Dean wasn't sure what the angelic definition was of "soon" but it sure wasn't the same as the human one. It had been two weeks since Castiel had left with the promise that he would see Dean soon, and there had been not a word. He wasn't just missing the angel desperately, he was actually worried now. He prayed that nothing had happened. By this point, even shooting at the range couldn't keep his attention, and he wasn't even managing to get his four hours of sleep. Sam was spending most of his time watching Dean with concern in his eyes, and honestly, Dean couldn't blame him. He was running on fumes.

It was seven PM on the sixteenth night with no sign of Cas when Dean's phone rang. He was lying in bed at the time, struggling for sleep despite the early hour, but he immediately leapt to his feet, rushing to where his phone sat on his dresser. He had known it was a miniscule chance it was Cas. It's not like the angel needed to use a cell phone to contact them. But at this point, Dean was willing to grab at the tiniest hope he could. Still, this wasn't Cas. The name on the phone read 'CHARLIE' in glowing green letters, and Dean realized with a pang of guilt that he had never called her back.

"Hey, Charlie."

"Geez, Dean. You forget how to dial a phone?"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry."

"Or maybe…" and now her tone was suggestive, "you've just been busy with other pursuits."

He had no idea how to respond to that. "…..come again?"

"You know." And she sounded as though he really should know, as if there was something completely obvious here, which clearly he was missing. "Your angel."

"….Cas?" Okay, NOW he was confused. "What about Cas?"

"You mean you haven't hooked up yet?"

Dean stood there, dumbfounded. "…..I…..WHAT?"

Charlie actually sounded surprised. "You mean you haven't figured it out yet?"

"Me and Cas." Dean said the words slowly, trying to make sense of them.

"Seriously? After the way he looked at us at the hotel, you really didn't get it?"

Dean tried to shake himself free of the shock currently numbing his body, to think back to the hotel. To the way Cas had looked at the two of them, the way his eyes had taken in Dean's body almost possessively, that look in his eyes that Dean had thought looked like jealousy but had been so convinced at the time couldn't be so. And Dean realized now the meaning behind Charlie's parting words at the hotel. The night at the bar, she had asked if he had anyone to experiment with. He'd answered no. And when she left, she'd said he may not have far to look. Because she knew Cas was right in front of him, waiting for him. Wanting him. But Cas was no experiment. Cas was the real deal. To think now that there was even the slightest chance that Cas might want Dean as much as Dean wanted him…Dean felt warmth flooding him.

"Dean? Dean."

He realized that Charlie was calling his name, and possibly had been for several minutes. "Yeah. Yeah, sorry Charlie."

"Realization setting in?" Her tone was teasing.

"Shut up. Maybe."

"What do you mean, maybe?"

"I mean that this doesn't prove anything for sure. It's all speculation."

"Dean!" She sounded completely exasperated with him. "That boy is 100% in love with you."

"He's not a boy, he's an angel."

"Same difference."

"It's not the same at all." Cas was special, and not just because of how amazing he was with his weird, quirky personality, how dorky he was, how sweet and funny he could be in his own bizarre way, and how Goddamn beautiful he was. No, on top of all that, he was an angel, and that put him a whole 'nother level above Dean. Was it really possible for an angel to fall in love with him?

Charlie heaved a sigh. "I'd argue with you, but I don't think it's possible for ANYONE to understand the way your bizarre little mind works, Dean Winchester."

"Back at you, Bradbury." He chewed his lower lip, thinking. "So, wait. If he likes me-"

"Loves," Charlie corrected."

"….likes," Dean continued. He couldn't even wrap his head around the thought of Cas having even the vaguest beginnings of romantic feelings for him. To get his hopes up any higher than that, especially to the level of 'love', and then have them crushed, would break him. He heard Charlie sigh again. "If he likes me," he continued, ignoring her, "then why is he acting like he is?"

"Think, doofus. He found us together."

"….why now? I mean, he's never gotten mad about other girls before."

"Well, that answer has two parts. First of all, no one is going to put up with that crap forever. Sooner or later, they're gonna snap. Generally, the person would just let you know they care, but the impression I've gotten of Cas is that he doesn't follow conventional methods."

Dean had to smile at that, thinking fondly of all the ways Cas bucked conventions. "No, he doesn't."

"I can hear you smiling, Dean."

"Shut up."

Charlie laughed. "And the second part, you were with me. He knows we're friends. So he was probably worried that, since we already had a relationship of sorts, maybe that meant we'd be moving into a deeper relationship. A romantic relationship."

Suddenly everything made a LOT more sense. "Oh. OH." Dean shook his head, muttering "dammit, Cas." So much trouble could have been avoided if Cas could have just stated what was upsetting him. Well….if this really WAS what was upsetting him. Dean still didn't know if this was the problem. It seemed too much to hope for, that Cas could lo…..care about him.

"Thanks, Charlie."

"You gonna actually listen to me?"

"What do you mean?"

"You gonna make a move?"

Dean was silent for a long moment. "…..I'm gonna see where I stand, first."

"Dammit, Dean!" Charlie sounded thoroughly exasperated.
"I know, I know. I'm an idiot. You don't need to tell me."

"I'm going to, anyway. Cuz it's fun."

Dean laughed, shaking his head. "You're a pain in the ass."

"And you love me for it."

"I'll talk to you later, brat."

"Bye, idiot."

Dean hung up the phone, setting it on his bedside table. Charlie had given him a lot to think about. But he couldn't figure it all out in one night. He turned out the lights and, for the first time in a long time, managed to fall asleep.

The next few days were frustrating. Dean began to think about every little thing Cas did, and dissect it in a million ways. Did Cas really stand so close because he didn't remember personal space? One would think by now the guy would've learned, would know to stand at least a foot away. And he never crowded Sam the way he did Dean. But did it MEAN something?

If the days were difficult, the nights were a wonderful torture. Dean began to dream of Cas every night, and not just his eyes. In these dreams, he was on all fours again, but this time it wasn't Charlie pressing him into the mattress. He could feel Cas' warm body pressed against his back as he was breached, clenching the sheets in his fists at the sensation of Cas filling him. With Charlie there had been no need for softness or affection, it had just been some goofing around between friends, an experiment. With Cas it was different. Dean felt Cas' fingers trail across his skin, run gently through his hair, Cas' lips trace soft kisses up his back and neck. It was nothing like with Charlie, nothing like with anyone he had ever been with, and he would wake each time full of longing for the real thing.

Dean wished he had someone to talk to. It wasn't that Charlie wasn't amazing, and helpful, but it sucked not having a man's perspective. Dean had only ever had his brother, and he definitely wasn't discussing his sex life with Sam. Especially not when it involved Cas, and ESPECIALLY not when Sam got that irritating smile on his face whenever Dean and Cas were anywhere near each other.

And Cas...

Dean felt an uncomfortable flip-flopping sensation. Cas he felt comfortable talking to. It was strange but right from the start he had no trouble speaking with Cas. Even before they were friends, even when Cas was still quiet and awkward (well, MORE awkward), Dean still found it easy to talk to him. Things just flowed between them but this certainly wasn't a conversation he could have with Cas.

Bobby was there but there was no WAY Dean was discussing his sex life with Bobby, especially when it possibly involved gay feelings for a certain angel. Oh hell, who was he kidding. Definitely.

Other than that, there was only Benny….who was gone.

Dean huffed a small laugh at the thought of that conversation. Benny, big, gruff, sweet as a teddy bear Benny, talking to Dean about his suppressed homosexual urges.

...actually, Benny would've probably been perfect for this. Not that Dean would've ever had the guts to bring it up.

Honestly, Dean really was a wimp where it counted. Which was one of the many reasons he was going to end up alone.

"Dean?" The voice echoed from down the hall.

"Yeah, Sammy?" He didn't rise from his bed, looking at Cas' black feather as he twirled it gently between his fingers, careful not to damage it.

"Cas is back."

Dean's heart leapt in his chest; he was on his feet in an instant. "Cas?" But he didn't have to take a step, for Cas was there, stepping into his room. Dean's heart was going a mile a minute; he never would have thought Cas would actually come to see him personally….not with the way the angel had been behaving. "Hey, Cas." He wasn't ashamed of how his voice broke on Castiel's name.

"Hello, Dean." Cas looked harried. His tie was even more askew than usual and his hair was a mess, as if he had rushed to get here. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get back. I didn't…." but he broke off, stiffening as he saw the feather in Dean's hand. "Where did you get that." His voice was almost as taut as his posture.

Dean was confused but then again, everything about Cas confused him lately. "It was on the seat of the impala," he answered. "Two days ago."

Cas stared, but the weight of the look was heavier than usual. "...give it back," he said at last.

Dean was taken aback. "No," he finally managed.

Castiel's eyes narrowed. "Give it. Back." Each word was annunciated.

Dean clutched the feather to his chest. He didn't know why the feather was so important but it was...he felt it, too. Somehow, for some reason, it was precious to him, and he couldn't bear the thought of giving it back to Cas. "No," he repeated.

Castiel glared at him. "Dean," he growled, but Dean wouldn't budge, simply staring back at him. All he could think was that clearly Charlie was wrong, that Cas couldn't possibly love him if he wouldn't even let Dean have this one feather.

"…..please," Dean whispered. It was all he could manage, holding the feather tight to his chest.

Castiel was still giving him that look, fury in his eyes, but there was something else behind the anger…..pain, and more…..a sort of brokenness that hurt Dean far more than that rage ever could. And without another word, Castiel vanished even quicker than he had arrived.

For a long moment, Dean simply stared at the space where Cas had been. He felt as though part of him had been torn out and taken along when Cas left. Shaking his head, he turned away.

"See Dean? This is why you can't have nice things," he mumbled to himself. He didn't even know what he meant by "this", only that it was true. Dean Winchester didn't get nice things, because the few he did get, he always ruined somehow, broke or tarnished them until there was nothing left. He didn't want to add Cas to that list. He couldn't bear it. Better to not even put him there in the first place. Stop aiming so high, Winchester. Even if there was the slightest possibility Cas DID feel the same way (and after that encounter just now, it seemed HIGHLY unlikely), Dean knew he didn't deserve it. Didn't deserve CAS. He'd only screw it up, just like he did everything else. And he couldn't do that to him. Not to Cas. Don't hurt Cas. Never hurt Cas.

Dean headed into the kitchen, the feather still in hand. He could feel the burning pinpricks of tears behind his eyelids. Sam looked up as he entered.

"What happened? Where's Cas?"

"Gone." The word felt heavy and wooden on his tongue.

"Gone? Already?"

Dean didn't answer, simply moved to where the drinks were kept and picked up a bottle of Jack, then moved to the fridge and pulled out a few beers. He didn't look at Sam but he could feel his brother's concerned gaze on him.

"Dean."

Dean didn't even pause, simply headed back to his room with his acquisitions and shut the door behind him. Setting the bottles aside on his bedside table, he locked his door and shoved the dresser up against the door. It wouldn't keep Sam out if he was really determined but it would at least show Sam that Dean didn't want any company. Then, ignoring the banging on the door, he settled in to get heavily drunk, hoping that doing so would erase all thoughts of Castiel from his mind.

Instead, half an hour later Sam managed to get into the room and find Dean sitting on the floor, back against his bad, an empty bottle of Jack in one hand and Cas' feather on the other, face wet with tears.

"What'd I do wrong, Sammy," Dean mumbled. Sam carefully pulled the bottle from Dean's hand, but he knew better than to attempt the same thing with the feather. "What'd I do wrong."

"Nothing, Dean." Sam wrapped an arm around Dean's waist. "C'mon, up we go." He helped his brother up and into bed. "I'm gonna get you a glass of water, okay?" As he headed out the door, he heard his brother say something that sounded suspiciously like "hates me."

Sam quickly returned with a tall glass of cold water. He sat on the bed beside Dean and held it out. "Here. Drink this."

Surprisingly enough, Dean drank it obligingly. "Hates me," he mumbled. Sam could barely hear him. He leaned in closer.

"Hates you? Who hates you? Cas?" Dean nodded. Sam had to use all his willpower not to laugh. "Dean…" He took the empty glass and set it on the nightstand, giving Dean a little push to get him to lie down. "Cas loves you."

Dean just shook his head, looking away. "Hates me."

Sam fought back a sigh. "Go to sleep, Dean." He collected all the alcohol on his way from the room, pausing in the doorway. Dean was curled up, clutching the black feather as though it was the most important thing in the entire world, tears still filling his eyes. It made Sam's heart ache. He could count on one hand the amount of times he had seen Dean cry since he hit double-digits, and now here he was, crying his eyes out and drowning his pain in alcohol because he was in love….something which should make him happy.

Sighing, Sam leaned against the wall, looking up. "Cas, I don't know if you're listening, but whatever's going on with you and Dean, you've got to work it out, okay? He's miserable. I know you care about him, and he cares about you, so please. Stop hurting each other."

Well, he hadn't wanted to interfere, but in the end he couldn't just sit back and watch as the two tore each other apart through sheer blind stupidity. All he could do now was hope that his message had gotten through.

Castiel listened in silently to Sam's words. He didn't dare to hope, but could it be true? Could Dean possibly have feelings for him? Then why…..why Charlie? Why any of the women, but especially why her? Then again, Sam hadn't outwardly stated that Dean cared for him, but it was implied, wasn't it?

Maybe he had been hasty in his behavior this evening. But to see his feather in the hands of one who had feelings for another…..how to explain to Dean why it was so important without actually explaining Castiel's own feelings for the man? Impossible. But then again, why would Dean want the feather so badly if he didn't have feelings for Castiel?

Cas shook his head. It was all too puzzling. He couldn't do anything right away. He would have to wait, and observe Dean, and see if he could determine what his true feelings were. At any rate, he would have to return and apologize for his behavior.

Tomorrow. He would return tomorrow.

He only hoped that Dean still wanted to see him.

~tbc~