Castiel had long since given up.
He'd given up his faith, his father, his family, his wings. He knew beyond a doubt that God was no longer listening, and hadn't been for quite a long time. Every now and again he would remember something his father used to tell the angels: that they were beautiful creatures, bright and strong and wonderful. He'd shake another pill into his hand and swallow it dry every time thoughts like those came into his mind.
He buried himself in women, shame and disappointment oozing from his pores in every action he took. If he was being honest with himself—which he usually wasn't—the disappointment was for himself, not even for his brethren, or his comrades, or his father. He hid himself behind sex and pills and sleepless nights, not worrying about what would happen because he was too caught up in slowly destroying himself.
It was late at night when Dean found him, lying on his stomach on the floor, arms cradling his head as he flew high above it all, not remembering just how many pills he'd taken, but knowing it hadn't been enough to kill him. Yet. He made a noise, something soft and unintelligible to let Dean know that he knew he was there. Even from the way he walked, the way he breathed, Cas knew it was not his Dean, it was the Dean from a previous time, five whole years before the mess of life had turned him into the crazed leader Cas hid from.
"I wanted to talk to you," Dean said slowly, unsure where he stood with his hands open at his sides.
Cas didn't need to see his face to know that the corners of his lips were turned down, his eyes were looking anywhere but the former angel, and his head was bowed just a little. "About what?" he managed to mumble in reply, turning his face slightly so that he could peek out and see Dean's boots through half-lidded, glazed eyes.
"What..." Dean started, but he trailed off in a huff of a sigh. "Why?"
Silent for a long moment, Cas breathed calmly, slowly. Finally, he lifted himself onto his elbows and then to his knees, crossing his legs beneath him and looking up at the man before him. He laughed suddenly. The sound was harsh and grating to his own ears and he dropped his chin to his chest, glaring at his hands. He needed more pills if they were going to have this talk. So he stood, and stepped around Dean towards a shelf that held all of his various drugs, picking one up at random. "Why indeed."
"Cas—" A hand gripped his wrist as Dean turned to follow him, stopping him from twisting the cap off. "Please, man, talk to me."
"What should I say, Dean?" Cas replied hotly, turning his face away.
Cas shook his arm free, but put the bottle back on the shelf, forcing himself to take a step away.
"You're... ruining yourself, Cas." Dean's voice was soft, but full of hurt and anger, like he was the one betrayed by this turn of events.
The former angel scoffed. "Guess I learned something from you after all," he said, locking eyes with the other man. Almost immediately, he felt regret rip through him at the shocked and pained expression that shrouded Dean's face at those words. "Dean, I—"
But Dean was already turning, walking away. "Fuck you, man." He stopped at the door, turning his head enough to talk over his shoulder, but not enough to actually look back at Cas. "I was going to say that I'm sorry, that you deserve better. But you don't. Not from me."
With that, he was gone, and Castiel stared at the doorway in silence, eyes wide as tremors shook through him.
He wasn't sure how long he stood there, trapped between wanting to run outside and follow Dean to the ends of the earth, or to fall to the floor in despair and cry until he could cry no more. The two sides of him battled in a haze, and not for the first time, probably not the last either, Cas felt a flash of hate for the pills he'd come to rely on.
He wanted to put the blame on God, for it was he who had given Cas faith, and hope, and then taken it all away, replacing it with pain and confusion. He wanted to blame Lucifer and Michael, his brothers who were the cause of all this madness in the first place. He wanted to blame Dean for not helping him when it was he that Cas needed most. But he knew the only person he could truly blame was himself.
"Guess I learned something else from you too, huh," he whispered aloud, blinking slowly as his shoulders stooped and his breath came out in a deep sigh. "Who am I kidding...?" The former angel took a step forward, and then another.
He made it outside and suddenly the steps became easier, his chest wasn't so tight, and his eyes weren't so glassy. Before he knew it, right, left, right, left, right, left became a mantra in his head that pushed him into a run. Cas didn't know where Dean had gone, but if he really was the man that Cas had known for so long, there was one place he was sure Dean could be found.
It took him an extra ten minutes to actually remember where it was, but once he saw the old, beat up Impala, he felt his lungs heave in relief. There, sitting in the driver's seat, was Dean, his arms pillowing his head against the dash where there once was a steering wheel. Cas skidded to a halt just a few feet away and silently gazed at him for a moment before moving quietly around the car and brushing aside some leaves and dirt to sit in the passenger seat.
For a few minutes, neither of them said a word. Cas wondered to himself what was going through Dean's head, and for a fleeting second remembered when he could just reach out his grace a little and find out. Shoving the thought away, he turned his head and stared at the dirt covered dash, trying to not think about when he used to be an angel. When he used to be able to do things, help people. When he wasn't so... broken.
Finally Dean spoke, haltingly though, as if he wasn't sure of what he was saying. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
Cas didn't know if he was done talking, but after another few minutes of silence, he figured it was his turn to speak. "I need you," he muttered slowly. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the other man turn his head towards him a little. "You told me that once, well future you did. When I was fully without my grace I... I didn't know what to do. I was going to leave. You stopped me. But all I've done since then is drown myself in—in everything. I hate being around you now because you look at me like I'm something detestable, something so damaged I won't ever be fixed."
"Cas—"
"I won't be, though, Dean. You're right. I have ruined myself. Everything I am now, is by my own hand."
"Cas, I didn't mean—" Dean interjected.
But Cas held up a hand to stop him. "I know." He turned towards Dean, finding the man sitting up and leaning towards him. The hand he had raised reached out of its own accord to rest on Dean's cheek. Seconds passed, and Cas was about to take his hand back, the motion to jerk it away and stop himself already moving down his arm.
Then Dean's hand was on top of his, holding it in place, and all of Cas' thoughts were aborted. Dean's eyes were locked on his, green filled with so many emotions that it would take Cas hours just to sort them all out. So he didn't, he just focused on the slight reflection he could see of himself in Dean's pupils, the lights from camp just reaching out to touch them with tiny tendrils.
"How long have you...?" Dean trailed off, words failing though the crinkle in his brow told all.
"Forever," Cas said with a twitch of his lips. He shrugged. "Long enough."
"So my—"
"Yeah." There was a pregnant pause.
Abruptly, Dean launched forwards, his hand shooting to latch onto Cas' shoulder as their mouths met in a harsh kiss that stole away the breath inside Castiel's aching chest. He cradled Dean's face, stroking his cheeks and his jaw with fingers that had itched to do so for years, no, eons. Now, Cas had experience kissing. Hell his sexual exploits probably closely matched even those of Dean's by that point. But nothing, no woman, no kiss ever felt like Dean. Dean felt pure. Dean felt rough and passionate. He felt warm and sexy.
He felt good. He felt like something Cas hadn't felt in a very long time.
"Dean I—I need you," Cas told him breathlessly, panting the words against his lips.
Without saying anything, Dean tugged his shoulders, falling back and pulling Cas on top of him so that they were more or less laying across the seat. Their kisses went from needy and rough to hot and sweet, slowing into something so heady that it had Cas moaning loud when Dean sucked on his bottom lip. The former angel ran his tongue across the stubble growing on Dean's cheek and jaw. Moving down his neck with open-mouthed kisses, he sucked a bruise onto Dean's collarbone and slid his hands underneath Dean's shirt across his ribs.
"Cas, man, I—" Dean stuttered, losing his words when Cas rolled his hips, their sprouting erections rubbing together with rough friction.
Castiel's hands moved over his stomach and to the button of his jeans, popping it and pulling down the zipper while his tongue laved at a fresh bite on Dean's throat. Below him, Dean moaned throatily in his ear and Cas couldn't help the chuckle that left his mouth, kissing his way back to the hunter's lips. He tugged at Dean's pants, making him lift his hips just enough to slide the fabric down so that Cas could free his cock and give it a couple of gentle strokes, smiling when Dean groaned.
Dean licked his way into Cas' mouth, distracting him enough that he found it a little surprising when Dean had gotten his pants down enough to pull his own erection out. Dean wrapped a hand around them both, making a deep shudder pass through Cas' spine. "Cas..." he whispered. "I'm gonna fix this. I promise."
"Dean," the former angel huffed, trying to stop him talking with a deep, long kiss.
Pulling just a little away, Dean kissed the corner of Castiel's mouth. "I mean it Cas." His hand was moving faster, using the precome of them both to help the process. Twisting his wrist just a little, he wrung a long moan out of Cas. "This won't happen. I won't let it. I don't want you to... Cas..."
Cas swallowed the lump forming in his throat, one hand holding himself up and the other gripping tight to Dean's shoulder, where he knew the handprint of his feat still would be if he dared remove the man's shirt. His lips rested against Dean's pulse point, tiredly giving sloppy kisses and half-hearted bites. He felt his orgasm building low inside of him, his muscles tightening and his legs shaking. "Dean, I'm close," he breathed.
"I've got you, Cas. Just let it... I've got you, angel," Dean replied almost incoherently.
Cas was so surprised that he froze, locking up just as the man below him gave one long, tight pull and suddenly Cas was coming, silent save for the sharp intake of breath that he held as Dean found his own end, carrying them both through with strokes that slowed and finally stopped. Still tense, Cas raised himself enough to look Dean in the eyes.
"Cas?" The name was timid as it fell between them, green eyes shadowed but worried.
Instead of an answer, Castiel just kissed him again, savoring the very taste of him and finally letting himself relax, draped across Dean's chest. Arms wrapped around him and Cas found it hard to care that his pants were down and there was sticky come still between them. He buried his face in Dean's neck and closed his eyes as a few tears slipped from his lashes. "Thank you," he murmured. Dean just squeezed him a little tighter.
A/N This was really spur of the moment, so forgive any issues with episode or characters, it's been a while since I've watched The End...