"SAMMY!" Dean roared, his voice echoing throughout the concrete walls of the panic room. He looked like a child on Christmas day after spotting all the presents under the Christmas tree. A grin stretched for miles was plastered across his face as he embraced Sam, tightening his grip on his little brother.

"You had me so worried there, little bro," he exhaled with relief. His eyes were watering. All the time, however, Sam remained unresponsive, simply enjoying the rush of oxygen. At last he finally acknowledged his brother and smiled, "Dean!" "Dean…Dean…Dean…" he continued to mutter like a broken record stuck on repeat. Each time he repeated the name, his voice grew smaller and smaller, sadder and sadder…until by the final time he uttered the word his voice was barely audible.

"What's wrong? Hey, come on! Talk to me, Sammy!" Dean desperately shook his brother, hoping to shake back the life and energy into him. Sam remained calm, his face absent-minded and emotionless. He just sat there, staring into space. It didn't make sense. Then, a tear trickled down his face, collecting at the tip of his nose before cascading down to the floor.

"It hurts…" Sam whispered. Then he closed his eyes and lay back on the table.

"He's not...is he, Cas?" Dean couldn't even say the word.

"He's still alive, don't worry." Castiel reassured him. "His chest is still heaving. Look," he explained as he pointed at the slow movement of Sam's torso. Dean stared at this, appreciating each lift and fall that showed his brother was still alive.

"What's wrong with him?" he finally questioned.

"His body needs time to adjust. Let him rest."

"But…he said that…it hurts…"

"Perhaps it is the itch of the wall. However, there's nothing we can do about it now. We have to wait until he wakes up and then see what happens."

Dean nodded in agreement, then exited the room to enter the spare bedroom in Bobby's house. Castiel was quick to follow, unwilling to be separated from Dean, especially in times of such hardship.

Dean slumped down, resting his head on his arms. Guilt was like a monster living within him, ready to consume him from inside-out. Whatever Sam was going through – it was all his own, selfish fault.

"Don't think like that, Dean," Castiel spoke softly.

"Wha- How did you know what I was thinking?" Dean didn't know that angels could also read minds.

"We can't read minds, Dean. I can just guess – quite accurately – what you're thinking because of our prolonged acquaintance." Actually, Dean's mind was the only one which Castiel had ever understood. He adored and worshipped the way in which his mind worked, the kindness of his heart reflected in each selfless thought. Castiel sat down on the bed beside Dean. He hesitated for a second, but sensing Dean's weakness, he put his arm around his broad shoulders. A jolt of electricity struck through him as he once again came into contact with Dean's godlike figure. If only he could get more…

This time, Dean was too overwhelmed by the situation with Sam to think about his feelings, instead allowing his body to give into Castiel's touch. He enjoyed the angelic warmth that surrounded them. Dean was so defenseless and Castiel felt a pang of guilt for abusing this. Tears rolled down Dean's cheeks but Castiel was quick to wipe them away, his rough hands stroking Dean's warm-out face. Dean looked much older than his years from all the pressure he had been given from birth. It was like he always carried the weight of the world of his shoulders and it certainly took its toll. Castiel understood how hard it was to be a hunter, especially when there were some people like Lisa and Ben awaiting Dean's return to continue their normal, apple-pie life. This thought only made him hold Dean harder.

"Thanks, Cas…" Dean murmured, grateful for having a friend to comfort him. But was he really just a friend…? Dean lifted his head so that it was only inches away from Castiel's. Castiel looked down and their eyes locked. The room around them had frozen. So had time. It was now just the two of them in the entire universe. Castiel saw all the pain and hurt in Dean's eyes and wanted to wash them away, replace them with love and passion. His own heart seemed to overflow with love and he felt only too happy to share it with Dean. Theirs heads moved closer together and soon, they felt the ecstatic sensation of their lips joining. Their first kiss. It started off as a light one – just a simple brush of their lips. But Dean craved for more. His kiss became more forceful, more desperate as he wrapped his arms around Castiel and pulled him in closer. Castiel was only too willing.

Was it really happening? What Castiel had spent endless nights dreaming about it. Yes, it was…It really was Dean and Castiel. Together.

Dean took off his shirt and Castiel admired his muscular torso, stroking his hand across each plane. Dean's body was so perfect, carved by God himself, that Castiel could barely breathe. Dean smiled before teasing him, "You wish this was yours, don't you?" Castiel chuckled and responded, "Actually, I do."

"It is now," Dean whispered into Castiel's ear before planting a trail of kisses down his neck.

Sam stood in the doorway, his head bleeding, sickened by what he saw. They didn't care about him at all. He turned his back and left.