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A Dean/Castiel fic.

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Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Supernatural.

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A/N: This fic takes place after "Point of No Return", just one of my many ideas of how Cas could come back.

Yeah ... I'm not in a real chatty mood, so lets just get on with the story, shall we?

As always, please read and review, I live for feedback!

The phone buzzed on the nightstand between the two beds, waking Dean from his slumber. He groaned into his pillow, kicking blindly at the blankets strewn about his feet.

"Sam!" he moaned gravelly, his toes curling as his body stretched in protest at the early wakening. After another buzz he remembered that Sam had wanted to get an early start at the coroner's to figure out if their latest job was a werewolf like they thought. "Dammit." Dean groped behind him for the phone, cracking his knuckle painfully on the table before he snatched it up off the table.

An overly cheerful bird squawked outside the window of the motel room, and he resisted the urge to whip out his gun and smoke the damned thing. Dean held the phone to his ear while wiping the sleep out of his eyes. "What?" he spoke.

He heard a sound on the other end of the line - as though someone had opened their mouth to speak but lost the sound mid-breath.

"If you're gonna call me this early in the friggin' morning, you'd better damn well have something to day," Dean growled at whoever was on the other end.

A gruff voice answered, "Dean?"

Dean sat upright in his bed, gripping the phone tighter without noticing. "Cas? That you?"

There was another long pause before the familiar voice asked, "Where are you?"

Dean rattled off the location quickly and expected the angel to appear before him straight away. When he didn't Dean got worried. "Cas?" he said into the phone, his voice full off concern, but then he heard that familiar rustle of wings, and disconnected the call, lowering his phone slowly and pausing before turning around on the bed.

The angel stood by the door, looking down at Dean with intense eyes.

"You alri-" he trailed off as he noticed that the angel's chest was bared; his shirt was still open and there was dried blood smeared across his skin where the sigil had once been. Dean cleared his throat and tried again. "Are you alright?"

Castiel looked Dean up and down, remaining where he was. "You are still you," he observed.

Dean nodded, standing up. He was acutely aware of the fact that he had gone to sleep wearing only his jeans, but he didn't attempt to find his discarded shirt. "Yeah." he replied simply.

"You didn't say yes to Michael?" Castiel asked, even though the answer was staring him in the face.

Dean sighed, scratching the back of his neck. "It came pretty close, but uh ... no, I didn't. We got out - me and Sam - before he got there, and I iced Zachariah for good, but ... Adam's gone, and we don't know where he is," he recounted. "We didn't know where either of you were, or if you were okay. It's been weeks, man, what happened?"

Castiel took a few steps into the room but then stopped. "I woke up like this a few minutes ago," he explained. "I was in a field somewhere, I don't know how I got there, or how long I was there."

Dean nodded, looking away from the semi-exposed angel and down at his phone. A thought struck him. "How did you know to call me?" he wondered.

Castiel looked uncomfortable, planting his gaze on his feet. "It was ... habit. I just hit your number on the speed dial."

Dean nodded again, feeling better and worse at the same time. He shuffled his feet, looking around the room for a while before letting himself glance at the angel again. "You, uh, you should get cleaned up," Dean spoke. "The bathroom's free, if you want."

Castiel considered it for a moment before making his way to the bathroom in silence.

Dean heard Castiel pull a towel off the rod and fidgeted in place, torn between being happy that Castiel was alive and well, and worrying about the last time the angel had been alone with him. Checking his watch, he figured it would be at least an hour and a half before Sam would be back. Dean finally tuned into his state of undress and grabbed a grey shirt from his bag, sliding it on over his head while he waited for the angel.

A minute passed and he still hadn't heard any other sounds from the bathroom, so he approached the room slowly. "Cas? You alright in there?"

"It isn't working very well," the angel answered, and Dean poked his head around the door. What he saw made him gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing. Castiel had removed his upper-body clothing, leaving him in just his suit pants. The leather belt against the angel's hips was doing things to Dean that made him blush.

Dean pushed aside the familiar feelings, seeing what the problem was. "Uh, you need to get it wet, Cas," Dean explained.

Castiel looked down at the useless item in his hands, sighing deeply. "Right." The angel glanced at Dean in the mirror, his eyes moving from him to the towel as though he were in a daze.

Dean hesitated a moment before stepping the rest of the way into the room, walking up beside him and taking the towel, causing the angel to turn towards him. He drenched it with water from the tap, rang it out and steeled himself before pressing it to the angel's skin, waiting for a reaction.

Castiel stood perfectly still, eyeing Dean with a foreign look in his eyes ... but he didn't ask the hunter to stop, nor did he attempt to take the towel away.

Dean could feel his skin tingling with every swipe of the towel, and he had to actively work to force his jaw shut so that he didn't start panting aloud. He felt the muscles in Castiel's stomach twitch and tighten when the towel swooped towards his navel but Dean kept going, clearing away all of the blood. Once he was finished he pulled the towel away, turning to rinse the blood out in the sink when something caught his eye. "Cas, what ...?" Without a conscious forethought he brought his hand up to trace the lighter, slightly bumpy skin.

Castiel spoke in a softer voice than Dean had ever heard him use. "It will fade, I think."

Dean nodded, unable to pull his fingers away from the scar. He wasn't aware of how long he stood there like that, but sometime later Castiel broke the heated silence.

"What changed your mind?"

Dean snapped his head up, feeling light-headed for a moment. "What?" he asked, his lips numb. Dean's hand remained in place, as though some unseen force was keeping him glued to the angel.

Castiel repeated, "What changed your mind?" He seemed almost oblivious to the effect he was having on Dean.

"It was ... I didn't ... couldn't let Sammy down," Dean managed to say, but his eyes were focused on his pulsing fingertips. "Cas, are you ... vibrating?" he asked, wondering if he was imagining things.

Castiel tilted his head. "I believe so."

Dean gulped again. "Uh, any particular reason?"

Castiel replied, "There is one."

Dean looked up into the blue eyes he'd gone so long without seeing. "... And?"

Castiel seemed to be thinking of something, and not for the first time Dean wished he could read the angel's mind as well as Castiel read his. Another moment passed and then quicker than he could have imagined - and he had imagined it before, always in the back of his mind - the angel had removed Dean's shirt. Before Dean could protest, or react in any way, Castiel brought his hand up to Dean's left shoulder, his palm sliding over the handprint.

Dean gasped, his vision going white for a moment as a shockwave ran through him.

"When I pulled you from Hell, this mark became the only tactile proof of our brief but lasting bond," Castiel told him. "But that's changed now."

Dean could barely focus on the words Castiel was saying, let alone respond to them.

"When you carved the sigil into this flesh, you made your own mark on me; connected us in a whole new way. This," he said, referring to his humming body, "is a side-effect of that connection. The sensations you are feeling right now are a portion of what I have felt since the moment you laid your hands on me."

Dean struggled to focus his thoughts, trying to wrap his head around what the angel was saying. "Cas, please ... stop ..." he choked out, his body heating up more with every second that passed. Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, Castiel removed his hand from Dean's arm and everything cut off immediately ... all the feelings, all the sensations were gone. Dean slouched in a huff, his heart pounding a-mile-a-minute and his breaths coming out in shaky, uneven pants. He was completely thrown for a loop.

"What the hell?" Dean rasped, bending over to grip his knees and hold himself upright. He then became much more aware of just what Castiel had done to him. His jeans bulged noticeably and the strain was becoming more than a little painful.

"I apologize," Castiel stated. "I didn't realize this would be quite so painful for you."

Dean started piecing together everything Castiel had told him, putting it all together in his mind. If I was only feeling a fraction of what he did, and it did this to me, what did it do to him? And why didn't he pull away? "You felt that?" Dean asked him.

Castiel nodded.

"Exactly what I felt?" Dean clarified, not wanting to take a chance and end up being completely wrong, not to mention embarrassed.

"To a much greater extent, but yes," Castiel answered. "Exactly the same base feeling."

Dean licked his dry lips, standing up to his full height in the motel bathroom. "Cas ... do you know what that feeling is?"

Castiel regarded the hunter, knowing why he was asking. "I have never felt it like this before, but yes, Dean. I understand what the feeling is. Arousal. Lust. Passion. Affection. Infatuation. It may be new to me, but I find the sensations to be quite ... pleasant."

Dean couldn't believe what Castiel was telling him. He'd wondered about it for so long, but he'd never actually let himself believe the angel could actually feel something similar for him ... especially after the 'fight' they'd had before he had disappeared.

Dean shoved his hands in pockets for something to do, looking back at the angel. "Cas, before I ask you what I want to ask, I want to say something first."

Castiel nodded for Dean to continue.

With a sigh he began. "I'm sorry. Sorry that I made you lose faith in me, sorry that it took so long for me to snap out of it ... I'm sorry I banished you. I mean, you were right. You rebelled for ... me and Sam, and I let your down. You had every right to kick my ass."

Castiel regarded him as he finished. "May I interject before you ask your question?"

Dean nodded his assent.

"Firstly, I'm sorry as well. I should not have reacted the way I did. In my anger I could have done permanent damage to you, even killed you, and for that I am sorry. It won't happen again," Castiel told him.

Dean pursed his lips, bobbing his head.

"But," Castiel continued, "let me make one thing perfectly clear: I didn't rebel for you and Sam. I didn't rebel for Sam, Bobby, or any other human being but the one standing right in front of me. I rebelled for you, Dean. Only you."

Dean gulped for the third time, feeling his heart beating madly against his ribs, as though it were trying to reach out for Castiel's.

"You may ask your question now," Castiel informed him.

Dean was nervous, but he told himself there was no going back now. This time he invaded the angel's personal space, stepping up until there were only a few inches between them. "Do you completely understand what all this means? What's going to happen if you don't turn around and walk away - well, fly away? Do you know what's going to happen between us, what these feelings mean?"

Castiel nodded. "I am aware."

For a moment Dean was frozen. The reality of the situation came pouring down on him. Before today his feelings had remained buried below the surface, completely ignored but for his dreams. Whenever he had allowed himself to think of this moment, his thoughts had been filled with homophobic worries, or how badly Castiel would react to the whole thing. Never could he have believed that the angel would be so calm and welcoming about the whole thing. He had worried that he would feel differently once everything was out in the open. He had worried that addressing his feeling for another male - human or angelic - would make him feel gay ... but he felt exactly the same, with one notable exception: he could feel the beginnings of something oddly resembling happiness swelling throughout his body, making him start to feel whole again.

"Okay then," Dean spoke, gazing into Castiel's blue eyes. "As long as we're both clear."

A breath, and then he removed the space between them, tilting his head and blinking once before sealing his lips over Castiel's mouth. Dean felt the smallest of tingles where their lips connected, and decided to experiment a bit. He parted his mouth ever so slightly and brought a hand up between them, dragging a finger along the edge of the scar.

Castiel hissed in response, not breaking contact with Dean, who could feel a low hum coming from within the angel. Castiel gripped Dean's hip with one hand, pulling him flush against him and reaching up with his other hand, clamping down on the print.

Dean gasped and then groaned, breaking away from the angel's mouth to drop his head in the crook of his neck while his body throbbed with pleasure over and over. He had never encountered such intense feelings during foreplay before, and if that was any indication of what was to come ...

Castiel slowly pulled his hand away, allowing Dean to relax against him and slide his hand out from between them. "Would you like to continue?" Castiel wondered.

Dean chuckled, pulling his head up and straightening his back again. "Definitely," he answered. When he caught his breath he glanced around the room they were standing in with their shirts off, scarcely a few inches between them. "But maybe we should go into the other room."

Castiel nodded, and Dean expected to simply walk into the next room and sit down on his bed, but Castiel touched his forehead - in a much more sensual way that he had ever done before - and a second later he found himself sprawled underneath the angel on the nearest bed.

"Much better," Castiel commented, shifting against him.

It was then that Dean realized that Castiel had transported them, but not their clothing.

Okay, wow, Dean thought, feeling ever bit of the angel that was pressed against him. Every bit.

Castiel initiated the kiss this time, pressing down on him with open and closed-mouthed kisses.

Dean took it a step further, sneaking out his tongue to catch the underside of Castiel's top lip.

Castiel twitched against Dean, moaning in his throat and deepening the kiss, sliding one of his hands over on the bed to sink into Dean's hair.

It didn't feel weird or strange ... it was definitely different, but Dean thought while Castiel nuzzled his neck and rolled them over, I could get used to different.

Dean tired out long before Castiel, so he began memorizing Castiel's body with his hands, fingers, mouth, teeth and tongue. Twenty minutes into his exploration he encountered a spot on his angel's spine that made Castiel make the most delicious of noises. When he'd regained the ability to speak, he managed to tell Dean that the spot was where his wings began when he was in his true visage. After some stroking, Dean discovered that by simultaneously running his fingernails up and down the angel's back while he traced the circles on the scar on his front, he could make Castiel buck and moan against him, his body vibrating and then glowing with the power of his orgasm.

Dean watched the angel come down from his high, grinning at the thought that he'd done that to him.

Castiel was so overwhelmed and distracted by the release that he didn't react to the key turning in the lock of the door, and therefore did not exit the room in time.

Sam stopped in the doorway, looking at the bed and two naked men init with a combination of emotions on his face.

Dean looked awkwardly from Castiel to his brother, wondering who would speak first, or it Castiel would still disappear, leaving him to deal with the fallout.

Finally Sam spoke, his voice even. "That was my bed."

The end.

I hope you guys liked this fic, I know I had fun writing it!

Reviews are appreciated, flame if you must, but constructive criticism is much more useful.

Until next time ...!