AN1: In my head this takes place somewhere in S6, where exactly I couldn't tell you, oh, except it's after ep3.
AN2: Written off the cuff for my beautiful Arthur.

It was cold. And wet. Huge glops of thick, wet snow plopped noisily to the ground and against his precious Impala; the sound like the hollow echo in his heart. Nothing was right in his world. He wasn't sure it ever could be; he'd lost too much and fought too long. He didn't think he could do this anymore, but it was all he knew. He was a Winchester and Winchesters fought, even against the odds, especially against the odds. But that knowledge brought him little comfort tonight with the road pounding rhythmlessly under the tires, wet splashes hitting the undercarriage, and nowhere in mind to go and nothing to hunt. Nights like this his mind wandered; wandered to things that might've and could've been. Damn-it, when had his life become so complicated? When had his feelings become so complicated? He was Dean Winchester, womanizing man-whore. He didn't waste time thinking about feelings and the future; hunters didn't usually have much of one, so there was no point. But now… things were different, he had a family, even a home of sorts, or the closest he'd had since their mother's death- not counting his baby, even he could admit there was a difference between four welcoming walls and four soothing wheels, not that he'd trade either. He wasn't built for feelings; not the kind he was having. Outside the snow was getting thicker and the road slicker and his vision blurry. He refused to admit that it was anything other than the snow clouding his vision. Why did he have to… he couldn't say it, even in his mind. It would make it all too real. Family. Even if he admitted it, he wouldn't risk that.

He was so focused on his thoughts and the ever increasing snowfall that he missed the soft rustle of wings as Castiel appeared in the passenger seat. "Hello, Dean," his voice the rustic tones of earth and the warming sun.

Dean jumped at his angel's voice pulling the wheel ever so slightly to the left before straightening it again. "Damn-it, Cas. Don't do that when I'm driving," Dean snapped lightly, though his heart wasn't in it. He missed the angel, when he wasn't around, and his company was something he cherished.

"I am sorry, Dean. I did not mean to surprise you."

"It's okay, man. Just flutter louder next time." Dean smiled at his angel as he spoke. Somehow, even when they first met and Cas was the fearful Angel of the Lord, he'd always made Dean's heart feel a little lighter with his presence. He tried to shake off where that idea was leading him. "How'd you find me, anyway?"

"Sam. He accessed your phone's GPS."

Dean chuckled. "Of course, he did." He looked sidelong at the angel and cocked his head in a mirror of his angel's trademark behavior. "But it doesn't explain what you're doing here."

"I wished to see you," Cas said without further explanation.

"I thought you didn't have time for friendly visits," Dean snorted, "what with the war and all."

Castiel looked out the window at the falling snow. "I have come to realize there are certain things one must make time for."

"Cas, that almost sounded like you actually missed me."

"That is, in fact, what I said," the angel agreed.

Dean's brain was trying to process the angel's words, trying not to read more into them than what was meant. It was only the sound of a blaring horn that pulled him out of his reverie. "Son of a…" He sighed and pulled the Impala off to the side of the road. He knew when to admit defeat to his body, at least when lives or the fate of the world didn't hang in the balance.

"Dean, you are not alright." The angel cocked his head and examined his hunter. His face was red and his eyes were puffy and there was a slight tremor throughout his body. "Dean?" Cas reach out a tentative hand, wanting nothing more than to brush his hunter's face and wipe the pain and anguish from it, but not daring to touch. "You know I am here. Despite my earlier assertions, I will always be here for you," he said, a note of shame and regret in his voice.

"Cas, just, I can't right now."

Castiel's concern quickly turned to confusion at Dean's words. "If there is one thing I have learned these last years, it is that you can do anything you set your mind to, even with the Hosts of Heaven against you."

Dean snickered. Compared to what he was going through right now, the Host seemed like a picnic and Hell just a school recess.

"Dean, please. What is upsetting you?"

The sincerity in Cas' voice made Dean want to scream. He was fighting so hard not to lose the family he'd finally gained. And here was Cas, begging him to tell him the secrets that could rip that family apart. He closed his eyes and let his head loll back onto the seat. Outside the snow had turned to fat fluffy flakes and the ensuing silence seemed to permeate the car. Long moments passed with only the sound of his shallow breathing disturbing the air around him.

Cas' voice was a low whisper when he spoke, as if he knew their situation was as delicate as the snow falling outside. "Dean, please?" he begged again. This time he didn't stop himself from reaching out for his hunter; the back of his hand ghosting over Dean's cheek. He almost pulled his hand back as if he'd been burnt when Dean's brow ceased at the slight touch. "I'm sorry, Dean. I never meant to cause you more pain. Forgive me."

Dean's eyes snapped open as he felt Cas pull away, knowing his angel was about to vanish in a rustle of unseen wings. "No. Cas, stay." He was so confused and scared, nothing made sense anymore. His mind screamed for release as loudly and certainly as it demanded he stay silent.

"Dean…"

One word softly, hesitantly spoken made his decision for him. Dean looked at his angel, met his piercing blue eyes, and silently prayed to whoever might be listening that he wasn't about to lose the most important thing in his life. He let the walls drop, the brave face falling to the wayside like the falling snow, and hoped that Cas would understand.

A rare smile played across the angel's lips and he let his hand return to Dean's face. He cocked his head in the way he did when he marveled at what was before him. "You will always be a conundrum to me, Dean Winchester. But you will always have me."

Dean let his eyes close in relief as he pressed into Castiel's touch and silently let himself think the words he'd been fighting against so hard. He might not be able to say them yet, but he knew them and knew they were true- he loved his angel, his Cas and the angel's touch showed him he felt the same.