Angel Heart

"There's something you gotta know," Dean said to Claire. "Your dad's sacrifice was not meaningless. Yeah, he gave up his body, his... his vessel. And because he did that, Cas... Cas was able to save the world. The world. Your father's a hero. He did not die in vain." He barely heard Claire's soft sigh. Man, he really needed to get a handle on thinking about Cas like this.

It's over. Cas' arms coming around him. Dean, it's over. Weird, how he's so much gentler when trying to stop me from killing my brother than he was when we had sex. It's over. And somehow, with those words, Cas' with heartbeat against his back, the black had faded from his eyes. Cas had saved him, and not for the first time.

You'd kill the angel, Castiel. Now, that one... that I suspect would hurt something awful. Cain, taunting him.

I thought there might be a connection. One extremely messed up human to another. Cas, trying so hard to do right by Claire. And being far too accurate in his choise of words.

Knife me. Smite me. Throw me into the freakin' sun, whatever. And don't let Sam get in the way, because he'll try. I can't go down that road again, man. I can't be that thing again. Making Cas swear because Cas was the only one he could trust to go through with it.

How are you, Dean? Cas, forgetting that they had much bigger problems.

I ain't exactly a role model, he'd said. That's not true. Cas had told him with a smile. Dumbass.

Hey, maybe you should um... take some time before you get back to work. Allow yourself to heal. It's, uh... I don't know. The timing might be right. Heaven and Hell-they seem reasonably back in order. It's quiet out there. That quiet moment in his room, tinged with some unknowable emotion. Maybe it was peace.

What was he doing? Oh, yeah, miniature golf. Right.

The Prisoner

Somewhere along the line, he finally answered it. The Question. After months of silence, the answer hit him out of the blue.

Fuck.

I love you.

Castiel grabbed his shoulder and twisted him around. "No! You're not good. Maybe you could fight the Mark for years. Maybe centuries, like Cain did. But you cannot fight it forever. And when you finally turn, and you will turn... Sam, and everyone you know, everyone you love... they could be long dead. Everyone except me. I'm the one who will have to watch you murder the world. So if there's even a small chance that we can save you, I won't let you walk out of this room."

Cas' words catapulted him forward a hundred years in the future. Sam would be gone. Cas would be all he had left. Maybe they'd stick together. Hell, in that long of a hard life, maybe the truth would even get dragged outta him. Maybe he'd just break down and tell Cas, Look, man, I love you. Like Colette had helped Cain. But Cas was right - eventually, he would turn. He'd kill the angel. Slow, sweet, looking into his eyes. "Oh, you think you have a choice." That wasn't gonna happen. He'd never let it go that far. But Sam and Cas, they couldn't save him either. Poor stupid bastards for trying. The only way was to get as far away from them as possible. Cas could never find out. God knows what would happen then.

"I think the Mark is changing you," Cas said baldly.

"You're wrong." I've always been this messed up, angel.

"Am I? Because the Dean Winchester I know would never have murderered that kid." Cas' face was twisting in anger. Maybe a hint of pain.

"Yeah well, that Dean's always been kind of a dick." He moved to leave. Just let me go. You'll never see me again. You can go and watch the bees.

Cas stopped him, though. "Dean, I don't want to have to hurt you." Stupid sonofabitch.

"I don't think that's gonna be a problem." If I'm gonna hurt you, it might as well be now. Not two hundred years down the line.

Dean wrenched Cas' offending hand off his shoulder, drawing his other fist back and punching Cas hard. He pummeled the angel until he was coughing up blood, and Dean didn't want to stop. This is what happens to the people I love. Punch. Don't you dare look for me. A kick in the stomach. You never should have dragged me outta the Pit. He grabbed Castiel by the tie. Dean held the angel blade he'd snatched from Cas' jacket high above his head. "No. Dean. Please." All the time he'd been slamming Cas down, hurting him til he couldn't breathe, Cas had just kept on saying his name. Dean. No. Dean. Please.

The blade sunk deep into a book on the table. He couldn't. Not after everything. "You and Sam stay the hell away from me. Next time I won't miss." He could feel Cas' eyes on his back as he walked out the door.

The realization that he loved Castiel didn't make him happy. It make him kind of sick inside, like he wanted to rip his heart out and bang his head against a wall at the same time. He didn't know why. All the reasons he should hate himself, why he should feel like crying, they were wrong. It wasn't how Cas was an angel, or his best friend, or how brokedown and dirty Dean felt. It wasn't even that he felt bad about beating Cas within an inch of his life. Cas probably didn't understand love, anyways. It wasn't how many times they'd fought just to breathe, or died to save the world. Not all the times Cas had been brought back to him, like a frowning miracle in a trench coat. This was how it had to end, how it would end. Castiel could go back to watching the world from a distance, exploring the forests maybe, helping people in some small way. Sam would find some other chick and a dog, live the apple pie life. Dean would find the darkest corner of the world and there he'd devote himself to, well, not destroying everything, again. Maybe that twisting feeling in his gut had something to do with the goddamn bright blue eyes that watched him as he walked away. Maybe there was something in those eyes he couldn't stand to see.

Brother's Keeper

When he decided to kill Death, he was thinking of Sam. He wanted to think that maybe, it could be two brothers against the world again. That they could save people. Make a difference. Maybe, Dean Winchester, could make up all of his crap to the world and to his family.

When he decided to give life a second (or two hundredth) shot, he was thinking of Cas. The mark had this... effect on him. When he wasn't killing or maiming someone's grandma or guzzling alcohol, he was, for lack of a better word, going insane. His thoughts flew all over the place. His vision fogged out and when he tried to sleep, he only dreamt in memories. Sometimes it was dark. Real dark. He'd dreamt of Purgatory more times than he cared to count. But sometimes... sometimes in the course of everything spiralling out of control, a crazy, happy idea would come to him. It felt kind of like that time he got stoned with that hippy chick who turned out to be a witch. But that was his second solo hunt, and another story.

Is there a snowball's chance in hell he loves me?

That's right. In the middle of becoming a mass murderer who had a life long prohibition on chick flick moments, Dean Winchester was wondering if the angel in the trenchcoat loved him. He swallowed hard. Was that why it had been so hard to walk away from Cas? Knowing that if there was a goddamn chance the angel loved him, Cas wouldn't be able to just sit back and forget? That Cas would search the earth for him? Dean thought about it. Really thought about it.

It's just the mark fucking with my head.

That was all this idea was, too. He was going insane. But truth be told, he liked the idea. He liked the idea of kissing Cas, slow and deep. He liked the idea of those forbidden three words falling off of Cas' lips. In a momentary wild high, he liked the idea of living again, and he liked that snowball's chance.