Disclaimer: I don't own SPN.

Seriously, listen to 'Trench Coat Angel' by Tyler Ward while reading this fic because that's what this is loosely based off (albeit this is a much darker interpretation) and that song is Destiel if I ever heard one.

"ARGH!"

Dean punched the brick wall next to him. The damn Mark on his arm was pulsing, sending waves of fury through him that were only intensifying the anger he felt. How could he keep living like this? How could he stay around everyone with this constant, burning rage that never went away? How could he be with Sam and Cas when he had constant nightmares about brutally murdering them in the bloodiest, goriest ways? His last dream had involved him violating Cas in the worst kind of way and he'd woken up in a cold sweat, retching and panting, unable to even look Cas in the eye all day.

"Dammit!" He grabbed handfuls of his spiky hair, tugging in an attempt to alleviate the whirlwind of thoughts and bloodlust surging through his mind and body. But this did nothing to help. Images of Sam, his guts spilled everywhere and hazel eyes open and blank, flashed before his eyes when he closed them. Sagging against the wall, Dean opened and closed his eyes again but was now greeted with flashbacks to his dream about Cas. And although thinking about hurting Sam in any way felt like a punch to the gut, it was what he had dreamed about Cas that really made him feel sick and agonised.

How could he even think about doing that to Cas? He knew why he was having the dreams. It was the fucking Mark, twisting what he felt for Cas into a dark, perverted version of what he truly felt and wanted to do to him. He'd felt like that for years – ever since Purgatory, at least. But as if he was ever going to tell Cas that. His angel (and when he'd started thinking of Cas as his angel, he had no idea) had been through so much crap already and he didn't need to put up with Dean's sorry ass on top of it. How could his amazing angel ever want him anyway? Who could ever want a broken shell of a man, who was so worthless that he would sacrifice himself for even a stranger?

"Dean! Stop! Please, stop! You're hurting me!"

Dream Cas' tortured wails stabbed his ears. Dean covered them in an attempt to escape but all he could hear was Cas crying and sobbing. All he could see were blue eyes, dulled with pain and trauma and betrayal. All he could feel was the pain he was inflicting on his angel, while a sick little part of him enjoyed it – enjoyed the complete power and dominance he had over Cas, who he knew would never hurt him.

"MAKE IT STOP!"

Dean's fingers scrabbled for his gun. He couldn't do this anymore! So what if he became a demon again? At least then he wouldn't have to be tortured by dreams of Cas and Sam anymore!

"Dean!" a familiar voice called. Dean froze, praying to every deity out there that it wasn't who he thought it was. Slowly turning around, his stomach dropped when he saw that it was indeed Cas who had said his name. His angel was standing under a nearby street light in the chilly mist, face still bloody but no longer bleeding. That was the whole reason for Dean even being out here; overwhelmed, he had lashed out and punched Cas in the face until Sam finally managed to pull him away. Horrified, Dean had escaped as soon as he could, haunted by the image of Cas' bruised, broken face and by his recurring, awful nightmares. And now his angel was here and what was Dean supposed to do?

"Cas," he whispered. When Cas took a step towards him, Dean jumped back and then turned to get the hell out of there before he could snap and hurt Cas even more – or give in to his dreams and break Cas completely.

"Dean! Wait!"

"Leave me alone, Cas!"

"Dean, give me a minute –"

"Don't you get it? You can't be around me! Fuck off!"

In the blink of an eye, Cas was by his side; hell, if he didn't have his wings, Dean would've sworn that he'd flown over. Cas grabbed Dean's arm, pulling him around to face the angel.

"Listen to me, Dean."

Dean made the mistake of looking into Cas' eyes. Suddenly, all he could see was the dead emptiness inside them as he had his brutal way with him, and the pain that flared when he betrayed his angel's trust and beat him up.

"Go away, Cas!"

"Dean –"

Dean whirled around, fist reared to strike. And if Cas had cowered back or tried to defend himself, Dean might have given in to the Mark's urging and punched the crap out of him again. But instead, Cas squared his shoulders and raised his chin defiantly and Dean managed to beat back the Mark's influence long enough to lower his fist and turn away. Suddenly overwhelmed by the emotions crashing over him, Dean let out a long, tortured howl and sagged in Cas' arms, grabbing large fistfuls of the beige trench coat to try and hold himself up. Cas easily supported him, holding him close as Dean cried and yelled and let out every bit of anger and pain and fury that he had been bottling up.

"It's okay, Dean," Cas said soothingly. He took a step back until his back was against the brick wall and then he slid to the ground, taking Dean with him. He arranged them so that Dean's head was resting against his chest and he could wrap his arms around Dean, to hold him even closer.

"W-Why?" Dean forced out. "Why, Cas? Poison…'m poison. Fuck ev'rythin' up."

"You are not poison, Dean." Cas began to stroke Dean's hair. The other man wouldn't admit it but it felt nice and helped to push his rage back.

"I am, Cas. Beat the fuck outta you…hurt everyone else around me…and the dreams…" Dean squeezed his eyes shut but opened them again when horrid pictures assaulted his mind. "The dreams…dream 'bout killin' Sam and…and hurtin' you. God, Cas…so horrible…"

He didn't even realise that he was shaking until Cas held him tighter. When Cas pressed a very soft kiss to the top of his head, he froze. What did Cas just do? What was he thinking?

"What do these dreams entail, Dean?"

Dean shook his head violently. It was bad enough that Cas was putting up with his crap now – he wasn't going to heap more pain on his angel!

"Dean. I'm not fragile. You can tell me."

Dean drew in a deep, shuddering breath.

"Mark…" he mumbled. "Takes my – my – how I f-feel about you…fucks it up completely…so horrible, Cas…oh, God…wanna be sick…"

Cas momentarily paused his combing of Dean's hair but quickly resumed as though nothing had happened.

"So you have feelings for me," he said neutrally. After a moment, remembering the kiss that Cas had just given him, Dean managed to nod softly. "And the Mark twisted them into you doing unthinkable acts to me. When were you going to tell me?"

"'Bout the dreams or feelings?"

"Both."

"Never. Don't do chick flick moments. And you don't need to know 'bout the dreams."

Cas' fingers curled in Dean's hair.

"I am not delicate, Dean. If you had told me about the dreams, I would have been more than happy to help. And why wouldn't you tell me about your feelings? Surely you knew that I felt the same way."

"Doesn't matter," Dean laughed darkly. "Not allowed to have you. Means happiness. And I can't have happiness. I fuck everything up, Cas – hurt everyone around me. Couldn't do that to you. Couldn't let you get hurt. 'Cause – 'cause if I say I like you, that makes it real. And that means it can hurt me and make me fuck up if I lose you, like when I lose Sam."

By the way Cas' arms tightened almost painfully, Dean knew that he must be scowling.

"So I get no say in this?"

"Better that way. Don't wanna hurt you. The Mark…the dreams…me being a total fuck-up…I break everything I touch, Cas."

"You can't break something that is already broken."

Those words were a punch to the gut. Dean looked up at Cas, his mouth open, and saw that Cas' blue eyes were glazed with pain.

"You're not broken, Cas!" Dean snapped. "You're awesome! You're loyal as fuck and the only reason all this crap happens to you is 'cause you stick around with us. Should've just said 'yes' to Michael like I was meant to. Then you'd have your grace and Heaven wouldn't hate you –"

"And I would be an emotionless soldier, programmed to follow Heaven's every order," Cas snapped. "You taught me free will, Dean. You and Sam. And we may have made plenty of mistakes but that is just part of having the free will to make your own decisions."

"But I've fucked everything up," Dean whispered. "Hurt you so bad…all I ever did was treat you like a tool. Called you down when we needed you and then forgot about you. Like when you were fighting Raphael…we didn't even care. We just called when we needed help. Hell, we left you with a demon rather than taking care of you when you lost your marbles. And then I kicked you out of the bunker because a dickbag angel told me to."

"And I forgive you," Cas said simply and those four words shouldn't have caused that much pain but they did. Something seemed to stab Dean right in the heart. "All of the pain and betrayal…all is forgiven, Dean. I forgave you a long time ago because I have loved you for years. And from what I understand, you forgive those you love."

Dean closed his eyes. And this time, he didn't see anything.

"Don't deserve you," he murmured. "Too good for me, Cas. We'd never work. I'd fuck up and hurt you like I do to everyone. I'm toxic to you. And the Mark won't stop till I break you."

"Love is the opposite to hate." Cas cupped Dean's face with one hand, the other still tangled in his hair. "I believe that our love will be enough to fight the Mark's influence. I love you more than I have loved any being in all of my existence, Dean. I will never leave you and you will not break me. Stop fighting and allow yourself to be happy for once."

What had he done to deserve such a brilliant, perfect angel? Cas' words seemed to break down any resistance Dean had in that moment and, unable to stop himself any longer, he leaned up and finally captured Cas' mouth with his, ignoring the blood that stuck to his cheek. His angel's lips were soft and plump and this was way better than any fantasy he'd ever had and as his old confidence came surging back and he swung a leg over Cas' lap to straddle him, he found that he couldn't feel the Mark urging him to defile Cas like in his dreams. That realisation made him shift even closer to Cas, fingers tangling desperately in that dark, messy hair, clinging to Cas as though his angel was a lifeline.

"Please," he panted when he pulled back for air. "Need you, Cas. Need you so bad."

Cas, with wild sex hair, flushed cheeks, bright eyes and swollen lips, nodded and reached up to cup Dean's face and pull him down for another kiss.

"You can have me, Dean. You can have me in any way you want."

Dean jumped up, pulling Cas up with him, and then he wrapped his arms around Cas and hugged him tightly. Cas reciprocated, resting his chin on Dean's shoulder.

"Back – back to the motel," Dean said. "Need you – but not here. Just – if I hurt you – if I'm causing you pain –"

"You won't. I trust you, Dean. I trust that you won't ever hurt me in that way. Now, let's return to the motel room and let me love you like you deserve."