Title: Happy Friggin' Valentine's Day
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Dean/Castiel

Full Summary: When a little witch hunting goes awry and Dean finds himself on the receiving end of a love potion, Sam is quite amused to find that the object of his brother's affection is Castiel. He always knew something was going on between those two, whether they knew it themselves or not. However, the situation progressively becomes less funny when Dean's affections turn into all out possession. In the span of three days, he goes from having a cute little crush to making a full-blown marriage proposal. As the effects of the potion become worse, and even violent, Sam and Cas must find a way to reverse it before things spiral complete out of control or, worse yet, one of them ends up dead. Jealousy, after all, can drive people to do some crazy things.

Author's Note: Hello everyone! I just wanted to say thank you all so much for reading and I hope you enjoy! Valentine's Day is right around the corner (my favorite holiday!) so I thought it would be fun to write a little something! I absolutely love the love potion trope and wanted to do something that was funny and out there while also being pretty close to Supernatural's usual style of humor. Hopefully I succeeded. And if I didn't- well, it was still fun to write. This should only be a few chapters long, definitely no more than ten, and I will try to update often. See you soon, my lovelies!

"There's no love without pain." - Irving Stone

Chapter 1

"Dammit!"

Dean cursed as he stumbled his way down the path, tripping over the loose gravel beneath his feet. He was running as fast as his legs would carry him, racing back to the Impala for safety. Behind him, loud and booming from inside the barn, he could hear her laughing, throwing out insults and taunts. Talk about childish.

"Dean! Dean, are you okay?" Sam cried as he rushed to his brother's aid, horrified by his current condition. Dean was bowled over, hunched as he ran, one hand clutching his face. Sam could hear him wheezing, voice harsh and raspy as he spoke.

"The bitch got me, too!" he hissed, blood absolutely boiling. He couldn't remember ever being this pissed. Not only was this chick annoying, but he felt like a little bitch for running away like that. He was officially done with today.

The Winchesters had never had the best track record when it came to hunting witches. It was always a mixed bag of tricks: you never knew what you were going to get. Some were powerful, others were cunning. And then there were those that just messed around for shits and giggles; stupid little girls who dressed the part and played the game for the sake of being edgy. They had met a few of those in their day and usually they spooked once they realized they were straddling the gateway to something serious. Those were the kind that you could frighten away with a simple threat and stomp of your heel. The kind Dean originally thought they were dealing with.

Upon first glance, Dean had literally laughed in her face. The girl looked like she had crawled out of the dumpster behind Hot Topic. All pastels and grunge t-shirts, dark make-up, piercings and pop references. A teenage nightmare. Dean was cringing from the moment she opened her mouth. She was just chock full of angsty teen bullshit. Petty, moronic, egotistical bullshit. And Dean had called her out on it, too. He looked her dead in the eyes and said, "You have no idea what you're doing and this little bitch fit of yours is getting people killed."

And it was true. The only reason they had come all the way out to Nowheresville Nebraska was because a couple of teen girls got cursed. Nothing too serious in the beginning; in fact, it was kind of funny. Funny enough to make Dean laugh, at least. The inflicted were a couple of beauty queens and when they woke up one morning looking like Sloth from The Goonies... Well, everybody lost their shit.

Dean assumed they were just dealing with a witch who held a grudge and had a wicked sense of humor, but things changed when it went from a joke to an all-out blood-bath. Just a day after they arrived to investigate, some girl up in Paxton was found in pieces, burnt to a crisp, with only her torso and left leg intact. The kid had been a cheerleader, a local volunteer, and had just been accepted to Creighton University in the fall; she honestly seemed like a really nice girl.

At first, Dean wasn't convinced that they were connected, but it didn't take them long to figure out what tied the two together. Apparently, her and bitchy witchy had been best friends until she began dabbling in the dark arts. This chick decided to off all her ex-BFFs for dumping her. Once again, angsty teen bullshit.

They had been tracking her for days, finally cornering her in some run down old barn just West of Chadron. Easy peasy, Dean had thought, how hard can this be? Well, pretty damn hard was the answer.

"What happened?" Sam cried, voice high and tight as he grabbed Dean's arm, leading him toward the Impala. Dean could barely make out Castiel's figure through the haze, leaning against the driver's door with his trench coat laying on the hood. He watched dizzily as the man dusted himself off, coughing slightly. It made him feel better knowing that he wasn't the only douchebag in the group. Castiel had swung in out of nowhere, intending to save the day, and suffered the same fate. Although, most of the powder she had thrown at him ended up on his jacket instead of in his face. Dean had complimented her humor, not her aim.

"I don't know! She hit me with...something! It burns like hell!" he cried, still clutching his face as they stumbled towards the Impala. Castiel had now joined in Sam's panic, helping him to sit down in the front seat. If he went blind, he swore that bitch was going to pay. There was a new Valentine's Day issue of Busty, Beautiful Blonds sitting at home with his name on it and it wasn't going to do him any good if he couldn't see it.

"Is she still in the barn? Did you see where she went?" Sam sputtered as he leaned over his brother, realizing then that they were about to let her get away.

"Well, I'd point you in the right direction, Sammy, but I can't fucking see," he cracked, shrugging through the pain.

Sam said nothing to that and instead took off back towards the barn, picking up his shot gun and running as fast as he could. As soon as he moved out of the way, Castiel took his spot. Concern rolled off him in waves.

"Dean, open your eyes. Let me take a look."

Worry pierced Castiel's words as he bent down in front of the man, voice commanding yet gentle. Dean begrudgingly obliged and lowered his hands to his lap, blinking rapidly in the dim. His vision was blurred, the image of Castiel in front of him barely visible through the haze. He felt his breath hitch. This wasn't good. It wasn't good at all. Whatever she had thrown at him, whatever she had done to him, was certainly effective.

Dean swallowed hard as Cas' hand came up to grip his jaw, turning his face from side to side. He knew he looked like shit. There was no doubt in his mind. Everything hurt. His nose was running, his eyes were watering, and he could tell his face was beginning to swell. His skin was flushed, sweaty, and his mind was swimming like it usually did when he had too much to drink.

"This shit really hurts," was all he could mutter before jerking out of Castiel's grip, unable to keep his eyes open any longer.

"It's possible she could have-," Castiel's words were cut short as Sam came trudging back down the path. From his expression, it was clear he was displeased, approaching them with an intense frown. There was a small scrap of paper clutched in his hand.

"The barn's empty. She's gone," he stated, slamming his gun down onto the Impala's hood. He, too, had begun to tire of the girl's antics. The little game of tag she was playing- it was immensely annoying and at this point all of them were angry and frustrated. Just when Dean thought it couldn't get any worse, Sam added, "Oh, and she left us this in the barn."

He held up the pink slip of paper to clarify, clearing his throat as he began to read, "In red ink, she wrote, 'Call me when there's news of a happy announcement. See you soon, boys. XOXOXO.' And on the back, she put her phone number. It's inside a heart, in case you were wondering."

"I'll give her credit where credit is due," Dean said, pushing himself up from the front seat, blinking rapidly as he shifted his gaze to Sam, "Bitch has got some nads, leaving her phone number like that. And her sense of humor is growing on me."

"Of course, it is," Sam sighed, glancing over at Castiel who wore a matching expression of aspiration. He shook his head before folding the piece of paper and stuffing it into his pocket, "You feeling any better now?"

"Yep, I'm just peachy," Dean cracked sarcastically, struggling to keep his eyes open, "Now let's get the hell out of here. I'm done with all this."

Digging in his jean pocket, Dean produced the keys to the Impala. Holding them, he motioned towards the car, "Get in."

Once again, Sam sighed at him, reaching out to snatch the keys from his hand. There was no way in hell he was going to let Dean drive while he was in such a state. They'd be dead before they even made it onto the highway. Pushing his brother out of the way, Sam approached the driver's door.

"I think you might have to take shotgun this time, Dean."

Somewhere along the way from Chadron back to Paxton, Dean had fallen asleep and the Impala had run low on gas.

Squinting against the bright gas station lights, awoken by the sound of Sam leaving the car, he gave a loud yawn and sat up. He could honestly say that, having gotten an hour of sleep, he felt absolutely no different. If anything, the headache he had earlier was even worse now, throbbing as lay back in his seat. Everything still hurt, everything still burned, everything was still shit. Nothing had changed. Nothing, but the scenery.

Instead of the bumpy back road they had taken to get to the barn, they were now parked beside a dented, old gas pump, faded logo stickers stuck to the front. Turning his head for a better look, glancing behind Castiel who was sitting quietly in the backseat, Dean saw an empty stretch of road leading in both directions. There were no signs visible so he wasn't sure where exactly there where, but at least they weren't in the middle of nowhere anymore. At least they were closer to the city, closer to the hotel, closer to his bed. He was ready for a full night's sleep. Five or six hours would do him good. And in the morning, he would wake up well and rested, ready to head back out again. Or, at the very least, that's what he was hoping for.

He couldn't say for certain that he would be well again. Hell, he couldn't say for certain that the effects would ever wear off. All he could do was hope. Hope that he wouldn't go blind. Hope that he would feel well enough to pull out that Beautiful, Busty Blonds magazine when he got back to the hotel. Hope that he would get the chance to knife that bitch the next time he saw her. Yes, all he could do was hope.

Shifting to get comfortable, gritting his teeth against the pain of his headache, Dean leaned back and sighed.

You'll see, he told himself for support, pressing a hand to his pounding temple. We'll wake up tomorrow and we'll feel better. Everything will be back to normal. You'll see.

Leaning his head back, forcing himself to believe that little mental pep talk, Dean closed his eyes. Sleep. That's what he needed. He needed to go back to sleep. And so, he tried. For almost two full seconds, he tried to go back to sleep.

But, no sooner had he closed his eyes and decided on what he was going to do, did he shoot up in his seat. Immediately, he gasped, struck by the most intense, the most powerful emotion he had felt in all of his lifetime. It consumed him, taking control almost instantly, spreading through his chest like wildfire. Swallowing thickly, commanded by the overwhelming urge that suddenly gripped him, Dean swiveled around in his seat, eyes as wide a saucers and mouth agape.

"Dean, what's wrong? Are you alright?" Castiel sputtered, reaching out to grab the man's shoulder. Before he could so much as touch him, Dean closed his hands around Cas' own, trying and failing to make a coherent sentence.

Panic flushed through the other as he stared at Dean, jerking his hands back to no avail. The look on his friend's face. The amazement, the wonder, the confusion, the pain.

"Castiel," Dean shook his head pitifully, brows furrowed and expression weak. He had to tell him. He had to make him understand. Oh, god, how did he last so long? How did he keep the charade for so many years? So many empty, painful, loveless years. Another year; no, another day like that would be absolute agony. He couldn't stand it any longer. "I can't believe it. I never... why did I never...I can take this anymore."

Sam decided to get food.

Pulling twenty dollars from his wallet, he smiled warmly at the woman behind the counter as she rung up and bagged his snacks. He had spent at least five minutes- way longer than he should have- roaming the candy aisle in search of a pick me up. In the end, he settled on a bag of mini Reese's cups for himself and powdered donuts for Dean.

Tonight had not been a good night. Not for any of them and especially not for his brother. They all deserved a treat and if there was one thing that made Dean happy, it was food. This was bound to put a smile on his face. His very swollen, very irritated face.

Handing the woman his cash, Sam patiently waited for his change. He was glad to wait. If anything, that gave him a chance to mull over everything before getting back in the car.

While Dean slept, him and Cas had a long conversation about the man. Mainly, what the witch had done to him. Castiel couldn't say for certain what it was, but he didn't think it was anything serious. After all, Dean wasn't showing any other reactions other than the burning eyes and scratchy throat.

For what it was worth, things could have gone a lot worse. She could have poisoned him, made him sick for weeks, turned him into a frog. There was a laundry list of bad things that can be done to a person and irritated eyes and a runny nose are pretty low on the list. In the end, Sam agreed with Castiel, letting his worry ebb thanks to the man's words.

Occasionally, when he wasn't bearing bad news or mixed up in some angel bullshit, it was nice to bring Castiel along. Of course, Sam cared a lot about him. How could he not? But sometimes his presence could be a little... stressful. Today though, he was glad he came. Without his opinion, Sam probably would have been a nervous wreck.

Swiping his change from the counter and grabbing his bag, Sam gave the woman a curt goodbye and headed for the door. He hated to admit it, but he was a little bit excited for those Reese's Cups. A little too excited, by most standards.

Unable to resist, as soon as he was out of eyesight and into the parking lot, Sam reached into the bag for his candy. He stopped short when his eyes landed on the Impala. What he saw made him immediately drop his bag and run.

Through the dim windows of the car, Sam could see Dean turned around in his seat, hands outstretched, grabbing Castiel by the wrists. Not gently either. And, apparently, not with the other's consent. Castiel's struggle was obvious, jerking back ruthlessly in an effort to free his hands. Fearful of what was happening, unsure of what else to do, Sam abandoned his bag of powdered donuts and sweet Reese's Cups and instead ran towards the car. He made it in three seconds flat, his long legs being his saving grace.

Sam jerked open the Impala door forcefully and peered inside, confusion and panic riddling his face as he watched the two of them. Dean had let go of Castiel's hands and he was now sitting there, still turned in his seat, with the absolute strangest expression on his face.

"What are you guys doing?" Sam sputtered, not sure if there was still danger or any danger at all to begin with. His gaze flickered back between Dean and Cas, searching for an answer. Castiel said nothing, pressed tightly against the backseat as though he was braced for an attack. His blue eyes were blown wide with shock, fear, and most of all, confusion. He seemed just as lost as Sam, leaving Dean to be the only one with any answers.

"Dean?"

Sam watched as the man slowly turned to face him, stifling the urge to laugh as he got a good look at his brother's face. His eyes were distant, unfocused; dare he say dreamy? His lips were parted like he was trying to speak, but no words came out. His hands were stiff, fixed open like he had been holding something. He looked like a little kid whose parents had told him no for the first time. He looked like a teenage boy who had just been rejected for prom. He looked absolutely heartbroken in the most dramatic, over the top, comical way possible.

And to top it all off, Dean utter the most outrageous thing Sam had ever heard him say.

"I think I'm in love with Cas."