Dean passed out as soon as they made it to the Impala. His sleep was short lived because the aching in his ribs kept waking him up. Every time he opened his eyes, he saw the half-shaped moon in the sky. It was the only light available to him aside from the headlights of the car.

He focused on the leather smell that always brought him comfort. It was the smell of his father. John had practically lived in the Impala before he met his mom. This car used to be the only home Dean had known for years. It was the only solid memory he had of his parents. It was all that had been left from that night. When he'd been old enough to drive, Dean took Sammy on long car trips and it was like they'd had their family back together. This car had been their most stable home for many years.

But then Dean met Castiel, and he found a different home in him. In Castiel he'd found the ordinary suburban life he'd always wanted. He'd found normal. He'd found safety. He'd found solace.

"Dean? Dean, can you hear me?"

Dean heard the mumbled words escaping him, but he wasn't sure he was making any sense. He wanted to tell Castiel that he was alright, tell him not to worry. But he was so tired.

"Just drive," Dean tried to say. "'S okay."

"We're almost there," Castiel said.

The road got bumpy, and Dean felt something shatter inside him. He'd been punched and kicked several times, but he hoped nothing was broken. A few bruised ribs were fine, but he had no time for broken bones. Somewhere in between the exhausted groans, Dean lost consciousness again.

When Dean woke up again, he was in a bedroom. There was a light on in the room, but it was faint. Dean lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. A blanket covered the lower half of his body, and when he lifted it, he realized he was clad in his boxers. The lamplight allowed him to see the purple spots across his torso. He'd gotten the ass-kicking of his life. It hadn't been the smartest move to struggle as he was dragged away by the men from the restaurant. There'd been a lot of them, and they'd all had some type of weapon pointed at him. Dean was surprised they hadn't used them on him. He figured the angels would not appreciate a dead version of him. That would take away all the fun.

"Dean."

Castiel was on the other side of the bed, fully clothed, sitting over the blanket. He was holding a water bottle in his hand, and after a few seconds of staring at it, Dean realized he was offering it to him.

Dean's mouth was dry, and he could use a drink of water, but he knew he'd have to sit up to drink it, so he debated it.

"I'll help you up," Castiel said.

Sometimes they communicated telepathically. Or maybe they just knew each other too well. Either way, Dean was glad Castiel understood his hesitation.

Castiel pulled Dean up by his shoulders, fluffing the pillows behind him and setting them upright so when his back touched the headboard, it was comfortable. Dean bit his lip to stifle a groan, shifting ever so slightly until the pain diminished. Actually, the pain was not as terrible as it had been in the car. That was a good sign.

"I gave you pain killers when you woke up for a minute," Castiel said, almost as if on cue. "Did they help?"

"Yeah, I think so." Dean accepted the water, and he took a few careful gulps until he downed half of the bottle.

"I cleaned the wounds on your face," Castiel said, his voice was rough and soft all the same. Dean would never get used to the feelings it stirred in him.

There weren't any traces of blood when he licked his lips, but his lower lip still felt swollen. "I feel better. Thank you."

Before Dean knew what was happening Castiel angled Dean's face in his direction, caressing his thumb against his cheek. The way Castiel looked at him filled Dean with a deep love that he'd tried to repress during the months of their endless fights. That's what Dean had done, repressed all the love he felt for his husband, because it was easier to be angry than to make things better for both of them. He wondered if Castiel felt the same way.

Castiel continued looking at him, his blue eyes reflected the soft light in the room. He wanted to make sure Dean was truly okay. When he was satisfied with what he saw, he lowered the hand holding Dean's face and used it to take out a crumbled piece of paper from his pants. When he held it out to Dean, it took him longer than necessary to realize what Castiel was showing him. It was the famous Wanted poster that the group of men had been rambling about. It had Dean's picture on it. A picture that he remembered being on their fridge when they'd left home.

"Where did they get that?" Dean asked.

Castiel folded up the paper again and set it on the nightstand beside him. "They must have gone to our house. It makes me sick to think that they ruined our home. I don't know what else they took, but they're clearly doing everything it takes to find you."

"I'm not surprised, Cas. I killed one of them. I gave them something to be scared of. Now they want to prove their point by killing me."

Castiel's breath hitched. "Dean, I'm not liking this. When we set out on the road, I knew it would be dangerous, but this is starting to look like a suicide mission more than anything else. We don't even have any weapons to defend ourselves from another attack. And I don't know how much we can keep relying on cold-blooded demons to do the dirty job."

Dean grimaced at the memory of the woman slicing throats left and right, like she was enjoying what she was doing, like it was the thrill of a lifetime. "Demon. That explains it."

"Lucifer sent her," Castiel said. "Who would have thought that we'd end up in a world trying to hide from angels and hoping for the devil's mercy?"

Dean snorted. "This is so fucked up."

"Have you given any consideration to the logistics of becoming an angel?" Castiel asked, his eyes fixed right on Dean again, with an intensity that Dean had grown used to over the years.

"Not really," Dean confessed. "Not something I'm looking forward to."

"I can't imagine you being...not human."

Dean rubbed a hand over his face, and it stung a bit. "Yeah, me neither."

Castiel's hand covered Dean's hand on the bed, and Dean smiled faintly when he saw the ring that was still on his finger. "We'll survive this, Dean. One way or another. We'll get through it together."

Dean turned his hand so their palms touched, and he twined their fingers, the rings on both sides. "I believe you."

"You should get some sleep. We still have a long way to go."

"Where did you find this place, anyway?" Dean asked.

"Abandoned house," Castiel said with a shrug. "We're finally outside of Texas. Somewhere in New Mexico."

"Come here," Dean said, tugging Castiel's hand until he shifted around and his body curled against Dean's. Carefully, Castiel rested his head on Dean's shoulder, and he draped an arm gently over Dean's torso. Seconds ticked by and Dean felt completely at ease. He pressed his lips against the top of Castiel's head, and he curled his other arm around his back. Dean couldn't remember the last time they were this close, without any anger seeping through. For the first time in a long time, Dean wasn't afraid to do or say something that would set Castiel off.

Somehow, they'd found their peace among the madness.

Castiel lifted his head, met Dean's eyes, and he kissed the corner of his mouth. "I really, really missed you."

"I missed you too, Cas. I shouldn't have yelled at you all those times," Dean said, because he desperately wanted to turn back time, to when their lives were not in imminent danger. They wasted so much time arguing when they could have been doing this.

"I should have told you what was wrong," Castiel said. "I shouldn't have pushed you away. We both made mistakes. But if it's okay with you, I'd like to leave it all in the past. I don't want to fuck this up again."

"You didn't do it alone," Dean said, pressing a kiss to Castiel's forehead.

They lay in a comfortable silence for a long while. Castiel traced soft patterns on Dean's palm and pressed warm kisses on his shoulder, neck, face, until Dean could do nothing but close his eyes and feel. There was no urgency in his actions, but it was everything Dean had missed from their separation. This closeness was perfect, and Dean couldn't get enough of it.

"We'll find Anna," Dean said abruptly. He wasn't sure why he said it, even though the thought had been in his mind for quite some time. They'd been avoiding this subject, but Dean was done with poor communication.

Castiel paused his movements, his lips just below Dean's ear. "Dean."

"I know you're worried," Dean said. "I know you haven't brought it up because you think it'll create another argument. But I haven't forgotten her. Not for one second. The first thing I'll do when I'm—when I'm—"

"An angel."

"The first thing I'll do when I'm an angel is find your sister," Dean said.

"What about the plan? What about Michael?"

"That can wait. I'm sure angels have some tracking mojo that I can use when the time comes. Either way, we're going to find her."

Castiel looked at Dean for a moment, and then he nodded. "I'd like that."

Dean grinned widely and Castiel flushed, dipping his head. It was endearing, and Dean felt a jolt of pride at knowing he could still fluster Castiel after all this time. "You know that I love you, right?"

"It's still nice to hear it."

Dean closed his eyes and smiled when he felt a kiss to his nose.

Castiel had been driving for six hours straight when he stopped for gas and lunch. Since they had a long drive to California, they'd set out first thing in the morning. Dean had insisted on taking turns driving, but Castiel had slapped Dean's hands away from the wheel enough to get the point across.

The gas station wasn't as full as the one in Denton had been. It was as though the more time passed, the decrease of the human population became more obvious. The thought alone startled Castiel, so he focused instead on filling up the tank. This gas station actually had an employee inside the store, and he was taking money, though he had a sign stating he was open to other forms of payment. Castiel just threw down the last of his cash and grabbed a few snacks for the road.

Once the tank was full, Castiel tossed a couple of Slim Jims to Dean and started the car.

"Ow, asshole, you hit me in the ribs," Dean complained, squirming in the seat. "Did you at least get me a drink?"

"Water," Castiel said, offering him a bottle.

Dean eyed the drink as though Castiel was offering him poison. "There wasn't any Coke?"

"Coke won't keep you hydrated," Castiel said, getting back on the road. He maneuvered the wheel with his elbows as he tried to open a bag of Doritos.

"Fine, but that doesn't mean I can't drink both," Dean grumbled.

"You already made me stop three times so you could take a piss. I'm not risking another stop for at least three hours. So drink slow and hold it in. You're slowing us down." Castiel took a mouthful of Doritos.

Dean grumbled something incoherently. He fell silent while he drank his water, and then he sprung back to run his mouth. "Oh, but don't you forget that you stood right next to me to piss every single one of those times. You also had to go, but you were too chicken to stop and do it. Now you're trying to put it all on me. I see right through you, fucker."

Castiel rolled his eyes, pushing in the cassette tape, not bothering to check what was there. He was relieved to hear Elvis Presley. Listening to Led Zeppelin was getting old—not that Dean would agree.

Mean Woman Blues started playing, but Castiel skipped to (Let Me Be Your) Teddy Bear because that one was his favorite.

Dean snorted. "Nice way to shut me up."

"I wasn't trying to shut you up," Castiel said, glancing briefly at Dean with a smile. "I have other, much better methods to do that."

"Like what, you're going to tape over my mouth?"

Castiel laughed. His flirting game must be truly weak if Dean didn't catch the innuendo. "I think you forgot to take your painkillers, Dean. They're in the glove compartment."

Dean sighed, reaching over to take out the pills. He gulped them down with his water, and then proceeded to rip open one of his Slim Jims. "Thanks," he said, as an afterthought.

"No problem." Castiel spared another glance and caught Dean looking back. "What?"

"You were hitting on me before, weren't you?"

"Judging by your reaction, I don't think it worked." Castiel laughed again. "Besides, I wasn't hitting on you. I already put a ring on it, so we're way past that."

Dean wheezed in laughter, and then groaned in pain. "Don't make me laugh."

"I wasn't trying to. Not like I'm picturing you in a leotard and high heels singing next to Beyoncé."

Dean threw back his head in laughter, followed again by a loud groan. "Ahh, I fucking hate you."

"I love you, too." Castiel smiled, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles went white. Castiel knew he meant it, without a doubt. He knew that his mind had been clouded a few weeks ago, when he couldn't feel anything but numbness. But now Castiel was sure that he had never stopped loving Dean for a second. And the feeling was…thrilling. "I love you. God, I love you."

Dean reached across the seat for Castiel's hand, and he rubbed his thumb against it. "Hey, Cas?"

"Yeah?"

"Since you're being nice right now, can I ask you a favor?"

Castiel gave Dean a sideways glance. "What favor?"

"Could you please pull over so I can take a piss?"

Castiel gaped at Dean, letting go of his hand. "I can't fucking believe you! I told you when we were at the store to go, but you said you didn't have to."

"I just drank all the water you gave me!" Dean said, throwing his arms out. "Why'd you bring me such a large water bottle, anyway?"

"You're a fucking child." Castiel moved to the side of the road, down to the field surrounding them. He turned off the car and glared at Dean. "Go. I'll wait here for you."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "You don't have to go too?"

"No."

"But we're on the same pee schedule."

Castiel resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. So many eye rolls gave him a headache. "Go, Dean."

"Alright, whatever you say." Dean got out of the car and walked a few steps away with his back to the road.

Castiel tapped his fingers on the wheel, singing an Elvis song to himself. Then he started bouncing his leg. He glanced out at Dean, who kept looking back over his shoulder with a smirk. Castiel would not give him the satisfaction.

But it was stupid to hold it in, especially when the point of his speech was that the more they stopped, the more time it would take them to arrive. And not going now would mean that Castiel would eventually have to stop again, and soon.

Castiel cursed the angels and hopped out of the car, stomping his feet towards Dean.

"Hey, buddy," Dean said, his voice light and giddy. "Glad to see you joining me once again on this nice patch of grass."

"Shut up."

Dean giggled and did a little dance once he tucked himself back in.

Once they made it to California, Dean felt well enough to drive. It had taken a lot of convincing for Castiel to hand over the wheel, but eventually, he did. They only had a few hours left to get to Oakland, and Dean felt unusually upbeat. He'd missed the feeling of driving his Impala, and having Castiel on the passenger seat, smiling at him when he thought he wasn't looking. There was a new energy between them, something intense and electric. Dean swelled with pride every time he looked over at Castiel, so he did it often.

"Why are you staring, Dean? Watch the road."

"I can multi-task."

"Sure you can."

"Hey, hand me the Zeppelin tape, would you?"

Castiel sighed, digging through the box under the seat. He'd always complained about Dean's taste in music, but Dean had compromised by listening to all of Castiel's favorite pop songs. If the Impala was equipped for it, they would be listening to Lady Gaga at the moment. But because there was still some good in the universe, they were stuck with Dean's cassette tapes.

Once Castiel inserted the tape, Dean scanned to the right track. Black Dog was one of his favorites. And he knew for a fact that Castiel was fond of it too.

Hey, hey, baby, when you walk that way, watch your honey drip, can't keep away.

Dean shook his head to the beat, and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He glanced at Castiel, who was chewing off a grin. With his window rolled down, the wind was blowing his hair, making it wilder than usual. He looked perfect.

Dean rolled down his own window, and then he sang along.

Eyes that shine, burning red, dreams of you all through my head.

Castiel was full-on grinning now, like a total sap. And Dean loved it.

Hey, hey, baby, oh baby, pretty baby, darling can't you do me now?

There was a deep laughter coming from the passenger seat, and it only made Dean sing louder, singing entirely off key, but not giving a single damn about it. The music and laughter blended together in harmony, filling the car to the brim. Dean had never felt so light.

Push it, baby, push it, babe. Ooh, I'd really like to do it now.

Dean lowered the volume enough to be heard over the song. This time, Castiel didn't even try to hide the wide smile on his face, the one that wrinkled his nose and brought out his crow's feet. Despite those details, Castiel looked ten years younger. God, Dean had missed that smile.

"You like that one, don't you?" Dean asked, winking.

Castiel laughed. "It brings back good memories."

Dean licked his lips. "Damn right it does."

Black Dog had been playing in the background during his first night with Castiel. It'd happened in Dean's ratty old apartment, on their second date—because they'd been too drunk on their first. It had been storming outside, which was the perfect excuse to ask Castiel to stay the night. And even though his intentions had been entirely innocent at first, the night took a different course after a few beers on Dean's couch.

At the time, Castiel had dropped all pretenses about liking classic rock. Dean had gasped overdramatically when Castiel had confessed that his music taste was more in line with whatever tracks were played on the pop stations. He liked getting lost in the repetitiveness of the music, especially since it was the type of music he listened while he worked at the Roadhouse. Dean had understood, because from the moment they'd met and Castiel didn't laugh at his jokes when he didn't find them funny, he knew that the man was as honest as they came. And instead of being offended, Dean found him fascinating.

So when their second date had taken a turn, and Dean realized Castiel would spend the night for the first time, his nerves hit the roof. Dean played some Zeppelin to keep his cool, and Castiel didn't protest at all. In fact, he'd looked just as nervous as Dean, which, granted, did help the situation slightly.

As the music played, Dean finished the last of his beer and pretended to check his watch. He mumbled something about heading to bed, and after a moment, asked if Castiel wanted to join him. Castiel had blushed in an endearing way that Dean would never get tired of seeing, and he followed Dean to his bedroom. When they'd found themselves alone, neither of them made a move. Castiel had seemed genuinely curious about Dean's bookshelves, holding a variety that ranged from Vonnegut to Orwell to Austen, because Jane Austen was a kickass author and she deserved to be read by everyone.

Castiel picked up a worn copy of Of Mice and Men, kicked off his shoes, and sprawled on Dean's bed, looking right at home. After a bit of hesitation, Dean joined him, keeping a bit of space between them, in case he was reading things wrong. Castiel started reading the book out loud, his voice rough and solid above the music in the living room. Feeling bold, Dean lay his head on Castiel's shoulder, and listened to his deep voice as he continued reading.

Outside, there'd been thunder, and the hard rain had beaten against the windows.

Sometime later, while Dean had flipped in and out of consciousness, he'd felt Castiel's hand on his hair, fingers combing it gently. The flutter in Dean's heart had woken him up better than caffeine ever had, and he'd glanced up at Castiel, dark blue eyes meeting his with something like reverence. They'd kissed, then, because Dean had been all out of words. And Castiel had sighed into his mouth, sliding down on the bed until they were completely horizontal, and until Castiel shifted over him. With both of their hands tangled, and fingers laced together, Castiel had kissed and kissed him, like he couldn't get enough of him. Dean squeezed Castiel's hands, licking Castiel's lips open, swallowing down his gasps.

Eyes that shine, burning red, dreams of you all through my head.

They made it to Oakland before midnight, thanks to Dean's speeding. It wasn't like there were cops around to do their jobs.

Dean had been to California before. Sam had gone to Stanford, so Dean had found a good excuse to drive down a few times a year. That was before he'd ever met Castiel. He'd spent a lot of time on these streets, doing nothing he was particularly proud of. Mostly, he'd taken to drinking excessively, hooking up with the first person that looked his way, and repeating the process.

It wasn't until his relationship with Lisa—his longest relationship at the time, with six months and two days, to be exact—that he'd finally decided to settle down. He'd even considered moving to California, just to be closer to her. The long-distance thing wasn't working for either of them. But just before things got too serious between them, she dropped the bomb that she had a son, a cute five-year old named Ben, whom she had been hiding from Dean for fear of scaring him away. Dean had been twenty-six at the time, and having a kid was nowhere near his radar. Not only that, but the fact that Lisa had hidden something so big from him was a whole other issue. So, he broke it off, and he never saw her again.

Three years later, Dean had met Castiel. And commitment didn't seem like such a scary thing with him.

"Dean, where are you?"

Dean blinked, glancing at Castiel for as long as he could without crashing the Impala. "I was just thinking about commitment."

Castiel turned on the seat, angling his body to face Dean entirely. "Yeah? Are you getting cold feet? I'm afraid it's a little too late for that."

Dean snorted. "You shut your mouth, you're not getting rid of me."

Castiel laughed. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Dean was glad they could joke about this now. A few weeks ago, Dean had to watch every word he said to Castiel, for fear that he'd send him running out the door forever. That had been one of the worst feelings, and he hoped he never had to feel that way again.

More somber, Dean said, "No, I meant, I was thinking about how easy it was to be with you. At the beginning, nothing felt difficult between us. I'm pretty sure I would have married you if you'd had a kid already."

"That's a very odd thing to say, Dean."

Dean chuckled, looked over at Castiel, who was watching him intently. "Yeah, I know. I guess it's because I'm back here after so long, but I was thinking about someone I haven't thought of in years."

"Ah, I see." Castiel smiled when Dean met his eyes. "Lisa?"

"Kinda weird to think about an ex after all these years. Feels like she's a ghost."

"Well, she was important to you, Dean. It's understandable that you remember her."

Dean shook his head. "What are the chances she's still alive? She was a yoga instructor, but I'm sure the angels justified killing her somehow."

"This is why we're doing this, isn't it? To stop the irrational killing of innocent people. That's what we need to focus on. You're going to end this, Dean, and I'm going to help you in any way I can."

Dean didn't want to think of how he would end it. Of everything he had to do—to sacrifice—in order to end the world's destruction. But he put on a brave face for Castiel. "Yeah, we're going to win this thing. We're gonna kick some feathery angel ass."

And part of him really believed it.

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