A breaking man. A falling angel. The two were sitting face to face with one another, unsure of what to say. Perhaps, Dean thought, there was a simple beauty in the fact that nothing needed to be said. Cas may not have understood much about the world of humans, but he sure as hell understood Dean. Reading his every movement. Knowing when he was needed most. Dean had noticed it more and more lately. And some small part of him wanted to give into that tempting glow of safety that he had felt in Cas' arms. To let the macho bravado slip away. Just one more time...

Cas finally broke the silence. Seemingly nervous that by speaking he might upset the hunter further.

"Dean...I..I am not sorry for what I said. I am only sorry that it caused you pain."

Dean shook his head, wiping away the last of his tears.

"You stupid son of a bitch, Cas," he said, words marked by bitter laughter. "Don't apologize. I'm the one who's sorry. It's nice to know someone feels that way about me."

"I am sure I am not the only one, Dean. You have helped many."

"I haven't helped you at all, Cas. You did it all yourself."

"No," Cas said, "You were right about me. I am used to blindly following orders. I do not like being without a direction. A purpose. You are my purpose now, Dean."

"Dude," Dean replied, chuckling. "You have absolutely no idea how gay that sounds do you?"

He laughed again at the angel's confused expression. It was crazy, he knew it, but hearing Cas say those words sent a twinge of longing through him. Absently his hand wandered to the red welt on his shoulder that was Cas' own hand-print. He had spent nights staring at the raw, puckered scar in utter contempt. Marked by Heaven. A cold reminder of the servitude he had promised to them. No. Not to Heaven. He had made that promise to Cas. Only Cas. The thought of belonging to him was slightly more bearable. And now the angel was confessing that he too belonged to Dean. What a glorious mess they had gotten themselves into.

"Is that really how you feel?" Dean asked. "You're one sad bastard if you think that I'm all there is down here."

"I am not sad at all, Dean," the angel replied. "I am at peace when I am by your side."

"Even when you're being tossed around six ways from Sunday getting involved in our little skirmishes?"

The hunter was smiling now. Teasing. It was far easier to make Cas angry and cause him to flee than to deal with those deep eyes forever reaching into his very soul. But the angel wasn't angry. He was chuckling softly.

"Even then," was the reply.

"Why, Cas? Why me? Is it because you think I'm special? The supposed vessel of Michael? The son of the cursed Winchester line? My life has become some kind of entertaining peep show for angels and demons?"

Dean nearly cried out as the angel repeated the motions he himself had made earlier. Drawing him into the welcoming circle of his arms. The rough scratch of stubble against his cheek. The hot wetness of his breath against his ear.

"No. Because every emotion I have ever felt. Every single one of them...were caused by you, Dean."

"Is this the part where you kick my ass?" the hunter asked, hoping to God that it was something that simple.

Oh he knew he had been the first to make Cas feel guilt. Irritation. Frustration... But sympathy, joy, camaraderie had been shown along the way too. Every one as intense as the last. Emotions that came so swiftly and naturally to Dean himself. But to Cas it must have been overwhelmingly powerful.

"I have no desire to harm you," Cas replied, his grip tightening ever so slightly. "I desire to..."

"Don't finish that sentence," Dean interrupted. "You don't want to go there, Cas."

"Yes, Dean. I do."

There was no will left in Dean to fight it anymore. No denying Cas. No denying himself. If the angel was craving this, then Dean was going to make damn sure that he would teach him what satisfaction was as well. Desperately, he wanted to shove the bastard down on the hood of the car. Pin the captive angel beneath him and make him beg for this. Make him pay for sparking this lust in him. Instead, he found himself kissing softly into Cas' mouth, relishing in the low moan it elicited. It would be far more gratifying to take his time.

Dean watched the other's reactions with a growing interest. With the tables turned, Cas seemed at a loss, not knowing what to do. What was expected of him. Compliance replacing the forcefulness he had shown before. Dean's tongue darted in and out playfully across the angel's remarkably full and soft lips, savoring the taste. Then he pulled back, slowly, a grin creeping across his face at what he saw.

"Did you like that, Cas?" he asked.

His hand moved down to massage the angel's inner thigh, squeezing and kneading the muscles there through the black fabric. Snaking upwards until he firmly cupped the prominent bulge straining against the crotch of his pants.

"Hmmm. I think you did."

"It feels..." Cas began but was cut short.

"Like Heaven?" Dean teased, fingers working swiftly to free Cas from the confines of his clothing.

"No," Cas replied with a whimper. "It feels so much more...real."

I'm glad for you, Dean thought, nipping against the soft skin of the angel's neck. It feels like a dream to me. He wrapped his hand around Cas's length, stroking him in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Causing him to cry out so sharply and suddenly he feared it would call out attention. But there was no conscious ears to hear them. No one except for the angels above with their cool indifference. He clamped his mouth down over Cas' in an effort to silence him and discovered he enjoyed the muffled cries of surprise and pleasure more than anything else. Enjoyed the way the other's warm and naked body felt under his touch. How easily he made him shake and tremble with barely any effort. More soft and submissive than any woman he had ever been with.

He can't control it, the thought suddenly hit Dean. He's going to finish before I even start.

"Dean," the words came out in a small whine. "Please...s-stop."

"What's the matter, bright eyes," the hunter answered, hand still remaining in place but movement ceased. "I warned you that you didn't want to go here."

"No," Cas replied, barely audible. "Not like this...I want you to...to teach me how to make you feel the same way."

"Oh believe me, Cas, I'm feeling it," Dean replied, easing him backwards. "I just have better control."

But I'm going to lose it if he keeps this up...I expected a quick passionate screw...to get it over and done with before I had the time to comprehend what was even happening. But now...he is trusting me to...to do what? To feel what? More than simple lust and the thrill of control over him...I can't stand the way he is looking up at me. You selfish dick...why now? Because I was vulnerable? Because we both were? Both are....

He snapped out of his reverie, realizing that Cas was tugging at his clothing in a futile attempt to remove it from his body. He obliged him in his wish, hastily undressing. Shivering at the feel of the angel's flawless skin against his own. Body arching upwards, hips rocking against his own, hardness brushing against his leg. Dean was only dimly aware of his own mounting need. Wanting more to again hear the sweet moans of new found ecstasy from the angel. His angel.

"Relax, Cas," he said. "Just close your eyes and relax."

Obediently the other did so. Still taut against him but muscles easing. Lips parted with breathy gasps for air. Thick eyelashes fluttering as he tried to focus his vision.

"That's better," Dean whispered, stroking his cheek.

He could feel the tremble it sent through Cas' body and the frantic urge within him rose again. Jolts of pleasure coursing through him as the angel's hands wandered across his back, exploring, discovering him. Feather-light touches giving rise to goose-bumps. Suddenly aware that Cas was studying him with a silent amazement. Steadily gaining more confidence as his lips brushed against the scarred skin of Dean's shoulder. Finally taking them both into his shaking hand, working them over together. Watching in a rapt wonder.

Ideals that had meant little to Dean before came flashing across his mind. Adoration. Worship. A single line from a book that had been nothing but mere words on paper to him before...Love is patient....Love is kind....

His hand rested over Cas', guiding him. Moving in time with him. Kissing slick, sweat-drenched skin. Breathing words of encouragement and appreciation. Trying to make it last as long as possible until one or both of them could take the delirious pleasure no longer. Each little twitch, every gasp, every gentle brush of fingers threatening to send him over the edge far sooner than he wanted to. Half praying that Cas would find his release first so he could witness the result it would bring to his beautiful flushed face. The thought of it sent him spiraling out of control and he let out a ragged gasp. Warmth and white light washing over him. Cas' voice rang out like a sweet song as he followed. Always following...always being led...

One had been raised back to earth. The other had fallen down to it. In the midst of salvation and damnation they clung to one another not daring to let go.