Author's Note: Thanks to my lovely readers.. especially anyone that takes the time to comment. It does wonders for my confidence and ambition. Also there will occasionally be a snippet from Castiel's POV. I might eventually go back and have a companion fic with scenes from his POV or missing scenes with him but for now this is it.

Castiel stands in the shadows against a nearby house watching her. He should not be here. Besides the obvious reasons, it only makes it worse but he has to check and make sure she's okay. Like he does everyday. Humans are so fragile.

She's getting out of a car, laughing at something the male says. He comes around to take her hand. He seems to share her home now. They're about to walk up the stairs to their bungalow two bedroom house. It has lots of earthy tones. Variations of browns, greens, deep reds.. Castiel noticed an abundance of pictures with flowers, too. Frames with sunflower prints, daisies, a painting of red poppy fields.. He imagines it would make the inside seem like one big garden. Not that he would ever be inside to know.

Suddenly, the woman stops and whips her long red hair around to face his direction. She can't see him, he reasons. If he flinches, the movement will give him away. Castiel wills himself still, not a feather twitching and watches her search the darkness. It almost feels like they're staring at each other. He takes in her face, the new lines and matured mouth. It's almost the same, though she seems to smile more now. Easier.

Finally, the male tugs her hand until she frowns but lets him pull her along up to their porch. As Castiel grips the hilt of his Angelblade tight to ground him, he hears Dean's gruff voice. Before he can smile in relief, he processes the words of his prayer. "Don't come."

He sighs and air puffs out in front of him. If only he could go back to not wanting anything.. away from this place. Let the Earth spin on without him. He looks at his bare bicep with a pinched brow. It's tempting.

But now there was Dean. He had been a guilty pleasure. Something he'd allowed himself to indulge in that was just his. To watch from afar as a symbol of humanity. Then he'd fallen that night and Castiel had been lost. He found that he couldn't just observe anymore.

He stokes the skin on his arm, imagining what it would look like with Gabriel's cuff.

What was he to a human boy like Dean? Dean would grow to a man and find a compatible human, possibly have his own family. There was no place for him there, no matter how much he argued internally over it. Even now, every visit felt like a battle. He had to fight for every step forward.. he should really just leave him be. But when Dean looked at him with that quirk of his lips and bright green eyes.. he knew he'd still come back for more. Until Dean wouldn't have him.

"I'm sorry," Dean prays now. Castiel waits, but there's nothing else.

He breathes out through his nose and points his face to the sky. Pushing off the ground, he flies straight up, faster than he should. So fast, his eyes tear and his back muscles ache after only a few minutes.

Maybe he would spend some time away from here and all its pain and confusion and desires.

Humanity.. it was the source of every sorrow he'd ever known.

Dean finally fell asleep sometime in the night. When he wakes up to loud knocking on his door he still feels exhausted.

"Get dressed and be downstairs in five minutes." His dad's voice booms from the other side and dread washes through him all over again.

He throws on the first thing his hands touch in his dresser drawer and shuffles downstairs, each step seeming too loud. He felt like he'd been in a protective bubble behind his locked bedroom door. Now he was exposed and vulnerable.

His dad is waiting at the bottom with his jacket on. He looks up when Dean reaches the last step.

"Dad, I -"

"We're going out." He tosses Dean his jacket and opens the door.

"John." His mom walks slowly from the kitchen. Dean glances her way then back at his dad.

"Now." He says, leaving the door open and Dean walks through it like a prisoner on the way to the gallows.

His dad hangs back to talk to his mom for a few minutes while he leans his back against the Impala. Staring up at the sky, he watches a hawk circle and feels a pain behind his sternum. He straightens when the front door is slammed and his dad stomps towards him.

"Get in."

They drive but Dean doesn't pay attention to where they're going. He just breathes in and out, like his life hinges on what his dad says next. It's awful being constantly tense waiting for anything but he keeps silent. Zoning out, he imagines all the possible scenarios for how this talk will go and eventually looks up to see they are pulling into what seems a random dirt road until after another turn, it's very apparent where they're going. The car pulls off and they get out.. roughly where his dad had taken him to shoot the first time forever ago.

Dean waits by the car door while his dad messes around in the trunk. For an insane moment, he envisions his dad shooting and burying him out here in the middle of nowhere. He jumps when the trunk slams and his dad walks past him without a word. John sets up targets along the dilapidated fence like he did before but this time they're all cans, half the size of the gallon tomato one from last time that he hadn't been able hit.

Dean looks at the targets and then at his dad when he comes to stand next to him.

"I can't.."

"Can't what?" John turns to him with unyielding eyes.

"I can't hit any of those. They're too far. Too small."

"You can and you will." He's handed a full box of shells. "Now start."

Dean loads the clip carefully and slides it home. Glancing one last time at his father, he brings up his arm and tries to remember his dad's instruction from last time. Breathing out, he aims. He fires. He misses.

"Again."

He aims, he fires.. he hits absolutely nothing. On and on, he continues to line up and breathe out slowly and not so much as graze one. He manages to hit the fence they're sitting on a few times but that's it. It's not even satisfying with his dad staring ahead and occasionally sipping from his flask. He goes through the whole clip before he drops his arm and says, "Dad, I'm not gonna hit anything that far away."

"We're not leavin' till you do."

Dean reloads, biting the inside of his cheek. After burning through another clip, he reloads without being told. Why were they here? Was this some kind of punishment? Was his dad waiting for him to break down.. because he be damned if he would now.

He stubbornly keeps firing though his fingers are stiff from gripping tightly and blisters are forming but he forces his face blank. While making his way through the fourth clip, his dad starts talking again.

"I don't wanna know who he is or where he came from... I just want you to say it's over."

Dean's quiet. Clenching his jaw, he fires another shot. "I don't want to ever see him again, Dean."

He focuses on the tomato can like his life depends on it so it's something other than his dad's words.

"Dean."

His dad is waiting for something but he ignores everything else for a moment as he breathes out and… Hits one! It leaks red fluid out of a small hole he can barely see. He blows out a disbelieving breath.

John turns to look at it for a few moments before reaching into his pocket and grabbing another box of shells.

"Do it again."

He suppresses the protest he was about to make before it can leave his mouth and pops the clip to reload. If this was some kind of manly man test.. he wasn't going to act like some weak bitch. He could be fucking strong and he wasn't going to cry uncle or whatever the hell his dad expected.

Two hours later and his dad finally says enough. Dean lowers his arm and pries the gun out of his bent shaky fingers. It takes all of his will not to drop to his knees and clutch his arm. His shoulder aches and his fingers feel like they're on fire.

He slowly curls and uncurls them after his dad takes the gun and stumbles behind him back to the car. He'd hit two other cans and he didn't give in. Small victories that made the walk back a little easier on his tired body.

When he gets in the car, his dad reaches into the glove compartment to find a tube of Neosporin and a roll of gauze to give to him. He doesn't start the car but just watches Dean dab it on where his skin is rubbed raw. When he fumbles while wrapping the bandaging with his other hand, his dad takes it from him and efficiently ties it off.

Dean takes his hand back and turns to look out the window away from his father.

"Son.."

He fixes his eyes on a tree outside and decides not to take his focus off it no matter what his dad yells at him. After a few seconds, the car starts and they drive the back without another word.

When they get home, Dean immediately goes up to his room and falls on his bed. His dad didn't stop him. He's only been up maybe four hours and he already wants to pass out again. Lying on his belly, he almost drifts off when the door opens. Dean quickly moves his hand under the pillow so when his mom comes to sit on the bed next to him, she doesn't see it.

"I really don't want to talk, Mom."

"I understand that this has got to be hard.. but we need to."

He groans and turns so he's facing her. She smiles at him gently and says, "So who your father saw.. that was Cas?" Dean's feels his cheeks getting red. He knew this is that she wanted to talk about, but just having her say his name and everything that implied...

"I'm not gay, okay? I wasn't.. It was just him."

She nods and says carefully, "I would like to meet him if you'd feel comfortable."

"It was a mistake. I told him not to come back."

"Is that because of your father?" When he tenses, she says, "I'm sorry he overreacted, but Dean, if this is part of you then that's okay. We love you either way."

"Yeah well dad-"

"Your father, too. He's.. he has some growing up to do but he'll come around. And this isn't about him."

Dean swallows and turns his cheek on the pillow so he's facing away… towards the window. She leans down to kiss the top of his head then quietly leaves him.

When the door clicks, he gets up to grab the fairytale book off his shelf and lays on his back in bed. Taking out the black feather, he stares at it for a long time. He rubs it across his lips and under his nose trying to inhale some vestige of Cas' scent. His eyes get shiny and his chest feels tight. God, after that shit today with his dad, looking at a freaking feather can make him suddenly feel fucking pathetic. He puts it back in the book carefully then tosses it under his bed.

At school on Monday, he sleeps his way through the first three periods, failing a quiz and completely forgetting an essay that was due. He sits at a picnic table near the lunchroom, purposely choosing a place Charlie wouldn't be. He'd been avoiding her all day because seeing her.. he'd have to talk about it and he'd rather sit here feeling miserable instead.

"Why so glum, baby?" Pamela stretches along the table in front of him.

Dean shrugs and glances up at her.

"Anything I can do to make it better?" She grabs his hand to stroke his palm with a black nail-polished fingertip.

He watches her as she licks her bottom lip and says, "Ya know, I was real disappointed when you never came to find me."

"Yeah?" Dean sighs and tries to stow all his weariness to smile up at her. "What'd you have in mind, Sugar?"

They end up in the roomy back seat of her El Dorado. She pushes him on his back and climbs up to straddle him. Pulling her shirt over her head, she reveals a black lacy bra they shows off her soft round flesh. When she unbuttons his jeans, he closes his eyes so he doesn't see her dark hair that reminds him of His. She's soft in all the right places, not hard and muscled. Her breathy noises are nothing like Cas' impossibly deep moans. She mashes their lips hard. Her weight, though lighter, covers him.

Dean quickly flips them so he's on top and not the one pressed into the seat. He could do this. She makes a happy purr while rubbing him through his jeans with one hand and pulling his head close with the other so she can lick his neck. It immediately reminds him of Cas. Anything she does now is tainted by a memory of Cas. No matter how he tries to just give in to the good feelings.. he can't tune out the constant flashes of blue eyes. She nibbles his ear. Honey. Stubble. Feathers. Oil. Messy hair he loved to grab.. Fuck. He winces when she bites his neck and props himself up with straightened arms.

"Hey this um.. this isn't gonna work."

She laughs once all throaty and tries to catch his lips again.

"No, look. I'm sorry, but I made a mistake."

She tilts her head and even that sends him a pang of memory and regret.

"Tell me it's not Barbie."

"It's not."

"Alright," she blows out air. "Damn shame with that cute ass of yours." She sinks her fingernails into his butt and smirks and then they awkwardly disentangle.

That night, his mom, Sam, and him eat dinner like nothing happened. His dad stayed out late and that was fine with him. When Sam asks Dean for a new drawing on his cast, it takes his mind off feeling shitty for a while.

Later in bed, he's half-awake and for a moment he thinks he's still dreaming when he hears the rustle of feathers.

He sits down beside him instead of at the end of the bed.

"I told you not to come."

"I am being disobedient."

Dean smiles because he can't see it then schools his face and sits up. Cas is sitting too close and it's hard not to want to remember their last time in his bed together. For days after, he smelled lingering reminders of his oil on his skin.

"You look different." Dean says, noticing his features seemed less soft. "And where'd your.." he points to his bare arm. "thing go?

"It is not of import."

Dean reaches up to trace his cheek and frown, looking for the slight differences. Cas turns his cheek into Dean's hand. "I was worried. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He pulls back his hand and fiddles with the covers.

Castiel's forehead creases. "Your father?"

"Yeah, not a great topic." He says to his hands. The blisters are faint and mostly peeled away.

Cas presses his lips and tries to duck his head to catch Dean's eyes. "We can be as we once were.. like you said. Friends." Dean looks up at him. "I won't touch you again." He looks so earnest and all the stress and tension from the last few days just seeps away.

"What if I don't think I can go back to just friends, Cas?" Dean cups his face while he's still looking confused and kisses him gently. It's sweet and tastes like finally. Relief. Like he had been waiting for him and now he was here and the last few days didn't matter. Cas breaks away to drag lips along his jaw and say, "You still smell like me."

It had been days and a few showers ago that they'd been rolling around on his bed but before he can say so Dean shivers because he's almost to that spot on his neck that makes him squirm. But then Cas pauses and hovers just above it.

"Cas?"

After a moment, he sits back and Dean blinks trying to understand the sudden pissed off look he's getting.

"What?"

"I did not make that."

… Oh. Right.

"Okay, look, I didn't- Stop, where are you going?" He whispers as loud as he dares to Cas' retreating back.

He spins and bites out a harsh, "What, Dean?"

"Cas, I didn't do anything with her. I mean, yeah I was going to but I didn't. It was nothing."

"You let her mark you. When I marked you, was it nothing?" Dean just opens his mouth and closes it. "Because it was something to me."

"Look you just don't know what it's like for me. How hard-"

"Did you ever consider what it would be like for me? With my brothers constantly telling me I am debasing myself with you. That to know you so intimately is an abomination."

"Oh thanks." Dean gets a shot of self-righteous anger even though he knows he's in the wrong.

"And to see that.. after you let me kiss you.." Cas glares at the ground and finishes, "I should not have come. You are obviously ambivalent about your feelings and I am only making your life more complicated."

"Will you calm the fuck down; it was seriously no big deal!"

"And neither was our time together."

"Fuck you, Cas." Dean shoves his shoulder but he barely moves. Gritting his teeth at how calm he is, Dean balls his fist and takes a swing at him. Cas grabs his fist mid-air and bends his arm at an angle that's painful enough to keep him in place.. which is right against Cas' chest. Dean tightens his jaw so he doesn't wince at the strain on his arm and Cas breathes evenly from a few inches away. It's almost as if they were about to kiss if they both weren't both so damn angry.

Finally Cas says low, "You are just a selfish boy." He lets Dean go and before the "boy" can think of something equally mean to say, he's out the window.

"So how was school today?" His mom asks the next night at dinner.

"Fine," Dean says, pushing food around his plate without looking up.

"Well Sam, how'd you like your first week of pre-school?"

"Fine!" He imitates Dean but it's a happy hyper sound. "The teacher liked my dragon."

Dean smiles at his brother before going back to slowly chasing peas with his fork. By now, Sam's cast had all kinds of graffiti doodles. After the dragon, he kept bringing Dean different color sharpies to add a superman emblem, a tiny train that circled the top, a robot.. until it was pretty eye-catching.

Awkward silence deafens the small dining room once more and Dean counts the minutes until he can leave the table. His dad and him haven't said two words to each other since they came back from shooting, despite his mom's attempts to include both of them in conversations.

"So honey, how's Cas?" His mom starts, as if it's just another normal topic. Before Dean can tense and avoid an answer, his father speaks.

"We talked about it and Dean decided he wasn't going to see…" He stutters over his name and that makes Dean seriously pissed, more pissed than scared.

"Cas." He supplies, tightly.

"Sure, whatever. Anyway Dean decided he wasn't going to see him again and we're not going to talk anymore about it." John takes a bite of pork chop without even looking his way.

Dean grinds his teeth and smiles, but there's no humor behind it. Mary frowns; shifting her eyes between her husband and son but when she opens her mouth, she's cuts off.

"Dad, what's a Hunter?"

John chokes trying to swallow his food. After taking a sip of iced tea, he clears his throat and says, "Excuse me?"

Dean leans forward on his forearms. "What. Is. A. Hunter? Jo said her dad was one, too. As in also."

Mary starts, "Honey, Jo is still dealing with a lot of grief and-"

"So what's dad's weird culty room down in the cellar?"

"Dean, you-"

"With knives and guns and bottles of crap I've never heard of."

"That's enough, Dean." John grounds out.

"Yeah, there's a lot of stuff we don't talk about, huh?" He pushes back from the table and storms off out the backdoor and into the night. He walks almost to the edge of the tree line and rubs his hands over his face.

"Cas.. I'm sorry."

He prays it a few more times and then just stands there folding his arms against the cold. He stands there so long, he starts to get creeped out by the dark woods and when his mom puts a hand on his shoulder he jumps a little.

"You alright?"

"Fine."

"I think your father wants to talk to you about… about what Jo said if you want to come back inside."

Dean sighs and lets her put an arm around his shoulders and pull him back towards the house. Halfway across the backyard, she starts humming like she often does. But this time... It gives him chills.

It sounds familiar and he can't place his odd reaction until she sings "cheek to cheek" under her breath.

"Mom." He stops where he is. She pauses and looks back at him. "What?"

"Why are you singing that?!"

"It's a classic. You need to listen to something other than your dad's old rock cassettes sometime."

"Yeah, but why that song?"

"I don't know, I seem to keep hearing it lately."

"What? Where?!"

"Are you okay, Honey?"

"Please, just.. it's important. Was it like on the radio or.. or was someone singing it?"

She rolls her eyes indulgently but looks off to think. "Maybe at the grocery.. No! I know. It was when I was picking up Sam at preschool. Yeah.. there was a dad there waiting to pick up his daughter."

Dread starts to ratchet up his heartbeat. It can't be. It's just a coincidence.

"What'd he look like?"

"Dean, why are you-"

"Please! Mom.. Just tell me."

"Hmm.. Tall. Grayish hair. I think he was some sort of a business man by his clothes. Had an odd way of speaking too but he was very nice."