Cas found himself in his favorite part of Heaven, the beautiful Tuesday afternoon of an autistic man, who drowned in the bathtub at age 40. 'How? How did they know that sigil? It's not in any lorebooks. We took care that it didn't get in.' He started going through the scene in his head, bit by bit. Mostly to find if there were any clues as to how the brothers had gotten their hands on the knowledge of the bloodsigil, but also to revisit every look on Dean's face. He couldn't resist. That sarcastic curl to his mouth had made Cas almost moan out loud, and he really wanted to go back and kiss those pink lips until Dean remembered him, and their time in Limbo. It already seemed so long ago. Cas felt his heart ache for those stolen moments as he watched the autistic man fly his kite, not really seeing him. Cas remembered every moment with Dean, relishing in the sweet bond they built in Limbo. He remembered Dean just after he had crawled out of his grave, how he had ducked from the noise Cas' real voice made to his fragile ears. How he had inspected himself in the mirror. For some reason Cas couldn't let go of the image of him lifting up his shirt to see if he had any other marks on him. It made Cas want to go back and do unspeakably human things to Dean. Like kiss that sexy chest... 'Whoa! Castiël! What are you thinking? Have you lost your senses?' Yet, Cas couldn't help wanting to go back, make Dean remember everything, so they could do such things. He remembered the last kiss they shared in Limbo, how it had been so much more than a kiss. It was almost an invitation to do those things. It had made Cas feel such a need to put his hands under Dean's shirt and... Cas halted his thoughts again. 'This is not helping, Cas. Get your... Hang on... Cas... Sam called me Cas... Is that a human thing to do? Shorten one's name like that? I must find out!' He spread his black wings and flew back to Earth, to find answers. First stop: the Winchesters. He'd stay invisible and just listen for a bit.
Dean sat on his motelbed, beer in hand. "Ya know, Sam, I really don't like angels. And I really wanna know what they meant by "she is far from innocent." That dick Uriël was way too happy to end her. Calling her worse than demons..." Sam sat on his own bed and pulled his slender fingers through his hair. "Yeah, me too. What bothers me most is the way Cas said she has to die... So casual, heartless." Dean felt his own heart squeeze together at the mention of the blue eyed angel. It also reminded him of something. "Why did you call him Cas?" Sam looked surprised. "You do." He thought about that. "Yeah, not to his face... I'm not sure angels appreciate having their name shortened." Sam looked a bit shocked. "Then why do you do it?" Dean shrugged. "I don't know, really. It just seems to suit him." Sam raised an eyebrow. "Really? Huh... Well, I'm just glad he either didn't notice, or didn't care. I'm turning in. Night!" He kicked off his boots and crawled under the sheets. Dean watched him, pondering his last remark on the angel's name. 'Why do I do it? I just never think of him as Castiël. He's Cas.' As if bidden by the thought of his name, the image of the blue eyed angel popped up in Dean's mind. Dean lay back on his bed, letting those moments with the angel pass through his head. His thoughts kept going to that one moment, with the rising of Samhain, that Cas had stepped into his personal space. His oceanblue eyes looking deep into his own, those pink lips mere inches from his. He still felt that if he had just leaned in, kissed him, Cas would have kissed him back. The thought disturbingly wasn't as repulsive as Dean thought it would be. He found his thoughts wandering, going to places he never thought he would go. Like how it would be to kiss Cas, put his hands under that trenchcoat and shuck it off, kissing that slender neck... Dean abruplty stopped his thinking. 'Geez Dean! What, you're gay now?' He huffed and resolutely turned on his side to sleep. In his dreams he kissed Cas, holding him desperately, as if he would disappear when he'd let him go. Cas kissed him back just as desperately.
Cas watched as Dean popped his beer and sat down on his bed. He didn't like the pondering look in those green eyes. Not sure if he should read Dean's mind, Cas hovered at the door. Dean looked at his brother. "Ya know, Sam, I really don't like angels." Cas felt as if his heart was ripped out, yet he thought he deserved it. His remarks had been cruel and uncaring, and to a certain degree uncalled for. He heard his name, and woke from his reverie. "Why did you call him Cas?" Cas felt his heart skip as Dean said it. 'He used his name for me! Does that mean...' Hope filled Cas. "You do." "Yeah, not to his face... I'm not sure angels appreciate having their name shortened." Cas smiled. Dean had pretty good instincts. Most angels wouldn't, but then again, most angels didn't fall in love. "Then why do you do it?" Sam worded the burning question for Cas, and Cas was aching to hear the answer to it. "I don't know, really. It just seems to suit him." Cas felt crestfallen. Dean didn't remember... But some vestige of those memories was there... Otherwise Dean wouldn't think it suited Cas. He had to think that! Detatched, Cas watched Sam crawl into bed. He looked at Dean, silently wondering what Dean was thinking now. The discussion about his name had quenched all reserves on eavesdropping in his thoughts, and Cas tuned in to Dean's thought frequency. Cas heard Dean's thoughts in the gruff voice of Dean. 'Why do I do it? I just never think of him as Castiël. He's Cas.' An image floated up. Cas recognised it. It was him, very close up. Dean's thoughts rang out again. 'Why is this moment so hot? I really, really wanted to kiss him. All I had to do was lean in... He might have kissed me back. It sure looked like he would kiss me back. God, how deranged am I, thinking about kissing an angel... And what an angel. He just looks adorable, with that ruffled dark hair... Those cute, pink lips. I bet they taste great... And whenever he says a word starting with an 'h', the righthand corner turns up, ever so slightly. I'd kiss that corner. And then put my hands under that silly trenchcoat, see if he is lanky, or muscular. I think a bit of both. He looks in shape... Wonder what it would be like to shuck that coat off, see him in just his dress shirt. Open a button or two. His tie is loose enough. I could kiss his neck. I'd love to kiss that neck...' The thoughts halted abruplty. An abashed anger flooded Dean's awareness. Cas felt like he was spying, but the thoughts were so close to his own, that he couldn't stop. The anger surprised him though. The next thought snapped, like a cornered animal. 'Geez Dean! What, you're gay now?' The wandering thoughts were decidedly pushed down, and Dean didn't allow them out again. 'Sleep, Winchester. Tomorrow you're picking up Pamela. You'll need your wits about you, with that flirt!' A fond feeling rose with that thought. Cas was surprised. 'He likes this Pamela.' Drowsy thoughts started forming, and sleep overtook Dean. Cas smiled fondly. He looked so cute with his long lashes painting cresents on his freckles cheeks. A naughty thought popped up in Cas' head. He could dreamwalk in his love's sleep. His judgement clouded by his feelings after those arousing thoughts he'd heard, Cas gave in. He found Dean standing in that dingy motelroom, looking around. "Dean..." he called out. Relief poured off Dean in waves. "Cas..." Dean crossed the room in two strides and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Don't leave, Cas, please." His plea was desperate, and it hit Cas right in the heart. "Never, love. Never." Dean let out a strangled noise and pulled him into a kiss, holding him tightly, scared he might vanish. Cas clung on just as desperately, knowing this would end as soon as Dean woke up.