"There were two reasons

I was so scared

to let people in;

the damage they could do,

and the damage they could find."

Chris Mc Geown

The hours after the fight dragged along painfully slow. The Winchester boys sat around for a while, making small talk, avoiding addressing the situation, before the elephant in the room became so suffocating, they had nothing to say anymore.

Dean would sometimes look at Sam, who clearly wanted to ask him questions. He could see Sam open his mouth just to close it again, as if trying to decide whether to get involved or not. Dean decided for him, he got up and left without saying a word.

He grabbed his duffel bag that hung by the door and mindlessly started making his way over to the Echo zone. It was around noon, so, he figured, the inside training facility would be empty until at least 3 pm when the younger ones would start their afternoon training. It meant he had about two hours to spend alone, just him and the punching bag.

"Thanks, man, I owe you one," Dean patted his fellow hunter on the back, familiarly shuffling the keys to the training center in his hand.

"You owe me about 50 at this point, kid" the man laughed. Clearly amused at his own joke, and Dean thanked him once again and made his way into the pavilion.

The door made an awful screeching sound as he pushed his shoulder against it. Inside, Dean would never get tired of the view - an empty gym, completely equipped, top of the art machinery and shiny new weights lined the foot of the wall. This part of the training center was relatively new, a few months back it had been entirely renovated and it was kept glistening, because it was the little ones' job to clean it, something about teaching them discipline and chores. Hell, Dean thought it was a great idea, but was happy they didn't get to cleaning till after their own training was done.

The punching bags hung in the far back, in the far right corner. This was Dean's favorite thing to do. It's not like he minded lifting weights or doing push up after push up, but this, he actually enjoyed.

Dumping the duffel on the floor, he took out some of his things. He took off his jacket and shirt, to put on a white training tank, and skimmed out of his jeans to get in a pair of comfortable sweats. Then, he took the tape and started wrapping his knuckles, tight, before sliding his hands into the gloves. Bumping his fists together before starting, he took a step back, and then, hand on the bag, pushed it as far as he could.

One punch - Damn this feels good.

In just a few movements he was immersed in the feeling, it was just him and this bag, and all his feelings, all his frustrations, all of it he poured it out right there. He let every emotion melt into one big, angry, arm movement that culminated with his hand hitting the black leather bag. He had to get it all out, the fight with his dad - he punched harder and faster - the sneaking around, lying - faster now, technique flailing - why did Castiel put him in that position, why did he let himself get put in this position ? - his punches were sloppy now, not even letting the bag swing all the way down before sending it back up again - Castiel - just the thought of the name sent shivers down his spine, and in that moment all he felt was anger, nothing else, every emotion wearing the face of red, bright red, anger. - why him? Why did he feel like that? Why couldn't he just leave it alone? Protect the family - as he began to punch, sloppy and carelessly, the bag started hitting him in the arms, his knees giving in a little - protect Sammy.

He hadn't noticed it until now, his vision getting blurry, but stray tears had fallen from his face, his gloves catching a drip here and there, and his mind drifted again, this time not angry anymore, just… empty - Cas - he grabbed the bag, against his body, making it stop and let himself slide down, until he was sitting on the floor, head between his knees, allowing his voice to crack as he let himself cry it out. - how did he get here, how did he find himself torn between his family and anyone else, an angel worst of all. He let his breath even, slowly breathing in and out to calm down. He was torn. He could admit it to himself, at least. This had never happened before- no one had ever made him doubt even for a second, that if it meant protecting his family, he was prepared to give anything away, his happiness would never get in the way of him doing the right thing. This was the first time he felt like he could almost get a glimpse of his own happiness, and now he wasn't so sure.

When he finally let his head hit his pillow, trying to sleep away the day he'd had, something kept him restless. "I'll check in with you" He'd said it to Cas before leaving so hastily. He never did check in. And that thought kept him awake. What would Cas think? That he'd forgotten? Was he waiting for a check-in? He could just picture him now, sitting on the motel bed, staring at a blank wall, just waiting patiently. Or maybe he wasn't doing any of this, at all, maybe Castiel hadn't even thought about Dean since he'd left. Maybe he went on about his angel business and could care less about this one human. That thought stung him more than he cared to admit. It wasn't like the angel had a phone, anyway, not like Dean could just text him. Unless...

This had worked before, so what the hell it was worth a shot.

He wondered for a moment if it was mandatory to get down on his knees and fold his hands but quickly decided that it was just stupid. Instead, he sat down at the edge of his bed, his gaze focused on the trees outside his window, before he closed his eyes tight, letting his neck lower until his forehead met his thumbs, hands over knees.

"Uhm," Dean rolled his eyes inside his lids, great start. "So I don't know how this works, or if this even works, but I figured I would try to talk to you through praying?" It was more a question aimed at himself than Cas, who obviously couldn't answer. "So, here goes nothing" He cleared his throat

"Hey Cas, hope you can hear me" He paused for a moment, opening one eye to check if the angel hadn't casually just popped in, even though that would be impossible with the angel warding on the walls of the city, and probably the house as well. "So, I just wanted to check in with you, like I told you I would." This felt stupid. He should just stop talking - but something inside told him to keep going, if Cas wasn't listening anyway there was no one to think he was ridiculous.

"I'm sorry I left yesterday, I had to -" he paused, thinking of an excuse, because what was he going to say? I'm sorry I left before I couldn't control my thoughts? "- run some errands''. He really needed to start coming up with better excuses. "Anyway, my dad isn't too big on the whole angel thing, as you might have guessed, and he's getting suspicious because I keep disappearing." Dean wasn't sure this was going well. "I mean, I don't think he knows I'm out, hanging with some angel, that's for sure, but now he thinks there's some chick involved and I don't know what else to tell him. Anyhow, I don't know when I'll be able to leave his sight for the next few days, just thought I'd let you know" He opened his eyes again, it didn't make sense but he could almost feel someone watching him "So, this is it. I guess I'm done?" A smile opened up a little, heat rising to his cheeks.

He waited and he looked around again. There was no sign that Castiel might have heard him, but then why would there be? Whether Cas had heard him or not, there was no way that they would meet each other again soon. Dean wanted to deny that he felt empty at the thought of never seeing Castiel again, but he couldn't. Whatever crap bonding had happened between them had royally fucked with his perception of angels. Well, at least his perception of one angel.

Dean shrugged the thoughts away, as best as he could - but lately, he never seemed to quite be able to put angel-related thoughts away, it was always there, in the back of his mind. And nights were the worst - he'd toss and turn before falling asleep, with thoughts of angels and demons, and hunting, but one angel occupied most of his thoughts - Castiel. And then he'd fall asleep and, like in a weird fever dream, images and moments all mangled together. Sometimes it was just a replay of the day's events, other times dream-Dean made things he just wished he could do. And on occasion, he had terrible dreams - where John made him kill Castiel, or John himself would kill Castiel, Sam killing Castiel - whoever it was, Cas always ended up dead, and Dean would always wake up in a panting, sweat ridden panic.

Tonight he just wanted to sleep - no dreams, no nothing.

As he was falling asleep, a thought crossed his mind. For a moment he was worried that someone might have seen them out together, they hadn't been exactly careful when they were prancing around town. If anyone were to mention it to John, he was done for.

Fuck. Dean shot up from the bed, Jo had run into them and he hadn't seen her since. Every curse word under the sun crossed Dean's mind.

There was one thing he knew for certain, he would have to find Jo as soon as possible and make sure she didn't breathe a word of that day to anyone.

Dean checked his watch as he left the house in the morning.

8.45 am

If he was quick, he could still catch Jo before she left the house, and it was good timing too, Ellen had already probably left to go to the Road House.

Dean quickened his pace, half walking, half jogging. He knew she would ask a million questions and he couldn't answer any of them.

When he got to her house, he rang the doorbell twice, letting her know it was him. He waited, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, worrying if she'd already told anyone what she saw.

The door opened to reveal Jo, still in her pajamas, holding a bowl of cereal in her hands.

"Hey Dean" She yawned, "come in".

He followed her gesture inside the house. It was much tidier than his house, but then again, they were women, and in the Winchester household, just three men. And it smelled good too. That's something he'd always loved about Ellen's house - there was always pie.

"Sorry to catch you so early."

"That's fine. I was actually wondering when you'd show up" She snickered

"What do you mean?" Dean looked around for the pie, he could smell it. Was it blueberry?

"You think I don't know you, Dean Winchester?" Jo followed him into the kitchen and took out a plate from the bottom cabinet. "I run into you in town, with a very good looking new boy toy, and now you're here, before training?" She slid him the plate and pulled him a chair.

"What?!" He almost choked on his own spit "There's no new boy toy, wait, there's no old boy toy for that matter, what's wrong with you?" He tried to sound offended and nonchalant, but he was guessing Jo could see he was just full-on blushing.

She opened the oven and took the pie out, placing it in front of him on the table. "Whatever you say Dean-O" she laughed. "So to what do I owe the pleasure then?"

Dean swallowed the piece of pie on his fork before looking at her very seriously. "About that guy, I was with the other day, could you not mention him to my dad, or your mom, or anyone for that matter?"

"You mean the guy with the funny nickname?"

Dean nodded in agreement

"The same guy who was wearing your jacket?" Of course, she had noticed.

"Yeah that's the one, now could we please shut up about him?" Dean took an angry bite out of the pie. If it wasn't so good he'd probably not have this conversation extending so much.

"Why?" The teasing in her voice was clear. "You wanna keep your boy toy a secret?"

"Because I'm asking you to, or rather I'm telling you to Jo. If you decide to tell anyone I will make damn sure you won't see the outside of these walls in a very long time"

"Calm down macho man, I won't tell anyone about your secret lover."

"He is-," Dean felt himself going red. "I don't have a secret lover," His fist slamming down next to his plate.

"Sure," Jo smirked, knowingly.

"Shut up "

There was no way in hell that this hunt was a three-person job. There was no need for the three of them to stick together in this tiny cramped hallway. And there was definitely no fair answer as to why John hadn't let Dean out of his sight for a single second.

This had to be the most straight-forward, run of the mill, haunting he'd ever seen. Old house in the middle of a farm, new family that had moved in. God, this was the start to like every poltergeist movie ever made.

The family that had lived there before was pretty wild. The whole town knew the stories, though some weren't sure if there was any truth to them. An old couple couldn't have children, they'd tried for years and years, and so, when the chance rose to save a little orphan child, they took it. The thing was, with every child also came a big fat state paycheck, and when the Morbeys figured that, children kept coming in, until the old house was looking more like a whole damn orphanage than a home.

The towners looked down on them, and their children - they were always dirty and in dire need of a good scrubbing. None of the money seemed to go to the care of the kids, and they looked absolutely starved. In fact, little to no attention was paid to them by the couple, who, as time went on left them more and more to their own devices and the children began acting like wild, feral animals. They'd fight amongst them, sometimes the injuries were not severe and could be dealt with by Mrs. Morbey, but other times Mr. Morbey had to call a friend to help out - a vet.

One time, though, one of the kids got hurt, badly, and not even the vet could help her. She ended up dying on the property and after that, the state was called and the other kids were taken away. The old couple lived out the rest of their days there, until one day they died, strangely - a murder-suicide they'd called it, but no one could ever prove it.

Now this poor family of four lived in the home, unaware of the horrid history the house held. Until they became the victim of strange occurrences, of course, it didn't take much digging after that to find out what really happened in their home.

"Sam, why don't you check out the bedrooms, and Dean and I will check the attic," John said.

Dean earned a confused look from his brother, who was used to being the one paired with him, Dean just shrugged it off. He knew damn well that his dad was using this hunt as a shitty cover, to keep a closer eye on him.

John motioned for Dean to follow him up the stairs, leaving Sam in the narrow hallway. As they reached the attic Dean could feel the dust start to fill his lungs, clearly no one had been up here in a long time. There was just a single narrow window, but it was blocked off by stacked boxes, making it even harder to see a damn thing. Dean cursed as he walked into what appeared to be some old oil painting, the sharp edge of the frame digging into his shin.

"Watch where you're going, we don't want to disturb anything more than we have to," John said in a low hushed voice.

"Easy to talk, you're the one with the flashlight," Dean muttered softly. Either his dad didn't hear it, or he chose to ignore it.

"The bones?" John asked, turning to his youngest son.

"Salted and burned," Sam replied.

"Good," John nodded. "Dean, why don't you tell the family their home is back to normal again."

"Sure," Dean didn't feel like arguing with his dad again. "You guys can go ahead to the motel, I'm getting a drink after this."

John looked at him, apprehension clear on his face.

"What, I can't get a goddamn drink without a babysitter anymore?"

And whether it was plain tiredness or lack of patience to deal with his son, or just accepting the mystery woman he was supposedly hanging with would not have followed them to this backward ass town Dean didn't know, but John nodded in agreement.

At the bar, Dean could finally relax a little. The game was on, and Sam had decided to tag along. This was good, it felt just like old times.

"Hey, excuse me, sweetheart," Dean tapped the bar with his knuckles. The brunette girl behind the counter approached them with a smile. "Can we get two beers over here?"

"Oh, and some peanuts or something," Sam added "Thanks".

They toasted to an easy case, and talked about sports before the conversation shifted to the city and the usual gossip.

"So, you're telling me that Jo, our Jo, little pigtails Jo-"

"Yes Dean, she's not so little anymore, you know."

"And Luke?" Dean's face twitched, incredulous. He didn't even want to picture it. Sweet little Jo and whatshisname, doing the - he couldn't even finish the thought.

"Yep. There are things going on inside those walls you have no idea" Sam laughed, taking another sip of his beer. He was right, he bet there were some secrets that were better left like so.

"Uh, I was just with her the other day, why wouldn't she tell me?"

"It's not like you tell her much about your stuff either," Sam teased him "Hell, you don't tell me much either these days"

The bartender stood nearby, obviously eavesdropping on the conversation, not even trying to hide it. She eyed Dean up and down and smirked at him, and he was sure she was flirting. He looked at Sam, his face saying it all - oh yeah?

"Hey gorgeous" He called her over, side-eyeing Sam, just to check if his little brother was paying attention. "What do they call you?"

"Sadie," She extended her hand, in a greeting. Dean took her hand and kissed the back of it, eyes never leaving hers. She was rather striking, he thought, her hair was dark and framed her face, falling into her clavicles. Her eyes blue and with dark eyeshadow, contrasting against her pale white skin.

"And your name?"

"Never mind my name, the only name you'll be calling out tonight, is God's" He winked. "What time do you get off?"

Sam looked down to his glass, half-embarrassed by his brother's antics, and half-amused, most likely glad to see Dean act like his normal self again. Sam shook his head, with a smile.

Sadie told Dean she'd get off at midnight, and he told her he'd wait.

Sam took off at around eleven, even though Dean had practically begged him to stay, he told him he was tired. "You didn't really dig any graves tonight, did you?"

Fair enough.

The next hour Dean studied his newest conquest, she kept looking back at him while serving other clients, and then back the clock. They hadn't exchanged any more words, and it felt pretty clear that this would be just a one night stand - she didn't seem bothered by the fact.

When the time came to close the bar, Dean followed her outside.

"So, you live around here?"

The girl nodded, and with a smile gestured to him to follow, as she made her way down the block. Dean promptly did so, just a step or two behind, his hands in his pockets.

"So brooding and mysterious" She turned around sheepishly. Dean couldn't help but let out a small laugh. He really wasn't, it was just he had apparently nothing to say, which was weird in some way. They had come to a stop, and Dean waited as Amber messed with the keys, trying to get one to open the door of the building. It was an okay part of town, and she was gorgeous, and still, Dean felt kind of off.

"Are you gonna get that open or what?" His patience ran thin, and the harshness in his voice startled the poor girl. She quickly got it open, and they went up the stairs in a heavy silence.

When she got her keys out again, in a huge ring of maybe thousands of keys, it seemed, Dean sighed, exasperated once more. Let's get this over with now he thought, grabbing her wrist gently, and turning her toward him, her back against the door. And when she didn't flinch or hesitate, he accepted it as Go sign.

He trailed the back of her body, letting his fingers get tangled in her hair, pulling it slightly, and let his lips hit hers, his teeth sinking into her bottom lip until she let out a small moan. He took her keys with his free hand, and swiftly found the right one, unlocking the door with ease. She stumbled backward inside, clinging unto him, her arms around his neck. Dean took a look around, trying to find somewhere to do it, and the couch happened to be right ahead. He paused for a moment, to take his shirt off, and went ahead and undid his pants as she got undressed, slowly, eyes on his, seductively. He let his gaze explore her body, pleased with what he saw, his mouth agape.

"You like what you see?" She giggled, laying on the couch, waiting for him. Dean nodded as he dropped his jeans on the floor, and joined her on the couch, one leg on the inside of hers and the other steadying him on the ground by the sofa. She moaned, a bit exaggeratedly, when his thigh pressured against her, it wasn't an unpleasant sound, her moaning, but it echoed in his eardrum, and he just wasn't feeling it. He tried to shake the feeling away, focusing on her neck, kissing her from the collarbone, up to her lips - sweet and cherry tasting, delicate.

"What's wrong?" Despite his best efforts to act as if everything was fine, it was obvious in his stance that it wasn't. He took a deep breath, letting his forehead rest on the crook of her neck as he made an effort to work out what was bugging him.

This didn't happen to him, ever, but now it seemed completely hopeless. She was fine, she was just great, but something was just not right.

"I'm sorry, I can't do this," He pleaded, backing away from her. She looked back at him, in absolute shock. The look on her face, and the fact that she was an objectively attractive girl, made him think it was probably the first time this had happened to her. "I'm really sorry" he repeated, taking a hand to his face and just passing it through his hair.

The asphalt felt unwelcoming, freezing the bottom of his jeans where he sat. It was a cold December night, but he couldn't move.

He'd been sitting, on the curb by the motel parking lot, for about an hour now, just sulking about the way his night turned out. He felt sorry, he truly did, for the girl, whatever her name was. He couldn't wrap his brain around what'd happened.

He just had a lot on his mind, that was all, and of course, the booze didn't help. He figured, with his dad constantly on top of him, and the fighting, it was all just too much. His mind went over this reasoning again and again, in a piss poor attempt to convince himself, more than anyone else. This had to be the reason for his pathetic escape, what else was there?

Dean wriggled his fingers nervously. He couldn't get Jo's voice out of his head, he went over their conversation multiple times. Why would she think Cas was anything but a friend, or a fellow hunter? Was it the way they talked? The way they walked? The way Dean looked at him? His mind wandered to thoughts of Castiel, and after a few moments an unsettling feeling set on the low of his back - he was smiling. The simple image of the angel, crossing his mind, had been enough to stir up this familiar, almost intimate warmth that spread through him, flushing his cheeks and heating him all over.

Alone in this godforsaken motel parking lot, he stopped dodging the idea that Castiel made him feel some type of way, it was undeniable. He was strikingly handsome, incredibly powerful, the way he carried himself sent shivers down Dean's spine - that he was absolutely physically enticed by him was nothing new at this point, just something he'd come to terms with in the back of his mind, something he'd let take over in the wee hours of the night, but push down in the light of day, but there was something else, that awkwardness, the innocence of his newness to this world, made him endearing and just so fucking adorable, it was impossible not to be charmed by this literal angel.

Entranced in these thoughts, and under the cover of darkness and solitude, Dean played with the idea that maybe, just maybe, Castiel was messing with him, more than just physically. But that thought was fucked up beyond measure, it would mean denying every truth he knew about angels.

He had to see Castiel again. This need burned through his entire being, this uncontrollable desire to be next to him, disguised as what Dean could only admit was the rational thought that he just needed to do that to convince himself that nothing was going on. If he could just see Cas, he could convince himself there was nothing there, that this was merely a sick joke on his own mind.

And whether it was on purpose, he wasn't sure, but he found himself praying for Castiel to meet him at the lake. He knew his dad wouldn't be home because of another important meeting three days from now, so he would use it to his advantage.

Dean sat on a log, facing the lake. He'd gotten to the place they set up, a little earlier than he'd intended, so it made sense that Castiel was nowhere to be seen.

He felt the cold air breeze of December hitting the back of his neck, right above where his leather jacket ended. He shivered and decided to pull his collar up, to protect him more from the cold. His eyes darted from the lake, to the trees, startled with every little sound, every time expecting it to be the angel, and every time disappointed when it wasn't.

He didn't know why he felt so on edge, it was just Cas. Cas who ate burgers with his entire face, and Cas who got swallowed whole by bubbles - he grinned at the memory - but it was also Castiel, angel of the lord, soldier of the enemy and the secret he carried around for a while now. Another thought popped up, that Dean tried to swat away, like a fly, but to no use - it was also Cas, with the eyes, and the lips, who had stood almost naked across from him, making him back into a sink so hard he still had the bruise to show for it, Cas who, for some reason, made it hard to breathe some times, and Cas, the angel he prayed to at night and met when he fell asleep.

Dean hadn't seen him since the motel when he'd left in a hurry, and he didn't answer his prayer. Maybe it didn't work, maybe he didn't get it. Or maybe Castiel had gotten his message clear as day, but he just simply hadn't cared. He went over the prayer in his head, trying to see if he'd said anything wrong. Obviously pushing to the back of his mind, the considerations that had haunted him a few nights earlier, he focused on the prayer, the honest to god, "amen" and all prayer.

The thoughts invaded his mind, the longer he waited, he felt so stupid, his mind drifted to what Sam would say if he saw him like this, getting stood up, most likely, he would never hear the end of it.

Dean decided to just shake it off, getting up he grabbed the beers he'd brought and gave the place a last look around, in the back of his mind, still hoping the angel would show up any second now. He sighed, feeling perhaps more desolated than he would care to admit.

All of the sudden, interrupting Dean's impromptu pity party, a rustle of feathers made him jerk his head back, just in time to see Castiel appearing out of thin air. He would never get used to this.

A wave of relief washed over him, and a smile took shape on his face.

"Hello Dean," Castiel greeted him, that deep voice of his starting to feel strangely familiar in his ears.

"I was starting to think you'd be a no-show," Dean grinned, fidgeting with the label on one of the beers with his thumb. His eyes drew to them, remembering they were there "Oh, I brought this for you."

Castiel gracefully extended his arm to accept the offer.

"I figured you probably haven't tried beer either," Dean announced, as to explain himself. "And ain't no time like the present, am I right?"

"Thank you, I don't think I've consumed alcohol in a long time." Cas gave him a wide smile, as he looked around for a place to sit. Dean gestured toward the log and the both of them sat down. Castiel watched as Dean flipped the cap off, copying his move, and when Dean took a big gulp, he followed.

"Hey, Cas?" Dean looked at the angel, who appeared unsettled by the taste of the beer "Can I ask you something?"

Cas nodded, trying another sip.

"You're an angel right?" It sounded like a question when it shouldn't, he gave him no time to answer. "Aren't you supposed to have you know, wings and whatnot? Isn't that the whole package deal, fluffy wings, and halos?"

"That's your question?" Castiel appeared slightly amused.

"What?" Dean ignored the heat coming up in his cheeks. "A guy can't wonder about lore accuracy?"

While Castiel seemed taken aback for a second a smile quickly appeared on his face. Dean would never admit to anyone that it made his heart seem to do a backflip every time the angel expressed any sign of happiness.

"We do have wings, you humans just don't see them."

"Wait, how does that even work?"

Castiel seemed to be thinking about something judging by the way small lines seemed to crease his forehead. Every second Dean spent with him he thought of the angel as a bit more human.

"I can show you?" Castiel didn't sound confident in his decision.

"I mean if it doesn't get you in too much trouble."

"Maybe," that slight grin again "But I want to show you."

Dean smiled at the angel in front of him. He wasn't all evil and malicious as they made angels out to be. In fact, Dean would even go as far as to call him quite adorable, he would immediately have to kill anyone who heard him say that though.

"You might want to sit back a little," Castiel still looked a bit nervous.

Dean scooted backward on the log he was sitting on. He wasn't exactly sure what to expect.

But it sure as hell wasn't anywhere near what he was seeing in front of him.

He was absolutely taken aback, as Castiel's wings were definitely bigger than he expected, it was a good thing he told Dean to move, and still, Dean had to move even further away to take it all in. He couldn't believe his eyes, there he was, Cas, looking as small as he ever saw him, in the middle of those wings - Dean figured it was a wingspan of at least eleven feet.

His wings were pitch black against the moonlit sky, but at the same time, they seemed to radiate as every individual feather seemed to reflect the colors of the lake, as if they were made out of tiny rainbows - Dean thought they looked exactly like the color of asphalt after it rains. It used to amaze him how black could turn into so many colors, until Sam had to ruin it and explain how the light refracted and scienced his amazement away. But this so much more magnificent, he felt as if he was looking at something he wasn't supposed to, like the beauty of these wings was something he'd have to keep forever, just his. It almost felt divine, and in a way, he guessed it kind of was.

It wasn't until Castiel shifted uncomfortably that Dean realized he was staring. Full-on mouth wide open staring in awe at his wings.

"They're beautiful," Dean said before he could stop himself. He quickly directed his gaze upon the lake, but he was sure he saw a slight blush on Castiel's face.

"Thank you," the angel shuffled on his feet and Dean could see the wings disappear again from the corner of his eye, in a rustle that he knew all too well, but was seeing for the first time.

He kept his eyes on the lake and watched as his own breath became visible in the cold night sky.

"Can I ask you something?" Castiel said, breaking their silence.

Dean finally turned back to the angel, who had sat down on the other end of the log.

"Shoot"

He didn't know why he let himself relax again in Castiel's company, or why he kept letting his guard down. But at the same time, there was no hostility in the air between them, there was nothing but kindness and respect for each other and it made Dean uneasy, because this wasn't something he was used to, he'd never felt so drawn to anyone, and yet, so weary of the consequences.

"Your necklace, what is it?" Castiel's eyes dropped down from Dean's face to his chest, where the brass pendant dangled from the black cord around Dean's neck.

Dean's hand reached out to touch it, a small smile creeping up on his face at the memory of an 8-year-old Sam giving it to him on Christmas morning all those years ago.

"It's a human superstition thing, it's basically a good luck charm, supposed to ward off evil and sickness and all that stuff." Dean let out a laugh, "can't say it's done me much good in that department, but my little brother gave it to me." He didn't know why he mentioned Sam again near the angel, he really shouldn't.

"The one I healed in the alley," Castiel's eyes found his. "You care a lot about him," it wasn't a question.

"Yeah, of course I do, someone has to look out for the kid." Dean cleared his throat, talking about his family with Cas didn't sit well with him, it went against his every instinct, and he could still hear John's voice, clean as a whistle.

"So, what about your amulet? Is it the real deal?" Changing the subject was safer.

Castiel looked uncomfortable, Dean could tell by the way his eyes slightly narrowed, thinking to himself that the fact that he could tell was a sign that they'd been spending too much time together. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, he still wasn't sure.

They both turned to the lake, watching as the moonlight reflected on the quiet water.

"It's customary for an angel to own an amulet, it has to do with our grace," Cas seemed to catch himself before sharing too much information because his mouth turned into a thin life before he spoke again. "We don't acquire them in Heaven, though, it's not created with us."

Cas coughed and looked up at the sky, clearly eager to change the subject - this seemed like a common practice between them, which didn't bode well.

"It's a beautiful sky tonight," Cas commented as he looked up.

"Yeah, I guess so," Dean followed his gaze. There were barely any clouds above them and even though it was cold outside the stars were clearly visible in the midnight sky.

"You can really see all the constellations from here" Cas smiled, still looking up.

"The what now?" Dean looked at him, feeling a bit stupid for asking. He didn't want Cas to think he was dim or anything, but this felt more like the kind of thing Sam would know, and he wasn't like that, not book smart like Sam. He should've just nodded along, he thought, trying to hide his embarrassment. But if Cas noticed, he didn't make note of it.

"The constellations, they're sets of stars, that resemble some design. There are millions of them, and they all have a name" Castiel explained innocently.

"And you can see them? Right now?" Dean asked, a bit incredulous, as he looked up at the stars. They were beautiful, no doubt about it, but they just seemed so randomly placed to him.

"It's easy, if you know where to find them," Cas smiled. "Here, you can see the Ursa Major- it's Latin for what you may find referred to as the greater bear, " he pointed to a group of stars above them.

Dean followed the direction, squinting his eyes in an attempt to see the so-called 'greater bear'. There were so many little burning dots above them, but none of them resembled any kind of animal in his opinion.

"How in the world is that supposed to be a bear, Cas?" Dean laughed.

Castiel turned to look at him, there was an expression on his face that Dean couldn't quite place, but then it was quickly replaced by a smile.

"You are looking Dean, but you're not seeing." The angel's voice was soft and tender, the words felt like criticism, but the way he said it didn't. "This is the problem, with you humans, you lack perspective" He chuckled lightly, "lay down".

Dean felt confused at the order for a moment, still not used to them, but he followed Cas' lead as he turned on the log, and lay his back against the wood. Dean mimicked him, laying down, his head slightly brushed against Castiel's, their feet hanging from their respective ends of the log that was clearly too short for both men to lay completely.

Dean opened his eyes and looked back up at the sky, following along Cas' arm, and then his hand and his finger, all pointing stretched out towards the constellation - there it was, he could see it now.

"Oh, wow" It was incredible, and Dean couldn't understand how he'd failed to see it at first, it was clear as day. "What else is up there?" He sat back up, and Cas looked amused, like watching a kid that couldn't stand still, and sat back up with him.

"Well," Cas pointed over Dean's shoulder, "look", he whispered. "That there is the Cassiopeia," he traced the invisible lines between the stars, and Dean tried to follow along, trying to focus on really seeing the design, but it was really hard to concentrate with Cas so close to him. It was actually damn near impossible because it felt as if his entire body was itching to lean into Cas. He could feel his breath ghost over his neck, sending shivers down his spine. Every muscle in his body tensed up as he resisted the urge to just shift a little closer, to feel the warmth of Cas's body against his, in the cold.

Cas stared at the sky, still moving his finger around, like was painting the stars himself. "You see it?" he asked, not looking away from the starry night. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"It is," Dean answered, almost in a whisper, but he wasn't talking about the sky. In fact, he'd given up on watching the stars, and instead focused on the way Cas' eyes shimmered, even in the dark, when talking about his little stars. They were so blue, and seemed to reflect the light cast by the moon. The lines that surrounded them made him think of the angel's age, and even though he looked no older than Dean, while he knew Cas was thousands of years old - and in this moment, he felt almost honored to be here, sharing this moment with him.

Castiel babbled on, oblivious to Dean's gaze and his captivation. The way Cas explained every detail to him, and told him about the constellations and the greek heroes that named them, and sometimes Dean would make some sort of sound in agreement, just to let him know he was paying attention - he could listen to Cas talk about the stars all night.

"Gabriel," Castiel greeted his brother. The wooden floor of a boat churned beneath his feet with the current. That Gabriel always insisted on meeting in remote locations he could understand, but why they had to be so arbitrary he didn't know.

"If it isn't my favorite brother."

"Please, you say that about everyone" Castiel rolled his eyes, still trying to figure out where exactly they were. Water surrounded their long rowboat, a few miles ahead he could see the emerald green water slowly chiseling out a rocky cliff by crashing against it. "Where are we?"

"Good morning, Vietnam!" Gabriel screamed at the top of his lungs, playfully. "You've never been?"

"Not in a few hundred years." Looking around, taking in the beauty of it. If there was one thing his brother knew how to do, was live his life. He had always been a little different from the other angels, always the odd one out. And Cas had always envied the way he could do it - spend months at a time down on earth, mingle with humans in a way that wasn't approved, and find these gems - these places God had designed, every tree, every rock was meant to be right where it was. That was the thing with angels, most of them anyway - they didn't stop to admire the beauty down here. Nature, humans, animals… they all had their place on God's green earth.

"You know what I'm asking of you Castiel," Gabriel started, his tone now somber and telling. For all of his persona, it was easy to forget he was an archangel, one of the first four angels created by God, and even though he'd always renounced any sort of power, they ought to owe him more respect. "It's time to choose sides."

What Gabriel asked of him went against his every instinct - he was talking about rebelling. Of course he would follow Michael, he had followed him for the better part of a thousand years, but now, when Heaven's allegiances seemed to shift, and Metatron rose as a new leader, who was he to disobey? He was merely a soldier of Heaven, created to follow orders and never think for himself.

For thousands of years he'd had no problem doing whatever was necessary, unpreoccupied with moral values and choices - that was never his job, his job was to do whatever he was expected to, he was a soldier in a war, a puppet on strings, heaven's personal gun, fired in a direction and he'd shoot. He fought for Heaven whatever that might've meant. And now, Heaven was divided, angels having to make decisions they weren't prepared to make, taking action into their hands, this was all headed down a dangerous path.

"You know as well as I do, brother, that Metatron has no interest in freeing Michael. His aim is to start a never-ending war with humans. By proving to his followers that humans are merciless and will cross every boundary that has ever been set by Heaven." Gabriel continued, looking him in the eyes, almost, Cas thought, as if trying to see into him.

This was a whole other situation. The humans.

Castiel had been there for the first human civilizations, the greeks, the Romans, the Phoenicians, and the Mayans, and if ever was a time when he felt close to these creatures, it was now. He'd spent some time roaming among them, he'd tried their ways and customs, and he'd liked the way it felt to be among them. With every second he passed on earth, more emotions and feelings seemed to develop. It made it harder to think clearly, like a soldier, again.

He tried to see the grand scheme of things, he tried to see humans as a whole again, as either something to protect or something to crush, but a problem itched in the back of his mind - a problem named Dean Winchester. Every time he thought about humankind, he couldn't help but make it all about one man.

"Are you prepared to see the entirety of humans turned into Metatron's slaves?" Gabriel continued, inadvertently making his point and Castiel wasn't ready for it. He couldn't let that happen, he wouldn't, not if he could do something about it.

"What do you need me to do?"

Castiel wasn't sure about any of this, all he knew was that he trusted Gabriel, and he trusted Michael. And he desperately needed to protect humans from heaven's politics, all of them, humans didn't deserve to die for this - it isn't what God would've wanted - at least it's what he told himself, to justify all he was about to do, ultimately he knew in the bottom of his being, this desire to save humanity came from the desire to protect one man.

"We are going to free Michael from the city," Gabriel said with determination. "And your new pet human is going to help us."

Dean tossed and turned, not wanting to open his eyes just yet. He could feel the soft pillow underneath his head and the blanket on top of him was doing a nice job at keeping him warm. For a second he relished in the warmth of the bed- until his brain processed it. His eyes shot open and he sat up, it took him a second to realize where he was. He was in the cabin, he was in the same cabin, the same cabin where he had spent many nights getting away from life at home. The problem was, however, that he didn't remember getting there in the slightest.

He let his body fall back down and glanced around the room - no one.

The thought made its way into Dean's mind, at first, timidly, just an idea of the angel, taking him here. And then, more vividly, preoccupying with everything that entailed - he'd fallen asleep, that was for sure, back at the lake, and Castiel had to have carried him here, how else?

And this wasn't the first time, either. Castiel had carried him back to this exact spot, when he got jumped by the werewolves, and even though Dean had never given the process much thought, he now realized this had to have taken time - healing Dean, and watching him. He didn't know why Castiel had done any of this, why he kept showing up, why Dean had piqued his interest, not that he was complaining. The idea of the angel watching over him reminded him of something his mother used to tell him when he was little, way before angels turned out to be assholes "Angels are watching over you".

Dean was used to being alone, it had never really bothered him, but as of recently, he felt lonely. He'd never felt so distant from his brother, from whom he'd never kept secrets before, and even his dad, with all his anger issues, had always been company Dean was glad to keep. But now, every second with them felt like something might slip, and every second spent alone, gave way to this empty, hollow feeling inside, and a longing for someone to be there, talking with him, and day after day, the someone he felt was missing, was beginning to be always the same one.

It was times like these he wished he could go to his mother for advice.

Notes:

Thank you for reading chapter 8, as always I hope you enjoyed! Please leave your thoughts in the comments, I love reading them. A huge shoutout to the most amazing beta I could ask for, aka Fred, my amazing friend and talented writer! And again check out wantstoflyafraidtofall on Tumblr for more of their amazing art.

Notes:

The idea for this fic has been sitting in my head for five long years now. I never wrote it because I didn't know where I wanted the story to go and then I kind of stopped writing altogether. However, the main idea for the story never left my head and when I started watching Supernatural again I couldn't help but give it my best shot. So bear with me as I dust off my writing 'skills' and try my best to share this story with you. I can only hope you'll like it but please let me know in the comments!