He should have run when he realised Famine was in town. That's what he reckoned afterwards.
He should have run when the funny feeling he got in his guts wasn't hunger, not technically speaking. It was desire that came to him.
Some might have called it love, but Castiel was an angel. And love to them... well, it wasn't what humans called love.
So he should have run when he looked up into a pair of sea green eyes and fell, but he didn't because he couldn't let those eyes down. He buried the feeling deep down, replaced this tug, this pull, this gravity that Dean emitted with Jimmy's hunger, started eating and tried to forget.
Because showing his love for Dean meant that he would do anything for that man, and so he did.
It wasn't until Famine's powers had all gone that Castiel started to freak out.
He knew the effect should have worn off. It had done so with Jimmy's craving and Sam's addiction, although Sam was still enjoying the after-effects of his relapse.
Maybe that was what he needed: rehab. Maybe all he had to do was stay away from a man so empty that all Castiel wanted to do was fill him up, hold him together and never let go until he would realise that there were things worth living for and he would hug Cas back and they would...
He shook his head and was glad when Dean said he needed some fresh air. That gave Castiel time to get his mind out of the gutter and get his thoughts in order.
A thought crossed his mind: Famine never created. He just used what was already there, buried and fast asleep. Then he woke it up and turned it on itself.
Castiel was determined to forget, to grit his teeth and leave it, when he felt the familiar and yet surprising tug of prayer and felt his heart breaking over it.
It was Dean.
With a silent flutter of wings he was gone, reappearing next to the Impala and Dean who had his eyes turned heavenwards in a desperate, childlike prayer.
Castiel swallowed and took a step forward. He put his hand on Dean's shoulder, and some part of his mind remembered it was the same shoulder he had gripped when he had pulled Dean out of hell. The situation seemed awfully similar.
"Dean..."
The hunter froze, then turned around and faced Castiel with an expression of determination that was undermined by the marks of tears that had run down his face. Castiel wanted so badly to wipe them away, to make it all better for the man who had given so much to the world and yet had gotten nothing in return, but that was not within what he could do. He could only watch, stare, and hope that somehow Dean would be alright again.
"Cas..." Dean smiled weakly. "I'm sorry you had to see me like this."
Castiel tilted his head ever-so-slightly. "You don't have to apologise, Dean."
Dean wiped his face with the sleeve of his jacket and sniffed. "Nah, don't have to. But I don't want to put another burden on you. Just so you know, I don't need to talk about it."
And that was when Castiel's heart broke again, broke again and fell for that impossibly silly man in front of him. And it had nothing to do with Famine. "Dean..."
Dean patted his shoulder, and with Castiel's hand still on Dean's shoulder it looked like a very awkward hug for a moment. Then Dean let go, and Castiel lowered his head.
"It wasn't hunger, Dean. Not for me."
Dean stopped in his tracks. "Come again?"
Castiel swallowed. "It wasn't hunger, for me. Jimmy was affected, and he was hungry, but I felt something different."
Dean pulled one of his stupid, unimpressed faces. "What? Got a sweet tooth for angel candy? It's not your fault you're not as awesome as me."
He tried to mask it, Castiel could see, but he noticed the slight quiver of uncertainty in Dean's voice.
"Famine got to me in a different way. Only I was more successful at fighting it than Sam was, because I had Jimmy's hunger to replace it with."
Dean had gone silent now. "What was it?" He was curious, Castiel liked to think, as to what could make an angel weak. Well. He was in for a surprise there.
"Dean..." Castiel took a step forward. The tears hadn't yet dried on Dean's face, and his eyes were still red from crying. He couldn't stay away. He simply couldn't. "It was you."