled at the irony his life had become. A year ago, he wouldn’t have been coughed dead wearing this, and now… Now he had no fucks to give. At least the linen pants fit him and were quite comfortable.

“Dean,” Dean’s head whipped up when Cas called him. “I am not sure these clothes are… appropriate.”

Dean didn't see what clothes Cas had chosen when he entered the bathroom, but judging by that lengthy pause, Cas was having a flamingo of his own to reckon with.

“Nothing these guys have is appropriate, Cas.” Dean glared at the clothes spilling out of a bag on the floor. It looked more like an unhinged modern art installation. A squashed backpack vomiting all the colors of the rainbow, including a few Dean had never seen before.

“I don’t understand why I can’t just fix our clothes. Or fly to a mall and buy something a bit more to my taste,” Cas complained, sounding totally put out.

In any other situation, Dean would not push him on something so minuscule as clothes. Cas was a grown man who could make his own choices. But not today. Today, Dean was trying a new strategy. The one in which Cas was so preoccupied with trivial human affairs, he’d have no time to dwell on the past.

Shower, clothes, party. In that order.

Considering how Dean’s last two genius plans had backfired, this one, too, had a high probability of exploding in their faces.

But Dean wouldn't give up. He’d try and try and try until he found the right one and Cas was healed. It didn’t matter how long that could take. Dean had enough patience for both of them. And time. Lots and lots of free time. 

“No way, Jose. No angel mojo unless somebody is on the verge of dying. We are going full native on this little Survival episode of ours. Besides, live a little. Now get out here.” Dean said all serious but his cheek was already twitching with the beginning of a laugh. Just imagining Cas in colorful clothes had him struggling to keep his face straight.

With a long-suffering exhale, Cas opened the door, and Dean swallowed his tongue.

The dark purple shirt was one size too small, which meant that every inch of fabric hugged Cas’ body like a long-lost lover, leaving nothing to the imagination. Cas pulled at the collar around his neck, and all Dean could see was how perfectly the short sleeves wrapped around his biceps. With every movement, muscles rippled, making Dean’s pulse jump.

His gaze slid down to the black shorts splashed with flowers of every color. It was meant to be ugly and tacky and an eyesore, yet Dean had to fight back a moan at the way they stretched perfectly over Cas’ front.

Dean’s mouth watered at the thought of crawling on his hands and knees to Cas. Stalking Cas like a prey until he was up against the wall with nowhere to run. Then he'd pull that pant leg up with his teeth until he could see all of that corded, beautifully defined thigh muscle. A world for one small bite on Cas’ inner thigh. Just a little indentation below his-

Holy fuck, did Dean just discover a new kink?

He did enjoy making all those nice red marks on Cas’ ass. Or was his kryptonite Cas in tight clothes? Must be, cause the way Dean’s cock was waking up and taking notice of all those well-defined lines delicately packed in sexy two sizes too small clothing, was definitely not his mind playing tricks on Dean. Cas looked like a beautiful present, wrapped and delivered to Dean on a silver platter. 

It still boggled his mind that he’d gone seemingly overnight from “hell yeah soft and curvy” to "yummy strong, firm muscles". Well, there was also that thing he had for uniforms. Now that he had taught about it, it could be more tied to the men in them.

 “I look ridiculous,” Cas grumbled and started unbuttoning his shirt.

“No, you don’t,” Dean jumped. “I mean, you look fine, Cas. Like…um real…” Words failed Dean when a button slipped free, revealing all that glorious chest hair. “Nice.”

“Nice? Are you pulling my leg right now? Look at the flowers on this thing. If fairies vomited all over these shorts, they wouldn’t look this tacky. And the shirt is really tight around the chest.” Cas pulled the shirt, the fabric stretching dangerously close to tearing.

In two steps, Dean was on him, twisting Cas’ hands behind his back. Dean opened his mouth to scold him for almost destroying a work of art when a tantalizing smell tickled his nose.

“Is that…” Dean leaned in, inhaling, his eyes fluttering closed at the sweet fragrance of peaches. A peach-smelling angel - Dean had never smelled anything so adorable.

“No.” Cas glared, seething with anger.

“No?” Dean blinked, confused.

“Do not give me that look.” Pressed close to Cas, Dean had a front row seat to the most adorable blush that slowly rose up Cas’ neck, blooming across his cheeks. It was a battle not to smile. Especially when he started to wonder if he could also make the tips of Cas’ ears flush.

“There’s no look.” Dean had no idea what they were talking about, but he was having the time of his life.

“That look right there. I am a soldier. I do not look adorable.” Cas tried to extract himself from Dean’s hold, but when Dean pressed his hands to Cas' lower back, Cas’ mouth parted, and he melted in Dean’s hold. Having him surrender in Dean’s hands was the most intoxicating experience of Dean’s life.

 “Are you reading my mind?” Pretending he was shocked and insulted when all Dean wanted was to see how far he could push him was an exercise in will. 

“I, um, don’t have to. It’s all over your face... And it’s loud like that eyesore you call a shirt.” Cas glared at the pink flamingo as if by will alone he could flay it off Dean’s t-shirt.

Dean grinned at Cas' weak attempt to change the subject. Two can play the game.

 “Hey, don’t be rude to Nigel. It's not his fault. He’s just an unfortunate victim of fashion gods. And there is nothing on my face. Didn’t move a muscle.”

“Of course, you named it. You could have picked anything, and you chose to wear that?”

“You know how much I love feathered creatures who possess an extraordinary flair for making an entrance and stealing the spotlight.” Dean winked, cheekily referring to Cas’ infamous barn entrance.

With a growing smile, Dean watched as the tips of Cas’ ears combusted in a blaze of shy glory.  

Biting his lip, Cas' eyes searched Dean’s face before he leaned across the little space that separated them and breathed. “I really want to kiss you.” 

“What’s stopping you?” Dean asked.

“I have this horrible track record of messing things up when I take the initiative,” Cas said, and Dean thought about their first kiss in the sea. Sure, it was all around messy, but so goddamn glorious. Besides, it was Dean who kissed him first. Well, more like gnawed on his lip, but who was paying attention to small details like that.

“I love your messes, Cas.” Dean ran his tongue over his lower lip, drawing a small groan from Cas.

“Yeah? I got a lot of it.” Cas' eyes were locked on Dean’s lips like nothing else existed in the world.

“Bring it on, cupcake.” Dean released Cas and slid his hands to his waist, holding him tight, just in case he changed his mind and decided to retreat.

“Don’t call me-”

“Flaming adorable sweeth- Ugh,” Cas claimed Dean’s lips like Dean was the answer to all his prayers. As if he hung up the moon and the sun and the sky and was created just for Cas. He nibbled on Dean's lip, and when Dean parted his mouth, he slipped inside.

Cas tasted like toothpaste, and sky and freedom and new beginnings and all the things that made Dean’s heart stutter when he dared hope. And when he realized Cas still had his hands behind his back where Dean left them, Dean lost it. He had to have him, right here and now.

Just when he was about to rip Cas’ clothes off, the sound of laughter spilled through the window.

“Yo, guys, you done? Let's go! Day is young and the drinks are getting warm!” A voice called.

“Fuuuuuuuuck,” Dean groaned, rubbing his painfully hard dick against Cas’. “Mark my words, Cas, I’m gonna die on this island. A painful, slow death from blue balls.”

Cas traced the line of Dean’s jaw with kisses. “Ignore them. They’ll go away. Where were we?”

“It’s their… room… Cas,” The way Cas' teeth scraped Dean’s neck was making it really hard to care if guys burst in right now and found them naked humping each other against the wall. At the sound of a knock on the window, Dean ripped himself away from Cas. “Save it for later. Let's go before I ravage you where you stand.”

Dean whirled around on his heel and angrily yanked the door open, almost tearing it from its hinges. Frustration was exactly what he needed to kill the hard-on before he was arrested for indecent exposure.

“Ravage? I didn’t say no to ravaging. Wait, Dean! Ravage away!”

“Common lover boy, the day is young.” Dean walked down the narrow corridor, laughed at Cas' quiet cursing as he stepped behind him a moment later.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?” Dean kept his eyes straight, afraid that if he looked back at Cas, he'd end up dragging him back inside and finishing what they started. 

“How dangerous are these blue balls?" Cas asked. "'Cause it’s really hard to walk right now.”

Dean laughed all the way to the bar.

Chapter Text

For Dean, this was their second date.

And judging by the way Cas kept glancing at him with that spark in his eye that lit his entire face, it was going quite well.

They were walking side by side a small distance behind their new hosts, deciding unanimously with one look at each other that all that young energy was quite exhausting.

Or perhaps they needed a bit of time for themselves to simply take it all in. In silence. Away from all the questions, and comments, and youthful exuberance. Cause in Dean’s mind, the best way to describe these kids was puppies on speed. They were too loud, too fast, and too exhausting. So, with a nod to each other, they’ve dragged their feet until they were far enough to see but not to hear them.

Looking at all the people milling about, it was difficult to understand what all the fuss was about. Festival like any other, Dean thought. That is, until they came around the corner.

“Holy shit…” Words failed Dean as his mouth flew open in wonder.

Thousands of candles adorned every nook and cranny, while colorful silk fabrics hung above them, gently swaying in the wind. The wisps of smoke from burning incense curled around them, saturating the air with sandalwood and lotus flowers.

It was as if the village was lifted straight out of a fairy tale.

“This. Is. Awesome.” Dean breathed. He would have stayed there for hours just taking it all in. The whole place radiated a wild, unrestrained joy that was simply contagious.  

With a quiet laugh, Cas pulled his t-shirt, and they joined the river of people that seemed to have come from all over the island to celebrate.

Looking left and right, Dean quickly realized he was the most underdressed person here. Young or old, they were all wearing their Sunday best. But it was the explosion of colors that teased a laugh out of him. And to think that a minute ago he’d been complaining about his overly pink flamingo.

Dean could not wait to see the village when the night fell. A corner of his lip twitched at the fact that he was looking forward to something, not cause it was a tool, or a new weapon they could use, but because it was beautiful.

How long has it been since the last time he’d slowed down just to appreciate small things? Moments like these were few and far between, yet something told him he’d better get used to them, cause with Cas, this was gonna become a new normal.

“Can’t fucking wait,” Dean whispered.

“Come on, I can smell food. It’s coming from this way.” Cas said and reached for Dean’s hand, but Dean pulled back sharply, out of reach.

Seeing the crestfallen look on Cas' face, Dean rushed to explain. “Hey, none of that. I’m just not sure… I mean, is it ok here to… You know, um, you and me…” With every stuttering word from Dean’s mouth, Cas' dejected face slowly transformed to amusement, then glee, until he was biting his lip trying not to laugh outright.

“You are doing really good, Dean. You’re almost making full sentences.”

“Fuck off, Cas.” Dean lightly punched Cas' shoulder. “Don’t make me say it.”

Unable to keep it in any longer, Cas burst out laughing. “Could’ve watched you go all day.”

“Yes, yes, laugh it up. I live for your entertainment. But seriously, are we gonna… You know… get stoned to death for holding hands?” Dean looked around, conscious that they were in the middle of a crowded street, and if anything happened, there was nowhere for them to run.

As if feeling Dean’s apprehension, Cas squeezed his shoulder, the touch instantly melting the tension out of him. “No, Dean. It’s safe. In fact, gay marriage is legal here.”

“Oh. Right. I knew that. Sure, totally.” It wasn’t every day Dean felt out of his debt. Not for a second did he have any hang-ups about being with Cas. But out and about…

Looking back at their first date, he never publicly showed any affection. They had walked the gardens at a slight distance, only occasionally their shoulders brushing. Teasing smiles flying left and right.

“Are you coming?” As if he could hear Dean’s thoughts, Cas held out his hand, his chin dipped low as if waiting for a rejection. Yet a challenge flashed in his eyes as he gazed at Dean through his eyelashes.

It was a dare. Loud and clear. Take Cas' hand, and claim him in front of all these people, and the world. Or they continue as they’ve done since the beginning. Publicly maintain the image of friendship, and privately fuck like bunnies.  

Looking at those gorgeous blue eyes, Dean knew without a doubt that no matter what he chose, Cas would not judge him. He might be sad, even devastated, but he’d hide his pain and respect Dean’s wishes, cause that is always what he’d done.

Cas would bend over backwards to ensure that Dean and every one of his needs was met. Even though in his ignorance, sometimes he’d choose wrong and make a mess of things, he’d always put somebody else first. Just like Dean.

It was the easiest choice Dean had ever made.

“Yes.” Dean threaded his fingers between Cas’ and something inside him clicked into place. “Show me everything.”

Cas' head lifted high, and his eyes flared with something that looked like pride, and love, and adoration, and too many things Dean could name. It made Dean feel too big for his own body. He was floating somewhere above the clouds, soaring higher and higher where air was too thin to breathe, and… And it was suddenly all too much.

Sweat poured out of his every pore, and he tugged the color of his shirt, fanning himself. Why was it so hot all of a sudden? They weren’t even in the sun. He was perspiring so hard it was a miracle there wasn’t a puddle of sweat underneath their clasped hands.

Beyond embarrassed, Dean made to pull out his gross hand, when Cas tightened his hold, not letting him pull away. The teasing smile that curved his lips was a lifeline pulling Dean back from the stratosphere and the verge of a total meltdown.  

“Everything? Are you sure, Dean?” Cas nodded at a place across the street. “'Cause right over there we got some nice grilled lizards.”

“Fuck off, Cas.” Laughing, his cheeks burning like hot coals, Dean dropped his forehead to Cas’ shoulder. And just like that, he could breathe again.

It was both exhilarating and run-to-the-hills kind of frightening how easy Cas could read him. A complete and utter acceptance of everything that was Dean. Although at times like this, when he effortlessly pulled him back to solid ground, Dean wondered if Cas saw parts of him even Dean didn’t know he had.

Exhilarating and frightening, that was Cas, through and through.

With a painful groan, Cas pressed a kiss to Dean’s hair and whispered in his ear. “Dean, for the love of all that is holy, please do not mention any words that in any way, form, or shape refer to coitus. Walking is hard enough at the moment, please don’t make me suffer more than I am at the moment.”

“That’s why I always said having bow legs is a blessing in disguise.” Dean quipped, and Cas’ shoulder shook with laughter. “Come on, let's see how many of those lizards you can eat.”

“There are no lizards, Dean. I was just…”

“I know. Cas. I know.” Dean kissed Cas’ shoulder, unable to meet his gaze, still a bit too raw. A bit too flayed open. “Let’s go, we’ve wasted enough time. There’s still so much to see.”

Before he could turn away, Cas lifted his chin with a soft but firm touch until he had no choice but to meet Cas’ eyes.

“You are many things, Dean Winchester, but never a waste of time.” Cas declared with such absolute certainty that nothing could contradict it. Just as the sky was blue and the grass was green, this, too, was truth at the most fundamental level.

Dean stood frozen, blinking at Cas, his arms aching to take Cas into his arms and kiss him until they both forgot how to breathe. He wanted to pour into Cas all that he was feeling cause speech failed him. Words were inadequate. How could he put into words that, in that moment, Cas had healed wounds on Dean’s soul he didn’t even know he had?

How would he even begin to explain that he was feeling like he was 16 again, experiencing for the first time the flutter of butterfly wings in his stomach, which made his head so dizzy and confused, until he couldn't tell if he was sick or levitating.

But they were surrounded by people, and Dean was one hundred percent certain that one kiss would not be enough. Cause this thing in his stomach… this was no fragile insect. This was a dragon spitting fire and clawing to get out and claim the maiden.

So he did the one thing he always did when he was overwhelmed and stunned speechless.

“Ugh,” He grumbled and rolled his eyes.

“Too much chick-flick nonsense? Got it.” Cas said softly as if he knew how on edge Dean was, yet a blind man could see how much he was fighting not to laugh. “Right, let’s see if there is something to stab or explode.”

“Now you’re talking.” Dean put on a serious face that crumbled as soon as Cas turned and started walking.

He must have looked like a lunatic, cause Dean floated after Cas, not really feeling the ground under his feet, or seeing the people around them.

His whole universe had condensed to the hand that held his, and the electric current that seemed to have been coughed in an endless loop, traveling from Cas to Dean and back again, fusing them on an atomic level.

A prayer was on the tip of his tongue to beg for this to last forever. But he didn’t do that anymore. Or ever again. So he remained silent, content to let Cas take him wherever he wanted to go.

Chapter Text

Time slowed to a crawl as Dean watched the cocktail shaker spin through the air like the human femur from that movie, 2001 Odyssey. Unlike the movie, its return to earth was inevitable, and Dean braced for impact.

The sunlight hit the banged-up surface of the metal cap and bounced off it straight into Dean’s left eye. Dean didn’t even blink. The risk of blindness was unimportant because there was no way he was gonna miss what was about to happen.

It sailed up and up, and in the corner of his eye, he saw that everyone sitting around the small beach bar collectively pulled back, holding their breaths. For a second, it seemed like it was never going to stop its flight to heaven, when it inevitably slammed into the bamboo roof with a dull sound.  

Right then, against Dean’s will, his eyes did squint, anticipating that the shaker was about to crack open, and they all would get doused in alcohol.

But it wasn’t to be.

The banged-up shaker proved indestructible. It bounced off the ceiling, straight into Chaiwat's hands, who promptly dropped it, to the thunderous cheer of the audience. With a victorious smile, Chaiwat bowed down to everyone.

“Thank you! Thank you!” He waved his hands around like a royal greeting his subjects.

“My man, that is one rare talent.” Dean clapped with everyone else, amazed that they had survived the juggling act unscathed.

Chaiwat scooped up the shaker from the floor and slammed it on the bar in front of Dean. His chin lifted to the high heavens, he declared, “I am Maradona.”

“Ha!” Dean laughed so hard he was afraid his spleen was going to rupture. “You are a hundred times better.”

Chaiwat opened the shaker and, with a flourish, poured the cocktail into a tall glass that looked like a champagne glass. No, it was a champagne glass. Now that he was able to breathe again, Dean took a second to really look at the bar and the strange assortment of glasses behind Chaiwat. There was everything from tea cups, miniature shots, to shoes, and- Was that a blue and yellow lobster?

It took Dean five minutes of talking with Chaiwat to realize the whole bar was a reflection of him. Small, quirky, over the top, and blending perfectly with its surroundings. Made out of bamboo, it curved around in a circle with a central structure of shelves filled with bottles, glasses, and ridiculous knick-knacks.

 “Now you try, and then I will allow you to praise me for how good I am. This will make your toes curl and your eyelashes cry. I know. I am an artist. One taste and you will see heaven.” Chaiwat declared.

“If it's heaven, then we need to ask the expert for his professional opinion.” Careful not to spill any, Dean slid the glass to his right, in front of Cas.

“A heaven expert?” Chaiwat eyed Cas up and down, his lips pursed in assessment, a hand on his hip. “With those strong shoulders, I bet you can,” he switched briefly to Thai with a teasing grin, then slipped back into English. “straight through heaven's gates.”

“Did he just?” Dean looked at Cas for translation, who was blushing a deep crimson red that could be seen from space.

“Yes.” Cas nodded, avoiding Dean's eyes.

“Hey, hey!” Dean sputtered. He grabbed Cas’ chair and pulled until they were pressed shoulder to hip. Glaring at Chaiwa, he put a hand around Cas. “Mine!”

For a second, Cas went stiff as a board, then melted with a little sigh-moan that had Dean’s chest puffing out. He had a sudden urge to beat his chest and drag Cas into a cave and have his way with him. The way Cas was squirming in his seat, like his pants were too tight, it seemed he would be on board for some savage role play.

“Ooooh,” Chaiwa pulled out a feathered fan and cooled himself with frenetic strokes. “Listen to that deep possessive growl. Mine! Damn, handsome, my panties are on fire. Watch out, ladies and gents, this one bites.”

“Fuck,” Dean muttered when more than a dozen faces turned their way, stupid smiles on their faces. “I walked right into that one.”

“You sure did, honey.” Chaiwa smacked Dean’s shoulder with a fan. “Don’t beat yourself up. I just couldn’t resist. It is so obvious you two are banging your brains out, and yet sitting here so far apart- I could build a pool between you two. Acting all "we two straight bros" on a vacation. Nah-uh. Not at my bar.”

Dean laughed. “Mercy, please. It’s new, ok. We are like…” Dean stuttered, blushing.

“Oh sweet Buddha, baby gays! How adorable.” Chaiwa sqweeked hands on his cheeks.

“Jesus. Save me, Cas.” Dean implored, but Cas ignored him, busy having an intimate moment with his drink

Eyes closed, he took a sip of the mysterious cocktail and moaned. “Sweet. Fruity. Note of coconut just underneath the rum. This is not bad. Not bad at all. Although a bit too much alcohol.”

“Of course,” Chaiwa batted his eyes at Cas, all innocent like. “A drunk tourist is a generous tourist. “A wink and another cocktail appeared in front of Dean. “Drink up.”

A girl across the bar called Chaiwa's name.

“No rest for the wicked,” He blew them a kiss and walked off to serve a bunch of college kids.

“He is…” Dean sat there, not really sure what had just happened.

“A whirlwind,” Cas said.

“More like a miniature, toy tornado. All the people on this island are just so… ”

“Happy,” Cas said.

“No-nonsense blunt,” Dean said.

Cas hummed and drank with his eyes half closed. “He does make an excellent cocktail.”

“Sure does.” Dean took a sip and smiled in appreciation of Chaiwa’s skill. He could feel the exact moment the alcohol reached his brain, and there was nothing subtle about it. “Cas, I think this will be one of those days we will have trouble remembering, and I am all here for it.”

“Last man standing wins?” The spark was back in Cas' eyes, and Dean’s heart soared.

“You are on.” Their glasses met with a soft chime, and the game was on.

***

“Wait, wait, are you serious? And what did he do?” A girl, whose name Dean could not remember, asked.

“He hanged there, upside down, and said in that deep voice - No, you can not put that there!” Lu said. Or was it Li? Dean wrecked his brain for his name, but they all sounded the same, so he tossed a mental coin and watched it land on Louis. “You’ll lose a finger, and then we will all have to answer to your wife!” Everybody burst into laughter.

Dean squinted, trying to remember what they were talking about, but that too had slipped his mental fingers. Ah, well, it wasn’t like the world depended on it. Besides, there was someone far more interesting sitting next to Dean who held all of his attention. And of course, the cold drink in Dean’s hand. Or was it his third? Huh, another thing he could not remember.

There was just something about this island that washed away all the worry and replaced it with lazy bliss. If he were to be totally honest, it was probably more to do with this bar and the fourth? Yeah, that is right, this was his fourth drink. The first one was when they joined the kids at the bar.

Such a quirky wooden place. Dean looked at all the objects that people who drank here left behind, and searched his pocket for something to add to the collection. Alas, he came up empty-handed. Maybe if he couldn’t leave anything, he could take something. Like this small ashtray in the shape of a coconut. Oh, no wait, that was a real coconut. Well, half of one. He should ask Cas if he could suggest something they could take to remember this place by.

No, Cas was predictable. It was too obvious that Cas would immediately go for that small feather behind the Chaiwa. What kind of bird had a feather with glitter?

Did Cas have shiny feathers like that? How come Dean had never seen them? Looming black shadows on the wall did not count. Did that mean they were black? No way. Cas’ whings were probably like golden, blue kind. Soft to the touch and sharp like blades for fighting. 

“Cas, are your wings ok? I mean, after empty?” Dean asked.

“Yes, Dean. They are perfectly fine.” The hand he had around Dean’s waist slipped under Dean’s shirt and was rubbing distracting circles on Dean’s hip. It was so soft and made his skin tingle. Made it hard to think.

“Ah… good. That’s really good.” Dean leaned into the touch, almost tipping over the stool.

Yeah, taking something was stupid. They need to leave a mark. Something that would last. Something that the kids of these kids would come and know that Dean and Castiel were here. Dean shook his head at the absurdity of that thought, chuckling quietly.

“Are you laughing at Bridget’s crepes recipe?” Cas whispered, his breath tickling softly his ear. Dean’s eyes fluttered closed as he focused on how slowly the goosebumps traveled down his neck, making his shoulder twitch. It was as if Cas was kissing his way down Dean’s body.

Huh, if Cas talked some more, how far down Dean’s body would his voice reach? Now there was an experiment Dean was more than willing to try out. And Sam thought he had no brain for science.

“Mmmm, it’s my favorite crap food. Tell me all about it.” Dean purred.

“Crap food?” Cas pulled away, and Dean’s eyes popped open at the loss.

“Where did you go?” Dean definitely did not sound like he was pouting.

Cas' mouth curled into a smile. “I’m right here. Where did you go?”

Dean pointed at the tree to their left. “I was thinking about carving a D+C on a coconut tree over there, and then you mentioned crap recipe.”

“I see.” Cas looked at the tree, and his head slowly tipped to the side, making Dean smile. He was so adorable when he was thinking hard. “I think it would be better if my initial is first?”

“Well, well, well, it seems everything they say about the ego of angels is true.” Dean looked down at the chair. “Just checking if you are actually sitting down or floating on a cloud of self-importance.”

“Contrary to popular beliefs, clouds are highly uncomfortable. They soak through your clothes and make everything damp and ugh.” Cas shuddered as if trying to get rid of the feeling. “I prefer a chair, thank you very much.”

“Huh… You learn something new every day. Still, my initial goes first.” Dean poked Cas’ ribs trying to make him jump, but it had no effect. It seemed angels weren’t ticklish. He should definitely check later, when they were alone, if Cas would have the same reaction if a tongue touched him there. For now, he should limit himself to poking some other places. Must find Cas’ weak spots.

“Dean, this bar looks like a popular meeting place. Which means many, many, many drunk people pass by that particular coconut tree every night. As you know, a high blood alcohol concentration makes them quite visually impaired.”

“Dude, you have no idea. One time, I- Wait, what does that have to do with your name going before me? Mine? What are you trying to say? If this is some kind of "confuse the enemy" tactic, it will never work on me, buddy.” Dean poked Cas’ shoulder and promptly forgot about his genius plan of finding Cas’ vulnerable point. Damn, it was so distractingly firm and muscly. Not fair.

Ignoring his touches, Cas continued. “I am trying to say that statistically there is a high probability that all who pass by that tree on their way to piss in the bushes would not read D+C, but DICK.”

Dean stared at Cas in confusion, blinking like an idiot, his inebriated brain too slow to process. When the realization finally hit him, he tipped his head back and laughed until his stomach hurt and his eyes watered.

“We should add an S at the end and make it two dicks.” Dean wiped away the tears and reached for the drink.

A slow, cocky grin spread across Cas' face. “I believe kids today call it frotting.”

Dean snorted so hard he inhaled half the cocktail and spilled the other half all over himself. 

“Jesus Cas, where did you hide this wild, kinky side all these years?”

Cas shrugged and passed Dean a napkin. “We were busy with other things.”

It was so painfully true, without a comment, Dean bumped Cas’ shoulder in solidarity and tried to clean his shirt, which only made it worse.

 “Ah shit man,” Dean waved at the guy who let him borrow the bird and wrecked his brain for a name. It was Spanish, or was it Swedish -  Mauro.. Mika.. Moo Moo? “Sorry, I ruined your shirt.”

“No worries. It’s not like valuable or anything. You can keep it.” The guy’s curls jumped all over the place as he happily waved his hands around, and Dean decided on Moo Moo.

“Thanks. I promise I’ll take really good care of it. The bird is really precious to my heart.”

“Dude, I won it at a carnival in Copenhagen. It’s the ugliest thing ever. But you totally slay it.” Moo Moo said.

“Slay?” Confused, Dean turned to Cas and whispered, “Cas, was that a compliment or should I challenge him to a duel and defend my honor?”

 “Judging by his aura, he is…” Cas brows drew together as he focused on Moo Moo, who was blissfully lighting his third joint. “…he is really happy.”

“If he is happy, I am happy. You hear that, Cas, I slay. SLAY. Told you not to offend my Nigel. He is a star. Look, he has a crown now.” Dean proudly showcased his wet flamingo when his face fell. “No, that’s a piece of lemon.”

“He sure is a king...” Cas said absentmindedly, lost to the mysteries of Moo Moo’s aura. 

Dean left him to it, but made sure their legs were pressed tightly together. But it wasn’t enough. Shit, why did Dean choose to wear pants? If he were in shorts, he’d now be feeling Cas' skin against his own. He should make a note for next time. Or cut these up. Maybe Chaiwa had some scissors. Nah, they were a gift. It would be rude to destroy them like that.

So generous. For Europeans, these guys were not bad at all. Giving them clothes, and a place to wash off the dirt, and to grope each other like two teenagers. Although they did interrupt that, which totally plummeted their rating from five to four stars.

Four wasn’t so bad. That’s why he had to tell Cas to buy them drinks. Several rounds should make them even. These cocktails were not bad. Even though he was skeptical at first, after the… Was this his fifth? Must be, cause there were a lot of tinny paper umbrellas between him and Cas. Each one with its unique ray of colors.

He should order some more. If he were lucky, he’d get an umbrella that matched Nigel’s royal pink color. Good thing they had money. Lots and lots of money. Life was easier and much nicer when you didn’t have to hustle. 

Well, Cas had money.

If Cas had money and Dean had none, and Cas was buying stuff for Dean, like this whole vacation - Did that make Dean, what you call them, one of those gold diggers or a trophy wife? No, that’s stupid, he had a penis, that made him what was it... right - Toy boy!

And Cas was his Sugar Daddy!

Dean snickered, imagining the look on Cas' face if, in the middle of orgasm, Dean screamed – Yes! Yes, Daddy harder!

Cas’ scandalized eyes would pop right out of his socket, never to be seen again. Or maybe he’d fuck Dean right into the next life. Here lies Dean “Boy Toy” Winchester, blessed to death by his Angel Sugar Daddy. What a way to go.

Wow, was Dean even ready for that? Dean rubbed his eyes as image after image of tangled bodies and sweat dripping from hard muscles as Cas slowly pressed against Dean’s- Abort! Abort! 

Ugh, too drunk to contemplate if little Cas would fit Dean’s… No. Scary big. No fit. Although the way Dean’s dick was twitching, it seemed it would quite like to find out if- 

No. Nonono. Too soon. Too scary. Back to Daddy shit where it was safe and fun, and Dean didn’t have to think if Cas would end up splitting him in half.

Yes. Cas could totally pull the Daddy look, especially with those fine lines that made his eyes all sophisticated, and worldly, and stuff. And the streaks of white in his hair that were like a siren call, always enticing Dean to trace them with his fingers, until they both fell asleep, all cuddled up and warm. And safe.

Huh, how come he never noticed before how much Cas had let time wrack his vessel? Was he that much in love with humanity that he wanted to experience it all? Even the worst side of aging. Like the morning back pain, or that annoying goddamn sharp twinge in his knee just before the rain. Although they were all quite recent symptoms. Now, when Dean thought about it, the pain started a few months after Cas disappeared. Which means… Clever bastard had been healing Dean secretly for god knows how many years. Dean rubbed his chest, his heart feeling a bit too big for his body.

Same old Cas, jolly do-gooder all the way through.

Well, not the same. A bit older. Rougher around the edges. Only his eyes had remained unchanged. The same blue. Even now, when he turned and looked at him like, Dean got hit with vertigo. Just like the first time they met, he had that same tightness in his belly as he went tumbling headfirst into Cas’ eyes.

“You are staring.” Cas smiled.

“Was I?” Dean’s eyebrows flew up in surprise. He didn’t even notice he was doing it.

How embarrassing. He was turning into one of those Hallmark movie heroines who's all heart eyes whenever her man passed by. Blushing, he averted his eyes, looking at people, the beach, the golden sand, and the fire hazard and screams of delight when Chaiwat lit several shots on fire and singed the roof. Shaking his head at the crazy man, he turned and came back to Cas.

Damn it. It was as if his eyes had a mind of their own and wanted only Cas.

“Don’t blame my eyes for liking your eyes.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Dean groaned and let his forehead fall on the bar. “Can’t believe I said that aloud.” He muttered to himself. “I think my brain just cringed in embarrassment and left the house.”

“Liking your eyes?” Cas nodded, thinking really hard, trying to decipher what Dean was talking about, which would be quite a feat since Dean himself had no clue. “Dean, if you ever go looking for an alternative profession, don’t go into poetry. Or literature. Or creative talking. Or haiku.” 

“Noted,” Dean snickered, gave Cas a playful shove. Nodding toward the crowd around them. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

Dean’s thoughts might have been drifting all over the place, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t noticed how everybody at the bar gravitated toward Cas. With a small smile on his face, he attentively listened to them and their stories. Not judging or anything, just a polite acceptance. As the hours passed, half the bar looked at Cas like he was their new best friend.

Cas glanced around, making sure nobody was paying attention to them, and whispered in Dean’s ear. “Tell you a secret?”

Oh, that warm breath that was making Dean tingle in all the naughty places.

“Always.” Dean breathed, struggling to focus.

“I stopped listening a while ago,” Cas said.

“What?” Dean reeled back in surprise. “But you’ve been at it for hours, engaging with all of them, smiling, and talking.”

“Yes, well, it would’ve been impolite to just turn and walk away after they gave us clothes. Look at Nathaniel, for example.” Cas tipped his head at the twenties-something blond guy who was balancing a full glass on his head while others cheered him.

The way he kept glancing at the girl beside him, it was quite obvious he was attempting some weird courting ritual. One look at her bored face and Dean cringed internally, embarrassed for the kid. Jesus, was Dean ever that young and stupid? Nah, he always had a good game with the ladies.

“His biggest tragedy in life is his mother. The trip was his one and only hope he’d grow a backbone and pursue an independent life away from her control. The bored one next to him is Mary from Portugal. She is addicted to plastic surgery. However, she'd never admit that. Even to herself. She is hoping that taking a sabbatical to a, how she called it, the backwater island in the middle of the garbage-filled Indian Ocean, would jumpstart a spark of spirituality that would cure her.”

“What she needs is therapy,” Dean said.

Subtly, Cas nodded to the other side of the bar.

“Franco over there feels trapped by family business. His father is the CEO of a pharmaceutical company that his grandfather founded. He secretly wants to be a landscaping designer. Dreams of being an apprentice to a Japanese master. Has no courage to say that to his father’s face and risk being disowned. Not because of the money. He craves love. “Cas plucked the umbrella from his glass, threw it on the bar, and knocked back the rest of his drink. “Mind numbingly boring, all of them.”  

Dean’s mouth parted, but no words came out. That was so out of character for Cas, Dean had no idea what to say.

Where was the angel who, with love and tears in his eyes, confessed he cared about the whole world? Rubbing his forehead, Dean tried not to let panic fly. If Cas was so broken that he didn’t care for anybody anymore, then the Empty thoroughly fucked him up. What kind of chance did Dean even have of making him better? Was it all for nothing?

“Are you happy?” Dean asked and held his breath, knowing he was about to be lied to.

“Hm.” Cas picked up one of the umbrellas that lay discarded on the bar and twirled it between his fingers. Whatever he was seeing in his mind's eye was definitely not a paper garnish. His eyebrows drew together, and his shoulder twitched, and Dean’s hand tightened around the glass until his knuckles turned white. Any second now, Cas was going to fly away, and that would be the end of it.

“Honestly…” Cas paused, and Dean held his breath. “I’m just sitting here waiting for all of this to disappear and…” Cas looked around, a haunted look in his eyes, Dean knew all too well.

“And wake up back in the hole,” Dean said softly.

Pressed tightly against him, Dean felt a shiver run through Cas. He stared at Dean as if trying to peel back the flesh and bone and see if Dean was fucking with him, which only made Dean shake his head in exhaustion. He had no energy left for lying and pretending he was perfectly fine.

Fine - an idiotic concept that he was starting to hate with passion.

“Yeah, me too, buddy. Me too.” Dean put an arm around Cas and held him tightly. “What a happy pair we make.”

 Cas’ whole body seemed to exhale, and he melted against Dean, head on his shoulder. “Maybe… Maybe it all happened too fast. It’s only been a month since... You know. A minute ago, we were trying to survive a haunted house. Vampires.”

“Ah, good times,” Dean said.

“And now we are drinking Piña coladas with ridiculous umbrellas, surrounded by people who never in their lives experienced true loss,” Cas said. There was no anger or bitterness in his voice. Just stating the facts.

“Made of fresh coconuts, don’t forget.” Dean kissed Cas' hair, knowing exactly how he felt.

That detached feeling had been the one constant in Dean’s life. Fighting for the world, but always feeling that he lived in some twilight zone apart from it. On the sides, always looking in, wondering what it felt like to have a job and a mortgage and membership for a bowling club, or golf, or whatever those people considered fun.

“They are really good. I can not believe Chaiwat actually jumped on a scooter to get us some fresh ones.” Cas slowly swirled a straw in his drink and watched the happy crowd.

“Not us, Cas. It’s all your shirt doing. I bet if you undo one more button, we’ll get drinks for free. It will be a worthy sacrifice.” Dean said, and Cas shook with laughter.

“It’s annoying how carefree they are,” Cas said.

“That’s what we fought for. So they can worry about the size of their boobs, and if mummy and daddy love them.” Dean said.

With content hum, Cas snuggled closer, fitting perfectly in the crook of Dean’s arm. Like he was made for that space, Dean thought with a smile.

“Maybe it will grow on us,” Cas gestured vaguely at the island and the sea before them. “This peaceful existence.”

This peaceful existence. Dean took a moment to really soak it all in. The sounds of waves under all the chatter, the gentle breeze that played with his hair, and the rays of sunlight coming through the canopy. It was as peaceful as it could get.

It called to him to relax, but his mind desperately clung to all his worries, afraid that if it let them go, it would whither up and die. Fight or flight - his brain’s default setting. This paradise and the kind of life it offered might as well be an alien planet. That is how far removed it was to him.

Jesus, how fucking sad was that.

Dean buried his nose in Cas' hair and closed his eyes, tuning out the world. Inhaling deeply, he focused on Cas’ smell, the softness of his hair, the strength of his arm around Dean until his mind settled and grew quiet.

 “I feel adrift, Cas. Like, there is nothing familiar to grab onto.” Dean said and held his breath.

He’d ripped off the bandage and braced himself for the worst. It would be so easy for Cas to rub salt on it and call him a whiny pussy. It wouldn’t be a lie. That's exactly what Dean believed. A failure. Every minute of every day.

Cas pulled back and looked at Dean with furrowed brows, probably trying to figure out if Dean had finally lost his mind. With all the compassion of an angel of the lord, Cas gently cupped Dean’s cheek and said, “We are both seriously fucked in the head.”

A surprised laugh burst out of Dean. Quickly, he buried his head in Cas' neck, trying to muffle the sound before it turned into something louder than laughter. Because he wasn’t really sure what the fuck these sounds were that were coming out of him. Pain, happiness, relief, the fricky ass butterflies, all jumbled up, making him sound like a tortured animal.

Cas grabbed the back of Dean’s neck, the tight hold the only thing keeping him whole. 

“We are both showing quite a few symptoms of PTSD,” Cas said, his voice light.

“Shit, Cas, we got so many. We are one too many flights over the cuckoo's nest.” Dean said, feeling lighter. “If a professional got their hands on us, we’d be locked away for life.”

“At least that’s familiar. We should grab onto that.” Cas laughed and took his drink. “To PTSD.”

Dean whipped the tears and clicked his glass against Cas’. “To the inevitable blow up. May it be exceptional.”

His eyes dancing, Cas leaned over and gently bit Dean’s ear, making him gasp in surprise, and whispered. “To angry sex when it blows over.”

“Fuck Cas,” Dean shivered, as all his blood drained south. “Drink up, we are leaving right this moment. I’m going to make you scr-” Somebody tugged Dean’s shirt, cutting him off.

Dean whirled around, ready to rip a new one to whomever dared to cockblock him for the third fucking time. Only there was nobody there.

“Excuse me.” A small voice said.

Dean looked down and stared confused at the Thai boy who couldn’t have been more than six.

“The f-” Dean broke off, remembering in the last moment that swearing wasn’t ok. “You lost, kid?”

“He will see you now.” The boy pulled Dean’s shirt as if to make him follow.

“Where are your parents, little man?” Dean looked around, but there were only young people well on their way to getting wasted. It seemed like the whole island had descended to this beach, determined to party like there was no tomorrow.

“Holy shit!” The guy close to Dean exclaimed, staring at the boy as if he had two heads. Dean tried to remember his name, but like everything else about these people, it slipped out of his mind. Li, Lu, Luo? It sounded French, that’s all he could remember.

“Hey, watch your mouth.” Dean glared, pointing at the child.

“Oh, right. Sorry, Krit, I wasn’t thinking.” He ruffled the kid's hair affectionately.

“That’s ok, Jacque. Chaiwat made me a swear jar. I’ll bring it right after this.” Krit said with a cocky grin that had Dean laughing. He turned to Dean, all serious. “We should hurry.”

“Hurry where?” Dean asked, glancing at Cas, who shrugged equally baffled.

Jacque leaned close and whispered, trying not to be overheard. “You are one lucky b- I mean one lucky dude. We’ve been here for two months, hoping to see him, and you just walk in and get an invitation. Just like that.” He snapped his fingers, lips pressed tight in annoyance.

“What are you talking about?’ Dean glanced at the boy, who was impatiently hopping from one foot to the other, looking adorable. “Who wants to see us?”

“Just you.” Krit pointed at Dean. “He said to find the big dumb American, and bring him quick, quick. Must go, quick.”

“Big dumb…”Dean muttered, having a sneaking suspicion who it was.

Beside him, Cas covered his mouth, trying to swallow laughter, his face turning red. At Dean’s withering glare, he doubled over laughing. Before Dean could send the kid packing, Jacque put a hand on Dean’s shoulder, a fake smile on his face.

“Of course he is coming.” Jacque must have seen his imminent death in Dean’s eyes because he quickly removed his hand and rushed to explain, “Listen, even if you don’t care, you have to go. The monk, he is, he is like a living legend to these people. A saint. Miracles and things happen around him. You understand.

“He only comes out of seclusion once or twice a year. If ever. All of us here,” He waved a hand encompassing all the people sitting at the bar. “We came hoping to see him and get his blessing. Two months, and you come, and in an hour he asks for you.”

Dean fought really hard not to laugh in the guy’s face. Complaining about two months in a tropical paradise. Fucking trust fund brats.

“Sure, you are all real, true believers. Good for you,” Dean said dryly, glancing around at others, all in varying states of drunkenness. “But I’ll pass.”

He had had enough of religious experiences to last him a lifetime. But before he could wave the kid away, Jacque grabbed his shoulder again, eyes imploring.

“Refusing would be the worst insult to the village. To the whole island.”

“I can live with that.” Dean shrugged him off. The guy was really starting to piss him off. Especially the sect vibe he was getting from him.   

“I think you should go.” Cas words stopped him.

“You too, Brutus?” Dean frowned, confused that Cas was sliding with the weirdo.

Cas subtly nodded at others, and Dean finally realized the conversations around them had died down and everybody was watching him with varying degrees of interest and envy.

“I knew you were special.” Chaiwat quipped, eyeing Dean. “Say hi to the monk for me. He helped me find my true passion.” He ran his hands lovingly over the bar.

“Seriously? A monk told you to open up a bar?” Dean snorted.

“Nah, he helped me leave my abusive ex. The bar had to wait for my broken arm to heal.” Chaiwat wiggled the fingers of his left hand at Dean.

“Oh,” Dean muttered, caught off guard.

The kid pulled Dean’s t-shirt again, and Cas pushed him from behind. Stubbornly digging in his feet, Dean mouthed to Cas. “I don’t want to go.”

“Don’t be a baby, a blessing from a saint is something even angels revere.” Cas pushed him with more force.

Glaring at Cas, he reluctantly started walking. “Stay out of trouble.” He yelled over his shoulder.

“No promises.” Cas laughed, waving.