I felt what I imagine was guilt pool at the depths of my being. It wasn't an unfamiliar sensation at this point, but it was most certainly unwelcome. Crowley had had his mitts at my throat for too long, and I had been far too willing to be puppeteered despite how much I had defied him. No matter how many times I struggled at the chain, in the end I needed his help like some worthless whelp. My friends deserved far better than this…he, he deserved the world.

I would willingly be his superman, as he put it…if only Crowley didn't know that Dean was a part of his own metaphor. Dean didn't need kryptonite to bend me to his will, he had the power within him already. Whatever he asked of me, when he set those brilliant, open orbs of emerald green on me, he could have it all and I could deny him nothing. They would entrance me, make me unable to look away, no matter how much they drained my will. It was a sweet torture, to lose myself to grassy hills, open fields and burning alien rock.
Green. If angels could have a favourite colour, it would be green. Green meant absolute harmony, and complete submission to beauty.

I kept myself from sighing as I found myself watching him yet again. One might call it a hobby of sorts. There was something satisfying about learning his real thoughts, ones he would never reveal to me, but to his precious family. I was not a spy; at least, I would never wish these people harm…I confess it was for my own selfish desires. For a long time, I had felt used and underappreciated, but still I came back for more. I would forever wonder why, yet I would not really care. As I saw his mask come down, heard his sultry voice pivot in anger towards his family, defending my honour, I truly felt the guilt leave me cold. This man…only a man, a human, was as loyal as any hound. I felt so undeserving, so unholy, that I had to hold back a choke.

I reached out then, my emotional barrier forgotten for the moment, and graced his cheek with my hand. He would not feel it, for I had hidden my presence, but I swear on my father's name that he shuddered. His eyelids fluttered briefly, and he seemed to look directly through me, his family forgotten for the moment. The ones called Bobby and Sam followed his gaze, Sam's hand flying to the gun at his hip, ready to shoot whatever threat his brother may have seen. But there was only me, yet it was not me…I hadn't been myself in a long time. I had never made a habit of hiding myself, but I was so ashamed. To face my friends at this time would be nothing short of unthinkable.

And yet, those eyes seemed to beckon me, even as Sam relaxed his hand, seeing no demon eyes or fluttering shadows. He should have looked harder, for I had revealed myself only to the one with kryptonian eyes. His soft pink lips parted as he inhaled quickly, for I was mere inches from his face. It was then I remembered his previous talks of 'personal space', but I found myself not giving a damn as his eyes darted to the Impala then back to me, the signal clear. I nodded curtly and opened my wings, gone with the wind to wait for him there.
He turned on his heels and rubbed his face tiredly.
"Dean?" Sam questioned, taking a step forward. His brow was furrowed with worry.
"Sammy, don't worry…I just need to go for a drive. Get some air and all that." He responded, with his usual larrikin face.
"This ain't over, y'here?" Bobby grumbled, retiring to his study and his customary bottle of 'hunters helper'. "We still gotta discuss whether we trust Cas or not."
"I know where I stand. I will always stand for him." Dean retorted, protectively. "He's done as much for us."
And with that, he marched out the door, a pair of puppy-dog eyes and an old mans curse words trailing after him.

"Dean." I breathed; my customary greeting.
"Hey, Cas." Came the reply as he swung his bowed legs into the front seat. "Long time no see…I guess you heard all that, huh." He seemed almost embarrassed, but he was no Catholic schoolgirl, I knew that much.
"I did." I looked at him then, and I knew from the look on his face that he could tell I was moved. Somehow, we two could communicate so much without words. "I…appreciate the sentiment."
He chuckled then as he shifted the car into gear, putting his foot flat on the accelerator. I wasn't afraid, to me, this was a slow means of transportation, although I would never speak ill of his precious 'Baby' to him.
We sat in silence for some time, simply enjoying the company, for what it was worth, until he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"So, I take it the others couldn't see you in there." He started, as if making small talk.
"No."
"Funny, because, I've been seeing you EVERYWHERE." He glanced sideways at me, drawing the truth from me with his greatest weapons.
"I…wanted to make sure you were safe, that's all. Since Crowley is alive, he'll be out for blood." I cast my gaze down towards my lap, as a guilty child would.
"Now now, my trench coat baby, what's with that face." He teased. "Was I not entertaining enough for you?"
"You were…plenty." I suggested, lamely. Dean smiled and reached for the radio, turning up the music. His hand was so close to my leg, and I closed my eyes briefly to compose myself when it ghosted past back to the steering wheel. They drummed rhythmically as he sang slightly out-of-tune to the 70's rock, but I didn't mind. It was the first time he had smiled in weeks – I knew, I had been at his side pretty much the entire time. I couldn't help it when the corner of my own mouth twitched up slightly, but I hoped he hadn't seen. I wanted to ask where we were headed, but he seemed content to just drive, with me at his side as always.

Dean dimmed the headlights as he pulled into a public dirt road. I stared in wonder out the window as we rounded the corner of a rocky cliff, overlooking the sea. It was vast and immense, and I could smell the distinct salty musk that wafter through the slightly wound-down window. Salt meant more to me than just purity, the sea or a popular seasoning – it was a smell I associated with Dean. The fact he had been the vessel for an angel said much about him, and despite his line of work, I considered him as pure as the insignificant white granules.
I turned to him then, meaning to question him further, but when I saw him, I froze. He was leaning back on the car door, his arm outside the wound-down window, looking back at me. I felt like we just looked and looked for hours, drinking each other in under the moonlight. Had I known what romance was, I would have had to admit…it was an impressive ambiance.
Dean cleared his throat and looked away quickly, and I followed suit. I wished I could read his mind, know what was going on upstairs; but what I did know is what was going on…downstairs. I panicked, for despite my trench coat, hiding something so erect was proving difficult. My leg tingled where he had touched it over half an hour before, and I was just about to leave before I sensed the seat shift in weight. Dean had shifted a little closer to me, and was looking quizzically at my obviously un-Cas-like body language.

"Cas?" He ventured, laying a hand on my shoulder. I groaned and had to bite my bottom lip to cut it short, dropping my chin down onto my chest.
"Hey, hey it's okay, buddy. I trust you, you know that."
I scrunched my eyes closed in shame. He was talking about Crowley, and here I was thinking of nothing else but being all alone with Dean. His hand hadn't moved, so he wasn't helping his 'don't-molest-me' case. Angels were sensitive at the best of times, just because we didn't show our emotions so openly, didn't mean we didn't have them. I was weak now, I knew it, and when an angels guard is down, emotion is free to flow.
He shook me then, grabbing my other shoulder and turning my upper body to face him. "CAS? Cas, what's wrong?" He thought I was in pain…if only he knew just how much I ached for him. I had often thought of revealing my feelings, but how could I…he was homophobic at best. I didn't want to be completely cast out of his life, so hiding it all was better than nothing.
Good god…he needed to let go of me, I was beginning to burn up, but still he shook me, calling out my name. I gasped, grabbing his wrists and holding them above his head, crashing him against the door. I was gasping for air, the effort of holding myself back was proving too great.

"What the hell, Cas?" He yelled, shaking his head, dazed. "I'm only trying to help YOU for once-"
His eyes looked hurt, and I didn't want to see them anymore. I had looked for long enough. I leaned in and forcefully took his lips in mine, smothering any words he might have had. I kissed him long and hard, his stubble rasping against my skin, taking out all my frustrations on him. I wouldn't live to regret this anyway. He struggled against my grip on his wrists, the strength of his two human arms no match for mine of divine power. I broke the kiss only long enough to gasp against his lips before plunging in again, my tongue invading his mouth like a desperate virgin…which is exactly what I was, I suppose. His yelp of surprise was stifled for the moment, and I managed to straddle his hips without much difficulty. I ground brazenly on top of him, taking what I needed. The smell of him, the taste…I couldn't get enough. My shameless sounds escaped with every motion as I rocked the car with the force of my lovemaking. It was the result of several years of sexual frustration, so much denial, leaping forth to declare its prize.

I could have died then and there, when he moaned my name, the sound of it wafting out of the car window and being lost in the sea air. His hips began to buck upwards to match my furious pace, and his mouth responded in time to my persistent licks and sucks. I let go of his wrists then, for I had decided we were wearing far too much clothing. He seemed to agree, as he pushed me away from him to tug at the offending garments. I removed my own pants, but before I could remove my unbuttoned shirt, Dean grabbed at the stringshoe tie and yanked me down again on top of him, forcing me into a kiss. I guess 'forcing' was the wrong word, because the sound that dominating gesture elicited from me was nothing short of animalistic. I growled and nipped hungrily at his neck, making my way down to his collarbone.
"Cas…" He breathed, his hands roaming my back. "How long?"
"Since the moment you showed me what it was like to be human."

I stopped my ministrations for the moment, and simply gazed down at him. His lips were delightfully bruised a dark red, and his chest rose and fell as if he had just sprinted ten miles. His brilliant eyes were half-lidded and clouded with lust, the pupil blown. It seemed that tonight, the midnight black of his lovemaking eyes would seduce me even more than his eyes of kryptonite. I wanted to see him come undone even more, to lose that stoic nature forever and accept me into him. I brought our weeping manhoods together, pumping them with a single hand while I pressed the thumb of the other into his mouth. He threw his head back and let out deep, breathy moans of pleasure as I worked us both to the finish, and the last thing we saw were each others eyes, then stars, then the radio fizzled out and we were left alone with each other's panting breath.