A/N First, like everybody else here, I don't own Supernatural. The honor belongs to Eric Kripke. Second, this is my first fanfic. It could become more than a one-shot if anyone out there cares. I'm new at this and, it wasn't until I saw a lot of Destiel vids on You-Tube that I thought, hey, they might have something. Why does Cas look at Dean like he does and do everything for him? And why does Dean get so fuming mad at the angel? You only see him get that angry at Sam and people he loves. H-mmmm. Anyway, newbie at this so, please no flames. And, now, please, read and hopefully, enjoy!

The Winds of Change

Now…

Dean was stinking drunk. He and Sammy had fought the good fight and ended up with the short end of the stick too many times to count. This time wasn't any different. Sam was in the motel-from-hell room nursing his cuts and bruises. Dean asked him to accompany him, but his kid brother was back on the health food kick. Figured.

So Dean took his baby to the nearest bar, only a few miles from the motel, parked in the only available spot and cruised on in. By the time he was so drunk he thought he was seeing two of everybody, he'd gotten into a fight, won a few pool games and hit on every waitress and barmaid in the place.

Just his luck this was a country and western bar. The music playing on the old-fashioned juke box was crap. Like the song right now.

Two guys singing that sounded like night and day: one scratchy and reedy and the other smooth with a pronounced accent.

"To all the girls I've loved before…"

Dean wandered to the juke box; well, he stumbled, almost getting into another fight when he half-knocked some dude off his barstool. Dean shot him the glare that worked on everyone except Sam and Cas. Sam would back off and sulk, or maybe get surly right back. Cas would parakeet his head and study him like he was something under a heavenly microscope.

The dude raised both hands in a placating gesture and offered to buy Dean a beer, making him Dean's new best friend. "Any decent music on that thing?" Dean asked his BFF.

"You're not into C&W?" The dude was about an inch taller than Dean with dark, buzzed hair and brown eyes so dark they looked black, which gave Dean pause…but, hey, what the hell, what demon buys a hunter a beer?

Dean shook his head and the room spun. "Nope." He held up a hand and counted off his five favorite hits.

"80's fan. I like Maroon 5. Ever heard of them?"

Maroon 5, what a pansy name for a band!

"Can't say I have." Nor did he care to. What he wanted was, just once, to have some company, namely his Sasquatch bro here to get stinking drunk with him. He'd ganked a total of three witches today and it bothered him a little because technically witches weren't monsters, but these Twisted Sisters or Charmed Ones, or whatever the hell was vogue these days, had done some very bad things.

"Name's Chuck." Dean's new BFF was holding out a hand.

There were so many jokes he could make about the dude's name, but Dean refrained. Instead, he grinned the grin that never failed to make him look like the coolest dude ever and took one of the barstools. The bartender served them beers. After his third, Dean stopped counting. He was already buzzed to the gills, so how could drinking even more harm him? Probably Charlie Sheen said the same thing. For some reason, that struck him as funny and he laughed so hard he almost fell off his stool.

"Looks like you could use some fresh air," Chuck told him, chuckling right along with him. A drinking buddy with a sense of humor, what are the odds?

Dean let Chuck half carry him through the bar, out the door and exit into the parking lot. Dean found it hard to walk straight and he knew he'd blow any breath analyzer test ever devised. He'd just needed to let loose, blow off steam.

Chuck's eyes didn't light up even under the street light. "You got some weird-ass eyes, dude. Anybody ever tell you that?"

The dark eyes, under thick black brows, darkened even more, the pupils blowing out the color of the irises until his eyes swam in black. "Dean Winchester."

Even in his inebriated state, Dean knew he hadn't given the dude his real name. His hand slipped toward the gun tucked into his waistband. His reflexes were way off and now he cursed the idea of getting so drunk that his hunter's instincts were on the fritz. By the time he yanked out his gun, the demon tore it from his grasp and plunged the knife he'd been holding behind his back into Dean's shoulder.

Dean had been stabbed more times than he could count, but there was something about this wound that caused him to scream like a little girl. He stumbled back, wildly trying to find something to defend with, but nothing was available. He saw a couple come out of the bar, see him being attacked by a friggin' man with a friggin' knife and they ducked back inside. What was wrong with people? Seriously!

The demon slashed at him and Dean was only able to avoid being stabbed again because he tripped over his own feet. He sprawled on the pavement, pain shooting up into his hip. He rolled and rolled, then came to his feet, his body shaking from adrenalin and pain. Now he was even dizzier. Why did it hurt so much?

"Dean."

The gravelly voice was never more welcome. Dean put his hand up to staunch the blood leaking from his shoulder as Castiel placed a hand on the demon's forehead and fried its ass. Score one for the good guys.

Dean suddenly felt weak and he dropped to his knees. "Cas…a little help here."

Cas was immediately by his side. "Are you all right, Dean?"

"Hell, no, I'm not all right! A demon just stabbed me, and…" He raised wide, frightened eyes up to Cas' stark blue gaze. "I…don't feel so good…"

Cas caught him. Dean landed with his cheek against the warmth of the angel's chest and the strangest feeling overcame him, as if his body was being sheltered by…He swallowed hard as he saw what must be Cas' wings, furling about him, holding him. He must be hallucinating. He fought the urge to touch them as Cas gripped him under the arms. There was the sound of air being displaced and they rose from the ground. Dean stared in amazement and fear. He'd seen vids of eagles soaring, gripping their prey in their talons, wings spread wide to catch the air currents. Cas had no tail to serve as a rudder, but the angel was flying, holding Dean as if he weighed nothing. The great ebony wings were huge and seemed to mirror the light of the moon and stars. Dean white-knuckled it. He hated flying!

"Dean, hold on. We'll be there soon."

Even in his half drunk-half pain-induced state, Dean knew he'd never seen Cas' wings except the first time they met. And, usually the angel just zapped him somewhere with the speed of sound. Why was this taking so long? He swallowed hard as he looked down as Cas swooped past a cloud bank. Did he have to fly so high?

"Hey, Cas. I can see your wings," he drawled, wondering why he felt so light-headed.

"Just hold on, Dean." The angel's voice was intense.

Dean felt his eyelids droop. Just the sound of Cas' voice put him at ease. He let his eyes close. When he opened them, Cas was just setting down on earth and Dean was able to see his wings more clearly. They were beautiful and he felt humbled somehow, because he instinctively knew, this was something an angel, not even his angel, revealed to a mere man.

He frowned. Why was he thinking Cas was his angel? Cas had told him once when Dean smarted off to him, that he wasn't his guardian angel, and yet, that's all the angel ever seemed to do. All Dean had to do was call and Cas appeared.

"To all the angels I've ever known," Dean was still drunk and the C&W song still clung in his mind like cobwebs.

He didn't do his usual grumbling when Cas switched from the under-arm thing to a groom's carry. He chuckled. He really was crocked.

Cas carried him to a bed and laid him down. "I need to remove your shirt, Dean."

He helped Dean sit up and gently pulled his T-shirt over his head, then, just as gently, pushed him prone on the bed. Cas tilted his head as he examined Dean.

"I'm glad you came along…" Dean sang.

"Dean, you have a fever."

Dean closed his eyes when Cas laid a hand on his forehead. Hit me with your best shot, he thought, expecting the usual healing from his angel…dammit, the angel! When he didn't feel any better, he opened his eyes. Cas was staring at him, awareness dawning in those cobalt blue eyes. He was always staring at him, so, nothing new there, but the intensity made Dean squirm a little.

"Why didn't you heal me, Cas?"

"I…can't." Cas examined his hands as if they offended him. "The demon must have used a spell dagger."

Spell dagger? Sounds ominous.

"What exactly does that mean, and don't sugar coat it, Cas."

"Why would I coat anything with sugar?" Cas cocked his head as if Dean was the most fascinating speck of humanity he'd ever met. "A spell dagger can only be forged…"

"Let me guess, in the fires of Mt. Doom?"

"No, Dean. In Hell, by Satan."

"Lucifer's gunning for me? Why does that not surprise me?" Dean wiped his face. It was hot and streaming with sweat. It felt like he was floating in a hot tub without all the benefits.

"Satan and Lucifer are not one and the same."

"So, what do we do? Conjure him and have him remove the spell?"

Cas looked at Dean as if he couldn't believe he was serious. "Conjuring Satan would be a mistake, Dean."

"So, this is how I go out? Pig-stuck by a demon with Satan's letter-opener?" Dean felt his strength ebbing in an alarming way. "No friggin' way! No way am I going out like that!"

Cas put a cool hand on Dean's temple. "You need to be still. The dagger was forged in the fires of hell and stained with the blood of Satan."

"We don't have to pull a Frodo and go there, do we?" Dean could barely keep his eyes open. The lids were so heavy and puffy, they hurt. "Been there; done that," He added, his voice laced with weariness.

Cas pressed his lips to Dean's fevered ones. Dude on dude or angel on dude, but, it actually felt nice. Cas' lips were cool and he cradled Dean's face in his hands. His wings came out, forming a cocoon about Dean as Cas remained there, his lips pressing against Dean's. He opened his mouth and blew into Dean's, causing the hunter to quiver and lash out. But Dean soon acquiesced and he breathed in the angel's breath, his bare chest rising and falling. Something fell on his collar bone and Dean saw it sparkle and realized it was a tear drop. One single drop. His angel was crying.

There was a sound as Cas furled his wings and they disappeared into the ether. Dean sighed and Cas broke the contact, taking his lips that had grown so warm against Dean's, away. Dean wanted, with everything in his being, to pull the angel back, to encircle his waist and have him hold him because Dean knew something was terribly wrong with him. How else could he explain away his actions? They were what a dying man did. Make his peace. Say what needed to be said. Like that damned song.

"For helping me to grow. I owe a lot I know," he slurred the words of the song. His tongue was dry and it felt like his throat was closing up. And his chest was so tight…

"Cas."

"I'm here, Dean."

"Is…this it?"

"No!" Cas' voice echoed like thunder and Dean could've sworn there was a flash of lightning. "What is this Frodo you spoke of?"

"Just…a character in a movie. The ring of power can only be destroyed by the fires it was forged in. Mt. Doom…" He coughed, put a hand up to wipe his mouth and his fingers came away tinged with blood.

Cas' head tilt was almost endearing and Dean knew he was slipping into hallucination city. "Anyway…to make a long story short. Frodo was a hobbit who turned into an awesome hero by taking a journey and overcoming all odds, to return the ring to Mt. Doom."

"Dean, while I am gone, you must fight. You must fight as you have never fought before, do you understand me?" Cas leaned over so he could look Dean in the eye. "I think I was able to counteract the poison…for now. I healed the wound, so you won't bleed. I… must go."

"Hold on!" Dean winced at how hoarse he sounded and how panicky. "Cas, you're just going to leave me… like this?"

"I…have to, Dean." Cas unfurled his wings. "I have done everything because of you, Dean. I have shown you my wings, the most intimate thing an angel can do. I have abandoned my brothers, stained my grace, all…for you." He cocked his head, and added softly, "Have you never asked yourself why?"

"Because we're friends," Dean muttered. He admitted he was feeling a little better. Maybe he wouldn't croak after all.

"We are more than friends." Cas seemed stung.

"Brothers," Dean amended and saw the lightning flash in the angel's eyes this time. "What do you want from me?"

Cas leaned closer until his breath fanned over Dean's face. "I want you…to live. To…be…" Dean could tell he wanted to say more, but for some reason it was hard for the angel to find the right words. Was Cas trying to say good-bye, because he really sucked at it.

"Personal space, Cas." When Cas drew back and sat on the corner of the bed, Dean felt bereft. "Maybe we should bring Sam and Bobby in on this."

"You're at Bobby's," Cas said and his voice held emotion like Dean had never thought possible. "Before I go, I'll fill them in."

"Go?"

"To the fires of Mt. Doom, Dean, if I have to." With one last lingering gaze that crushed all the air out of Dean's lungs, Cas turned and left the room.

Dean turned his head into the pillow and mumbled, "The winds of change are always blowing, and every time you try to stay; the winds of change continue blowing and they just carry you away."

He flipped over on his back again and gazed up at the ceiling. His wonderful buzz from the booze was gone and he felt melancholy as hell. Cas was gone…again. Damn country songs! Always talking about cheating and redneck stuff…about losing the one you love. Right now, he felt sadness overwhelm him. Cas hadn't been serious? Was his angel honestly, friggin' planning on going into Hell and duking it out with Satan?

He bolted upright, weaving, staggering, into the other room. Sam and Bobby had their heads together over his brother's laptop. They looked up and Sam rushed to his side.

"Dean!"

"Sam, where's Cas?"

"Gone," Bobby said and the look in his eyes said it all.

"CAS!" Dean paced and closed his eyes and even held his hands like he was praying. "Cas-tiel, you get your holy ass back here. Right now! I won't let you sacrifice yourself for me! Do you hear me, Cas?"

He gasped and Sam caught him as he fell. "Dean!"

Hold on, Dean. You promised. You promised your angel you'd be here when he gets back. God, let him come back. Please.

Dean felt Sam and Bobby take his arms and legs and carry him into the bedroom. They placed him on the bed. Bobby pulled up a chair and Sam sat on the bed.

"You gotta stop him," Dean said, panting.

"Settle down, son." Bobby easily restrained Dean as he struggled to rise.

"We can't, Dean. He's already gone." Sam's big puppy dog eyes were swimming in unshed tears.

"No, he—he can't. You…don't understand…"

Sam laid a hand on Dean's arm. "I do understand, Dean. I've known for some time."

"Yeah, ya idgit," Bobby confirmed. "It's obvious to everyone but you."

"Wha-?" Dean's head was spinning. "You can't mean…"

"Yeah, macho man, I mean it." Sam wiped sweat from Dean's face with a soft cloth. "You love Cas and Cas loves you."

Dean shook his head, in major denial. "He's a dude, well, an angel, but a dude angel, and I'm into, well, not dudes!"

"If it was any other guy, I'd call ya gay, son," Bobby said gently. "But this thing between you and Cas, well, it's something new and you can't put any other spin on it than love."

Lust? Dean immediately discarded that idea. What he felt for Cas transcended that, although, that kiss—that soul-wrenching, overwhelming lip lock, breathing in Cas' breath… He felt his skin flush at the memory.

"Dean, Sam and I are working on this. We want ta give Cas any help we can." Bobby patted Dean's hand. "You hang in there, kid. You need anything, just call, okay?"

Sam reluctantly got up and followed Bobby out of the room. Dean lay in the bed, watching the ceiling spin until he closed his eyes. A tear slid out of the corner of one eye.

"You better come back to me, Cas," he said in a broken voice. "My angel…"

To be continued…?