Fast update because this plot bunny was eating me alive. Warning for the recount of Dean's past. Mentions of rape and general ugliness. Next chapter will be a week or so, maybe longer.


Too tired to walk, Cas called a cab to take him from the diner to the house. He let himself in the front door, not at all surprised that the house was dark and empty. A peek through the kitchen window didn't surprise him either - the Nova wasn't there.

Benny and Andrea were in New York. Charlie was on a weekend thing with her LARP group. And Dean hadn't come home. Cas was well and truly alone with some very confusing thoughts.

He walked down the stairs to the basement room he and Dean shared, switching on the lights as he went. Cas pulled sweats and clean boxers from his dresser and went to the bathroom. He turned the water on in the shower as hot as he could stand it, letting his head fall forward to rest on the cool tiles.

Nearly seven years of waiting, hoping, praying that Dean would see him as more than a friend. And for one brief shining moment, he'd had it, with Dean's sweet, soft lips pressed against his own. He'd seen their entire future in seconds, both of them happy and healthy, and then it was gone. Just like that.

Eyes burning, Cas shook his head, determined not to cry. He dumped a bunch of shampoo in his hand, scrubbing his hair with abandon.

He'd had everything for thirty beautiful seconds.

Now, he didn't know what he had. It was entirely possible Dean would be freaked enough to end their friendship. That did it. That thought made the tears bubble over and Cas sank to the bottom of the shower. He pulled his knees tight against his chest, hiding his face in his hands.

He cried quietly, mourning what he'd probably already lost. When the water ran cold, he stood on shaky legs and shut it off. Cas gave his body a half-assed toweling, slipping his boxers and sweats onto still damp legs.

Opening the door, he blinked stupidly.

Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed they'd been sharing for the past four years. He looked exhausted. He looked wrecked. He looked the way Cas felt.

"Dean?" Cas asked timidly.

"Hey."

"Are you alright?" Cas tossed his dirty clothes into the hamper. He sat on the loveseat across from the bed.

Dean stared down at his hands. "No."

"Oh." Cas's heart sank.

"I shouldn't have - I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry, Cas."

"You're sorry? I don't understand -"

"I shouldn't have kissed you. I'm sorry. I know you - I mean - shit," Dean dropped his face into his hands.

"I liked it," Cas said softly. "I liked kissing you. I've been wanting to do that for a long, long time."

"You have?" Dean looked up, surprised, pink painting his cheekbones and neck.

"Yes."

"Why?"

Cas hesitated. He was afraid to tell Dean that he'd been in love with him for years. He didn't want to scare him off. "I just - I just have. That's all."

"Really? You've been wanting to what, experiment?" Dean wasn't angry, but he did look confused.

"No I -" sighing, Cas stood, yanking his towel off his shoulders. "I just - I have feelings for you. And I have for a long time." He turned away from Dean, balling the towel in his hands. "I love you," he whispered.

Silence.

Cas couldn't bear to turn around, afraid of the anger or worse, the contempt, that was no doubt obvious on Dean's handsome face. He couldn't bear to see the illusion crumbled. At least before, he had their wonderful friendship. Now, he wouldn't even have that.

"You don't - you don't mean that," Dean murmured.

"Yes, I do. I've been in love with you since you set that hot chocolate on my table. That very first night, when you showed me a little slice of kindness. When I'd been all but cast out of my home, you turned on a light and opened the door. You made me feel safe, wanted. Right from the beginning, Dean. You made me feel like I wasn't a worthless piece of human trash. I fell in love with you. How could you expect me not to?"

"Cas," Dean whispered, voice heavy with emotion. "Don't - please -"

He turned finally.

Dean's eyes were filled with tears threatening to spill over. "Can't we just - can't we just stay friends?"

"If that's all you can give me, then yes," Cas said sadly, shoulders drooping. "I - I wasn't expecting you to kiss me, Dean. I wasn't expecting you to make the first move."

"I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."

"It's ok. I should have seen that you didn't - that you don't feel anything for me -"

Dean turned his head away, a pink flush lighting up his cheeks. He seemed embarrassed, ashamed - oh.

Oh.

"Unless," Cas said slowly, "unless you do feel something for me. Unless you do have feelings for me, too."

"I need a shower," Dean said as he stood, voice cracking.

"No. Sit."

Green eyes widened, but he obeyed, dropping back down onto the bed.

"Am I right?"

He shook his head vehemently.

"Dean," Cas knelt before him, "what is it?"

"Nothing," he muttered. "It's nothing."

"I don't believe that. Please, Dean. Please tell me."

Silence. Dean looked away. He try to get off the bed, but Cas put his hands over Dean's knees, lightly pinning him in place. Dean fidgeted and squirmed, trying to pull out of Cas's hold, looking everywhere but at Cas.

"Deserve better," he finally choked out, voice cracking.

"What?"

"Dammit, Cas!" Dean shoved him off and stood. "Don't you get it? I'm crazy about you! But you - you deserve so much - you deserve better. You deserve better than me, you dumb idiot!" He stalked over to the back door, and Cas jumped to his feet, ready to get between Dean and that door. He couldn't let him leave.

"What do you mean, I deserve better? I couldn't do much better than you," he said gently.

Dean made an ugly scoffing sound. "Please."

Ignoring the way his heart was pounding, Cas crossed the floor, resting his hands on Dean's tense shoulders. "It's true. You're sweet, kind, loyal to a fault, you have an endless capacity for love, and you're brilliant, smart, funny, and gorgeous. How could I not fall in love with you?"

"You love me?"

"Yes."

"You shouldn't."

"I think I'm stable enough to be the judge of what I should and shouldn't do, thank you very much."

Dean turned back to face him. Tears were rolling slowly down his cheeks. "You could do so much better, Cas," he said again.

"I don't want better. I want you."

"I don't deserve you. And you deserve better."

"It's not about what I deserve or what you deserve. I love you. I love you, and I think you love me, and that should be enough. Right?"

"Cas, I'm - I'm -" Dean choked back a sob. "I'm broken. I'm fucked up and messed up and if you - if we try to make this something more, than I'll have to tell you," Dean choked back another sob, "and if I tell you, then you definitely won't want me. You won't." Tears ran in steady streams down his cheeks.

"I don't believe that."

Dean laughed bitterly, as he leaned against the wall and slid to the floor. "Yeah, I have feelings for you. Fuck, Cas, I've been in love with you for so long I can't remember when I wasn't. But I can't - I'm broken. I'm fucking broken." He dropped his head into his hands.

Cas sat down beside him, wrapped an arm around his shaking shoulders. "Whatever it is that you think is so broken, you should know that all I see when I look at you is this amazing man that I'm lucky to call my friend. Even though I'd like to call you a whole lot more."

"But if you knew -"

"It wouldn't change a damn thing. Whatever it is."

"Yeah? I bet it would. Want me to tell you? Want to hear the whole ball of ugly that was my life before Baltimore? I bet that would make you turn tail and run. Hell, I know it will, but damn, Cas. Guess you've been patient long enough." He yanked himself to his feet, stalked across the floor and pulled open the fridge. "Might as well have a beer while we're doing this, right?" Dean's voice had taken on an ugly, bitter tone, and it scared Cas.

"You don't have to do this."

"Yes, I do. You're so determined to love me then fine. Let's see if you're still interested when I'm done." Dean opened the can, chugged the entire beer in one go. He opened the cabinet over the fridge and pulled down a bottle of whiskey, took the cap off, and took a nice, long swig from it as well. "When I was a kid, like four, my mom died in a fire. My dad lost his shit after that. Drug us - me - drug me around the country, looking for the jackwagon that did it. Trained me how to hunt and fight in his image. Turned me into some little obedient soldier. Lessons were important. If I got it right away, great. No praise, but he didn't hit me either. If I messed up? Well, the old fucker was good with his fists, if you catch my drift." Dean took another deep swig of the whiskey. He started pacing as he continued his story.

"Never did anything but hit me. He was a dick, don't get me wrong."

Cas stood, moving to the loveseat.

"Summer I turned fifteen -" he paused and grinned mirthlessly at Cas, "oh, and by the way? I'm not twenty-five. I'm twenty-two. My birthday's in January, not June. And my last name's not Smith, it's Winc-" he stopped, seemed to think about that for a second. "It's not Smith."

"Dean -"

"Nope! I'm telling a story. Shut up and listen!" He took another deep swig of the whiskey, well on his way to roaring drunk. "Anyway, I got around, y'know? I was fifteen, but I got around. Mostly girls. Until Ken Hoffman. Damn, he was hot, Cas. Like an eighteen year old Harrison Ford. And he liked me. We hung out, got high, fooled around. Dad and I were staying a motel, and Ken came over. Took him out to the Impala. Dad caught me in the back seat, Ken three fingers deep in my ass, his dick down my throat. Fuckin' screamed at Ken to go, dragged me back in the motel room by my hair." Dean swigged the bottle again. "Beat the goddamn fuck out of me. Knocked me out. All the time screaming, calling me fag, slut, whore, whatever he could think of."

Dean dropped onto the bed and drained the last of the bottle, letting it slip from his fingers to the floor.

"I don't know how long I was out." He looked up at Cas, eyes lifeless. "When I woke up, I was naked, cuffed to the headboard and he was - he was -"

Cas stood, moved to the bed. Dean looked at him, eyes wide. He looked like a lost child.

"He was on top of me, Cas," Dean whispered. "Inside me." He clasped his hands over his mouth, like he'd said something he wasn't supposed to.

A wave of nausea swelled in Cas's stomach, and he felt like he was going to be sick. "Dean -"

"Fucking raped me. Three days, Cas. He kept me chained to that bed. He made me come, too. Made me enjoy it. He ripped me to shreds. Had to go get all sewn up when I got away. And here's the part you're really gonna love. I killed him, Cas. I got out of those fucking cuffs, found a knife, and I sliced him up like a Christmas ham. Cut his dick and balls off. Slice and dice, baby." His eyes were so wide, and it was clear he was skating the edge of hysteria.

"And then I ran. Hitched. Traded blow jobs for rides. Got the shit kicked out of me, time and time again. Ended up here with no money, so pathetic that Benny felt sorry for me. Fuckin' hell. Just a pathetic mess." He stood, walked unsteadily to the cabinets, cursing when there was no more alcohol to be found.

"You're not pathetic," Cas said quietly, finally finding his voice. His heart ached, throbbed with pain for what Dean had been through.

"Yes I am." Dean turned back to face him, tears rolling down his face again. "You ever met a man who cries as much as I do? Fuck, Cas. I'm so broken - hell, even if we got together, wouldn't be able to fuck or anything. I can't get it up. Daddy broke me. Daddy broke his sweet, pretty Dean-o. So pretty Dean-o. Look so pretty when you come, Dean-o."

Cas stared at Dean in horror.

"Ah, there we go." Dean cast that horrible, mirthless grin his way again, as he slid down the front of the fridge and onto the floor. "There we go. Cas figures it out. Cas figures out I'm not worth wasting his time on. Told you. You can do a lot better than me."

"You think this changes a damn thing? You think this makes me not want you? You don't know me as well as I thought you did."

"Seriously? What is it gonna take to get rid of you?"

"A hell of lot more than that." Cas stood and crossed the room, falling to his knees in front of Dean. "You are the strongest person I have ever met." He reached for Dean's hands, wrapping them tightly in his own. "To have lived with that all of these years. To still be able to function with the weight of that on your shoulders. If this was an effort to get me to go, it failed. If anything, I think I've fallen even more in love with you."

Dean shoved him back, shooting to his feet. "You can't love me, Cas! Aren't you fucking listening?! I can't give you anything! I can't fuck you! My dick is broken! Why aren't you listening?!"

"I am listening!" Cas jumped to his feet. "I'm hearing you! You're broken, fine. So am I. So am I, Dean. I love you, dammit. Why the hell can't you see that? And you love me, too!" He reached for Dean, pulling him tight against his chest.

"Fuck, Cas - stop -" Dean struggled in Cas's hold.

"No. I don't care what you did. I don't care where you come from. I love you. I love you with everything in me, and I'm not going to stop."

"Cas," Dean whimpered.

"I don't care about what you can't give me. I just care that you love me. If this is all I ever get, I'm fine with that. Because all I want is to be with you. In whatever capacity you can handle. Do you understand me?"

Dean trembled in his arms. "Why?" he breathed.

"Because I love you. That's why."

Choking back a sob, Dean stopped struggling, sagging into Cas's arms. He maneuvered them both until they were lying side by side on the bed, Dean cradled safely in his arms.

"I'm a terrible person," Dean whispered, voice clogged with tears.

"Self-defense."

Dean sniffled and buried his face in Cas's shoulder. He felt his tears soak into his shirt. "I do love you," he murmured. "Since that day, like four years ago. The day I tried to knock out the dumpster? You said you'd never leave me. That you'd always be there for me. Fuck, Cas. I fell in love with you that day. And tonight, I was holding you in my arms, and you looked up at me - and I kissed you. And for a moment, I just let myself think, maybe I can fucking have this. Maybe -"

"And you can. You can have this."

Dean looked at him, eyes bright with tears. "Are you sure?"

Cas cupped his cheek. "Yes," he whispered, bringing their lips together. He kissed Dean softly, pouring as much love and care as he could into the kiss, pleased when Dean responded.

His cheeks were beautifully flushed when he pulled back, staring at Cas in wonder. "What if all I can ever give you is this, Cas? What if I can never -"

"Then I'll be happy with this. It's you I want. I don't care about the sex."

"You say that now -"

"And I'll say it for a lifetime. I love you. I want you. The rest is just noise." He pulled Dean back into his shoulder. "Sleep. We'll talk more in the morning."

Dean nodded, burrowing into Cas's side. Cas forced himself to stay awake until Dean's body relaxed and his breathing evened out.

Cas fell asleep not long after, with a bright and beautiful smile on his face.


The shot echoed off the tombstones and monuments. Walking closer, he put one more bullet in the man's head.

"That's for my mom and dad," Sam Winchester growled. He cocked the gun again and fired. "And that's for my brother Dean. Fuck you!" He pulled back and kicked the body as hard as he could, his boot making a dull thump in the man's side. "Fuck you!" he screamed again, kicking the corpse in the hip. His movements lost all finesse as he attacked the man's dead body, sinking to his knees to slam the butt of the gun into his face.

"You fucking took everything from me! My whole fucking family! You fucking asshole! You goddamn sonuvabitch!" He hit the man again and again until strong hands pulled him back.

"Enough, Sam! He's dead! Enough!" Bobby Singer tugged Sam away from the body. "He's gone. Can't kill him again, y'idjit!" Sam balled up his fists and screamed. The scream turned into a sob, and he collapsed into Bobby's arms. "I know. I know, son. Let it out. Let it all out."

They collapsed into the mud, the Colt slipping from Sam's fingers as he cried, clinging to Bobby. He was dimly aware of Jo, Ellen, and Rufus moving around the graveyard. Ellen took the gun, handed it off to Rufus. Sam lost track of everything after that.

Bobby got him off the ground and into his Chevelle, and he watched through rain splattered glass as they salted and burned the poor schmuck Yellow Eyes had chosen for a meatsuit.

It was over. He'd done it. He'd gotten revenge for them. For Mary, for John - and especially for Dean.

"He doesn't even know," Sam said, as Bobby drove back to Sioux Falls. "He thinks it was Dad. He thinks Dad did all of that to him."

"Sam -"

"I have to find him. He has to know. I mean, sure, Dad knocked us both around more than he had to, but he would have never done - he would have never done that."

"You need to get back to Stanford, boy. Finish out that full ride."

"Oh fuck school, Bobby! Dean's out there somewhere. And now, it's safe. It's safe for me to find him!"

"And where do you plan on looking? I've been looking for years! Dean Winchester's a ghost. He vanished into the ether!"

Sam slumped back against the seat, crossing his arms across his chest. He knew Bobby was right.

But that didn't mean he wanted to stop looking.

"He's my brother. I miss him. There's not a day that goes by -"

"I know."

"Do you? He left thinking I hated him. He thinks he killed Dad. He doesn't know that Dad was possessed by goddamn Azazel. He deserves to know!"

"What makes you think he's even still alive?" Bobby asked softly.

"Because the alternative is unacceptable."

It was quiet after that, Sam slumped in the passenger seat.

What a ride it had been. Seven years of hunting, looking for a way. After Dean had sliced John Winchester to bits, the demon had reanimated his corpse. He'd told Sam he'd be back, left him in a motel room full of blood and his sliced up father. Bobby had made the drive to Arizona in record time, cleaned up the mess, and took Sam home with him.

Not even twelve years old, and his whole family gone, ripped away from him by horrifying yellow eyes. Sam threw himself into school after that, determined to leave hunting behind.

But Dean - he couldn't leave Dean behind. So when school work was done for the evening, he threw himself into research.

It's how he learned about Colt's gun.

A legend in the hunting community, most didn't believe in its existence. Sam did. He traced it from Sam Colt through a dozen hunters, finally landing on Daniel Elkins. The gun had been easy. Finding the demon had been the hard part.

"We're home."

Sam grunted, unfolding his long legs. He stood, stretching out the kinks from the drive. Bones came tearing out from behind the house, wagging his tail manically.

"Hey, boy," he said softly, hugging the dog to his chest. "Missed you." He stroked the dog's silky fur a moment or two, before turning to help the others unload.

Remaining silent while he helped Bobby, he hauled all his stuff upstairs and dumped it on his bed. He grabbed a set of keys off his night stand, slipped back down the stairs and out to the backyard.

The Impala sat like a queen, waiting silently for him to come back, just like she always did. Her black paint glittered in the sun, body gleaming from the wax job he'd given her last week. Sam wondered if Dad was proud of him. He'd taught himself how to work on and care for the car John and Dean had loved so very much.

He let Bones in first and slid into the driver's seat. He started her up, relishing the sound of the exhaust and the vibrations running through the frame. The car was all he had left of them. All that was left of the Winchesters. Besides himself, of course.

He pulled out of the salvage yard, turning the car out onto the open road. He didn't know where he was going, and he didn't care. Sam just needed to drive.

Three hours later, he pulled back into the yard, just as the sun was beginning its slow drop into the horizon line. Sam sat in the car for a while, letting the last few bars of Houses of the Holy play out on the tape deck. He rubbed his fingers over the brass amulet he always wore and thought of Dean.

He was supposed to leave for his sophomore year at Stanford in two days. His best friends, Brady and Jess, would be expecting him. He could just slip back into his life there and no one would know he'd killed a man over the summer.

But Dean - Dean was out there somewhere.

Sam sighed.

Bobby was forming burger patties when he let himself in. Ellen was husking corn at the table, and Jo was chopping vegetables for a salad.

"Think you could fire up the grill?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah." He took a beer from the fridge and walked back outside, pulled the cover off the grill and hit the ignition. Popping the pull tab on the can, he took a long swig of the beer, watching as two squirrels chased each other up a tree.

"Should go back to school."

"Should mind your own business," he growled at Jo as she stepped onto the porch.

"Not like you couldn't look for him in your free time. Thing is, I don't think Dean wants to be found. Would you in his shoes?"

"I don't know." He threw the empty can out in the yard. "Bobby thinks he's dead. I know it. He hasn't said as much, but I know that's what he thinks."

"What do you think?"

Sam dropped into a deck chair with a heavy sigh. "I don't know. I want to believe he's still alive, but after all of that - I don't fucking know, Jo."

Jo pulled on her blonde ponytail. "I think you should go back," she said again. "Bobby and Mom are gonna keep looking, and I think Dean would want you to go back to school. Don't you?"

"Yeah, probably."

He didn't say anything else, but two days later, he was on a flight back to San Francisco, and pretty Jessica Moore met him at the gate.