No Pill For The Apocalypse

by Good Question

Destiel End!Verse ; When angels fall, they fall hard and fast. How Castiel crash landed into the Apocalypse. Warnings: Drug use, violence, character death, etc.

1. Part 1

Title: No Pill For The Apocalypse
Rating: M
Pairing:Dean/Castiel,
Spoilers: Through 5.04 "The End"
Warnings: Drug use, character death, sex, violence, general end of the world stuff.
Summary: When angels fall, they fall fast and hard.

Notes; I have no beta. :)

Castiel can not see the future. Trips into the past? Easy enough with a little bit of effort and a concussion when tumbling to the other side. The future, however, with its endless time lines and possibilities is a task he never did have the power for, not even when he was the perfect little soldier and with access to all of Heaven's might. It had never bothered him too much that only the higher angels were capable of manipulating complex time lines such as that. That that he could not rise up to that high of a power ranking.

But now it did, because maybe if he had been able to take visits into the future he could have changed something, maybe sowed Sam's mouth shut, ripped out his tongue, locked him in an angel proof panic room. Maybe if he'd been able to see the future he would have been more insistent in telling Dean to call his brother, to get back in contact with him. Every so often Cas had succeeded. Nights when Dean was too drunk to quite remember why he stopped talking to his brother anyway, and then in the morning it would all be back to normal with a little bit more anger attached and a threat that he would delete Sam's number permanently if Castiel kept pushing it. With a vacancy in Dean's life, Cas had taken it upon himself to assist in the hunts. Especially with how anger and copious amounts of alcohol could make one sloppy. Dean needed someone to watch his back.

Of course although Cas and Dean were essentially hunting together did not mean they were glued at the hip. Yes, he had become what Dean had admitted to 'his best friend' but he had other matters to take care of as well, especially now that Sam and Dean had separated he had to expend mass amounts of energy on a double watch to attempt to keep the angels from finding both brothers. This landed him bleeding in strange caverns and rooms with sloppy sigils drawn with his own blood more than once. These little adventures were not something he shared the details of to Dean. He always made sure to come back healed enough to fight, he was trying to make the man's life easier and not more complicated. Even though the host was trying to seal all of the access to Heaven from him, that couldn't fully happen as long as they were still walking the earth. That thought comforted him and he wasn't intending on falling anytime soon. Things were manageable for a little there.

And then it happened.

The rest of the world was oblivious to it, but with the connection he held with Heaven to his siblings, the sheer power that was pushed through that connection, when; 'Hello brothers and sisters. I am home' exploded through that connection- it ran Castiel through like a canon ball through the gut. He crumbled to the ground clutching at his chest eyes wide, panicked, and terrified. His ears were ringing and he could vaguely feel Dean rushing to kneel next to him yelling 'Cas' and trying to shake him out of his stupor. He let himself rest on his knees and palms and then lifted his head towards Dean who appeared down right terrified of whatever had just happened to him. Looking up into those panicked eyes Cas thought that he truly understood more emotions than he should've had the ability to feel. He felt a coward that instead of using words he decided to use his abilities. He figured Dean would have wanted to drive straight down to Detroit to see for himself and probably get them all killed immediately if he didn't share it metaphysically. So he lifted two gentle fingers to Dean's forehead and let him experience an echo what had just rocked his body. For the rest of that night, the little angel held onto the brave little human as he cursed, and yelled, and cried, and damned the whole world to hell.

That was six months ago. They were still searching for the colt, but now Dean had a new obsession and a much bigger drinking problem, so much so that Castiel had taken it upon himself to learn to drive the Impala. Dean was loath to leave it behind and had a generally dislike of flying. Castiel also took care of making sure the motel rooms were always paid for although they had not hunted in a long time. On one of the first nights that Dean was coherent enough to make conversation the only thing he had asked was "it's possible to leave a host, right?" And it was true, Castiel himself had been dragged forcefully out of his own vessel, taken another and then transferred back to his true vessel. So he answered as honestly as he could and as simply although he knew that if the conversation kept going it would not lead anywhere good. "Yes."

"Then we can drag him out right? Lucifer?"

"In theory."

After that Dean didn't speak for another several weeks as Castiel had slowly meandered them towards Bobby's compound. Cas of course had filled Bobby in immediately after it had happened and they shared a look as Dean stumbled in and raced towards the books. It wouldn't have helped to tell him that Bobby had already gone through those and that there was no book on earth for this situation. While Dean spent his days and nights in the study, passing out halfway through his binges and just starting it all up again the next day Bobby had pulled Castiel aside for a few pointers on what to do to prepare for the worst case, and most probable case, scenario now that Lucifer had his true vessel.

"So the angels still 'round?" Bobby asked as he wheeled himself to the table and handed Cas a beer. They both knew that it wouldn't do much for him but Castiel had learned to accept these small human habits as necessary and natural, it seemed to make them more comfortable around him. He had been learning a lot of new human things.

"Yes." Although conversational skills were still somewhat lacking.

"Figured if they were still 'round we would be hearing more white light destruction on the news," he commented as he took a swig.

Castiel considered this before forming his reply, " The Apocalypse is not something that occurs immediately or overnight as some of your movies have illustrated it. I do not quite recall how it was written in your books, but it is a slow build up. For the past few months Lucifer has been testing his new vessel," a small pause and a glance at Dean, "he is collecting his armies and playing out the small details that are required for his half of the story. I am sure that the angels are doing little things here and there but I would say most if not all, of my brothers and sisters are traditionalist's at best and at worst blindly obedient children without the abilities of critical thought for themselves. The only concept of right and wrong are our Father's word and which is not our Father's word. So they will follow the story as it was told."

Bobby cringed at this and shook his head, "Ya know, I liked the world a lot better when you could at least still have the angels to believe in as cracked as even that was." Bobby had never quite been a believer.

"Your Bible does tend to go awry on some details, I believe one term for it is 'sugar-coated.'"

"No kiddin'."

A brief silence passed, Castiel still not having learned yet how to perpetuate a conversation unless it had a clear start and an ending to reach.

"So, what's the next big blow to expect?"

Castiel took a small sip out of his own beer and rolled the flavor around in his mouth, he didn't quite understand why his human friends drank so much of this. It was a little bit bitter with an odd sweet undercoat that stuck to his tongue. There were so many flavors. Dean had described it as an acquired taste; he was still waiting to acquire it. "As in the breaking of Lucifer from his cage, there are seals that the angels and Lucifer's armies respectively will break to receive access to the powers to conquer the other side. As it so happens there are several pieces of prophecy that are locked up by our Father that need to be uncovered as well as weaponry. The major blow will come from what I believe you know as the Four Horsemen."

Bobby's beer slid from his hand to the table with a clink nodding.

"Although I have faith in my Father; I wonder if he foresaw how convoluted and messy things would be. At the very least it seems convoluted and messy to me. I do not understand why he would lock our weapons away as well if he truly intended to give us peace..." he tilted his head and stared at nothing for a brief moment as if the answers would appear on the peeling wallpaper, "Perhaps it is a necessary evil, I would venture to say a bigger picture occurring but I thought this was the bigger picture. You know there had been whispers by some of our more borderline fallen angels that maybe it was to give Lucifer a chance, since although God punishes he also loves unconditionally. Of course those whispers disappeared with the angels that gave those thoughts birth, Heaven is not a big fan of too much personal ideation," Castiel prattled on, finding in recent times that letting word roll of off his tongue in a torrent without any real purpose or direction once he did get started was strangely therapeutic, his head didn't hurt as much as with conscious thought.

"Thanks for the theology debate Cas but let's get back on topic, the four horsemen, how do we stop them for making Earth their personal playground."

Castiel snapped out of his little moment and stared at Bobby with almost sad eyes, "I am not quite sure. The Heavens are not meant to stop the Four Horsemen, that was not a part of the plan. They will run their course, after which more seals will be broken on our way to the 'final showdown'. I believe if we are being practical, the best we can do is to try and save as many people as possible as we move towards Hell on earth, I wish I could give a better answer than that but," he glanced at Dean, "there is one other option and I do believe we have all already ruled that out."

The hunter was still hunched over the desk pouring over different versions and translations of bibles, ripping out and compiling together any mention of angelic lore which really was not too much, a near empty bottle of Jameson in his fist. The point was still to try and save Sam; which they had all agreed on. Although they still did not know why the boy had said 'Yes' and while Castiel had brought up more than once that the probability of bringing Sam back was zero to none. To be fair they hadn't really ever spoken about any of that, Team Free Will and all that, eventually it had been brought up. Dean saying yes to Michael.

Dean had vetoed that immediately, saying that he was not going to do a 'damn thing' until he was sure there was no way to get Lucifer out of his brother's body and that he was sure as hell not going to play into the "heavenly dick squads" hands. So the world went on around them. Castiel understood however, and still had a hope that he clung to with Dean. That he was right and they were fighting for the right thing and the right way. They had always somehow managed to make long-shots work, the Winchester family had a knack for it, and Dean's was still the brightest and most heartwarming soul in all of Creation. Whatever Dean wanted, happened. And the world went forward a day at a time.

During the next half a year and some change, Castiel's abilities went through interesting fluctuations which he marked up to how well the angels were doing against Lucifer. Dean at this point had made a habit of running off, with a newly angel-protected Impala, after every single lead that he could find for ripping the devil from his brothers body, which was mainly ghost whispers and sweet misconceptions he took as truths.

In the meantime Bobby had enlisted Castiel in the planning and creation of a camp they had finally decided on. They were going to try building an intricate and much more connected network of hunters with small hubs in each more populate area to begin building. Maybe stand a chance of surviving the great show down were Michael to win. Already existing buildings were perfect, and with the spread of demons, the effects of the horsemen, and other natural tragedies the more secluded settlements of humanity had begun to disappear and become vacant for their purposes. Who knew that the apocalypse would be sneaky and fringe in from the secluded countryside's. Maps were drawn out of the largest abandoned camp compounds and the easiest ways to connect them, as well as if things got to the worst of their worst how they would get to supplies and what to begin moving into certain areas.

In addition to making preparations for this Bobby had started taking Castiel on the new version of hunts, trying to stop as much damage from leaking spreading and giving as many people as possible the fighting chance. It was taking its toll on the young angel.

On one of their brushes with War, brief as it was, Castiel had found himself in a need for new clothing, the battle having ripped his only set to shreds and he did not have the grace to waste on its repairs as he pulled himself and the hunters that had come with them from the infected area to crash land at Bobby's. He hadn't even had the energy to try and get the supplies they had left behind back. "What the hell?" was the last thing he heard one of the hunters say as he swayed and collapsed to the ground in front of porch. He had angel proofed the inside of the house, and there was only one way for him to enter and that was someone on the inside removing the seal to let him in temporarily and then locking the place up again, trapping him inside until it was removed once more. They were more hidden than anything, too strong of a protection sigil would boot him out of the building as well. They had joked about building him an angel wing of the house.

When he came to he was in a different set of clothing, it felt foreign to him and uncomfortable but that was not his biggest worry.

"Hey, look, the Christmas ornament is awake," one of the hunters said with a good natured smile, Castiel had long grown used to their little quips about his existence. At least most of the people he had met took his existence in stride as truth. It was odd that he now thought fondly of Dean's initial reaction to him, a knife through the chest.

Castiel sat up with a groan and nodded to the group of men. "I did not expect the landing to be quite so rough," he admitted as another man came forward and tossed him a beer.

"A little warning would have been nice, you damn near bounced Bobby out his wheel chair," the man laughed having shaken off the surprise of flying with angel air while Cas had been unconscious.

Castiel felt himself smile.

"Hey."

Cas turned his head towards the door to find his favorite human being standing there. Although he knew that Dean's hunts were not necessarily getting him anywhere, the trips had helped him focus on something. He was a little less drunk these days, and a little more focused. Sometimes they could almost pretend that the apocalypse wasn't happening. Although Castiel would never admit out loud to it, he knew that a part of the reason that Dean had begun to push himself back from his island of isolation was also because of the few dream trips that Castiel had let himself have in Dean's head, tweaking it with relaxed images instead of the constant hurricane of bad memories that generally plagued him at night. It was like dealing with a skittish horse and Castiel always made sure not to push it too far.

"Hello Dean."

Dean walked into the living room and shook hands and shared smiles with the other hunters as he went and got himself a beer settling down on a chair next to where Cas had been laying on the couch. "You look ridiculous."

Castiel looked down at himself. Ridiculous was not the word he had chosen to use at his new attire. Instead he frowned and asked where his usual clothing was.

Dean laughed and scrubbed the back of his neck with the palm of his hand, "You were practically naked apparently, when you landed. Not surprised, the amount of mojo it must've taken for you to escape a horseman with a handful of hunters in tow. Didn't leave any for your magic seamstress routine. They were thrown out before I got here."

Cas felt himself nod and frowned a bit pulling at the t-shirt he was wearing. He could tell they were Dean's old clothes. "Holy tax-accountant doesn't seem right for the apocalypse anyway I suppose." The first humor that Castiel had come to understand was dark humor.

Dean approached him that evening as he sat recovering in what had been created into his bedroom. He still did not require sleep he occasionally required a recharge. There was a knock on the door before he barged in. Judging by the somewhat languid movements Dean had found the whiskey. Castiel swung his legs over the side of the bed and pulled out a bottle from the drawer next to his bed and poured himself and Dean a glass. Dean saw down next to Cas without a word and took the glass that had been offered and chugged it down. They sat like that in silence for a while, Cas refilling Dean's glass and Dean knocking them back.

"There's nothing powerful enough to rip Lucifer out of Sam's body is there?"

Cas glanced at the hunter and wrung his hands together, taking a deep breath. "Nothing that would be willing to do it." A bitter laugh escaped Dean.

"And Lucifer's not just going to volunteer to leave it is he?" Dean poured himself some more swaying a little bit. Cas almost wanted to take the bottle away from him but had a feeling it would just end up with a punch to the jaw and a broken wrist for Dean.

"Highly improbable."

And then Dean did something strange.

Castiel shut down his surprise as Dean's head planted itself firmly on Castiel's shoulder, cheek rubbing against the soft fabric of the shirt. He knew better than to ask Dean if he was 'all right', it would be a stupid question. So instead he sat there stone still, letting Dean collect within himself whatever he was trying to get out. He felt helpless and mournful, much like he had felt while sitting at Dean's hospital bedside all those years ago as he let tears slip at the weight on his shoulders.

"You know Cas," Dean slurred out with impressive enunciation for a man that intoxicated. "At least you're here."

Castiel blinked and stared down at the man, "Of course I am. Where else would I be?"

Dean laughed and used Cas's arm to push himself back straight, shaking his head, "It's really fuckin' sad that I'm pretty sure you mean that." He shook his head. "Nah man. I mean... like you're still you. A little rougher around the edges but still ya know... " at this Dean waved his hand around as if Castiel could fill in the blank.

"No I'm afraid I do not know."

"That!" Dean said lurching forward a bit and jabbing Castiel in the chest, Cas still didn't understand but at least Dean was smiling, so he didn't say anything else. Dean settled himself back against Castiel's shoulder.

Some of this he did understand, he had a vast knowledge what humans did and in what situations but comfort like this wasn't exactly Dean's regular behavior, and especially not towards another male or a comrade despite being best friends. Cas had found out a long time ago that he enjoyed being Dean's favorite of anything and was enjoying the unique touch he was allowed to experience. Dean's favorite angel, his favorite friend. "The world's really going to hell huh?" And those words sounded so defeated that Castiel reacted on an impulse he had kept tucked away inside of himself and reached a hand across Dean's shoulder and pulled him in. Human's enjoyed physical contact, correct? Instead of pushing him away or freezing up Dean relaxed a little and closed his eyes, shaking his head to himself. "And I started it."

"Dean, I believe we have had this conversation before. I have never, and still do not envy the weight upon your shoulders. You have the soul of a righteous man and that is not an easy soul to exist in. There is no blame, no guilt, no self-hatred that you should feel. No man could have lasted as you had. Destiny is a cruel and wicked thing with no care for the living little things that battle for the big picture."

"They said dad lasted for a hundred years," Dean murmured.

"Your father is not you, and I assure you no matter what the demons whispered to you, you did not go through the same hellish experience Dean. You can not possibly compare yourself to other people, or creatures even. Your forty years may well have been the equivalent of his hundred, or another's two-thousand. No one can understand that."

Dean looked up with a strange expression in his eye, inching his face further towards Cas's. "You do."

Castiel smiled and tilted his head to the side to better catch Dean's eyes. "Of course I do. I know your soul better than you know it yourself. I rebuilt you, atom by atom."

At this, Dean's eyes seemed to spark with a little more life, "And you're still here."

"And I'm still here," Castiel repeated after him, "and Dean Winchester, I will always be here. Because I believe in you."

"Oh Cas," Dean laughed, "you stupid little angel. Just like everything in my life, you'll break too." Dean's chest filled and roared with bitterness, anger, and a terribly gut wrenching sadness. Awful roils of emotions that felt like lighting streaking through his body had been lashing out at him every day of his life since the day everything went to hell for him. But at least there had always been a little safe place where things became a little calmer inside of him that he could sometimes reach, and that little place, sitting here next to Cas became a little more solid and the more Cas spoke the more that little safe place flared out fighting viciously against those emotions that made him feel sick. He had noticed a while ago that Castiel helped him feel not as sick, and had chalked it up as being an angel thing although he knew it not to be true.

Sober Dean would tell you he was desperate. Sober Dean would tell you that he just needed to see something else in his life fall, and making an angel fall would be perfect self-punishment. His favorite angel. Sober Dean would also probably tell you he was too wasted to realize that the person under him was a man, despite his very publicized appreciation of Dr. Sexy. But Sober Dean would also know better. He stared into Cas's eyes for a long time, contemplating some of the feelings and had a small moment of mourning for what this wonderful sense of loyalty and absolute caring would eventually do to the angel, but at the moment he had cared more about holding onto to that little life line that Castiel had always offered him and moved forward to latch onto it the only way he knew how. He was only human after all.

Dean reached up with his hand and slid his fingers into Cas' hair on the back of his neck, playing with the soft strands before using it to tug Castiels' highly confused face towards him and planting his lips snugly against the angels. Sober Dean would also not let on at just how surprised he was that he had actually enjoyed that contact the same way he had when he kissed a woman, it was a little rougher but the lips were just as soft, just as warm, and just as tasty. To Drunk Dean's luck, just as some strange explosions of what resembled shame and the wave of awkwardness that he was about to experience when he remembered just who he was kissing; Cas responded. It had taken him awhile to react, having gone through his infinite catalog of knowledge on kissing and getting over his apprehension to attempt it. It required much more work than he had thought to have his vessel respond correctly. He pulled back a little and placed his hands on either sides of Dean's face, still surprisingly smooth and un-scarred due to Castiel's healing abilities despite everything that had happened in the almost now year.

"Dean?" Castiel questioned, his eyes narrowing and brow knitting together in confusion, he did not want to take advantage of the man. Cas did not have a problem with this, he never would have. He was only vaguely aware of the concept of gender. The concept of a human gender binary baffled him and had known long ago that he loved the man in front of him. Especially living in a body without physical needs it had been easy for him to ignore the sexual component as well. Angels could of course have sex, but it was something more of a whim than anything that needed to happen. He had long ago analyzed and made an opinion of exactly what Dean would and would not do with him, but angels could make mistakes.

"Please don't talk, if you want this, don't talk," Dean mumbled, grabbing Castiels hands and pushing them away from his face so that he could go claim another kiss.

He did it softly again to gather the response but as the angel, as per command, kept his mouth shut and only pushed back gently and timid, he brought up his arms to Castiel's shoulders and pushed him back onto the bed. Sliding on top of him, amused at the confused look the angel shot him, he leaned down slowly, enjoying the way that his lips tingled every time Cas exhaled and the air brushed across them. Although he knew he would be running the show, he did not want to run the show with something unresponsive; he was happy to be getting any level of reaction from the angel underneath him. He figured that since Castiel had gone to his bed that he was drained enough to be more susceptible to human sensations the way they were normally experienced, or at least that was his hope as he put his theory to the test. He weaved fingers through Castiels hair again and tugged his head to the side, noticing the interesting break in Cas's breathing and the sharp inhale. Gaining confidence he leaned down and ran his tongue around the outside edge of Cas's ear, swirling it briefly into the small spiral on the inside and then nibbling on the soft skin. He pulled back to try something else, thinking that this wasn't something that was a particular turn on for the angel but went back to it once he saw Castiel's face. Those all knowing eyes were glistening, his face a little flush and his mouth hanging open slightly breathy; controlled but shallow. It was a start.

Dean dipped his head back down and tugged a bit harder on the angel's hair to angle him for better access. The nibbled his way along Cas's ear, dragging his tongue down from the inside and breathing softly into it. He dipped his tongue in and out, essentially ear fucking him, and finally got a small moan as a reward for his efforts. Dean let himself slide down a little and bit at Cas's neck just below his ear and was rewarded immediately with a small sharp intake of breath from the man underneath him and a low, quiet, short moan of pleasure. Smirking to himself he dragged his teeth down the angel's neck and bit a little harsher than he would have completely sober, into the hollow between Cas's neck and the shoulder. The angels hands flew up to grab Dean by his shoulders, fingers digging in hard enough to get through Dean's muddled brain for a second to look at the angel again. "Everything okay?"

Castiel nodded but held onto the hunter tightly. The concept of human interaction was one thing, to experience it was another, especially with his mojo so drained. Angels did not quite interact physically the same way that humans did, in fact the physical was more of an idea to them, the same way that the level that angel's existed on was more of an idea to humans. The most he had done in his vessel was a brief hug here and there, a touch of a hand on a shoulder. This, this was something else that left him confused and buzzing and not quite sure at all how to react, especially without him being able to experience more than he usually could. He felt very vulnerable. "I do not quite understand what is going on in my body," Castiel admitted, straightforward. Everything the hunter had done to him had just sent sharp little electric sparks around his body. At this Dean laughed and seemed to relax, a small part of his brain finally kicking back in and reminding him that 'oh shit, yeah, virgin.'

He glanced down the line of Castiels body and in his haze didn't hesitate to let his hand trail down and cup Cas's dick into his palm. He wasn't fully hard but he was getting there, and the little gasp from Cas and the twitch and pulse against his hand assured him that was he was doing felt good, and that he didn't have to stop. He looked back at Castiel smirking, "You're turned on."

The concept confused him, what was turned on? He didn't think that humans had some sort of physical switch but vaguely figured this was probably another one of those human statements he was taking too literally. Dean straddled him and ground his hips against him, taking Cas's hands in his own and letting them rest on his hips knowing he would need something to hold on to and probably had no idea what to do with his hands anyway, this seemed like an easy out.

Dean watched in drunken amusement as he rocked slowly, Cas starting to nibble at his lip every time Dean's ass slid over his now hard cock. Had Castiel ever even been hard before? Dean wondered. He didn't think the angel masturbated, that seemed a little like unholy behavior even to him (although hot, very hot), but there has to have been some time the angel had found something he was attracted to. Now he was thinking too much to concentrate on what he was doing. He was still lazily loving on Castiel, slow grinds his own breath getting more shallow, leaning down to pepper Castiels neck with more bites and kisses, but there was one thing for drunken sex, and another for completely smashed introspective sex, which was usually fine if the other partner was more aggressive but that didn't seem to be in the cards at the moment with Castiel so overwhelmed with whatever was going on in the angels brain at the moment.

"Thinkin' thing needsta stop," he mumbled out loud his eyes finally starting to blur a bit, his body catching up to the fact that he was in fact royally smashed. Alcohol always won, it was just a matter of when.

"Dean?" Castiel asked unsure as the hunter swayed slightly above him, with a small pout on his lips. The confusion pulled him out of his own body enough to manage to sit up, tugging Dean with him into his arms, and wrapping them around him tightly. Hugs he had gotten down, hugs he knew. Dean nuzzled into his neck and leaned into the angels chest. His mouth was still sending pleasured sparks of fire through Castiel's neck down along his body but they seemed less... hurried now than they had been, although Dean had taken his own sweet time when he had started. "You are very drunk," Castiel observed plainly not knowing quite what else to say at the moment.

"Only a little," Dean replied slurring the l's in the word, breath hot on Cas's neck.

That was when Castiel decided he needed to do more research into the parts of human life that weren't purely practical. That Castiel needed to learn more of these human motions, especially when he had found one that he quite liked. He preferred it definitely to his little experiment of eating and pain and bug bites. But he had none of that at his arsenal at the moment so he did what he could do. He mimicked what Dean had done to him earlier, and moved his hand from around Dean's back to the back of his neck, although the hair was terribly short towards the back to he could still somewhat twine his fingers through into it. He pulled the hunters head back and felt a warm surge of pride in himself and Dean made a satisfied noise in his throat letting himself be pulled up. Castiel gripped tighter and watched as Dean's lips parted, and his eyes slid half closed, another satisfied groan lifting from his throat. He leaned forward as he pulled Dean's face in closer and placed his mouth at Dean's neck biting and nipping as Dean had done, it was a very active way of learning. The harder he bit and the more he let his tongue swirl around the little dip in Dean's shoulder the more of those noises that sent that unfamiliar fire through him he got. Castiel found he rather liked this. He was vaguely aware, as he brought his face back up and decided to test out kissing again (this time with the experimental additions of his tongue sliding along the hunters lips; Dean seemed to enjoy it on his skin well enough), that one of the arms around him had left and was sliding down between them. Cas rolled his hips a little as Dean had done, although it was a little more difficult in this sitting up position, and nibbled at Dean's lower lip as the man sucked in a sharp tug of air. Cas was finally getting the hand of it as Dean's hand fumbled with their zippers, Cas pushing himself closer to Dean's hand every time it brushed against him, when Dean stopped and pulled back, leaving Cas breathless and confused for what seemed like the millionth time that night.

"Dean, I don't understand, what?"

Dean's eyes were still swimming in that drunken stupor, some of the sadness melted out of them, a dark humor filling them now. Dean pointed down with a sigh and a 'oh fuck my life' type of laugh, "Whiskey dick."

Castiel's eyebrows scrunched up as he tried to understand this new terminology, he was learning a lot tonight, fighting against the beating of his heart and the heat that Dean had created between them.

"I still do not understand what the liquor has to do with male human anatomy."

Dean shook his head to himself and laughed once again, somewhere between the last of him spiraling into the last of the alcohol and the sober part him trying to run after it nausea and a headache in tow. "Dun' worry 'bout it Cas," he said lazily, eyes starting to droop as the world began to spin a little. "Stupid human shit."

This, was another thing Castiel understood. He had spent enough nights around Dean as he binged and the other hunters to know that Dean needed water and food, and then bed. Assuming that Dean would not feel offended if Castiel stopped what they were doing he helped the hunter roll off of him and gently propped him up against the headboard of the bed. "I will return shortly, you need sustenance," he said gently, pulling back.

"I don't need no sassy-tence," Dean slurred out pulling Castiel back in towards him. "I need me an angel," he whispered into Castiels ear, nibbling at it again.

Cas rolled his shoulders to gain more control of himself and pulled Dean back and nibbled on his lower lip, Dean's mouth opening for him and his tongue sliding across the underside of the angels upper lip, trying to get him to open up. Instead Castiel pulled back and smiled, "You have an angel. I will be back." He said pulling out of Dean's weakening grasp and heading downstairs to get him something to eat. It would have been much easier if he was fired up enough just to fly himself to the kitchen but he figured Dean could handle himself for five minutes. He gathered up a bottle of water from the pantry and a packet of salted crackers that he had been assured were some of the best neutral things to feed a drunken man to make sure it wasn't too heavy or flavorful that it triggered wretching.

By the time Castiel had reached his own room and bumped the door open with his hip it wouldn't have mattered what he had picked out. Dean had passed out, having slid down from the headboard and sprawled himself across most of the bed, mouth hanging open and snores filling up the room. A gentle smile graced Cas's lips as he walked over, setting the food and water on the other side of the bed on the table there for Dean to have in the morning. He knew the basics of what was pleasurable for human sleep and gently stripped Dean, taking time to admire the body underneath. He left Dean's boxers on knowing that he preferred to sleep in them (although Castiel had discovered for himself he enjoyed sleeping without any clothing on) and maneuvered him as best he could under the blankets. He turned the light off and stripped down himself, and lifted the other side of the blanket, crawling into bed and separating the two pillows he had so that he and Dean could each have one instead of the tower he usually used. He still didn't have a perfect grasp on human etiquette, especially with males sleeping together in the same bed as it had never come up, but he left the respectable personal space distance that he could between them. He stayed that way, edged to bed for most of the night until his need to recharge finally pulled him into a half-conscious state, as his body relaxed and rolled a little further back from the frigid straight line on his side that he had held himself in.

Dean woke up the next morning brain hammering against his skull even before he could form the conscious thought of 'I'm awake'. He couldn't decipher what time it was, the room was dark and for that he was grateful. He groaned as the pressure behind his eyes turned into a sharp sting and pushed his arm into them to try and make it go away. His other hand groped around near where he assumed his night stand was only to realize that he was sleeping rather far away from where he usually wedged himself. Grumbling he inched himself forward, attempting to open his eyes and then shutting them tightly as the extra light stung. He finally felt solid wood connect with his finger as they slid down to open the drawer and grab another. The best cure for a hangover. His frown at the world deepened as he fumbled around inside of the drawer and did not find his usual stash and instead came to touch a gun he knew wasn't his. Taking a deep breath to ready himself he forced his eyes open, letting them swim a little bit. He saw a figure at the corner of the room at a dresser pulling on a pair of pants over a well shaped ass. Something about him seemed very familiar. Dean's eyes were still blurred from sleep as he tried to rub at them to clear it up. The figure turned towards him and walked around to the side of the bed he had scooted himself away from, picking up something from the table next to it and bringing it over, sitting down gently in the space that was left open from the gap between his hips and the end of the bed.

"Water, advil, crackers," a familiar gravely voice said.

"Cas?!" Dean said as his eyes sprung wide open, taking in the room briefly, as well as noting he was only in boxers and a glance towards the ground at the shirt Cas had been wearing last night. This wasn't his room. This wasn't his bed.

"Here, sit up, you were quite intoxicated last night. I have water and food, and pain killers, is there anything else needed for a hangover?" Castiel replied holding out the mentioned items in his hands towards Dean.

Grumbling and his brain not quite functioning yet he grabbed the items and sat up with a groan. He felt very sore and blearily looked around the room. Okay, drunk, that was one part of the puzzle. His head ached as he tried to get the rest of his brain to catch up with the rest of the clues. Oh. Drunk. Bed. Keeping a small bit of panic down as certain thoughts popped up in his head he looked for alternatives.

"Sorry if I kicked you out of your bed last night, must've been pretty smashed to just pass out," he said hoping that he had just become obscenely hammered and then crawled into a bed he thought was his own, although he vaguely remembered walking in here to talk.

"You were very smashed, and you did pass out eventually, but you did not kick me out of my bed, we were both comfortable as far as I could perceive," Castiel replied evenly standing up, content that Dean was going to eat and picking his shirt off of the floor.

A swarm of butterflies, tho' the speed at which they were batting at the inside of his stomach made it feel more like a swarm of wasps, gripped Dean as he sputtered around the sip he had just taken. Two guys could totally sleep next to each other in bed. 'Comfortable.' He thought. 'Passed out eventually.' Still completely normal behavior. His head hurt more. Instead of focusing on the uncomfortable thoughts racing through his brain he tried to find a distraction from the conversation. "Since when do you keep a gun next to your bed?" he grumbled out stuffing his face with crackers, swallowing them down and wincing as they scraped down his throat, better than thinking about the feelings swimming around in him.

"Since I am unable to smite things when my energy has been drained. I was informed by your fellow hunters it was probably best to keep one on hand for those situations," Castiel explained pulling the shirt on over his head.

Dean stared cautiously at him for a little too long, causing small lines of confusion to spread over the angels face. Castiel leaned in with curious eyes to try and discern what was wrong, it was not just a hangover. Dean really wished he hadn't, because as the angel got closer his eyes darted to the skin that was exposed by the droop of the t-shirt (one of Dean's again, a bit too large for Cas's small frame) and saw the little red marks that ran up from just above the collarbone and up his neck. If Dean had had less of a bravado to hold onto he might have made a panicked squeak, instead he set his jaw tight, took a deep breath through his noise (which he regretted immediately with Cas so close to him, because the way he smelled was awfully familiar), and leaned back trying to pull his eyes away from the marks.

Confused Castiel traced where Dean's eyes had rested and the sudden sense of anxiety that had erupted from what he saw. 'Oh,' he thought. He hadn't even noticed that Dean's lips had left marks on his skin. He found he enjoyed that, it reminded him of the hand print singed into Dean's bicep. He smiled to himself, a little pleased and ran a tentative finger over them. Dean coughed nervously at this his own face trying to figure out an expression to make. He tried to joke about it. "Have a bad run in with a straightener?" That was an excuse girls used right? For hickies?

Castiel tilted his head and shook it, "No, I believe the human word for these is..." he paused and scanned his head, Dean had a brief mental image of the angel typing something into a search engine and hitting 'go', it almost amused him enough to make him smile. Almost. "Hickies."

Dean's breath screeched to a halt and water spilled over the rim of the water bottle he had been clutching. His brain scrambled for any escape rope to hold onto to. Weakly he laughed trying for nonchalant but failing, "Haha, oh. Our angel finally get rid of the big 'v'? Congrats."

"No, we didn't get that far," was Castiel's deadpanned response.

Two things happened to Dean at once. A simultaneous heart attack from the word 'we' and the defibrillation that followed by the words 'no'. He was luckily saved from having to respond to that by someone calling for Cas downstairs. With a quick glance at Dean who tried to put on his best 'I'm fine just fried from the alcohol' face, and disappeared out the door. He was also saved from any of his immediate thoughts and his brain rattling too hard but the nausea coiling up in him from the hangover. Water would do no good now, it would just give him something else to throw up. He made a dizzied way over to the bathroom and for the first time felt grateful to have a violent roar in his head and a burning in his throat. First time he was grateful for a hangover so that he didn't have to think. The apocalypse really did turn shit upside down.

When he managed to get himself sobered up enough to put himself into the shower, clean off, dash into his room for a new set of clothes without any notice from anyone, and downstairs his nerves about waking up in Castiel's bed slipped away at the expressions the people in the kitchen were wearing. Bobby looked up at him as he walked in confused.

"St. Louis just got blasted off the map," Bobby said grabbing a beer and throwing it in his direction.

Numbly Dean caught it with practiced reflexes and popped it open. There had been battles and pain and suffering so far but it had yet to have reached this scale of annihilation. There were only two other people in the room, Cas and Yagger. Yagger grabbed the remote and flipped on the small TV they had set up in the kitchen. Blasted off the map had not been just a phrase Bobby had chosen to use, satellite pictures raced across the screen all of them showing a huge crater with a destroyed blast radius of several smaller cities around it.

"I believe... we may have to move more expediently on our refuge camp plans, there after effects will be unpleasant." Castiel said absentmindedly, staring at the screen.

The next year was just that. Well, not only that. Cas helped out mainly with the creation of the camp and networking, bouncing between cities faster than anyone could drive and transporting people, information and spplies. Dean spent half of his time at the camp and the other half on missions, training people he could having abandoned the quest, at least temporarily that he could beam Lucifer out of the body. It was hectic, and rushed, and none of it easy.

Especially for Cas.

Maybe if the world hadn't been churning so quickly, maybe if they had all assumed that as an angel Cas was invincible, and maybe if Dean hadn't been running from that night with Cas and how little he could remember of it, they would've noticed the little angel over-extending himself. Castiel had just finished blasting them through a hot wave of demons flooding into the New York City metro, leaving a crumpling of half burned bodies behind, their eyes burned out, reaching the top of the landing and grabbing a hold of the three crumpled men on the ground and concentrating on the physical nature of the boxes they had been protecting to make sure they all made it back to the camp fine. They landed with a crash and a skid, there were shouts from the other people in the camp. With a little bit of research and digging they had been able to modify some of the angel seals to be mostly angel proof but not Cas proof, most of the people there we used to the crashes. Bobby wheeled himself over to the new comers, one of them being a scared and sputtering Chuck (how he had ended up in New York was anyone's guess at that point but they were just glad they finally pin pointed the prophet.)

"Hey," he said weakly nodding to Bobby. He'd never met the man but of course knew who he was. He let go of the chest that he had been crumpled over and moved it closer to the approaching group.

"Where's Cas?" Bobby asked gruffly as the other two hunters, Darren and Ricky moved to help the other figure up, making sure the boxes hadn't cracked and let out the cursed objects they held.

"I think there were still some guys down in the metro," Chuck gasped out, throat dry, he smiled gratefully as someone handed him a water bottle. "Pretty sure he went back for them."

Sure enough not soon after there was a loud thud next to them and two other hunters appeared in the dirt, disheveled and dirty but otherwise looking quite hole. "I miss vampires," one of them said wistfully, rolling onto his back. They were only so many demon killing knives to go around, and only one smitey angel. They shared a grim laugh and the man turned around to try and thank Cas for coming back for them, they had agreed the cursed objects and the prophet were a priority. "What the hell?"

They looked around confused, an uneasy feeling settling between them. "CAS?!"

Chuck struggled up, his visions hadn't been quite as clear since the apocalypse had started, most of it too much to handle and mainly just people dying, and this was one of those moments where he wished he had been more clued it and the visions clearer.

"Cas!?" They spread out looking for him, spreading across the forested area that was still left inside of the camp and going around the remnants of old wrecked cars that had barely made it to the camp after a skirmish.

"Oh no," Chuck whispered as he came upon a crumbled figure with its head smashed through an old silver Honda's windshield. "Hey," not loud enough, "HEY GUYS. FOUND CAS!" He moved forward through the overgrown grass and winced as his shoes cracked pieces of glass underneath him. "Oh no," he whispered again shaking his head, gently moving to the other side.

Shockingly his head wasn't completely cracked open and his brains leaking out, but that didn't make it any better. Castiel's head had stopped moving forward when it had hit the steering wheel, sharp jagged pieces of glass embedded in his head and blood leaking freely across his face. That seemed to be the worst of the damage as he gingerly reached out a hand to try and see if there was bleeding anywhere else. There was, he winced as he saw what appeared to be a small piece of bone sticking out from the shirt at his chest, at least one of his ribs had broken and smashed through his skin upwards, which was a better alternative than into his lungs.

"You found him? Where is h-" the words died down in Bobby's throat as he stopped before the grass tied up the wheels of his wheelchair and held his breath. Now this, had never happened before. He had been tired, weak, but never so out of it that he had crash landed in quite that matter, especially when he had somehow managed to get all the other boys back safely. "MEDIC!" he yelled out to the approaching group, nodding to each other was one of the took off. "Check the damage," he barked at one of the approaching men. They pushed Chuck to the side and started to separate Castiel's broken body from the car.

A/N: Dusting off the cobwebs from this story and re-publishing it. Originally written a few years ago.