Dean couldn't move.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. He could move, but he wasn't sure if he should.

He waited for a moment, listening to the quiet of the room, then turned to look at the clock on the nightstand. The damned angel knife was partially blocking the glowing red digital read out of the clock, but he could see a six in front of it. Sometime between six and seven, then. The alarm was set for seven-thirty, so he was still safe- for the moment.

Once he was satisfied that he wasn't in immediate danger of being discovered in an awkward situation, he turned his head to what he had awoken to.

Lifting his head, he saw that Cas was still fast asleep (the guy seriously slept like a rock. Maybe he was making up for several millenia of not sleeping). Cas was turned toward him, his head resting against the right side of Dean's chest, his injured arm snaked loosely around Dean's waist. Even more awkward, Dean found that his arms had found their way around the slumbering fallen angel, their legs comfortably intertwined.

Dean peered suspiciously over the nightstand and saw that his brother was still fast asleep, snoring lightly with his back turned to them.

Oddly, in the relative privacy of being the only one currently conscious within the motel room, he found that he didn't really mind the proximity. It was weird being so close to Cas, but it was a comfortable kind of weird.

It reminded him of laying in bed with Lisa, on the nights that they were content just to lay in each other's arms, enjoying one another's company. Only, there was a pretense that he had felt when he was with Lisa. With her, it was a situation born of grief and obligation- a promise that he had made to live the apple-pie white-picket-fence life that his then cage-bound brother had wanted for him. He found that pretense missing here, wrapped around his best friend.

Woah, dude- hold up. This is Cas. This is the socially awkward holy tax accountant you're constantly ripping on for staring and invading your personal space. Also, if you hadn't noticed, he's kind of a dude.

Dean frowned. What the crap was going on in his head right now? Of course Cas is a dude. No shit! The dude's been his best friend for like five years. So, what then? Did this mean he-

Nope. Got away again. Where were we?

Dean carefully shifted, untangling himself from Castiel and, as quietly as he could muster, padded to the bathroom.

Once the door was closed, he turned on the sink tap and splashed the cold water over his face, then stood staring at his reflection in the mirror with his hands braced on the counter.

Come on, Winchester- think. It's right there, you're just choosing not to-

Dean shook his head, trying to reboot his confused, sleep-addled brain.

Deciding he was up, he slipped back out into the room and grabbed a clean set of clothes from his duffel bag and crept back to the bathroom to shower.

Once the water was to his liking, he stepped in and let the warmth wash over him, ruminating on the previous night and (trying) not to think about what he'd woken up to and the thoughts that had followed.

Because of you, Dean Winchester...

Ramiel's words rang through his mind, her accusations that he had been the ultimate cause of Castiel's fall. He still saw the reasoning, and he didn't argue with it. He'd still gank the bitch, but she was right about that. The other angel bitch, the one that had berated him for Castiel's madness had said that his very touch corrupts, and he had a feeling she was right as well. It seemed like everything he cared about turned to crap.

For the love of a human my brother spiraled into depravity and rebellion...

Dean tilted his head forward, letting the water create a curtain around his face as he brooded on the memory. Did Castiel love him? He supposed that he did, at least in the happy hippie 'love all God's creatures' way. He knew that Castiel trusted him, that he thought of him and Sam as his friends.

But love?

Dean groaned, banging his head on the shower wall in frustration. He turned the water off, wrapping a towel around his waist as he stepped back out onto the cool tile of the bathroom floor to dress.

This was confusing.

Despite his best efforts, his thoughts circled back to what had been drifting through his mind from almost the instant he woke up this morning. Did he find Cas attractive? He supposed he did. The stark contrast of Castiel's complex blue eyes against the dark brown and nearly constant bed-head hair, the mysterious and often puzzled expressions on his pale-

Ugh! Knock it off, dude! You sound like a teenage girl!

It's not like it's the first time he's found a guy attractive, but normally he'd pushed those thoughts away as quickly as they'd formed. Women were all he's known. But... this was Cas. His best friend. Maybe the only real friend he had left, aside from his brother- and even that had been shaky since he'd returned from Purgatory.

He didn't want to screw this up, whatever it was.

He'd lost Bobby, he'd lost Jo, and Ellen and Ash... Everyone he gave a damn about. There was Garth, but the vote was still out on the guy, even if he had proven to be a trustworthy ally. He didn't want to lose Cas just because he had a crush on the guy.

Oh, jeez. Damn it, there was no going back on it now, now that he had actually let the idea take root in his sorry excuse for a thought process.

He was going to have to face the fact that he might just be in love with his best friend.

[XXXXXX]

Sam slapped the alarm clock off, a moment later hearing the bathroom door open.

Pulling himself begrudgingly upright, he saw his brother wander back out into the room, tossing his toiletry kit back into his duffel and zipping it up, a troubled, brooding look on his face.

He watched Dean for a moment, noting that his brother seemed completely oblivious to the fact that he was awake. Dean wasn't exactly fond of mornings, but he was always awake and ready to go long before Sam was.

"Hey," he called as he swung out of bed. Dean finally looked over to him, the brooding expression never faltering even as a half-assed smile pulled across his face.

"Mornin' Sammy," Dean said distractedly as he gathered the rest of his things into his duffel bag, not that it was a whole lot, considering they'd only been checked in a couple hours before crashing.

Sam frowned, but figured Dean was probably still processing what had happened the night before, their encounter with Ramiel and the mad dash to get the hell out of town that followed. He remembered perfectly clear the things the angel had said to his brother, the accusations that she had made. He knew that Dean did, too. It was written all over his face, though neither of them had talked about it yet, and he doubted Dean would elect to do so himself.

Speaking of, he noticed Dean had fallen into one of his staring sessions, watching the still-sleeping Castiel, buried under the blankets on the other bed. Only...

Sam had to be seeing things. The brooding expression that had been on his brother's face when he had exited the bathroom was gone, replaced by one of quiet contemplation and... he was smiling?

A hundred observations from all over the last five years came crashing down on Sam all at once. The constant eye sex, Cas's creepy habit of appearing in Dean's personal space, the way Dean teased the angel over everything, Castiel showing up at odd hours of the night and watching Dean until he inevitably woke up.

How the hell had he missed that?

Holy crap.

Pretending he hadn't seen anything of the sort, Sam got to his feet and grabbed his duffel bag, pointedly not looking at his daydreaming brother. The movement seemed to snap Dean out of it, however.

"Make it quick," Dean said as Sam headed into the bathroom. "I wanna be out of here in an hour. And you know how long you girls like take getting ready to go anywhere."

Sam shot his brother a bitch-face, so tempted to shoot back with an off-hand comment about the sudden revelation that now seemed all too obvious that he wondered why he'd never seen it before now. Instead, he intentionally grumbled something incoherently as he let himself into the now vacant bathroom.

"What was that, Samantha? I can't hear you," Dean teased through the closed door.

Sam grinned to himself as he went through his morning routine. This probably wasn't the best time, seeing as they were apparently being hunted down by angels, but when was a good time, given the crap they dealt with on a constant basis?

Sam was determined to see this happen.

[XXXXXX]

Castiel was less than pleased to be woken up.

He was still sore all over from his injuries and wanted nothing more than to sleep for just a while longer.

Dean was being persistent, however, and he was correct that they needed to move on.

Grumbling in protest, he did as he was bade, slowly and carefully pushing himself upright. He still spared Dean a glare, narrowing his eyes at the smirking hunter looming over him.

"Morning, sunshine," Dean teased, ruffling his hair. Why did Dean find it so fascinating? That was the second time now he had done that.

"We're getting breakfast on the go today," Dean said as he turned to make sure that everything was in order. "I wanna make it to the cabin by tonight. That place is still sealed up tight, should be safe at least until we figure something out. How you feeling, by the way?"

Castiel frowned, giving the hunter a dull look. "I believe I feel 'like crap'."

Dean blinked at him, then laughed softly. Castiel frowned, tilting his head slightly as he regarded the hunter with curiosity. He had never heard Dean laugh like that. Had he used the slang term incorrectly? Usually when he did, Dean just looked at him oddly or smirked. This was lighter, and Castiel found himself smiling at the pure, honest sound.

He let Dean inspect the wound in his shoulder, which seemed to hurt more now than it had the previous night. The hunter had declared that it was 'looking good', which Castiel took to mean that it had begun healing well, and then re-wrapped it gently.

Once they had all addressed their morning needs, they packed what few belongings they had used in the time they'd been at the motel and headed out to the car.

"Hey," Sam said once they had their bags and supplies loaded into the trunk. "You wanna sit up front, Cas? I kind of want to do some research, I wouldn't mind the extra space in back."

Dean and Castiel both gave Sam a surprized look, as though he'd just offered to tie himself to the roof, rather than merely giving up the coveted 'shotgun'.

"I, uh.." Castiel articulated. Honestly he would love to sit up front beside Dean, but had only ever done so in Sam's absence, and didn't quite know how to react to the offer.

"Cool," Sam said, smiling as he slid into the back seat with his laptop case.

Castiel looked to Dean for guidance, but found that the other man was just staring back at him, dumbfounded.

Dean shrugged, the shock apparently wearing off as he slid into the driver's seat.

Castiel allowed himself a small smile, pleased that he had been allowed the seat of honor within Dean's beloved car.

Once they had picked up drive-through at 'anywhere but McDonald's' per Sam's request, Dean got back onto the highway heading east, on toward Whitefish, Montana.

(A/N: Sorry this one's kind of short, but the next part didn't quite fit with the chapter and I'm too anxious to watch the new episode to write it out in full, so I figured this was a good stopping point for now :) Awww Dean and yay Sammy! Now if only Cas would get a clue.. Let me know what you guys think so far! Reviews are the fuel that keep the fire burning the words onto the page, after all ;) Until next chapter!)