Her eyes were aflame with malice and hatred. She stood in the dark before an ornate alter, muttering a string of curses. There was blood dripping out of a wound on her stomach, it pooled around her feet and made it appear as if she was standing on a macabre pedestal.

"Dean Winchester, you have killed the brothers and sisters of my coven. My family, my students, my lover. You have slain those who I love, now you shall slay those who you love."

A figure appeared in the doorway, blocking the dim light streaming in.

"Sorry sister, show's over. Time to give up the last stand, and—"

"I will never surrender to you," she spat. Her back was still to him. He saw the glint of a knife in her hand, his solider instinct kicked in and he braced to fight. He heard the wet gurgle of air and blood trying to escape through the same hole. Her body crumpled on the floor in the growing stain.

"Damn."

"I don't feel any urges to kill you, Sammy," Dean examined himself, "well more than usual that is."

"Comforting," he flipped through pages of a book, he stopped and held it up for his brother to see. "Did the herbs on the alter look like this?"

"Yeah, there was a bundle of them wrapped around my picture."

"Was there any other kind of herbs?" He leafed through more pages.

"Nope, that was it. What's the verdict, poindexter?"

"She must have been out of herbs to turn you on your family, those herbs are specific to romantic love. To turn you against someone you're in love with."

Dean gulped, he tried to sound calm, "well I don't feel like killing anyone," he couldn't say the name. "I'll be fine, it probably didn't work. I'm going to go get something to drink, you want anything?"

"nah, I'm fine. I think I'll start looking for more cases," Sam opened his laptop and began clicking away, Dean left without another word.

They were in Indiana. It was an unseasonably warm winter, but it was still winter. Dean zipped his jacket and pulled the collar up against the cold breeze. He walked with an urgent pace; he realized he forgot his wallet, so much for the liquor store.

I could never kill Cas. Shit, why did he pop into my head when that dumb witch cursed me?

He knew why, of course. He was still having trouble accepting this part of himself. Could the ultimate ladies man be in love with a man? He told his brother; Sam had accepted it readily enough. Sam had even let it slip to Bobby, and he really couldn't care less. Why was it so tough for Dean himself to accept?

That fucking angel. He must have used some of his freaky mojo on me. He's been watching since I was a kid, the sick bastard. Never bothered to help until it was useful to him. He used me to gain notoriety in Heaven.

Dean gritted his teeth. He'd walked to an abandoned part of town. He sat on the rusted hood of a long forgotten car and fumed.

That sick angel just wants me. Why else would he save me from Hell? I've been his wank material my whole life. Not anymore.

"CASTIEL!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, it echoed off broken walls and made stray dogs bark.

"Dean, no need to shout." The angel appeared beside him on the car hood.

"Can I see your sword? Sam and I are testing a theory," Dean was calm and collected; Castiel saw nothing to fear in the man's face. There was a strange smell surrounding him, but he ignored it. The silvered handle of the angelic blade was pressed into the waiting hand.

"What is this the—" His head hit the pavement. Sure the fall from the car hood was nothing compared to things he'd faced before, but he felt the scalp of his vessel split as his skull bounced on the dirty concrete. The angel blade felt like an icicle pressed to his throat. The weight of the hunter straddling him felt oddly comfortable despite the shaking blade in his hand.

"You used me. I'm not your fuck doll, you angel freak!" He was growling through his teeth.

"Dean, calm down," Castiel was unshakably cool despite the circumstances. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You do! You know exactly what! I am not your puppet, Cas. You can't use me as leverage against Heaven anymore," He took a deep breath, there were tears streaming down his face. Castiel knew what was coming, he felt the hunter shift his weight, preparing to make a move. Cas shoved. The blade drew a sliver of grace from his neck as the bodies rolled. Light leaked from the wound like light under a door. Dean tried to slash and slice, but the angel was too strong. His arms were pinned under Castiel's knees, there was a hand around his throat, and the angel blade had clattered away out of his reach.

"Dean Winchester, what do you think you are doing?" The low voice of the angel was the one growling now, his nails pressed into the skin of the other mans neck and his eyes bore into the green ones shooting flames below him. "I did not use you, I didn't use you as a puppet, you are not my so-called 'fuck doll,' Dean. But you are mine."

"Fuck you!" Dean spat at the angel. Castiel tightened his grip, there would be a bruise. The throat strained to breath under his fingers.

"You are mine, and I am yours." For the first time, Castiel noticed the other man reeked of dark magic. He said a cleansing prayer in enochian and hoped this would work. He leaned down to the other man, who was silently raging still; Castiel silently finished his prayer and pressed his lips to the tight ones below him. Dean tried to shake the angel's mouth free, but hands came up and held his head steady. Castiel deepened the kiss; he felt the body below him stop resisting. The lips locked with his tried to mumble something out. He removed his mouth cautiously.

"Uh, Cas, you're crushing me here," Dean said weakly.

"Do you still feel the need to slit my throat?"

He saw the light leaking from the angel's neck. It was healing quickly, but Dean knew what he'd done. He went pale, a look of twisted pain stained his face.

"Oh my god..I couldn't help it, Cas," he whispered, the angel rolled off of him and sat beside him on the ground, staring into the distance. Dean pulled himself up and looked at his hands shamefully.

"You smelled like magic."

"We…we went to talk to this coven of witches today, they'd been cursing people in families of wealth after marrying into them. They…They attacked, we had no choice but to fight back. We killed them. But the leader escaped. She ran. When I found her, she said I would kill the person I loved for killing her loved ones," he looked at Castiel with tears in his eyes "I'm sorry, I am so sorry. I didn't…I couldn't…" his fingers drifted to the cut on the angel's neck, it was little more than a pink scar now.

"It's alright, Dean."

"Those things I said, Cas that was horrible. It wasn't me. I didn't mean it."

"I know."

Castiel's calm made Dean nervous.

"Are we okay?" He wasn't sure if he wanted the answer. Angel looked at him for the first time.

"I know you love me because you tried to kill me. I realize that is not customary for people in love, but we are not customary people in love," his voice was even, there wasn't a hint of sarcasm or anger in it. Something snapped in Dean, and his eyes started leaking again, but he was smiling.

"Jesus, man. Ain't that the truth."

"I'm sorry if I hurt you."

"Nah, I deserved it."

Castiel let out a small chuckle, "yeah, a little bit."

"I'm sorry for trying to sishkabab you with your own sword."

"Better luck next time," he smiled mockingly at the other man who was a mess of tears and dirt.

They sat in silence on the ground a while longer, they were both filthy from the tussle.

"Will you walk me home?" Dean asked quietly. Castiel stood up and brushed off his hands on his pants, and held out his hand to help the other man up. They walked back, hand in hand. They passed the liquor store and Dean remembered why he went out in the first place. Castiel picked up on it, and suddenly there was a bag with beer and whiskey in Dean's free hand.

"Did you just steal that?"

The angel just smiled and continued walking, "Shh."