I like this chapter. It has a few episode references to various parts of Supernatural that I was glad I could fit in. Thanks to everyone who reviewed and was supportive of the last chapter – you're all amazing and I love you! I hope you enjoy this chapter too. Please review so that I know what you think, and feel free to give constructive criticism if you don't like what I'm doing. All your comments are really appreciated!

P.S. Not long now until season 9 starts... who's excited? I know I am!

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of the characters, I'm just a fangirl impatiently counting down to the start of season 9...

A huge, huge thank-you to my beta rdmnss for putting up with me and always doing an amazing job beta'ing this fic.

Castiel moved the paintbrush lightly over the canvas with a mournful expression, allowing his emotions to flow into the art. It was rare that he just let his creativity flow like this, with no real goal for the piece, but it was the only way for him to express what he was feeling right now. Six days. It had been six days since he had even spoken to Dean, and Castiel felt like it was the end of the world. He should never have allowed himself to get into this mess. Before he had started his 'relationship' with Dean, his life had been simple, unemotional, uncomplicated by the mysteries of other humans. But then Dean had come along. Sweet, handsome Dean, who took his hand and showed him how truly amazing being with other people could be. Castiel had been in Heaven. He should have known that it could never last. Someone like him just wasn't cut out to be in a relationship with someone like Dean.

A single tear running down his cheek, Castiel sat back and looked at the masterpiece he had created. A mass of storm clouds, resplendent in black, grey and purple, encircled a pair of figures in the centre of the piece. One stood tall and proud, enormous wings made of shadows darker than night sprouting from his shoulders. Dean – the angel in Castiel's turbulent life. The other was crouched, shirtless, his face turned away, defeated by the other's majesty. Castiel didn't normally paint himself, but he couldn't deny that that was who the figure represented. He had tried to fly alongside the angels and ended up broken and bloody. What an excellent metaphor for his life right now.

Turning away from the image before he broke down entirely, Castiel quickly rinsed off his paintbrushes and packed away his art stuff before collapsing onto his bed. He didn't want to move anywhere else today. He had barely even attended classes at the Academy for a week – Jess had commented after just a couple of days of Dean not emailing that he looked peaky, and Castiel had taken the opportunity to claim he was unwell and take some time off. Previously he had never had a day off in his life – Dean truly had corrupted him.

At that moment, Castiel realised that he had just collapsed onto his bed with his boots on, spreading mud over the bottom of his bed. He groaned. He didn't even remember putting on boots, it wasn't like he had needed to go outside today, and now he was going to have to wash his bed linen. So much for staying inside and moping for another day. With tremendous effort, Castiel swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Quickly pulling off the duvet cover and bedsheets, he chucked everything else back on the bed before balling up the fabric and carrying it out into the sitting area. Stuffing it all into a large carrier bag, Castiel grabbed his keys and wallet before marching irritably to the flat door and yanking it open – and almost tripping over his next door neighbour who was walking past.

"Oof! I am very sorry Miss Mason; I was not looking where I was going."

The sixteen year old raised her plucked, blonde eyebrows, a slightly incredulous expression on her face.

"Right... by the way, your coat's on inside out."

She walked over to her own door and seamlessly let herself inside, while Castiel stood there awkwardly. She was right – his coat really was on inside out. He hadn't noticed. Sighing to himself, he shrugged off the coat before pulling it back on the right way and shutting the door and picking up the carrier bag. He really needed to pull himself together.

Five minutes down the road, Castiel was reminded how useful it was that Dean had a car. Mundane little trips like this, just to a launderette or somewhere similar, were so much easier when you could call someone else to drive you there. Gritting his teeth, Castiel hoisted the bag more securely in his hands and tried not to think about Dean. He didn't need to torture himself any more about this.

Finally reaching the launderette, Castiel shoved the door open with one hand and quickly made his way over to a free washing machine. As fast as he could, he stuffed all the linen into the machine, added the necessary soap powder and selected a random mode (he had never really got the hang of what they meant). It was only after he had straightened up and prepared himself for the wait that he realised who he was standing next to.

"Cas?"

"Dean?"

Dean's eyes were shining. "Frick, Cas buddy, I've missed you so much!" He moved to hug Castiel, but suddenly something inside Castiel broke and all the frustration inside him broke out.

"DEAN WINCHESTER, HOW DARE YOU IGNORE ME FOR A WEEK AND THEN SPEAK TO ME AS IF EVERYTHING IS FINE!" He shoved Dean backwards into the nearest washing machine and grabbed his shirt collar.

"Cas, I'm sorry..."

"DO NOT TRY AND APOLOGISE DEAN!" Castiel was towering over Dean, even though he was usually a couple of inches smaller. Dean was actually cowering at the expression on Castiel's face.

"What do you want me to say? Cas, I was an idiot, I didn't mean to hurt you..."

"WELL YOU DID!" Castiel glared down at Dean. "I GAVE UP EVERYTHING FOR YOU DEAN. I CHANGED MY ENTIRE LIFE FOR YOU. AND WHAT DO YOU DO TO ME? YOU IGNORE ME, WITH NO EXPLANATION AND THEN ACT AS THOUGH YOU HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING WRONG! I AM NOT JUST A TOY THAT YOU CAN PICK UP WHEN YOU FEEL LIKE IT DEAN."

A small crowd had gathered around the arguing pair, but neither of them noticed.

"Cas, baby, I really am sorry. I was stupid. I thought that you were ignoring me, that you didn't want to talk to me..."

That stopped Castiel short.

Confused, he let go of Dean's shirt and stepped back, allowing Dean to straighten up from where he had been cowering. His face was ashen pale, and as he smoothed out the wrinkles in his shirt Castiel noticed that his hands were shaking.

"You thought I didn't want to talk to you?" Castiel asked incredulously.

Dean shrugged helplessly. "I didn't know! I mean, one minute we were gettin' on fine, and then I thought I screwed up, and I panicked, and you didn't email so I thought you didn't want to talk anymore, and so I just didn't talk either. Sammy kept goin' on at me for it 'cause I was gettin' distracted at college thinkin' of you, but I didn't want to say anythin' in case you didn't want to talk to me."

Castiel lilted his head to one side.

"Why wouldn't I want to talk to you? Dean, you're everything to me."

There was a sudden 'aww', and both Castiel and Dean looked around to see a small crowd of onlookers clustered around observing what was happening.

Castiel instantly felt his face feat up red, as Dean called out,

"Quit staring, nosy buggers! This has nothin' to do with you!"

The crowd slowly dissipated, and Castiel tried to hide his embarrassment by staring at his washing machine, watching the bedlinen he had put in spin round and round.

Suddenly, he felt a pair of strong arms wrap around him from behind, and he was engulfed by the smell of diesel and leather that always surrounded Dean.

"You're everythin' to me too, you know." Dean murmured in his ear. "Well, except Sammy, but then he's different. Never underestimate how important you are."

A small smile crept its way over Castiel's face.

Gently, Dean turned Castiel around before pressing their lips together in the smallest of movements. Castiel sighed, before slowly returning the kiss, wrapping his own arms around Dean. They stayed that way, just staring into each other's eyes, until a tap on Castiel's arm brought him back into reality.

"Sir, your washing has finished, so if you wouldn't mind, I would advise that you, ahem, go elsewhere."

Castiel blinked, before his eyes widened and he hurriedly stepped away from Dean, yanking open his washing machine and pulling damp clothes back into his carrier bag.

"My apologies. My friend and I will be leaving now."

Dean raised an eyebrow, pulling his own washing out of a washing machine. "Are you askin' me to come home with you, Cas?"

An expression came over Castiel's face that could only be called a smirk.

"Of course, Dean. I do not have a car, and why would I walk all the way home when you could just give me a lift?"

"Are you suggestin' that you're only datin' me because of my car?"

"Well, it's a definite advantage." Castiel paused. "That and your excellent kissing ability. I rather appreciate that part as well."

Dean grinned. "Well, if we can get out of here I can put that ability to good use, eh?"

Castiel smiled. "I would like that."

Still grinning, Dean slipped his hand into Castiel's free one and led the way out of the shop.

It was then that Castiel realised what Dean really was to him. He wasn't an angel that Castiel had tried to fly with and fallen. He was the angel who had gripped Castiel and raised him from perdition – and was now carrying him so that he would never fall again.

So they're both together and happy again. The issue of intimacy has yet to be addressed, so you have that to look forward to in a future chapter... I expect that the next chapter will be the exhibition (or possibly the run up to it, in which case it will be from Cas's POV again because I want the actual exhibition bit to be from Dean's). Do you guys have a preference? If so, let me know in a review!