AN: So I actually finished this on Sunday, but until today wouldn't let me upload new documents or anything, so... Anyway, I'm really proud of this. It's the longest thing I've ever written, for one thing, and for another I've had the basic idea for this stuck in my head for so long now. So, enjoy.

"This is how the mighty fall: not with a roar, but with one small last breath."

Cas had never felt more resentment towards his father than he did in the moment Dean Winchester took his last breath. But for every bit of fury he had for God, he had double for himself. For Falling. For not having enough Grace to heal him.

It was supposed to be an average werewolf hunt. Wait for the full moon and pump it full of silver. Nothing Dean and Sam hadn't done before.

Except it got too close.

It ripped Dean open with a swipe of it's wicked claws against his far-too-fragile abdomen. Sam brought it down with two shots to the heart, but it was too late, Dean was fatally injured.

Somehow they managed to get him into the backseat of the impala without spilling anything out of him other than blood, and Cas sat with him, head cradled in his lap as he tried to stop the bleeding. He was barely containing his panic as he pressed his shirt against the wounds, grimacing at the way the blood just soaked into the cotton and through to his fingers.

"Dean, just hang on ok?" Sam said from the front seat as he drove them towards a hospital at a breakneck speed.

Dean mumbled something as his eyes fluttered shut.

"No," Cas hissed, slapping his cheek lightly. "Don't close your eyes," he ordered. This was not going to be the day Dean Winchester died and that was a fact. The sun rises in the east, sets in the west, and Dean Winchester was not going to die today.

"M'kay Cas…" Dean murmured, voice barely louder than a whisper. He kept his eyes open, although it was visibly a struggle.

Cas smoothed Dean's hair with one hand while he continued to apply pressure to the wounds with the other. "You're going to be ok, Dean, we have to get you to a hospital where they can fix you. You'll be ok, they'll fix you. You'll be ok." Cas was babbling now but he couldn't stop the flow of words, couldn't loosen the knot in his chest. It was a very human thing, this fear that he was feeling for Dean, but he couldn't lose the hunter.

Dean's eyelids began to slide down. "No!" Cas growled, but Dean's eyes closed anyway. "Dean! Stay with me, Dean, please!"

"Sorry…" Dean breathed. His chest rose, a long, shuddering breath, and fell. Then nothing. It didn't rise again, his brilliant green eyes didn't open, his heart didn't beat.

His heart. Didn't. Beat.

"Dean?" Sam asked, glancing over into the backseat. "Cas? Is he ok?" there was panic edging his words but Cas didn't respond.

He couldn't breathe. His heart was physically aching in his chest, and it wasn't beating right. Dean's wasn't beating at all. Cas tried to swallow but his mouth was too dry, he felt like he was going to choke to death on his tongue. Death. Dean was dead.

"Cas!" Sam snapped, pulling Cas from his spiraling thoughts. "Is he ok?"

No, he wasn't ok, Dean was never going to be ok again. Cas wasn't ok. Sam wasn't going to be ok. Nothing was ever going to be ok ever again. Time stopped with the beating of Dean's heart.

"He's gone," Cas heard himself say numbly, his fingers mechanically carding through Dean's soft hair.

"What?" Sam asked, terror lancing his voice.

"Dean's gone," he repeated, staring down at the beautiful face in his lap. He couldn't comprehend this. Surely he would resurrect any second. But he didn't, he continued to lay lifelessly in the backseat.

"No, he can't be, he's just unconscious, we just have to get the hospital."

"He's gone Sam," the words were his mantra, and he had to repeat them until Sam understood. Until they both understood.

"We just have to get the hospital, the doctors, they can save him there."

"Sam!" Cas snapped, voice loud and sure. "Stop the car. Dean's… Gone." His voice faltered on his last word, his throat constricting painfully.

Sam jerked the car off the road, slamming on the brakes. He threw it in park before leaning over the seat to take stock of his brother.

"No. He can't be dead. He can't. Not a fucking werewolf. There is no way a fucking werewolf will be the thing that kills Dean Winchester," he babbled. Cas didn't look away from Dean's face but he could hear the unshed tears in Sam's voice.

Cas swallowed convulsively as he blinked rapidly. There was an unusual moisture in his eyes that was threatening to drip down his face. Tears. There were tears in his eyes.

How far he had fallen.

Sam tells him their positions had once been reversed. Sam had been the one lying dead in an abandoned house while Dean tried to figure out what the hell to do it. He said it with that dry smile the Winchesters had perfected, the one that said they were barely holding it together.

Cas didn't respond. Hadn't said anything since telling Sam his brother was dead. Hadn't been able to, not that he had anything he wanted to say. Sam ran a hand through his hair and shifted forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees. Cas leaned against the doorway to the nearly empty bedroom. At this point he wasn't sure if it was holding him up or if he was holding it. He couldn't take his eyes off Dean.

Never had he seen the hunter so still. It was unnatural.

"I have to… I can't be here right now. Will you be ok here?" Sam asked him, strangely calm. The words barely registered with Cas but he nodded. Then Sam left and Cas was alone.

Without acknowledging his actions he crossed the room and knelt at Dean's side. He placed two fingers on Dean's forehead - so cold, Dean's skin shouldn't be so cold - and focused. He tried to tap into the tiny amount of Grace he had left, tried to use it to heal Dean, to make things right, but nothing happened. He couldn't even feel the warmth of his Grace anymore, it had all but left him, leaving him as cold as Dean.

He folded his arms on the edge of the old mattress, laying his head down on them, angled so he could still see Dean's face.

"Cas," a voice said as someone shook his shoulder. "Cas, wake up."

Wake up? He'd fallen asleep. Something he'd been doing at an increasingly frightening rate and without even realizing until he woke.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes. His neck and back ached terribly but he ignored the pain. "Sam?" he asked, turning to face the taller man, who was kneeling beside him. His face was streaked with tears and he looked absolutely defeated.

"They won't deal," he whispered brokenly. Cas's heart gave a painful thud.

"What?"

Sam was looking at Dean's still face, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Crossroads demons. They won't deal. Not with a Winchester. He's gone Cas. I can't bring him back. He's gone."

Cas could only watch as Sam broke down into sobs. He knew he should do something, hug him, comfort him, but he couldn't. There was no solace for Sam Winchester. There was no solace for Castiel. Castiel. He'd long since stopped being Castiel, before he even began to fall he'd become Cas, even in his own thoughts he was Cas.

He sat quietly beside the younger Winchester - no, the only Winchester - as he cried himself into a fitful sleep. Cas watched as Sam twitched restlessly. He thought about what he had said.

Sam had gone to a crossroads to try to make a deal. His soul for Dean's life, he guessed. But they wouldn't deal, not with a Winchester.

But that's not to say they wouldn't deal with someone else.

Cas waited until he was sure Sam was truly asleep before he crept out of the old house. In his grief Sam was sloppy, he'd left the box with all the ingredients for a crossroads demon summoning on the front seat of the impala, right beside a map with the closest crossroads circled in red. He opened the box and frowned at the item on the top: one of Sam's IDs. He snatched it out and dropped it on the seat. He popped open the glove compartment and sighed in relief when he found the fake FBI ID Dean had made him. He knew he'd need a picture.

He unfolded the map and studied it by the light of the moon. The crossroads weren't far, he could walk there in ten minutes, maybe less. He tossed the map back in the impala and set out.

The walk was short, but it was long enough for Cas's heart to break a thousand times over every time he pictured Dean's eyes sliding shut, his chest expanding with air that one last time.

Cas was standing in the center of the crossroads before he knew it. He looked down between his feet, there was still a small hole where Sam had put the box. Crouching he placed the box in the hole and covered it with the excess gravel and dirt. He stood, unsure of what would happen next. He didn't have to wait long.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't everyone's favorite Falling angel," a voice with a British accent came from behind him. Cas spun to face him.

"Crowley," he growled. "I didn't know these were your personal crossroads."

Crowley laughed. "Oh, they aren't. But really, an angel comes calling you don't let the intern handle it. Now, let me guess… You're hear to beg for your little boyfriends life?"

Cas set his jaw, refusing to rise to Crowley's bait. "I'm here to bargain for the life of Dean Winchester."

Crowley smirked and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his black jacket. "And who says I'm willing to deal?"

Now it was Cas's turn to smirk, something that felt distinctly foreign on his face. "I've never heard of an angel making a deal before. It would be quite advantageous for you to be the one to seal the deal…"

Crowley's lip twitched in annoyance. "But you have nothing I want. Your pitiful soul means nothing to me and I rather enjoy watching you and the moose suffer over the loss of that twat," he said calmly, moving the examine his fingernails for dirt.

Cas grit his teeth, anger bubbling inside of him. He took a deep, calming breath before he spoke again. "My Grace," he said.

Crowley looked up from his nails, surprised. "Your Grace? My friend, have you forgotten the fact that you are Falling fast? You even smell human."

"I am Falling, I know. But I have not yet lost my Grace completely. It's still here," he said, placing a hand on his chest. "It is still mine to give. To sell."

Crowley dropped all his pretenses of disinterest. Cas knew an angel's Grace was something no one other than an angel had ever possessed. He didn't even know if it would be useful for a demon, but he doubted Crowley could pass it up. "So, you're willing to sell your Grace for him? Tell me Cas, does he know you're in love with him?"

Cas looked away from the demon's piercing gaze. "Love is a human thing."

"Ah, yes, but then you're very much human, aren't you?"

"Do we have a deal, or not?" he snapped.

Crowley studied him for a moment. "Just like a Winchester. Bury everything you feel until you can heroically sacrifice yourself. Or, in this case, sacrifice your Grace. We have a deal."

Cas held back the sigh of relief, not allowing himself to seem vulnerable in front of Crowley. "How do we seal the deal?"

Crowley grinned outright. "Nothing less a kiss."

Cas narrowed his eyes but stepped forward, yanking the demon into a rough kiss. He could feel Crowley try to slip his tongue in but he kept his lips firmly shut before pulling away, wiping his mouth viciously.

"Spoilsport," Crowley said crossly.

"Is it done?" Cas asked. Crowley smiled wickedly before snapping his fingers. A sharp pain exploded in Cas's chest and he fell to his hands and knees with a low grunt. It got worse and he cried out, falling to his side as what felt like a thousand knives filleted him from the inside out. His Grace was being ripped from him. The pain was impossible, he couldn't understand how such a dormant thing could cause so much pain in his body.

Then as suddenly as it had begun it stopped. Cas looked up to see Crowley standing above him, glowing vial held in his hand. Cas's Grace, so small and inconspicuous. "Now it's done," Crowley said, snapping his fingers again.

In the next moment Cas found himself outside the abandoned house. He darted inside, tearing through the empty rooms until he arrived in the bedroom where Dean lay. The first thing his eyes fell upon was the steady rise and fall of Dean's chest. Sam was still asleep beside the old bed where Cas had left him, oblivious that his brother was stirring, about to wake.

"Dean!" he couldn't help to exclaim, stumbling to his knees beside Sam. Sam woke then, blinking with confusion.

Then Dean opened his eyes. Sam's jaw dropped and he whipped his head around to Cas, realization heavy in his expression, but Cas couldn't take his eyes off Dean. Dean sat up, grimacing at his tattered shirt.

"What the hell happened?" he asked, his voice rough like he hadn't used it in years. Cas pleaded to Sam with his eyes and Sam seemed to get it because he nodded before turning his attention to Dean.

"The werewolf got you good Dean. It was touch and go for a while, but," Sam glanced at Cas. "I was able to stitch you up some and Cas healed the rest," he lied.

Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam before yanking his shirt off over his head. He looked down at the mess of pale scars littering his abdomen before looking back at Sam. "Bullshit. What the fuck did you do Sam?"

Cas couldn't help but let his eyes rake over Dean's muscles, eyes lingering on the handprint on his shoulder. It had faded but it was still obvious. Cas ached to fit his hand over it, to feel Dean's warm and alive skin under his palm but he remained stationary.

"I told you Dean," Sam was saying, "I kept you together and Cas healed you."

"Sammy, I'm not stupid. Cas can't heal a goddamn paper cut anymore! I know how bad it was. There was no way I would've lived through that. So answer my question. What did you do?"

Sam stood, paced around the small room as he spoke. "I went to a crossroads," he held up his hand when he saw that Dean was going to cut in. "But they wouldn't deal with me. I didn't do anything Dean."

Confusion flickered over Dean's face. "Then how…" he trailed off as realization hit him. He turned to Cas, who avoided his gaze, choosing instead to study the flower pattern on the old threadbare mattress. "Cas. No. Tell me you didn't."

Cas looked up then, surprised to hear the desperation in Dean's voice. "When Sam came back and told me what he'd done, that the demon wouldn't deal because he was a Winchester I knew what I had to do."

Dean looked stricken. "Cas, you stupid son of a bitch. How long do you have?"

Cas didn't immediately understand the question. But then he realized that in normal deals, in deals involving the soul, people get a set number of years before they're dragged into the pit. Dean wanted to know how long he had to live.

"It wasn't that kind of deal Dean," he said quietly. He couldn't help but wonder if that would've been better. Now that the adrenaline of seeing Dean alive again was wearing off, he could feel the dull, empty ache in his chest. Even when he hadn't been able to tap into his Grace it had been there. Now there was just a hole.

"Then what kind of deal was it?" Dean growled, anger now lancing his words. "What did you give it?"

"It was Crowley. And I gave him my Grace."

The room went deadly silent at his words, Cas couldn't even hear breathing. Dean moved, swinging his legs off the bed so Cas was basically kneeling at his feet. Cas looked up into those beautiful green eyes and all he saw was confusion and pain.

"You sold your Grace to save me?" he asked weakly, expression torn.

"Yes," Cas answered simply.

Dean rubbed his hand down his face. "Sam… Give us a minute, ok?"

Cas turned his gaze on Sam, who licked his lips and nodded. "Yeah, ok. I'll be outside with the impala," he said, quickly leaving.

"Cas, stop kneeling there like you're worshipping me or whatever," Dean said, patting the bed beside him. Cas rose and perched on the mattress. "Now. Why the hell would you do that?"

Cas frowned at him. "Dean I am sick of your self-loathing death-seeking ways. I am tired of you acting like you are not good enough for anything," he growled, suddenly angry.

Dean stared at him and Cas stared back, the wetness in Dean's eyes not going unnoticed. There was a soft tremble in Dean's bottom lip but Cas ignored it, just waiting for the rebuttal he knew was coming.

"I'm not," Dean said, breaking eye contact by looking down at his lap.

Cas blinked. That wasn't what he had expected. "What?"

"I'm not good enough," Dean repeated, glancing back up, eyes filled to the brim now. "That was the dumbest thing you could ever do, selling your Grace to save my life. You should know better than anyone that I'm not worth saving. You saw me, Cas, in Hell. You saw the things I did. The things I continue to do here on this rock."

"You continue to save people. I see only good in you Dean."

"How can you see good in me when I've cost you your Grace? I know what it's going to do to you, Cas. I've been to 2014, remember? I've seen you Fallen… I never wanted you to become that."

"Then what would you have me do, Dean? Help Sam build your funeral pyre and light the fucking match myself?" he yelled, fury burning through his words. The expletive felt foreign on his tongue but he found it helped quell his anger.

Dean set his jaw. "Yes," he answered coldly.

Cas had never wanted to punch someone as badly as he wanted to punch Dean in that moment. "How much do you remember?" he asked instead, forcing his tone to be calm.

Dean shrugged. "I remember getting swiped," he said, absently rubbing his stomach where the most prominent wound had been.

"And after that?"

"There was a lot of pain. And blood, I remember a lot of blood. But then I woke up here."

"Sam took the werewolf down. We managed to get you into the impala without spilling your intestines onto the ground which was no small feat. I rode in the back, with you, trying to stop the bleeding, but it wasn't working. I begged you to stay with me," there were tears running down Cas's cheeks again, and his voice was cracking on some of his words but he continued. "And you tried, Dean, you tried so hard but you died right there in my arms in the backseat of the impala. Now look me in the eye and tell me I was supposed to do nothing. Your last word was 'sorry.' I could not let you remain dead."

"But Cas, your Grace-"

"Which was completely useless to me. You said yourself I couldn't even heal a paper cut anymore. I was Fallen already. I think I've been Fallen since I met you," Cas confessed.

Dean arched his eyebrows, confused. "I don't understand."

Cas smiled at him sadly. "Of course you don't understand. You'll never be able to comprehend that someone loves you," he said softly.

Dean blinked at him, eyes wide, lips parted in surprise. "You… Love me?"

"Dean, I have given everything I have to give for you and only you. And I would keep giving if only there were more to give," he said with a small shrug. This wasn't a big revelation for him, it was only facts finally spoken out loud.

Dean's eyes searched his, disbelief written clearly on his face. Cas knew without asking that Dean was trying to figure out how, how someone could know him and still love him.

Dean slowly moved his hand up to cup Cas's cheek, the warm rough skin so inviting that Cas leaned into it. "Cas I wasn't being truthful when I said selling your Grace for me was the dumbest thing you could do," Dean said sadly.

"Then what is?" Cas responded defiantly.

"Falling in love with me," Dean said before crossing the distance between their mouths and pressing his lips gently to Cas's.

Cas was shocked and didn't move for a moment, which must have made Dean think he shouldn't have kissed him because he pulled back. "Cas, I'm s-"

Cas cut him off by flinging himself onto Dean, smashing their lips together. The force knocked Dean backwards onto the mattress and Cas moved with him, not breaking contact with his lips. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas's back, hands splayed across his lean muscles.

Cas tentatively deepened the kiss, barely brushing his tongue against Dean's soft lips. Dean opened his mouth with a low groan and Cas could feel a bolt of pleasure seemingly conjured by the sound shoot straight to his groin.

Their tongues tangled and Cas couldn't control himself anymore, he dove into the kiss, roughly sucking Dean's tongue into his mouth as his hands scrabbled to pull his t-shirt over his head. They broke contact long enough for him to get the shirt off and Cas paused, breathing heavily as he stared down at Dean.

From the moment his Grace had started to slip he had dreamed of nothing but this moment, a thousand different scenarios, a million different variations and not one of them lived up to the real thing. Dean's body underneath his, chest heaving as he gasped for breath between kisses, lips and cheeks flushed red, eyes intense as they stared into his.

It was better than his Grace.

Cas lowered his head and nuzzled his nose into Dean's neck, lips lightly brushing his collarbone. Dean gripped Cas's hips before grinding his own up into them, the friction causing a delicious sensation in his cock. He did it again and Cas moaned, he could feel Dean's erection through their jeans and he pressed down into it, mimicking Dean's movements.

"Cas," Dean mumbled before capturing his lips again. "Take your pants off," he ordered and Cas obliged, shucking out of them quickly, taking his shoes and socks off with them. Dean did the same and they were left in their underwear. Cas watched as Dean's eyes roamed over Cas's body.

"I was glad when you finally ditched Jimmy's suit. It hid you. I remember the first time I saw you without a shirt I was so surprised at how muscular you actually were," Dean confessed, running his hands lightly over the muscles in question. "You picked a damn beautiful body. Fitting for a beautiful angel I guess," he said shyly, cheeks turning a little pink.

Cas cocked his head to the side. "You think I'm beautiful?"

Dean nodded, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Cas smiled and kissed him again, slowly rocking his hips into Dean's. Dean shifted beneath him, moved his legs so that Cas was nestled between them. Cas pulled back, blinking in surprise. He understood what that meant, had seen enough of Dean's porn videos that he understood the mechanics, the subtle movements each partner made to signify dominance or submission, and Dean was being completely submissive.

"Cas, I want you to…" he trailed off, licking his lips nervously. Cas saved him from answering by kissing him again.

"Ok," he said solemnly when he pulled back for air. "Do you have any lubricant?"

Dean swallowed thickly, Cas didn't have to be an angel to feel the fear coming from him. "In my duffle. Did you bring it in?"

Cas nodded but made no move to get it. "Dean, we don't have to do this," he told him.

"Yeah, I know. Cas, I want to. I'm nervous, but I want to."

"Ok," he conceded, kissing Dean quickly before getting up to get the lube. He pulled the bottle out of Dean's bag and turned back to the bed, nearly dropping the bottle at what he saw.

Dean had taken his boxers off and he lay there, completely naked. His legs were spread and his knees were bent, feet planted firmly on the mattress, an obvious invitation. His body was breathtaking. Cas knew every inch of it inside and out, he'd put it back together himself after pulling Dean from the pit, but his human eyes had never seen him entirely naked, and he was the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"Don't just stand there Cas," he said with his trademark cocky grin, beckoning him with a finger. Cas licked his lips and moved to the bed, stepping out of his own underwear in the process. He heard Dean suck in a sharp breath. "Jesus Cas," he whispered, eyes glued to Cas's stiff cock.

Cas felt his cheeks go warm. He knew Jimmy Novak had been considered well-endowed, but Dean's apparent approval made his heart soar. He climbed on top of Dean and kissed the surprised look off his face. He pulled back to kneel between Dean's thighs. He quickly poured some lube over his fingers and pressed his index finger against Dean's hole. He stopped, glancing up at Dean's face. Dean took a deep breath and nodded.

Cas gently pushed his finger in. Dean tensed a little and he stilled, but then he relaxed and Cas pressed forward. The tight heat was exhilarating and he wanted to remove his finger and just take Dean but he knew he had to go slow. He crooked his finger a little and Dean gasped, body jerking in pleasure. Cas carefully added a second finger, twisting and scissoring, stretching Dean so he could fill him. He experimentally probed Dean's prostate, causing Dean to moan and arch his back. Dean gripped his own cock, slowly pumping his fist and Cas pushed him away with his free hand. He took over, twisting his wrist on the upstroke, sliding his thumb over the head to collect the precum that had gathered there.

"Cas…" Dean moaned, sending a shiver up Cas's spine. Dean was coming undone beneath him and it was his doing, his hands and fingers that were bringing him to pieces, hands and fingers the same that put him back together in the first place.

Cas slipped a third finger inside, pumping them slowly, stretching Dean, brushing against his prostate teasingly. Dean moaned again and gripped Cas's shoulders. "Cas if you don't fuck me right now I'm going to flip you over and fuck you," he said between gritted teeth.

He didn't have to be asked twice, he quickly slicked his cock up, lined himself up and pushed. He could see the pain on Dean's features as he adjusted to fit him, could feel Dean's muscles tightening around him, loosening, and tightening again. He stilled, resting his forehead on Dean's shoulder, faded handprint under his eyelids as they both gasped for breath. He had never felt a pleasure like these, not anywhere in Heaven. Only in Dean.

"Are you ok?" he asked Dean, fighting the instinct to move, to take, to push himself into Dean until they were on and the same. He couldn't, not until he knew Dean was ok. Dean nodded as he slid his hands around to Cas's ass, giving it a playful squeeze. Dean wiggled his lips, pushing himself down onto Cas as much as he could. Cas got the message and pulled halfway out before thrusting back in again, eliciting a moan from Dean when he brushed against his prostate.

It was all the encouragement he needed and he began to move in earnest, thrusting into Dean mercilessly. His breath was coming in small gasps as he nosed the soft skin of Dean's neck. His hand moved over Dean's shaft swiftly, jerking him off in time to his thrusts. Dean moved his own hips and together they built a matching rhythm.

"Dean…" Cas moaned. He wasn't going to last much longer, the pressure and friction, the simple idea of being inside Dean, giving him pleasure and receiving it from him as well, it was too much. There was a low pull in his belly, his hips were losing rhythm, instead they were slamming into Dean desperately.

Dean, in return, seemed to be in the same state he was. Dean ran his fingers through Cas's hair, over his neck, down his back, roaming restlessly. "Cas, come for me," he moaned, back arching, sweat-slicked chest sliding against Cas's. Cas thrust himself deep, as deep as he could as he came, mind whiting out as pleasure he couldn't even comprehend flowed through his body. Dean came too, head thrown back against the mattress, lips parted slightly, eyelids screwed closed. His muscles clenched with the force of his orgasm, milked Cas through his own.

Moments later Cas became aware that he was on his back and Dean was stroking his hair gently. "That was amazing Cas," he told him, a blessed out smile on his face. The smile was infectious and Cas felt one form on his own face.

"Dean, I love you," he said, needing the words to be in the air. Dean's eyes flashed dark.

"Cas, I'm not going to pretend that I understand that. That I understand why you would sell your Grace for me, because it just doesn't make any sense. To be honest, I don't know why anyone does anything for me. Hell, if Dad had just let me die in that hospital instead of selling his soul to save me everyone would be better off."

Cas rolled onto his side, eyes boring holes into Dean's. "How do you figure that?"

Dean shrugged. "Dad would've been able to protect Sammy, he never would've gotten killed. If I had died then I wouldn't have gone to Hell, and I wouldn't have broken the first seal," he said matter-of-factly. He let a hand trail absent-mindedly down the center of Cas's bare chest as he said the next line. "And you never would've lost everything."

Cas grabbed Dean's chin roughly, moving his face so he could glare at him. "Dean I did not lose anything. I gained everything. In all my thousands of years of existence you have been the only thing that has ever mattered."

Dean swallowed thickly. "Cas… I love you too."

Cas's lips parted in surprise. He hadn't expected Dean to say it. He hadn't known he'd even felt it. He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Dean's lips.

"I know you still don't understand, but that's acceptable. I have the rest of my life to prove you're worthy," Cas said simply.

Dean smiled and pulled him into his arms. Cas snuggled against him, eyes closing in expectation of sleep, but Dean nudged him, a concerned look suddenly on his face. "Wait a second, did you say you sold your Grace to Crowley?"

Cas grimaced. "Yes, I did."

Dean's lip snarled up in disgust. "That prick has your Grace? Wait," he said, horror blossoming on his face. "Was it like other demon deals?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did you have to… Kiss him?" Dean asked, the words coming out of his mouth like they tasted bad.

"Yes. It was very unpleasant."

Dean mimed vomiting. "Jesus Cas, forget the fact that you sold your Grace, you kissed Crowley to save my life?"

Cas smiled before tucking himself back into Dean's side. "I told you I loved you."