Okay. This is my first attempt at a Supernatural fic, so be kind please. It's Destiel, cause they're mah favessss. Um. Yeah. Bobby is [still] alive, other than that I guess you're all caught up?

Enjoy. =]

"Why don't we head to Hawaii, huh? We always said we were going to. Why not now?" Sam was trying to cheer him up. It wasn't working.

Dean shot him a look. "Demons don't exactly stop and go on vacation when we want to."

"Look," Sam huffed. He was good at that, huffing. "Ever since Cas died, or whatever, you've been acting like you've got a cactus up your ass. Which I get, alright? I've know you since you were 4. I know your favorite color and your least favorite food, and I know what you think most of the time."

Dean said nothing, just took a long swill of his beer.

Sam continued. "That being said, I know that you guys…got each other. He was like our brother. But…he wasn't family, Dean. He just…helped us out sometimes. And he left, I get that, I do, but dude, you've gotta cheer up. Cause you haven't stopped drinking for weeks and I'm not sure I can take much more of this crap…"

"Are you done with that Hallmark movie moment? Or is everyone else going to come in for the intervention too?"

Sam sighed, threw his beer bottle away, and loped up the stairs to sleep.

As much as Dean had hated the son of a bitch, especially at first, he'd always felt this pull between him and Cas. Almost like it was with Sammy when they were little. But, if his subconscious mind was any indication, this bond he and Cas shared wasn't the least bit brotherly. Still, that's the only way he could bring himself to describe it. Brotherly. Familial.

So he had pleaded to Cas that way, needing him to believe in the goddamn Philadelphia city motto so he wouldn't open purgatory. Dean had rarely flat out asked him for anything personal. In fact, he usually just pleaded with him to save some schmuck, or get him to magic his own ass out of there so he could save more schmucks. But he was calling in the only favor he liked to pretend he had: their bond. He asked once, for one chance.

He'd waited. And Dean hated waiting. More than he hated when Sammy forgot the pie. And Sammy forgot the pie a lot.

It rankled him that Cas and Crowley were now…butt buddies. Even Gabriel would be better than Crowley and that damned Angel had killed him 400 times. The one person besides Sam and Bobby he'd truly trusted, Dean had actually caught himself believing Cas was the light that would…save him, so to speak. Bullshit.

And then Cas had left him.

He'd opened the damned gates to purgatory, no pun intended, and then walked himself into a fucking lake.

Which just felt like a swift kick in the soft spots.

Realizing he had finished his beer a while ago, he quietly exited the house, as not to wake Bobby and Sam, and walked into the cold night air.

Dean kicked at the dirt. Whenever anyone asked, he told them he didn't have a home. That he was a rambling man. A desperado. But this place? Bobby's old junk yard? This was it for him. This would be his home one day.

Home…

He looked up to the stars. It wouldn't be home without his…without Cas. He didn't want to admit it. But he knew it.

Dean had never looked at a guy as any way other than just another dude. At least, not until Cas. And it had weirded him out for a long time. At least, until he saw Cas and Crowley together and a jealousy had sliced through him. That's when the pleading had happened.

"Cas?" he spoke to the night's bright stars. "I know that…that I'm not perfect. I'm not some…obey-er or…believer or…whatever. But neither are you, okay? Neither are you. I…I need answers here, Cas. I'm climbing walls here, and…and I need you to come back. To pull all that Angel-crap and come back to me. Okay? I'm beggin' you here…please. I…"

He paused. His throat tightened with the need to cry. Rarely did Dean Winchester cry. When his dad died, sure. When he got out of hell, sure. When Sammy went nutso, who wouldn't? But crying over another dude wasn't something he did. Hell, he wasn't even someone who cried over girls.

Of course, he didn't necessarily know who he was. Which was also something he wasn't really ready to admit yet.

"Look, Cas," he began again. "I'm living proof life sucks. That there are wars and monsters and evil shit, and you know, most days I'm actually not completely awful at hiding it. But…I'm not used to needing anyone, Cas. And I…I need you. I…" He choked his words back. "You're not dead. I know it. I can…feel it in my gut. And I know you don't believe in my instincts or whatever. But I…I don't know what I'm gonna do without you, okay? And I'm...not sure that I…we…can do all this without you…"

Giving up, Dean looked down at his feet, heaved a sigh, and went back inside for another beer.

Cas felt nauseous. Or rather, his vessel felt nauseated. He supposed that was the correct term. Although, this was not just a vessel anymore; it was simply him.

He sat and stared down at Dean from above. Cas had always liked this view of his friend. In person, Dean was such a…a powerful being. He was someone you couldn't ignore. But from up here, he looked more vulnerable, more…obtainable.

Of course, the view from the top of a pile of cars was not the same as the view from Heaven, but it was a comparable substitute given the current situation.

As Dean spoke, Cas had to do everything in his power to not go down there, to not grip him tight and—

And do what? It wasn't as if he could actually do anything anymore. He was merely…Cas, the Angel who had fallen.

He climbed down to the ground and breathed deep.

This was the worst part of falling. Not being able to go back to his family.

Not the Angels, mind you, but the Winchesters.

When Anna fell, she had feigned not knowing she'd been an Angel. Which Castiel had believed. Now he knew better.

You remember everything. Perhaps it's a reward, so you don't have to start completely fresh. Perhaps it's a punishment, so you will forever regret falling. Whatever the reason, Cas remembered all of it. All of his orders. All of his…regrets.

Seeing Dean again, this time drunk and…depressed. Pleading. It did something to Cas. He felt…Well, he supposed that's just what it was. He was feeling. And truth be told, he didn't care for it too much. It was…disconcerting, painful.

A smart man would consider this all a second chance. He had always been considered loyal but Castiel believed himself to be intelligent, at least somewhat.

So here he was, standing in the middle of Bobby Singer's junk yard, trying to figure out what to do.

"I swear I'm sorry for what I did, Dean Winchester," Cas murmured to himself. "Just…one more chance. That's all I'll ever ask for…"