The next morning was a bitch. Dean stumbled out of his room at about half past eleven, the pounding of his head and the bitterness in his stomach urging him onwards towards the kitchen. What he needed was coffee. Coffee, a bagel, and some more whiskey. His fingers traced the smooth stone walls as he made his way down the hall.
The kitchen wasn't empty, and the Winchester paused in brief surprise. "Uh, hey, Cas."
"Dean." The angel turned and rose at the sight of the hunter. "You're … looking better." His words were accompanied by a nod of his head, and Dean moved towards the coffee pot with a small shrug. There was already a pot boiling, its black aroma creeping up through the air in the most delightful way. "I, uh, made coffee," Castiel put in helpfully when he saw the way Dean stopped beside the counter, momentarily taking in the sight before reaching for his mug. "I figured after what had transpired last night …"
Dean froze, heat flooding his cheeks. Last night? What had happened last night? All he remembered was that utter sense of failure at not finding Sam, and then there had been Cas' lips … shit. What had happened? "Uh, l-last night?" he stammered out, not turning to face the angel in fear of what would come out of that perfect mouth.
"Yes." The deep rumble in his voice carried a tinge of concern. "You don't remember? But I think you were onto something." Blue eyes burned into Dean's back, and the hunter blushed.
"I think we are hunting Dymanos. I looked into it after you went to bed."
Oh. Dymanos. "R-Really?"
"He's a nephilim who was born and raised in hell. He has all the strength of an angel and all the malicious intent of a demon." Deep-set lines darkened the angel's face as he relayed the gravity of their situation. "I looked into the mythology, and I'm convinced he is what we released when we opened the back door of hell."
"So you're telling that that this guy's behind that 7.0 earthquake? The wildfires in California?" Dean scoffed at the idea as he poured himself his coffee. "Really, Cas? The dude's a Frank Sinatra."
He turned to see Castiel nod, not quite understanding what he was getting at. "Yes. But he apparently has the temperament of his father."
"Wait wait. What? Father?"
"Lucifer."
"Awesome." Dean dropped down into the chair Castiel had previously been occupying. The seat was still warm, almost as warm as Castiel's skin; Dean couldn't place why, but the angel's touch always had a certain degree of unnatural heat. "You mean —"
"Yes."
"Any idea how to —"
"No."
"Awesome." The Winchester set his drink down and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes screwed close as he retreated into his thoughts, searching for anything that could possibly help. "Well, one thing's for certain. We need to get Sam back." He took a long drink of his coffee and stood up. "No matter what. You understand?"
"Of course." Castiel stepped closer, mouth half open as if there was something he wanted to say, and Dean felt his own mouth go dry as he watched how Castiel's tongue tucked itself against his bottom teeth before the angel's lips came back together. He looked up and their eyes met, green against blue, and it took Dean several seconds before he could even think about tearing his gaze away.
"Good," he finally got out. "I, uh, I guess I'll go take another look over those books, huh? Might catch something now that I'm sober." He reached down and picked up his coffee before he left the room, heat flushing his cheeks as he felt Castiel's gaze on his back. God dammit, why was he acting like some teen with his first crush? He was a grown man. Castiel wouldn't care. He was going to walk into that room and tell the angel how he felt. Someday.
Today was definitely not that day.
Α...Ω
A lead had taken them to Madison, Alabama. Sudden tornadoes and flash flooding, all of it over in an hour. Three dead. He and Cas had gone down to investigate, but the only thing they had gotten was the name of a psychic a state over from. After this travesty, local wiccan had been more than willing to spill with little persuasion necessary.
"We can reach Angela's by mid morning if we stop now." Castiel's low voice had Dean looking up. The angel was approaching, a cup of coffee in his hands from God-knows-where. Not near here, that's for damn sure. The hunter looked out over the moonlit lake, and his shoulders fell.
He accepted the drink from the angel without a word, swirling it agitatedly before taking a sip. "Yeah. Thanks, Cas."
"Of course, Dean." To the hunter's surprise, Castiel joined Dean in leaning on the hood of the car, blue eyes turning out over the lake. "We will find Sam," the angel promised quietly. "Your brother is strong, Dean. He'll be okay."
Dean felt Castiel's gaze fall on the side of his face, and he looked down at the ground below, the toe of his boot nudging a rock closer to another. "Yeah," he agreed, voice catching in his throat, and he swallowed in hope of making his voice sound stronger. "Yeah," he repeated. "I know. It's just … what if he isn't, Cas?" He tipped his head to quickly catch a look at the angel's face before he returned to staring at the ground. "He was always the better hunter, Cas. I mean, he should be the one hunting this son of a bitch down, not me. I — I can't do this without Sam, Cas. You know that. I can't do this on my own."
"Dean." A hand, so wonderfully and unnaturally warm, came to rest on his, and the hunter stiffened in surprise, head turning to see find Castiel's hand covering his. He could feel the angel's eyes on his face, and Dean looked up to meet his eyes. Something flickered through the those azure irises, a fleeting emotion that was gone as the angel reeled it back in, but it was there long enough for Dean to recognize it. He had seen how the eyebrows had turned upwards, how his eyes had softened as they studied his face. "You are not alone."
Dean barely heard the Castiel's words. He could feel the angel's heartbeat against his skin — his own raced right alongside it. "Yeah." His mouth felt dry, and the silence seemed to drag on as he searched for words: not just any words — the perfect words. He needed Castiel to understand. "Cas, I …"
I'm sorry for everything.
I need you.
I … I love you.
"Dean." Castiel quietly cut into Dean's thoughts, his hand tightening over his, and the Winchester watched as the angel's lips curved upwards ever so faintly, just the hint of a smile across his soft and worn face, but it was enough to put all of Dean's doubts to rest. "I know."