Chapter 2

Gabriel

Gabriel, the only one of them immune to Pestilence's affects, was watching in amusement as Dean and Sam argued over who got to shower first as he played absently with the horseman's ring. Each was covered in blood they'd coughed up and looked fairly nasty, so each had an equal claim to the shower, it seemed.

Dean, while desperate to wash away any leftover taint of the horseman, thought Cas should go first. Sam just wanted to get the sticky mucus off of his skin and trying to convince Dean that Cas was the one who needed to shower least of all because he was the closest to being immune after Gabriel. And Cas was trying to insist that Dean go first, because…well everyone but Dean knew why, really. But he was drowned out by the bickering brothers, and eventually the former seraph came to settle by the archangel, sighing wearily.

"They really wear ya out, huh?" Gabriel asked, directing a wicked grin at his younger brother. Cas just nodded and watched the Winchesters argue. After a few moments, he turned to Gabriel with a small frown.

"Can you not just use your grace to clean them and end this nonsense, Gabriel?" he asked, eyes narrowing slightly when the archangel grinned wickedly at him.

"Okay okay, caught me. I just wanted to see how long it would take them to figure it out," he told Cas with a snicker. At the younger angel's disapproving frown, he raised his hands in surrender and snapped his fingers, and in a blink of an eye they were all in pristine condition, not a speck of dirt, blood, or grime to be found on them.

Neither hunter seemed to notice and continued squabbling, although they seemed to have drifted slightly from who got to shower. They were talking over each other, so neither Gabriel or Castiel could clearly hear what was going on, but both caught the words "Lucifer" and something about dreams, and Dean very distinctly yelled over Sam, "Because it's bad idea, Sam!" which was quickly rebuffed by Sam's "You're not the boss of me, Dean!"

The longer they let this go on, the more sure Gabriel was that someone was going to throw a punch soon if there wasn't an intervention. With barely a thought and a smidge of grace, both Winchesters and Castiel had their hands over their ears as Gabriel was yelling into a megaphone.

"Alrighty, boys, that's enough," he bellowed, earning scowls from all three of his companions. Grinning unrepentantly, he lowered the megaphone. "Hey, someone had to do something and Cassy wasn't stepping up to plate, so I took it into my own hands."

Cas sent a grimace at Gabriel for the nickname, and Dean was still glaring at Sam, but the younger hunter seemed relieved to just be clean. He took one look at his livid brother and mumbled that he was going to get a separate room.

"Four's a crowd, so I'll get my own room and you guys can just…do whatever," he told them as he grabbed his bag, avoiding all eye contact. Gabriel felt his eyes narrowing, and he could sense Castiel's concern and Dean's worry underneath his irritation.

"I'll go with you, Samsquatch," Gabriel said as casually as he could, ignoring the looks of relief and suspicion from Cas and Dean, focusing his steady gaze on the hazel eyes that snapped to his as soon as he spoke. Honey-gold narrowed in determination, hazel softened in resignation, and Gabriel knew that he had won. With a slightly triumphant grin, he waved cheerily to the others and trekked out to the lobby with the gargantuan, whistling cheerily at his side.

Dean

Now alone in their room, Dean turned to Cas, unsurprised to find those blue eyes already watching him. Those damn blue eyes were always watching him, and Dean could swear that there was a question in his eyes, but he didn't know what Cas was asking…didn't know what he wanted. They'd known each other for almost a year and a half now, and the guy was still a mystery to him. All that staring, though, was almost enough to have him crawling up the wall.

"Well…" He said, looking away quickly and running a hand through his hair. Out of the corner of his eye he just caught the familiar head tilt and he barely resisted looking to see the quizzical look he knew would be in those oceanic depths. "I guess we should sleep," he said, grabbing his sleep clothes out of the duffel and making a beeline for the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

Once he was safely locked away—Safe from what? From Cas? As if Cas would ever hurt you, idiot, he thought scornfully to himself—he leaned against the door and closed his eyes, listening quietly to the sounds of Cas rustling and moving around on the other side, presumably getting ready for bed himself. He was probably as tired as Dean after helping Gabriel cut off Pestilence's ring. The idea of Cas in bed had Dean feeling uncomfortably warm and…no, not going there. Cas was his best friend, that was all.

Dean shoved all those thoughts roughly aside, glaring at his reflection in the mirror before looking away as he began to change quickly. He was careful to avoid looking at the handprint scar on his bicep, not wanting any reminder of the ex-angel in the other room. After quickly brushing his teeth and splashing water on his face, Dean steeled himself and unlocked the door, going back to the other room only to have Cas breeze by him—Dean almost froze when he felt Cas' warm chest brush against his—and slip into the bathroom himself. Dean puffed out an exhale as he heard the sink running and sank onto the bed nearest the door where he'd set his bag, wondering what the hell was wrong with him. He was Dean freaking Winchester, he didn't fall apart over some guy.

Cas isn't just 'some guy', his traitorous mind whispered to him.

"Shut up," he growled under his breath, and then immediately wanted to bite his tongue. Talking to yourself is one of the first signs of madness, Winchester, he thought derisively. And then he realized he was still talking to himself and thought he might be more tired than he realized. He got off the bed to pull back the covers, then flopped down with a groan, closing his eyes, hoping that for once he would just sleep.

The sound of the bathroom door opening had him going tense, but he didn't open his eyes. There was a soft shuffle of feet, and then the room got dark—Dean could tell even with his eyes closed that Cas had turned off the lights—and then another shuffle of feet, before the creak of the bed next to Dean's and the rustle of the bedspread, probably Cas snuggling up.

The only sound now was their quiet breathing.

Dean was grateful that Cas hadn't tried to talk. He was probably as tired as Dean was, so it was hardly surprising he'd hit the hay. Then again, Cas always seemed to know what Dean needed and was always willing to give it—no matter what it cost him, Dean thought with a wince. Cas…Cas was good to him, Dean knew that. Better than he deserved, really. Always had been.

He'd been…different lately, though. Not bad different, exactly, just…different. Dean couldn't help but notice an increase in the staring, how Cas always sat a bit too close when they were anywhere that allowed it. Or how the angel seemed eager to find any excuse to be in Dean's company.

It was freaking weird. Sometimes it almost had Dean wondering…

Dean stopped that thought cold. He was a soul that Castiel had rescued from Hell on God's command—the Righteous Man, Michael's intended vessel. And yeah, he and Cas were friends. Good friends, but just that. Friends.

Even hoping for anything else would be too painful. Dean lost everyone—if he let himself care for Cas that much…and he lost Cas…it would break him, he knew it would. There would be no coming back from that.

And there's the issue, Dean thought to himself wearily, listening to Cas' quiet breathing across the room. You're afraid of your feelings because you're afraid to lose him. You're a moron.

The fear was undeniable, though. Nobody was safe. Even caring for Sam was a risk—Dean had lost his soul because he couldn't bear the idea of life without Sam, he couldn't. Now just the idea of losing Cas was almost as excruciating.

When had this little angel wormed his way so deep inside of Dean? And how could Dean get him out?

Dean had no frigging clue, and he hated that. But it was late, and he was tired—there was nothing to be done for it now. Dean closed his eyes, and allowed himself to drift off into sleep.

Castiel

As soon as Dean's breathing deepened, Castiel rolled onto his side and cracked an eyelid open to peer at the hunter. His depleted grace allowed him to still see better than the average human could in the dark, so he had no trouble making out his features. Even in sleep he was tense—nightmares, Castiel knew. He didn't know what Dean dreamed of that frightened him so, but he could guess. He had been around once or twice when the man had screamed himself awake, and Castiel hated feeling so helpless.

It was his fault that he couldn't protect Dean from his subconscious anymore.

When he had been a full-fledged angel, his intact grace had been able to shield Dean from the worst of his memories while he slept so that the few hours he got were peaceful, even pleasant ones. Now, Castiel could barely function himself, and he could do almost nothing for Dean.

He hated being so powerless.

He watched Dean sleep—even though he knew Dean thought it was 'stalker-ish' and creepy—ready to wake him the instant he showed any sign of distress. The longer the hunter was out, though, the more he relaxed, and it looked as though he was actually going to have pleasant dreams for once. The thought made Castiel smile, because Dean deserved a few good hours' sleep if he could get it.

Sleep actually sounded very nice. His body had healed itself of the plagues Pestilence had set upon them, but that had been more taxing for his energy than he'd wanted to let on, and he knew that if he slept his limited grace would replenish itself faster. So he snuggled into the bed, rubbing his face against the pillow until he found a comfortable position, and listened to Dean's quiet, even breathing as he waited for sleep to overtake him.

Nothing disturbed them until morning. Their wake-up was not nearly as pleasant as their sleep. According to Dean, anyways.

Castiel had no qualms about waking up in a queen-size bed curled up in Dean's arms. The pink and glitter was a bit garish, but he was being held by his favorite hunter so he couldn't possibly complain.

Dean didn't see it that way.

Dean

Everything was different when he woke up.

The first thing he noticed was the warm presence in bed with him. It took a few moments to remember that he'd gone to bed alone, and then he sat up abruptly to find Cas looking at him in confusion. His rumpled sex-hair bedhead did nothing to assuage Dean's discomfort.

"What the hell is this?" Dean spat, getting hastily out of the bed to glare at it.

"I believe it is a bed, Dean," the former angel murmured around a yawn, stretching. He didn't seem bothered in the least, damn it. Why did he have to be so…so…unfazable? It wasn't freaking fair. Dean would be a stammering, blushing idiot and Cas just took it all in stride without ever batting an eye.

"I know that, Cas," he griped, glaring at the glitter on his clothes. Great—he'd be finding it everywhere for months now. "What I meant is, what the hell is it doing here? How did this—" He flapped a hand at the whole arrangement they had been in when he'd awoken—Cas had been snuggled in his arms, his hair tickling Dean's chin [no, Dean did not blush at the memory—not a bit]— "—happen?"

"I think it is safe to assume that Gabriel is behind this. It is the sort of antic he would pull," Cas said, aiming a soothing smile at Dean that had the hunter's stomach churning with anxiety and—and—

Desire. Yes, damn it, that's what that warm feeling was. Dean looked down, scowling.

"Well tell him to knock it off," Dean mumbled, grabbing a change of clothes and stalking to the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind him. He heard a soft sigh on the other side, and felt a tiny twinge of guilt. He didn't mean to be a dick to Cas—Lord knows the last thing Dean wanted to do was hurt the guy—but he couldn't deal with this kind of thing with no warning at 8 a.m., damn it. This…was not okay.

Gabriel would have hell to pay for this, Dean promised himself as he prepared to face the day and all the crap waiting for him outside the safety of these four walls.

[A/N: Wow this chapter gave me a lot of issues, and I really don't like the ending or most of the way I did it at all. I just really wanted to update…I haven't had a lot of free time lately—AP Testing, ugh—and whenever I did I just wasn't in the mood to write for this fic because of some personal crap I've been working through that's had me pretty down. I've had a serious lack of inspiration for this middle bit and I just…ugh. Things got kinda sucky and I've been in a funk. But, hey, I'm back with a new chapter!]

[I also have a different fic I've posted, feel free to check that out if you wish. It's called Ghost, and that's all I'm gonna say.]

[Regarding the rest of this fic, I gotta say that the ending has already written itself out in my end, and some of y'all—probably most actually—are going to hate me for what I'm going to do with this fic. Just…you'll see…yeah. Sorry in advance. Oh and if you're wondering what went on with Sam and Gabe in their motel room, anyone who leaves a review can get a PM of a one-shot that I'm going to write about it—it's quite a bit longer than this chapter because it was easier to write. So there's your incentive for a review, heh. Until next update, guys!]

—Makky