A/N: Soooo its been over a year….I am so sorry. Been a little crazy in my life lately but its really been bugging me to finish this and take up writing again. I finished Nanowrimo and my own novel. I am almost finished with the rewrite so everyone cross your fingers for me. Kind of hit some writers block and writing fan fic has always helped clear it up for me. Also this is mainly a shit ton of fluff.

I do realize it has been awhile, so I'll post a short update and if everyone is still interested I'll finally finish this sucker up.

Disclaimer: Yea its been a year, but I still don't own it.

Something was brushing against Dean's face; soft and barely noticeable if perhaps his line of work hadn't been so dependent on being a light sleeper. So he opened his eyes. Everything was white and grey. Fuzzy, like a soft focused photograph. The hunter felt the stirrings of another body beside him, their feet tangled together beneath a light blanket. Cas.

Fuck, he had slept with Cas.

Literally slept, he reasoned as he looked around while trying not to wake the angel next to him while he got his barring. The wisps that were brushing against him were feathers-more importantly Cas's feathers. They were currently nestled in a cocoon of the downy appendages, blocking out small lamp light on the table that Dean had neglected the night before.

Dean stopped looking around and instead turned his attention to the man beside him; he was curled towards Dean, getting as close as humanly possible without actually touching the hunter. Castiels fingertips barely grazing Dean's hands near his pillow, his face pressed close, their noses nearly touching. It was as if he was gravitating towards him.

Dean nearly groaned as last nights events came flooding back to him; he had kissed Cas. All while he was undergoing a massive change, he was confused and Dean thought the best course of action was to fucking kiss him? The hunter tried to control the thumping his chest as his heart beat against its confines-he had messed everything up. Again. What will Cas do? What will Sam do when he finds out and what if-

"You are thinking very loudly,' came a soft mumble from the angel, breaking his train of anxious thoughts in their tracks.

Dean didn't know what to say or what to do. It was Cas who carefully inched his fingertip towards Dean's, brushing them carefully against his, all the while keeping a close eye on the hunters face.

It was the simplest of contact, barely contact. But it made Dean's heart race and every nerve in his body light up.

"What you did last night,' Cas began, slowly and softly as if he was trying not to spook the other man, "Was that simply for my benefit, or did you want that as well?"

.

It was quiet, nothing seemed to get through the blankets of feathers that still were canopied over him. It was just them.

Dean wasn't quite sure if that made it better or worse because Cas's unwavering gaze was still boring into him.

Cas seemed to resigned at the lack of response, his eyes dropping and the feathers dropping lower on the two of them.

"Dean, I am so-"

The hunter couldn't let him finish that sentence, so he did the only reasonable, non verbal thing he could think of. He kissed him. Again.

It was quick, and too rough. He felt their teeth click together as he pressed his lips to his. But Cas melted into him, like every line of tension simply disappeared under the hunter's ministrations.

Dean kept his eyes closed while drawing away, afraid to look. Afraid to lose himself again. So he instead dipped in once more, carefully, repentantly. The hand that Castiel had touched just moment before came to cup to the back of his neck and curl in the back of the dark hair it found there.

It was chaste; lips brushing against lips for the sole purpose of being close. It took Dean a few moments to realize Cas was holding his breath, mewling softly each time they touched.

"Dude, breath," he whispered, drawing back barely an inch, his nose bumping against the others.

He felt a shaky exhalation, the warm breath on his skin.

"Are you ok?" Ventured the hunter, opening his eyes and trying to breath looking at the angel's eyes. They were bright, but finally, not from pain.

"I am fine, Dean,' he answered finally, looking confused.

The hunter pulled back, the distance already making him ache like he never thought he could after Lisa.

"I don't want you to feel like you have to,' he stuttered, suddenly unsure of himself-his face was bright red he was sure. "You don't have to want to kiss me Cas. I know you are kind of-you know?"

The angel didn't respond, instead looking at him expectantly, his mouth drawn into a thin line.

"Dean Winchester, I am older than anything you can imagine and you believe I do not understand the simplest of concept of sex?" Now, Dean was flushed; he could feel his ears beam bright red as he pulled back farther, the bed creaking at his escape.

"Not sex, man," it felt weird to hear Castiel speak so frankly, he thought, "Just- fuck, I'm fucking this up."

The older hunter turned his back to the angel, burying his head in his hands as he vehemently wished for a giant hole to suddenly open up underneath him and spare him this embarrassment once and for all. But there was no hole, but a dip in the bed next to him as Castiel moved to sit beside him. He had kept his distance; not much but for an inch or two of naked leg close to Dean's still jean clad appendage. They didn't say anything for a moment and the silence was deafening; the angels wings quivered as they barely brushed Dean's back- as if Cas was trying to hold them back as his body unconsciously reached for him in comfort.

"Dean,' he started, his baritone voice deeper than usual. With sleep or pain Dean couldn't guess which. "My wings have always been present, even if you did not see them. Why do you think Uriel hated you so much? Why the heavenly host was so eager to rid me of you?"

The other man ventured to look up from the comfort of his own hands, Cas was looking at the wall in front of them, a far off look in his eye.

"I have always been pulled to you, Dean Winchester. I risked all that I am, all that I had fought so hard for. For a soul, too strong to be broken by hell. For you Dean. These,' he gestured to the broken appendages behind him, the once glorious wings hanging limply and shuddering, "are not the reason for my affection. Though they have given me away. Its true, what Sam read. I was embarrassed; you aren't the most rational person in the best of times, especially when confronted with matters of the heart."

Dean opened his mouth, and just as he began to speak a loud bang resounded from his bedroom door.

"Guys? I think I found a spell to reverse what Metatron did!" Sam exclaimed, bursting in with exuberance, yellowing papers clutched in his hands. "I think we can fix this."

When neither of the men spoke Sam got a somewhat sheepish expression, "Was I interrupting something?"

It was Dean who stood, rubbing his hands on his jeans - a good sign that he was frustrated. And nervous. Maybe both.

"Naw, of course not. I gotta get some air,' he walked out with his younger brother, turning when he hit the door, looking at the hunched figure still perched on his bed, "Sam, catch Cas up with what you found, ok?"

He didn't stop to see if Sam agreed, just walked out of the room just short of a jog. He had to get out of that room. It was too much.

It didn't escape Dean how the feathered appendages seemed to droop as he left.

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

"Cas? You want to see what I found?"

Sam Winchester's voice broke Cas out of his revere, jostling him back quickly, "Yes of course Sam. I appreciate your diligence in this matter."

"Well, its not much." Sam replied, pressing a copy of a worn text into Castiel's hands and sitting as close to him as possible without disturbing the wings which twitched weakly against Dean's navy comforter. "But it did mention a jump start of shorts, a way to fuel the grace for a bit longer. Its not a permanent fix, but something that will keep this grace active until you find your mojo."

Cas tilted his head, "A jump start?"

"Yea, it keeps going on about a 'tether' of some sort. Something about the power harnessed could jolt your grace awake. From what I could make out, the tether is like an extension cord for your grace. Theres power in it already? It doesn't really make any sense though."

"It makes perfect sense, actually,' A sigh, as he slowly lowered his wings, the pinions resting now fully on the bed spread. Defeated. "Its just impossible."

Sam pushed the papers aside, his attention solely on the falling angel seated beside him, "Cas, you're fading. The grace is barely holding you together. We have to try, whether or not you think its impossible; Dean and I have faced wors-"

"You don't understand, its impossible because it requires something that I couldn't ask."

Rising slightly, the younger Winchester waited until the angel shook his head and finished his explanation.

"The tether you speak of, it is in fact a small source of power. Being as an angel uses a large amount of their grace to produce it-it leaves a shadow as it is,' He responded, fiddling with his hands. "But to access something like that, is dangerous.'

Sam was silent for a moment, looking again at the worn sheet of paper in his hand, "Why does it keep referring to the tether like its alive?' when Cas didn't answer, he tried again, "Unless I am getting my vocabulary wrong, but it keeps talking about soul mates here Cas."

"Your vocabulary is, as always, quite accurate Sam."

Sam shifted, "Cas, what happened when you grabbed Dean from hell? The hand print? You said it was a brand."

Castiel looked up sharply, "Please, Sam. Don't say anything to Dean."

SPNSPNSPNSPN

Neither of them saw Dean just shy of eye sight in the hallway.

AN: Well? Did I do ok?