"Cas, you look miserable," Dean said as he sat down in the study opposite the angel, sandwich in one hand and a beer in the other. When Cas didn't react, Dean pulled away the book that he had been staring at for the past twenty minutes, forcing him to look up at him. "What's wrong with you?" Cas's gaze flickered from Dean back to the dark wooden table.

"You've had many romantic partners, right?" Cas asked.

"Uh… I wouldn't say many," Dean said, a little uncertainly. "Some, I guess. Why?" Cas hesitated again, taking a slow, deep breath he asked,

"What happens when you find someone who… who makes you happier than you ever thought you could be, and when you aren't together you feel like you left part of yourself with them… and there's an emptiness that nothing else will fill until you can be near them again." Cas said all of this without removing his eyes from his hands in front of him.

"Well aren't you a dark horse?" Dean said, punching Cas on the shoulder and grinning at him, perhaps overcompensating slightly for the small but inexplicable pang of jealously that prodded at his insides. "You've got the hots for someone? Who is she? She an angel?"

"Dean." Cas said, looking him straight in the eye, an expression of such defeat and confusion on his face that Dean's smile dropped instantly. He pulled his chair closer to the table.

"Okay, what's wrong?"

"It's all very complicated," he said. "But I don't think my feelings are reciprocated." Dean patted Cas on the arm sympathetically.

"Aw, that sucks, man. I've been there," Dean said. Cas looked at him, holding his gaze for a split second too long, as though waiting for him to say something, but Dean had no idea what.

"So what do I do?" Cas asked, at last.

"Getting some distance is probably your best bet," he said. "Don't see her, don't talk to her, don't even call her. Just cut her out of your life until you feel like you can start moving on again."

Cas frowned. "You mean I should just run from the problem?"

"You can't run from something like this. Believe me," Dean said, with a dry laugh. "It'll follow you for a long time, but the more you're reminded of her, the harder it's going to be."

"It seems extreme," Cas said.

"Yeah, I know. But it's effective. It's the best way to avoid getting hurt." Cas paused for a second, as though he was waiting to see if Dean was finished. When Dean didn't say anything else, Cas's shoulders seemed to sag, a look of defeat coming over his face.

"It's a little late for that," he muttered, pulling his arm away from Dean and walking down the corridor towards his room. Dean was about to follow him when Sam appeared at the end of the corridor with his laptop and several books in his arms. He greeted Cas as he passed him, but Cas didn't reply. When Sam reached the table, he dumped his things in front of Dean and turned to him, frowning.

"What's up with him?" he asked.

"It's kinda personal," Dean said, aware that Cas could probably hear everything they were saying with his weird angel hearing. Sam followed Dean's gaze along the now empty corridor, taking one last look after the troubled angel before opening his laptop and beginning to tell Dean about a case he had found. But Dean wasn't really listening. He was still staring blankly down the corridor, an uncomfortable knot in his stomach that he couldn't quite define.

"Dean?" Sam said, evidently realising that his brother wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention.

"Sorry, man. I'm really tired. Fill me in in the morning?"

"Sure," Sam said, watching Dean curiously. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Dean said, flashing him a quick smile. "Night, Sammy."

"Night." Dean headed immediately for Cas's room. He stopped in front of the door, hand raised to knock. But he didn't move. He stood for almost a minute preparing to knock and then deciding against it. Eventually he turned away and headed for his own bedroom, resolving to talk to Cas in the morning.

The next morning, Dean knocked on his brother's bedroom door with his free hand, the other one occupied by an enormous plate of toast. Sam was sitting on his bed, his laptop and more books spread out in front of him.

"Breakfast?" Dean asked.

"Thanks," Sam said, grabbing a slice of toast smothered in peanut butter. "So like I was saying last night, I think there's a nest of vamps about an hour from here. You want to clear 'em out?"

"Sure," Dean said, chewing on his third slice of toast. "You seen Cas this morning?"

"Yeah, he went out earlier."

"Where to?"

"He didn't say."

"Why didn't you ask?" Dean said, his tone a little more accusatory than he intended.

"It was none of my business," Sam replied snappily. Dean mumbled an apology and Sam studied him, concerned. "You worried about him or something?"

"Nah," Dean lied, shoving the last of his toast in to his mouth. "He'll be home soon enough. Now let's go gank some vamps."

Three days and thirty vampires later, Sam and Dean were making their way back to the bunker. It had been a pretty enjoyable weekend, straightforward, slightly dangerous; it reminded Dean of some of their earliest cases together before things were complicated by apocalypses, angels, and demons.

Dean had left a note pinned to Cas's door before they left, telling him where they would be but he hadn't come to join them. Dean wouldn't have worried, he would have just assumed that Cas was still depressed about his love life, except that he had been completely incommunicado; he wasn't replying to texts, calls or even prayers.

As soon as they reached the bunker, Dean hurried inside, but he found everything exactly the way they had left it, the note still tacked, untouched, to Cas's door.

"He'll turn up," Sam said. Dean grunted his agreement, but couldn't help worrying.

Three more days passed and Dean was getting desperate. He tried to convince himself again and again that Cas was just busy, or working a case of his own, or visiting heaven, but none of those reasons explained why he wasn't returning Dean's calls.

"Still not heard from Cas?" Sam asked, sitting down at the large table, watching Dean pace the floor.

"No. I'm starting to worry, man."

"Did he say anything before he left?"

"Like what?"

"I dunno," Sam said, "anything that might be a clue about where he's gone?"

"He was acting kinda weird I guess. He was asking me for relationship advice." Sam raised his eyebrows.

"He's got a girlfriend?"

"No that's the problem. He said it was all too complicated and they couldn't ever be together so he wanted to know how to get over someone."

"And what did you tell him?"

"That he needed to put as much distance between them as he could..." As soon as he said it aloud Dean's heart plummeted. He looked down at Sam who was staring at him with the same shocked recognition that he felt.

"Oh my god." Dean sat down opposite Sam, covering his mouth with his hands. He was surprised, blindsided by the revelation that Cas had been talking about him, but those feelings didn't seem to extend to the back of his mind, where a little voice was telling him that really, he had known all along.

"Why didn't he tell me?" Dean said. "If I'd known the whole story I..." he trailed off before he could finish, standing again and resuming his pacing, running his hands through his hair. "And now my own advice has come back to bite me in the ass and I might never see him again."

Dean glanced to his brother when he realised that he wasn't sharing his worry, he was just sitting there, watching Dean almost sympathetically.

"What?" Dean snapped.

"Maybe this is for the best," Sam said, hesitantly.

"Are you out of your mind? This is Cas we're talking about."

"Look, Dean. All I'm saying is that your advice was good advice. If he really does have feelings for you, then we need to give him space."

"But if I'd known he was talking about me I would never have said any of that. I would have…"

"What?" Sam asked. "Pretended to be gay for the rest of your life to avoid hurting his feelings?"

"No…" Dean said, rubbing his eyes in exasperation. "I just don't want that last conversation to be our last, y'know?" Sam stood up, still watching his brother with a kind of exasperated pity.

"He's my friend too, Dean. Hell, he's like family. I love him and I'll miss him but don't you think we should just give the poor guy some peace? I mean, imagine how he's feeling. This must be killing him, and seeing you again is only going to make it worse." Dean was suddenly confused, not to mention frustrated that his brother had made a good point. The last thing he wanted was to make things worse for Cas, but how could he let him go thinking that Dean didn't care for him? His mind was already made up as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the stairs.

"If it was anyone else…" he said. "Anyone else, I'd let them go. But not Cas." Before Dean could reach the door his brother had run up the stairs behind him, pushing past him and blocking his exit.

Dean waited for Sam to argue with him but he didn't speak, he just stood in the doorway toe to toe with Dean, towering over his big brother.

"Sammy, get out of my way," Dean said, quietly.

Sam continued to stare him down, and Dean felt his frustration rise in to anger as Sam stood in the way of him getting to Cas. But before he could threaten his brother, Sam seemed to reach some kind of realisation in his mind, and with a small nod, he pushed open the door for Dean.

"I guess we'd better go find him then."

It took them the best part of a week to track down Cas, and by then end of it, Dean was almost unbearable to be around. He didn't feel it at the time, but he was incredibly grateful to Sam for accompanying him and tolerating his increasingly short temper.

Part of the reason for his frustration was the fact that Sam seemed to have some kind of unique insight in to Cas's mind than Dean didn't. While Dean had next to no idea where the angel might be, Sam made correct prediction after correct prediction and soon they tracked Cas down to a motel in Sioux City, Iowa.

Dean pulled up hastily outside the motel, straddling three parking spaces. Sam ran in to the reception to find out which room Cas was in, but Dean was too impatient to wait. He began going from room to room, banging on doors and looking through windows. Sam came hurrying out a few moments later, pulling Dean up a short flight of metal stairs.

"It's this one," Sam said, nodding to the scraped and peeling door in front of them. Dean waited for him to knock but instead Sam took a step back, gesturing for Dean to go in.

"You're not coming in?" Dean asked. Sam shook his head,

"I think this one's on you." Dean had been so preoccupied with finding Cas that he hadn't even begun to think about what he might do or say when he actually found him. He felt Sam watching him, his expectant gaze pushing Dean towards the door, his own fear keeping him back. At last he knocked, holding his breath as he waited for a sound, a footstep, the click of a lock, but everything was silent.

Unwilling to wait any longer, he glanced quickly around before throwing his weight against the door. The old, damp wood splintered easily and the door swung open, revealing a dim, empty room. The only sign that Cas had been there at all was that day's newspaper, lying open on the small desk. The apprehension Dean had been feeling dropped away leaving nothing but bitter disappointment. He sat down on the edge of the bed, putting his head in his hands and Sam leaned against the doorframe.

"He's gone," Dean said.

"We'll find him."

"What do you mean 'we'?" Dean asked bitterly. "You're the one that's tracked him down this far. I've been useless. I don't seem to know a damn thing about him."

Sam came and sat down next to his brother. "Cas said once that you two have a profound bound," Sam said.

"So?"

"So, whenever you need him he's there in a second. Whenever I need him I need to go and find him. I guess I've gotten pretty good at it. It's not a reflection on how well you know him, you just never need to track him down because he's always by your side."

"Yeah well he's not by my side now," Dean said, Sam's explanation providing him with little comfort.

"You know," Sam added, "tracking down Cas is a lot like tracking down you. You have a lot in common, even your bolt-holes and escape strategies."

Dean scoffed. "We've got nothing in common. We don't even like the same music..." The moment he said this, his eye was drawn to the newspaper on the table, left open on the entertainment pages. Dean jumped to his feet, tearing out the page and heading for the door.

"Suit up, Sammy," he said. "I know where he is."

Half an hour later they pulled up in front of the Orpheum Theatre, having changed out of their jeans and plaid shirts and into their suits. Dean flashed his FBI badge as he ran passed the doormen and in to the theatre. Before he could run in to the main hall, he realised that Sam wasn't beside him. He turned to see Sam a few paces behind, looking reluctant.

"You're not coming?" Dean asked.

"Like I said, man, I really think this is something you should do by yourself."

"Okay."

"I'll go get dinner or something, I'll catch up with you later. Take all the time you need."

"Okay."

"Good luck."

"Okay," Dean said again, robotically, his mind preoccupied with what might happen in a few moments. "Sorry," he said, pulling himself out of his panicked trance. "Thanks. I'll see you later."

As soon as Sam was gone, Dean walked towards the main room of the theatre. As he got closer, he was able to hear the soft sound of a violin reverberating through the auditorium, which was quickly joined by the surge of an entire orchestra bursting in to a familiar symphony.

Dean opened the door to the hall, the music growing in volume as he stepped inside. At least three hundred people were sitting in rows, enthralled by the orchestra playing on the brightly lit stage, far at the other end of the room.

It didn't take Dean long to locate Cas and his pale trench coat against the darkness of the room. He hurried up to him and touched him on the arm. Cas looked around and his eyes widened.

"Dean."

"Come on," Dean said, pulling him out of his chair and in to the much brighter foyer. Once the door slid shut, the sound of the orchestra became muffled. Cas was the first one to speak, and it hadn't been what Dean had been expecting to hear.

"I was watching that," he said, curtly. "It was Mozart's -"

"Symphony number thirty eight, I know," Dean said, and Cas looked at him with surprise, and Dean was suddenly a little embarrassed. "I heard you listening to it a few weeks ago," he said, shrugging. "I kinda liked it." Cas didn't say anything, he just continued staring indifferently at Dean, his usually kind blue eyes icy. "Cas we really need to talk." The angel looked unsure, hostile even, but he accepted the request nevertheless.

"Yes, I suppose we do."

They walked in complete silence from the theatre, got in to the car without saying a word and drove off. It was painful. The twenty minute drive back to the motel felt like a year. Each second crept by in tense awkwardness with Cas looking stiffly out of the window, Dean's palms growing sweaty on the steering wheel.

"Dean," Cas began. Dean turned to look at him, but he didn't seem to know what to say next, so the remainder of the car journey passed under the shadow of that unfinished sentence.

They entered Cas's motel room and Dean wedged the broken door shut behind them. Almost driven mad by the anticipation, Dean couldn't contain himself any longer.

"Cas, are you in love with me?" he asked, rounding on the angel.

Cas stood stock-still, refusing to meet his eye. All of his efforts to hold himself together, to disguise himself behind hostility, seemed to finally fail. He looked utterly defeated; ashamed and broken.

"Because you know, if you are," Dean continued, "I think that might be the best news I've ever had." Cas looked up in utter surprise, and when he saw the honesty in Dean's eyes he let out a little noise half way between a laugh and a soft sob.

"Damn it, Cas, I wish you'd told me," he continued.

"I thought you would turn me away."

"I would never…" but Dean knew there was nothing he could say, so instead he pulled Cas in to his arms. "I'm sorry, Cas, I've been so stupid," he said quietly. "I'm so sorry I ever let you think that I don't love you." They stood in each other's arms for a long time, both savouring the relief that they were finally back together. Eventually Cas stepped back from him, eyes filled with tears.

"I'm sorry too, Dean. I should never have left. These past few weeks have been torture."

"Ditto," he said. After all that time spent fretting over what he might say to Cas, he took one look at the angel and he knew. "Before you left, you asked me what to do when you find someone who makes you happier than you ever thought you could be," Dean said, having played the conversation over in his mind so many times that Cas's exact words came back to him with ease. "I told you that you should get some distance, that you should run away," he continued. "But I was so wrong."

"You were?" Cas said.

"Yeah," he said, stepping forward so that he and Cas were just an inch apart. He reached out and put his hands on Cas's face, feeling his soft hair beneath his fingertips, and his warm breath on his lips. "You find someone like that," Dean said, "you never ever let them go."

A/N I really hope you enjoyed this slightly longer chapter today. Please leave me a review if you enjoyed! CMPerry x