Writer's note: I donot own anything of Supernatural. It all belongs to CW and Eric Kripke. I also inspired myself by the song It's Too Late to Apologize by One Republic. I do not own the rights to the song either.

I know that the places the characters are at and the things they do/say are not what they did/say in the show. Let's just say it's kind of like a "deleted" scene of some sort that was never shown until today. :)

Gothenburg Motel, Nebraska, 10:13pm

The motel room was pretty shabby. But it was what Sam and Dean Winchester were used to. The carpet was worn off, especially at the entrance, the beds were creaking every time they moved on them, the bathroom had what appeared to be like the beginning of molding, and the wardrobe smelled of mothballs. It's what they'd been calling home for many-a years now.

Sam was at the table, a submarine on his left and his mouse on right, researching on how he could help Castiel in giving up the souls and becoming, well, the good old Castiel. Taking a chunk out of his sandwich, the young man looked out the window. The empty parking lot in front of their room proved that his brother wasn't near here. The Impala was always with him. He was probably out drinking his anger, his sadness, his rejection feelings, his jumbled up emotions. He noticed that Dean wasn't acting like the normal Dean. The kind of Dean Winchester that would tell you straight up what you were doing wrong, that would hit you behind the head for whatever reason, that would relentlessly hesitate before letting you drive his baby doll of a car, that would give up his whole life to save the ones he loved. But that Dean was hidden somewhere deep in his now-certainly-drunken self. Sam didn't know what to do.

He sighed, looked at the time, and figured it would be best for him to just get a good night sleep. At least one of them would have a head on his shoulders when the sun would show up in a few hours. He took his shoes and socks off and winced. He'd have to wash them tomorrow. After slipping his jeans off, he threw them on the chair he had been sitting on just a few moments ago and remembered he had to close his computer – the battery was almost dead and the charger was in the car -. He got up from the bed, made the few steps to the laptop and noticed two cute girls walking past the window. They looked at him, smiled widely, giggled and whispered something to one another. Sam only smiled back and waved his fingers slightly as he watched them walk away. That's when he remembered his pants were off.

"Ah shit." he muttered as he closed the curtains, and then the computer. He walked back to the bed, arranged the covers to his liking, got in, and finally closed the lights. As he closed his eyes, a smirk was glued to his lips. He had made a rather good impression on the girls.

Gothenburg Bar, Nebraska, 10:35pm

"Yeah, yeah. I'm paying you to give me drinks. What are you complaining about?"

"I'm not, I just thought I'd let you know that it was your tenth shot of whiskey, Sir."

"Winchester."

"What?"

"My name's not Sir, it's Win-ches-ter"

The poor young woman didn't know what to do with this client anymore. In less than an hour, he had chugged enough whiskey to save Africa. She sighed, nodded, and served him another drink.

There were a lot of sounds around him, but all Dean could think about was that stupid Angel he had to deal with for years. Well, at least now he wouldn't have to take care of him anymore. And he wouldn't be surprised by him every time he appeared out of nowhere. God, he hated that! God… He chuckled. What a stupid expression it was now that he was thinking about it. Thinking… He hadn't done that in a few days. A few weeks? How long had Castiel been gone now? He looked at his watch. Not even eleven. He took the glass of whiskey, shook it a bit and watched as the two ice cubes rolled around in the liquid, hitting each other from time to time. They were butting heads about who should be on the right. But where was the right in a circle anyways? And what about the left? He snorted, imagining the ice cubes talking to each other, but soon shook his head, annoyed, as the voice turned into his own and Castiel's. He grunted as he tried to get up, dropping half of the whiskey on his shoes.

"Fuck."

He took the last sip, paid the girl and tipped her a twenty. She had been patient with him. She thanked him and watched him as he made his way to the exit. He wasn't even quite sure what he was doing, but he knew one thing, he had to get Castiel out of his mind and the only way to do it was to tell him everything he had on his mind. He didn't even know how to reach him, though. He could easily before; he just had to say the magic words and he'd be there, and he knew how to summon demons. But now, with this situation, nor Castiel's name nor crossroads would do the trick. He needed to go somewhere he could reach God and talk to him personally. Not a church, that was too…common. He had the feeling God was receiving millions of messages every second coming from all those churches around the world. No, he had to do something out of the ordinary.

As he was trying to put his key in the Impala's lock, he kept thinking. Mount Everest and Mount Fuji were both too far and it would cost him too much to get to either. The tallest mountain in the USA was in Alaska and there was no way he was going to go freeze his ass for his angel. Erg… Castiel. The Angel.

Gothenburg Hill, Nebraska, 11:00 pm

It took everything for the thirty year old man to get out of his car. He felt like he was eighty five. As soon as he was on his feet, his hands resting behind him on his dearest Impala, he bombed his back to stretch. A yawn and a cough after, he looked around him. He was alone. There would be no one to bother him. There would be no one to think him crazy for yelling. There would be no one for him. He scuffed, walked to the edge of the hill and took a glimpse down the cliff. It wasn't such a good idea. The ground was still moving a bit. He took two steps back. He wondered how he even made it here in one piece. He closed his eyes a moment and hesitated. Was he supposed to get on his knees? Or maybe did he have to place his hands together? No. He's do it the old Dean Winchester way. He cleared his throat, took a deep breath and opened his eyes to stare out at the starry night.

"You son of a bitch you better get down here!" he yelled. And then he waited a few seconds – that's how fast Castiel would normally show up – and made a slow three sixty to see if he was there.

"If you don't, I'll- I'll kick your holy ass! And I know you can hear me!" he continued. Still, there was no reply.

"I won't move until you come here." Dean finally said as he walked back to his car. He opened the back door and lied down on the cold leather seat. He wasn't going to fall asleep; he was just going to rest his eyes a bit. He was going to keep his word by staying here. He wrapped himself in his dark brown leather jacket, his green eyes scanning the area around the Impala once more. His eyelids were too heavy; he wasn't able to keep them up. And then he felt soothed.

Everywhere and Nowhere, Time Unknown

Birds were chirping and the sun was shining brightly into the car, its warmth slowly waking the oldest Winchester up. He groaned, shifted on the back seat and slowly realized where he was. He blinked, slowly getting used to so much light, but soon noticed a shadow covering a part of his view. When his sight became clearer, he gasped and sat up quickly.

"You creepy sneaker…" he thought as he grabbed his jacket and turned around to open the opposite door of the one the angel was resting on. When he drew his first breath outside, Dean noticed how the air was cool, but not crisp, and yet, he didn't need that many layers on him to feel warm. He sniffed the air out of curiosity. It smelled of hamburgers. Where in the world was he?

"I heard you call."

"Yeah, well it took you a few damn hours to answer."

"Dean, I-" The angel's voice sounded sad, almost desperate. Dean raised a hand in the air to make him shush. He wasn't God, but he sure could make the other one listen. When the mortal turned around to look at the newly formed God, he saw just how sorry the angel was. His eyes were pleading for forgiveness: a thing Dean wasn't ready to do. At least, not yet.

"You've acted like the most selfish being ever." he started. He wasn't too angry. He was still too tired and was having too much of a hangover to be so quickly. And he was hungry. All of a sudden, a large table appeared in front of him, with plates of fruits, bacon and sausages, fresh pancakes and bread with butter and various jellies, juice and coffee, as well as milk. He chuckled and shook his head. The other one was ready to do anything. He suppressed his hunger.

Ever since Castiel had saved Dean, he had been hanging on his rope, always a few feet off the ground. Dean never really knew how to deal with him; he never really knew how the immortal one felt or what he thought.

"You tell me that you need me-"

Hearing Dean saying those words in his raspy morning voice made Castiel quiver.

"- to bring Lucifer back to his kingdom and keep us safe, and as soon as we do what you want us to do, you just cut me down!"

Dean frowned slightly and corrected himself: "Cut us down."

"Dean… I'm sorry to have brought all this upon you."

"Said God to his people when they were all dead."

"Don't act like a brat." the Angel's voice was stricter. He had left his duties to see him; he wasn't going to let him roll all over him like that. "We both had our reasons for acting the way we have."

Dean raised an eyebrow, his green eyes flashing with anger. How dared he?

"And what were your reasons to turn your back on us?"

"You know them already."

"As I said before, you're part of our family. Raphael's minions are probably all gone now and you had your revenge. You left us back there with Sam going nuts with his memory of him being in Lucifer's cage."

"I'm sorry, Dean."

"Yeah? Well 'sorry' won't cut it this time. I'm here to tell you that-" but Dean stopped talking. Did he really want to get away from Castiel? Was he really ready to give him up? He saw Castiel raise his eyebrows quizzically. Dean pointed a finger at the angel.

"You're the biggest asshole of the universe, you know that?"

Castiel's stare was intense. The air only got colder, which made the mortal shiver.

"You're not the angel Heaven let me think was you." he continued, returning the stare. He wasn't going to back down just yet. But even through the cold wind, something was burning deep inside. It was more than anger and rage; it was something that still felt good. If only he understood what it really was.

"I would have taken another chance; I'd have fallen for you a hundred times if you hadn't let us down so easily. I'd even go back to Hell to save your sorry ass if I had to."

As he spoke, he never realized that Castiel had made his way around the Impala and towards him. They were now face to face, a few inches of emptiness separating them. Dean gasped lightly. His heart was pounding in his chest so loudly he was certain Castiel could hear it. His cheeks were burning hot and he was sure that his ears were red. What was happening to him? Why was he acting like his fifteen year old virgin self? He cleared his throat and turned his head slightly. That was when everything changed. For the worst or the best, it was for others to tell.

Castiel brought a hand to Dean's cheek and caressed it. He could feel the stubbles created by a few days of lack of shaving. Castiel only smirked.

"Castiel…" Dean whispered, almost short of breath by this simple touch.

"Finally."

Dean glanced at him funnily. Castiel continued, with a half but genuine smile:

"You haven't said my name in days, even when you tried to call me."

"I was pissed."

"I know and you were right to be."

"So you're giving up the souls?"

"Not quite yet."

"Fuck, Cas!"

"I'm not done with Crowley."

"You're such an arrogant angel, I can't believe it."

Every time one of them spoke, their bodies drew closer to one another and the tension only rose between them. Their hands were now grazing against each other. Castiel was the first one to take Dean's hand in his, gently holding it. Dean closed his eyes a moment and faced the angel again. Both rested their foreheads on the other one. Castiel sighed lightly. The wind grew stronger around them.

"God, Cas…"

Castiel raised Dean's chin and looked into his eyes. How sweet they now were. There was no more anger. There was…passion.

Their lips finally met. At long last, after years of secret yearning, Castiel and Dean were now one. The leaves on the trees fell to let autumn appear. The angel led the mortal towards the table, both pushing the different foods aside to leave them place.

Dean jumped up on the table, never leaving Castiel's lips except to draw short breaths. Their tongues were intertwining, massaging one another and feeling every inch of their lover's mouth. They were finally getting what they wanted. Dean moaned slightly through the kiss as he felt Castiel's hand find a way under his dark grey shirt. The tips of his fingers were cold.

Castiel hands were travelling Dean's body, discovering every inch and every goosebump that appeared wherever he went. But he was the one surprised. Dean slipped his hands into his coat's sleeves to remove that trench he always wore. It was time for the mortal to see him as a mortal-looking angel. Naked.

Both of them drew back from the kiss at the same time, as if it had been planned, and they both looked at each other. Snow was starting to fall and their breaths were foggy.

"So you have a fantasy of sex in the snow?" Castiel asked, teasingly.

"Idiot."

Dean blushed. It wasn't the reason why he wanted it to be cold around them. He was burning, boiling hot for the angel, the least he could do was to chill his outside temperature. Their gazes were locked as the each removed a part of the other's clothing. First the shirt went off, and then Castiel's blue tie and white blouse were on the now solidly cold ground. They were both shivering, but this was due to a mix of consequence of temperature, excitement and anticipation of what was to come.

Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel's waist and brought him closer to him so that their bodies would keep warm, and began to kiss his jaw line slowly. His lips trailed down to his neck, his Adam's apple and then the curve of his neck only to reach his shoulder.

All this time, Castiel could only close his eyes halfway, enjoying each and every little never exciting feeling. It was better than anything he'd ever felt. He couldn't even describe this burning sensation deep within him. His human, more animal side, just wanted to take Dean right then and there, but at the same time he wanted to show him just how much he had loved and loved him still.

Dean froze as his pants loosened around his hips. Castiel chuckled into his ear and nibbled on his lobe to ease him. Even if he was that famous ladies' man, there was something innocent about him that left the angel wanting more of it.

The green eyed man jumped and wiggled a bit on the table to leave the pants. The shoes and the socks went also.

"It's awkward." Dean whispered before a slight huff. Castiel raised an eyebrow, his blue eyes piercing. God, he looked hot half naked.

"I'm normally the one-"

"On top?"

"How do you-"

"I'm an Angel."

"You're a stalker."

Their kisses started once more, as well as their embraces. Castiel's pants were the next thing to leave his body. When he looked down at his feet, he noticed a few red marks on his upper chest. That Dean was a sneaky one too.

The wind blew stronger around them. He didn't just want to keep cool; the roughness of the wind was controlled by the man's emotions. Castiel only felt more excited by it.

Around the two lovers, a blur of snow lifted up in the air, hiding any mortal and angelic eyes from them.

This was where Dean and Castiel loved each other

Gothenburg Hill, Nebraska, 9:17 am

Dean woke up with an aching body, but with the best memories. He hoped Castiel would come back to him soon, when all of this story with Crowley would be done and he'd be back in Hell. He knew he would get him back. He sat up in the back seat, rubbed his temples a bit and shifted to the driver's seat. That's when he noticed the plate of pancakes on the passenger seat. His lips curled upwards. It hadn't been a dream. Castiel was forgiven even if words hadn't been spoken.

Dean drove off the hill never to come back there again.

Gothenburg Motel, Nebraska, 10:00 am

The youngest Winchester was already up – his pants were too – and he had found a way to bring Castiel back to them. He would have to bring the souls back to the Purgatory, of course, but he wasn't going to do it unless he was forced to.

He heard the Impala pull up in the parking lot that was reserved for it, and watched as his brother entered the motel room.

"So you've been having all the fun while I've been working my ass off?"

Dean winced slightly. Why was he thinking about asses? He was still in pain. Sam noticed the awkwardness in his brother and stared at him quizzically.

"What are the news, Sammy?" he asked as he took his shoes off with one hand. The other was busy holding the pancakes.

"We're going to have to call Death."

"Wait, what?"

"I was able to reach Bobby earlier this morning. He's coming with the spell."

"How'd he get it?"

"Crowley."

"So we're saving you and getting Castiel back?"

"We'll see about me, but Castiel's coming back."

"Thank you, God."