Shadowfeet

Hello again everyone! Here's another Destiel that I've been writing for quite some time…it's my baby~ And I know, it's really long….and I originally planned to submit the whole thing as a one-shot, but I just kept writing and writing, and then I added a semi-epilogue/third part to it and was all like FINE. So yeah, submitting the first part and then the subsequent chapters later on.

If the beginning sounds familiar, it's because I started to make this like a Supernatural version of The Rite. I started writing this right after I watched that awesome movie and was all like, damn, I wanna make a Destiel out of that (I think that about a lot of movies...lol). So yeah, the premise is rather similar till it quite obviously branches off (no, there will be no exorcisms in here…).

And as a forewarning, I know nothing of the Catholic Church beside what I've seen and read, I'm not even Christian, so forgive me if certain parts are incorrect or just seem to be lacking. That's why. Feel free to correct me, I'll be sure to take a look and possible correct whatever it is you point out (unless of course if it's detrimental to the development of the plot).

Song I listened to while writing this was Shadowfeet by Brooke Fraser~ Awesome song, and it set this whole vibe for me, so yeah, listen if you want!

Unbeta'ed, so all mistakes are my own.

Anywho, rambled long enough…Enjoy! :)


If there was one thing that Dean Winchester hated the most, it was the pious bastards that assumed he didn't believe in God due to his rather…realistic take on exorcism. Did he believe in God? Yes. Did he believe in demons? Hell yeah. But did he believe that the common man had the power to deduce whether a person had been possessed by one of the fiery beasts? No.

Which was why he was here.

He still hadn't taken his final tests or vows. He wasn't a priest yet, but he was pretty damn close, close enough for some people it seemed. He might be pretty religious, but he was still a skeptic about the whole possession thing. How was an ordinary man like himself able to tell if some poor guy was acting the way he was not out of insanity but out of impulse from some unholy creature?

The people sitting around him didn't seem that all that concerned over the people, just expelling the demon to the hell from whence it came. Not concerned over the fact that a lot of these exorcisms resulted in injury, and sometimes death, of the possessed.

"And who exactly are you?"

The priest conducting the lecture stopped close to Dean's row, obviously referring to the unwashed, unshaven American in their midst.

"Oh, uh, Dean Winchester, from-"

"Oh yes, the American."

"Yes, sorry for being late, my flight was delayed…"

"I don't really care what excuse you have, just be sure it doesn't happen again, yes?"

"Yes, sir."

'Great,' Dean thought, glancing around at all the sour looks he was receiving, 'I'm the dirty American now.'

One glance, however, stood out from the rest. A younger looking priest, but yet still older than Dean, with startling blue eyes and short dark hair, made even darker by his black cassock. He regarded the scene with a soft, vacant smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. The man noticed Dean's returned gaze and that smile grew wider, pinching the corners of his eyes. Now that was a real smile. He nodded once before turning his eyes and attention back to the lecture. Dean did the same, and before he knew it, the lecture was over and that same priest from earlier was standing in front of him expectantly.

"So, you are American?" He started in a heavily accented, deeply hoarse voice. Dean, too startled by that voice didn't reply, causing the priest to shuffle awkwardly.

"Ah, forgive me, I couldn't help but be curious. I apologize for father Uriel's rudeness; he was mocking you, no?"

"Oh, uh, no, he wasn't mocking me, I really am American…though I guess he could have said it a little nicer…"

The priest laughed, a wonderfully rich sound, before extending his hand.

"Welcome to the Vatican, American, you may call me Castiel."

"Ha, thanks Castiel, you can call me Dean."

They shook hands, Dean stood and they both walked from the building into the blinding sunlight.

"He means well," Castiel began, "Father Uriel. He may seem crude, but he is a rather nice man."

"Coulda fooled me. Seems like a real charmer." Dean commented dryly, earning a small chuckle from the shorter priest.

"Give him time, I'm sure he'll warm up to you."

They trailed off into a comfortable silence, reaching the center courtyard. Dean took his time walking, hoping Castiel didn't mind. Dean had never seen such beautiful architecture before, and he planned on soaking it all in before returning to his dull little church house in Kansas.

"It's beautiful, no?" Castiel asked, sitting on a nearby bench and Dean sat as well.

"It sure is…Way different than what I'm used to."

"The Vatican has always been a source of such beauty to me. It is fitting that outwardly it should match those sentiments."

"Yeah…"

"Padre Castiel!" Someone called from across the courtyard.

"Padre Uriel, che cosa?"

The older priest jogged up to Castiel and launched into a hurried tirade with lightening quick Italian, eyes darting furtively in Dean's direction, and Dean noticed his hand was slowly digging harder and harder into Castiel's shoulder. He was also jabbing his finger into Castiel's chest, seeming to tower over the shorter man. Whatever he said clearly angered the younger priest, for his reply was scathing and harsh, and if at all possible, faster than Uriel's hurried cadence. Dean could work his way through an elementary Italian conversation, and had at one point been proud of the amount of the language he had mastered in such a short time. But this conversation truly humbled those thoughts.

"Dean." Castiel broke free of Uriel's grasp, quickly grabbing Dean's arm and dragging him off the bench and away from the stunned Uriel without so much as an explanation.

"Castiel! Vieni qui!"

Castiel shouted something behind his back with a dismissive wave of his hand before releasing Dean's arm, clearly expecting him to follow.

"What was that all about?" Dean asked as he picked up his pace to follow close to the irate priest. Castiel's answering smile was the small one he saw earlier, it was empty.

"Nothing, do not worry yourself. Do you want to go get a drink? Not that American McDonalds coffee shit, real espresso."

Castiel was clearly avoiding whatever was said, which was obviously an argument about him if he dare say so himself, but Dean wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. And he definitely wasn't going to skip the prospect of some much needed caffeine.

"Sure, Cas. I think I need it."


Dean soon learned that Castiel, Cas as he's come to call him, got extremely loopy when full of tasty espresso. At several points in their conversation (honestly Dean didn't even know what they were talking about at the moment) Cas would lapse into Italian, talking animatedly, not even noticing Dean's amusingly confused expression. All Dean had to do was smile and nod in the pauses and Cas would continue.

Dean cleared his throat and looked at his watch; it was two minutes till their next lecture. Castiel saw the movement and sobered up a little, "I guess we should start heading back, don't want you to be late twice in a row." He grabbed his last cup of espresso and threw it back like a shot of tequila before standing and waiting on Dean, not commenting on his amused expression.


Their next lecture was given by a younger nun, her name was Anna, and apparently had known Castiel for quite some time. Their slight tardiness hardly fazed her, and didn't even stop to speak to the two gasping men as they took their seats in the back. Uriel was there and made sure to give Dean the darkest glare he could muster, but one cursory glance from Castiel made him turn back around.

At the end Dean hung back and gave Castiel some space to speak with Anna, which was when he was pulled to the side by Uriel.

"Look, Winchester, I don't particularly like the effect you have on Castiel, and would greatly appreciate it if you left him alone from now on. He doesn't need distractions like you, especially not now."

"I don't really know what you're talking about. Castiel seems like a nice guy, a grown guy. I'm sure he can handle things himself."

"Castiel is in the right position with the right people at this moment. If anything happens to him to change that he'll miss his chance!"

"Chance at what?"

"Father Uriel! I know you're not speaking to another man of faith under this roof with that tone of voice." Anna admonished, coming to stand next to Dean. Uriel began to say something in Italian, 'again with the Italian,' but Anna raised her hand to silence him.

"Please father, you know I do not speak Italian as fluently as you. I'm sure anything you wish to say to me can be voiced as eloquently in English as any other language." She raised her eyebrows at him, and Dean got the distinct feeling that he had started something rather disturbing. Like a turf war over who gets Castiel and who gets the consolation prize.

'So far,' Dean thought, taking in Castiel's affronted look at Uriel as well as Anna's calm but alert manner, 'I'd say Anna is winning by a long shot.'


"So where are you staying, Dean?" Castiel asked as they once more walked from the building into the courtyard. "Don't tell me those horrible travelers' rooms; they are never in good condition."

"I'm afraid so." Dean replied warily, wondering if that last statement was supposed to be some sort of joke.

"Hmm," Castiel frowned, "that is no good. You should come stay with us."

"Us?"

"Yes, my brother and I. Do not worry, he won't mind you being there at all."

"Are you sure? I don't mean to impose…"

"No, it's no imposition at all! Besides, you'll need to get out of the Vatican sooner or later, you'll go mad if you stare at the same buildings day in and out, trust me."

"If you say so."

"Good, then its settled." Castiel smiled that winning smile of his again, and Dean found it extremely difficult to look away that time.


It turned out that Balthazar, Castiel's half-brother, had an old villa in Rome not far from the outskirts of the Vatican, close but not too close. A perfect, healthy distance as Balthazar described it. Balthazar was well off, according to Castiel, and their surroundings proved that rather nicely.

And the more time Dean spent with Balthazar the more he learned that he was a filthy rich British bastard that didn't really care what Castiel did, just as long as he stayed out of his way and out of his sight. Especially when guests were over, as if he was ashamed of Castiel. Dean couldn't fathom how anyone could treat Castiel like that. In Dean's eyes Castiel was a saint, though at this point he had only known him for about a month or so, but they had become inseparable.

"So you are a seminarian, Dean?" Balthazar began during one of the few dinners the brothers shared.

"Sort of…I'm still not quite sure where I stand at this point in time."

"Ah."

Castiel shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Dean had already told Castiel where he stood on the issue, and he had accepted that fact. But Castiel apparently saw something in Dean that he simply did not. The faith and the love required to complete his vows and become a priest.

"Strange to have come so far and yet you have stalled," Balthazar commented flippantly, pouring himself another glass of some obscure vintage wine. "You must have some reason for starting the journey to begin with."

Dean didn't like the way Balthazar labeled his quest for his faith, and apparently neither did Castiel if his clenched fists were any indication.

"My family was extremely religious. There really wasn't any other option. I was practically raised in the church, I was never far from God, but I'm afraid certain…events in my life are holding me back." Dean answered, becoming quite interested in his excellent chicken cacciatore. Balthazar hummed while taking a liberal sip of wine.

"Such as?"

Castiel cleared his throat loudly.

"I'd rather not say." Dean responded tartly, giving his best all teeth smile that would put off even the most prying atheist.

Castiel took advantage of the strained silence to steal away with his nearly empty plate and glass.

"There's really no need for that, Cassie, I hire a kitchen staff for a reason." Balthazar called after him.

"I'd rather do it myself, thank you."

Dean stood as well, hurrying after Castiel before he lost sight of the black clothed man in the mazelike villa.

"Forgive my brother, sometimes I don't think he realizes how hurtful he is being." Castiel breathed, obviously trying to quell silent rage.

"You sure do ask me to forgive a lot of people on their account." Dean joked dryly, smirking a little at the slight smile sent his way.

"Sorry, habit."

'Of course,' Dean thought with a small amount of mirth, 'we pray to God every day to forgive us our sins and the sins of others.'

"So what's his problem anyway, if you don't mind my asking?" Dean asked when they deposited their dishes in the kitchen.

"Who, Balthazar? He just doesn't see the worth of becoming a priest. Always thought I was rather foolish to pursue God's work, like our father."

"Your father?"

"Yes, he was a priest as well. He married my mother when she was pregnant from her previous engagement. Balthazar never really took to me. To him I was just a baby that happened to live under the same roof, born from a woman that also happened to live there as well. He held no love for me, and I grew to understand that, though it was painful to behold. He moved on to bigger things, became a CEO of some company in London, and I didn't see him again till about three years ago when he called asking for our father. When I told him that he had passed he moved here to be with me."

"And your mother?"

"She left, years and years ago. To this day I do not know where she went; every attempt of mine to reach her has been in vain."

"I'm…sorry to hear that…"

"It is of little import."

"Hey, my family is coming to visit in a few weeks, would you like to meet them?"

Dean would give anything to freeze that beautiful smile on Castiel's face at the mention of his family.

"I would love to!"

"Great! But they might be a little disappointed when they don't see a little halo over your head."

"Why is that?" Castiel asked, voice softening.

"The way I've described you, I'm sure they think you're some sort of angel."Dean replied, voice also dropping to a softer tone, though why he did not know.

"Hmm," Castiel hummed, the same smile staying on lips but something changed in the way he walked, something changed in the very air.

But Dean could tell it was a good change.


"Dean!"

"Sammy!"

The two brothers ran at each other and embraced tightly, laughing.

"Dude, it's been like, a million years! You look so sophisticated, that's not like you Dean." Sam grinned, stepping back and taking Dean by the shoulders.

"And you're still your gigantor self, still chugging milk and chomping on salads?"

"Ha ha, Dean, very funny. So is this father Castiel?" Sam gave his very best bitch face before turning to the shy priest standing behind Dean.

"Please, Sam, call me Castiel." He smiled, reaching out to shake Sam's offered hand. Sam grinned like a puppy with a bone, "Your name is very peculiar, you were named after the angel, right?"

"Ah, yes indeed, though most spell it Cassiel."

"Yeah, that's true."

Dean chuckled. "Nerds."

"Now Dean, that's not very nice."

"Mom!"

Castiel watched as a stunning older blond woman walked up to Dean and enveloped him in a warm embrace, kissing him on the cheek before he could escape.

"Father," she turned with the warmest smile Castiel had ever seen, "it's a pleasure to finally meet you. Thank you for taking such good care of Dean. I was worried to send him so far away but now I see I needn't have worried."

"Of course, of course, it was no trouble at all. Dean has become a much needed friend to me. Your son is a very clever young man, and makes these dry courses…quite worth the time." Castiel responded, liking the slight blush that crept up Dean's face.

"C'mon, Cas…" Dean groaned, and his mother laughed.

"Why don't you show us around? Sammy's been dying to see the sights."

"Of course the nerd wants to look around." Dean snickered, earning a punch on the shoulder from his younger brother.

"How about we start at the café I took you before?"Castiel suggested, already walking in its general direction.

"That sounds like a good idea."


Sam and Cas got along like two peas in a pod, and Dean took the opportunity to hang back and get some quality time with his mother.

"So, Dean, how do you like the Vatican? Are you enjoying any of your courses?"

"It's great mom, I think it's just what I needed."

"That's wonderful sweetie. If I remember your last call correctly, you've been staying with father Castiel and his brother, right? How has that been?"

"Well the villa is freaking huge, it's like we have the whole place to ourselves. His brother is…well he's a piece of work, that's for sure. Castiel's had some issues in the past, we fit together perfectly, you know, help each other out when it gets tough..."

"That's great, Dean. I'm glad you've made a friend. Honestly, after your first call I was scared you weren't going to fit in here at all…which is what I warned you about in the first place you know, I was worried people wouldn't like you just because you were an American…"

"Mom! I'm fine here, honestly! Cas is great, and even though his brother is an ass, he's not half bad himself."

Castiel shouted something back at Dean and he smiled.

"And he's been helping me with Italian," he chuckled, walking faster to catch up.

After their short break at the café, Cas convinced Sam to put off sightseeing for the day. They had, after all, just got off a rather long flight, and the Vatican would still be standing the next day. And the next, God willing. Besides, Sam was interested in seeing Balthazar's villa.

Yes, Castiel already asked Balthazar if Dean's family could stay in the villa. As far as Balthazar was concerned, "the little rednecks can plunk their happy asses wherever they please."

Castiel wasn't particularly happy with that answer, but it was satisfactory. Dean didn't even want to understand the muttered string of Italian issued from Castiel after that exchange.


The very next day saw them visiting almost every major landmark in Vatican City, as well as several key locations in surrounding Roma, pulled along by the overly enthusiastic Sam.

He was like a kid at Christmas with his head stuck in a partially unfolded map as they walked to Castel Sant'Angelo, and Dean and Castiel chuckled over their shared analogy.

Castiel tried to tell Sam that a map was not necessary, that he knew Vatican City like the back of his hand, but the nerd wouldn't have it. He wanted to take his tour his way, and Castiel learned quickly it wasn't worth the energy to argue.

Dean chuckled at the scene.

"What?" Castiel smiled at Dean's peaceful expression.

"Sam, he always gets like this. I don't know why he's studying law. His passion lays in books and dusty museums…history, you know? Always been his thing."

"I can remember when Balthazar was like that. I remember a time where he almost considered priesthood."

Dean snorted derisively, taking a quick chug of water to fend off any more comments. Castiel laughed.

"Oh yes, believe it or not. He was so intrigued by religion, even going so far as to take several extraneous theology classes at university."

"What stopped him? From becoming a priest, I mean."

Castiel looked at Dean for a moment with an indescribable expression.

"Vita."

Dean left it at that, not particularly caring about delving into Balthazar's icky past, as he was sure it was.

"Dean, why don't you follow Sammy inside, I need to sit down for awhile," his mother said, sitting on a nearby bench and shooing her son after the practically jogging Sam.

"Father," she called before Castiel could follow, "would you mind sitting with me? We haven't had the chance to talk properly."

"Of course, Mrs. Winchester." Castiel smiled, sitting next to her, grateful for the rest. He wasn't as young as Sam, or Dean for that matter.

"Please, call me Mary. Besides, it's Ms. Winchester now." Mary smiled, and Castiel smiled back, squinting when a reflection from a passing car shot into his eyes.

"So, Mary, what would you like to know?"

She laughed a little, "You don't take your time with anything do you?"

Castiel smiled again, but his lips thinned.

"All I wanted to know was how Dean was doing, how he's really doing. He's told me he goes to all of his lectures, takes notes and studies like a good student, but we both know that's not true." Her smile was playfully conspiring, as if she doubted everything her son had told her. For some inexplicable reason, that really pissed Castiel off. "Yes, I'm sure he runs off every day to go to bars, to fraternize with loose women, and ignore his calling. Doesn't he? That boy, I don't know what I'm going to do with him…if this fails, this whole transfer would be a waste of my-"

"Ms. Winchester," Castiel gritted out. She stopped her rant, startled at the normally soft spoken priest's sudden change in tone. "I don't know how Dean acted when he was home in America, nor do I want to know. But I can assure you that Dean takes his studies very seriously, and yes, he goes to every lecture and seminar, even ones not required of him." Castiel paused slightly before continuing in a softer tone, "I even believe that he is close completing his final vows."

Mary gasped. 'Could she truly not see it? The pureness that resides in Dean's soul, can she not see it the same as I see it?' Castiel thought. He frowned in disappointment.

"If you cannot believe in your own flesh in blood, cannot believe that they can walk the path of righteousness without sway, then who will be there when all others fail to do so? I will tell you who will be left," Castiel growled, standing when he saw Dean and Sam coming back to them.

"Il diavolo."

Mary didn't speak to Castiel for the rest of the week. If Dean noticed, he didn't comment. In fact, he spent more time with Sam and Castiel than with his mother, and if Castiel hadn't had that conversation with Mary, he was sure he would find their lack of communication disturbing.

Then there were several days where Sam would speak with Dean quietly, handing him slips of paper out of Mary's eyesight. To say Castiel was curious would be an understatement.

He confronted Dean about it, the day before his family was due to depart. Dean looked startled at first before smiling slightly, looking around furtively before gesturing for Castiel to follow him. They returned to Dean's room, and he pulled several folded papers out of his bible, holding them reverently before turning back to Castiel.

"They're letters…" Dean unfolded one, scanning through it once more, smiling further, "letters from my father."

Castiel sat in the chair at the corner by the window, intent on listening to Dean without interrupting.

"Mom, she…she doesn't talk to him anymore. Doesn't really talk about him that much either. She probably told you she was Ms. Winchester now, didn't she?" Dean did an excellent mockery of her haughty tone. "She's still married to him, legally you know, but she doesn't think of it that way." Dean sat on his bed, still looking down at the letters, biting his lip before continuing.

"He's in a mental hospital."

Castiel inhaled sharply, but didn't say a word. Dean looked up at him with something akin to gratefulness before continuing.

"Has been since I was sixteen. One day he just started acting strange, said he started seeing…started seeing demons. Well…everyone's a skeptic. I'm sure you have plenty of experience with that, Cas."

Castiel nodded once and Dean swallowed thickly.

"Of course people didn't believe him. Not even his friends. Sammy and I, well, Sammy was at that impressionable age, you know? He believed anything his daddy told him, bless him…" Dean stifled something close to a sob then continued again.

"One day, I came home and everything was quiet. Too quiet. I noticed things out of place, like someone had been looking for something. The cabinets were open, the cross in our kitchen window was on the floor…I guess a lot of things were on the floor that day, but I only remember that cross, just lying there on the linoleum.

I walked upstairs, following these scuff marks on the walls, thinking at the time that mom was going to be pissed. She liked her house to be spotless. But that's when I heard it, the most tortured scream I had ever heard in my life. I ran to my parents' room and threw open the door and…and…"

Dean stopped short, holding his face in his hands, back shaking in silent sobs.

"They had him strapped to a chair. His wrists were fucking bleeding. He was…he was screaming for them to stop, but they wouldn't stop…they wouldn't stop…Mom had fucking Sammy in the corner, had him watch while they did things to our father. I took him from her. I took him right out of that room, told him to forget about it."

The bible in Dean's lap slid to the floor, but Castiel made no move to pick it up, too stunned by what he was hearing to do much of anything.

"I called the police on them. Mom was yelling at me to hang up the phone, that nothing was wrong. That what they were doing was the right thing." Dean spat out those last words and Castiel flinched out of his stupor. He stood and moved to sit next to Dean, putting a supportive arm around his quaking shoulders. Dean leaned against his side, still stammering on, and at this point Castiel believed this part of Dean to be like a poison, and the only thing to do with poison was to get it out. All of it.

"Sammy was screaming and crying into the front of my shirt, but I didn't care, I moved out into the street to wait for the cops. Mom was yelling at us the whole time to get back inside, that this was a family matter. I couldn't even look at her. The cops got there in a few minutes, but those minutes were like a fucking lifetime. Sammy just kept crying and crying till he cried himself hoarse. The paramedics had to wheel dad out, he was in pretty bad shape…I don't know what they did to him, but it changed him. He seemed smaller than before. So breakable."

Castiel buried his face in Dean's short cropped hair, rocking him back and forth gently while breathing in his scent.

"There wasn't anything else I could really do. It was a small town; people were religious to a fault. But I just knew it wasn't that. I knew my father wasn't possessed by some demon. He wasn't any different from before. I think he just believed a little more than the other people in that town. My uncle Bobby, he was a cop, and I convinced him to get my dad out of there, get him to a hospital. And that's where things went south…"

Dean chuckled dryly, a harsh, humorless sound that was more like a bark than anything.

"I overestimated him. He got him out of the town alright, but checked him in to a mental hospital. I think at the time Bobby thought he was doing the right thing for him but…Damn it, my father wasn't crazy! He isn't crazy! You can believe in God and believe in the devil. How is it so hard to believe that what my father saw was real? How can they be so pious and yet so ignorant, I can't even-"

Dean finally broke, choking on his words and allowing tears to fall unbidden from his eyes to be soaked up by Castiel's cassock. Castiel could only offer gentle shushing noises and a consistent back rub in response. To be truthful, Castiel didn't know what to think. He didn't know Dean's father, how could he possibly know if he was possessed or just an extremely religious man? Castiel's own faith was getting in the way of supporting his closest friend, and it was the most frustrating thing he had ever experienced.

After a moment of silence punctuated by Dean's harsh breathing Castiel took one of the letters from Dean. "May I?" He asked quietly, and Dean only nodded, leaning fully into Castiel's side. Castiel read the letter, read all of the letters. His father, John he noted, wrote to Dean every week, and sent the letters to Sam's university mailbox to make sure Dean received them. He wrote to both of them, asking how they were, how was school, simple things like that. It was almost painfully normal. But the love, and above all, the clarity in the letters were shockingly evident.

When Castiel had finished reading them all, he didn't know what to think anymore. He folded each letter carefully the way they had been before and slid them back into the bible. Dean's reluctance to completely accept his faith made total sense now, and Castiel couldn't help but sympathize. He knew Dean was the better man. If something like that had happened to Castiel, he knew he wouldn't have pursued religion. Dean was strong. Castiel knew this, and it only made him respect him further.

"It doesn't matter what others believe, including you." Castiel spoke finally. He took Dean's chin in his hand, gently raising it so Dean would look at him. Dean's face was puffy, and his eyes were bloodshot, but thankfully the tears had stopped. "As far as I can tell, your father loves you, deeply and truly, and that's all that should matter, Dean." Castiel placed a gentle kiss on Dean's furrowed forehead.

"That's all that should matter."


Dean and Castiel said their goodbyes to Sam and Mary the next day, less so to Mary and more to Sam. Dean slipped Sam two letters to mail to their father, one from him, and one from Castiel himself. He wouldn't tell Dean what the letter said, only that it held good tidings.

Castiel couldn't wait till Dean's mother left Italy. In his eyes she was a religious woman, yes, but a horrible wife and mother. And he could only pray that nothing else happened to the Winchesters due to the woman's foolishness.

"Goodbye Sammy, take care." Dean huffed out into Sam's shoulder.

"Same to you, Dean. Don't let me come back here and find you in some kind of trouble." They both laughed at that, Dean promising that no such thing would happen, and that Sam could sleep well at night. Sam took one last look at Castiel and shook his hand firmly.

"Thank you Castiel, for everything. Don't be a stranger."

"And you too, Sam, I will always look forward to seeing you again."

Dean hugged his mother, and again Castiel was beginning to think Dean was some sort of saint to act so tenderly around his mother. Castiel merely nodded when she looked his way, notorious fake smile plastered to his face.

After they left, Dean and Castiel continued to frequent their assigned seminars, but were swiftly losing interest in the subject matter. They were more concerned with spending time together, a sort of mutual healing and learning as Castiel put it. Uriel had since backed off after his first altercation with the younger priest, grudgingly accepting Dean as Castiel's close friend and companion.

Dean also noticed how close they had become, especially after spilling his broken past to Castiel. They spent almost every waking hour together, ate meals together, and only separated at night to sleep in their respective rooms at the villa.

The way they acted around each other changed as well. They weren't shy anymore, Castiel used to demand privacy in the mornings and evenings, especially during his prayers, but now he allowed Dean to sit with him in the evenings, to read or study or simply talk. They talked about many things, many emotionally charged things as well. And soon their entire relationship evolved into something that both men were hard pressed to label.

They weren't strangers anymore, spending almost an entire year together with another warranted at least some level of familiarity. Friends also seemed like a weak term, friend was a word used to describe someone close to you, who knew you rather well but in most cases not as well as Castiel knew Dean and vice versa. What were they if not close friends? Brothers seemed like the wrong relationship as well. When Dean imagined Castiel in Sam's place, he just couldn't see it. Castiel was different. Special. And Dean wasn't entirely sure Castiel knew how important he was to Dean.

So when Castiel brought up the subject one night over dinner, Dean was at a loss for words.

"What is this, Dean…?"

Dean sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, taking in the all inclusive hand gesture Castiel used, a grand sweep of his arm that joined the two at the table and the charged air between them. Was he expecting Castiel to bring it up? Yes. But so soon? No.

Especially not with that face.

The face Dean saw when Castiel spoke with his obstinate brother, when he spoke with Uriel, when he spoke with anyone and expected the conversation to be particularly difficult. Dean didn't want it to be difficult.

"I think you know as well as I do what this is."

"But I don't, Dean! I-I've never…"

"You've never felt anything like this before."

Castiel looked up at him, startled, but the answer was in his eyes. A sort of quiet acceptance, which was more than Dean could ever ask of him.

"We-we've spent basically a year together now…This codependency could be mistaken for anything-"

"But it's not. You know exactly what this is."

"And you know why it can't be. How...wrong it is. How can we feel this way when everything we know, our very upbringing tells us we shouldn't?"

"We shouldn't, you're right, but that doesn't stop us from feeling the way we do!"

Castiel's eyes were wide, and at one point he had attempted to leave the table but Dean had grabbed his wrist. It was a tight grip, but nonthreatening. Dean sighed, his gaze dropping to Castiel's delicately pale wrist as he ran his thumb over his knuckles. Castiel drew in a shaky breath before relaxing in his seat once again.

"It isn't right…" Castiel whined slightly in the back of his throat at Dean's tone, "but that doesn't mean we can't feel this. There's nothing wrong with having feelings, right?"

"Correct, but-"

"And if God didn't want this to happen, didn't want us to meet he would have made that so."

"Who's to say that God is responsible for this? Who's to say that it wasn't the devil that has corrupted me?"

"No one can corrupt you, Cas. You're perfect…" Dean whispered, raising his other hand to smooth over Castiel's stubble covered and stubbornly set jaw. Castiel let out a deep breath when Dean's hand dropped and he let go of his wrist, "I won't force you, Castiel. If you want me gone, I'll go."

Castiel couldn't stand the way Dean looked in that moment. He looked deflated, pitiful, purely broken. And as he stood, he seemed smaller, shrunken away from his surroundings, un-illuminated as if God Himself had stolen the light from his eyes. The light that Castiel saw the first time he ever saw him. Every fiber in his being told him to stay with this man, to stay because he was clearly needed and yet…

"I think I…need space." Castiel gasped out, bringing his arms around himself, feeling as if the world was crushing him under a layer of ice and the cold would be present for the rest of his days.

For the first time in his life he had experienced love for someone other than his God. True or not, he did not know, but now he knew he had ruined it. Dashed it upon the rocks, and when he saw Dean's shattered expression, those brilliant green eyes lost the last of their light as they shut in pain.

Dean nodded once, moving to the door.

"I'll, uh, I'll go get my things…"

Castiel didn't move from his seat in the empty room, even when the kitchen staff came to clear the table and ask if everything was ok. To tell him that signore Winchester had left and why was that, and would he be back soon? The cook had prepared signore Winchester's favorite desert after all, and it would be a shame if he had to miss it. Castiel dismissed them without an answer, and when they left, when everyone had left, he sobbed quietly to himself in the moonlit room, the shadow of the crucifix in the window covering his shoulder.


/Sob.

Yeah, that last part was a bitch to write…hope you guys like it so far, second part will be coming soon enough!