A/N: This is my first venture into Supernatural fanfiction. I've recently gotten into the fandom and just really wanted to give it a go. I had a couple of scenes come to mind and felt compelled to write them down. This is the first of two one-shots, the first being Dean-centric and the second being Cas-centric. I think I'm going to publish them as two separate stories since, while they do go together chronologically, the themes are a bit different. Any feedback would be great!

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.

~ Eclipsed ~

One second, Dean Winchester had stumbled into the path of an oncoming vehicle. The next, the ground itself seemed to fall away, only to immediately rematerialize beneath him. The experience was very disorienting, especially since he had several shots of whiskey under his belt.

His eyes were still shut tight from bracing for impact, but his other senses told him why he wasn't road kill. Strong hands gripped his shoulders, and he found that his face was pressed firmly into cool fabric that smelled as if it had been outdoors for days.

After another brief moment, during which Dean caught his breath, he pulled back and looked into the face of his rescuer. For some reason, he was not surprised whatsoever to be looking into the inquisitive blue eyes of the angel Castiel.

"Cas," Dean grunted in greeting.

"Hello Dean," Castiel said evenly.

Dean fixed the angel with the toughest stare that he could muster, but the attempt fell pretty flat. "So, how does Heaven plan on making me their bitch this time?" Dean growled, swaying on his feet.

Castiel tilted his head to the side as he considered the older Winchester. "You are inebriated."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Picked up on that, did you?" He swayed again, so Castiel reached out to steady him. Dean stared at the angel's hand on his shoulder with a look of contempt. "Out with it, Cas, I don't have all day. What do they want with me?"

Castiel continued to stare at Dean in the way that only an angel could. "I am not here under Heaven's orders."

Dean raised an eyebrow at that. "Oh?" He asked in a tone colored with genuine surprise. "Then why the hell are you here?"

Castiel dropped his hand from Dean's shoulder, after ensuring that the hunter was steady, and looked away. It was only when Dean followed the angel's gaze that he realized where they had ended up. They were standing in the parking lot of a small 24-hour diner not too far from the bar Dean had just been drowning himself in. There weren't many patrons at this hour, which Dean now considered to be a blessing.

"Sam."

That caught Dean's attention. His gaze snapped back to Castiel's pensive expression. Dean threateningly poked his forefinger into Castiel's chest, causing the angel to abruptly turn his eyes back to Dean's. "I don't care if he's getting his kicks on demon blood, if you harm one hair on his head, so help me, Cas, damn it I will-"

"You misunderstand," Castiel interjected, raising his voice. Castiel's facial expression shifted in such a minor way that most people would have missed it, but Dean could tell that the angel's patience was wearing thin. "He prayed for you."

Dean scoffed. "What for?" He asked innocently.

Castiel tilted his head again, except this time, rather than looking curious, he appeared as if he was staring at the biggest idiot on the planet. It made Dean feel small. "Don't act like you don't know," Castiel answered brusquely. "Now I can see that his concern was warranted. You nearly got yourself killed."

Dean glared at him. "So, what? You came down here to give me your high and mighty lecture on the evils found at the bottom of a bottle?"

Castiel sighed. "I'm not here to judge you, Dean," he assured him, "especially when you seem to be doing that well enough on your own."

Dean laughed humorlessly. "You think you've got me all figured out, don't you?" Dean shook his head, his temper rising. "You're just the sorry sap that got saddled with pulling me from Hell, you don't know the first thing about me!"

Castiel suddenly looked tired. Dean knew that was absurd since angels didn't sleep, but he could think of no other way to label the expression on the face of the man in the trench coat standing before him. "You're blaming yourself for breaking the first seal."

"It was my fault."

Castiel closed his eyes briefly in exasperation. When he opened them, he looked even more tired. "I told you that it wasn't blame that fell on you. I meant it. This was all preordained long ago, Dean." He paused. "It's unnecessary to dwell on this. It's out of your hands."

"I think it's very necessary," Dean snapped, "look at what I've become."

Castiel said nothing. He just waited, knowing Dean wasn't finished.

Dean scrubbed a hand down his face. "I don't know why you bother with me," he muttered. "I've done terrible things. I tortured soul after soul in Hell, hundreds…thousands." Despite himself, Dean's lower lip began to tremble, and he was forced to look away from Castiel's soul piercing gaze. "You should spend your valuable time on someone more worthy."

There was a long silence. For a moment, Dean thought that the angel might have taken flight, and the idea filled him with a surprising emptiness. The last thing he wanted was for Castiel to leave. The last thing he wanted was to be alone.

Footsteps assured him that the angel had decided to stick around. Dean turned in surprise, only to discover that Castiel was even closer than he had been already. The hunter blinked in surprise at the fierce expression on Castiel's face.

"You think yourself unworthy?" Castiel asked as if it was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard.

Dean swallowed hard against the lump that had formed in his throat, speechless.

"Listen to me, now," Castiel growled. Castiel was so close that Dean could feel the angel's hot breath on his face. "When I found you in the Pit-"

Dean tensed. "Cas-"

"I know you don't want to discuss Hell, Dean, but tough. We're discussing it." Castiel remained firm. "When I found you in the Pit, I was in awe of what I saw. All of those souls down there and not one of them compared to yours."

Dean was trapped in Castiel's stare down and couldn't make himself to look away. "What do you mean?" He asked in a small voice.

Castiel looked down briefly, searching for the right words. When he looked up again, Dean saw determination in his eyes. "Have you ever seen a solar eclipse?"

Dean frowned, caught off guard by the question. "Only in photographs," he replied, confused. "Don't you need special glasses or whatever to look at them?"

"Not me," Castiel informed him.

He didn't understand what any of this eclipse nonsense had to do with his soul, but Dean bit back the sarcasm he wanted to throw at the angel because there was still that fierce gleam in Castiel's blue eyes. Instead, he decided to play nice this once. "And what is that like?"

Castiel looked up at the sky thoughtfully. "Intense," he said finally. "It's a testament to the brightness of the star that, when covered by darkness, the light shines even brighter than before."

Dean hoped this wasn't going where he thought it was going, but he found the lump forming in his throat again anyway.

Castiel met Dean's gaze once more. "You may think of yourself as twisted, broken, and unworthy because of the deeds of your past, but that's not what defines you. You are a good person, Dean. When I found you in Hell, I saw your soul." Castiel smiled slightly at the memory. "And it was blinding," he said in a soft voice that somehow managed to drown out the rest of the world.

Dean didn't know what to say to any of that. He could feel his eyes burning, but he refused to let a single tear fall. Suddenly he wanted to hide, because everything Castiel was saying was too much praise and reverence while he thought he should feel like dirt.

A door banged open and a few patrons stumbled out of the diner, laughing. This finally broke the trance that had kept Dean's eyes fixed up on Castiel, and he noticed just how close the two of them were.

Dean cleared his throat. "Um, Cas?"

Castiel continued to stare at him in wonder with that small smile still in place.

Dean shifted uncomfortably. "There's this, uh, basic human principle called 'personal space.' Ever heard of it?"

Castiel squinted at him. "No, I am not familiar with that concept."

Dean laughed softly and scratched the back of his neck. "Well, everybody has this hypothetical bubble surrounding them that other people just aren't supposed to step into." He paused. "Unless there's permission involved, or something."

Castiel still looked confused. "I don't understand."

Dean sighed, placed his hands on Castiel's chest, and gave the angel a gentle shove. When Castiel looked slightly offended, Dean used his hands to indicate an invisible bubble around him.

"This is my bubble," Dean explained. "It's common courtesy, Cas. Important knowledge for interacting with other people. Just tryin' to help you out."

Castiel nodded. "Okay, I think I get it."

Dean grinned at him. "Great." He looked behind him where the road was before glancing back at Castiel.

"You should get some rest," Castiel told him.

Dean thought maybe the angel had read his mind. "Think you could give me a lift back to the Impala?"

Castiel looked slightly alarmed, or, as alarmed as Castiel could look. "You're intoxicated and shouldn't drive."

Dean sighed. "I'm fine."

"No."

Dean closed his eyes and hung his head in defeat, knowing there was no way he'd win an argument or a fight with Castiel in his condition. "Any chance you know how to drive?"

Dean swore he heard a quiet sound that resembled a laugh coming from the angel. "If I don't understand something as 'basic' as personal space, what makes you think I could operate a motor vehicle?"

Dean looked back up at Castiel. "Touché," he agreed reluctantly. He sighed again. "I just hate the idea of her sitting in the parking lot of some dive bar all night," he said huskily in frustration.

There was that small, barely there smile again. "No harm will come to your car, Dean."

"One scratch and I'll have your ass mounted on my wall," Dean threatened. He was only half joking. Even in his drunken state he realized that, if he had been allowed to drive, he likely would've gotten much more than a scratch on Baby.

Castiel charitably didn't comment on that. "I promise."

That was good enough for Dean. He braced himself for the trip back, but Castiel just stood there. With a frown, Dean raised his hands and shrugged in a gesture that said, "What's the deal?"

Castiel shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously. "I am respecting your personal space."

Dean looked up at the sky in exasperation. "Of course now you do," he muttered. He shook his head before looking back down at the suddenly uncertain angel. He offered up a smile. "It's okay. Go ahead. I'm ready to fly Air Cas."

Castiel raised an eyebrow at being referred to as an airline, but he made no comment. He simply raised his hand, touched it to Dean's forehead, and the world dissolved around them.

When they arrived back at the motel the brothers were staying at, Dean immediately collapsed face first onto the bed. He relished in the warmth and comfort that it brought, as it was a stark contrast to the brisk night air he had just been standing in for God knows how long.

With a contented sigh, he rolled over onto his side, hoping that Castiel hadn't left yet, and wasn't disappointed. The angel watched him silently.

Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Look, Cas, I just want to, uh, thank you."

Castiel stared.

"You saved my life," Dean said, his voice hardly above a whisper. He cast a quick glance over at Sam's sleeping form, afraid of waking him. "And as for what you said…"

"You needn't say anything, Dean," Cas said gently.

Dean was so grateful to him for saying that, because he always felt very uncomfortable in these sorts of "chick flick" moments. But Castiel had to know how much his words meant to Dean. "I know, but I want to," he insisted. He hesitated. "I might still think I'm a screw up, but the fact that you don't…that really…"

Castiel sat down on the bed, his eyes never leaving Dean's. "You are not a screw up," he whispered sincerely. "You have earned my faith."

Dean gaped at Castiel. He knew that the angel's faith was not something to be taken lightly. This was huge.

Dean rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. Castiel had a talent for leaving him without the right words to say. He had no idea what he had done to earn such devoted friendship.

That was the first time Dean had thought of Castiel as his friend. The realization that he felt friendship towards the angel hit him like a brick wall, and suddenly, he knew what to say.

He turned on his side once more, only to realize that the angel had taken off. He was left alone, save for his brother slumbering away in the other bed.

Dean smiled to himself and lay staring up at the ceiling once more. The strange, stoic angel in the trench coat with the backwards tie was the only friend he could remember ever having.

"I don't have faith in much, Cas," he whispered, "but I have faith in you."

Dean hoped that Castiel could hear him. His gut feeling told him that the angel could.