You are not Alone in this.

In a moment of poor judgement and perhaps a little blind faith Castiel pressed his hand against Dean's chest, feeling the soft material beneath his fingers and feeling Dean's quickly beating heart against his ribcage. Castiel slowly gripped his shirt tight in his fist until he could feel his nails biting into his palm even through the material, and jerked Dean towards him. Castiel let his eyes slip shut and he pressed his lips against Dean's mouth in a rough and sort of needy motion. Dean's lips, parted with a gasp, were motionless as they were captured by Castiel's kiss for what seemed like minutes but in reality was seconds. Castiel pulled away, his throat bobbing as he swallowed uneasily and tilted his head, his eyes narrowing and examining Dean carefully. Castiel's gaze was strong, his blue eyes were dark and full of question, but at the same time, an untamed fire was lit in them. A fire that burned with hope, courage, fear, and even love. The angelic spirit that burned inside him was churning behind those eyes. Dean just looked at Castiel for a moment with a sort of fearful pensiveness that had become his normal expression, his lips remaining motionless, parted, and slightly chapped. The world had taken it's toll on him, his shoulders were tensed, and his body was clearly weary before Castiel. He gripped his shotgun tighter in his fist, feeling Castiel's hand still tightly wrapped up in the fabric of his shirt. He glanced down at Castiel's hand, and for a moment there was a flicker of a smile on his face. In a flash it was gone and Dean heaved a sigh, a soft and sad sigh that spoke of what lay before them.

"Thanks Cas..." he said softly, closing his eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck and leaned forward, his lips just centimeters from Castiel's ear. "If I make it through this... I promise... I will make all of it... Everything... up to you..."

Castiel's grip on Dean's shirt loosened and then slipped away, his arm falling limply by his side and his body going a little slack.

"Do what must be done Dean. And make it through this alive... That will be enough repayment for me."

I Know that You Feel Me Somehow.

In the dark of Dean's motel room, he stripped off his jacket and kicked off his shoes. Sam was already sleeping soundly in his bed. The alcohol churning through Dean's system had worn off before he'd made it home from the bar. He'd just not felt like drinking himself into a stupor. He was off his game, out of his mind with something akin to depression. He walked over to his bed, and sat down on the edge of it, glancing at the clock on the bedside table as he pushed up his t-shirt sleeve slowly. Dean ran his fingers gently over his upper arm, the raised scarring on his flesh was tingling with a soft and feathery warmth that he'd been feeling all evening. As he let his eyes slip shut he could feel Castiel's familiar grip on his arm and the tight and burning yank on his limb all over again as if it were the first time. He winced and for a split second his mind was transported to the moment he was lifted from the pit... The moment Castiel raised him up into the sunlight.

'I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition...'

Dean placed his hand over the print on his arm and took a deep breath inward, holding it. For a moment he just sat there in silence, letting the cozy tingle warm him right down to his toes, before he let his breath out, and on it, a whispered message.

"Cas... I miss you..."

If he concentrated hard enough he could feel Castiel's wings around him, and his hand gripping him tight. He could feel them, soft like silk, each individual feather brushing over his skin, and hot like a branding iron a hard grip on his arm. He could hear the shriek of Enochian tongue as it filled his ears, and the outcry of crying souls, angry demons, and growling hell hounds growing memory was etched into every fiber of his being. Dean stripped off his shirt and jeans, tossing them aside and laying down in the nameless motel bed, sighing softly. He closed his eyes tighter for a moment as he rolled onto his side, silently wishing that Castiel was here, sitting beside him sleeplessly as he used to do. Dean was nearly off to sleep in a matter of moments after his head hit the pillow, but a soft fluttering sound jarred him awake. The bed sank behind him with the weight of someone laying there. A warm and gentle hand moved over the print on Dean's arm, fitting the spot perfectly as if it had never left. It felt like liquid fire through Dean's veins, a familiar passion passed from the fingertips of the one laying with him right into his body, pulsing like a drum.

Without a word spoken, Dean heard Castiel.

'I miss you too Dean...'

Dean bit down on his tongue, taking it in for a moment, and then as he rolled over to face it, the presence was gone, and Dean was left alone with only a feeling... One strong, and lingering feeling...

I'm With You

Dean was yawning again, doing his best not to doze off as he drove back towards his motel. Dried blood was flaking off his skin and his head ached from how many times it had been smacked around that night. Dealing with ghouls wasn't exactly difficult but it sure as hell wasn't easy. After a long and rigorous few days tracking them down and killing them, he just wanted a shower, a glass of rot-gut whisky, and a squeaky motel bed to pass out on. He watched the road as it stretched out before him, the drive passing far too slowly since he was painfully alone. Another yawn heaved his chest as the motel came into site. It was time for some well deserved rest. He pulled the Impala into an empty space and headed towards his room. Fiddling with the key for a moment he almost didn't want to enter the empty motel room. He hated the idea of being alone. He didn't like to admit it but he really just couldn't shake loneliness. It ached in every inch of his body. He jiggled the key into the lock and opened the door, stepping into the dark space. He kicked the door shut behind him, not bothering to lock it, what was the point really? Was death such a bad thing? Being dead was better than living this life alone...

Dean groaned. Now he was just thinking plain morbid. It was time for some whiskey. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, kicking off his boots by the door as he headed further into the room. When he opened his eyes he frowned, noticing something he hadn't when he'd first walked in. On the table in his little motel room was a cloth, deep red in color, and atop this cloth was what Dean could only describe as a candlelight dinner. Two white long stem candles in crystal candle sticks were flickering away in the motel room, casting light onto classy china and shimmering real silver, silverware. He narrowed his eyes and turned around, looking around the room for some sort of clue as to what this was about. He caught sight of the bathroom door, just slightly ajar he took a few steps closer, noticing that the light from within the room was flickering candlelight as well. He pushed open the door and sustained a gasp as he saw, not the dingy little motel bathroom, but a candlelit master bathroom, complete with jaccuzi tub, and beside the tub, on a little table in an bucket of ice was a bottle of champagne, and beside it two flutes. The aroma of the candles was Dean's favorite, he'd always thought the smell of Cinnamon was arousing and comforting at the same time and the room was filled with it. There was a steaming bath drawn and Dean was wondering for a moment if he was dreaming. Or possibly dead...

The sound of a throat clearing behind him drew upon Dean's natural hunter instincts. Whatever had done this was here. In a flash his hand was wrapped around his pistol, he turned and fired off three shots without a second thought, gaping, baffled at what he saw. Castiel was standing in the bathroom doorway. There was a look of slight discomfort mingled with confusion on Castiel's face as he looked down at the bullet holes in his shirt. Dean dropped his gun and took a few shaky breaths.

"Jesus Christ Cas you nearly gave me a heart attack!" Dean said, taking in the sight of the angel with a baffled look on his own face. Castiel's brows were knitted together as he wrapped himself up into his thoughts for a moment. Dean slowly calmed himself, taking in the sight of Castiel, the angel was wearing something other than his usual uniform tonight. Tonight it was a black dress shirt and a pair of white cotton pants, and surprisingly barefoot. Dean thought briefly, that it looked like Castiel was in some sort of... Pajamas? He looked down right comfortable. Castiel took a deep breath and watched the bullet holes in his chest disappear.

"You shot me. That wasn't exactly what I'd expected..." Castiel said, his gruff tone, as usual,void of most readable emotion. Dean frowned and shook his head, looking around.

"What exactly were you expecting?" he asked with an incredulous shake of his head. Castiel tilted his head and looked towards the ceiling for a moment and then back to Dean.

"Intercourse?" Castiel replied questioningly. Dean looked around at the bathroom and then remembered the little candlelight dinner back in the other room, and it slowly sank in. He began to laugh, as he realized that Castiel had planned on wooing and seducing him. Some things never ceased to amaze him. Dean nodded and gave Castiel a bright smile.

"Sure Cas... Anything you want..."

Dean stripped off his shirt and moved towards Castiel, kissing him hard, relieved that he was no longer alone...

To be a Lover

Castiel knew by definition what it meant to be a lover, he'd seen it a million times a million different ways over his stretching eternity. However, until this moment he'd never felt what it meant to be a lover. Every second that had passed and lead up to the scene he was now intrinsically involved in was burning, etched in his bones. The undying dedication to do whatever it took to help Dean survive and see him happy was all that consumed him. Castiel's lips parted as he felt a shuddering and wanton moan leave his body, Dean's strong arms were wrapped around him tightly. Castiel was seated on Dean's hips, taking each inch of the other man in, figuratively and literally. He drank in the smell, the feel, the sound, each of Dean's movements sending tremors of a foreign sort of passion through him. He dragged his fingers down Dean's arms, feeling the muscles tremble and the slick sweat under his touch. Dean's lips were on his throat, then his jaw, near his ear. He could hear the whispers of Dean's affection as they left the hunter's lips, and he could feel them as they resonated from Dean's heart.

A connection so infinite and in depth was one Castiel had know of, but never comprehended. Castiel knew of many things, but to truly know like he knew now, what it was to make love... That was the most freeing piece of knowledge he'd ever gained. Dean's hips rocked up into his body, touching deep and his voice was filling a void Castiel had been feeling so long. Castiel tipped his head back, keening and mewling in ways he'd never thought were possible for him. He was human for now, and for now he would indulge in these moments as only humans could. The world was coming close to an end, and all he had now was this mortal coil, and this unshakable bond. He placed his hand over the print he'd left on Dean's arm and gripped tight, causing Dean to gasp.

"Castiel..."

Dean's husky voice gave Castiel chills. He looked down and met Dean's gaze, the man's green eyes blazing in the moonlight that fell through the gap of the motel curtains onto the bed. Castiel pressed his other hand to the back of Dean's neck and pulled him in for a kiss. To be a lover, for Castiel, meant no turning back, no doubting Dean, and carrying on no matter what.

"I have faith in you Dean... I have so much faith... And where I do not have faith I have love..."

Dean broke away from the kiss and buried his face in Castiel's neck, the message reaching him loud and clear. He couldn't bring himself to reciprocate the sentiment out loud, but Castiel could feel it. Dean knew just what it meant to be a lover too...