Forewarned, there is explicit M/M oral sex in this chapter, and you have my apologies if I messed it up. Dean is definitely a bottom, even though he's not gay. (wink, wink). Oh, and there might be a little accidental voyeurism, but only because the boys got a little carried away and forgot about poor Sam…. who actually slept through the whole thing anyway.

Castiel awoke strapped in a chair, slightly reclined; the room he was in was spare and cold, all glass and metal. His heart sank a little when he realized where he was – Naomi's 'Lab'. What could Naomi possibly want now? Hadn't she taken enough of his memories already? And how could he recognize Naomi's Lab and not remember anything else? Castiel wasn't even sure who he was anymore, whether God had actually died – surely his Father wouldn't just let all this stuff happen willy nilly. And how did he know a phrase like that?

'Cas, are you there? It's Dean again.'

Castiel looked around, trying to identify the voice he heard in his head. There was the background static of Angel Radio, then there was a rough male voice, different from all the rest. Something about it was extremely familiar and comforting… Castiel realized it felt like home to hear this voice in his head.

'Cas, I'm really worried about you. You zapped out mid-sentence, and that ain't like you, Cas. I think those angels are dickin' around in your head again, Cas, and I just ain't cool with that. You've done so much for us Cas…'

Here the voice in his head cascaded with emotion and memories, each hitting him like an Angel Blade to the heart. Two brothers, both pivotal in the fight against…. what? Monsters? Darkness? Lucifer? Dean's memories bombarded him, all the prayers he'd sent to Cas, all the times they'd drank together and ridden around together, eating up the miles and the hours in quiet companionship. Over and over again he saw himself, fighting beside them, watching them eat, watching Dean sleep. Why did he watch Dean sleep? Was Dean the Righteous Man? What had Naomi done? How could he not remember any of this?

'I'm sorry, Cas, but you gotta' remember it all, not just the cozy parts. This Naomi ain't doin' you any favors. This is gonna' hurt, Cas, I'm sorry.'

Castiel wondered briefly what Dean could possibly be referring to when the memory hit him. He was beating the living daylights out of Dean; he saw the memory from Dean's perspective, feeling Dean's concern and confusion at his actions. His own face was impassive, angelically implacable and immovable. He heard Dean's pleas, saw his tortured face, and knew that he had done that at Naomi's command. Dean was pleading with him, but not pleading for his own life – Dean was telling him that this behavior wasn't who he was. How could Dean know who he was, and Castiel himself couldn't?

By the time Castiel watched himself drop the Angel Blade, tears were running down his face, and all he could think about was getting back to Dean and telling him how very sorry he was. He tried to blink out, but it didn't work. Castiel looked down and realized the straps were warded against him.

He was determined to get free, though he had no idea how much time he had until Naomi got back. Once Naomi got back, she would start in again, and he would forget Dean again. It was all starting to come back to him now, and all he could think about was getting back to Dean. Dean had warned him about Naomi, and said that he would fight Naomi if he was there, so Castiel focused with renewed attention on freeing himself from the warded cuffs.

Naomi came back just as Castiel worked his way free of the cuffs and stood up. He wasn't sure what was powering him, but Dean was the Righteous Man, and he opposed Naomi's tactics. And anyway, Castiel figured if his Father didn't approve, He wouldn't have brought him back so quickly those other times, even if they were considered 'punishment resurrections' by the other angels. His Father had always told the humans that he 'chastised those whom He loved,' and though it seemed a little backwards to Castiel, he clung fiercely to it now. Father could have left him in The Empty like the others, but He hadn't. And every time he had come back, he found he had more power and authority than the last time. Time and again his Father had brought him back, for the Winchester brothers.

'Castiel, I'm not letting you leave.' Naomi stated implacably, her stance firm and calm as always.

'I'm not asking for your permission, Naomi.' Castiel replied, swinging his hand out and using his Grace to send Naomi flying backwards through the doorway. 'I'm leaving, Naomi. You will never take my memories again, and you will not interfere with Dean or his brother.'

With that, Castiel blinked himself out of Naomi's office, zeroing in on Dean's prayer. He found himself back in the familiar hotel room, standing between two beds. Dean was sitting on the far edge of a bed in front of him; his brother Sam slept peacefully in the other bed behind him. Dean sat facing away from Sam, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands knit together and supporting his bowed head.

No words came from his mouth, but Castiel could hear his thoughts clearly, feel the emotions behind them. Dean was profoundly distraught, nearly frantic with worry actually, though none of it showed in his outward appearance. Castiel was surprised and moved to realize that Dean's worry was all for him.

'Cas, I really hope you can hear me. I can't do this without you, man. You've gotta' fight that Naomi bitch, she's hurtin' you, Cas, and I don't like it. I don't like it 'cause I can't go up there and fight her myself.'

Dean's internal voice crackled with emotion on these last words, failure and the beginnings of hopelessness leaking from him. Castiel couldn't help himself. He rushed forward, making a wide circle around the end of the bed to stand in front of Dean. Surprising Dean Winchester could be deadly, even for him. He crouched in front of Dean, and Dean looked up from his prayers, his eyes swimming with unshed tears.

'Dean, I'm here. I did it, Dean. I freed myself from the warded cuffs on the chair in Naomi's Lab and blinked out even though Naomi didn't want me to.' Castiel felt foolish, like a little kid telling his crush about what he'd done.

Dean's face was skeptical.

'Cas? Is that really you, or am I hallucinating again?'

Castiel reached out cupped Dean's face in both his hands, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. He loved the feel of Dean's stubble under his palm. Dean reached up and grasped him by the wrists – not to pull his hands away, but to hold on, to make sure it was real. Both Winchester brothers were very touch oriented – with all the mental battles they faced, it was no wonder. Touch was their way of grounding themselves in the present moment. Castiel quietly obliged, allowing Dean to hang on to his wrists, his palms still cupping Dean's face.

'I'm here, Dean.'

Castiel spoke quietly, his wings folding forward to loosely embrace Dean. It was like a magic ward was lifted from Dean. The tears started spilling down his face, and his mouth contorted in a silent scream of anguish and anger and pain. No sound came out, no sound at all, even though his body was wracked over and over with huge, silent, wrenching sobs.

Dean's tears and anguish were eerily silent – long years of habit, long years of hiding his fear and anguish from his little brother was one more way of protecting him. Dean never relaxed his grip on Cas's wrists through all of this. Dean's grip was like a lifeline he clung to, tightening so much at times that Castiel knew if he were human his wrists would have shattered. Castiel let the tears wash over his hands, even though they burned tiny silver trails on his skin.

Dean finally let go of Cas's wrists, and Castiel took this as a sign that he could let go of Dean as he seemed to come back to himself. Castiel sat back a little as Dean used the hem of his shirt to wipe his face. He was on the verge of trying to reassure Dean about his vulnerable moment when Dean stood up abruptly, his crotch right in Cas's face. He leered down at Cas, male bravado again covering Dean's feelings of vulnerability.

'What, cat got your tongue, Cas?'

Castiel shook his head wearily at Dean's distraction tactic. He stood slowly, not moving even an inch away from Dean. As he rose to his feet, his body brushed heavily against Dean's, forcing Dean to brace himself and Cas's wings instinctively curled around behind him to bolster him.

Castiel looked Dean in the eye for a long moment, his wings still curled tightly around both of them, pushing Dean into him. Castiel couldn't help it, he cared so much about Dean that it hurt – it was a deep, aching need that clawed at him from the inside, like a weakened Leviathan. He took in Dean's green eyes – still a little red from crying, and this stirred things inside Castiel he still didn't completely understand. His gaze drifted down the hard, proud face to the full lips, just parted; Dean's breath was coming in short little pants, he didn't think Dean even realized it.

Dean couldn't look away from Cas's eyes…. God, why did You make his eyes so blue? Every time Dean looked up at the sky on a cloudless day, he thought of Cas's eyes, of Castiel watching over him silently. Castiel, sitting in that chair beside his bed every night, watching him sleep. Coming awake after another nightmare to Castiel quietly holding him, mumbling Enochian until the nightmare left him and he found sleep again.

It wasn't sex, it was far more profound than that; it was safety. Cas was a safe place, a refuge. Dean unconsciously relaxed so that the pressure of Cas's wings was all that was keeping him upright. Cas's wings tightened even further around Dean, feathered arms holding him close and safe.

Slowly, Castiel leaned in a little and brushed his lips against Dean's; feathery light, a ghost of a touch, barely there. It felt like fire blazed through his body and soul though, burning some parts of his host body hotter than others. Dean latched on to his kiss like a drowning man, his hands gripping Cas's shirt front. Cas's hands again cupped Dean's face, his smooth palms brushing the rough stubble on Dean's chin. The tips of his fingers worked through the back of Dean's hair.

Cas's wings were like a feathery steel wall behind Dean. Cas's body by contrast held give here and there. Dean felt his hands drift down to Cas's crotch, working through the material of his slacks to massage the rapidly growing bulge he felt. Cas's human vessel was certainly… not lacking in proportional endowments, Dean thought, then stifled a school girl giggle. What the heck did it matter to him what Cas's host body had?

His strong fingers (thank you hours of working on Baby…) massaged Castiel deftly through the material, and in return he felt a gratifying (though also slightly terrifying) gasp from the angel. Cas's hands worked their way through Dean's hair as he growled incoherently in Enochian under his breath.

Dean heard a command mumbled in Enochian, followed by Cas shoving his head downward. Holy Cow! Cas wanted him to…. well, that was actually okay, and a little freaky, because he really wanted to, anyway… And no, it didn't mean he was gay, he wasn't gay, dammit….

Dean mumbled something about the things he was willing to do for gay angels who had a crush on him as he ripped Cas's shirt open, kissing down his scarred chest and stomach while feverishly unbuckling Cas's belt. When Dean was finally able to work Cas's slacks loose and they pooled around his ankles – he couldn't believe the damn angel went commando! God did he not know about zippers, for crap's sake?! – Cas's rather generous endowment bobbed forward and Dean couldn't help a gasp.

'Well holy fuck, Cas, there ain't no way I can swallow all that, ya damn horse,' he mumbled. 'You're gonna have to settle for a hand job, cause ain't no way that's fittin' anywhere…'

He couldn't help his curiousity, though, and telling himself Cas needed a little lube anyway, he knelt in front of Cas, and licked Cas from stem to stern first. Cas inhaled deeply and fisted his hand in Dean's hair, mumbling more commands in Enochian that Dean had no way of understanding…

Gingerly, he cupped Cas's balls in one hand and took Cas's head in his mouth and sucked a little, and was rewarded with a tightened grip on his hair and more Enochian. He swirled his tongue around the head a little and Cas's hips started pumping before he seemed to catch himself. His tone was apologetic, even if Dean still didn't understand Enochian.

Dean's other hand took a firm grip on the shaft and began a slow, leisurely pumping action. He could only comfortably fit the head in his mouth, and as he swirled his tongue around it, he felt Cas's fingers gently exploring his jawline, feeling the places where he and Dean melted together, all the while mumbling reverently in Enochian.

Dean's rhythm picked up speed and soon he could feel Cas's head begin to swell a little and knew Cas was close to orgasm. He gently released Cas's balls and moved his hand up to put his fingers on Cas's lips as a reminder to be silent. Dean felt Cas's hands tighten in his hair as he felt the warm saltiness start to jet down the back of his throat. Dean felt rather than heard Cas's rumbling moan.

Before he even had a chance to think, Cas hauled him up by the hair, their bodies brushing as they stood close. Cas's wings braced Dean's back as Cas gripped him by the shoulders and leaned into him, smelling him. Cas sniffed and licked up Dean's neck to his jawline. He paused and looked over at Dean, his gaze predatory and distinctly not angelic. Dean felt his knees go watery and his dick harden painfully as Cas leered at him.

'You smell like me, Dean.'

Cas used one hand to grab the back of Dean's head and pull him in for a kiss. Cas's kiss was knee-knockingly aggressive, and when he growled into Dean's mouth Dean thought he would come right there. Cas paused his kissing exploration of Dean's mouth to mumble into it…

'You taste like me, Dean.'

Cas leaned down and began kissing, biting, and sucking on Dean's chest, a point not too far away from the anti-possession tattoo, in fact. Dean realized Cas was giving him a hickey, that Cas was marking him. Dean felt himself go weak in the knees again at this thought – what was he, some stupid teenage girl now? Cas's arms were sure, though, and Cas kept him stable, braced against his wings. Dean couldn't stand up on his own now if he needed to.

'Jesus fuck Cas, what the hell are you doin' to me?'

Cas's left hand rose up and covered Dean's mouth, pressing his head back against the wings. Dean didn't think he could possibly get any harder, and now he was starting to leak, like a boy with his first porno mag. Why did that predatory look in Cas's eyes get him so damn hot? Why did he feel like going along with whatever the hell Cas came up with?

Castiel finished sucking a hickey on Dean's chest, marking him, and briefly surveyed his handiwork, looking over at Dean again. Dean was utterly compliant in his arms – his soul was as still and content as he'd ever felt it. His eyes were soft and vulnerable – he could feel Dean's submission in his bones. It beggared all possible belief, but there it was. Dean would fight like the nine hells to deny this moment hereafter, but Castiel knew now.

Castiel surprised Dean by reaching his right hand into Dean's boxers and taking firm hold of what he found there. The feel of Cas's hand on him nearly sent Dean over the edge, but Cas barely shook his head. Cas didn't want him to come yet. What the hell? Since when was it up to Cas?

Dean felt Cas's gaze on him and looked into his blue eyes. Yep. He was officially a goner. Whatever Cas wanted to do, he knew he'd pony up for it without hesitation. Oh, sure he'd have to make his objections sound good so nobody figured out how whipped he was…

Cas removed his hand from Dean's mouth and replaced it with his own mouth, kissing him gently and sweetly. Dean realized he could kiss Cas forever. Well, on second thought maybe objections were overrated sometimes. Cas broke off the kiss and leaned forward to whisper in Dean's ear, his right hand still stroking Dean.

'You. Belong. To. Me.' Cas whispered, and Dean came apart in his arms.

Sam moaned a little in his sleep, rolling over.

'Dean, tell your girlfriend to be a little quieter, will ya',' he mumbled in his sleep. His words fell away to incoherent mutters as he fell back asleep.

Dean and Castiel looked at each other a moment, then collapsed side by side on the bed, laughing softly.