Dean watched Castiel field strip his weapon for the third time in a row with pride. His angel's fingers were strong and capable, his brow furrowed in concentration as he reconstructed the gun with confidence; he thought Cas was beautiful.

It had been two weeks since the cleansing ritual had been completed. Sam was doing great; better than Dean could have dared to hope for. It was as if the trials had never happened. There had been zero news on the fallen angels, other than the news reports about the surprise meteor shower. All was quiet, and Dean found it both comforting and ominous.

They had taken this rare lull to teach Cas and Crowley about humanity and hunting. Crowley was starting to worry Dean. He threw himself into training with an intensity that the hunter had never seen before. The former demon had nightmares every night, and drank even more than Dean ever had, even on his worst day. They were going to have to have a talk about the drinking soon.

On the other hand, Cas was shaping up to be a damn fine hunter. He no longer panicked about nightmares and had adjusted to the bodily needs of being human with ease. With his vast stores of knowledge about lore and his centuries of combat experience, his training was more a matter of fine tuning than anything. There was none of the awkwardness that Cas had around people the last time he had tried to hunt. Humanity suited his angel well.

Dean smiled as he watched Cas set the slide back into place and cock his newly reassembled gun. They had been inseparable after the first night of the ritual. Cas had his own room, but every night he stumbled through Dean's door. Dean always pulled back the covers to let him slip in next to him. They would talk about nothing in particular for hours, just learning more about each other before falling asleep around dawn. Every morning they were tangled together like lovers.

Of course they weren't lovers, not yet. They hadn't discussed their obvious attraction to each other; they didn't have to. They could tell what the other was thinking through the loaded looks and innocent touches they exchanged throughout the day. They had gone no further than sharing a bed, but it was obvious that Cas wanted more. So did Dean, he was just trying to figure out how to take the next step. His only long term relationship had been with Lisa, and something had always been missing. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it right.

"GODDAMNIT DEAN!" Sam's shout shattered the peaceful atmosphere and distracted Dean from his wayward thoughts.

Cas looked up in confusion. Dean tried desperately to keep a straight face as Sam came barreling into the room. His bitch face was reaching max levels as he waved his iPod angrily in Dean's face.

"Rickrolling? Really? What are you, five?"

Dean chuckled. "What can I say, I'm young at heart."

"We're not starting that prank shit again, Dean! Remember last time?"

Castiel looked confused. "I don't understand. What is a Rickroll?"

Sam's bitch face kicked up another notch. "He replaced every song on my iPod with the song Never Gonna Give You Up by Rick Astley because he's a dumbass."

Cas mused that in the past, he would have been confused by this act, but not now. Dean had been teaching him about human pop culture. He threw his head back and howled in glee. Sam frowned. "Not funny, Cas."

Cas wiped a tear from his sparkling blue eyes, smiling. "I don't know Sam, I believe the prank was quite humorous."

Sam looked crestfallen that the former angel wasn't on his side. "Sure Cas, take your boyfriend's side."

Castiel just grinned. He didn't mind being called Dean's boyfriend; he wanted to be that anyway. He wanted to be his everything, and hearing it out loud made him happy. He looked over at Dean and saw that he was blushing furiously, his freckles standing out like exclamation points on his high cheekbones. Sam continued with righteous indignation, "Alright, Dean, you asked for it. Just remember that you started it."

Dean smirked. "Bring it on, Moose."

Sam smiled; he liked the nickname the others had adopted from Crowley. It was fitting.

"Whatever. Anyway, Garth called. We have a case."

Dean and Cas perked up with interest at the news. Sam approached the table and spread the file he was holding. "Demonic omens are cropping up all across the country. More than we've seen since the Devil's Gate was opened. We're pretty sure Abaddon has taken over Hell; the bitch is up to something. Everywhere these omens are cropping up, people are showing up dead." Dean and Cas frowned.

"Any connection between the victims?" asked Dean.

"One," said Sam. "All of the victims were entered in the missing persons database within the last five years, then they randomly turned up dead in places they had no reason to be. "

"Any theories?" asked Dean. Sam shrugged his broad shoulders.

"Maybe they were in hiding. Made a crossroads deal and ran when the bill came due, then Abaddon sent demons for them?"

Castiel was shuffling through the file, looking for something.

"Maybe," said Dean, "Seems like a solid theory. We should take off and look for-"

"Dean," Castiel's voice broke. Dean's head whipped around to look at his angel. His beautiful blue eyes were huge and round, his face pale. He was holding a sheaf of photos in trembling hands; it looked like he might be sick at any moment.

Dean was there in an instant, arm around the former angel's shoulders. "Easy, Cas. What's wrong?"

Horror and pain radiated from Castiel's bones. He took a deep breath a spread the pictures on the table. He pointed at a picture of a woman in her mid-twenties with red hair and brown eyes. "This is Aria. She was in a different garrison that specialized in healing," His fingers next traced the picture of a middle aged man. "This is Barnabas," Next came a teenage boy. " And this is Ophaniel, " Each time his fingers touched a picture he rattled off a different name, his eyes filled with infinite sadness.

He watched as Sam and Dean's faces darkened with understanding. "These are fallen angels. The demons are killing them," Cas murmured.

"But why? What's the point?" asked Sam.

Dean looked into Castiel's eyes; that silent communication they shared passed between them and he understood. "Because if we find a way to put them back where they belong, the angels could stop whatever Abaddon's planning. If they're all dead, then it'll be virtually impossible to stop her."

Sam paled. "We have to do something."

"We have to find a way to get the angels back to Heaven," said Castiel looking grim and determined.

"Kevin is working on it," said Dean, "when he knows something, we'll know something."

Sam looked thoughtful. "Is there a spell we could cast to create a beacon in the bunker? The angels could sense it and come here. Then we could protect them."

Dean automatically moved in front of Cas, sheltering him with his body. "No way," he said roughly.

"Why the hell not?" Sam said.

"Why do you think? If they know what happened, then they might want to hurt Cas! You know the angels are dicks! They aren't going to stop to listen to reason!"

Cas placed his hand gently on Dean's arm, stopping his tirade. "Sam, could you give us a moment?"

Sam's raised his eyebrows, but he said, "Sure," and then left the room. Cas tugged at Dean's sleeve as he walked towards his room; Dean followed, confused. Cas closed the door behind them and turned to talk to his hunter.

"Dean, what happened to the angels is my fault-"

Dean started to argue but Cas held up his hands and cut him off. "Please, Dean, just listen. It was my fault. I shouldn't have trusted Metatron. The angels out there are my kin, and this is happening because of me. I have to help them. If they want to hurt me, then let them try. They wouldn't dare while we are granting them sanctuary, but I wouldn't blame them if they did. It's no less than I deserve." Castiel finished, looking at the ground in shame.

Dean reached forward and tilted Cas' chin up so he had to look him in the eye. "Cas if this is anyone's fault, it's mine. I've messed up your life so much. I made you rebel. I wasn't there when you needed me. I've screwed things up for you so much, so don't blame yourself."

Dean thought back to when Cas had gone insane and Hester had told Dean that he ruined everything he touched.

'When Castiel first laid a hand on you in Hell, he was LOST.'

Anger flashed in Cas' eyes. He grabbed Dean by the upper arms and slammed him into the wall, eyes burning. "Stop it! I know exactly what you're thinking, Dean."

Dean started to argue again, but Cas reached out and gripped his left arm tightly over the scar of his hand print. Electricity crackled through the point of contact; Dean snapped his mouth shut, transfixed by the burning intensity of his angel's blue eyes. He couldn't believe that Cas actually knew what he had been thinking. They were so connected it was like mind reading.

"I was not lost when I laid a hand on you in Hell. If I hadn't raised you from perdition, the apocalypse would have happened, and I would have spent eternity as an emotionless robot. I wasn't lost when I saved you, I was found. You saved me, Dean. Just as surely as I saved you."

Dean just watched his angel, green eyes smoldering with barely contained emotion. Cas reached up and traced his cheekbone, making him shiver as he continued.

"You blame everything on yourself. You try to be brave and take the burdens of those you love upon your shoulders. Don't. This is my burden to bear, not yours. I've never regretted rebelling. It brought me closer to you."

His gentle exploration of Dean's face continued.

"Cas," Dean whispered. He had no idea what he'd done to deserve something so good, but he was never letting it go. The hunter's hands reached up, one touching the angel's face, the other resting on his chest. Their faces got closer.

"You think you're undeserving of anything good. That you're a bad person. That's not true."

Dean's eyes were half lidded, his breathing heavy. Their lips were a hairbreadth apart. Dean could feel Cas' warm, sweet breath ghosting across his lips. Their noses brushed.

"Do you know what I felt when I raised your soul from Hell? Good. Pure, untainted good. Your soul was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen or felt, in all my centuries. You're a good man, Dean Winchester. You deserve happiness, and I would fall a thousand times over just to be standing here in front of you in this moment."

Dean's heart was singing. Everything he needed to hear, everything he had ever wanted was right in front of him in the form of this fallen angel. His eyes fluttered closed as they crossed the tiny space between them. Their mouths pressed together softly. Cas' lips were warm and smooth. They broke the kiss, faces inches apart, and just stared. Dean couldn't contain the inferno raging inside of him. He crushed their lips back together, grabbed Cas and whirled him around so that his angel was against the wall.

Cas let out a little moan and wrapped his arms around his hunter, their bodies pressed tightly to each other. When Dean's tongue ran along the seam of his mouth, he shivered and granted him entrance.

Dean tasted warm and wild, like honey and whiskey and clove. His hands were everywhere, touching and roaming. Cas heard needy moans escaping his throat; his heart felt like it would burst through his chest with happiness. If he had known being with Dean would be like this, he would have ripped his own grace out the second he had pulled him out of Hell.

Their tongues tangled in a slow, sensuous dance, tasting and touching like they never wanted it to end.

Dean loved the feel of Cas pressed up against him. He tangled his fingers in downy locks of hair and held him closer, nails lightly scratching his scalp. When he felt Cas' erection pressing into his thigh he went wild. He ground himself into the angel and felt him gasp; their denim clad erections dragged together deliciously. Cas bit Dean's lip and let it slide slowly between his teeth. Dean growled and walked them to the bed.

Cas pushed Dean on his back and straddled his hunter. Their lips found each other again and they kissed as they rocked against each other. Cas was full of heat and sensation and holy shit he needed more right now. His hands roamed under Dean's shirts, making a choked noise when he felt the muscled, sweat slicked skin. He tore his lips away and looked into Dean's eyes. Cobalt blue met stormy green in a look full of devotion and promise; a warrior and his guardian angel pledging themselves to each other.

Cas stroked his face and Dean reached up to grasp Castiel's hips. Their lips were about to touch again when a knock sounded on the door.

Cas dropped his forehead to Dean's with a groan of frustration.

"Dean?" Sam knocked again.

"Be out in a minute."

"Kay." Sam's footsteps walked away from the door. Dean turned his attention back to the angel sitting astride him. His blue eyes were cloudy with lust. His dark hair was mussed up, lips swollen from the intensity of their kisses, his shirt rumpled. There was a tiny freckle on his left cheekbone. It was his only one, and Dean rolled them over so they were face to face on their sides and kissed it softly.

"Dean,"

"Yeah, Cas?"

"I want to do this again."

Dean's heart soared. A tiny piece inside of him that had been broken for years mended itself looking at the sincere look of devotion in his angel's eyes. He leaned forward and kissed him again. He tried to pour all of his heart and soul, his pain and heartbreak into that kiss. He tried to let him know that he was fixing him. When the kiss broke they were both breathless. Cas had a look of wonder and joy in his eyes.

Dean held him close and said, "Me too, Cas. Always."