Important: This chapter starts with the end of the last chapter from Cas's point of view, just to avoid any confusion on what's happening! Thanks for reading, I really appreciate you guys sticking with me. Every time I get a comment I do a happy dance :)

Warning: sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll. Well, one of those anyway. More seriously, talk of suicide.

Cas closed the bathroom door with shaking hands and leaned his head against the cool wood, trying to bring his racing heart and ragged breathing under control. The image of Dean oh so gently tending to his wounds was burned in his mind, the caress of the towel saying as much, if not more, than words ever could. The hunter had refused to meet his eyes, and Cas was grateful, it was as intimate a moment as he'd ever experienced and he wasn't sure his self-control was up to seeing what was going on behind Dean Winchester's unflappable façade. He clenched his fists, fixing the memory in his mind, using the image of Dean's face to comfort him during what he intended to make his final moments.

Cas pushed off the door and opened his medicine cabinet, to find that, of course, Dean had cleaned out anything the now-human angel could potentially use to end his life. Cas smiled ruefully when he saw that the hunter had even taken his store of toothpicks. He sighed and bowed to the inevitable, Dean wasn't going to let him die alone. A deeply hidden part of Cas was selfishly relieved that Dean would be with him until the end. The greater part of him was horrified. His friend had been through enough.

Cas looked in the mirror and quickly looked away again. He didn't recognize the shell-shocked face staring back at him, his eyes were too wild, his face too pale and drawn. He turned on the water, then turned slowly back to the mirror, realization striking. The angel looked thoughtfully at the door, calculating, then shrugged and turned away again. Breaking the mirror would be too noisy, there was no lock on the door and Dean would be there too quickly; not quickly enough to stop Cas, but quickly enough that the spray of blood might hit his friend. It wasn't worth the risk. He sighed and got in the shower, automatically checking that the waterproof dressing was in place, then realizing it didn't matter if it wasn't. He couldn't get more infected than he already was.

Cas responded to Dean's admonishments and banter on autopilot, both amused and annoyed that the hunter was clearly standing just the other side of the door, making sure he was actually having a shower and not planning some kind of escape. He carefully cleaned off the blood and grime that seemed to coat every inch of his body, savoring the feel of the water, the feeling of the steam in the air, the heat on his skin. He held up a hand and marveled at the beauty of each water droplet as it caught the dim bathroom light. In these, the last minutes of his life, the world seemed to take on a startling clarity, every small sensation feeling more real than it ever had before.

Cas could no longer see the colors and feel the vibrations that were beyond human perception, or hear the music of the cosmos. Those days were long gone. But now he realized that the urgency of a mortal life, the explosion of flavor in the simplest food, the warmth and emotion in a simple human touch, was so much more. And now he was about to lose it all.

Cas turned off the water and stood in the steam, just breathing. Just feeling his lungs fill with each inhale, and compress with each exhale. Feeling his heart thud comfortingly in his chest, at a higher speed than normal, his body still reacting to Dean's presence. He ran his hands through his hair, and stretched out his arms, feeling his muscles tense and relax, remembering the first day he had inhabited Jimmy Novak's form, how strange it had felt, how clumsy and limited compared to his angel form with its magnificent wings and thrumming power. He closed his eyes and ran his fingers across his face, tracing the path Dean's hands had taken, feeling his lips turn up in an unwilling smile as the memories flooded in.

In the beginning Cas hadn't understood why every time he looked at his friend his heart had raced and his ability to think was overtaken by an intense need to be near the hunter, to see his smile, to hear his laugh, to feel the accidental brush of a hand. He hadn't understood why he needed Dean like his newly human body had needed to breathe. When he had, the realization that Dean would never feel the same way had been crushing, and instead of having faith that his friend might one day feel something for him, he'd rushed into the arms of someone else, anyone else, who might fill the void within him. But no one ever had.

His reverie was broken when his hearing, which had always remained better than a normal human's, picked up the sound of Dean's panicked breathing in the other room, and he knew that to put off the inevitable any longer would be too cruel, for both of them.

With one last look around the bathroom, taking in every detail, from the cracked mirror to the slightly wonky seashell tile above the sink, Cas pulled on some clean clothes and headed out to meet his fate.

Cas opened the door, prepared for anything other than what actually happened. He heard Dean call his name, and before he even had time to open his mouth Dean was there, kissing him, biting him, being infected! The surge of adrenaline that shot through Cas was so strong that he nearly blacked out, and the next thing he knew Dean was on the bed, cradling an arm, blood, his blood, on the hunter's lips and teeth.

"Cas…" Dean whispered, "I'm so sorry, I had to!"

Castiel came back to himself with a start, and stared at his friend, the love of his very, very long life, and felt something inside him break. After a few seconds of fraught silence he opened his mouth and said the first thing that came to his mind.


"You taught me to drive."

"What?" Dean asked, confused. He'd expected anger, possibly even tears, but this… this he hadn't expected. This was far scarier.

"When I lost my 'mojo'," Cas clarified. The angel sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the ceiling. His voice was calm, his face devoid of all expression. Dean swallowed hard, his stomach churning. This was bad. After years of leading his small group of survivors through hell and back, he knew the signs of someone reaching their breaking point.

"I had no way to get around," Cas smiled, still staring at the ceiling. "I sat in the car, and put my hands on the steering wheel, like I'd seen you do a thousand times. I couldn't understand why it didn't just move. It always moved when you sat in that seat."

Dean shifted around, trying to get a better look at Cas's face. He remembered that day vividly. Cas had sat in the driver's side of the Impala and commanded it to go. When it didn't, his look of confusion, annoyance, and hurt had nearly caused Dean to have an aneurysm trying to hold the laughter in. When he'd finally been able to trust himself to speak, without hurting the angel's feelings by rolling on the floor in hysterics, he'd patiently taught Cas how to change gears and use the pedals. It was the first time he and the angel had really connected on a human level. When Cas had first successfully driven a short way down the highway, his face locked in a mask of determined concentration, Dean had felt something unfamiliar stir inside, something he now realized had been the beginnings of the feelings that had gotten them into this mess.

"You loved it," Dean whispered, after a long moment of tense silence. "You loved driving. I can still see your face that day we drove out to the middle of nowhere and I let you go as fast as you wanted. I think it was the first time I ever saw you really smile after… after everything."

Cas looked sharply at Dean, a strange look in his eyes.

"I remember. I'm surprised you do though. You never talk about those days. I just assumed…"

"What?" Dean asked, hearing the snap in his voice, but unable to prevent it. "You thought because I don't talk about it that I don't remember? That I don't remember your face the first time you tried pizza? Or that it took over an hour for you to learn to tie your shoelaces, because you wouldn't let me show you how? Or that the first time you got drunk you found a feather and just sat there, cradling it for hours? Or that for months I'd see you tense up, then look shocked because you'd forgotten you couldn't just fly off whenever you wanted?" Dean took a deep breath, seeing his friend bow under the weight of his words, but unable to stop the flow. "It broke my heart to see you like that, Cas. So of course I never talk about it. It was the most painful time of your life, only a total dick would bring it up!"

Cas was shaking his head even before Dean had finished. "Painful?" he laughed bitterly. "Maybe. But it was also the best time of my life! You've always been a human, you have no idea what it's like to suddenly become one. It was like a veil had been lifted, the world was so vivid, so exciting. Everything was new. Tasting food for the first time. Feeling the sun on my face and the wind in my hair, feeling feelings I'd never felt before. Being touched. That's something you understand only subconsciously, because you've had it all your life, but Dean, the touch of another human being… it's a feeling I can't even describe. It's addictive. This whole damn world is addictive! Food, sex, love, hate, pain… it's sensory overload and I can't get enough of it."

Cas clenched his hands in his lap, and looked down, as though mustering courage. "But the best part was spending time with you. You taught me how to look after myself, how to be human. What fun, and friendship, and laugher were all about. What love…" Cas broke off, staring determinedly at the floor, twisting his fingers savagely in his lap. Dean's heart leapt into his throat and he tensed up, whether from fear or anticipation he wasn't sure, but Cas didn't finish the sentence, just continued to stare at the floor like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. Dean wanted to reach out to his friend, but some instinct kept him in place, watching the angel breathe through some internal struggle.

"Why?" Cas asked finally, plaintively. "Why did you do it, Dean? You told Mike not to diminish Sarah's sacrifice, then you turned around and did exactly the opposite. And the camp… they won't easily recover from losing you, if they ever do."

Dean drew in a deep breath, and blew it out again. It was a question he couldn't readily answer. He could hardly say 'hey Cas, I think you've got some angel mojo buried in there, which only comes out when you're at the height of extreme emotion,' because for one, he didn't know for sure, and for another, it was a feeble answer. The real reason had been much simpler, and far more selfish. He'd given so much, sacrificed so much. He'd lost everything he'd ever cared about… except for Cas. Dean knew he was anything but a coward, but everyone had their breaking point, and this was his. He wouldn't, couldn't continue the struggle without his friend.

Instead of voicing those thoughts Dean just shrugged, knowing there was nothing he could say that would placate the angel. At that gesture the sadness in Cas's face was replaced with a look Dean had only seen a handful of times since the angel had raised him from Perdition. That look made Dean's stomach drop and his bowels turn to water because, fallen or not, a seriously pissed-off angel was nothing to take lightly.

Cas opened his mouth, and Dean was sure he was not going to like what happened next, but before Cas could say what was on his mind there was a knock at the door, and Dean felt his shoulders slump in guilty relief.

"Come in," Cas called out, still staring at Dean. The hunter hurriedly wiped his face, hoping he looked more like the fearless leader everyone believed him to be, and less like a scared, love-sick teenager. Vampire teenager he amended, noticing the blood on the tissue he'd used to wipe his face.

"Dean, we need you to oversee the funeral," Chuck said, not looking up from his list as hurried in the door. "Cas, we need you to lead the blessing…" Chuck trailed off as he took in the tableau before him, Cas, clearly fresh from the shower, and Dean, sitting on the bed dressed in Cas's clothes.

"Umm… or… I could come back later?" Chuck asked, blushing.

"It's not like that," Dean hurriedly assured him, feeling Cas stiffen beside him and mentally cursing himself for always managing to say exactly the wrong thing.

"Right…" Chuck said skeptically, "well… we need the fearless leader and his angel, the camp is…"

"His angel?" Cas broke in with a short laugh, "Chuck… I'm no one's angel these days. Or hadn't you heard?" There was amusement in Cas's voice, but Dean noticed the tell-tale tightening around Cas's eyes and mouth, and his heart, already in pieces after the events of the day, broke just a little bit more.

Chuck held up his hands in surrender. "Look, I don't know what's going on with you two, but the camp needs you both clear-headed right now. So it's probably a good idea to put whatever it is aside for now."

"It's always about the greater fucking good, isn't it?" Dean sniped, standing up.

Cas sighed. "Chuck… look…"

"We'll be out in just a sec," Dean interrupted hurriedly, glaring at the angel.

"Alrighty…" Chuck agreed, looking back and forth between them, and then backing out of the room with more haste than strictly necessary, "I'll… I'll just tell everyone you'll be there soon, ok?"

"Ok," Dean agreed, "We're just going to finish cleaning up and we'll be right…" he trailed off as Chuck melted into the chaos outside the door. He raked his hands through his hair. Chuck would have to be told, but not yet. Dean wasn't ready to give up just yet.

"We have to tell him," Cas sighed, standing. "We only have a few hours left."

"Soon," Dean said, evasively. "Let's just get through the funeral first, ok?"

Dean counted the crowd of people around the pyre of bodies, and felt his heart cramp. Too many bodies, too few survivors. They couldn't continue to take losses at this rate. He had to review their defenses, see what he had missed. He had to… he had to do nothing. In a few hours this would no longer be his problem.

Dean couldn't even begin to sort out the emotions that rushed through him as he finally realized exactly what he'd done, and what the consequences would be, so instead he did what he did best, and locked the emotions away, focusing on the people around him.

He watched the procession of family and friends, careful to keep his thoughts from his face as they pinned their loved one's photos to the memorial wall, a tradition that had started the day he had pinned Sammy's picture to the wall of his office, and Cas had suggested everyone should have somewhere to put their pictures of the missing and the dead.

There were no dry eyes in the camp, the survivors were a close-knit group and everyone had lost family that day. Dean kept a watchful eye on the crowd, listening with only half an ear to Cas as he spoke about each and every person who had died. Cas had always been better at this part than Dean; if Dean was the head of the camp, Cas was its beating heart. The angel was deeply interested in, and attached to, every person that lived inside the walls. He knew everyone's birthdays, what they had done 'before', and probably the name of their first pet for all Dean knew. It didn't mean the hunter cared any less, just that Cas had no problems sharing his affection and genuine interest freely and without guile. It was one of the things the hunter loved most about him.

Dean closed his eyes briefly at that thought. There could be no doubt now that he loved the angel, and now he, like so many others gathered here, was never going to have a chance to be with the one he loved again. For what seemed like the hundredth time that night he determinedly pushed those thoughts away and opened his eyes again, making sure his face was calm and composed, knowing many of his people were watching, taking strength from his strength.

Cas finished with a prayer, something Dean knew made the angel deeply uncomfortable, but like Dean, he did it for the people they watched over. And then it was the hunter's turn. He never spoke at the funerals, but there was one job he always took upon himself.

He held out his hand, and Chuck lit the torch and placed it carefully in his grip. Steeling himself he stepped forward and thrust the burning torch into the pyre, each of the countless times he'd performed this action flashing through his mind's eye. Cas walked over and stood beside him, and together they silently watched the sparks rise into the night sky, taking with them their friends. Their family.


Everywhere Dean looked the grief for the fallen was being swept aside by the guilty relief of survival, lubricated by the store of alcohol the hunter had ordered opened. Dean could see the signs, and knew that many of the camp would be taking comfort in one another's arms tonight. Usually Cas played a big part in that.

With that in mind he looked around for his friend, and sure enough two women already had their arms around him, pressing up against the angel in a way that made Dean grind his teeth. His stomach churned as Cas grinned down at them, leaning in to whisper in their ears. The women turned to go, and Cas patted them each lightly on the butt, causing them to giggle and squeal, and Dean to growl low in his throat. The angel watched them leave with an expression of resigned amusement, which faded when he looked over and saw Dean watching. Dean quickly schooled his expression into one of complete indifference, and turned away, not wanting Cas to see how hurt he was. The angel didn't owe him anything, in fact, Dean owed Cas, first for saving his life, and then for the terrible burden he'd placed on him, allowing him to be the instrument of his infection.

He felt Cas come up behind him, and flinched involuntarily when his friend dropped a casual hand on his shoulder. Cas removed the hand instantly, and Dean didn't need to see his face to imagine his expression.

Ignoring the angel he kept walking until he was close enough to the crowd to be heard.

"Ok, that's it!" he called out. "It's been a hell of a day, now you all need to try and get some sleep, except patrol groups three through six. You have the watch tonight, two hour shifts only."

Everyone continued milling around and he clapped his hands sharply. "Go!" he roared. "Get moving or the Croats will be the least of your worries!" He watched with satisfaction as the crowd immediately leaped into action, and turned to find Cas holding out a hand to stop him.

"Dean… we have to tell Chuck. We're running out of time!"

"Not. Yet!" Dean ground out. Cas started to protest, real anger in his eyes, but Dean reached out and grabbed him by the shirt, bodily dragging him back to the cabin. Cas put up token resistance, Dean knew if he really wanted to protest there was no way he could have moved the angel; Cas had more experience in his little finger than the whole camp put together, which meant he could snap the hunter in half without a second thought, angelic powers or not.

"Dean…" Cas tried again, his tone softening to one of compassion, causing the hunter's steps to falter. Was he doing the right thing? He shook his head. Now was not the time for doubts.

"We have something to settle first," Dean finally said, resuming his stride towards the cabin. "Something that has nothing to do with anyone else." Cas fell silent, but Dean could still feel the pressure of his gaze. Eventually he reached the cabin door, and none-to-gently pushed Cas inside. The angel stood in the middle of the floor, his shirt crumpled where Dean had grabbed it, his hair still sticking out in all directions because Dean had confiscated his comb.

The hunter caught his breath, just gazing at Cas, taking in his lean form, the hollow of a hip-bone where his shirt had been pulled askew, the elegant long-fingered hands that had held him so gently, and had dealt out such destruction. And most of all the piercing, expressive, ancient blue eyes that held a universe of secrets.

Dean felt his heart stutter, and wondered how he'd never before noticed the almost magnetic attraction of his friend. Then he shook his head ruefully. Of course he'd noticed, he'd just hidden that noticing so deeply inside that he'd successfully lied to himself for years, until it was almost too late.

He took a step towards Cas, who automatically took a step back, his eyes widening. Dean took another deliberate step, and Cas stepped back again, his breathing speeding up. Something inside Dean stirred fiercely at the reaction he was having on the angel. Cas was always so in control, so calm. During their earlier lovemaking Cas had been the one in control, Dean the one who was a hopeless mess of emotion. Now it was time to turn the tables.

One more step and Cas was backed up against a wall, visibly shaken. Dean took a smaller step until his face was only inches away from the angel's, until he was breathing the same air, until all his eyes could see was blue eyes that were almost black with desire.

Dean reached out a hand, and laid it on Cas's hip, his fingers just brushing the exposed flesh. Cas's reaction was instantaneous, the angel shuddered visibly, biting his lip, his pupils now completely blown. Part of Dean marveled at the effect he had on his friend, and if he'd had any lingering doubts about how the angel felt, Cas's reaction dispelled them.

Slowly he moved the hand, brushing it along the waistline of Cas's pants. Cas finally seemed to come back to himself, and he caught Dean's hand, stilling it.

"Dean…" the angel whispered, his expression equal parts desire and uncertainty. "You don't have to do this. You don't owe me anything."

Dean smiled, a predator's grin. "Wrong. Wrong on every count. I do have to. I do owe you. And that's not why I'm doing this. Unless you don't want me to?" he asked teasingly, withdrawing his hand. Cas grabbed it, and brought it back to his hip forcefully.

"That's what I thought," Dean grinned smugly, and finally, ever so slowly, leaned forward to kiss his angel.


Cas wasn't sure what was happening, but he was sure he never wanted it to stop. Any thoughts of dying, of the battle, of telling Chuck, or of the strange stirrings of Grace he'd felt inside him, melted away until he was focused solely on one thing, Dean's mouth, leaning in to capture his own.

At the first touch of the hunter's lips Cas closed his eyes, certain his heart was going to jump out of his chest and kill him well before the virus had a chance to take his soul. Dean's soft, slightly chapped lips sealed over Cas's own in a gentle, delicate kiss with barely any pressure behind it. When Cas didn't move away, couldn't have moved away, not even if the cabin had fallen on their heads, Dean deepened the kiss, running his tongue gently over Cas's bottom lip, pausing over the swelling that marked Dean's earlier 'kiss', apology and love in that simple gesture. Cas sighed and opened his mouth, and at the touch of Dean's tongue to his own he shuddered again. The kiss was slow and tender, asking instead of demanding. Cas tentatively put his hands on Dean's waist, and Dean reacted by putting his arms around Cas's back, pulling him hard against his body, sliding a hand up to cradle his neck.

"C'mon Cas… it's ok, baby," Dean whispered, pulling back from the kiss. Cas realized that his body was still frozen in shock, unable to process what was happening. He reached a hand up and cupped Dean's cheek, gazing searchingly into the hunter's eyes, seeing only desire, and something deeper, in his gaze. Dean reached up, covering Cas's hand with his own, and turned his head to kiss the angel's palm. At that simple gesture a longing and desire as strong as anything Cas had ever felt shot through him, and his frozen body suddenly came to life.

This time Cas initiated the kiss, and where the other kiss had been slow and tender, this kiss was passionate and demanding. Cas pushed Dean back towards the bed and the hunter went willingly, pulling at his clothes. Cas paused for just a second to rip his shirt over his head, and they came together again, the feeling of skin on skin causing both of them to groan aloud. Cas's mouth remained fixed firmly to Dean's as he ran his hands over the hunter's shoulder blades and down his back, marveling at the feeling of hard muscle bunching under smooth skin. He felt Dean's hands hard on his hips, holding him steady as they fell backwards onto the bed. Cas's hands went immediately to Dean's belt, and when he couldn't get it undone fast enough he tore the leather, breaking it in half, too lost to desire to notice the calculating look that briefly crossed Dean's face at that show of more-than-human strength.

"Slow down, Angel," Dean laughed, capturing Cas's hands. "We still have a little time. Let's not rush it, like we did before."

Cas snarled and spat a curse in Latin and Dean grinned, clearly pleased to have riled the angel past his usual calm.

"Besides, I'm not really…umm…" Dean coughed, and Cas was amused to see a slight blush stain the normally unflappable hunter's cheeks. The angel leaned backwards, trying to steady his breathing. He'd forgotten that Dean, as experienced as he was in other conquests, had never been with a man before Cas, and that his father had instilled some pretty heavy prejudice against exactly the kind of activity they were now engaged in. Cas himself had never understood why humans cared about what meat suit their souls wore, he picked his partners by what he sensed about them as people… when he was sober enough to care.

Trying to get his lust-hazed brain back into gear he realized he'd have to tread carefully now, because not only was it Dean's first proper time with a man, it was also their first proper time together.

And their last.


Cas's breath was coming in hard gasps now, but at Dean's words he visibly calmed himself, a slow, lazy grin spreading across his face, a mischievous look in his eyes that was as familiar to Dean now as Castiel, the Angel of the Lord's small half-smiles and shy glances had been.

Cas sat back, his arousal clearly visible through the cotton pants he always wore. Dean was in no better shape, and the movement of Cas's hips where he was straddling the hunter caused him to bite his lip to stop the escape of another groan.

"So," Cas said, showing a disconcerting amount of teeth, "the student becomes the teacher. I think I'm going to enjoy this."

Dean stared up at Cas, struck by a sudden melancholy.

Who taught you how to love, Cas? Who was there when I couldn't be? When I should have been?

A strange expression crossed Cas's face, as though he was thinking along similar lines. Slowly the angel leaned down, kissing his way down Dean's neck, running his tongue down the hunter's chest until he reached a hard nipple and took it in his mouth, grazing it with his teeth in a way that sent a bolt of lightning straight to Dean's aching cock.

"Cas…" he hissed out, suddenly not sure he could take it slowly after all. He felt Cas reach down and finally free them both from their remaining clothes. Then the angel took them both in hand, and the intense feeling of Cas's hard length against his own caused Dean's hips to buck and his eyes to roll back in his head. The angel kept up his merciless assault with hands and mouth while Dean fisted his hands in the sheets, then in Cas's hair, trying to get him to stop.

"Cas… Castiel!" Dean moaned. "Angel, stop… baby, please! I can't hold on much longer."

Cas stilled his hands, and lifted his head, staring into Dean with eyes that were no longer human. Dean's breath caught as he was pinned to the bed by the intense stare of an Angel of the Lord. Slowly, slowly, Cas, his Cas, his friend, returned and Dean's breathing eased, leaving behind shaky hope. He knew now he only needed to hold on long enough to push Cas as far over the edge as he could, as far into angel territory as his mortal body was capable of withstanding. He didn't think Cas had made the connection between the flashes of Grace and the intensity of the connection between them, but Dean knew instinctively that if he told Cas it would break the spell, and all chance of his angel side coming back enough to heal himself would be lost.

Dean had no hope at all that Cas had enough mojo left inside to heal him, but to heal himself, yes. There was. There had to be.

Cas was the first to break eye contact, reaching over Dean to the bedside table, the sudden movement of their bodies causing both of them to groan again. After fumbling in the drawer for a moment he pulled out a bottle, and Dean raised an eyebrow.

"It's the middle of the damn apocalypse, and you use our supply runs to pick up lube?"

Cas smirked, the gleam in his eyes giving Dean a sudden shiver of nerves. The angel noticed and grinned wider, leaning down to kiss the hunter. Dean steeled himself for what he was sure was going to be a very strange experience, only to realize that Cas was preparing himself for Dean, not the other way around. Dean frowned, about to say something; he wanted this to be the best experience for Cas, and the hunter was sure his inexperience was going to show.

"Trust me," Cas whispered in his ear, a faint amusement threading his voice. Dean reached up a hand to cup the angel's cheek, running a thumb across a sharp cheekbone.

"Always," he whispered back. He felt Cas let out a shuddering breath, and his mouth found Dean's again in a slow, sensual kiss that made the hunter's bones practically melt with desire. In that instant Dean finally surrendered completely, letting go of all his worries, all his fears, all his doubts, and just let his body do the talking. Everywhere the angel touched him it was like being touched with a high-voltage electrical wire, and Dean suddenly couldn't get close enough, couldn't touch enough skin, couldn't kiss deeply enough.

Cas picked up on his urgency and the mood changed from gentle and loving to passionate and desperate. Dean felt his movements becoming less co-ordinated, more frantic as Cas reached between them, breaking off the kiss to slide himself slowly down on Dean's rock-hard erection. Dean watched with wide eyes, fighting not to come right then and there.

Cas… oh fuck! Fuck that's hot. Shit, I'm not going to make it. No, I've got to. Come on Winchester, you've got to hold on. Hold on for Cas.

Cas was too far gone to grin, but Dean felt his hips stutter, and he wondered for a brief second if the angel had heard him. But not for more than a second, because his brain was occupied with more pressing matters.

As Cas became fully seated Dean automatically placed his hands on the angel's waist, unable to think beyond the sheer, unbelievable pleasure that flooded his body, the tight heat that was almost more than he could bear. But it wasn't just the feeling of his beloved angel surrounding him that nearly had Dean coming undone yet again, it was the look on Cas's face. The angel looked completely sinful, wanton and debauched, his lips swollen from kissing, his hair disheveled, hectic color touching his cheeks, his piercing blue eyes black with desire.

"Dean…" Cas moaned, and Dean suddenly realized that the angel's husky, sandpaper voice really, really turned him on, especially when it was saying his name, rough with lust.

"Cas…" Dean gasped, as the angel began to move. While he was still coherent enough to think he quickly poured some lube and took Cas in hand, causing the angel to moan again, sending another spike of pleasure down Dean's spine.

"Fuck, Cas…" Dean hissed, the sight of the angel above him almost too much to bear. "You're so goddamn beautiful!"

Cas tilted his head to the side, slowing his movements, and Dean was struck by another shiver of recognition. It was the same look Cas had given him that first day, when he'd first told Dean the truth of his divinity. Like he wasn't really seeing Dean, but was looking deeper, right down into his soul.

"No, Dean," Cas whispered, his tone even huskier than before. "It is you who is beautiful. If only you could see it for yourself."

Dean huffed out a breathless laugh. "I have a mirror, Cas."

"Not… what I mean," Cas was breathing harder now, and Dean knew neither of them could hang on much longer. A fire burned behind the angel's eyes, and Dean gritted his teeth, hoping, praying for a miracle.

That's it Cas, he whispered in his mind. Let it go. Let it all go. I'm here.

"Mmm?" Cas murmured, too far gone to even realize Dean hadn't been speaking out loud, and the hunter knew then that it was now or never.

"Cas…" Dean gasped, "there's something I have to tell you."

Dean grabbed Cas's hands, twining their fingers together, waiting until he had the angel's full attention. "Cas, I love you. I love you so fucking much. I'm so in love with you I can hardly bear it. Castiel… Angel… I love you."

Dean didn't see Cas's reaction because he came so hard that the world went white, and then there was a hand over his eyes, a pressure on his chest, and Dean felt almost unbearable pleasure and heat, and something else, sear through him so intensely he thought he might die from it.

And then he didn't think anything at all.


Castiel looked deeply into Dean's eyes, and deeper, right down into the pure radiance of his soul. The angel's body was humming with so much pleasure that the significance of what he was seeing didn't really register. What did register was Dean's words.

Castiel, angel, I love you

Cas felt something inside him break at those words, and as he came all his immense love for the hunter rushed through him, all the rage, and all the pain that their time would be cut short, just when they'd finally discovered each other. Then the fear, not for himself, but for Dean, his friend, his lover, his soulmate crashed through him like an avalanche, along with something else, something he hadn't felt in years. Deep, deep inside him, in a place he hadn't known existed, the flood of emotion cracked a barrier, and white-hot power flooded through him.

Blinding white radiance flooded the room, as bright as if the sun itself was in the cabin with them. Acting purely on instinct he slapped his hand over Dean's eyes, and slammed his other hand down on the hunter's chest, channeling all the remnants of his Grace into a healing that poured into the man under him, briefly feeling a familiar weight settle on his spine, and the faintest brush of feathers against his skin.

And then it was over, and he felt hollowed out, empty, completely drained. He moved his hand from Dean's face to see green eyes staring at him with awe, love, and something else that Cas was too shaky to identify.

"Are you ok?" the hunter asked unsteadily. Cas nodded, unable to speak.

"You healed me," Dean whispered, his voice thready with emotion. Cas nodded again, exhaustion sweeping over him. He lay down beside the hunter, shaking with reaction, and Dean pulled him close.

"Did you heal yourself?" Dean whispered, and Cas identified the underlying emotion in Dean's voice. Fear. He thought about his body. All the aches and pains were gone and, apart from the exhaustion, he felt as if he'd had a hot bath and a massage instead of fighting a harrowing battle and contracting a devastating illness.

"I think so," he said, smiling as Dean's arms tightened around his shoulders in obvious relief. Then the significance of everything that had happened between them over the last few hours began to sink in, and a horrible suspicion reared its head. He got up on one elbow and looked down at Dean.

"You knew!" he accused. A guilty look flashed across Dean's face, and Cas felt his stomach drop through the floor.

"Then this was…" Cas felt his voice shake, and swallowed hard. "It wasn't real? You just did it to make me heal us?"

"Oh, Cas," Dean breathed, stricken. He reached up and held Cas's face in his hands, preventing him from pulling away. "No, Angel, no! Do you really think I could have faked all that?"

Cas shook his head, but looked away, unconvinced. Dean sighed and ran his hands tenderly down the angel's arms.

"Cas, I hoped you'd heal yourself, that's true. I saw the way your Grace flared up around me, ever since I walked in on you..." Dean coughed uncomfortably, "well, anyway, once I figured out how you felt I saw the connection. But this?" Dean gestured vaguely. "This is about us. I love you, Cas. I think I have for a long time, but I'm such a goddamn idiot I didn't dare admit it to myself."

Cas's heart swelled again at those words, and he felt tears sting his eyes. He blinked them away, looking down into Dean's suddenly vulnerable face.

"I love you, Dean Winchester," Cas whispered, and he saw something in Dean relax as he said those words, the words that had burned in the back of his throat from the very first day he'd seen the hunter, deep in Hell. The words that had hung between them, unspoken, through every mission, every adventure, every moment of friendship and laughter, of joy and pain.

Then the angel leaned down to kiss the hunter, to prove his love again. This time without words.


Dean and Cas had decided to tell Chuck, in case the healing wasn't strong enough to stop the virus. Thinking about the power he'd felt flowing through his body Dean was convinced that nothing could have survived the intensity of the angel's healing. But Cas had insisted, and Dean had given in. Now he wished he hadn't.

Chuck was sitting on the floor, his knees pulled up to his chest, looking like he either wanted to throw up or kill them both.

"That was a hell of a risk you took," Chuck said, eventually. You moron, Dean internally finished the sentence Chuck was too polite to finish out loud.

"I know, I'm sorry," Dean said, one part defiance, two parts guilt. Chuck eyed him, as if about to question the sincerity of the apology.

"How much longer until we know for sure?" he asked instead.

"Another hour should do it," Cas said, and Dean could hear the exhaustion in his voice. He put a comforting hand on the angel's knee, deciding to make sure Cas got a good night's sleep after this. The last few hours had been such a rollercoaster of emotion Dean was surprised either of them was still upright. The angel smiled the small half-smile that Dean loved so much, and put his hand reassuringly over the hunter's. Dean turned back to Chuck, who looked between them, his eyebrows raised, a small smile on his face. Dean coughed hurriedly, trying to withdraw his hand, but Cas gripped it tightly, grinning mischievously. With his other hand Cas reached under the bed and withdrew his angel blade, handing it over to their friend, who held it awkwardly, like it was a venomous snake.

"Let me get this straight," the smaller man said sarcastically, "if it turns out you're wrong and you do turn, you want me to kill you both. You want me, the person who takes inventory, to take out a demon hunter and an angel. Great plan. Nothing could possibly go wrong with that."

Dean snorted a laugh, which only seemed to make Chuck madder. "No, I want you to run like hell, screaming at the top of your lungs, so that the fighters I have patrolling this area come and kill us. The blade is just to make you feel better."

"Oh," Chuck said, slightly mollified. He settled back, watching them with narrowed eyes. "So, tell me again how you came up with the brilliant idea to kill yourselves and not tell me until it was almost too late."

Dean sighed. It was going to be a long hour.


After a tense hour and a half Chuck leaned over, handing the angel blade back to Cas, who took it with a relieved smile.

"Looks like something went our way for once," Dean said, stretching. "Thanks, Chuck." He paused, looking thoughtfully at the tense lines around his friend's eyes and mouth. "Look, I don't blame you for being angry, I would be too. I don't even know how this happened, and I was there."

Chuck looked at Dean strangely. "I do," he said, standing up. "Love is a powerful force... 'and greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friend.' "

Dean and Cas boggled at the little man as he walked out into the night.

"Did he just…?" Cas spluttered.

"Yep," Dean agreed with a grin. "It takes balls to quote that particular book to an angel."

The hunter snorted with laughter at the outraged look on Cas's face and flopped back on the bed, pulling the angel with him. As they laughed, and kissed, and touched, and whispered their secrets, Dean decided on one thing. It might be the end of the world, but his life was just beginning.