Chapter 8

Castiel woke easily from his slumber, to the sound of a semi's engine shifting down. "Tahoe," the driver said. "Here you go." The man held out a hand with another smile. It had money in it.

Castiel started to protest, but the man pressed it into his hand. "Just take it. You look like you could use a sandwich. Just... good luck with whatever it is you're doing here."

"Thank you."

He stepped down out of the semi and waved as the man drove off. It was still raining a little. He missed now more than ever his angel powers. He was so close, but it would have been so much easier if he could just disappear into the wind and find Dean in an instant. He looked around, saw a big sign in the shape of a ten-foot-tall number seven and the words 'High Hopes Wedding Chapel—Open 24 hours—Weddings Hourly' underneath. Unwilling to believe that he was too late, Castiel continued his study of the surrounding area, gaze landing on a phone booth. There was a large, plastic-bound phone book handing underneath it by a chain, the pages wrinkled from the repeated exposure of rain and sun.

He stumbled over and picked up the book, going to the S's and searching for Robert.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Bobby's cabin was right next to the lake, so close, that the back porch was actually just a dock. Dean sat in a big recliner pulled up next to the bay window, watching the rain hit the water. He jumped when his dog, Rumsfeld, barked loudly. He stood from the rug and ran to the door, scratching at it, frantically trying to get out.

Dean, clad in pajamas, stood up and went over. "What's wrong, boy? There something out there?" He opened the door and stopped breathing, because on the other side was Castiel looking dead on his feet, cuts on his hand, lip and eyebrow. His eyes were barely open and steam came off his body in tendrils and he looked more human than Dean had ever seen him. But Cas was smiling.

"Hello, Dean," he said, and passed out.

Dean barely caught him before he hit the ground, and got his own clothes wet dragging him inside and out of the freezing rain. He slipped easily into doctor mode, leaving Cas lying on the floor by the lit fireplace while he sprinted off to the bathroom to grab towels and blankets. When he got back, he stripped Cas out of his wet jacket and suit and wraped him in everything he had, including his own robe and discarded jacket from earlier. He placed a throw pillow under Cas's head and went to get a bowl of water and a rag to clean Cas's wounds.

He laid down next to Cas without disturbing his cocoon of blankets and attempted to clean the cuts on his face. What happened to you? he thought.

Cas was an angel. He wasn't supposed to get hurt and he wasn't supposed to feel, but here he was, obviously having walked a long way to get here instead of flying or whatever, and he was sick and he was hurt and Dean stared at the cut on Castiel's lip, running his finger carefully over it, trying not to cry. He knew what Castiel had done and yes, Dean did ask him to do it, but he didn't know that this would happen. He didn't know that so much pain was involved. Why did he ask him to do this?

He started when Cas stirred and opened those gorgeous blue eyes, and it made him want to cry even more because they were looking at him with so much hope and love and Dean wanted to break down right then and there. Then Cas spoke.

"Am I too late?"

"Too late?" he whispered.

"Lisa?"

Dean smiled what he hoped was reassuring, and stroked Cas's face just above the cut on his eyebrow. "I couldn't marry Lisa. I'm in love with you."

Cas's eyes lit up and he smiled at Dean, like in all his existence, he'd never ever been happier.

Dean felt a tear slip out, and he shook his head. "What happened?" he sobbed.

"Free will." Cas reached up and cupped Dean's face so tenderly that Dean could barely stand it, because he knew that Cas could finally feel him. He reached up and covered the hand with his own. "I feel you," Cas whispered.

Slowly, Dean leaned forward, closing the barely three inches distance between them and kissed him softly on the lips, trying to make it worth it because, he thought, it was Castiel's first real kiss.

He was still so cold. Hypothermia, exposure. Dean knew what would help. He pulled off his pajamas and slipped into the blankets beside Castiel, relishing in the way their skin felt sliding together. He pulled Cas to him, and wrapped him tight in his arms. "Do you feel that?" he asked quietly.

"Yes."

Dean carded a hand through his hair and down the back of his neck. "And that?"

Cas nodded, his hum of contentment rumbling through Dean's ribcage. Dean felt as Castiel's arousal became evident, and was so awed, he could barely contain it.

"How's it feel? Tell me what it feels like."

"I can't."

"Try," Dean prodded.

Swallowing thickly, he answered. "Warm. Aching."

"It's okay," Dean murmured. "I'm here."

They fell asleep by the fire, wrapped in each other.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Castiel woke easily the next morning. His head lay warm on Dean's chest, and he delighted in it, listening to the heart that beat strong inside. The fire had gone out during the night, and the lingering scent of pine washed over him as he lay blinking in the daylight. This felt right. Dean was there, and Castiel was alive for the first time ever.

He breathed in the scent of Dean and ran a hand across his stomach, reveling in the feeling, skin to skin, the way lovers have done since the beginning of humanity.

A slight hitch in Dean's breathing marked his waking up. He gripped Castiel tighter in his early morning haze, and then stiffened. "Cas?"

Castiel looked up into his eyes. "Dean."

Dean grabbed his face and kissed him, and Castiel could barely think, he was so happy. He moved his lips the way that Dean did, and found the rhythm soothing, not even caring the way it pulled at his wounded lip.

Dean pulled back, staring into his eyes. "Cas, I—I just—"

"I know," he replied, and leaned back in.

After a moment, Castiel lay his head back on Dean's chest, still absolutely exhausted from his trials. Dean held on like he would never let go. "You know," he said, "I always asked the dying what they liked best about living. Wrote it down in my little book." Dean sighed, kissing him on the top of the head. "This is it. This is what I like best."

Dean let out a quiet laugh. "Boy, you haven't even started yet. We have our whole lives together." He sounded like nothing else would make him happier. "You and me. Mr. and Mr. Novack." They both laughed.

o0o

Castiel turned on the shower like he'd seen humans do, but before he got in, he decided to investigate some of the bottles of stuff in the bathroom. His sniffed something in a pink glass bottle, and was surprised by how good it smelled, and amazed at how humans would think of such a thing, soap that smells nice. He then selected another bottle, and put it to his nose, depressing the sprayer and getting a face full of cologne. He sputtered for a moment, coughing, but then put the bottle down and stepped into the shower.

And oh goodness, it was so hot. He jumped back with a shout, his scalded skin tingling. Upon further inspection of the knob, he discovered the cold water and adjusted the temperature.

Stepping under the spray was like magic, the warm water relaxing his sore muscles, and washing away all the sweat and blood and dirt down the drain. He felt better instantly as he rolled his neck and scrubbed at his hair. He didn't know which bottle was the soap, but he used them all anyway.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Dean was in the kitchen setting it up for breakfast, but couldn't seem decide on the place mats. First, he set them on opposite sides of the table, then shook his head and put them on the same side, then closer together, so they're overlapping on the edges, and him and Cas will basically have to sit in each other's laps.

He heard Cas screech like a pterodactyl from upstairs, but that wasn't a pained screech, just shocked. He breathed out a laugh, unable to keep a smile from his face.

He went about getting out the ingredients out for every breakfast food he could think of, but soon realized that there was no syrup to be found in the entire kitchen. And that just wouldn't do, not having waffles for his first breakfast ever. "Damn," he said quietly, thinking. That little store in town was only about a ten minute bike ride from the cabin. And Cas had been in the bathroom for almost twenty minutes before he heard the water even turn on, and it was another ten before the screech, so he figured he had time to pop in and be back before he was done, while the former angel figured things out.

Dean sprinted outside and jumped on his bike, wallet and backpack in hand. He made it all the way to the little store in record time and picked out the most expensive bottle he could find. The cashier looked at him like he was crazy, all sweaty and excited, but did the transaction quickly, and Dean stepped outside. He sat down on the steps to place the small bottle into the interior of the backpack, pausing just a moment to just bask in his happiness. Cas was here.

He got back on his bike and set off, enjoying the freedom and the fresh air.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Cas found the clothes that Dean had left out for him outside the bathroom and put them on. An old pair of jeans and a plaid shirt that smelled like Dean. He came down into the kitchen and saw the place mats on the table, the bowls of fruit and bread and eggs and bacon on the counter. A bowl full of batter sat in front of the open waffle maker, abandoned. Dean had made all of this for him. Castiel suddenly realized that this was what hunger felt like, but he waited, knowing Dean would be back in just a moment, from wherever it was he went, because Dean had been there for every first that mattered, and he should be there for every last damn one of them.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Dean was only about five minutes away, riding swiftly down the long road that went out to the cabin. There were woods all around him, and he could see the lake in the distance, surrounded by glorious mountains on both sides. It was so beautiful.

He could cry with his happiness. Cas was here. Cas was human, and he was waiting on Dean in that cabin. And he would always be there. Dean looked up at the sky. He would cook Cas breakfast and lunch and dinner, and maybe he'd even let Cas try his hand at cooking, he might like it. And— Dean looked back down at the road, and everything got suddenly quiet. There was a semi pulling on the road right in front of him, probably didn't even see Dean, and there was nothing he could do, no time to turn, no time to stop. He crashed into the side and everything went black.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Without warning, Castiel feel his heart go cold, what could only be dread pooling in his gut. He stood from the table, feeling panicked, and went outside.

Something's wrong, something's wrong , drummed in his head. Dean? What's wrong?

No thought, no planning, Castiel took off into the woods. He didn't know where it was he was going, but he let go and trusted that he wouldn't be led astray. He ran, faster and faster. After a few minutes, he found himself at a road. There was a truck there, similar to, but not the same one that brought him here to Dean.

It was parked perpendicular across the road. There were road flares on the ground and Cas just knew that Dean was on the other side. He ground to a halt. Dean, he though, hoping and praying that he was wrong because he has to be wrong. This couldn't be happening.

Even human, Castiel recognized aura of death and knew instantly what was happening. Spurned on, he ran around the truck and saw Dean laying on his back, head on his backpack and an overlarge coat covering his midsection like a blanket. His eyes were closed, but maybe he was still alive.

Castiel fell to his knee beside Dean and Dean opened his eyes before Cas could even touch him. He gasped for breath.

"Dean?" Castiel sputtered out.

It took an eternity for recognition to kick in, Dean's green eyes glassy and lost. "Cas," his voice shook.

Castiel's eyes filled instantly, and he said, "I'll get help," because this couldn't be it. Dean couldn't die. Not when they had so much time not spent together.

Dean managed to shake his head. "You're here. Stay."

He knew Dean was gone, but he refused to accept it. "I—I should get help."

"No," Dean pleaded with him, he grabbed for his hand, and Castiel let him. "No, don't go. The driver went. Please stay with— Please stay with me." Dean's own eyes spilled over as he looked up at Castiel. "I'm scared." He swallowed hard. "I screwed up."

"No." His heart was breaking.

"I wanted to show you everything."

"You will."

"You came all this way. I'm sorry."

"No!" Castiel sobbed. "Oh God, no, Dean. To touch you, and to feel you.. To be able to hold your hand right now. You know what that means to me? Do you—do you know how much I love you?" He couldn't take it.

Dean's gaze slipped past him, but Castiel got in his line of sight. "Keep looking at me, okay? Look right in my eyes."

"Someone's out there," Dean said.

"Dean! Don't look at them. Please, Dean, no. Don't you look at them!" he ground out.

Dean was about to die. His eyes were unfocused, and his voice quiet. "Is this what happens?" he asked.

Unable to deny it any longer, Cas whispered. "Yes. This is what happens."

"I'm not afraid." He smiled, looking back at Castiel. "When they ask me what I liked best... I'll tell them it was you."

Dean was staring at him right in the eyes when he went, face going blank.

"No," Cas cried out weakly, picking Dean up and holding him in his arms. "God, no."

o0o