Heading to Bobby's to get some help made Dean feel – normal. As if they were suddenly on some typical hunting trip and Bobby could help them crack the case with one of his dusty old tomes.
Other than that, Dean couldn't get over the nagging feeling that something was wrong. They hadn't spoken to Bobby for days, and he wasn't returning Dean's several phone calls. Dean kept making them, as if each one somehow inched him closer to Bobby answering the phone on the other end.
Dean even called a neighbor of Bobby's and he reported back that Bobby wasn't answering his door and his car was gone.
"He could have headed to the mountains," Castiel said. "I did send him a dream telling him to go to a mountain range in Washington State. It's possible that where he is at, his cell phone does not get a signal."
Dean drove to Bobby's house anyway, since South Dakota was on the way to Washington. At Bobby's property, the salvage yard with rusted skeletons of cars reminded Dean of that movie, Terminator 2. The scene when everything had been nuked and nothing was left on the freeway but the charred shells of cars. Dean shook his head to remove the image from his mind. Lucifer may want death and destruction, but in the end, he was going to have to settle for a DVD about killer robots from the future and a bowl of popcorn. Dean sniggered a little from his inner joke.
They used their copy of Bobby's house key to get in when Bobby didn't answer the door. Dean and Sam scoured the house from basement to attic, with Castiel at Dean's side constantly because he didn't want anything to happen to the former angel. When Castiel proclaimed he needed to use the bathroom, Dean insisted on checking behind the shower curtain and inside the towel closet before he would let Castiel do his business in private. Dean felt he needed to be on guard for all possibilities – something nasty could have taken Bobby straight from his house – and then driven off in Bobby's car – okay, not likely.
But better safe than sorry. Castiel's new vulnerability of being mortal stood out to Dean as something he had to protect. Castiel's humanness was like a fragile egg he was trying to transport back to his grace. If he wasn't careful, Castiel could get broken (killed) and then it would be too late.
They all decided to spend the night at Bobby's, knowing Bobby wouldn't mind if they were there. Maybe they would get lucky and Bobby would drop in, after some hunting trip.
Dean was still concerned that Castiel wouldn't sleep well if he was stuck on the couch or the floor. Bobby owned a two story house, but the one extra bedroom upstairs was used to hold Bobby's growing library of books on spells and rituals. Sam convinced Dean and Castiel to take Bobby's bed. Sam convinced Dean that if Bobby showed up in the night, Sam would warn Bobby that his bed was already occupied.
They climbed into bed and faced one another. Bobby's bed was old, and very creaky. Every little movement they made to get into bed had a soundtrack. Castiel met Dean's gaze for a moment, and then looked down. He appeared to be tracing the corner of Dean's pillow with his eyes.
"What's wrong, Cas?" Dean asked.
"I'm still feeling lost, Dean. Despite what Sister Clarisse told me, I feel like a hollow shell. Empty of what I truly am. Except…"
"Except what?" Dean asked.
"My…feelings for you…they are still here. It is like I can hold onto them, consider them part of my identity that I have not lost."
Dean cleared his throat, embarrassed. Here were those "feelings" Castiel had brought up before – Dean felt a combination of curiosity and yearning to hear more, and also a conflicting emotion of wanting to avoid the whole subject.
"Yeah?" Oh geez, this was heading straight to a chick-flick moment, but Dean wasn't putting the brakes on it like he normally would. Hadn't the nun said to go ahead with what you felt rather than what you were thinking? His thinking was saying stop this awkward moment before it was scene in a sissy movie. His feelings were saying, this is your chance to find out more. He wanted to find out more. He liked the feeling that was fluttering in his heart, and was certain whatever Castiel had to say would increase it.
Castiel was silent, but met Dean's gaze again. Castiel's eyes were gently probing Dean's, a look of total acceptance, of wanting to connect.
"Dude, are you going to tell me what you are thinking?" Dean said.
"Dean, as an angel, we normally don't feel strong feelings of affection…"
Dean's heart leapt at the mention of strong feelings of affection.
"But I developed them for you. I…care for you, deeply."
Dean smiled a little. But what, he wondered, should he say in response?
"You taking care of me so kindly seems to have brought on a new level of caring and appreciation on my part that I did not know was possible. Yet, it has also brought on…" Castiel stopped abruptly.
"Brought on what, Cas?" He said it rather impatiently, and then regretted it. Just because Dean was eager to hear more didn't mean Castiel was obligated to pour out his heart just now.
Castiel's eyes flickered with warmth and seemed to stroke Dean from within. As if he could actually reach in and touch Dean's heart with them.
"Not sure this is what you want to hear, Dean," Castiel said. "But I long for more from you, more than ever now. In the past, as an angel, I could enjoy my feelings for you like a fine wine I kept on the shelf and drank from occasionally. Now, with my angelhood gone, I feel such a loss, and combined with increased feelings of affection, I feel as if I need something from you – not exactly sure what it is – but I do know, I long to touch you…"
Dean reached out and touched Castiel's angelic face, letting his emotions guide him – he traced the side of it and lingered down to the dark stubble surrounding Castiel's lips. He felt the scratchiness for a moment, and then moved down to the cushiony lips. "I want to touch you too," he admitted softly.
And then Dean took charge, like the man that he was. He slid closer to Castiel, their gazes still locked and electrifying the intensity of the feelings that were unfolding inside Dean. He enveloped Castiel in his arms, and encouraged Castiel to wrap his arms around him. It felt so good, so delicious to be this close to Castiel, it surprised him, and felt as if Castiel's feelings of affection for him were washing over him like tidewater. He never wanted it to stop.
His erection that had come alive with these recent events was also reminding him of how good it felt to finally lie in Castiel's arms, but Dean didn't want to take advantage of the former angel like that. Not now, anyway. Would he want to later? Right now the thought was still a little too odd for him. But he did lean in for the kiss that felt like the fulfillment they both needed right now.
He kissed Castiel gently, slowly, so that Castiel could follow Dean's lead and get a hang of it. Castiel's kisses back were the most beautiful, innocent, feather-like touches Dean had ever felt, and Dean increased the tempo a little to see if Castiel could follow. He was surprised at how brushing his lips against Castiel's masculine stubble was strangely sensual and erotic. He had to resist the urge to stick out his tongue and lick the scratchiness surrounding those lips. Instead, he kissed the outer parts of Castiel's lips, letting the stubble tickle his own lips. He also probed his tongue just barely into Castiel's mouth as he kissed – a little lick that eventually was met by a practicing lick from Castiel, and soft tongue met soft tongue in the midst of kisses that were getting harder, longer and deeper.
Damn, Dean was forgetting there was an apocalypse to stop. Dean gripped the sides of Castiel's arms as the kissed and rubbed them affectionately, rubbed his back, rubbed his hair and his scalp. Castiel was also hungrily touching Dean all around his body – at least the 'safe' places, nothing below the belt. It felt like a song at its crescendo when Castiel's hand lay gently stroking the side of Dean's face and his hair. It was hard to believe at that moment Castiel had lost his angelhood because Dean was certain only a divine being could make him feel like this - like all the love in the world was included in that touch. Dean had stopped kissing for a moment – he was overwhelmed and practically in another place with how beautiful it felt. Only Castiel's hungry new kisses brought Dean back to reality. And it was still a very GOOD reality.
They lay close together like that, in the dark, kissing and touching and holding each other, until Dean said they better get some sleep, because if Castiel would have had trouble sleeping on Bobby's stiff old couch, he certainly would have trouble sleeping if they were making out all night.
Castiel was content to lay his head against Dean's chest and try to fall asleep. Dean ducked his forehead so their heads would be touching, he wanted that connection as he fell to sleep.
Later, a noise became a voice, and then a face – Dean realized he was waking up from sleeping – and the familiarity became complete recognition when he saw Bobby was in the room, talking to him.
It took a few moments for Dean's brain to register that this was a good thing – Bobby had been missing. It took a few more moments for his brain to register that Bobby was witnessing Castiel wrapped up against Dean in an embraced that hadn't let up while they slept.
So much for Sam standing guard, Dean thought. He was as embarrassed as hell, but didn't regret having been in Castiel's arms at all. It was a weird combination.