Warnings: This chapter contains profanity, explicit sex (m/m pairing), and some discussion of sexual abuse.

This chapter is set during 5.03 - "Free To Be You and Me". I've borrowed some dialogue from the show, but most of it is my own. Also, I'm working on the assumption that all my readers know the show as well as I do, and I'll be skipping a lot of major plot points the better to focus on the parts where my story diverges from canon.

Happy reading, and please leave a review if you like it.

Dean had no idea why it seemed so important that Cas get laid before he died. (Okay, maybe he had an idea, but not one he was ready to admit to himself, let alone act on.) It was just … The poor guy had spent his whole extremely long life serving someone else's cause. He'd never had anything of his own, and Dean kind of knew how that felt. And then he'd rebelled, given up everything he'd ever known to help Dean, and got killed for it. And then he'd come back from the dead only to get stuck cleaning up Dean's mess. Again. So yeah, if this really was their last night on Earth, Dean wanted it to be a happy one for Cas. And Dean knew of nothing happier than sex.

Even after the disaster with Chastity the prostitute — and Dean was going to be laughing about that one for a long time — he wasn't ready to give up. He suggested they hit up a regular bar, see if they could find a non-professional who could give Cas a good time. Cas agreed a little reluctantly. Dean suspected he was just playing along to be polite, but he was sure that would change as soon as they found the right girl. Experienced, but not so aggressive that she'd scare the poor angel. Pretty, obviously. And open minded enough to roll with Cas's quirky personality.

Dean chose a place that was a little nicer than the dives he usually frequented, ordered two beers, and started looking for candidates.

Too young, probably a college girl.

Wedding ring, although the guy snuggled up to her in the booth wasn't wearing one, so a lot of drama there, not at all what Cas needed.

"Hey, what about her?"

Cas looked where Dean was subtly pointing. A brunette at the far end of the bar, dressed casually in tight jeans and a low cut blue sweater, sipping a pina colada with an air of quiet self confidence despite the fact that she was sitting alone.

"She's pretty," Dean prompted when Cas said nothing.

"She's beautiful," Cas said softly, and for a moment Dean thought they'd hit pay dirt, but then the angel continued. "Her soul is one of the purest I've ever seen. It shines almost as brightly as yours."

"Wait. What?" All thoughts of finding Cas a hook up momentarily fled Dean's mind. "You can see her soul? You can see my soul?"

Cas gave him that look of perfectly blank incomprehension that only Cas could give. "Of course, Dean. I'm an angel."

Dean's mouth opened and closed a few times without any words coming out. He'd often gotten the impression that Cas was staring into his soul, but he hadn't thought he was literally staring into his soul. Dean wasn't sure how he felt about that. Then the second part of what Cas had said finally registered, adding another layer to Dean's confusion. "What do you mean, her soul is almost as pure as mine? My soul is pretty damn far from pure, Cas."

A furrow appeared between Cas's eyes. "That's not true, Dean. Your soul is almost completely unblemished."

Dean stared into those blue eyes and saw nothing but sincerity. He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. This was not a conversation he wanted to have in a crowded bar or anywhere else for that matter. So he retreated back to their original topic of conversation. "So, do you find her attractive?"

"I told you. She's —"

"Yeah, yeah. Beautiful soul," Dean said dismissively. "But do you want her?"

"You're asking if I'm sexually stimulated by her?"

"Yes." How did the guy always find the single most awkward way to phrase things? It was a fucking superpower.

"No."

Dean deflated a little. He'd been sure they were getting somewhere. Still, he wasn't giving up yet. He pointed out a few more possibilities over the next half hour, taking care to steer Cas away from girls with boyfriends, girls with obvious daddy issues, and one girl who Dean wasn't entirely sure was a girl. (If he'd been alone, he might have investigated that question more thoroughly, but tonight was about Cas.) Cas gave each candidate the same impassive look, then shook his head as though he was being asked to identify suspects in a police line up.

Finally Dean decided that he was beating his head against a brick wall and switched tactics. "Okay. How about this? Have you ever, in your entire life or existence or whatever, been sexually attracted to anyone? Male, female, angel? Anything." At this point if Cas confessed that it was his deepest desire to fuck a chocolate cake, Dean would break into the nearest bakery.

Almost instantly, Cas began to blush.

"Ha!" Dean said triumphantly. "You have. Who was it?"

Cas hesitated, staring intently at the moisture condensing on his mostly undrunk beer.

"Come on, Cas," Dean coaxed. "If we're gonna get you de-virginized before dawn, we gotta know your type, so spill." He smirked at the unintentional innuendo, but of course Cas didn't notice it.

"Dean," Cas said, and it was the same way he'd said Dean's name right before he asked for the necklace that was Dean's most treasured possession apart from his car, or before he'd asked Dean to torture Alistair. It meant Dean wasn't going to like what Cas had to say. So it was a bit anticlimactic when all he said was, "Angels have no gender."

Dean blinked. "I know. Wait, are you saying there's no such thing as angel sex?"

"Angels have an equivalent act of intimacy, but it is not sex as you understand it. It is more … intellectual."

Well, that sounded just like angels. Take the fun out of everything, even sex. "Are you saying you can't …" God, this was awkward.

"In a human vessel I can engage in human intercourse although it was forbidden unless it was deemed essential to the mission."

Of fucking course it was. The more Dean learned about the inner workings of Heaven, the more he understood why Anna had chosen to become human despite how painful the process was. They could fucking order you to have sex? That was messed up.

"Well, you don't answer to those dickheads anymore, Cas," he said. "You can do what you want." And then he realized that in his eagerness to make Cas's last night on Earth a good one, he'd forgotten to ask one crucial question. "Do you want to have sex?"

Cas looked at him, one of those soul piercing stares that always made Dean feel naked. Even more so now that he knew Cas was actually seeing his soul. "Yes," Cas said.

Dean sensed a but.

"But I'm still an angel, Dean. I'm not aroused by mere physical stimulus. I require a deeper connection."

Oh. "You're saying you'd rather not have your first time be with a stranger." Who would? He really should have thought of that before.

"I'm saying the only person I want to be with in that way is you, Dean Winchester."

Dean stared at the angel, his mouth open, his brain refusing to process the words. "Me?" he finally managed to say, his voice sounding hoarse and strangled.

"Yes. You're the only person I've ever desired to be that close to." Cas looked away, his face still tinged pink with embarrassment. "But I understand that that is not an option."

"Why not?" Dean had no idea where the words were coming from because his brain was still not taking calls.

Cas frowned, tilting his head in that birdlike way of his. "Because my vessel is male."

"So?"

Cas continued to frown in confusion. "So I've noticed that you prefer female partners."

"No, I really don't."

Cas's eyes widened, and Dean couldn't help smirking a little. He'd actually managed to shock the guy. He'd said something that Castiel the mind reader didn't see coming.

"You have had intercourse with men?"

Cas said these words just as the bartender came by to see if they wanted another round. Dean waved her off and dropped his burning face into his hands. "Why do you always have to put things so bluntly?"

"Because metaphors and euphemisms are confusing and often lead to misunderstandings. Have you?"

"Been with guys? Yeah."

"But you have also been with women?"

"Yeah. I like both. In some ways I like guys better." After all, there were things you couldn't do with a girl. Not unless she was kinky and liked toys, and even then it wasn't the same. "But it gets complicated. A lot of the places I go, people aren't very open minded about that sort of thing. And the secrecy can be exciting, but it can also be stressful." And he had a harder time maintaining his emotional boundaries with guys. It was never just sex, and he always felt a little piece of himself die when they went their separate ways in the morning.

It occurred to him that that wouldn't be a problem tonight. They were probably going to actually die tomorrow, and even if they didn't, the world was on the fast track to Armageddon, so what was a little heartbreak? His dick took advantage of his brain's continued malfunction to make its opinion on the matter very clear. It had been a long time. Not since before Hell, so technically it had been decades.

Dean cleared his throat, shifted on the barstool to relieve some of the discomfort in his pants, and said for the second time that night, "So, do you want to have sex?"

"Yes," Cas said again, and this time he didn't sound embarrassed. He sounded aroused, his voice even deeper than usual if that was possible.

Dean put some money down next to his empty beer and practically dragged the angel back to the car.

~o0o~

During the drive back to the abandoned house where they were squatting, Cas put his hand on Dean's knee. He didn't caress or attempt to move higher. He just left it there, a warm weight, and Dean's whole body tingled from that simple touch. He wondered briefly if Cas was putting some angel mojo on him, but then he decided he didn't care. Whatever it was, it felt good.

They separated to get out of the car and didn't touch again until they were inside. As soon as Cas closed the door, Dean grabbed him and kissed him on the mouth. For a moment Cas went stiff and unresponsive. Dean gentled the kiss but didn't pull away completely, letting Cas acclimate to the unfamiliar sensations. Finally Cas gave a little sigh, his eyes fluttered closed, and his mouth began to move against Dean's. Emboldened, Dean snaked his tongue out to trace Cas's lips. Cas opened to him willingly, and Dean dived in.

Cas tasted like the air before a thunderstorm and also a little bit like beer. The combination of the two, the celestial and the human, melded into a new taste that was uniquely Cas. Dean stroked the roof of his mouth, and the angel gave a guttural moan that went straight to Dean's groin. He moved his hands from Cas's arms down to his hips and pulled their bodies flush against each other to get the pressure he craved. Cas too was already half hard, and as their erections brushed together through the layers of clothing, they groaned simultaneously.

Dean broke the kiss, gasping and lightheaded, and opened his eyes to look at Cas. The angel looked shell shocked and blissful at the same time, his lips wet and swollen, his pupils blown so wide that only a thin ring of blue showed. "You're sure about this?" Dean asked.

It seemed to take Cas a minute to remember how to speak, and it was one of the longest minutes of Dean's life, but finally he said, "Yes. Are you?"

"Oh, yeah." And he was. He knew that when it was over and the high wore off, all his fears and insecurities would come rushing back, but right now he was sure. He'd wanted this from the moment he laid eyes on the angel in that barn although he'd buried the desire deep, hiding it even from himself.

He kissed Cas again, a little rougher this time, catching the angel's lip between his teeth. Cas responded by grinding against Dean so hard that Dean almost fell over backwards.

"You sure you're a virgin?" Dean chuckled, nuzzling Cas's neck, enjoying the sandpaper feel of stubble under his lips. God, he'd missed that. "Cause you're really good at this."

"I have been observing humanity for millennia," Cas said, tiliting his head back to give Dean more access. "I picked up a few things."

Dean nipped at his pulse point, eliciting a satisfied hum. He did it again, sucking harder, and the hum turned to a mewl. "Fuck, you make the hottest noises," Dean mumbled. "I could come just listening to you."

He actually was dangerously close, and he figured if he was going to make this good for Cas, he should move things along. He pulled Cas towards the mattress in the corner, pushing the trench coat off his shoulders as they went. Cas got the idea and began divesting Dean of his clothes as well.

It became a race to see who could get the other completely naked first. Dean lost because he kept getting distracted by the newly discovered territory. He'd always thought Cas's vessel was hot, but damn. All that smooth, pale skin, and those compact, toned muscles. Jimmy must have been a jogger, or maybe he ran marathons for charity. That sounded like his kind of thing.

Dean stopped cold, his arousal receding abruptly as he realized what he'd just thought, and worse, what he'd almost done without thinking.

Cas noticed his sudden tension and stilled, one hand resting on Dean's bare chest, right over his racing heart. "Dean? What's wrong?"

"Cas, your vessel. Jimmy. Is he … awake in there?" Did I almost rape a guy while he was possessed?

"No, Dean. Jimmy's soul ascended to Heaven when the archangel killed me. Technically this isn't even the same body. It was given the same appearance. I assume so that you would recognize me. But every atom that made up Jimmy Novak was vaporized. This body was created from nothing."

Relief flooded through Dean.

Cas stepped closer, looking into Dean's eyes. "Dean, I am not a demon," he said in a low, dangerous voice. "I would never subject a human being to that kind of abuse. You should know that."

"I do." Dean rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm sorry. I just … had to be sure."

"I understand." Cas cupped Dean's cheek and lightly traced the line of bone under the skin. "It's just us here, Dean. No one else."

Dean looked at him sharply. Did he mean … How could he possibly know about that? But then Cas kissed him, soft and warm and full of some feeling that Dean wasn't ready to name, and he stopped worrying about what Cas did or didn't know about his past because Cas was right. Tonight was just for the two of them, and no one else — angel, demon, or ghost — belonged in this moment.

The momentary dip in Dean's enthusiasm worked to his advantage. It took the edge off and bought him time to make Cas's first experience a memorable one. Once they were free of all excess layers, he coaxed Cas down onto the bed and told him to wait there. Then he went to his duffel and got his bag of supplies. He decided to forgo the condom since he knew he was clean, and even if Cas hadn't been a virgin, angels probably couldn't catch STDs. He took out the bottle of lube and went back to the bed where Cas was lying on his back.

The angel stared up at Dean with perfect trust, seeming utterly unashamed of their mutual nakedness. Was that an angel thing, Dean wondered, or was it just Cas? Blue eyes flickered to the bottle in Dean's hand, but he didn't ask what it was, so maybe that was one of the things he'd picked up from his millennia of observation.

Dean knelt down on the mattress and hesitated a moment, considering the best way to do this. That was one of the things he liked about sex with other guys — so many options. He decided that taking Cas inside him was the way to go since it was unlikely to cause the angel any pain. It would require a little more participation from Cas, but Dean could guide him through it. And besides, Dean really preferred bottoming. It was something he couldn't get from women, so he took every opportunity to feel that sweet burning, filling sensation when he had a partner who was willing and able. It satisfied him in a way nothing else could. And since he had plenty of experience, he'd gotten really good at making it good for the guy inside him.

Cas was still watching him in silence. Dean realized he was probably making the angel nervous just sitting there, not giving any indication of what was coming next. "Okay," he said. "I'm gonna need a couple minutes to prep, but then I'm gonna make you feel so good. I promise." He leaned down and gave Cas a lingering kiss, but he made sure there was no contact down below. Didn't want Cas to blow his load just yet, and Dean remembered from his teenage years how sensitive a virginal dick was to any stimulation.

Cas accepted the kiss and even moaned into Dean's mouth, but he didn't demand more. He was letting Dean take the lead. It was a little odd seeing the angel in this submissive posture and remembering how much he used to intimidate Dean. He could still be intimidating when he wanted to be, and it was fucking hot, but this was pretty hot too, knowing that the man underneath him was an angel who could kill him with a touch, yet that powerful creature was surrendering himself to Dean completely.

Dean moved back and straddled Cas's knees. He squirted a generous amount of lube into his hand and reached back to begin working himself open. It really had been too long, and it hurt almost as bad as his first time.

"Dean?" Cas said, worry in his voice, and Dean realized the look on his face must be pretty alarming to someone who'd never done this the other way round.

"M' fine, Cas," he managed to grunt as he worked a second finger in. "Just takes a second to get used to the feeling." He managed to find his prostate and gave it a gentle poke, sighing as waves of pleasure soothed the pain. He didn't give it too much attention though. He was already hard and close again.

Finally he felt ready. He pulled his fingers out, slicked them with more lube, and took Cas's leaking member in hand. The angel moaned and arched into the touch, his hips rising off the bed. "Easy there, tiger," Dean said, grinning. "There's no rush."

"I disagree," Cas growled, bucking his hips again.

"Mmm. Impatient, are we?" Dean murmured seductively. He gave Cas one more stroke and then let go. Cas mewled in protest, thrusting into empty air. "Sh, sh, sh," Dean soothed him, laying a gentle hand on his chest. "I have something much better for you."

"Then fucking give it to me," Cas almost sobbed.

That nearly did it for Dean. Cas begging and swearing at the same time, two things he never did? That image was going to fuel Dean's fantasies for years to come if he lived that long. He managed to get himself under control and said, "I will, but you have to hold still."

Cas obeyed. Dean could definitely get used to that way too easily.

He moved so that his knees were on either side of Cas's hips and lined himself up. Cas moaned and bucked as Dean's wet entrance touched the sensitive head of his cock. "Still, Cas," Dean reminded him, moving him back into position. "You can move soon, but this part is tricky."

With a visible effort, Cas held still as Dean sank down on him. Dean didn't go as slow as he would have liked since he was afraid Cas wouldn't last. It hurt a little, but then the pain faded, and he was full of warmth and solidity. He felt grounded, anchored, safe. Sometimes he liked to do this after he'd already come so he could just bask in the feeling.

"Dean?" Cas said, his voice strained. "Can I move yet?"

Dean opened his eyes and saw Cas laid out beneath him, panting and flushed, hair sticking up in every direction. It was the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen. "Yeah," he said. "Go for it."

And Cas did. By sheer luck, (or maybe not, he was an angel after all) he managed to hit the sweet spot on his very first thrust, ripping a shout of pure ecstasy from Dean's lungs. They found a rhythm pretty quickly, and it lasted longer than Dean expected from a first time. (Again, the angel thing might have been a factor.) But all too soon he felt the end approaching, every nudge to his prostate pushing him closer to the edge.

Cas wasn't even touching him, too distracted by the flood of new sensations coursing through his vessel, but Dean was ready to come just from the feel of Cas inside him and the noises the angel was making. Obscene, porn worthy noises coming from the mouth of a celestial being. Cas was close too, losing the rhythm as his brain shorted out and pure instinct took over. Dean tried to hold on a little longer. It might be sappy, but he kind of wanted them to come together, to make it as intimate as possible. For Cas, he told himself. Just trying to make this good for Cas.

And then something strange happened. One of Cas's hands, which had been planted on Dean's thigh for leverage, came up and landed on Dean's shoulder, right on top of the handprint scar that Cas had put there a year ago when he dragged Dean back from Hell. The scar had faded. It was no longer raised and angry. It was just a faint pink shape, barely visible against the tan skin. The few women who'd seen it had mistook it for a birth mark, and in a way it was. Or rather, a rebirth mark. Dean had grown to like it, though he couldn't really articulate why. He hoped it never faded completely. It was a part of him, as meaningful in its way as his tattoo.

As soon as Cas touched it, a jolt went through Dean, like an electric shock minus the pain. Images flickered through his mind so fast he couldn't really see them, just blurs of color and vague impressions. He thought he glimpsed his own face. He looked down at Cas, mouth open to ask, "What the hell was that?", but the words died unspoken because Cas was glowing. Light poured from him, not blinding like the light Dean had seen when Anna's grace was restored, but warm, life giving light like summer sunshine or the friendly glow of a doorway promising safety at the end of a long, dark road. A flicker of movement in his peripheral vision made Dean turn his head, and he gasped. In the air beside Cas was the ghostly outline of a giant wing drawn in that same warm light.

Before Dean could process what he was seeing, Cas bucked under him one last time, and Dean was filled with liquid warmth and bliss. He came over Cas's stomach, his vision whiting out for a moment. When he opened his eyes, Cas was gazing up at him with a hazy expression Dean had never seen on the angel before. Castiel, the ever vigilant warrior of Heaven with his nail you to the wall stare, was so fucked out he could barely focus.

"Holy …" Dean breathed and left it at that because that was the only word for what had just happened. Holy. It was the closest thing to a religious experience that Dean had ever had.

He let Cas's softening cock slide out of him and gingerly rolled onto his back. The awful mattress felt soft as a cloud. With a tremendous effort, he turned his head to look at Cas. The angel was still a little glowy, but it might have been a trick of the light and Dean's sex drunk brain. "You okay?" he asked.

Cas turned to meet his eyes and smiled. Actually smiled. Not an amused smirk, but a full on deliriously happy grin. "Yes, Dean. Are you?"

Dean laughed. "Okay does not begin to cover it, Cas. I am fucking awesome."

"It was good, wasn't it?" Cas said, and he sounded a little bit proud of himself which was fucking adorable. "I believe I now understand the human preoccupation with this activity."

Dean smirked. "We can go again if you want. Just gimme twenty minutes to recharge."

"That's all right," Cas assured him though he looked tempted. "You should sleep. You'll need your strength tomorrow."

Dean was a little relieved. He wasn't entirely sure his ass could cash that check but it would have damn well tried. His eyes had drifted closed again when he suddenly felt soft lips brush against his. He dragged his eyelids up to half mast and saw Cas hovering over him, their noses almost touching.

"Thank you," the angel whispered. "I'm glad I got to feel that before I die."

"Me too," Dean said. "Best sex I ever had."

Cas blinked. "Really?"

"Hands down." When Cas frowned, Dean clarified, "That means yes."

Cas smiled, that open, unguarded grin again. "I'm glad I could provide you with such a pleasurable experience."

Dean would have rolled his eyes if it hadn't felt like his eyeballs were made of lead. "Don't say it like that, Cas. Makes it sound like …" He bit his tongue. No way was he gonna call Cas a whore even indirectly. Not after that. "Never mind," he said. "C'mere." He pulled Cas down for one more kiss.

When they broke apart, Cas rested his head on Dean's chest and Dean wrapped an arm around him as though it was the most natural thing in the world. It had been a really, really long time since he'd done this, fallen asleep with a warm body pressed against him, a male body.

Just before he slipped under entirely, he thought he felt something soft and heavy settle over him. Funny, he thought. I didn't think we had any blankets. The heavy thing tickled like it was covered in feathers.

Feathers. There was something he wanted to ask Cas, something about feathers. No … something about wings. Before he could remember what it was, he fell asleep.

~o0o~

Dean woke up feeling better than he had in months, maybe years. Hell, maybe the last time he'd felt this warm and safe his mother had been downstairs making him pancakes.

It took him a minute to line up his memories of the night before, but when the last one slid into place, he felt a goofy smile spread over his face. He had fucked Cas. Or rather, Cas had fucked him. And it had been awesome, better than he could ever have imagined, and when it was over Cas had laid in Dean's arms like they were …

Like they were ordinary lovers instead of a hunter and a fallen angel on a suicide mission to trap an archangel on the off chance that he might know where God was so they could ask the Big Daddy to please stop his bratty kids from destroying the world. Some of the warm haze receded from Dean's brain, and he opened his eyes.

Cas was watching him.

Dean nearly jumped out of his skin. The angel wasn't just watching him. His face was about an inch away from Dean's, his eyes wide open, and he was studying Dean as though he might be tested on the precise location of every freckle. "Fuck, Cas," Dean croaked when he could breathe again. "That's creepy."

"Sorry," Cas said, moving away.

Dean instantly missed the warmth. He was naked and this house was drafty. "S' okay," he said, reaching out and pulling Cas back to him. "You just startled me. But hey, a heart attack first thing in the morning is healthy. Gets the blood pumping."

Cas frowned, and Dean just knew he was about to make some overly literal remark about heart attacks, so he shut the angel up with a kiss. He kept his mouth closed to spare Cas his morning breath, just a short, almost chaste press of lips. The key word being "almost" because they were both naked, and Dean had a minor case of morning wood which became a little less minor when it brushed against Cas's leg.

"What time is it?" he mumbled, moving to kiss Cas's neck.

"Eight seventeen," Cas said without hesitation. "Visiting hours at the hospital begin at nine thirty, but I presume you want to eat first."

"Yeah. No way I'm facing a pissed off archangel on an empty stomach." Dean did some quick math in his head. Then his dick overrode his calculations and insisted that yes, there damn well was time, and if he wanted to argue, it could make the rest of the morning very unpleasant for him. "Still, we got more than an hour. Do you wanna …" He let his wandering fingers finish the question for him.

Cas responded with a groan and an enthusiastic nod, already rolling on top of Dean.

Dean noticed that there was no dried, flaking mess on Cas's stomach or between his own legs. Cas must have cleaned them both up after Dean fell asleep. Dean wondered if he'd used the wipes in the duffel or just zapped him clean with angel mojo. He wondered which was creepier. Then he stopped wondering anything because Cas was rutting against him like there was no tomorrow (which for them there might not be) and fuck that felt good.

"You want …" Dean struggled to string a coherent sentence together. "You want to be inside me again?"

Cas stopped moving to look at him. "Is that all right?" he asked, suddenly unsure of himself. "I don't want to cause you discomfort."

"It's fine, Cas," Dean assured him. "It's actually easier this soon after. The muscles haven't completely contracted yet." He looked around. "Where'd the lube end up?"

"I put it back in your bag. I'll get it." Cas climbed off Dean and walked over to the bag, and that's when Dean saw them. They were folded tightly against Cas's shoulders, but even so they were huge. He'd been running his hands all over Cas. How had he not felt them? Cas turned back around, the lube bottle in his hand, and saw the look on Dean's face. "What?" he asked.

"You, um … You have wings."

Cas stared at him just as he had when Dean said, You can see my soul? And just as then, he replied in his perplexed, isn't-this-obvious voice, "Of course, Dean. I'm an angel."

"Yeah, but I couldn't see them before. Except the shadows on the wall. They're, like, actual wings. With feathers."

Cas's eyes widened. "You can see them?" He looked over his shoulder as though to check if he could see them.

Dean nodded. "I think I felt them last night too. I thought it was a blanket."

"Yes, I made them more corporeal so I could use them to keep you warm, but you shouldn't be able to see them now. They're not in this plane of existence."

To demonstrate Cas unfolded the right wing slightly and touched it, but his vessel's fingers passed right through the feathers and the muscle beneath as though it was a hologram or a mirage. Dean blinked, but the wings didn't waver or vanish. They looked real. It was more like Cas's hand was the ghostly part of him.

"Dean," Cas said, coming to sit on the bed again. "When did you first see them?"

Dean tore his eyes away from the wings and looked at the angel's worried face. "Is this bad?" He didn't see how it could be. They were beautiful, strong and graceful, the feathers a deep black that shone blue and purple as it caught the light. They weren't like any bird Dean had ever seen. They were … They were Cas. They were so obviously a part of him that Dean didn't understand how he'd missed them before.

Cas shook his head, but what he said was, "I don't know. Just tell me when it started."

"Just now … No …" Dean hesitated, a memory swimming up out of the orgasmic fog that had swallowed up part of last night. "I saw them while we were …" He made a vague gesture.

"Having sex?" Cas supplied.

"Yeah. You touched my shoulder, right here." He pointed to the handprint scar. "And I felt this shock, and then I looked at you, and you were … glowing."

"And you could see my wings?"

"Yeah, but they didn't look like that. They were made of light." God, it sounded stupid when he said it out loud. "What's going on, Cas?"

"I don't know." Cas reached out to touch Dean's shoulder, then stopped. "May I?" he asked.

It seemed a little strange that he would ask permission for such a simple touch considering what they'd been doing not five minutes ago, but the atmosphere in the room had definitely changed.

Dean nodded. As Cas's hand came to rest on his shoulder, lining up perfectly with the scar, he braced himself for another shock, but nothing happened. Well, not exactly nothing. Dean's skin warmed under the touch, and his dick, which had gotten bored with all this talking, perked up again. But nothing supernatural happened.

"Oh," Cas said softly.

"Good oh or bad oh?"

"I'm not sure, but I know what happened. This scar was created by my grace, and there's still a trace of my power in it. When we were intimate, the remnant of grace in you sensed me and tried to rejoin its source. It created a connection which is still active. You can see my wings, Dean, because I can see my wings, and you are connected to me."

"Oh." That didn't sound too bad. He'd been prepared for much worse. "Is that … permanent?"

"No. The connection should fade in time provided we don't do anything to make it stronger."

Something in Dean's chest twisted painfully. "So no more sex."

"It wouldn't be advisable. I don't know what other side effects it might have." Cas looked as disappointed as Dean felt.

Dean remembered that he was naked, and that was suddenly awkward because his dick hadn't gotten the no sex memo and was still waiting impatiently for the rutting to start up again. "I should, um … I should get dressed." He dragged his eyes slowly over Cas's body, enjoying the view since this was probably the last time he'd get to see it in all its glory. Then he said reluctantly, "And so should you."

They reclaimed their scattered clothes in silence. Covering up made Dean feel better and worse at the same time. He felt less vulnerable, but he also felt less free. He'd let his guard down for a moment, and now he was paying the price.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Cas said as he shrugged into his trench coat. Dean noticed that his wings passed right through the fabric and out the other side without making so much as a wrinkle.

"It's not your fault, Cas," he sighed, buttoning up his jeans. "You didn't know this would happen."

"But I should have known there were risks. There are reasons why relations between humans and angels are forbidden."

"Bullshit. With any other human it would have been fine. You just happened to pick the one human who has your grace fucking implanted under his skin." Dean's voice rose with every word, and he had no idea who he was angry at. Cas, himself, God? Why did the universe keep giving him good things only to take them away? He took a calming breath. "It's nobody's fault, Cas," he said more quietly. "And I don't regret it. Can't we just agree that it was some of the best sex in the history of the universe and move on?"

Cas smiled, but it was a little sad. "It was very good," he said, "although I have no basis for comparison. And now I never will."

The last part was said so quietly that Dean felt he could legitimately pretend not to have heard it. "No regrets?" he asked.

Cas gave him a soul piercing stare. "No regrets," he echoed. And Dean believed him.

"Good. Then let's go trap ourselves an archangel."

As they walked to the car, Dean allowed himself to admire the way the sunlight shone on Cas's wings. At least until Cas caught him staring and gave him a puzzled look.

"Sorry," he muttered. "It's just …"

Oh, fuck it. He was screwed no matter what. He'd been screwed from the moment he laid eyes on the angel in his rumpled suit and backwards tie with his damn soft lips and perpetual bed hair and soul gazing blue eyes. Actually, he'd probably been screwed from the moment Cas lifted him out of hell to save a world that seemed determined to end one way or another. So he might as well enjoy what he had while he had it.

He looked the angel in the eyes and said, "Your wings are fucking gorgeous."

Cas blushed.

~o0o~

Raphael's wings were white tinged with gray at the tip of each feather. He spread them as wide as he could inside the circle of holy fire.

Cas spread his wings too. They were smaller than the archangel's, but he was free to stretch them to their full span.

Judging by the impotent fury in Raphael's dark eyes, Cas had won some sort of angelic pissing contest, and Dean felt irrationally proud.

"Where is he?" Cas growled, stalking closer to the flames. This morning he'd seemed almost human despite the giant wings growing out of his back. Now he was all angel.

"You mean God?" Raphael scoffed. "Haven't you heard Castiel? He's dead."

A cold fist clenched around Dean's heart. Not because of the words. He was far from God's biggest fan. Hell, if they ever found the guy, Dean kind of wanted to give him a kick in the teeth. But the look on Cas's face … Dean had seen that look in the mirror the day he burned his dad's body. To Cas God wasn't an abstract concept. It was his father.

"You're lying," Cas said, but he didn't sound sure.

"Am I?" Raphael's tone was almost bored, but Dean heard the anger seething underneath. He knew about that too. Pretend you don't care and maybe you'll even fool yourself. Apparently even archangels had daddy issues. "Do you remember the twentieth century?" Raphael pressed, sensing that he was getting under Cas's skin. "Think the twenty first is going any better? Would God have allowed any of that to happen if he was alive?"

Dean felt Cas relax subtly. Raphael had overplayed his hand. He'd had Cas scared for a minute, but he was just guessing, just playing the odds like any clueless human.

And that just eats you alive, doesn't it? Dean thought as he looked at the archangel's arrogant face. You're in the same boat as us apes, muddling through with more questions than answers, and you hate it because you need to believe you're better than us.

"So what?" he said aloud. "God dies and makes you boss, and you decide to start the fucking apocalypse? Daddy would be so proud."

Raphael turned his cold gaze on Dean, and Dean had to fight the urge to take a step back. Cas's penetrating stares made Dean uncomfortable, but mostly because Cas looked at Dean like he was looking at something priceless and pure and wonderful, and that fucking confused Dean who knew for a fact that he was none of those things. Raphael looked at Dean like he was a bug that Raphael would happily squash under his foot if only the damn thing would hold still.

"Daddy," the archangel said, the word dripping sarcasm, "abandoned us. He charged us with protecting you, you ungrateful, self destructive bottomless pits of sin and depravity, but he left no instructions on how to do that. So we tried our best. For thousands of years we tried, and now we're tired. We want our reward, and we will make paradise on Earth even if we have to kill every stinking human to do it."

Dean smirked. "Really? Daddy ran off and left you to take care of your smelly, whiny baby brother all on your own? Join the club."

"You think this is funny?!" Raphael thundered. His voice caused an actual rumble of thunder so loud that all the windows shattered.

Instantly, dark wings wrapped around Dean, shielding him from the flying glass. The wings were no longer insubstantial. Dean felt them brush the back of his neck, soft and warm as a kiss. He looked at Cas who was standing nose to nose with him, and for a moment he thought the angel was going to actually kiss him. Then Cas folded his wings and turned to face Raphael again.

"If God is dead," he said, "who brought me back?"

Raphael looked from Cas to Dean and back, his expression calculating. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe Lucifer raised you?"

"No," Cas said, but it was more a protest than a denial.

"Think about it." Raphael's smile was predatory. He knew he'd found a weak spot. "How many of Heaven's laws have you broken since you came back? How deeply have you been corrupted by humanity?" His eyes flickered pointedly to Dean again. "Why would God resurrect you only to let you debase yourself? But Lucifer? He needs all the fallen angels he can get."

Cas bowed his head, his wings drooping, and in that moment Dean hated Raphael. More than he hated Zachariah or Michael or even Lucifer. He remembered how Cas had smiled at him last night, open and joyful. How dare that dick make Cas ashamed of something that had made him so happy?

"Come on, Cas," he said, lightly touching the angel's arm. "This is pointless. He doesn't know anything. Let's go."

Cas let Dean steer him towards the door, but Raphael's voice brought him up short.

"Castiel, I'm warning you. Don't leave me trapped here. When I get out, I will find you, and I'll make you pay."

Cas straightened and turned to look his brother in the eye. "Maybe one day," he said with a smirk, "but today you're my little bitch." Then he walked away.

Dean decided it would be a crime to spoil an exit line like that. Plus his brain had kind of short circuited from the overwhelming sexiness of it. So he followed Cas in silence. But he felt Raphael's cold, calculating stare boring into the back of his head, and he knew this was far from over.

~o0o~

Dean had no destination in mind. He just drove, letting the familiar rumble of the engine soothe his headache. It would have been peaceful except that Cas was brooding. It wouldn't have been obvious to anyone who didn't know him. He was just sitting there in the passenger seat, staring out the window with his usual slightly pensive expression, but Dean could feel the misery and frustration coming off him in waves.

"You okay?" Dean asked finally, giving him an opening to talk about it if he wanted to and an easy out if he'd rather not.

Cas said nothing.

Dean sighed. "Look, I'll be the first to tell you this quest of yours is insane, but I get it. He's your dad."

Cas shifted to look at Dean. His wings were half embedded in the upholstery, and Dean had to avoid looking at them because his brain couldn't decide which was real, the wings or the seat, and it was making his headache worse. "And if he is dead?" Cas said, and Dean heard real fear in his voice.

"Do you think he is?"

"I …" Cas hesitated, but then he shook his head firmly. "No."

"Then go find him."

"What about you?"

"What about me? I'll be fine. Besides, it's probably better if we go our separate ways for a while. Just until this thing" — he gestured between them — "wears off."

Cas nodded, and Dean half expected him to disappear instantly, but he didn't. He went back to staring out the window, and Dean knew he was thinking about the other thing Raphael had said.

"You're not corrupted Cas," Dean said quietly. "Having feelings isn't a crime."

"It is for an angel," Cas said bitterly.

"Well, it shouldn't be." Dean's hands clenched on the wheel. God, he hated talking about stuff like this. It was impossible not to sound like a damn Hallmark movie. But he couldn't let Cas go away thinking that what they'd done was wrong, perverted. Dean had been told that time and again, by his dad, his first boyfriend, total strangers. He'd come very close to believing it. He wouldn't let anyone do that to Cas. "Cas, you said you could see my soul."

Cas frowned, confused by the apparent non-sequiter. "Yes."

"Well, I think I saw yours too. Last night."

Cas smiled, but it was an indulgent smile. "Dean, angels don't have souls."

"I know, but whatever the equivalent is. Your grace or your essence or whatever. When we connected, you glowed with this light, and it was …" It was perfect? It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen? It was like coming home? "It was good," Dean finished lamely. "It was pure. If that was the real you, then you are good, Cas. You are the best angel I've ever met."

Cas was quiet for a moment. Then he abruptly slid along the seat and pressed a kiss to Dean's cheek. "Thank you," he whispered. "For everything." Then he spread his wings and vanished.

Dean drove on, glad that no one could see the goofy smile on his face. He had no idea where he was going, but he knew that he would see Cas again, and somehow that made everything all right.