Now I'm in our secret place

Alone in your embrace

Where all my wrongs have been erased

You have forgiven

All the promises and lies

All the times I compromised

All the times you were denied

You have forgiven

Bobby Singer was definitely far from perfect. He was moody and liable to erupt with more destructive force than a volcano when pushed far enough, or in the right places. He gave his all when it came to those he cared for, most of the time without thought or concern for himself. And it was mostly taken for granted, mainly from Dean and Sam Winchester. But he kept on giving, offering them a home when they had none, showing them support when they felt at their weakest. He was stubborn and argumentative, and defended his corner with an unwillingness to back down that frankly was rare nowadays. He was deeply emotionally scarred from the loss of his wife, and it was unlikely that scar would ever truly heal.

And yet it was these imperfections and flaws that had first attracted Crowley's attention in the first place.

The King of Hell had no interest in something that was perfect; demons rarely liked things that were pure or wholly untainted. It was in his nature to take something like that and twist it, morphing it into a thing of darkness and evil. Holding Bobby's soul as he had done for that brief time gave Crowley plenty of time to find all of its scars and blemishes, to find things about the hunter he never had before. And before he'd realised what was happening, he found himself intrigued by Bobby. The way he was knocked down and got straight back up again, the way he was a constant source of support for 'his boys', the way he kept plugging away, never backing down or giving up the fight.

And so Crowley found himself watching Bobby from a distance even after he had returned the soul. He was reluctant to give it back, found he wanted to keep it about his person for however long he continued to live, ensuring it stayed intact and safe. He told himself he was being pathetic after coming to that rather embarrassing realisation. He was the King of Hell after all. What the hell was he doing, pining after some human? But he continued to check up on the hunter all the same, keeping tabs on him, making sure he was safe.

At first, when he had found himself physically chained to Bobby, he was furious. On principle, he detested anything that believed itself to be his master; to be in control of him. He was his own boss, had never been one for taking orders. So to be trapped in a place and for something to be well and truly out of his span of control left him in a rage.

But after a while, he had come to appreciate it. After all, it meant that he was able to spend time near Bobby and his soul without feeling creepy or like a stalker about it. He found himself admiring the little quirks Bobby had after a while. Like staying up until God knew what time at night, reading through book after book, trying to help solve whatever the Winchester brothers had brought crashing down on all of them this time around, or automatically pouring the demon a glass of whiskey despite how much he bitched and moaned about how it was swill. And after a couple of days had passed, Bobby relaxed a little in his company, and Crowley got to see a side of him that wasn't revolving around the job. It was different, and he found he rather liked it.

He had meant what he'd said in the Winchester's motel room. He was enjoying Bobby's company, and he genuinely wasn't saying it just to get on everyone's last wick.

But the conversation that had taken place around him back at that moment had caught his attention, and he'd begun listening intently. The mention of angels intervening had gripped him, and it had started the cogs turning in his brain. It was perfectly true that an angel would have had the power to do the things that had been happening to them all; it certainly wasn't a Cupid. That idea was frankly laughable. And after all, what creature did something from Heaven ever take orders from, other than the Almighty Himself or a higher-ranking angel? So, Crowley had started trying to subtly look for the faintest sense, the smallest clue as to what was behind everything. And finally, his patience paid off.

It had happened the next day. He could feel the tensions building in the Winchester's motel room, and found the whole thing rather amusing in all honesty. When Bobby had glanced up from the latest leather-bound journal he was scouring to ask what was so funny, he'd simply shrugged his shoulders and grinned wider. Bobby had replied with his usual eye roll and mutter of 'Idjit', which only made Crowley's smile grow even further. And that was when he'd sensed it. It was unmistakeable, and he could pinpoint it anywhere. The aura of an angel, and a powerful one at that. Michael and Lucifer, he knew, were still locked safely in the Cage. Raphael was dead; he'd witnessed the evidence of that himself. So that left just one; Gabriel.

At first, he'd been tempted to speak his mind, to tell Bobby what he'd realised. But then he got to thinking. If he just came out and said it, Bobby would march round to Dean and then he'd storm outside and demand that their bonds be broken. Crowley took a chance to observe Bobby from where he sat. The older hunter was muttering under his breath as his eyes scanned the page, completely absorbed in his work. The demon felt a smile playing at his lips, a genuine one, and his eyes fell back to the table. Maybe he wasn't ready to be separated from Bobby and that unique soul of his just yet.

He let a sigh escape him and didn't acknowledge the confused expression Bobby shot him for it. When had he fallen so far from his former glory? And why didn't he give a single damn about it?

Later that evening, after the Winchesters and Castiel had left to hunt the demon, Bobby and Crowley were still sat on the sofa in their own motel room. Crowley was idly flicking through channels on the television set, never pausing on one thing for very long, a look of intense boredom on his face. Bobby was beside him, yet another book perched in his lap, glass of cheap whiskey in the other. Every so often, Crowley would sigh with irritation and jab his thumb down on the remote, and Bobby would look up at the interruption to fix the demon a glare.

He could remember the first time he'd ever met the demon. He'd shot him. Twice. And sometimes it was more than tempting to do so again, particularly when they were first shackled together. He was almost ready, more than once, to drag the demon to Dean's room and order him to shoot Crowley there and then. The demon was arrogant, he was crafty and he was willing to push others into the line of fire to protect himself. But despite all of that, Crowley was interesting to have around. He was funny, there was no point denying it, he was charismatic and he was a worthy adversary of Bobby's own sarcasm. And he'd allowed Bobby to keep the use of his legs after he'd been forced to give back his soul. It was a bizarre, totally out-of-character act that had left the older hunter very confused for quite a long time. Hell, even now, he was clueless as to why Crowley had displayed such an usual sign of kindness.

He could never remain truly fuming at the demon either. He'd get angry, no doubt about it, but after a while it'd melt away again, and if anyone had a right to hold a grudge over Crowley, it was him or Dean. Dean certainly showed exactly how he felt about the King of Hell, but Bobby didn't feel the rage at Crowley that Dean did. At first, he'd told himself it was because getting pissy whenever he had to interact with Crowley while they were stuck with one another would serve no purpose, and that he'd just have to bury his hate. But that was the point; there was no hate to bury.

When he'd first been trapped with Crowley, he'd wanted to get the hell away again as quickly as he could. But the longer he spent with the demon, the more time they were alone, the more he began to feel comfortable in his company. Almost as if Crowley was an old friend, and not something that had once held his soul. They bickered, they exchanged witty retorts and quips, but there was no real malice in it. And recently, he'd begun to feel a spark inside himself that he thought had been long extinguished. It grew, little by little, every time the demon made a flirtatious comment, or he brushed past Bobby and the hunter's skin touched the demon's. There was the unmistakeable tingle of electricity, and Bobby knew Crowley had noticed it too; he'd caught enough of the demon's surprised expressions afterwards.

But he was being ridiculous. Why in the name of God Himself was he acting like some lovesick teenage girl around the King of Hell? It was dangerous territory, but Crowley was addicting, and slowly but surely, Bobby found himself craving more. But right now, all he wanted to do was take the book he was holding and smack the demon around the head with it.

He closed it with a snap as Crowley changed channels yet again, just in time for the sound of a huge explosion to fill the room, making Bobby jump. "For God's sake, if you can't find something to watch, just turn the damn thing off!"

Crowley peered across at him, frowning. "Is it bugging you that much?"

"I'd like to see you try and focus on reading when every five seconds the background noise changes."

The demon sighed, and switched the set off. "There. Happy now?" He began tapping his fingers on the arm of the sofa, looking sulky. Bobby's glare returned to his face, grip tightening on the book and glass as he refrained from throwing one of the objects at the demon.

"And cut that out too, ya idjit."

"I'm bored."

"Then find something to do to entertain yourself!" Bobby snapped, before he opened the book again.

"Sure thing, darling." Crowley replied with a sly grin.

He had just reached the end of the line he'd been reading before he'd got distracted by his own mental ramblings, when the book was grabbed and pulled out of his hand. He looked up, ready to snap at Crowley, to ask him just what the fuck he was playing at, but the words got lost on the way to his mouth. The demon was right in his face, grin spreading from ear to ear, leaning ever closer. One hand was guiding the book gently to the floor whilst the other was positioned against the sofa arm directly next to Bobby's back. And then, with no warning whatsoever, Crowley pressed his lips to Bobby's.

The hunter's mind exploded with a flurry of questions. Why was Crowley kissing him? What had brought this on? Why the hell wasn't he fighting back? And, probably most importantly, why did he like it? It wasn't just down to the fact he hadn't had any action for who knew how long; no, this was something more. It was different to the kiss they'd shared when Crowley was sealing his deal. There was no genuine purpose to this kiss, and it was softer; much gentler than Bobby had ever imagined Crowley could be. And then there was the now familiar spark that roared into life the moment they touched.

The demon pulled back a moment later, grin still lacing his lips. "I've told you to lay off that cheap crap, Bobby." He said, inclining his head towards the glass still in the hunter's other hand. "Tastes awful."

And without waiting for a reply, he was leaning in to capture the hunter's lips once more. Only this time, Bobby didn't sit there unresponsive. He kissed back, leaning down to place the glass on the floor, research long forgotten.

Well, the sound of that voice snapped Dean out of his trance quicker than anything else would have done. He instantly felt anger pulsing all around his body as he pulled away from Castiel to peer around him at the door. And standing there, right beside Sam, was the midget archangel himself. Dean felt his anger turn swiftly to rage, and he stepped past Castiel to glare more effectively at Gabriel.

"You?" He snarled. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh that's rich!" Gabriel replied indignantly. "I think if anyone's got the right to be asking questions around here, Winchester, it's gonna be me! Mind telling me why you were sucking face with my brother just now?"

Dean spluttered, going from pale to scarlet in the blink of an eye. Eventually, he managed to squeak, "'Sucking face'? Hardly!"

"Oh, so you want to be sucking face with him?" Gabriel questioned, folding his arms over his chest. Beside him, Sam was covering his mouth with his hand, badly disguising the fact he was sniggering.

Thankfully, Dean was saved from answering this time by Castiel. The angel had stood behind Dean, observing him cryptically, even more focused than normal, head tilted slightly. And as the hunter began another uncanny impersonation of a goldfish, a small smile crossed his face. The angel then reached forwards and tapped the hunter on the shoulder. Dean whirled around, and when he did, the lapels of his jacket were instantly seized. Dean only had time to register the smile on Castiel's face as he was tugged forwards, before his lips collided once more with Castiel's.

The angel was still gripping his lapels tightly, as if he couldn't bear to let Dean go. This thought made him kiss Castiel harder, momentarily forgetting about the angel's lack of knowledge or experience in the field. But it seemed he was a fast learner. The hands on his jacket only pulled harder, bringing them even closer, melding their bodies together.

Dean had just angled his head, arms wrapped tightly around Castiel to deepen the kiss even further, when he heard a faint snapping sound. Blinking, he pulled away from the angel, his face a picture of shock and confusion. Castiel looked equally as baffled as he did, before his eyes widened. Without a word, he released his grip on Dean, and backed away a few steps. The hunter started to move after him and then stopped when he realised just how far away Castiel had managed to get. He remained fixed in place, jaw hanging, before he raised his arm to his eye line.

"It's broken?" He asked, eyes sliding from his pale wrist to stare at Castiel.

"I.. I believe so." The angel replied, and then in the blink of an eye, he was gone. Dean only had time to start before he was back, and at a much closer proximity to Dean, small smile lacing his lips. "It appears I have also had my powers returned to me."

"Yep," Gabriel's voice rang out from the doors. "It's cos the two of you finally opened your eyes!"

"How do you.." Dean began, but trailed off as the expression on his face darkened.

"Oh come on Deano! I know Sammy's the bright one, but this obvious, even for you! All you had to do was be a little honest with yourself, do a little self-reflection, and voila! Bond removed!" Gabriel grinned. "Although I must say, I was seriously debating whether I should just appear in front of you guys and make you kiss. It would have been much quicker and easier, on reflection."

"You.. Did this..?" Dean snarled, green eyes turning the colour and coldness of steel in a heartbeat.

"Well yeah, Deano." Gabriel said, tone making it sound as if this was obvious. "Who else could it have been? Besides, you two would never have moved past eye-fucking if I hadn't taken it upon myself to help you move on."

"He's got a point, Dean." Sam said with a grin. "Neither of you were gonna make the first move without a push to force you to."
"Exactly! All I had to do was get a Cupid to cover for me, but nooo, I underestimated that infamous Winchester stubborn streak." Gabriel heaved a dramatic sigh, grinning up at Sam as he did so.

"You.. I.. I'm gonna grab you by the neck and.." Dean seemed beyond words, and resorted to making a violent gesture in mid-air with his hands.

"That's a little harsh, don't ya think..?" Gabriel asked, pouting.

Dean was silenced when he felt a warm hand enclose over the wound on his arm. In the blink of an eye, it was gone. Even his clothes were cleaned of blood, leaving no evidence there had ever been a cut in the first place. Then, before he could say a word, he felt the ground twitch out from underneath his feet before it was suddenly back with such force, it left him staggering. Luckily, a pair of strong arms were before him in an instant, ready to catch him. He found himself back in their motel room and glanced up into Castiel's face, to see that the angel was smirking.

"You will never grow accustomed to flying, will you, Dean?"

Dean shook his head, then spotted his bed just behind them and felt a predatory smirk curl his own mouth. He leant up to press another kiss to Castiel, and pulled away again quickly. And he totally didn't get a rush of happiness when Castiel moved after him, looking disappointed. He didn't.

"Come with me, Cas." He said, taking the angel's hand and leading him across the room.

"Where are we going?" Castiel sounded genuinely confused, and when Dean glanced back, his head was tilted to the side.

"I'm gonna teach you a new way to get to Heaven, Cas." He replied, and felt a kick of exhilaration when Castiel's cheeks gained a gentle pink hue. It only got worse when that smirk returned, and Castiel's gaze hardened.

"Yes Dean, teach me."

It was almost as if he knew the dream Dean had had, and was deliberately doing all he could to remind the hunter of it. Dean smiled as that thought crossed his mind, removing Castiel's trench coat and suit jacket, allowing both to fall to floor. It was almost surreal that he'd reached this point. He had no idea how the angel had managed to work his way into Dean's every conscious thought, but he knew he didn't regret it. Not for a second.

He didn't know when it had happened, but there was no point in denying it anymore, was there?

Dean Winchester was in love with an angel of the Lord; with Castiel. And if the look in the angel's stunning blue eyes was anything to go by as he pulled Dean back towards him, the feeling was mutual.

He found out two things that evening. The first was that Castiel, although inexperienced in every sense of the word when it came to physical contact, was a very fast learner and as an angel, unused to being dominated. The second, and probably most significant discovery, was that not all virgins just lay there and allowed their first experience to wash over them. This virgin could give as good as he got.

"So.. Whatcha wanna do, kiddo?"

Sam glanced across at Gabriel, eyebrows rising. "Hm?"

They were both stood in the motel car park. After Dean and Castiel had vanished, Gabriel took Sam's hand and flew them back to the complex. Sam could still feel the warmth of the archangel's touch on his fingers, and he was in no hurry for it to fade. He had sat himself down on the floor, his back pressed to their car, resting after the night's tiring festivities. He was surprised when the archangel took a seat beside him, rather than zap himself off to a chocolate factory or whatever the hell it was he did to unwind.

"Well, I highly doubt you want to go anywhere near your room right now.." Gabriel smirked.

Sam grimaced. "Yeah, I'll pass on the chance to see my brother defiling an angel. I thought we could go sit with Bobby and -"

Gabriel, however, smirked even wider at that as his eyes slid over to the rough direction Bobby's motel room was. "Not a good idea. Unless you want to be haunted forever by the mental image of your adoptive father getting fucked b-"

"AAGH!" Sam screamed, pressing his hands over his ears. "GABRIEL!"

The archangel was roaring with laughter, clutching at his sides. "It's true!"

"Doesn't mean I need to hear about it!" Sam cried, shuddering. "Oh God, brain bleach! Brain bleach!"

Gabriel was still sniggering beside him, and even Sam felt a smile breaking through his horrified expression after a while. The archangel was infectious in every sense of the word; his laugh and smile the most contagious of the whole package. The younger Winchester leant back further against the cool metal of the car, head thrown back, staring up at the sky. The inky carpet of darkness was broken only by a smattering of silvery stars. The clouds had been chased away, leaving the night blissfully clear and cool. Sam glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw Gabriel staring just as intently at the stars as he was.

And that's when a question popped into his head.

"Hey, Gabriel?"

The archangel turned away from the sky to look up at Sam. "Yeah?"

"Trying to keep the maturity of this conversation at adult level here, but.. You said you liked me, back at the warehouse. What was that about?"

He could hear his heartbeat speed ing and was shocked that the archangel couldn't too. A small voice in the back of his head was screaming that he was making a mistake; that he should shut the fuck up, right now. It was stupid to take a risk, to ask Gabriel a question like that, when it was obvious how comfortable he was in Sam's presence. What if Sam's questioning freaked him out? What if he ran away again, but didn't come back this time? Sam had only just got Gabriel back, and now he was risking losing him again. But the question was out now, there was no turning back.

He was expecting a shrug, and for Gabriel to nonchalantly announce that he had no idea what Sam was referring to, or for him to fix Sam with a confused expression. In the least, he expected a short, blunt explanation about how Sam was more accepting than Dean, and therefore more likeable, but in a strictly friend-zone basis. The thought of that particular reaction sent a wave of ice cold slipping down Sam's spine as he silently pleaded for any other sort of response. Hell, confusion was far better than flat out denial any day.

But what hadn't even crossed his mind was for the archangel's hazel eyes to widen substantially, and for him to look away abruptly, remaining silent. Sam noticed the familiar twitch of his shoulders, and his mind jolted him back to earlier when Gabriel had shown him the shadows of his wings. Panicked that Gabriel was going to try and escape by flying away, Sam reached forwards and grabbed a handful of the archangel's shirt. Through the fabric, he could feel the archangel's back and the jutting bones that were his shoulder blades.

"You're not going anywhere 'til you answer me." He said firmly, but they both knew that if Gabriel chose to leave, there was practically nothing Sam could do to stop him. He was an archangel, after all.

But Gabriel didn't move. He didn't try to brush Sam's hand off his jacket. He remained sat there beside Sam, his head turned away towards the motel rooms, the shadows of the car completely obscuring the expression on his face. He was giving Sam a perfect view of his exposed neck, and the hunter could still feel the smooth run of his back. It was causing his imagination to wander to certain other places which was especially dangerous right now. Gabriel could read his mind. He shook his head, desperate to clear those particular thoughts.

After a few moments of further silence, Sam gave the clothes in his hand a gentle tug.

"Hey, don't make me go get Cas to bind us together." He said with an attempt at a grin. "I doubt Dean would be too happy with you if I burst in, saying I need to borrow Cas and his angel mojo just 'cos you won't answer me."

That made Gabriel laugh, and the sound warmed a little more of Sam inside, even though it only lasted a moment or so. "Not only would Castiel not be able to do that, Sammy, I doubt you'd enjoy the experience much. I'd drive you crazy."

Sam scoffed, and continued before his courage fled him again. "Seriously? You see everything about Dean and Cas, and Bobby and Crowley, but with me, you're blind?"

He released his grip on Gabriel's jacket and instead curled his fingers around the archangel's chin, before applying gentle pressure to make Gabriel look at him. With his angelic strength, Gabriel wouldn't have allowed himself to be moved unless he wanted to, so Sam was genuinely shocked when the archangel moved easily in his grasp in order to face him. His hazel eyes were gleaming, too bright to not be ethereal, his eyebrows knotted in confusion.

"I dunno when or how you did it Gabe, but somewhere along the line, I might have just fallen for you." Sam whispered, voice weak, and before he could talk himself out of it, leant forwards and pressed his lips to Gabriel's.

The archangel made a muffled noise of surprise, before he squirmed. Sam was forced to pull back, his heart going a mile a minute. His hand slipped from Gabriel's face, all colour draining out of his own. The voice in his head was screaming again, telling him to come up with something, anything, that would sound remotely convincing. But the fact was, there wasn't anything he could say to rectify the situation.

He'd taken a shot and he'd got shot down. It was as simple as that.

What did he expect, really? This was Gabriel. He was a fricking archangel. What the hell would he want with someone like Sam? Someone broken, twisted beyond repair? Someone who –

"You have got about three seconds to shut up before I shut you up." Gabriel snarled suddenly, looking far more menacing than he had in the warehouse.

As Sam watched, his face the picture of shock, the fury in his expression ebbed away to be replaced with a suggestive grin. As the hunter sat there frozen, Gabriel's hand made its way to bunch up in his shirt, tugging him down violently so that they were sat at the same eye line. The now warm spark in Gabriel's eyes coupled with the grin still fixed in place were chasing away Sam's inner terror, to be replaced with something much warmer, much more demanding.

"Wanna see what else I can do with those bonds, Sammy?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"To quote you, hells yeah." Sam replied, mirroring Gabriel's smirk, feeling something stir deep within him at the thought.

~ * ~ Fin ~ * ~

Hope you guys enjoyed this! I certainly enjoyed writing it (When writer's block wasn't being a royal assbutt..), and reading your lovely reviews always put such a big smile on my face! :D I love you all! I'll happily give you all the hugs Castiel deserves!