He hasn't done this since high school.

'Course, back then it was the roof of the cabin. Back then it was a can of beer and a nudie magazine he'd ripped off from a store in town. Back when there was a store in town. Maybe if he'd stolen a little less there still would be.

Maybe a lot of things would be different.

Sitting on the roof of the trailer with a half bottle of whisky in his hand, he's watching the lights on the road a long way off. The occasional flash of white as the cars pass the garage.

He remembers taking things from that store all the time – porn, obviously, but also the cough medicine their Dad wouldn't buy, because he didn't trust the pharmaceutical companies, and anyway, they didn't have any money. The moon pies and oreos on Sam's birthday. His first pack of condoms. That box of soap powder so their clothes would stop smelling like rain water and the woods.

He misses Sam more than ever, a physical blow to his chest. How can they have gotten to this? To barely speaking?

Of course he knows, knows it was getting bad before Dad died, but that final moment, when Sam came out. When John turned to him after, when they were alone...that was the moment they started to split apart.

And now...now Cas was going to be the last thing that came between them. After this there wouldn't be a bond to break.

He's not going to tell Sam. Not the truth. But Dean'll know, and that'll be enough. He never wanted to be the person to take something from Sam. And now he has. Again.

He tries to remember when things were easy, when he was a kid with a Mom and Dad, when he lived in a house, ate kids cereal and played with the prizes, when he got tucked in at night. How did he get from that, all the way to this? How had he become this guy?

Taking a gulp from the whisky bottle, he turned his eyes back to the road and saw lights heading out his way. He heard the sound of a familiar engine, his heart almost stopping as he strained his ears to be certain.

Watching in the dark, he waited for the truck to pull into the yard and stop. The dogs, who'd been watching their master sitting up on the roof, wondering what was going on, smelt someone familiar and bolted for the truck, whuffing and leaping as Castiel climbed down, the light from the porch making him look very white.

Dean watched as he climbed up onto the porch and knocked on the door. He waited and eventually Castiel knocked again and called, 'Dean, are you there?'

Still he didn't say anything, couldn't. What the hell was he doing back? He'd thought he was never going to see the guy again, and he was back only a handful of hours later.

Castiel appeared in the yard again, looking back at the road.

"Fuck," he whispered, sitting down on the bottom step of the porch. Bobby came up and thumped his heavy tail against the dirt. Castiel ruffled his ears.

"I'm up here."

Castiel jumped and stood up, whirling around to look up at him.

"Were you hiding?" he says incredulously.

"No," Dean twists so he can see Castiel better, "I was up here and then you turned up. I thought you'd left something here."

Castiel frowns. "I have all my things."

"So why're you back?"

Castiel rolled his shoulders, hunching a little. Dean watched him closely, what was Castiel doing in his yard? After what they'd done, there wasn't anything to say. It was all over, for Cas and Sam, for Dean and his brother. Everything was fucked up enough already.

"I'm embarrassed," Castiel said, finally.

"Because you got lost like a clueless townie?"

Castiel sighed. "About everything. That's just who I am. I was embarrassed when I was at college, because I was the youngest guy there, and I didn't leave my room for the first three months. I lived on dried noodles that I made in my bathroom – I ended up being treated for scurvy."

Dean snorts. "That is classic."

Castiel ignores him, and in fact appears to be on something of a roll. "I was too embarrassed to talk to guys, I dated a classmate for two weeks before I could tell her I was gay – I had to do it by email. I never sat near her again. I get embarrassed when I have to order in restaurants, I can't call my own repair guy – and I haven't had sex in four years because I'm too embarrassed to be naked in front of someone else."

Dean blinks. "What? Seriously?"

Castiel nods.

"What was different four years ago?"

Castiel looks down for a second and mumbles.

"What?"

"I said," he takes a deep breath, "I was high."

Dean drops his bottle, and it slides over the curve at the edge of the trailer and breaks on the ground.

"You were high?"

Castiel nods, looking humiliated. "I was...experimenting. My brother recommended it, and I found that it did lower my inhibitions substantially."

"So what was the problem?"

"Smoking up also lowered my standards, my work ethic and my standards of personal presentation."

"Is that code for, 'I was kind of slut wearing a tie-dye t-shirt?'"

Castiel shifted from foot to foot. "It had a Buddha on it."

Dean can't help it, he laughs, it's a quick, sharp bark, but his chest feels like it's going to burst, and he laughs again, and pretty soon he's clinging on to the trailer for dear life, sucking down hair and feeling his belly start to ache.

He slides down over the edge of the trailer and lands on the ground easily. Castiel just looks at him.

"Dean..."

"That, is priceless. You, smoking pot? I love it," he grins, remembering better times, when he was in college. He hadn't done it much, just at parties, but man, those had been some interesting parties.

"Dean...I,"

"Let me guess, you never told Sam? I mean, he doesn't even think you drink, let alone..." he feels his smile die on his face. Sam. Fuck. He tucks his hands into his back pockets. "What're you doing here Cas?"

Castiel looks as if he is asking himself that exact question, and as if he'd like nothing more than to run off into the distance.

"I was awake, this morning." He swallows and takes a breath, letting it leave in a long, soft rush. "I let you...I wanted you, to..."

It's as if the bottom has dropped out of everything, and the sense is draining away. Castiel shifts in front of his eyes, from the creature known as 'Sam's Boyfriend' into 'Guy He Remembers Finger Fucking'. It's right there in front of him, the memory of that morning, and he can see that Castiel is thinking of it too.

"That was a mistake." Dean says, holding up a hand pushing at air.

"Dean...I get embarrassed all the time, but I am leaving for New York tomorrow, and I will never be coming back here. So, I spent the drive here, thinking about whether it would be worth, not asking you, if it meant I'd be embarrassed...and I think, nothing is worth sitting on that plane – wondering."

Dean lets his hand drop. Fuck. Fucking, Fuckety Fuck. This is happening. This is Castiel...Cas wants to...

"Ask me what?"

Castiel swallows, his eyes meeting Dean's, then skating away, then returning.

"I am asking you..." he glances to the trailer door, "will you take me inside?"

Two things hit him at once, a wave of skin tingling want that makes him suck in a breath of night air, and the thought that somewhere Sam is packing his bags to come and see his boyfriend, who is standing right across from him, asking Dean to fuck him.

He curls his hands into fists, like he can hold back the urge to touch, to feel.

"Sam," he says.

"I know." Castiel looks hopeless. "I know just...I'm a terrible person for even asking you, but, just say you want to."

He manages a nod.

Castiel sags in relief. "OK...then, I'll just...go."

He turns around, and he's walking back to the truck, putting his hand on the door, his other hand taking the keys from his pocket.

"Cas, wait," I catches up with him, stops him with a hand on his elbow. "You can't...I am not a guy you should be thinking about. I'm a bad guy OK, you were right about me. I'm white trash, I'm immature, and I have a crappy job, two, crappy jobs..." he tightens his hold, "I've been lying to Sam since our Dad died, and I have...I've hurt him, because I didn't want to tell him the truth."

And Dean remembers, like it's happening in some room in his head right at that minute, the day Sam walked out of the hospital, the day he said he would never, ever trust him again. Because how could he tell him that at the last moment, Dad had looked at him, and told him to tell Sam he was proud of him?

And still, Dean couldn't find the right words to say, 'Dad, me too. I'm into guys, and girls, and...I never told you, I was too scared.'

And then he was dead. And he was proud of Sam.

He's kept that from Sam for years.

"He told me, he was proud, of Sam, before he died." Dean says, "and I still couldn't tell him about me. So he died not knowing. And he'd be ashamed of me, if he knew. And if he knew I never told Sam? He'd probably tell me to get out, and never come back."

Castiel's hand comes up to grip his shoulder, and Dean wants to push him away, because Cas is still looking at him like he's worth it, like he's worth any of this.

"This thing between me and Sam? All the fighting and the time apart? That's me. I did this." He shakes his head, "and tomorrow, I am going to tell him. I am gonna tell him about you, and me and...I'm gonna tell him about Dad."

"What happened with me wasn't your fault," Castiel says softly, "you don't have to tell him that...the rest...yes. Tell him. Tell him your Dad was proud of him, because he deserves to know, and tell him that you like men – be honest with him. He deserves that, and so do you."

"I'm a terrible person," Dean says, and he knows it's true, and that Castiel sees it now, every disgusting truth he's tried to bury out here in his little life.

"I meet terrible people all the time," Castiel says, running his hand from Dean's shoulder to rub the back of his neck. "You're not one of them, you're just scared, you were embarrassed, and scared...and I'm like that all the time." He pulls back and takes a step backwards towards the trailer, holding his hand out, "Now, it's late, and we both need some sleep."

"We're not going to...I can't,"

"No we're not," Castiel agrees, "but I'm not leaving you, not tonight."