Author's Note: I've been feeling really motivated to complete this fic by the end of this month or by the very beginning of August. Because of this quest, next chapter will be posted tomorrow. Enjoy!

Castiel's heart was beating so hard and fast, it was a miracle the artery hadn't ruptured. He watched numbly as Dean asked a distraught Charlie what was wrong, the boy's smooth and velvet voice his only anchor in this warped, blessed fantasy that had just turned into reality. He kissed me, the realization was howled in his mind like a blessed hymn, Dean Winchester kissed me. With shaky fingers, he brought his hand up and touched his swollen, damp lips to confirm the stupefying declaration.

He didn't hear what Charlie said in response to Dean—his other senses were blurred by the unbelievable altercation he'd just encountered; he only saw the lines of misery and exhaustion that marked Charlie's young face, only heard the bitterness and agony in her voice as she snapped back her reply. He felt Dean stiffen at her unheard response, but before the beautiful boy could reply, Charlie was gone—leaving him and Dean alone to deal with the aftermath of their passionate kiss. Slowly, Castiel turned to Dean and was shocked to find the boy trembling, his face naked with insecurity and shame.

"Dean," He said gently as he tentatively put his hand on the shaking boy's shoulder, his voice even deeper and raspier than normal, "Are you alright?" As soon as the hand landed on his shoulder, Dean started and jumped away, backing himself into a corner with wide, mortified green eyes. No, it was clear that Dean was not alright, and the thought made common sense bleed back into Castiel's brain.

"Dean," He said again, more nervous and unsteady than before, "What happened was—"

"I-It didn't happen," Dean declared shakily, looking on the verge to either puke or sob, "N-Nothing happened. Okay, Cas? Just—nothing." And just when Castiel thought his heart was finally put back together, it shattered apart again.

"W-What?" He said, desperation and panic seizing his body, "Dean, I-I..." He cleared his dry throat and calmed his quaking heart, "What did I do wrong?" He disappointed him; whatever Dean was looking for in that kiss, Castiel didn't have it. He failed. Again.

"You didn't do anything—I just..." Dean stopped himself, breaths coming faster and shallower by the second as he raked a hand through his hair and repeated, "Nothing happened. I'm not—I've never been..." His sentences were becoming more incoherent by the second, and Castiel started to become thoroughly concerned about his well-being.

"Calm down, D—" Castiel began, but the boy didn't wait for him to finish. He muttered out an illegible apology before bolting out the kitchen door.

Castiel stared at the wooden door long after it had closed. He wiped a tear that had spilled from his eye and licked his lips, the savory taste of Dean still lingering in his mouth. When he was sure he had a hold of himself, Castiel left the kitchen and scanned the quiet, thinning crowd for that familiar flash of red hair. He found Anna standing next to Garth sipping punch and laughing at something he said; it was a laugh he hadn't heard in a long time and didn't even know he missed.

"Cas," Her smile and cheerful tone dropped immediately at his expression, "Cas, what's wrong?"

"Take me home, Anna." Castiel whispered softly, fighting to keep a steady voice, "You were right, now just—take me home." He didn't lean away when she caressed his cheek, nor when she pulled him into her arms for a long, soothing embrace. In the familiarity of Anna's arms, Castiel could forget about the last few months, about how foolish he was not to realize that the boy who could reconstruct his whole world also had the power to destroy it.

When he finally pulled into his driveway and cut the engine of the Impala, all he could do was put his face in his hands and let out the shuddering sob that had been building in his throat ever since he left the Roadhouse. He couldn't be gay. What would everyone think? Fuck, what would his dad think? He always prided in his eldest son's manly, womanizing ways. How would he take it when he discovered his macho, straight-as-an-arrow son was a fag?

No, he wasn't gay. That thing with Cas was just a—a slip up. It was nothing more just the result of the heat of the moment. With shaky legs, he exited the Impala and stumbled into the house, hoping Sam had already gone to bed so he wouldn't have to face questions he just couldn't answer. He felt a faint surge of hope when he saw the living room dark and empty, but that was violently ripped from his grasp when the lights suddenly turned on, leaving him momentarily blind at the sudden change of illumination.

"Dean, Honey," Mary's concerned voice only made his trembling worsen, "Dean, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I don't wanna talk about it, Mom," Dean gritted out, turning his head pointedly so she wouldn't see his defeated expression, "I-I'm just going to bed."

Mary gave him a stern look, commanding firmly, "Dean Henry Winchester, you sit down and tell me what's the matter this instance."

Dean groaned and rubbed a hand over his face, "Fuck, Mom, can't you just leave me alone for one goddamn night?" He would never be that disrespectful to his mother, and Mary knew that. If anything, his request only made it clearer how truly fucked up he was.

She didn't bless him with a response as she slowly walked over and wrapped her arms around him, not saying anything but not really having to. He could feel all the messages she wanted to get across with that tight embrace: it's going to be okay, I love you, you don't have to talk about, I'll always be here for you no matter what. The last one broke him as he buried his face in her silky hair and croaked out hoarsely, "I kissed Cas, Mom. I-I'm sorry."

"Well, Sweetie, what's wrong with that?" Mary asked gently, pulling back slightly to look at him, "Did he not return the feeling, or—?"

"Didn't you hear me?" Dean said, furrowing his brow as he added louder and slower, "I. Kissed. Cas."

Mary just looked at him exasperatedly for a moment before saying in the same tone, "I got that part, Dean. Now tell me what went wrong."

"That's what went wrong!" He exclaimed, jerking himself out of her grasp as he turned his back to her, "Why aren't you freaking out? I just told you I might be gay, Mom. Doesn't that scare the shit out of you?"

"Well, no," She said after a short pause, and Dean felt the clenching grip around his heart loosen slightly, "Baby, I don't care which gender you love as long as you love them."

"What if I don't know if I love them though?" He demanded, spinning around to face her again with blazing green eyes, "What am I supposed to do then?"

"I don't expect you to know what love feels like at this age," Mary said with a quiet sigh, "All you need to find out is if Cas is special to you, so special that you feel more light and happy around him than anyone else—that you can't even fathom a life without him in it."

Dean paused, rolling her words over in his mind. He knew he always felt something different around Cas, like just his mere presence was making him a better person. He also knew that he'd go crazy without him and his useless facts and his bright blue eyes and every fiber of his magnificent being. But was that love? Dean couldn't say, and he didn't need to. Not yet. All he needed to know for certain was that he felt something for Cas—a rare, special feeling that boiled in his stomach and burned in his heart. The kind of feeling that Dean could stare at his face for the rest of eternity and still find small details about him that made him seem even more beautiful the kind of feeling that Dean would share his food with him without being forced to by his parents; the kind of feeling that would never dim whether Cas was sick or angry or not even breathing; the kind of feeling that Dean could give Castiel every part of himself and take all the parts of him in return with any doubt or regret.

He didn't know if that was love, and frankly he didn't want to at the moment. All he knew was that he felt something when he was around Castiel, and that "something" was deeper than just friendship.

"What about other people?" Dean demanded, his stomach twisting at the thought of anyone—especially the people he cared so much about—being disappointed in him for succumbing to these urges.

"If they truly cared for you, they won't give a rat's ass which person you love." Mary told him strongly before adding softly, "I'm not saying this will be easy, Dean. Believe it or not, even in this day and age, there are still some people who feel superior to others that are different. The world is beautiful, but it is also filled with hateful, ugly people. You'll encounter dirty looks, whispers behind your back, and disappointed glances. But don't let other people's flaws get in the way of your happiness. You understand, Dean?"

Dean found himself nodding, "Yeah, I, uh...I think I do."

When he put his keys back into his pocket and turned to the door, Mary creased her forehead in confusion and asked, "Dean, where are you going?"

"There's a few people I gotta see." He said, throwing a glance back at his mother, "I'll be back, Mom. I promise."

Mary hesitated before nodding, trusting her son to do the right thing, "Okay. Just try to come back before John gets home."

"About that," Dean said, glancing at the clock that read fifteen minutes after eleven, "Why are you home so early? I thought you and Dad weren't supposed to be home 'til midnight."

Mary sighed tiredly, becoming silent for a moment before she answered quietly, "Falling in love is easy. It's staying in love that's the hard part."

Dean's body stiffened, "Mom—"

"Your father and I will be fine, Dean," She told him, a sad smile on her lips, "We always are."

Dean nodded and disappeared out the door, leaving Mary with her battered heart and empty bed.

Dean thought he'd feel different once he accepted he was gay; like he was a whole new person or something. But as he drove down the road, he found himself still nodding along to Metallica and enjoying the power the Impala held in her rumbling engine like he always did. He still liked his leather jacket, and he still cared for his family more than his own well-being. He was still Dean; realizing he was gay didn't change who he was or what made up his character. If anything changed, it was his heart; it felt lighter, as if that buried secret had been weighing down it and preventing him from being who he truly was.

He parked in the driveway and slowly made his way to the door, his heart thundering in anxiousness as he knocked on the door. First, Dean had to share this with the one person who would potentially understand. Before he made everything right, he needed to get this secret off his chest. He needed to say it.

When the door opened, Dean was relieved to discover it was the person he needed to talk to.

"What is it, Dean?" Jo asked, leaning against the doorway with an exhausted expression, like all her spirit had drained from her body in that one night. Dean looked to the ground and took in a deep, long breath to soothe his buzzing nerves

"Jo," He said slowly, raising his gaze to meet hers, "I think I'm gay." Dean was afraid she was going to laugh in his face, thinking he was just joking. Or that she would slam the door and never talk to him again. Or smile politely before telling everyone else like every other student at their high school would. But she didn't do any of these things. Instead she let silent tears fall from her eyes and smiled sadly before jumping into his arms and muttering softly in his ear, "I think I am, too."

Author's Note: Next chapter will be much happier for Destiel and Charlie/Jo fans ;)

Remember: Follow, Favorite, Review. I received so much reviews last chapter, and I'm hoping that support won't go away. Please, feel free to tell me how I did with Dean's stereotypical gay freak out.