Author's Note: This is my first go at a SPN fic, and it's been written over the span of like a year and a half, in which my watching of SPN has waned- so some details and characters may be wonky, feel free to let me know. That being said, this fic was originally written as an explicit story, so chapters one and four (so far) have been edited as per FFnet's guidelines. If you're of age and wish to read the original work, it can be found on Ao3 under the same name (by OnceUponAWinchester).

That being said, thanks for reading!

Warning: This chapter contains suggestive adult themes and M/M action.

Dean was not really sure what to expect when he stepped beyond those severe fences. It had been two years. Two years of hard time, of desolation from the few people he loved and trusted. Sure, he'd managed to create a few passable relationships in his two years under lock and key, but his soul ached horribly for his brother, for Cas, hell, he even ached for Bobby's barbed affection.

Thinking back, Dean was surprised he didn't end up in prison sooner. After all the times his mug had been on the news with the words murder, kidnapper- hell, even bank robber; and he still made it so far. Sam had begged him to let the hunters help, to let Castiel help, Dean was sure he'd even heard Gabriel's name thrown in the mix. And despite the protests of one gargantuan little brother, one mouthy cripple and an angel with a chip on his shoulder- Dean was incarcerated.

He was positive that Castiel had ignored his wishes anyways. Who the hell gets two years with his rap sheet? He was pretty sure there were at least three charges of murder on it, maybe more, never mind everything else.

There was a grunt from beside him and he was broken out of his thoughts, green eyes drifted left and Dean was greeted with the sight of a friend. One of only a few he'd made.

Nathan Pierce wasn't a big guy. In fact, he was rather scrawny. He was about a head shorter than Dean, with mousey black hair and eyes the color of the sky. Nathan glanced over and tipped his head slightly.

"What? What the fuck you looking at man, do I got something on my face?" He snapped, rubbing his delicate nose. Dean couldn't help but smile at the defensive attitude and he shook his head, gazing across the yard and squinting slightly.

"Nah, dude. Your face is fine. I was just thinking." He murmured. Nathan rolled his baby blues and popped a cigarette between his lips.

"Stop starin' at me while you think. It's fuckin' creepy." He snapped, lighting the cigarette in swift motion of his arm. Shaking the match, he tossed it carelessly onto the ground. Dean wrinkled his nose as the smoke made it's way over, the scent creeping into his nostrils. Sulfur.

His eyes were drawn to the ground where the match smoldered and his stomach flipped for reasons he wasn't quite sure of. But being Dean, he swallowed the lump in his throat and turned his attention back to the fence. Nathan followed his eyes, then smirked slightly.

"I know what you're thinking. Two weeks man. You and me, just two more weeks." He said, his voice thick with excitement.

Nathan was almost done with a one year sentence for some sort of assault charge. Not a day after he'd entered the general population, Dean had been drawn to him. He tried to tell himself it was because the guy needed help, hell, Nathan had a personality and an ego that was entirely too big for his body.

But deep down, Dean knew it wasn't that. It was the way he looked. The way his blue eyes reminded him of Cas.

So Dean had protected him, ignoring the jeers of his fellow inmates. Sure, plenty of them thought that Nathan was his property, but as long as they thought that, the kid stayed safe. Dean had quickly made an impression on the prisoners, and it was one that earned him a decent amount of fear and respect.

Dean realized that he'd been silent a bit too long, and glanced Nathan's way.

"What are your plans?" He asked, his voice soft. Nathan considered it for a long moment.

"Strippers and whiskey." He finally replied, grinning at the older man. Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head, watching as Nathan sobered and gave a little shrug. "Nah man...my uncle owns an electronics store in Topeka...figured I'd go there with my tail between my legs and beg for a job." He paused, flicking the loose ashes off of his smoke and glancing Dean's way. "You?"

Dean opened his mouth to reply, when a voice interrupted him.

"Damn ese, you should know the answer to that question already." Alex spat, sitting across from the brunette at the picnic table. Alexander Olivera wasn't a large man, but Dean supposed that he was biased, having Sam for a brother was bound to make anyone appear small. Alex was a close second, he supposed, reaching about 6'3. And opposed to Sam's lean, athletic figure, Alex had spent most of his sentence bench pressing more than Nathan weighed. His square jaw was rough with stubble and his brown hair hung over his tan face.

Dean nodded in greeting, secretly glad for the interruption. He honestly didn't know what he was going to do, hell, he wasn't even sure he had a ride when he got out of here. Sam sure wasn't going to pick him up, not being wanted himself.

"He's prolly gonna go to the nearest city and buy himself a woman! Fuckin two years without sex, man, that's what I'd do." Alex nodded surely, causing Nathan to roll his eyes and turn to Dean, frowning a little.

"You didn't answer." He said softly. Dean glanced at him and sighed, leaning back and rolling his shoulders.

"Damn, dude...I really don't know."

—

The next week was the longest Dean had ever had the displeasure of experiencing. It seemed like every moment dragged on twice the time it should have, and he was sure it was only going to get worse. He couldn't seem to find anything that would hold his attention for more than a few minutes. He was experiencing this in spades as he lay on the stiff cot that had been his bed for the past years, his eyes squinting at the crossword in his hands. His eyes were staring at the text, unfocused.

"Hey ese, what are you doing?" Alex asked as he walked into the cell, picking at his orange jumpsuit. Dean glanced up, blinking a little.

"Crossword, why?" He mumbled, looking confused. Alex glanced over before sitting at the table in their cell. He shrugged, rolling his shoulders.

"It's visiting day." He explained. Dean shrugged, disinterested. He'd not had a single visitor (understandably so), since he'd been arrested. Alex seemed to know where his mind was going, because he grinned a little. "Cuz you know...warden said you had someone. Wanted me to send you down."

Dean blinked, his eyes widening slightly. He wouldn't admit to the spur of hope that jumped in his chest, propelling his heartbeat higher.

"Huh?"

"You got a visitor, man. Two pretty mamacitas!" Alex made a growling noise and Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes slightly, standing up. But he couldn't be irritated, not with the news he just got. He tossed the crossword on the table and grinned, heading out. He heard the latino man chuckle behind him and shook his head, making his way down to the visitor's room as fast as possible. He nodded to the guards and pushed his way through the doors, looking around.

It had to be Ellen and Jo. It had to. They were the only women in his life that would come see him here. His face broke out into a smile as he spotted them huddled at one of the white plastic tables in the corner. Jo spotted him and grinned, waving excitedly.

He rushed over and scooped both of them up into a bear hug, not caring about the verbal reprimand from the guard. However, when his tone changed from amused to irritated, Dean obediently stepped back. Jo beamed at him with affection in her eyes, her pretty face shining at him. Ellen gazed at him with a loving, maternal stare. He felt his heart swell slightly and sat down, waving for them to sit with them.

"What's up guys, why the surprise visit?" He asked, the smile never leaving his face. Jo practically bounced in her seat.

"Can't be just to see that smile again?" She replied in a flirty manner. Ellen glanced at her daughter and smiled faintly, before looking to Dean.

"We came to set up everything for when you get out." She explained. She wasn't showing it nearly as much as her daughter, but there was excitement in her voice. Dean nodded, gazing at them.

"So what's the plan? Who's gonna nab me?" Ellen met his eyes and smiled.

"Well, that hasn't been established yet..." She paused and leaned forward, her voice quieting. "Sam wanted to be the one, but we've convinced him not to."

Dean nodded, giving her a grateful smile.

"Thanks Ellen. He doesn't need to be anywhere around here." He murmured. Ellen nodded and reached out, taking his hand and squeezing it lightly.

"You look good, Dean."

Dean blinked and internally, he scoffed. He'd been imprisoned for two years, and forced to wear ORANGE for Christ sakes. There's no way he looked good. He gave Ellen a tight lipped grin and shook his head.

"Don't be hitting on me now, Ellen. Two years without physical contact and I'm liable to take you up on it." He teased with a wink. Ellen scowled and slapped his hand, pulling hers out of his grasp as Jo laughed at them.

Dean glanced at her and had a very peculiar thought.

Shouldn't he be fighting his suppressed libido with Jo? Ellen was like a mother to him, but he'd always had a soft spot for sweet little Jo and those kissable lips. And yet, even after two years of no sex, he found himself no more attracted to her than her mother.

He furrowed his brow and stowed that thought away for a later time, before giving the girls a grin and grabbing Ellen's hand again, pressing her for information on the whole gang.

The rest of the visit was pleasant. It calmed Dean to have contact with his family, with people who weren't associated with the prison system.

Jo and Ellen assured him that there'd be someone outside the gates to pick him up when he was released, and they left with a hug and two kisses to the cheek.

Dean walked back to his cell with a grin on his face.

—

If there was one job that Dean hated- it was laundry.

Unfortunately, in prison, it only got ten times worse.

He shoved a load of sheets into an industrial washer and groaned, wiping the sweat from his forehead. The heat and steam down here was horrible.

"Think fast!"

Dean swung around and was greeted with the sight of a water bottle hurtling towards his face. He barely had time to blink before it collided with his forehead and sent him stumbling back into the washer, blinking rapidly as he slid to the ground. A dull pain and a chilling coolness erupted on the point of impact and he blinked dumbly towards the point of origin.

Dean heard Nathan swear and smirked faintly as he scrambled over, bounding over a pile of dirty laundry.

"Fuck man, I'm sorry about that. You OK?" He gushed, falling to his knees near Dean, his blue eyes tinged in worry. "That was a stupid idea, I'm so fucking dumb sometimes."

Dean watched silently as Nathan continued to ramble on in a self deprecating spiral. Those clear blue eyes were concerned and guilty, and something inside Dean's chest clenched painfully as the color took over his mind. Suddenly, he just...needed contact.

Grabbing the front of Nathan's jumpsuit, he pulled the smaller man forward and kissed him hard on the lips. Nathan went slightly rigid, his eyes wide. Dean's brain struggled to catch up, and once he realized what he was doing, he began to pull away; wide eyed and panicking. He met Nathan's eyes for a long moment, and then Nathan was kissing him, pulling him closer by the back of the neck. His fingers were curled into the short hairs at the base of his head and it stung in a way Dean wasn't aware he'd enjoy.

Dean groaned faintly and wrapped his arms around the slight man, deepening the kiss. It was hot and hard; all teeth and tongue, desperation pouring from both of them. Nathan shoved him backwards, climbing onto his lap and straddling him. Dean's lips broke away due to the shove and his head struck the washer. He winced and then sucked in a deep breath at the new found pressure on his groin. He looked up at Nathan, eyes wide and dark with lust. The smaller man licked his lips and arched a brow.

"Damn. If I knew you swung this way, I'd have done this a long time ago." He stated, before beginning to kiss along Dean's jaw. Dean's stomach squirmed faintly and he opened his mouth to dispute his sexuality, to tell Nathan that he didn't swing this way; but his words were lost in a moan as Nathan discovered the sweet spot below his ear and latched on. He felt Nathan smile against his skin and couldn't help but shudder as he bit down, viciously marking the area.

Dean's head was stuck in a thick fog, the feeling of hands touching him, lips kissing him; a solid, warm body against his. It was too much for him to handle- it had been far too long since he'd had any action.

Nathan practically ripped his jumpsuit open, kissing down his chest.

That was it.

Dean grabbed Nathan's arms and pushed him back, hissing in pleasure as teeth scraped against his skin. Nathan looked at him, eyes wide and confused. Dean didn't say anything, he just tossed him lightly on a pile of laundry and hovered over him, eyes predatory and dark in arousal. Nathan's confusion and fear visibly vanished, and he shivered at the look in Dean's eyes. Dean couldn't help as a smirk took over his face and he leaned down, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips.

"Clothes. Off. Now." He growled into his cheek. Nathan gulped and nodded obediently, sitting up and dispatching of his jumpsuit and boxers. Dean watched him, confused by the arousal in his gut as he took in the view. Nathan was indeed scrawny, but not unattractively so, his skin soft and unmarred. He licked his lips and met Nathan's eyes as he continued to undo his jumpsuit with trembling fingers. His arousal was getting to him, the embers in his stomach growing into a bonfire. His breathing was erratic, but he saw that Dean was waiting for permission or guidance on how to proceed and let out a low growl.

"Do it already. Fuck." He hissed. Dean smirked.

"As you command."

—

Castiel.

Dean stared at the ceiling, stomach squirming uncomfortably as Nathan snuggled against him. Skin sticky with sweat, and the faint taste of blood in his mouth, Dean grimaced, disgusted with himself and the situation.

Nathan stirred after a few minutes, and ran a hand up Dean's spine. The hunter shivered a little, and Nathan shifted to look at him, wincing in pain due to the rough, but pleasurable treatment. He leaned close and nibbled at Dean's earlobe.

"How about that water, Winchester?"

—

Over the next few days, Dean found himself thinking of that night. His stomach always clenched uncomfortably when he did, but he managed to chalk it up to the pressure of prison and the fact he'd not had sex in a very long while. Unfortunately, even he was beginning to have his doubts about that when he found himself consistently going back for more.

Every day, for the rest of his sentence, Dean would ravish Nathan in some desolate place in the prison. It wasn't particularly pleasurable for him, nor was it loving. It was teeth and spit and sometimes even blood. But no matter what happened, Dean always found himself orgasming with staggering force, a single thought in his mind. Castiel.

Dean was actually rather surprised he managed not to moan his name while he thrust into Nathan. But what shocked him was the fact that he was having these thoughts about his best friend.

Dean fiddled uncomfortably with the book he was reading, feeling a frown drop onto his face.

Was Castiel still his best friend? He wasn't sure. Dean had occasionally received letters from Sam under a false name, and Jo had written him regularly. Hell, even Bobby had found the time to pen a note or two.

But he hadn't heard a single thing from Cas.

Dean knew he was alive, because Sam always mentioned him in passing, the two had spent a lot of time hunting in his absence, and Dean was glad that they had each other. But his stomach squirmed uncomfortably at the thought that Castiel might have moved on.

"Why the sour face, sugar nuts?"

Dean glanced up at Nathan's bizarre greeting and frowned, giving a shrug.

"Just thinking." He murmured, sighing and throwing the paperback aside. Nathan walked over and sat next to him, leaning against him lightly. Dean's stomach flipped in discomfort at the contact, but he didn't pull away.

"We get out tomorrow..." Nathan reminded him. Dean glanced at him and was rewarded with a smile. "We could...I don't know. Do something." Nathan laid a hand on his thigh and squeezed lightly. "It's a whole new beginning for us."

Dean nodded, looking away. He couldn't breathe. There was no way that he could tell Nathan that there was no new beginning, no "us." He just let it go, chewing on the inside of his lip. He had a feeling he'd made a terrible mistake. He didn't want to hurt Nathan, but this just couldn't exist. Nathan glanced at him and seemed to gather that something was wrong. However, he just squeezed Dean's thigh lightly, before standing and walking out.

Dean felt sick to his stomach as he watched him go, guilty with the knowledge that they had no future, that he felt nothing beyond friendship for him, that every time he came, Castiel's name was on the tip of his tongue.

He groaned and let his head fall into his hands.

"Son of a bitch."