"So let me get this straight," said Sam. "You woke up in a motel room? Naked?"
"Sammy, what did I say?" Dean snapped.
"Hey, man, no judgement, I'm just making sure I heard you right."
"Fine," Dean replied tersely.
"So…"
"And then he came out of the bathroom."
"Also naked?"
"I mean, we were wearing underwear," Dean mumbled defensively.
"And then what?" Sam said as calmly as he could, despite being filled to the brim inside with excited, girly screaming.
"There was the huge storm outside, it sounded like a hurricane. The radio was playing Stairway, which is how I knew I was dreaming. And then…" Dean trailed off, running his hand through his sandy hair. "And then it just happened." Dean cast his eyes down and started fiddling with the hem of his shirt nervously.
Sam craned his neck forward, eyebrow raised. "What happened Dean?"
I can't believe I'm doing this, thought Dean. He cleared his throat. "He, uh, approached me and, uh, he told me he wanted to show me what kind of man I was. And then we just, collided."
"Collided?" Sam repeated, confused.
"Jesus Christ, Sam! Do I need to spell it out for you?" We were hot and heavy! One goddamn game away from the tonsil hockey championships, okay?"
Sam just stared a moment, and then only said one word. "Whoa."
"Whoa is right, brother. Whoa is goddamned right."
They sat quietly for a while, Sam trying to wrap his head around what he'd just heard, Dean experiencing a strange feeling of relief after admitting something he had previously never, ever thought he'd say. He felt looser, more comfortable. He leaned forward in his chair and continued, "but here's the weird thing, Sammy-"
"That wasn't the weird thing?"
Dean continued, choosing to ignore the remark. "It wasn't Cas. It was, I dunno, Anti-Cas? It was just something my mind made up. It was just fucking with me, and then it pinned me down on the bed-"
"The bed?" Sam's eyebrow was raised so high it was practically crawling off his face.
"Yeah, it was some weird mind mojo. It held me there and the room started filling with these big, dark clouds, they looked like wings. This thing, the Not-Cas, it kept calling me worthless, saying I was broken and that…" Dean trailed off, eyes far away.
Sam was absolutely on the edge of his seat, hanging on every word. Dean was talking! He was actually talking! Sam reached a hand out and clasped his brother's shoulder, snapping him back to reality. Dean's gaze focused back on his brother, who nodded affirmatively.
Dean cleared his throat. "And, well… thatCascouldneverlovemeokay?" The words tumbled from his mouth is a rapid-fire jumble of shame and insecurity.
Sam squeezed Dean's shoulder. He felt some sort of pride-relief hybrid for Dean, and it showed in his face.
"I believed it," Dean said with a wince. "I believed it because I wanted to. I knew I didn't deserve him, don't deserve him-"
"Hey man," Sam interjected. "Don't say that."
"What? It's true. He's a fucking ANGEL, man! And what am I? Just a fucked up dude who couldn't hold on to a good thing if was duct taped to my hand." Dean pressed his lips together and gave his a head a small shake.
Sam took his hand away and decided to move the conversation forward rather than argue the point. "Then what?"
"So I'm there, I can't move, and then there's the explosion outside. Huge flash of white light, and I hear him."
"Hear who?"
"Cas," Dean said, light returning to his eyes. "It was Cas."
"But I thought-"
"No," Dean interrupted. "Not Fake-Cas. CAS-Cas. And I heard his voice, his real voice. It snapped me out of it."
"What did he say?" asked Sam.
"Do not question my love for Dean Winchester."