A/N: Set in the Croatoan/2014!verse.

Cas stumbles into the main cabin, uncaring that he's late for the meeting and that every single person in there is glaring daggers at him. He flops down into an empty chair and kicks his legs up onto the table, sending a map fluttering to the floor.

Dean barely pauses in explaining their strategy for taking out the next Croat-infested town, although he does take the time to pin Castiel with a cold, hard stare before moving on to the issue of rationing food supplies.

When the meeting's over and everyone's filed out, leaving Cas and Dean alone in the cabin, Dean strides over to the door and slams it shut, before returning and swiping Cas' legs off of the table with a hand.

Cas frowns, but allows it, wondering why Dean's just standing there.

"What is it?" Cas asks eventually, because even stoned he knows, he can tell, from the tense set of Dean's shoulders and how he can't quite keep still, like he has to keep moving, that something's bothering their fearless leader.

"I got a lead on the Colt," Dean finally says, and for the first time in a very long time, he smiles.

It's not a genuine smile, of course. More like a repositioning of his facial muscles. Muscles that haven't seen much use these past few years, and the smile looks pained, more like a grimace than anything, but it's still better than the nothing of before.

This is the closest Dean's come to expressing any emotion since he heard about Detroit, and even if it's not for entirely the right reasons, at least there's a sense of determination, of purpose, to him now. And Cas would be perfectly happy to go along with whatever lead Dean's got so long as it keeps him like this – like the Dean he once knew and fell for, in every sense of the word.

Fifteen minutes later, Cas protests, "Dean, are you suicidal?"

Dean doesn't look at him as he meticulously traces the route they're about to take, and says grimly, "Are you with me or not?"

And Cas doesn't even have to think twice as he closes his eyes, sighs, and says, "When do we leave?"

xxx x xxx

He's packing for the mission – mostly just filling his pack with bottles of pills for the trip – when there's a knock on the wooden frame of his doorway.

"You know you can come in, Dean," he says without turning, debating between a bottle of bright yellow pills and a bottle of purple ones.

The beads clink as Dean pushes his way past, coming to a stop at a point behind Cas. His voice, when he speaks, is softer, more unsure, than Cas has ever heard him speak in years. Not since Detroit.

"Why do you keep doing this, Cas?"

Cas doesn't turn around, occupying his hands with tucking the bottle of purple pills into his pack as he carelessly discards the other bottle onto his cot.

"What?" he asks, finally, when he's run out of things for his hands to do.

"Putting up with me and my shit," Dean says, and he sounds genuinely confused, lost, even, as if he truly can't fathom the answer, as if he didn't already know exactly why, the bastard.

Cas wants to laugh at the absurdity of it.

"Dean, in case you haven't noticed, I don't." Cas bends over to pick up the discarded pill bottle, turning around and rattling it pointedly in Dean's face. "Is this what you call putting up with your shit?"

"You haven't left," Dean says softly, the unspoken yet hanging over both of them. "You come on every mission I ask you to, like this one, even when you and I both know the risks. Why?"

This time Cas does laugh. A broken, bitter sound.

"Where else would I go, Dean?"

xxx x xxx

They're crouched behind the back of the warehouse, a shotgun in Dean's hands, and a .45 in Cas'. The place is swarming with Croats, and even a couple of demons. Cas may be mostly Graceless, but he was still an angel, once. The true faces of the demons are still evident to him.

They lie in wait for the demons and Dean makes quick work of them with Ruby's knife as they pass, leaving only the Croats for them to deal with.

He and Dean manage to slip into the warehouse undetected, and from there they make their way around cargo containers, checking each one for the Colt. By the time they reach the second level, however, it's obvious which one it is.

"Thirty fucking Croats, Dean, are you insane?" Cas hisses, yanking Dean back by a jacket sleeve as he prepares to rise. "Let's just go get backup."

"We can't go back, those two demons we killed, they'll be noticed and the Colt will be moved again."

Cas sighs inwardly, knowing it's futile. "Fine," he says, and starts firing as he throws himself after Dean into the swarm of Croats.

xxx x xxx

"I can't believe we got it," Dean mutters, half in disbelief, half in awe, as he turns the Colt over and over in his hands.

Cas bites back a cutting remark about the fallibility of the plan, and how unbelievably luck they are to have gotten out, and focuses instead on the road.

"There's actually a chance to end this," says Dean, absently stroking along the sight of the Colt, "Take down the Devil and stop the end of the world."

Cas is concentrating so hard on the road he jumps about a foot in the air and barely avoids crashing the car when Dean's hand finds its way to his crotch.

Dean smirks, keeping his touches light and teasing, before saying, "Pull over."

Cas pulls over.

Dean's out the door and on his side in a matter of seconds. Cas finds his door open and himself yanked out and practically dragged off the side of the road, where Dean pushes him without preamble against a tree, rough bark against his back, as Dean crowds in and presses a bruising kiss to his lips.

Cas finds himself gasping because it's been so long, his orgies don't do shit for him the way Dean's touch does, igniting fire in him that's better than any drug he's ever had, that makes him feel high as the fucking sky and how it feels like he can still unfurl his wings and fly. Dean's tongue slips past his lips to swipe at the roof of his mouth, his teeth, and Cas does his best to return the caresses with his tongue, groaning at the taste Dean.

A knee is shoved between his legs and Cas grinds down against it relentlessly, one hand tangled in the hair at the nape of Dean's neck, the other wound around Dean's waist, under his shirt, stroking the skin of his lower back as Dean breaks the kiss to suck at Cas' pulse point, which is thrumming madly and Cas is sure there's going to be a bruise but he can't find it in himself to care, not when this is the closest he and Dean have been since Detroit, and maybe he's being selfish, but Cas doesn't want this moment to end, ever, doesn't want to return to camp and see Dean revert back to their Fearless Leader, see him shut himself down until there's nothing left but duty and responsibility and Sam, so he closes his eyes and just holds on.

When Dean's mouth leaves his skin he unconsciously chases it, arching his neck to regain the contact, and Dean huffs with amusement, warm breath washing over his neck and sending tendrils of lust skating down Cas' spine.

"Dean," he groans, opening his eyes when Dean's mouth doesn't return to his neck, and he's met with lust-blown pupils, so that only a thin ring of green remains as Dean cards a hand through Cas' hair and tightens his grip to guide him into a kiss that's all tongues twining and teeth clashing and the distinct possibility of bruised lips. Dean's free hand has made its way to Cas' jeans and is now deftly undoing his fly and reaching for his straining cock.

A smirk flits across Dean's face as he sees that Cas has gone commando. "Eager, are we?" he says, wrapping a hand around him as Cas gasps at the white-hot sparks bursting along his never endings and synapses and bucks into Dean's hand.

With a sudden growl of impatience Dean undoes his fly and wraps his hand around them both, relieved groans coming from the two of them as he does so. Cas' arms have found their way around Deans' shoulders and his mouth has latched on to the dip in between his collarbones, tonguing at the hollow of his throat. From the deep-throated moans and stuttering rhythm of Dean's hips as he thrusts into his fist, his cock sliding alongside Cas', he seems to enjoy it.

"Fuck, Cas," Dean pants, voice strangled and fucking wrecked, and Cas moans his assent as they both pick up the pace and fuck into the tight funnel of Dean's fist, sweat and precome slicking the way, the friction making everything sharper, the edges clearer, as they both reach completion at the same time and Cas muffles his cry in Dean's shoulder and some of their mingled come spills through Dean's fingers to paint the ground.

They both still, panting, clinging to each other. Cas leans his head against Dean's shoulder, wanting to prolong the moment, wanting to crystallize the calm before the storm, as he silently counts, waiting for the inevitable words. For Dean's demeanor to change, to close off, for him to tell Cas to back the fuck off and that this was just a mistake, and who does he think he is, anyway, that he can change who Dean is, because he's nobody and nothing, not anymore, he lost who he was when the host left, so why should Dean care, fearless leader that he is.

"Cas."

Dean's tone is carefully neutral and devoid of emotion, but the message is clear. Cas eases himself so he's not leaning his weight on Dean, and arranges his clothing to a more presentable state, while Dean does the same.

They walk back to the car in silence, and Dean gets in the driver's side.

"This changes nothing," he tells Cas, eyes set on the road once more.

Cas nods, because it's not like he expected anything else.

They can never be what they were.

He knew that. Knows.

So why does it still hurt?

xxx x xxx

They get back to camp, and later that day a Dean from '09 stumbles into Cas' path, throwing him completely, because it reminds him of everything he's lost, everything he's given up, to get him to this point.

When Dean-from-the-past asks what's happened to him, Cas tells him 'Life'.

What he really wants to say, however, is 'You'.

xxx x xxx

When Dean – his Dean, his fearless leader – briefs them on the mission to take down the Devil Cas knows there's no coming out of this alive, and he's followed Dean this far, which is why he readily agrees, "Okay."

When they're crouched by the outskirts of the sanatorium, and Dean tells Cas and Risa and the others to go around the front, Cas knows they're meant as the decoys and there's no coming out of this alive, so he waits until Dean's taken care of his past self and pulls Dean aside.

He supposes it doesn't matter, since he's going to his death anyway. He can afford to be selfish one more time.

Out of sight of the others, Cas grabs Dean by his jacket and presses a chaste kiss to his (unresponsive) lips, then draws back and places a hand over Dean's shoulder, where he knows the imprint of his Grace to be.

"It's fine, Dean, I don't mind," Cas tells him, smiling faintly when the mask slips, just a bit, and he catches a glimpse of the man he once fell for, in every sense of the word.

xxx x xxx

Dean fails.

The world ends.

Cas is somewhat perversely glad he ends with it.