AN: Again thanks to candy for not only being a great beta but for making Crowley sound british, too :)

It was cozily warm, the smell of… of love and caring filled his nostrils. A steady hand resting heavily on his hip. A leg was squeezed between his thighs, firmly pressing against his groin, making his morning wood happily pulse in anticipation. Without thinking, Dean moved his hips, thrust once, twice at the body next to him before finally his brain kick started and prevented him from… Dammit! Dean hastily moved away from Castiel, unintentionally pulling the blanket off, exposing the Angel to the cool air while his feet got caught up in the comforter. He had overestimated the width of the small bed, suddenly there was no mattress under his butt and with flailing arms Dean landed on the floor, still partly entangled in the blanket but much less covered than he would have liked.

"Dean…?" Deep blue eyes, still a bit sleepy, looked at him and then started roaming over his supine body. He tried to hide the still prominent bulge in his boxers in vain. The damn blanket was half way buried under his own ass; he could not simply turn away since Castiel was lying on another corner of the comforter, and putting his hands over his crotch would just draw the Angel's attention to that part of Dean's anatomy. With a groan he started untangling his feet from the unyielding blanket.

"Dean? Did I… did I shove you?"

"No, Cas. This bed is just not built for two grown men. Sorry for waking you. Go back to sleep, okay?"

With a slight moan Castiel let his head fall back onto the pillow as Dean finally succeeded in disentangling himself from the comforter. He swiftly put on his jeans wondering at what point he had undressed - he could not remember shedding his pants for the life of him. When Dean sat down on the bed, fully clothed again, Castiel was still awake.

"How're you feelin', Cas?" He had a long and close look at his friend while waiting for him to answer. Castiel was still way too pale but there were no longer lines of pain etched into his face. The slightly flushed cheeks hopefully meant only fever and not that he knew about Dean unceremoniously dry humping his helpless, sleeping form.

"Better." After a moment of silence Castiel added softly, "Thank you, Dean, for keeping me warm."

"No sweat…" He felt heat rise to his face and, not wanting the Angel to see him blushing, he stood up and made a few steps towards the door. "I'm gonna check out what we'll have for breakfast. If you need anything, holler."

~*~

As soon as Dean had left the room Castiel, closed his eyes again. He was still exhausted, but the restful sleep had helped restore a bit of his power. He carefully tapped into it, measured the amount needed to heal his stab wound and began to calculate. It would leave him drained and weak for hours if he fixed his latest injury but after another extended rest he would be less of a burden again. Castiel was even positive he had warded off the church enough that such small display of Grace would not alarm his kin to his current whereabouts.

Speaking of… Slowly he expanded his angelic senses, scanning his surroundings. He noticed the strong aura of Dean, the somewhat tainted colors of Sam. The sharp and edged feeling of Bobby's seasoned being. There was a man full of devotion and commitment - quite likely the priest. And… and another entity. A dark - nearly black - shade of purple, stained with the spiky scent of sulphur. Marbled with rich red streaks, the color of fresh blood, glittering and shining like liquefied rubies. A demon. A demon he had become acquainted with over the course of the last millennias. Crowley.

The detection of Crowley was enough to convince Castiel to attempt to heal himself. He did not want the demon to see him like this. Weak. Hurt. Bleeding. Human. He took a deep breath. Slowly let his ribs expand despite the aching, newly mended cracks - breathing out quickly turned into a hearty yawn he was not able to stifle. Cautiously, he let his Grace expand, touch the injured flesh and encourage his vessel's cells to start mending. A gentle nudge here, a careful tug there and bit by bit, excruciatingly slowly, he felt the wound becoming smaller. New, pink skin stretching over fresh tissue.

A rush of nausea and vertigo threatened to drown Castiel just as he was about to fold his Grace back away. He genuinely hoped he had succeeded in concealing his angelic energy once again before darkness claimed him.

~*~

"Why, again, should we trust you?" Dean asked, munching on a donut - a donut Crowley had brought, but that wasn't the point. Besides, if the Demon wanted him dead he would have had enough opportunities to end him till now.

"Perhaps because I gave you the Colt? Or perhaps because I got your sorry arses back to your motel room afterwards? Oh, or perhaps because I helped rescuing your pet Angel from the other feather-brains? And perhaps because I locked the feathery overlord away and got you both here in time to save your friend's arse again?"

"Wait. What Angels did you help rescue Castiel from?" Sam asked before Dean could say anything else.

"The ones that tortured him? The ones that carved him up and used his skin as a scroll? The ones that bound his Grace to this meagre excuse of a vessel? You didn't really think there have been no other guards down there? The two demons you scraged were the last two surviving. The others died killing the bloody Angels that had captured your friend."

"Oh..." Sam looked at Dean with raised eyebrows. But his brother just asked a question of his own.

"You said you locked Zach up? You mean, you banished him, right?"

"No. I said locked away because I meant locked away. He will surely be back but it might take some time."

"You'll have to show me that trick..." Dean grinned cockily.

"Sure, but you'd have to have a demon willing to sacrifice himself at hand," Crowley answered with a grin of his own, his voice smug and full of sarcasm. "So, we're okay now?"

"I'm still not sure if we should trust you," Bobby finally said. "But as for now, I'd say we'll hear you out."

"Hear... hear me out?!" Crowley looked at the old hunter exasperatedly. "Ten of my people died only in the last few days trying to keep your sorry little group alive and you...!"

"Calm down. The last demon one of us trusted got him all hooked up on demon blood and made him free the damn Devil himself!"

Sam blushed at Bobby's words and studied the floor beneath his feet thoroughly. He had still no idea how to even start apologizing. They had been dancing around this topic for days now, never speaking directly about it. Just once, immediately after they had fled Saint Mary's, Dean had asked whether Sam was craving demon blood and needed to be locked up again. But somehow this last display of power had left him dry like the Sahara. There was nothing left inside of him, every last trace burned out and no withdrawal at all. Having rubbed his failure now into his face again was something Sam would have liked to avoid.

"True words," Crowley nodded.

"So, you've got a plan? 'Cause I ain't gonna believe you just showed up now to bring Dean donuts!" Bobby said, his arms crossed in front of his chest, shooting the older Winchester a disapproving look as the younger man proceeded to stuff his fifth piece of pastry into his mouth.

"Okay, no more small talk, I guess," Crowley shrugged still looking way too smug for Dean's liking. "I'd like to take a look at the inscription first." After he was met with frowns and confusion he added, "The inscription on the Angel's skin."

~*~

Dean refused to let the demon near Castiel as long as his friend was still asleep. Noon had long passed and afternoon slowly started to become evening, when finally the Angel stirred. To say Dean was worried would have been a vast understatement. As he noticed his friend's eyelids fluttering, he sighed in genuine relief.

"Cas, dammit. Don't ever pull a stunt like this on me again!"

Bleary eyes blinked at him before the Angel whispered in a raw voice, "I am sorry. Healing the stab wound drained me more than I had anticipated."

Dean nodded wordlessly, too many emotions raging under the surface for him to trust his voice. He had already noticed the fresh, pink and shiny skin stretching across the Angel's stomach instead of an angry red injury earlier when he had wanted to re-dress the wound.

"Cas... don't get all worked up, okay? But we... We kinda have a demon outside that just wants to talk. He helped..."

"Crowley," Castiel interrupted him, his voice calm as ever.

Dean nodded slowly. His friend must have overheard them talking in the Navis. After all, angelic senses were obviously still superior even if the Angel in question was hurt. Dean studied his friend closely. He was still too pale, dark rings of exhaustion under his eyes, cheeks flushed from the fever. But he could no longer see pain dulling the clear blue depths of his eyes. Although tired, he seemed alert again. Alert enough to let a possibly plotting demon near him?

"I assume he is waiting, Dean. One doesn't let Crowley wait."

The hunter frowned. Did Castiel know the demon?

"Please help me sit up. And I would prefer being fully dressed again."

~*~

Getting Castiel dressed proved to be more difficult than anticipated. It wasn't that the Angel didn't help - in fact Dean had to stop him keeling over to one side twice because his eagerness had gotten him more than just a bit dizzy. No, it was solely Dean's fault.

He marveled at Castiel's (Jimmy's) smooth skin, wanted to kiss that frown from his face, let the soft dark hair covering his chest and belly tickle over the palms of his hands (and boy, there was a lot of hair), follow it down, towards the distinguished happy trail, down, even more south...

Dean gathered his thoughts right in time to look away as he helped Castiel into fresh underwear (the guy had went commando under the old pair of sweat pants - who the heck had dressed him? Dean couldn't remember it anymore, but thinking proved to be a bit more difficult than usual when enough blood was rushing south to make his jeans suddenly too tight).

Castiel stretched a bit, helping Dean getting a new tee over his head - oh, those sharp hip bones, that begged him to lick their angled edges... With an annoyed groan he shoved those thoughts away. He was not gay. Okay, Doctor Sexy was sexy, but... Actually... Okay, perhaps he swung both ways, whatever. But why was he getting the hots for Cas now, after the guy had been around for an entire year?!

With another sigh he helped his friend pull the shirt down and noticed with a smirk that Cas' hair was even more ruffled than usual. With the borrowed, slightly too big clothes and his sex-hair (ugh, sex-hair? Had his brain suddenly turned into a 14 year old fan girl's?) the Angel looked just adorable. Hastily Dean erased the fond smile from his lips before anybody would notice it. Damn. He was so screwed.

~*~

Sam waited patiently while Dean was inside the priest's chamber. Father Ignatius had been extremely quiet except for a small chat directly after Sam had woken up. Obviously, he wasn't as spooked as he should have been considering the fact that a bunch of demons had tried to sacrifice an Angel inside his church just yesterday. But the priest kept shooting glances towards Crowley. Not exactly fearful but cautious, estimating looks, as if he wasn't sure what to think of a hell spawn who claimed he was on their side, who said he wanted to kill the Devil. Sam could definitely understand where father Ignatius was coming from.

At one point, his thoughts wandered back to the scene he had stumbled into inadvertently this morning. His brother snuggled up to Castiel. They had both looked so… peaceful… at ease... carefree. Of course he had noticed the longing looks they used to shoot each others when they thought nobody was watching. The tension between those two had always been nearly tangible, and more than once Sam had suspected that maybe there was more to Dean and Castiel than just plain friendship. It looked like he had been right.

Finally the door opened, and a flustered Dean led them in. Sam wondered what those two had been doing in there while they had been waiting outside but those thoughts were forgotten as soon as everybody had entered the small chamber.

Castiel was dressed in one of Dean's trousers (the one with the hole in the right knee), a maroon t-shirt and a plain, dark grey button down – and all three pieces of clothing were clearly too big for his lithe frame. He still looked ill and tired but when his eyes turned to Crowley there was suddenly something hard and deadly in them that reminded Sam of his otherworldliness.

In the blink of an eye, Castiel was standing in front of the demon, crowding him. One hand was fisting Cowley's expensive suit and lifting him in the air, pressed up against the wall while Castiel put his other hand, fingers outstretched, on the demon's forehead. Sam had seen this modus operandi before – the Angel was about to burn the demon out of his meat suit. Crowley must have come to the same realization as his eyes were suddenly frantically searching for an escape. But nothing happened. Nothing other than Castiel swaying a bit. A heart beat later Crowley was in full control of the situation again.

~*~

Castiel gathered his power to exorcize the demon Crowley and willed the hell spawn away from this plane of existence. Heat rushed through his body, down his outstretched hand towards the palm sprawled over the other vessel's forehead. The hot feeling mixed with cold, burning and numbing his senses at the same time. It felt different, wrong. Something icy spread from the base of his head and in that moment Castiel realized that he had made a mistake. He was no longer able to use his Grace to burn away demons - at least demons as powerful as Crowley. And now he was going to faint. In front of Crowley. This was a humiliation he would have gladly avoided.

The impact came suddenly and surprised Castiel as he had not noticed his body – his vessel – moving. His head bounced off the wall once and dark fog filled his vision. The colors grew darker, the entire world had a purple tinge, as Dean's face appeared directly in front of his. The other man's mouth moved but without actual words coming out, Castiel had time to marvel at the sight. He liked Dean's mouth. He liked it when it pouted, he liked it when it opened to speak. He loved to watch it devouring food, but his favorite sight was Dean's mouth when it smiled. Which it sadly wasn't doing right now. Its corners were turned down and the face attached to this mouth looked worried, too.

~*~

"Cas! Dammit! Cas? Do you hear me? Talk to me, buddy!" Dean was hovering over Castiel but his friend just blinked dazedly. Still kneeling next to the Angel on the bed, he turned around enough to shoot Crowley an livid look. "What the fuck did you do? Why did you have to fling him across the room, for fuck's sake?!"

Crowley was still standing pressed against the wall where Castiel had tried to banish him only seconds earlier, but now Sam was crowding him, the demon-killing knife at the shorter man's throat.

"He attempted to exorcize me. I was just defending myself. Now come on, remove this bloody knife and let me talk to hotspurt there before he does something equally daft. Like killing himself with another display of his 'Heavenly Powers'!"

~*~

The next thing Castiel knew was that something cool and liquid was in his mouth. He half sputtered the water out, half swallowed it down as he tried to gulp in air. Somebody was pressing a glass to his mouth, letting more of the clear water run into his mouth. This time Castiel managed to swallow most of it.

Dean.

Dean was supplying him with water.

Why was he half way lying in the hunter's lap?

His back supported by one of the man's strong arms while the other one was holding the now empty glass.

How did he end up…

Crowley!

He forced himself upright again and tried to stand up to lurch towards the demon, murder in his eyes again, as a hand on his arm stopped him.

"Cas! Knock it off. He's not here to kill us. He's here to help. Now sit down before you fall to the floor again." Dean seemed angry. Angry because he had tried to kill a demon? With a confused frown he let his friend lead him back towards the small bed again.

"Nice to meet you again, Castiel," the demon said with a smug grin.

"Crowley," he nodded in reply.

"Looks like we have another tie to add to our score."

Before Castiel could answer, Dean stated, somewhat baffled, "Wait! You two know each other?"

This time Crowley nodded in reply. "How long has it been? When did you try to kill me for the first time?"

"Two thousand years?"

Still smiling, the demon turned to Dean again and answered, "Your mate has unsuccessfully tried to end my existence for at least the last two thousand years. So, yes, I'd say we know each other."

"Mate?! No, no no no, he is definitely not my partner!" Dean was quick to deny. Castiel felt a sharp pain inside his heart at his friend's words.

"Actually, I didn't want to imply anything, but now… I think you are right, there is some kind of connection between the two of you. Considering how you got all cosy during the night…"

"Crowley…" Castiel growled. He wanted nothing more than to rip the demon to small shreds using just his own – his vessel's – own hands.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. Last time you tried to kill me it took me about two hundred years 'till I was in form again."

Castiel nodded. "It took about the same time for me to recover fully." He could recall their last encounter quite vividly. It had ended in a really nasty fight with half a town destroyed. Of course Uriel had been there, too. The main part of the destruction had been his doing. However…

"So, I'd say we call a truce and you let me take a look at those symbols on your body."

With a sigh Castiel pulled up his shirt.