okay so this is kinda AU... I mean it happens after Stairway To Heaven but ignores all kinds of stunts they pulled... and Dean isn't being a major dick. Not more than he naturally is at least.

I twisted all the details until they suited me basically..

also: Major Character Death (I don't know how that happened, I swear! I'm a monster!)

This is my first Supernatural story so I would really appreciate your feedback, especially regarding any possible OOCness.

Disclaimer: Not Mine.

His True Form

The bunker was pretty quiet which was kind of nice for a change. Nothing of the tumultuous bullcrap to do with Metatron's impending reign of terror that none of the trio thought preventable at the moment. Dean Winchester was familiar with that particular feeling of peace. It was simply the calm before the storm and wouldn't last long, maybe not even throughout the night. But for now it was there and he'd be friggin' damned if he didn't enjoy it while it lasted, all worries and responsibilities swept aside for the time being. Maybe- probably- it was a selfish thing to do but that's what he was good at according to his brother, wasn't it?

Dean Winchester, Selfish Son of a Bitch...

He should have some damn business cards printed.

With a grunt he got up from where he was slumped in a chair and made his way around the table, inconveniently large for just the two of them, straightly headed for the fridge where he knew he'd be greeted by nothing but beer. And that sounded pretty awesome.

What wasn't awesome was that he ran into his little brother on the way.

"Seriously, Dean?" he said by means of greeting, crossing his ridiculously long monkey arms and raising an accusing eyebrow.

Great, he thought, air leaving his nostrils in an annoyed rush.

"Seriously what?" he said, keeping up the pretense that they didn't have the Damocles Sword dangling above their heads, happy to decapitate them at any moment.

"Cas and I have spent hours in the study, thinking of ways to defeat Metatron and you just... chill out."

"I'm being helpful, brother," he said, flashing his trademark faux smile and continuing his journey to the cooled beverages. Once there he grabbed a can of beer and, after a second's consideration, another one. As he turned around Sam was blocking the doorway with his way too large body.

"Just how is this-" he gestured toward Dean and the pair of beer cans in his hands by swirling a finger in the air in a circular motion "-in any way 'being helpful'?"

Dean shrugged. "If I'm drinkin' it it means you and your feathery companion ain't drinkin' it and that means you stay sober and keep a wonderfully clear head." He clasped one can under his arm in order to open the other. It hissed as the gas left the can and he held it up as if for a toast, saying "I know. I'm a genius." before taking a generous swig.

"Don't give me any of that crap, Dean!" Sam suddenly burst out, "You know as well as I do that we can't just sit down and relax. Not with everything that's going down out there."

That was enough. The older Winchester slowly closed the remaining distance between them, puffing out his chest to appear somewhat taller, and looked his younger brother in the eye. "Watch me." was all he said before pushing past him and walking off to his room.

Once in his own quarters Dean dropped the act and placed the two cans on his dresser. 'Course he knew they couldn't afford to sit back and watch the story unfold like Metatron did, they needed to do... stuff. Thing was, he had not the faintest idea how to stop any of what's going on. Sam was being a whiny bitch about pretty much everything, constantly guilt-tripping him and pointing out that he couldn't trust anyone while he himself frequently lost control over his own actions (Mark of Cain plus anger management issues? Bad Idea.)

And Cas... Cas was dying for Christ's sake. And he had no idea how long he had left, or so he said.

The thought of losing the rebellious Angel of the Lord again after the tough year they had since The Fall was more painful than the Winchester was ready to admit. Cas was his friend. Family even, as he'd told him. He owed him so much and even though he hated the awkward guy sometimes, it was still Castiel who had stitched him back together single handedly after pulling him from the Pit. They had literally been to Hell and back together.

How's that for Profound Bond, huh?

The soft flutter of wings pulled him from his thoughts. He hadn't realized he'd been pacing the room all this time so he stopped and turned around to face the intruder. The angel kept his distance, forgetting the issues with personal space he randomly showed. His piercing blue eyes were on him and he had to look away, breaking under the intensity of the stare slash slight tilting of the head that was so unmistakably Cas.

"Hello, Dean." Although it was his trademark greeting, something was off. Ever since he'd been human the angel seemed different. Everything he said or did seemed to cause an emotional struggle of some sort that Dean didn't understand but clearly saw. He wanted to comment on it, ask what was wrong, offer his help but he knew more pressing matters were at hand and they could still sort this out.. afterwards. (Right?)

"Hey, Cas."He said instead.

"Sam told me to speak with you," Castiel said, averting his gaze and walking over to the bed where he sat down as if that was to logical thing to do. Just chill on another dude's bed. No big deal.

"Tell the Jolly Green Giant thanks but I'm fine," the Winchester replied with a dismissive wave. Castiel looked taken aback.

"I do not see how a cheerful behemoth-"

"I meant Sam. Because, y'know he's tall and his shirt is green.." he trailed off, running a hand over his face and sighing heavily. "Never mind," he said, hands resting on his hips. "Just tell him I'm good and he can contact me again once we can have a conversation without him blaming me for everything that ever went wrong in his life."

The Angel still looked confused. "Dean, he said I should speak with you... about a very personal matter... concerning myself."

That caught his attention and he turned his attention back to the angel still sitting on his bed (definitely not giving him ideas of any inappropriate nature whatsoever). "Well then. What's going on?"

"I think I have less time left than I thought." He simply said, looking up at the Winchester with a puppy-dog look that he probably not knew the heart-wrenching effect of. Dean's mouth was suddenly dry.

"What?" he asked dumbly.

Castiel sighed and folded his hands together as if in prayer. "The Grace I have stolen... it's fading more quickly than I had initially hoped. I am losing strength. Fast." He looked terrified.

"What does that mean? How- how long until you..."

"Does it matter?" the angel's voice was barely above a whisper and deprived of all hope.

"Well it does to me!" Dean almost roared, starting his pointless pacing once more and running a hand through his hair. What was even happening right now? He couldn't comprehend what Castiel was telling him. Didn't want to. He stopped and closed his eyes for a moment, willing the prickling to go away before he embarrassed himself. When he opened them again the dark-haired angel was directly in front of him. Dean did not step away.

"I came to tell you something. Or show you something actually." The smile tugging at the corner of Castiel's mouth might have been undetectable to anyone else. But not to him. Never to him. The intimacy was too much to handle.

"Well, I'm not gonna look at your dick." His voice was fake flirtatious and his words were meant to ease the tension but Castiel brushed it off, seeing right through all his fears.

"Don't do that, Dean."

For a very long time neither of them said a word, they just stood there in the center of Dean's room staring at each other, their breathing uneven. It wasn't uncomfortable, they just knew the time they had to admit... things- Things that may or may not result in a chick flick moment- was limited. And Dean sure as hell wasn't ready to say anything. Not yet. Maybe never.

He had hunted all kinds of monsters, had killed Gods, lost and found his faith in the world multiple times but none of these things scared him as much as his relationship with Castiel, Angel of the Lord, did. Being around him was confusing because it involved so much frustration and irritation- God that sonofabitch could be annoying- while at the same time he cherished the time he got to spend with him, although when given the choice he liked to keep it at a minimum as of late.

Problem was: Dean Winchester did not do feelings.

And neither did Cas... at least he hadn't until humanity had come along.

"What are you thinking?" the angel asked softly, his usually so rough voice pleasantly smooth.

"That I have no fucking idea what's going on," he whispered back, wanting to look away but simultaneously trying to memorize the blue eyes he was staring into, saving the image for a time when... when he wouldn't be able to...

The thought needed to stay unfinished.

"I want you to see me, Dean." Castiel finally said slightly louder and with familiar determination.

Dean tried to smile. "I'm not blind, Cas."

The angel rolled his eyes and it was nothing short of adorable. (wait what?!)

"I am aware of that. What I meant was... I want you to see my true form. Not Jimmy Novak, just me. Just Castiel."

The hunter was speechless for a moment. What was the appropriate reaction when a celestial being wanted to reveal its true form to you?

"Won't that burn my eyes out, though?" he asked, half-joking and half really very serious. He liked having eye-sight. A lot.

Castiel smiled a crooked smile. "I think someone who can bear the Mark of Cain can handle seeing an Angel of the Lord." his fingers were suddenly tracing the red scar tissue on Dean's arm almost lovingly, breaking the unspoken rule that they were not (ever!) to touch this way. Dean desperately hoped he looked calmer on the outside than he felt.

"Why do you want me to, y'know...?"

"Because... I have done many wrongs. Most of them very recently compared to past millennia. And... now that all the angels I thought were on my side have turned their backs on me as well... I have only you. I guess I just... I just want someone to remember my celestial body without hating it."

Dean didn't say anything, didn't even move a muscle. He was afraid that if he moved even one inch he would either hug the shit out of the angel in front of him or start crying and neither reaction was in any way acceptable for a hunter. Castiel's features hardened at Dean's lack of reaction and he let go of his arm.

(why did he immediately miss the contact?)

"Cas, I'm sure that I'm not the only one who-"

"Yes," Castiel interrupted, "you are."

"Well then. Do you need to, like, possess me or anything?" He was dead serious. How the hell was he supposed to know how this worked? Come on!

"No!" Castiel exclaimed absolutely horrified. "I would never do that, Dean."

"Right."

"I need to create a connection between your mind and mine," he explained quickly, "this can be done with a simple touch." The angel lifted his hands tentatively, silently asking for permission. "It can be a very... intimate experience."

Dean nodded his head (Hell, why the fuck not, right?) and Cas smiled again, placing his hands gently on either side of the hunter's face, fingertips touching his temples. "I'll start with the, uhm, wings..."

"Sure."

"Close your eyes," he whispered.

Dean did as he was told, completely trusting the angel. He felt... something... slowly feel its way around his head and shivered involuntarily. Warmth spread throughout his entire body and he literally felt Castiel's smile. Suddenly he heard the familiar sound of wings unfolding and instinctively opened his eyes again.

The room was almost completely filled with a black mess of swirling feathers. Castiel's wings were... extraordinary and nothing like he hints he had seen on earlier occasions. The hunter was stunned and honored that the angel would share this with him.

Only now did his eyes fall back onto the heavily panting holder of said wings.

"Is this... is this hurting you, Cas?"

"Yes." The answer was grim and accompanied by a grimace of pain. "This takes a lot of power out of me. Power I don't have."

It looked as if even the wings themselves were radiating off agony.

"Then stop it! What the fuck, Cas! What is this some weird angelic masochism bullshit?"

The angel spoke through gritted teeth. "I want... you... to see..."

For a moment everything was black, not just dark. Utter impenetrable blackness.

And then Dean saw it. Saw him.

How tall he was he couldn't say (hadn't he mentioned something once?) but Sam was King of the Ants in comparison. And then there was this glorious light surrounding him, not like a halo- although it probably served as the inspiration for that particular trait- but more like it was part of the body.

Castiel was nothing but light and warmth and... beauty.

Through the connection he could sense all of his angels emotions. His pride, his joy, his devastating fear... and his love- There was so much love!- and he knew that it probably worked the other way around as well. Dean couldn't hold back any longer, he let everything out, showing Castiel how much he meant to him, how much he trusted the angel, how much he lo-

Suddenly the connection was gone.

The room was eerily dark except for the installed emergency lights and he realized that Cas' true form had probably burst every bulb in a ten mile radius. He chuckled, but it turned into a gasp as he saw the trenchcoated heap on the floor next to his bed. In a heartbeat the hunter was kneeling next to the angel, who was still somewhat glow-y.

"Cas?"

"Dean?" The voice was far too weak.

"You're beautiful," he whispered into Cas' black hair as he gathered him into his arms, alarmed at how shallow his breathing was. "Not in a hot-chick way. In a... angel way. You are beautiful."

"Thank you, Dean." The glow lessened further.

"Don't do it, Cas. Don't stop fighting." He begged, voice breaking at the end, as he held the angel closer, still feeling stray feathers brushing against his arms.

(Come on, you stupid angel, don't make me say it)

"I'm so sorry, Dean." The last of the glow vanished, leaving the room cold and unfriendly. Castiel coughed and grimaced in pain.

Dean willed the tears to stay the hell away and they did. He needed to be strong for his angel. "Is there anything I can do? Should I call Sam?"

"I told Sam... not to come... if you called him." Every word was obviously causing him pain.

"Why the hell would you do that?"

Castiel half-smiled. "I wanted to be with you."

That sentence... Too much honesty, too many what-ifs... too much finality.

"You knew exactly how much time you had left." No question, just a statement.

"Yes." The angel looked guilty for a moment until it seemed that even blinking was too much of an effort and his impossibly blue eyes fell shut.

"Son of a bitch."

"Assbutt."

"Castiel, I-"

"I know." The angel flashed a bright smile "Goodbye, Dean."

The last feathers dissipated, leaving only Jimmy Novak.

When Sam returned his brother was still cradling the vessel.