Title: Everytime

Beta: None. All mistakes are my own.

Pairing: Cas/Dean

Time: S6:E20: The Man Who Would Be King

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, its characters or its angels. Some dialogue is taken verbatim from the episode and so no copyright infringement intended. All rights go to Erik Kripke.

Note: Pretty long, sorry about that. This is Chapter four, part one. I will upload every Friday after a new episode of Supernatural as aired just in case I add more parts to this later on.

"I make-believe

That you are here..."

Destinies are funny little complicated things. Some, like that of the Winchester's, can be avoided and even re-written. But others, like my own, are a fixed point in time that cannot be changed no matter how hard you try. That is how I ended up in Dean's bed nearly two years ago. It is how I ended up falling and killing hundreds of my kin. Destiny is how I ended up working with a slimy snot nosed demon. And not just any demon, no; destiny had to pair me up with the King of Hell as Crowley calls himself.

Except, the thing about destinies is that, no matter how much of your future you know, they will always surprise you. And I guess, no matter how much I tried to outrun it, my destiny is to die trying to save the world, trying to save Dean.

I've been here for a long time. I've seen many things, most of which are now irrelevant. One of my most precious memories, however, came when my brothers and I were at a shoreline and a little grey fish heaved itself up on the beach. I remember my older brothers saying, "don't step on that fish, Castiel. Big plans for that fish." My immediate thought was wow. How can something so menial be regarded in such high esteem. But now I understand, for that fish gave way to what is now the most dominant creature - apart from us, that is - on the planet.

But the most precious, even if Dean cannot talk about it, is lying on the bed next to him. My head on his pale chest, listening to his steady heartbeat as if my life revolved around it, my hand on his waist, my fingers touching the soft hairs trailing down from his navel, and my Grace soaring from the connection to Dean's soul. I remember lying in bed thinking that, no matter what happened, I would always have this moment with me. It was all shattered a moment later when I tried to move away and Dean woke up, hung-over and confused. I was forced, out of my own selfish need to stop those green eyes from looking at me with such disgust, to flee thus ending our night together. Dean would never talk about it after that and I sensed he became uncomfortable around me.

I remember the most remarkable event – remarkable because it never came to pass. Two boys, an old drunk and a fallen angel averted it. The grand story. And we ripped up the ending and the rules... and destiny... leaving nothing but freedom and choice. Yet, I doubt that we truly, and irrevocably, changed everything. What if this was our destiny? What if we were meant to do this all along?

What if all roads lead to the same destination? It would mean I was destined to side with Crowley as I was destined to fall and slay my brethren. It would mean that I was meant to become infatuated with Dean Winchester only to be rejected. It would mean that I was meant to be here, standing in my heaven on an eternal Tuesday afternoon of an autistic man who drowned in a bathtub in 1953, thinking that things could only get worse from here on out.

If all roads do indeed lead to the same place then I was destined to do all these things and more. The thought alone sends shivers down my spine. Had I not done enough damage already? Was I destined to do more?

Since the night our coupling, I have been able to find Dean without having to call using a cell phone. And so, I located him driving along some highway and appear next to him. I remain clocked for a moment, studying him briefly noting how tight his jaw is and how his fingers keep pulling at his hair. He is tense, scared and perhaps even worried but why?

He turns to where I am seated; his eyes bore into mine even though he cannot possibly see me. Perhaps he feels my Grace calling out to his soul and feels my presence near him. Before he can begin to suspect, I make myself visible and offer a greeting.

"Hello, Dean," I say, trying not to smile as his eyes soften at my arrival. His jaw is still locked but he lets out a soft sigh that appeases me for the moment. He continues to drive, his knuckles turning white from the hold he has on the steering wheel. "Are you all right?

"Yeah, I'm... I'm fine," he replies, unsure. He looks at me for a moment, his eyes raking over my still body. "How are you?"

"Just wanted to check in," I tell him, unsure how long we can sustain this uncomfortable conversation.

He asks if I've made progress in my search for Crowley and, as horrible as I feel for it, I lie. I lie to Dean Winchester and I know he knows it's a lie the moment the words leave my lips. I ask if he's made any progress, trying to keep my worry out of my voice and failing. Dean looks at me from the corner of his eye, curious but willing to let it go.

I know then that he will always stand up for me. He will never doubt me and no matter how much evidence is presented, he will always be by my side. It saddens me to think that I've betrayed and lied to him. But I am doing this for him, everything I've done has always been for him and, I think deep down, he knows this and feels he owes me something.

"Where's Sam?" I ask after a moment. I can't find Sam thanks to the carvings on his ribs and I do not have a bond with his soul, which means I have to rely on other means to locate him. Asking his big brother is one of them. I know the moment he speaks that he is lying but I let it go like he let go my earlier lie.

"In fact," Dean is saying, "I'm heading out there right now to meet up with him." He bites his lower lip, hoping he's told a good enough lie to fool me. But I've known him for far too long and I know his tells.

"Well," I tell him in a voice similar to his, "I'd come if I could."

"Yeah, no, I-I get it," he replies shaking his head. It is another tense moment before he turns to me, green eyes as soft as that night we shared. "But, Cas, you'll call, right? If you get into real trouble?"

I know it is his way of asking if I'd come to him above anyone else. I would, I truly would but not this time. I nod and take my leave. But before I can spread my wings and fly to Crowley who is expecting me, I hear Dean calling out for me. Try as I might, I simply cannot ignore his prayers and, before my brain can even protest, I am standing next to Dean.

He's parked the Impala on the side of the road overlooking a beautiful lake. The moon reflects off the crisp, clean water and the fresh air is a change from the usual carbon dioxide infected air of the city. He's leaning against the hood, his long legs outstretched in front of him. He looks out at the lake as I appear, turning his body only slightly as I do.

I stand as close as possible without offending his 'personal space' rule that he was so adamant about only to have him slide near me. I don't know what to do as he turns to me, eyes clouded with tears and lower lip trembling slightly. I remain still, our eyes connecting and my Grace begging for contact. Slowly, I raise my hand and catch a tear as it falls from his green eyes. I wipe it away with the pad of my thumb, my fingers lingering on his face. He doesn't mind and, taking everything in stride, I lean into him. I place a chaste kiss on his forehead, a simple gesture meant to show him I was letting him set the pace. I do not want anything from him that he is not ready to give.

Pulling back, I lean on the Impala and look out at the lake. It truly is beautiful and peaceful, almost as peaceful as my slice of heaven. Perhaps I will return here later to try to sort my feelings out.

In the meanwhile, I feel Dean move beside me. He moves in front of me, his eyes still riddled with unshed tears. My hands move on their own as they cradle his soft cheeks.

A smile plays on my lips as he leans down and whispers, "I will never forget that night we spent together." Nothing short of a miracle can keep his insistent lips from crashing against mine. His hands pull my body closer to his simultaneously crushing me against the Impala with his hips. I feel his body's reaction towards to this new intimate contact and relish in it.

My hands, almost instinctively, reach down to slide his green jacket off his shoulders. He pulls apart before his jacket reaches the floor, his hands on each side of my face. Our eyes connect, I feel myself be pull in by the lust that fill those green eyes. I reach out for him, wanting – no, needing – to feel him against me. He doesn't protest, instead he leads me to the back of the Impala, sloppily opening the door and all but throwing me on the backseat.

Afterwards, as I make my way to Crowley's laboratory, I feel a sharp pain in my stomach. I know it is the feel of betrayal and sadness all rolled into one but I manage to bury it deep down within me as I walk through the swinging doors of the lab. Music pours out of the room, setting the tone to be quite jovial as opposed to grim experiments that happen within the four walls. Crowley looks up briefly as I enter, his focus solely on Eve's brain. The mother of all was no more, now she was just like any other demon in Crowley's pit of hell. I briefly look towards the shackled vampire nearby but I take no pity in knowing that it was one day human.

"Howdy, partner." Crowley nods in my direction, pulling himself away from the dead body on the table. He takes his gloves off, putting down his surgical tools to look at me.

"What have you found?" I ask walking towards the demon slowly. He puts on his gloves, sighing in annoyance and digs his hand into Eve's stomach.

"I've found a lot of things," he says reaching in further, extraction a handful of eggs. "For some reason... she keeps laying eggs."

He goes on to demonstrate what a effects a poker to Eve's brain has on the vampire nearby. I am not as amused as Crowley is as the vampire seizes violently, his sharp screams resonating off the dirty walls. But none of this is relevant to our cause. Eve is dead and it was something the demon won't stop reminding me off, and therefore cannot help with opening the door to Purgatory.

"I'm holding up my end of the deal," I tell him sharply, trying to end any further fighting. I am not prepared for his response.

"Ah yes," he replies, leaning into me. "But is that all you're holding? See... the stench of that Impala's all over your overcoat, Angel."

Crowley might have had a point when, later on in our fight he said I might have a conflict of interest. My interest was conflicted; my very being was conflicted when it came to Dean Winchester. I still consider myself his guardian and more. They taught me to stand up for myself, to be human and sacrifice for what you believe. They taught me everything and made me who I am today. Dean Winchester showed me that love could be both beautiful and complicated. He showed me that there is more to life than being alive. He showed me what it meant to be free, happy and part of something bigger than myself. I owe Dean everything and it was why I went to Harrow Hell to free Sam from Lucifer's cage. I obviously didn't raise all of him but the mere look on Dean's face when he saw his little brother was enough. I didn't need a thank you; just the twinkle that returned to his green eyes was enough.

"Just kill the Winchesters," Crowley ends a speech I hadn't been paying attention to. My attention was completely diverted away from the short, smart mouthed demon in front of me to the events that transpired in the back of the Impala.

"No," I reply with a growl. Crowley moves away from me, his eyes narrowing. I stare at him, daring him to make against me.

"I'll do it myself," he says after a second.

"I'll just bring them back if you do."

"No," Crowley says, "you won't. Not where I'll put 'em. Trust me, you won't even find your boy-toys body to play with."

My eyes snap to his dark, cold ones. I know how serious he is at the moment and yet, even if the thought of breaking our deal off comes to mind, I cannot get the words out. I am doing this for Dean, I remind myself, for Dean.

"No," I reply after a moment, "don't worry about them. Find Purgatory and I'll make sure the brother's don't find you."

It satisfies him for the moment but it gives me a glimpse into who I have joined forces with. Somewhere inside of me, I know that, although it seemed like a good idea at the time, working with Crowley is a mistake. A mistake I cannot possible rectify now, it was too late to back down.

I leave the lab without further confrontation, flying out to find Dean. I fly to Bobby Singer's place knowing that, even if Dean said he was going to catch up with Sam, Dean was here. I appear just as he arrives in the run down home, and follow him as he makes his way inside.

When he closes the inner door, I check my visibility by appearing in front of him as he puts his bags down. There is yelling coming from the living room, which takes Dean's attention immediately. There is a brief moment when he seems to be looking right at me, green eyes narrowed in confusion. But then I realize that he is checking the rooms behind me, making sure everything was clear. Dean makes his way into the living room where Bobby and Sam are interrogating a demon. I think to myself, wouldn't the panic room in the cellar be a better idea?

Dean motions for his brother and they go into the kitchen together. Rubbing his forehead and biting his lip, Dean tells his brother what happened.

"Cas came to see me," he says, "we had a chat on the road." Dean avoids his brother's eye contact.

When he turns, revealing a bruise on his neck, Sam turns from worried to unconvinced and gives – what Dean has come to call his 'bitch' face. Eyes narrowed, Sam replies, "is that all you did? Chat?"

"What? Ye-" Sam points to Dean's neck, challenging him to lie again. Dean clears his throat. "Okay, fine. It was more than a chat but c'mon! This whole thing is absurd! Do you really think that sweet o' innocent Cas is working for the King of hell. He's not Two-Face!"

"If he's not working for Crowley, okay fine," Sam replies sharply, "I'll apologize. In the meantime, we have to entertain the-"

"I love him," Dean whispers, cutting off his brother who stares at him in surprise. Behind Sam, Bobby stabs the demon in the leg with their demon-killing knife. Dean sees Bobby moving towards them and whispers, "relax."

"What's the hubbub?" the older hunter asks. There is a tense moment between the brothers, which I'm sure Bobby notices, but choses to ignore.

"I saw Cas," Dean says finally. "He popped in on me about two hours back. I didn't tell him anything."

"You sure? Nothing?"

Looking right at Sam, Dean replies, "Nothing, all right? Told him we were on some crap monster hunt. He doesn't know that we're getting close to C-" Dean stops, his head turning to his left where I am standing. Our eyes connect, whether he knows this or not I cannot say. He shakes his head and continues, "Crowley. You know he's our friend... and we are lying to him through our teeth."

A fight in whispers issues with Dean defending me the entire way. Bobby leaves after a joke from Dean about someone named Louis Lane, returning to the screaming demon with the demon blade in his leg. The brothers look at one another for another moment until Sam shakes his head and leaves to join Bobby. Dean follows him out, his eyes connecting with mine for third time.

It seems they suspect my true intentions. That is not the hard part for they would figure it out sometime. No, the worst part was Dean, trying so hard to be loyal, with every instinct telling him otherwise. I feel a sense of déjà vu as I look at Dean. Once, a very long time ago, I did the same for Dean. I rebelled against heaven. I practically waged war against all of the hosts in heaven all for one 'mud-monkey' as Uriel called humans. It was almost poetic in that sense.

I leave before I can listen to anything the demon says. If it was destined for them to find out who Ellsworth is, then who am I to interfere? I return to my slice of heaven, sitting down on the green grass watching the autistic man fly his kite with joy on his face. I lay back a moment later, my eyes closing recalling a memory that makes everything I'm feeling worth it.

Dean was screaming his name in agony and that is all Castiel heard as he dropped everything he was doing and rushed to his side. Dean was more important than some angel wreaking havoc in Heaven. With more urgency than needed, Castiel flew to the crappy motel where Dean, unconscious on a bed, continued to murmur out the angel's name. Confused and slightly curious, Castiel nearer the sleeping human, his face tilted to the side. Something was off about Dean... Castiel couldn't pin point it but something was defiantly off about him.

Castiel stood back, sitting down on the opposite bed from the hunter and waiting. It took nearly twenty minutes of uncontrollable name calling (mostly Castiel's) and head turning in agony before Castiel stood up and touched Dean's forehead with two fingers, snapping the hunter out of his nightmare. Dean got up from bed faster than Castiel had ever seen – his eyes roaming the room and landing on the angel who stared at him.

There was a brief moment of silence before Dean threw himself back on the bed and groaned. Castiel was about to ask if he was in pain when Dean sat up, yawning into his hands and then rubbing his face with them. His moss coloured eyes peered at Castiel from behind his fingers. Castiel stared back with as much amusement as curiosity. It was strange to see Dean so... vulnerable (even if it was during sleep).

"Is everything okay?" Castiel asked, head tilted to the side, studying Dean's reaction and loving how his eyes followed his every moment. Briefly, those green eyes landed on the angel's lips, giving the hunter a slight blush before he coughed and stood up, moving away.

" 'm fine," Dean replied, voice stiff and detached. "What are you doing here, Cas? Isn't it a bit early to be checking up on me?"

"You called out for me," Castiel replied. Dean stopped walking, turning halfway back to where Castiel was. He saw the human blink a few times before shaking his head and going into the bathroom.

The door slammed shut behind Dean and, for the first time, Castiel wondered if his having come down had been a bad idea. He stood, preparing to take flight and leave Dean to his thoughts when the door opened. Dean stepped out of the bathroom, shirtless and with a towel wrapped around his torso. Castiel hadn't noticed how much time had elapsed since they'd spoken - Enough time, apparently, to have let Dean shower.

"I've been having these dreams," the hunter said moving towards Castiel with an unshakable stare. "I don't know what they mean but they began around the time we –" Dean looked down then, his eyes falling to the floor as if it held all the answers in the world.

There was a still moment before Dean looked back up at Castiel. Without a second thought, Castiel supplied, "Around the time we slept together?"

Dean nodded.

Genuinely interested, Castiel stared at Dean waiting for him to continue. When he didn't, Castiel took matters into his own hands. He touched two fingertips to Dean's forehead, enjoying the warmth that the contact gave and almost riveting back when the images flooded into his head.

Dean's dreams were ... pornographic to say the least. They were downright sinful and perhaps that was why he couldn't voice them out loud to the angel. Carefully and almost painfully slow, Castiel pulled back his fingers and stared anywhere but Dean.

"Do you wish for me to make them go away?" Castiel asked simply, his mind going completely blank. He hoped (hoped in the most obscene way) that Dean wouldn't want to stop dreaming about him so that he could pop in on one of his dreams and ... he couldn't even finish the thought.

He was surprised when Dean replied with a stern, "no."

But the memory faded away after that replaced by the thought that Dean's words to him that night had become true. He had indeed predicted my betrayal and had, in his own way, secured himself away. He hadn't done anything but what was expected of him, I reason, Dean was, after all, a troubled soul. Abandoned by his parents, whether it was their fault or not, and betrayed by his brother twice, Dean had a destiny that would have had most men running with their tails between their legs. But not Dean.

And that was why this betrayal, predicted or not, would hurt the most. For years Dean had locked himself away until he met me, that is. He had a hard time trusting most people out there but I was different. From the moment we met, I felt his trust in me. His initial fight was... not as strong as I had expected and soon, too soon by most timelines, we'd become close. I am the only one to ever get past those barriers he set up long ago. The only one he trusted the most beside his brother.

And it only made everything worse.

I can remember the way he looked at me as I sat on that bed waiting for an explanation. It was nearly a month after our coupling and there hadn't been much development in that area. I felt a pain in my chest whenever I would check up on them so different from the strange warm pooling in my stomach that I felt whenever Dean said my name.

It became a strange fascination to me, a kink, his saying my name. Every time Dean said my name I would have to swallow hard to keep from moaning from the pleasure it gave me. When he would say, "Cas," I almost jumped him where he stood. Deep down, I think he knew what affect my name had on me because he called me almost regularly and said my name many times. There was once where Sam, looking between us confused, asked him why he kept saying "Cas" at the end of each sentence.

The entire conversation had become "What do you think, Cas?" "What are your ideas, Cas?" "Any thoughts, Cas?" and, as much as I was enjoying it, Sam was getting annoyed. Dean stopped soon after that comment, dropping his eyes from mine as well.

And then night hit and his nightmares had him calling out for me. I would swoop down to comfort him every time. But that night was different. Dean was different. Every thing happened so fast and, even now, I cannot say who began the events that plague me.

Castiel looked at Dean, head tilted to the side. The night had come around again and, Castiel could tell from the way Dean kept getting up to pour himself more coffee, that the hunter didn't want to sleep tonight. He could feel Dean's fears and, almost like he was the one having it, he could see the way his blue eyes looked at Dean in his dreams.

Was that how I looked, he vaguely wondered as he made himself visible behind Dean as he got his tenth cup of coffee. When the hunter turned, he almost dropped the white cup from seeing Castiel. He gasped loudly for a moment and then bit his lower lip.

"We've talked about this, Cas," Dean said looking over Castiel's shoulder. Castiel tilted his head in confusion, waiting for clarification. "Personal space, dude."

"Ah," was all Castiel could say as he stepped back from the hunter. Dean walked past him and sat on the bed with a loud sigh.

There was obvious tension being held in the hunter's body and Castiel wished he could be the one to release it but it was all in vain. He knew Dean would never let the events be replayed, especially now that Castiel knew his dreams were riddled with fantasies of their night together.

Castiel couldn't tell Dean how he felt for he barely knew himself. He was sure of the feeling in his body whenever he was around the hunter. The way that his heart rate sped up and his hands shook from wanting to touch Dean. But he couldn't be sure it was nothing more than lust because he'd never experienced the feeling before.

"Wha- what are you, um, doing here, Cas?" Dean asked in between a yawn and a groan. He held a hand up to his stomach as if something hurt slightly. Castiel furrowed his eyebrows. He would help, he would heal him and then they would talk.

"Let me see," Castiel commanded and was surprised when Dean put his coffee cup down and stretched out on the bed. He pulled up his moss green shirt, much like the colour of his eyes, and revealed his pale skin to the angel. Castiel faltered a moment. This was too easy. It was never this easy to get Dean to let Cas heal him. Something was 'up'.

Castiel paid no attention to it; instead his eyes were drawn to Dean's hips and the way his pants pulled tight against his skin. The curve of Dean's hips immediately had him flushed as he remembered their night together and how Dean has moaned out in need when Castiel had kissed him...

"Um, Cas?" Dean said snapping Castiel out of his thoughts. "Getting kinda cold here. Gonna heal me or not?"

With as much detachment as possible, Castiel put his hands on the pale flesh and healed Dean's bruised ribs. He pulled back as fast as he could, noting the way Dean seemed to follow his every move with curiosity. Something about the hunter was... different. Something like-

"We'd call Cas," Dean's voice pours into my mind. Immediately, I forgo the trip down 'memory lane' and pop in on the Winchester's without their knowledge. I appear behind Dean, like I usually do, and listen in.

They found Ellsworth like I knew they would but the place was wiped clean something that had Sam thinking I was involved. I look around, taking each and every detail before turning back to Dean who was adamantly pleading his case to Sam.

"This is Cas! Don't we owe him the benefit of the doubt, at least?"

Sam shakes his head once and, reluctantly, looks up at the ceiling. I look up too, wondering what had Sam so interested. When he began to call out for me, eyeing Dean in an 'I told you so' way when I didn't appear, I tried to keep myself from appearing.

"Castiel..." Dean says in a mix of a whisper and a plea, "Come on in."

But I didn't go to them... because I knew they would have questions. Questions I couldn't answer but also because... I was afraid. They could find out the truth, Dean could extract any information he wanted from me with a mere look. And it scared me, the power he seemed to hold over me so quickly and so efficiently, scared me to hell.

"Cas is busy," Dean finally says with a shrug. They turn to leave, joining Bobby who had been somewhere in the room with them. I had been too preoccupied with looking at Dean that I hadn't searched the house until it was too late. A moment after turning and heading for the door, demons spring out of nowhere and attack them.

Crowley sent his very best. I was caught as much by surprise as the rest of them. The attack left me with a choice. I could reveal myself and smite the demons, this angering Crowley more, or remain hidden and possibly watch as they got killed or wounded. They were my friends. My body makes the decision before my mind can catch up, making me visible and smiting the demons in less than a minute.

For that brief moments... I was me again. I wasn't a fallen angel. I wasn't Castiel the one who fell for the humans. I was just Castiel, Angel of Thursday, protector and soldier of Heaven. I was... me ... before emotions clouded my judgement.

"It's good to see you, Cas," Dean mutters. I help him up; unsure as to how he ended up on the floor. My hand strays on his for a moment longer than necessary and I'm sure Dean knows it too by the way he moves as far away as he can once I let go.

"You all right?" I ask looking directly at Dean. It is Sam who answers but I am not interested in his reaction as I say, "I'm glad I found you. I come with news."

As I expected, Dean's face lights up with an indescribable emotion. He squashes it out a moment later, as Sam looks at him, eyes narrowed in confusion.

"Yeah?" Dean coughs and looks down at the floor, my eyes follow his movements before I can stop myself. Dean appears nervous but why? "What'd you find?"

"I firmly believe Crowley is alive," I say waiting for Dean's head to come back up and our eyes to meet. They do a moment later with Dean looking at Sam, however.

"You think, Kojak?" He turns to Bobby rather than to look at me and asks, "Well, what do we think about Cas saving our asses... again?"

The two men look at one another before Bobby says, "I think we owe you an apology."

"Why?" I look at Dean questioningly, already knowing the answer but wanting him to say it not Sam or Bobby. I want Dean to tell me he never suspected my involvement, however true it is, with Crowley. But he remains quiet, his eyes firmly planted on his shoes.

They explain what happened; all the while my gaze is on Dean who doesn't look up at me until I take a step towards him. He looks up then, his eyes wide with dread like if he was waiting for me to yell at him for ever believing I would work with a demon.

"You know ... you could've just asked me," I say looking directly into Dean's eyes. "I would've told you."

"And ... we should have. We should've never doubted you," Dean replies with a forced smile. "It's ... I hope you can forgive m – us."

"It's forgotten," I say with a small smile. Dean's shoulders visibly lax and he sighs out in relief, looking at his brother with a smile. "It's a little absurd, though."

"I know, I know," Bobby replies, walking away from the house. I follow behind with Dean.

It is then that I make the mistake of adding, "Superman going to the dark side. I'm still just Castiel."

Dean's eyes darken as he looks at me. He chews his lower lip, looking at Bobby and Sam who'd turned to look at me. "I guess we should put away the Kryptonite, right?"

I nod in response. Of course, at the time I didn't realize the mistake I'd made. But it was all over for me, from that moment on. Everything I'd worked for was about to fall around me, trapping me with my own stupidity.

In retrospect, I think I made the mistake on purpose. Perhaps my own subconscious wanted the Winchesters to know of my betrayal. I had been so careful thus far and to make such an amateur mistake... It wasn't logical. I was my own downfall, once more.

It wasn't my feelings this time but my need for Dean to know that, had things been different, I would not have chosen to work with Crowley. My need for him to find out and, somehow, stop me from opening Purgatory (and, perhaps, killing myself by swallowing the multitude of corrupt souls that lay in its infinite hell) overwhelmed my survival instinct. I wanted him to stop me, to beg me to stop with this stupid, idiotic asshat of a plan that was doomed to fail.

I wanted Dean to ... acknowledge me the way he had all those months ago as we laid in bed together. I wanted him to love me... to hate me... to feel something for me instead of looking down whenever I was near. I needed Dean to stop me before this plan went any further.

Note: I think this episode is one of the saddest and most revealing in Supernatural regarding Castiel. It seriously made me love the angel even more because he is just so agnst ridden and innocent! The ending especially got to me. So many feels!

**Did anyone see tonight's episode? OMG Dean was so mean to Bobby! I mean, the man stayed on Earth for you, dimwit and you tell him he's unnatural? All I can say is: IDGIT!**

Reviews would be awesome as would pointing out any mistakes you see! Thanks for reading!