The borders of your mind

Chapter 1.

It was an accident, but in retrospect, Dean would always describe it as the accident that changed his life.

They'd been hunting this witch for a while. She was powerful and the antique sword she stole from that local museum made her even more dangerous, so when they cornered her in a forest and she knocked out Sam and nearly skewered Dean, the older Winchester had no other choice but to call Castiel. Little did he know how this would affect him and his relationship with the Angel.

With a flutter of wings, Dean's prayers were answered – before him stood Castiel, the fierce Angel, still radiant and full of righteous wrath, no matter how far he had fallen. In his hand was an angelblade and he wielded it with an effective elegance that never ceased to amaze the hunter, who had stepped back to care for his unconscious brother. Despite all of the witch's strength and cunning, she was no real match for her heavenly opponent. With a single fluid motion, Castiel cut her head off, and as her blood splattered across the Angel's trench coat and face, Dean detected the faintest trace of a smug smile on his friend's lips. He liked watching him like this, when he was in his element and seemed, for once, to be able to balance his identity as an Angel with his very human desires and mannerisms that had rubbed off on him.

"Thanks man, that was pretty close."

"I always come when you need me, Dean. You could have called earlier, I wouldn't have minded."

They both shared a smile then, but it was in this precise moment when something happened that neither of them could have expected. The witch's blood on Castiel's face started to glow and sizzle, obviously causing the Angel a lot of pain, and then, with a long, agonized scream, his eyes and mouth started emitting light, momentarily illuminating the whole forest, before everything went dark again and Castiel's lifeless body was sinking to the ground. The sound of his scream, however, didn't stop but it no longer sounded even remotely human. There was an eerie otherworldliness to it, and the sound caused Dean to crouch down and cover his ears, even though all he wanted was to check on his winged friend. He felt paralyzed, unable to get up or even move. The air around him was tense, almost electric and filled with something the hunter could only describe as uncontained power. Then, to his own surprise, Dean could make out words in this endless, bone-shattering scream.

"I can't go back, Dean. I can't return to my vessel. Please, I need your help."

The hunter understood what was happening then, what the nature of the witch's cursed blood was, and as his mumbled swearing indicated, he also knew what this meant for him and his friend.

"Take me, Cas. C'mon, before it's too late."

"No Dean, you cannot contain me. We need to find someone else. Fast!"

"Cut the crap, man! There's nobody else around and I won't let you have Sam. Just take me and be done with it, goddamnit! I was meant to be Michael's meatsuit so I'm damn sure I will survive some nerdy, little Angel."

Dean knew that Cas desperately needed a vessel. He was cut off from Heaven, lost a lot of his former strength, and without a body he would sooner or later simply cease to exist. Dean got no reply this time. Instead, he felt something warm and soft wrapping around him. He couldn't see what it was, but if he had to guess, he would have said it was Castiel's wings. The warm feeling was seeping inside of him, and while everything happened insanely fast, it still seemed like a long, drawn-out process to the hunter. He noticed a distinctive smell then, salt and ozone and –Cas. It was all around him, blocking out everything else, filling him with peace and then, the warmth was fully inside of him, filling out his whole body from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. For a moment, he felt more powerful than any human ever had the right to be. He knew he could crush rocks with his bare hands and distance no longer mattered to him and then, with a gasp, Dean felt a set of gigantic, smoky-black wings sprout and unfurl from his back. He could see them too, every single feather, and he enjoyed it as a soft spring breeze rustled through them. It wouldn't have taken long for the hunter to become drunk on all the power he had now, but even as he started to marvel at his new strength, he already felt his conscience being pushed somewhere in the back of his mind. Castiel was there in his thoughts, in every inch of his body. He took control then, turning Dean into a passive observer, a spectator who could only watch but never participate. The hunter didn't mind though. He felt pleasant, warm, wrapped in soothing promises and he didn't even care about that he no longer felt his own body. His angelic friend was caring for him, making this as enjoyable as possible for him. He would've been totally okay with the whole experience, if it wasn't for the metaphorical wall, standing between his mind and Castiel's, which slowly started to crumble.

"Cas? Man, what's going on? This is weird."

"I don't know, Dean. This never happened before."

He could hear his friend's voice coming from inside of him. There were no longer any borders between himself and the Angel. The dam was breached and the emotions came first – anger, fear, worry, affection (strong affection. Love?), all of them washed over Dean, nearly drowned him, and if his body still belonged to him, he wouldn't have known whether to scream, cry or hit some stupid mofo's face. Next came the memories, and they made everything so much worse, for with them came the guilt. In his mind, Dean could see millennia filled with mistakes. There were so many things Castiel regretted, so much pent-up rage, frustration and sadness, and all of it was crushing down on a simple human mind. In midst of all this chaos, of all this pain, there was only one thing that saved Dean (and presumably Castiel) from losing it, from just breaking apart. It was a small light, a glimpse of hope in a sea of regret, and the hunter clung to them. These memories, the ones that kept the Angel going, were short, seemingly insignificant compared to everything else, but they gave him enough strength to hold on. Dean could see his own face and his brother's. He could hear himself laughing, he watched as he put an arm around Castiel's shoulders and he relived every nice moment they had together.

"It's been a long time since I've laughed that hard. Oh. It's been more than a long time. Years"

„I'd rather have you, cursed or not"

For a split second, Dean understood. He understood everything - every mistake, every action. He knew why Cas had done what he did, he knew what he had given up and he desperately wanted to tell him that he understood now. He would never be able to completely forgive him, but he could accept his mistakes.

In this moment, Dean realized that he'd never been this close to someone before, not even to Sammy. He was literally sharing his body, mind and soul with Castiel. There were no borders between them. Everything he felt, the Angel felt too and vice versa, and it was then that the hunter knew what kind of intense emotions his friend harbored for him. There was nothing he could ever compare to this feeling, nothing – except for those he himself had for Castiel and could now no longer deny.

A part of him wanted to stay like this, connected to his friend, knowing everything he did, but the pain of Castiel's grace slowly ripping apart his body and his memories crushing his mind were more than he could survive for long. Then, all of a sudden, everything was over again. The Angel's warmth inside of him was gone, as was their connection and all those emotions. He was alone again in his body, with only the searing pain left to keep him company. In front of him, he could see Castiel slowly getting to his feet. They watched each other, not really knowing what to say. It was hard to find words when you just shared the whole essence of what you are.

"Is it always like this, Cas?"

"No, it's never like this. Usually I would have pushed your mind back and taken over control of everything. There would've been a wall between us, shielding you from me and keeping my memories and emotions away from you."

"Then what happened?"

"Maybe it was the cursed blood. I will have to find it out later. I also do not yet understand how we lifted the curse. It just seemed to disappear, but for now we should be content with what we have."

Dean watched as Castiel gently caressed his cheek with his thumb, softly stroking over the wounds his grace tore into the hunter's body, and healing them in the process. They shared a quick smile, brief enough to be barely noticeable but still there.

"You know, man, I think we should wake Sammy up and get back to the motel. I could do with a little rest."

"I agree, and I would like to talk to you, Dean."

"We're talking now, Constantine."

"I believe you know what I mean after everything you've seen…felt…experienced. Also, I don't like it when you compare me to characters in movies."

"I know, Cas. I understand now."

And he did.