"I don't think you've ever directly asked for my help," Sam looked surprised.

"It's about Dean."

"Is he alright? Is he in trouble?" Sam was scared, he couldn't lose Dean again. Castiel felt bad for Sam interpreting things negatively.

"He's fine," that wasn't completely true, Sam's addiction and relationship with Ruby had been bothering him, but it wasn't for Castiel to comment on. "I wanted to consult you on a birthday gift for him."

"Oh yeah, his birthday is Tuesday, isn't it?"

Castiel nodded.

"What were you thinking about getting him?" Sam fidgeted nervously when he was alone with the angel. Castiel knew it was the demon blood making him anxious around holy powers. Castiel pulled out a leather bound journal from his jacket. He handed it to Sam to examine. It was brown like the Winchester's father's had been. It wasn't battered and torn and coming apart at the seams though. There was a snap that closed it, and space to add pages in the back. It was sturdy and smooth. "Wow, Cas. This is really nice."

"He talks so much about John's journal. I thought Dean might want to keep one for future hunters. He's seen so much more than John could have ever imagined."

" I wonder what dad would say about this mess," he paused in thought for a moment before handing the blank book back to Cas, "He'll like it. He'll love it, Cas."

"Thank you for your input."

"Cas?"

"Yes, Sam?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being there for Dean. I haven't been the best brother at times. He..He's changed with you around. For the better I mean. He seems almost happy. I haven't seen Dean genuinely relaxed in years."

"Oh," the angel wasn't sure how to respond. There was an awkward moment, Sam rocked with his hands shoved in his pockets and Castiel furrowed his brow trying to think of an appropriate response, "We are bonded. It goes both ways."

"So you're happy too?"

"Very much so."

"That's good, Cas," Sam looked genuinely pleased smiling at the angel. "I gotta get more work done before Dean gets back though or I'm in for it."

"Goodbye, Sam."

The angel disappeared as suddenly as he'd arrived, and Sam continued to click away at his laptop.

Dean stared at the object in his hands. It looked like his dad's. It felt like his dad's. He turned it over and over; feeling the buttery leather, examining every stitch and seam so he wouldn't have to respond, flipping through the blank pages. Inside the cover there was a note scrawled in quick but neat handwriting "To Dean, 'The enemy that sowed them is the devil; the harvest is the end of the world; and the reapers are the angels.'" It was signed "Castiel."

"Why that verse?" it was the first thing he'd said since the gift had been presented.

"You're a killer. But the world would be at a loss without you."

"That's pretty fucking grim, Cas. In a poetical sort of way."

"Do you not like your present?"

"It's nice," he said half heartedly.

"You don't," the angel sounded hurt, but looked confused. The hunter still hadn't looked at him, he was just staring at the journal, turning it over.

"I do, really."

"I thought it would remind you of your father."

"It does."

"And that's what is wrong?"

"Growing up, you swear you'll never make the same mistakes your parents did, that you'll never be like them. I admired my dad. He was my dad! He did his best to raise Sammy and me, he taught us everything there was to know about hunting, but he left when we really needed him most. I hate him for that," he looked up at Cas for the first time; there were tears in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't mean to…" he wasn't quite sure what to say again. Castiel didn't like that feeling.

"No, I'm sorry. I'm a jerk," he stood up, and embraced the angel, "It's great. Thank you. Sammy and I have seen more than most hunters, we should probably write some of it down. It was very thoughtful, even though I told you not to get me anything." He pretended to sock Cas on the shoulder and gave a weak smile. He started to strip for the shower; it had been a long day and he wanted to melt under the hot tap.

"I've met him," Cas said softly, it almost went unheard, "Your souls are nothing alike." He didn't finish his thought; Dean was so much stronger than John had ever been, driven half mad by grief and revenge. Dean was a good man; John had just been a man. He would never say it to his hunter though.

"Good," he disappeared into the bathroom.

Castiel heard the water turn on and the shower door slide twice in the track. He got up and stripped his clothes also, opening the door and stepping into the bathroom already beginning to steam. He slipped past the glass in behind Dean.

"Cas, what are you doing?"

He slipped his arms around Dean and nuzzled his neck, "I'm taking a shower with you."

Apparently that answer suited the other man, who turned to kiss him. The gentle kiss quickly grew heated. Teeth catching on lips, tongues battling for dominance, hands groping ungracefully. Castiel pushed Dean against the cold tile of the shower wall, he gasped and tried to pull away, but Castiel had him pinned, one hand on his hip the other form fit to the scar on his shoulder. The extreme sensations of the hot water and the cold tile made Dean shiver inadvertently. As did the sight of the angel kneeling before him. Castiel's nails racked the sensitive skin of Dean's stomach on his way down, Dean's hand slide into his wet hair. The angel's soft lips teased his thighs, before taking Dean into them. He let out an obscene moan when he felt the hot tongue swirling around the head of his dick. He wanted more. His hand knotted into Cas's hair, pulling him forward. He took it willingly. Dean wasn't sure how the angel had gotten so good at giving head so quickly, but he loved it. He bucked into Cas's mouth, who coughed and sputtered, but looked up adoringly at the man. Cas loved this, he loved the taste of Dean. He worked the hunter until he couldn't handle it anymore. He swallowed all Dean gave him. He placed kisses on his hips and stomach as he went up.

"Happy birthday, Dean."