The thunderous rumbling of the sleek, black Impala came to a sudden halt as Dean pulled the keys out of the ignition. With a musical jingle, he stuffed them into the pocket of his faded leather jacket and proceeded to climb out of the passenger's seat. The door wailed with a shrill shriek as Dean slammed it closed, squinting at the bright ginger sun that sat just over the horizon. He swung his bag over his right shoulder and began to walk across the damp parking lot, his boots thudding against the asphalt all the while. He passed under a rusty motel sign after receiving his room key, and made his way up a brief flight of concrete stairs. After a short saunter through the olive colored hallway, Dean came to his destination. He lifted the worn silver key into the slot below the handle of the whitewash door and slowly pushed it open. Taking only one step inside, a musty smell lifted its scent to Dean's nostrils. He paid little mind to it, however, and gently placed his knap-sack onto the crimson comforter. Then beside it, he sat down himself to get a better look of his whereabouts. Dean was pleased that he had decided to visit here after all. It was a bit more spacious than other rooms he and Sam had stayed in, containing a full bath, kitchen, and even a partial lounge. Despite the strange odor that lingered in the air, Dean found the place rather home-like. Rising slowly from the bed, Dean approached the small window in the far corner of the room. He could see a blanket of misty clouds and stars seizing the cerulean sky, the last remnants of salmon taking refuge behind a dense mask of evergreens. He sighed, watching as his breath made a slight haze against the chilled, November glass.
Bobby had suggested that Dean take a diminutive vacation after a heated confrontation between the two brothers. Dean clenched his fists and shook his head, still reminiscing with rage. Their brother ship hadn't quite been the same over the course of the past year, but as of late Sam was especially apologetic; always carrying out tiny gestures in attempts to make amends with Dean. At last Dean had gotten fed up with Sam's efforts and declared that it would take more than these endeavors to drain the poison in which Ruby had imposed into their relationship. "Oh, so this is all Ruby's fault now? Dean, are you sure Cas didn't have a part to play in this so called 'poisoning' too?" Sam snorted, slightly offended. Finally Dean snapped, punching Sam forcefully in the nose, causing blood to rush from his nostrils. Therefore, Bobby stepped in, making a firm indication that it would be best for Dean to take a break for a few days. Of course, Dean didn't go too far, in case of a hunting (or in their case, apocalypse) emergency.
Dean thought for a moment, trying to recall exactly why he had punched Sam on Castiel's behalf. It's not like Castiel had defended him on that many occasions to begin with. Dean sighed again, glancing down at a small end table nestled against the wall. Atop it sat a baby blue box. Dean opened the two flaps along the side, dumping out two round candles. Lifting one to his face, he inhaled trying to determine its fragrance. It didn't smell like much of anything to be honest, thus he read the package; Clean Linen. Dean shrugged, and pulled a lighter from his jean pocket. As the sparkling flames touched each wick a glowing aura arose, creating a flickering sensation that quickly filled the room. Oh sure, a real vacation, Dean thought to himself, where are all the babes… and pie? As Dean thought over this again, he realized he could really use some pie right now. However, he'd just gotten comfortable, and all he really longed for at the moment was a good, long nap. That being said, he closed the ragged curtains that dangled from a plastic rod and shoved his bag off of the bed. He then proceeded to plop his body onto the soft mattress and close his eyes for some well-earned rest. But rest did not come – it never came. All that entered his dreams were the burning flames and the blood curdling screams. However, with what felt like an eternity's passing, Dean's eyelashes fluttered open. At first, he was unsure of his surroundings, but it all came quickly drifting back to him. He heard a slight shift coming from across the room, so instinctively he reached for Ruby's knife and the light switch. To Dean's surprise, on the sofa in front of him sat none other than Castiel.
He was hunched forward a bit, with his hands folded and dangling in between his knees. There appeared to be a damp sweat upon his brow, and he wore a sickened expression. Castiel stared blankly at him for a moment. "H- Hello, Dean," he said hesitantly after a pause.
"Damn it, Cas!" Dean huffed, "Don't sneak around like that." He placed the knife back onto the nightstand, and shuffled over to the kitchen faucet to wash his face.
"My apologies," Castiel murmured, his focus now drawn to the floor.
"So," called Dean as he dried his face on the hand towel, "what is it this time?"
Castiel lifted his eyes to Dean's location across the room. He tilted his head slightly as his gaze locked awkwardly onto Dean's ass – his ideally shaped, denim-concealed ass. And for what felt like the longest moment of his life, Castiel just admired how perfect it looked as Dean bent over to dry his face. Too soon were his thoughts overrun, however, by Dean's humorous sarcasm. "Hello? Earth to Cas!" Dean bellowed, waving his hand towards Castiel as if he was incapable of understanding.
Castiel blinked furiously, attempting to reconnect with reality. He felt his cheeks beginning to burn up, almost as if he'd just been caught doing something he shouldn't. "I, uh, thought it might be best if I, um—,"
His stuttering was soon ceased as Dean interrupted him from inside of the refrigerator. "Oh yeah, baby, jackpot!" he yelled, pulling an unopened six pack from the bottom shelf. Daintily he lifted a bottle from its cardboard case, unscrewed the cap, and took a sip that was followed by an exhilarating sigh. Castiel just stood there like some stoned idiot, rubbing his hands over his eyes. "Want one?" Dean offered after a pause.
Castiel nodded silently as he made his way over to the counter and received the beer from Dean's hand, trying his best not to make eye contact. Without any thought he twisted off the cap and let the cool, refreshing liquid spill down his dry throat. And he continued to gulp it down until he came to the realization that there was nothing more to devour in the bottle. Finally he pulled it from his mouth and panted with satisfaction, his heart racing all the while. He turned towards Dean whose _expression was left in confusion, his own beer bottle inches from his lips – his flawless lips, Castiel thought.
And he scolded himself for that, regaining his focus on whatever Dean was about to say. "Dude, are you okay?" Dean asked, taking another drink.
Castiel's mind ran through a thousand responses, trying to decide which one would be the most convincing that he was indeed alright, despite the fact that he was dying inside. Still among the many colorful choices he'd witnessed the humans say, Cas could only manage a scratchy, "Yes," to escape his lips. After he said it, he wished so badly that he could take it back. Take a moment to breath and persuade Dean – lie to Dean.
Gently, Dean placed his beer bottle on the counter beside himself and shifted his weight as he crossed his arms, obviously not swayed by Castiel's response. "Oh really?" he questioned, his lips almost forming a pout.
Again Castiel's mind was drawn to Dean's burgundy lips, and he longed to touch them. To caress them with his own, and to experience a sensation that he never thought – never imagined – existed. Yet his focus rose just slightly upward to Dean's eyes. His gorgeously combined green and brown eyes that were filled with pain, sadness, humor, and so many other combined emotions. It was almost overwhelming to Castiel all the emotions that Dean was bringing out of him at this very moment. Feeling the blazing upon his face swiftly returning, Castiel rotated his body away from Dean to collect his thoughts. "Yes Dean, I am fine," he replied, this time with more confidence in his voice. His face, however, told a different story and he was utterly thankful Dean could not see that. Dean always seemed to have a talent for being able to see through the inevitable, especially with Sam. And speaking of Sam, Castiel was curious as to why he was not with his brother. It seemed like a good enough reason to change the subject. "Sam is not with you?"
Dean thought it odd for Castiel to switch topics so quickly, but he did not press on the matter. Instead he tried to come up with a way to explain that Sam was with Bobby, without having some kind of a heartfelt moment with Cas. That in itself, would be a bit odd. So Dean cleared his throat and casually said, "Uh, no. He's with Bobby right now." He picked up his beer again and drank, now more or less to calm his nerves.
Hearing the hesitation in Dean's voice was enough to alert Castiel that something was not right between them. "What has happened?" he asked now in his standard angelic tone.
"Ah nothing, just a little fight," Dean retorted pausing to finish his beverage.
Suddenly, Castiel felt pity spring up inside of him for Dean. Pity that he and Sam, the one in which Dean had been brutally tortured in hell on behalf of, were not getting along. And Castiel's heart ached at the fact that he could not be the one to console Dean – only Dean could bring comfort to himself, and that was just the ways things were. Were supposed to be anyway. Castiel watched as Dean walked past him and over to the trash can to dispose of the beer bottles. And there he stood for a moment, holding back, like he always did. "I am sorry," Castiel whispered sincerely, almost unconscious of the fact that the words left his mouth.
But they had, never the less, and Dean had heard them. So he simply replied with, "It's not a big deal. Sammy's just stubborn – he always has been."
At this, Castiel began walking slowly over to Dean, not entirely sure of what his intentions would be once he reached him. He paused for a moment, his heart thudding in his chest. Delicately, he placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. He'd seen humans do this as a sign of reassurance, and it felt right as he did so – like his hand had always belonged there. Belonged on Dean Winchester's shoulder. And soothingly he spoke softly, "I wish that there was something–,"
But Dean interrupted Cas once again, not allowing too many emotions to be brought to the surface. "It's okay dude," he said defensively as he turned towards Castiel, "no chick-flick moments, remember?" Castiel tilted his head in that manner of confusion that Dean laughed at but hated at the same time.
"I just want you to realize that I am here for you, Dean," Castiel urged, fearless as he took another step closer to Dean.
Dean didn't say a word but stepped back as Castiel continued to come forward, until he was against the wall and Cas – well Cas was just inches from his face. This, first off all, made Dean feel insecure but also reminded Dean of the time Castiel had threatened to throw his ass back down to the pit. He felt very small then, but even smaller now as he felt Castiel's steamy breath nearing his neck as he leaned in to whisper into Dean's ear.
"I have always been here for you," Castiel muttered in a soft voice, which he was sure raised the hair on Dean's neck.
And in that moment, that glorious moment Castiel wished could just last forever, his lips entwined with Dean's making them whole. Making them one flesh, their hearts beating in perfect unison. Only Castiel's heart throbbed for a different reason – a much stronger passion that he relished in and prayed Dean could feel as well. He believe that the humans called it love.