A/N: I decided to split this chapter into two parts, because of the sheer amount of things I wanted to say. I will post the next part sometime in the coming week, but I had to get this one up before I could start second guessing myself and revise it, or replace it altogether.

Thanks for the support and reviews... and follows. I love you, guys! :D

Part 5

"Good day sunlight, I'd like to say how truly bright you are... You don't know me but I know you, see, You're my favourite star… Follow you I will so let's get moving…

Who needs shelter when the morning's coming? Absolutely there's no one… Who needs shelter from the sun? Not me, no not anyone…"

Dean raised his head off his pillow and squinted at the clock on the table beside his bed, until it shifted into focus. "6.35 AM", the little green letters flashed back at him. He took a deep breath and shouted, "Cas! Cas, turn the off the music."

Cas gave absolutely no sign of having heard him. He roamed a tongue over lips and teeth, just enough to dissipate the dryness of the night, and yelled, "Cas! Turn Off That Beiber Crap Right Now!"

This time, Cas replied. "It's not Beiber. It's Jason Mraz. And you're late."

"It's my day off," Dean yelled back, burrowing under the covers and jamming a pillow over his head to prevent his ears from getting assaulted.

Fucking Cas and his fucking songs with nice lyrics. He was a grown man dammit and it was his day off, and Cas had no right to force him to wake up. He was going to lie here as long as he wanted, and Cas couldn't do anything about it. He closed his eyes and regulated his breathing, tuning out the sound.

He awoke up again with a start when some chick started yelling, "Friday… it's Friday… Gotta get down on Friday" at the top of her lungs. Oh for the love of… He pushed off his covers and sat up, his head pounding to that horrible grating voice. He took a large breath and bellowed, "CASTIEL NOVAK! YOU SHUT THAT BITCH DOWN OR I'LL SHUT IT FOR YOU."

"I can't hear you," Cas yelled over the noise, as the volume increased.

Why you little— Dean pushed down his inner Homer Simpson and pulled his wheelchair closer, practically jumping on it and hurrying out to turn off the radio before he suffered a brain aneurysm. He saw a plethora of multicoloured sticky notes scattered around the room... "Happy One Month Anniversary", "Wake up, it's our anniversary", "Can you believe we've been together for a month", "Why aren't you up yet?", "Do you even remember it's our anniversary?"… Of course he remembered. That's why he had the day off. That's why he had planned that surprise for Cas, but damn if he was getting it now.

He turned off the music and checked to see if his ears were bleeding, just in case, before turning to see Cas on his knees – freshly showered – making pancakes, just the way he had that first morning. He loitered behind, taking in the bewitching sight, knowing that he would never get tired of watching Cas cook, surprised by how comfortably they had settled into this domesticity.

Cas looked up at him and smiled, and he smiled back before realising that he was supposed to be pissed at him. When Cas crooked a finger at him, he found himself moving toward Cas even before his mind registered what was happening. By the time he stopped before Cas, Cas was already half-standing and reaching forward to kiss him. Dean held onto him, kissing back with all he had, until Cas broke them apart and whispered, "Happy anniversary, Major."

Dean smiled back and whispered, "Happy anniversary, babe. What's you cookin'?"

Cas pointed to the heart-shaped pancakes stacked on a plate. "I, Cas Novak, present thee, Major, with Chocochip Peanut Butter Pancakes with Blueberry Syrup and Rhubarb Jam."

Dean gave a moan of pleasure and kissed Cas again, just because he could, until Cas wrinkled his nose and muttered, "Eww, morning breath. Go and brush your teeth."

"It didn't stop you before," Dean observed.

"Fine. Let's try it another way. If you don't go and shower, you don't get any pancakes," Cas asserted.

"That's blackmail, and you know it."

"Then sue me," Cas retorted with a smirk.

Dean sighed and raised his hands in defeat. "Fine, I'll concede now. But you better watch your back, Novak. I'm gonna make you pay."

"Oh, I'll be looking forward to it, Major," Cas replied sarcastically, turning back to the stove.

Dean turned towards the bathroom, wondering just what he had seen in this crazy, manipulative dick.

-x-X-x-

It was two weeks into their living together that Dean first brought up the fact that Cas needed a cell. Of course, Cas denied it saying he had no use for a mobile phone. He didn't really have anyone to call, and if someone wanted to get hold of him then they could reach him at the garage, Roadhouse or home.

Of course, because Dean had no sense whatsoever, and because he had no idea how to drop a subject, he had argued back. "But if what if you are not at any of those places?"

"Then you can always wait until I get home," Cas countered.

"But…" Dean sputtered, trying to explain why exactly he wanted Cas to have a mobile phone, without sounding too desperate or clingy. He looked away, not meeting Castiel's eyes. "But what if you aren't here and I need to contact you? What if you leave and I feel like talking to you? Or something…" he said nonchalantly, letting his voice fade before he said something really stupid like, "I'm just a girl standing in front of a guy asking him to love her."

Yes, he had lost his Notting Hill virginity with Cas. And he was secure enough in his masculinity to admit that though he didn't care about chick-flicks, or Julia Roberts, he nevertheless found himself rooting for Hugh Grant and cursing her for leading him on, until he realised he was doing the exact same thing to Cas. Hence, the mobile phone.

He looked back up, to see Cas smiling back at him. But it didn't reach his eyes. His eyes showed fear… hurt… something else Dean couldn't recognise. "Okay," he replied, his voice calm and precise, like he was carrying out an order he didn't agree with it. "But nothing too expensive. Now, can you excuse me, please?" he said brushing past Dean and locking the bathroom door behind him.

When he emerged 10 minutes later, his face was composed… stoic. Dean had been in enough "boys don't cry" situations to know that Cas was trying to bite back his tears. He saw Cas walking back to his room, without even looking at him, let alone bestowing him with the nightly goodnight kiss, which he'd come to expect, and heard the lock click in place. He turned to his own room, trying to figure out what had gone wrong.

He lay in the bed for 30 minutes going over the past two weeks, looking for any clues that could convey why Cas hated mobiles so much. Nothing. So he started all over again, trying to see if he had missed out anything. Nope. In fact, he hadn't even seen Cas this calm and stoic, since—

And just like that, it hit him. He shot up, a jolt of pure adrenaline making it easier. Christ! He was so stupid. So fucking stupid. Of course, Cas had thought— Christ! The last time he had seen Cas like this was 15 minutes before he broke down, and spilled his life story to Dean, and admitted that he had nowhere to go. And here Dean was being an ass and thinking that Cas was going to move on from him. He had been too caught up in his own pity party to see that even Cas was waiting for the other shoe to drop. They were blind-leading-the-blind here. He laughed, settling down in his wheelchair, not sure if he was laughing at their situation or the fact that Cas thought Dean was going to get over him and kick him out.

He found himself going towards Cas' room, even before he could figure out his course of action.

"Cas!" he said slamming on the door. "Open up." No reply. "Open up, dammit."

"Go away, Dean," a muffled voice replied. "I already said you can buy me a cell."

"I need to speak to you."

"I'm sleeping, Dean." The voice sounded broken, but it wasn't as muffled as before. Cas was sitting up on the bed, Dean realised.

"C'mon, Cas." Dean wasn't called "Blood Hound" for nothing. "Open up. I need to speak to you, right now."

"Go away, Dean," Cas replied, flopping back down on the bed. "It can wait till tomorrow."

"Fine," Dean muttered and turned back to his room.

-x-x-x-

Cas turned onto his stomach and buried his face in the pillow. Here he was thinking he could make Dean love him, when Dean couldn't wait to get rid of him. He had seen the look when Dean brought up the phone. He sniffed into the pillow, thinking about his next course of action. He couldn't stay here anymore. He had to leave. And he had to leave before Dean woke up.

He stood up, and tiptoed around his room packing his stuff away. He regretted that for once he had taken the time to unpack everything, taking in how perfectly at home it looked nestled in the main bedroom. He had been waiting for Dean to come in one day, profess his love and take him to bed in every sense of the term. He huffed a laugh at how stupid he sounded. This wasn't a fairy tale, this was real life.

Dean would never see him, he thought. He was nothing compared to the beautiful man in the next room. Dishonourably discharged soldier, where Dean was a war hero. A college drop-out, where Dean was an engineer. Shy, nerdy, pathetic, while Dean was beautiful, vibrant, full of life. Of course, Dean would never see him. He would see someone as beautiful and wholesome as Carmen or Ken, the guy he'd been flirting with last night, or Mackenzie who had been eyeing like a greasy hamburger three nights ago, or…or… He composed himself. No, he would leave and this would be the last he thought of Dean Winchester, or his pathetic little heart that he had so completely given to Dean. He turned to his dresser, praying that Dean would forgive him.

It didn't take long to pack everything he owned in the two ratty bags he carried around. He stacked them at the foot of his bed, turned off his lights and waited for Dean to fall asleep so he could make his escape, like the coward Jake had called him after he was stripped of his stripes.

-x-x-x-

Dean was no better. Ever since, he had returned to his room, he couldn't shake the feeling that Cas was thinking of doing something stupid. Hell, he was thinking of doing something stupid. The problem was, "what?" He knew he had fucking screwed up the one good thing they had going, and frankly, he was glad that he had, because now he had the chance to make it right.

But he had no idea how to 'court', as Cas would say, someone. All his knowledge of courting came from chick-flicks he had absolutely refused to sit through, except Notting Hill, or Disney flicks. He didn't believe in "roses and chocolates and magic and fairy godmother" crap and neither did Cas. He wasn't a poet, like Sam, that he would dedicate a poem to his girl, or an excellent cook like Cas that he would just whip up some pancakes to make him fall for him. He was a simple mechanic from South Dakota who loved burgers and steak, drank occasionally and was obsessed with his old car. And he was in love with the Angel next door. He looked around his room for an inspiration… something… to strike him, when he spotted his guitar sitting smugly by his bed, standing from when Cas had sang to Dee, and her new teddy Uncle Cas, two nights ago.

He wheeled over, picked it up and wheeled towards Cas' room. Suddenly, Cas' obsession with 'songs with nice lyrics' didn't seem so bad anymore.

-x-x-x-

Cas looked at the door as he heard scuffling noise and stiffened when Dean cleared his throat just outside his room. "C'mon Cas. Open up," Dean said. He fought every instance of his body to do just that. If he kept quiet long enough, Dean would think he was asleep and leave. "C'mon Cas. I know you're just pretending to sleep. Please open the door, Cas." He refused to get up, refused to even look at the door for fear that it would somehow break his resolve.

"Fine! Be a stubborn ass," he heard. "But don't say I didn't warn you." He let loose a breath he had been holding. Finally. Finally, Dean would leave. And then he heard it. A guitar twang, followed a few more as Dean adjusted the strings. What the— he tiptoed to the door and slid down beside it. What was he doing?

"Okay," Dean cleared his throat dramatically. "This song is dedicated to one Castiel Novak from an asshole, also known as Major. He just hopes it will say everything he was dumb enough not to."

"It's amazing how you can speak to right to my heart… Without saying a word you can light up the dark…
Try as I may, I can never explain… what I hear when you don't say thing…"

Cas bit his lip to prevent the sob from escaping and held a hand over his mouth to muffle the sounds. He didn't, however, stop the tears that had started pooling in his eyes.

"The smile on your face, let's me know that you need me… There's a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me…
The touch of your hand says you'll catch me, wherever I fall…"

Dean wiped his own tears away. He had been stupid. God! He hoped Cas would forgive him.

"You say it best… When you say nothing at all…

All day long I can hear people talking out loud… But when you hold me near, you can drown out the crowd…
Try as they may, they can never define… what's being said between your heart and mine…"

Cas couldn't stop the tears flowing down his cheeks and he didn't even want to. Dean. Dean loved him. Loved him enough to sing a girly song from a chick flick for him. He smiled, gathering his t-shirt to his face and started sobbing into it. These were the tears of happiness.

Outside, Dean heard the muffled sobbing. It wasn't coming from the bed, it was coming from somewhere very very close to the door. He lowered the guitar and wheeled forward till his knees were pressed to the door and leaned forward till face was merely an inch from it. "Cas," he said softly. "Cas, babe, open up." The sobbing quieted immediately, followed by a whimper and a sniff. "Cas, please. Please, open up. I need to talk to you." Another sniff. If that's what Cas wanted… "Look," he said. "I know I was an idiot, alright. I thought you were going to leave me, and I didn't want to get hurt. Again. But I realise that I was just hurting you. And I am sorry… I am sorry, Cas, please."

The door clicked open, and Dean could see Cas' bags stacked up on the floor. Tomorrow, he would tear Cas a new one for even thinking about leaving him. But right now, was not the time. He wheeled himself into the master bedroom and turned around to see Cas right beside the door, back flat to the wall, knees pulled up to his chin. Even in the slight glow of the hallway light, he could see that Cas had been crying. Without thinking he found himself on the floor beside his angel, holding him, hugging him tightly.

"You thought I was going to leave you?" Cas spoke up after what seemed like an eternity, his voice a bit shaky from crying. "Why would you think that?"

"Because I am a pessimistic a-hole who overthinks things," Dean replied matter-of-factly. "But it doesn't mean anything. Right?" he asked pulling back and looking Cas in the eye.

Cas smiled sheepishly and hugged him again. "Not anymore," he whispered against Dean's neck. "I am sorry for wanting to run away," he muttered.

"Shh," Dean held him close and caressed his back. "Let's just forget about it. You are here, and that's all that matters. Okay?" Cas nodded into his neck. "Good. Now, if you'll just help me up, I need to sleep and so do you. We have to be at the garage in" he checked the clock in the hallway, it was 2.00 AM, "in six and a half hours. And we both need to get some sleep at least."

Cas nodded and whimpered as the warm body holding him started pulling away. "Dean," he whispered. Dean hummed. "Stay with me tonight?"

Dean looked at him, unsure of how to answer. "Okay," he finally replied. "But no shenanigans. I'm a gentleman and I follow the third date rule to T."

Cas grinned. "Have you ever been on a third date, Major?" he asked cheekily, the emotionally charged atmosphere suddenly clear.

"No," Dean replied with a straight face. "But you are worth the wait."

Cas smiled and finally finally kissed his boyfriend.

-x-X-x-

Their third date came rather unexpectedly, didn't turn out like anything they'd expected and was probably one of the best nights of Dean's life.

It happened about 10 days after they confessed their feelings towards each other. It had been just another, quiet night at the bar where Dean was playing something, and Cas had taken over Carmen's shift because she was too far along to move between people carrying loaded plates or glasses, but it still hadn't stopped her from coming to the bar and gossiping with Ellen and Jo.

Just as Dean got down from the stage, he was hounded by a couple of "Dean Girls", as Jo liked to call them, and found to chagrin that they were students in "Cas' School of Personal Boundaries" because they absolutely refused to budge away from him. He turned to look around, hoping to catch Cas' eye, because he had found out only a couple of days ago, that Cas made a great bodyguard, thanks to a very public altercation involving a girl named Mackenzie, that would have ended badly for everyone involved, if Dean hadn't rushed in and pulled him down in a kiss setting matters straight once and for all. He couldn't find Cas or Jo, but he did see Carmen holding on to the counter with one hand, clutching at her stomach with the other.

A sudden dread shot through him as he thought of the last time he had seen someone looking like that. His instincts kicked in, as he all but pushed those girls aside and found himself wheeling towards her, yelling for Cas at the top of his lungs. Thankfully, Ellen reached her before either of them could, took one look at her and the mess of blood and plasma at her feet, proclaimed the place was closed before ushering her and Ash and Jo out, leaving Dean and Cas to close up for the night.

They took their own sweet time, shooing out last of the customers and clearing everything up, gorging on the leftovers in the huge kitchen, that made Cas' eyes shine like a kid in a free-for-all candy store, before loading the large industrial dishwashers and finally locking the place up. It was only after Dean had climbed into driver's seat, that it hit him.

"That…" he said, looking strangely at the dark place behind them "that was our third date."

"Yes, I'm well aware," Cas replied, grinning cockily, eyes already darkening with lust. "Are you planning to stay here all night? Coz I got me a giant bed back home," he flicked a thumb behind shoulder "that hasn't seen action in a very long time."

"Oh God, Cas," Dean groaned as his eyes followed Cas' hand hovering over his crotch.

"C'mon, Major. You gonna make a guy wait?" Cas asked seductively licking his lips. Dean groaned again and pulled out.

The ride home was a blur at best. Dean parked in the garage, and Cas jumped down, literally yanking the keys away from him and opening the house door, and tearing off his shirt, before Dean was even on the flat ground. As soon Dean slammed the car door behind him, Cas appeared again, wearing only his jeans, unceremoniously plucked Dean off his wheelchair and carried him inside the house, directly into their – previously Cas' – bedroom before dumping him on the bed and slipping out of his pants and underwear. Then he helped Dean out of his clothes – which really consisted of ripping his shirt open and throwing it away like a dirty rag, then yanking off his jeans and boxers, which Dean had helpfully unbuttoned, and chucking them away as well – before collapsing on top of him. And finally finally found his lips.

The kiss they shared was nothing like any other they'd ever shared. There had been quite a few intense kisses in the past, but this one was insanely, searingly hot. Tongue and teeth clacked over each other, as both fought for what they believed, they knew, was rightfully theirs. At some point, Dean may have even tasted the blood, but he didn't care. He whimpered when Cas pulled the tongue out of his mouth and started sucking on his earlobe, licking a straight cold line to his jaw. He held onto Cas, finger nails digging into his back, as Cas sucked at his throat, bit at the pulse point in his neck, hips bucking up meet Cas' thrusts as Cas whispered sweet nothings in his ear.

He shut his eyes, as he felt Cas' hand move towards his erection, eagerly waiting for the first touch. Then Cas murmured, "Oh God, Major. You're so hot right now. I'm gonna take care of you, Major. I'm gonna take real good care of you…"

And just like that his mind shut-off. He was back on the rack, strapped naked, Alistair, Yellow Eyes and bunch of other guys leering at him, Gabe lying in the corner bloodied, bruised, as Alistair reached his cold bony fingers towards him taunting "Gonna take care of you, major. Gonna take ree-yal good care of you." Then his mother cradling baby Sammy singing "Hey Jude", whispering "angels are watching over you", lying in the hospital bed as he hugged her for the last time, waiting for that blinding pain, the involuntary screams that he couldn't control no matter how hard he tried… He acted on pure instinct. His hands were free, made stronger by testosterone and pure adrenaline rushing through his veins. He reached forward and pushed with all his might, yelling "Get off me. Get off me you sick fuck. Get off me."

He reached his hand over his head and grabbed at something soft and fluffy. He didn't care what it was. Right now, it was the only thing protecting him. He started moving away from his attacker, using his hands for support. He had no legs. They had taken away his legs so he couldn't escape. But he would. Even if the angels had given up on him… he wouldn't let Alistair win. He kept repeating the mantra over and over as he toppled off the side off the bed and started moving towards the darkest corner he could find, barely registering that he wasn't in the cage, he was in his house, safe. He squeezed himself in the small space between the dresser and his wardrobe, pressing the pillow tightly to his crotch, and took large gulps of air to calm down his heart.

Once the brain fog cleared, he took in his surroundings. It wasn't the cage, it was his bedroom. The man standing before him, naked and with severely a mortified look on his face, wasn't Alistair, it was Cas, the man he loved. There was wet, dark line on the carpet, from the side of the bed right to his ass, and he realised he was sitting in some sticky and warm… Pee! He was sitting in his own pee. He looked down at the pillow, not daring to look at the man he had hurt so badly, tears forming silently as Alistair's cruel words ringed in his ears, "You'll never rid of me, Dean. We are too alike you and me. Don't fight it, major, accept it. Wherever you are, whenever you are, I'll always be with you."

And Dean had fought it. Again and again, with everything he had. But he had lost. Alistair had finally won. Even five years later, even thousands of miles away, even in the arms of that one person he felt the safest with, Alistair had found him. Found him and taken away his haven. Alistair was right. He wasn't strong enough. If he couldn't protect himself, how the hell would he protect those he loved? He sat there staring at his pillow, as if it would offer him some answers… something… anything.

Then Cas moved, fast… swift… with perfect precision of a seasoned soldier. He was down on his knees and lifting Dean up, pillow and all, and moving towards bathroom, not caring that he was naked with half an erection or the man he was carrying his arms was leaking all over him. All he knew was he had to get Dean clean, warm, safe. He never wanted to see Dean like this ever again.

He almost kicked the bathroom door open and set him down in the tub, before turning on the lights. Dean was still holding onto his pillow, staring at it in a near catatonic state. He crouched down beside the tub, and gently pried it from his hands, they fell away without complaint, and threw it towards the open door. He would take care of it later. Right now, Dean needed him. He turned on the shower to hot, and held it over Dean's waist, then moving towards his legs, letting the water wash away the excrement. It was only when he reached back to his stomach and started moving upwards that Dean reached forward and stopped his hand. He looked up to find Dean looking at him, a blank, lost expression on his face. "What are you doing here, Cas?" he asked.

"Washing you," Cas replied trying his dammest to lighten the mood, even though he knew it wasn't possible. He had always maintained that "a good sense of humour dissipates all problems." Nicky had taught him that. He forced himself to smile, for Dean's sake, even though all he wanted to do was hold him and never let him go. "Unless you are into kinky stuff," he added.

Dean lips turned up a little at that, but his eyes still had the same haunted expression. "What are you doing here, Cas?" he asked again. "Here, with me?" he added.

Cas knew this question was coming ever since Dean had first asked him "why are you still here?" and he had been praying that it never came. What could he say was the real reason he was here? The real reason, he had been travelling for the past two years. He had wanted to tell it to Dean on the first day, but he never had the courage. He didn't have courage now, either. He had offered another answer then. He offered another one now. "Because I love you," he replied, hoping it would be sufficient.

"Why?" Dean asked a little louder, the grip on his arm tightening. "Why do you love me? Me? What have I to offer you… an angel… so beautiful… I'm just a broken shell of a man. Why are you staying with me, Cas?"

"Because I want to," Cas replied his voice calm, strong. He had never had to justify why he loved someone, and with Dean, he didn't want to. He didn't want to tell the truth. Not now, not like this. "Because I love you. More than anything. Because you are kind and warm and generous and the best thing that has ever happened to me in my lonely sad pathetic little life."

"Best, huh?" Dean glared at him, his eyes blazing, voice on the verge of explosion. "You call this best? This...this...this thing we have... you really think it's the best thing that happened to you? What do you know about me? You have barely known me for month. I'll tell you how best," he spat the word. "I am. I am cranky… no! Scratch that. I'm a fuckin' dormant volcano waiting to blow up. I'm paranoid and depressed and suicidal. I'm an alcoholic and I drink till I can't fuckin' feel anything. I scream myself hoarse every night AND WAKE UP WITH MY BED SHEETS COVERED IN SWEAT AND PEE BECAUSE," he gestured angrily at his legs, "I'M NOT EQUIPPED TO RUN TO THE BATHROOM IN TIME. IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT TO AWAKE UP TO EVERYDAY?"

"Well, we could always change the sheets," Cas replied, trying to lighten the mood and calm him down.

But Dean just kept going. "You think if you look past the wheelchair, you're going to see rainbows and candycanes? NO! I AM AS BROKEN ON THE INSIDE AS I'M ON THE OUTSIDE!"

"Dean…" Cas found his voice. "Dean… please just…"

"I can't Cas…" he said dejectedly, his voice suddenly falling to a whisper. "I am lost and I am tired. I can't fight anymore. Please Cas… please… have mercy on me. Just go away. Find someone who'll make you happy. Give you everything I can't. You deserve it. But please... just… just let me be..."

"NO!" Cas replied, his voice even, unwavering. "No, I won't leave you alone. And No, I won't go away. I am here because I want to be here. Because I've always wanted to be here. With you."

"Cas…" Dean started, but Cas held up his hand and silenced him.

He stood up, shut off the water, replaced the hand shower, and sat on the edge of the tub, rubbing his face. "Let me get it out. I may not be able to work up the courage again," he replied. He took a deep breath. "When you first asked me why I was here, I didn't exactly tell you truth. Or rather, I told only half the truth."

"Cas?" Dean murmured and Cas looked to curiosity… confusion… conflict in his face.

He swallowed dryly. "It's true I didn't have any place to be. But it wasn't that I didn't have any place to go. I had a definite destination. I was looking for someone," he said not breaking the eye contact. "I was looking... for you. I was looking for you because I was in love with you."

"But you didn't even know me," Dean interjected.

"Not really. Only on paper. When I got you out, you kept calling me angel. An Angel, Major, that's what you called me. I was there when they cleaned you up and administered basic first-aid. You held onto me with all your strength… bloodied, bruised and dying and you were holding onto me, like I was the only thing keeping you alive. I had never had even anyone who had held me like that… made me feel so important… wanted… not since Nicky. And then you smiled, it was sudden, unexpected, like you were thinking about some joke only we shared. And I… couldn't tear my eyes away from you. All I wanted to do was keep you safe, make sure you never suffered like that ever again. When they lifted you and shipped you back here, I couldn't control the pang of regret that I may have lost the only good thing that had ever happened to me."

"I sought you, out. When I returned to US, six months after we found you, I went to the hospital. I saw you… bandages, stitches… you looked like Frankenstein's Monster." Dean huffed a laugh. "But you weren't alone. You were cradling a baby, cooing to it, and a tired-looking blonde woman was looking at you like you meant the world to her. Dee and Jess," he clarified "And I thought what any normal person would think. Your wife and kid. So I just left."

He looked back at Dean, and found another expression on his face. Recognition. "The hobo," he said. "You're the hobo with freakish blue eyes, aren't you? The one who left me that amulet."

"Genesius of Rome," Cas admitted. "Patron saint of comedians and…" he said placing a hand on his chest "torture victims." He smiled sadly. "Sad, isn't it? How those two are related?"

"And when I was discharged, I had no place to go. And all I could think about was you. How you had held on to me and called me angel. I figured… even if you were straight, and married… maybe just being around you, being your friend… I could have everything I'd lost…" he swiped a hand across his eyes wiping away the tears before they began to form. "And when Sam told me you were bi— I guess I got a little greedy. Saw my chance and had to take it. That night we had that fight about the phone, I thought I would lose you all over again."

"You are my everything, Major. I can't even think of a life without you. How could I ever think about leaving you?" he said softly on the verge of tears.

Dean moved forward and pulled him close. "Cas," he said softly. "It won't be easy. You saw what happened today. I can't promise it won't happen again. I love you, I trust you but what happened there… it's gonna stay with me forever."

"Maybe," Cas replied slowly pulling back, and cupping his cheek. "But we'll get through it. We'll defeat him together. I'll be with you all the way, as long as it takes. I waited four years, I don't mind waiting a few more. I'd rather burn in hell with you, than find heaven without you."

Dean smiled and pulled him closed. "Is that line from some cheesy Julia Roberts movie?"

"Na… I made it up all by myself," Cas retorted. "Now move over. I smell like someone peed on me."

Dean shifted a little and let Cas share the tub with him. That was the day he realised he was completely, utterly and madly in love with this blue-eyed angel.