Castiel doesn't show up and Dean doesn't pray to him. Sam asked if they'd been meeting up for his "Anger Management." He was vague enough that Sam didn't question him further.

He found himself looking over his shoulder more than he'd admit.. listening for the rustle of feathers.

They got a few more cases under their belts and Dean was even able to take out a Ghoul without having a weird berserk episode. Almost three and a half weeks later and they're pulling into another random motel. Sheets stiff. Air conditioner touchy. Ugly motel art of a parrot in some jungle.

The evidence of his and Cas'..whatever you'd call what they'd done.. were all gone but not forgotten. He watched them go from fresh red to purple to yellow then fade. Dean thought they were oddly beautiful and now stupidly mourned their loss.

When he felt himself getting pent up, he tried to head it off by pinching his inner arm right where Cas left one of many reminders. When that stopped working, he started cutting. It never felt anywhere close to the same and only distracted him briefly. He sliced deep as he would dare into his flesh but it left him feeling more empty.

Lately he began to let his mind hover over bits he'd pushed down from that night. Cas' hand dragging down his neck. His.. well "him" pressed into his ass. His thumb rubbing circles in Dean's palm. A gentle contrast to the unyielding control.

Dean got into bed only to toss and roll until he fell into a fitful sleep.

He was screaming up at a grey sky. Trees thick overhead. There had been four but two was still enough. Two of them had caught him when he was still alone. No Benny. No Cas. Alone. Him and the monsters. No matter how many he took out, there was always another waiting just up ahead.

Each held an arm while they forced him against a tree. Bark dug into his back through the could hold him down without the other. They struggled to keep him captive and reach for their weapons. If he stopped fighting and gave into the exhaustion for a second, that'd be it. Something sharp and crude would be hacking him up. They'd probably start to eat him before he was cold and God if that wasn't the worst way he could imagine going.

He was so tired.

Tensing his numb muscles for one last hoorah, he pulled his left arm towards his body. The shorter one was still attached to it and scrambled to reach for its weapon but Dean dove forward to latch onto it's cheek with his blunt teeth. He kept biting down until his teeth clicked together and he ripped back to spit out the hunk of meat. The one on his right was raising back it's arm to stab..

His eyes flew open and he scrambled under his pillow for his gun. The dark confused him for a minute but he's ready to take out the first thing that moves.

Sudden weight landing on top of him forces him back down on the mattress. He wasn't able to grab his weapon because his wrist was pinned. A firm hand covers his mouth, blocking the hysterical, outraged scream that was working its way out of his throat.

"Dean!" He hears from right above him. Quiet but forceful. This was Cas above him. Cas fighting to keep him sane. Of course it was.

He still tastes blood in his mouth from that creature and almost gags.

"Breathe."

His eyes finally focus on the steady blue ones. He tenses and tries to swallow back down the crazy enough to nod. It's lucky Cas wears so many layers or he'd have deep bloody ruts in his arms where his fingers had been scratching wildly.

Cas watches his face for a few seconds before he moves his hand away from his mouth.

Dean follows his gaze as he turns to the other bed about ten feet away. Sam is still dead to the world, facing the door. What seemed too loud and jarring to be contained had in actuality been stifled before it could become explosive. Cas reigning in his insanity. Again.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly from about an inch above his face. He hasn't let go of the wrist that is nearest the gun.

Dean resists the reflex to shove Cas off him. "I'm fine," he heaves.

Cas tilts his head skeptically. "You were not 'fine' thirty seconds ago."

If Dean's honest, he's pretty fucking far from fine. The fat vein in his neck is pulsing and he has to fist his free hand in the blanket underneath him to keep still.

"I'll be-" He's shivering. "I'll be-"

Can't get enough air.

"Dean. Be quiet." Cas orders calmly.

Dean closes his eyes at the command in his deep voice and grasps at it weakly.

Cas shifts to grab both his wrists now and presses Dean down under his body.

Checking that Sam is still not moving, he allows the feeling of helplessness to spill over him. Let's Cas have the control willingly.

"Listen to me."

Dean's still gasping.

"You're not in Purgatory. Sam is asleep next to you."

Dean latches on to the rough voice as a lifeline. Cas coat is cocooning him and he focuses on that thought too. He tries really hard not to feel like a weak bitch.

"You're safe. Breathe."

The frantic tension finally pulls back slowly. He's pushing out breaths deep and even.

He opens his eyes and Cas is there. He hadn't had time before to notice he had an angel sitting on his thighs when he was practically hyperventilating, but now he is more than aware.

The hands on his wrists tighten like a spasm. Cas must have felt him hardening in his boxers with them being so close. There's nowhere to look be right at his widened eyes as they turn a little darker. It's too fucking hot all of the sudden.

Cas hasn't moved and is staring down at him when Dean feels Cas thickening in his own slacks. They both know it. This is probably when Cas will fly off. Dean's back to factory settings and no longer a danger to the public.. but then he sees Cas bite on his own bottom lip. Cas' hips had rocked just a fraction forward and his eyes almost close as they brush together.

Dean is so turned on he could lose it from that image alone. Castiel.. mighty soldier and Angel of the Lord. who wrote the book on repressed emotional responses.. is worrying his lip and letting his eyes roll back.

He can't help bucking upwards into the pressure. He bounces a little into the bed with the force of Cas rolling forward against him in return. Jesus Fuck. How is this feeling so amazing? They both still have clothes on.. well kinda. His cock might be outside his thin boxers now with all their rutting. He's not entirely sure. They're so close together. He can barely keep a thought in his head when Cas is rubbing against the line of his body like a goddamn cat.

Cas rests his forehead against Dean's. Wrists pressed down so hard on either side of his head that they're numb. Dean bent his knee and Cas' dick was perfectly slotted to slide against his. Cas pants against his cheek. Eyes closed tight. Dean arching up harder. Harder.

"Dean.." Cas moans low in his ear.

"Dean?" The other mattress creaked near the door and Sam calls "What is it?" obviously half awake.

The weight disappeared before Sam even rolled over.

He gasps at the ceiling, dazed and frustrated, where his very man-shaped friend had been just grinding above him a minute ago.

He tries not to yell his internal "FUCK!" out loud.

He forces out a reply. "Sorry, Sammy. Just a nightmare."

"You alright?" he's asks to his pillow.

"Yeah. Go back to sleep."

Dean gets up to go in the bathroom. He shuts the door and leans against it. His dick is harder than he can ever remember. He imagines if his brother had stayed asleep for another minute.. two tops. He's shaking from how close they were both to.. When he comes he's thinking of how Cas had moaned his name so deep right in his ear.

Cas was becoming an addiction.

Author's Note: Many thanks to all those that comment, favorite or follow me. Much love to you all!