It was eight days from when they'd reached an understanding when Dean's willpower cracked. Castiel lay peacefully asleep, one arm curled around Dean's waist, but Dean could hardly look at Castiel without feeling like he'd betrayed Castiel's trust. Now that Dean was so attached to Castiel, now that they were so entangled, how could Dean do his job correctly? How could he allow Castiel to face any risk, even those that the Lord dictated Castiel should face, when Dean knew he could prevent all and ensure that no harm befell his love? How could Dean expose himself to the profound dangers he sometimes faced, knowing that if something harmed Dean, Castiel would be aggrieved? It had been wrong of Dean to allow this to proceed; were he strong as he ought to be, he would never have appeared to Castiel that night a week ago, would never have let Castiel tend his wings six months ago, would never have prevented the little toddler from hitting his head on a table all those years ago. It was too late now. Castiel faced a lifetime of unknown risks and unknown dangers and Dean had increased those by his behavior and choices. Dean didn't deserve to be Castiel's guardian angel. With a flick of his wings, he ascended to heaven before he could convince himself to stay, leaving Castiel truly alone for the first time in twenty years.

Dean appeared in his modest apartment, a single white room furnished with sink, a mirror, flowing drapes, a book case with a few tomes, and a reclining chair designed to comfortably sleep Dean's winged body, upholstered in red velvet. Dean had never bothered to gather more belongings; he was hardly there. Usually he was eager to leave, because leaving meant he had a new assignment and Dean lived for his job. Now, having a couple minutes in his own space helped Dean gather his wits and firm his resolve. Stepping out into the hallway, he headed towards the building's main entrance, intent on walking to the assignments office rather than flying.

"Dean!"

Crap, I should have flown, I should have…

"Dean, don't you have an assignment right now? What are you doing here? Did something happen to your charge?"

"Hey, Sam," Dean replied woodenly, plastering a false smile onto his face and turning to face his brother. Technically, all angels with whom Dean shared rank were his brothers, for the Lord had declared them so, but Sam and Dean were unusual in that they had both of their angelic parents actually in common. Pregnancies among angels were rare; for the same couple to have multiple children was even more rare. Mary and John had been dedicated to each other, though, and had been mated during a peaceful period of the ancient past. They'd born Dean and Sam only centuries apart. "Everything is fine. I came back to request a different angel be assigned to my charge." Saying the words allowed seared painfully through Dean's mind, caused his chest to clench tightly. The shocked expression on Sam's face only exacerbated the pain.

"No! You? You've never failed an assignment!" Sam exclaimed, eyebrows rising so high they disappeared beneath Sam's long chestnut bangs. His brother was good looking, his face more feminine than Dean's, his body more masculine, though they were both biologically intersex.

"Well, I've failed now," said Dean gruffly. Turning away before Sam could see the tears in his eyes, Dean took deliberate steps towards the building's main exit. "How about you, are you between jobs? Or have you and Gabriel finally received orders to stay together full-time until one of you gets pregnant?" Which of them would bear a child was a topics Dean didn't want to think about until he absolutely had no choice but to learn the answer.

Sam was in front of him instantly, wings spread to block the way, a hand outstretched to arrest Dean's progress. Dean froze. "What's going on, Dean?"

"Nothing," Dean lied, resisting the urge to continue this absurd game by leap-frogging his brother to the exit.

"Really?"

"I don't want to talk about it," snapped Dean. "Maybe when this is all said and done…"

"Bullshit," Sam said. Dean blinked, surprised to hear the swear word fall so easily from his brother's lips. "If you didn't want to talk about it, you'd be gone already. You wouldn't have even come to the dormitory, you'd have gone straight to the assignment office. Something is going on, and you're going to tell me what it is. How about we head back to earth, keep an eye on your mortal and sort this out?"

Disgruntled, Dean shifted from foot to foot, his wings flaring to catch air and then lowering again. He shouldn't talk. He shouldn't go back to earth. He shouldn't risk seeing Castiel again. He should go directly to the office and turn in his resignation, accept the embarrassment and the sniggers that would follow him around when word got out of his failure. The urge to escape was powerful, but Sam's firm expression, pinning Dean in place, was even more compelling. Dean struggled against Sam's determination and his own desire to return to the warmth of Castiel's embrace. When Dean didn't back down, Sam quirked an eyebrow out him and gave him an incredulous smirk, and finally Dean surrendered, wings and shoulders slumping.

"Fine."

An instant later he and Sam sat in Castiel's living room. Castiel was still asleep, fortunately; Dean could feel his love's presence palpably through the walls in a way unlike anything Dean had experienced during previous assignments. Castiel's breaths were like unto Dean breathing; their hearts beat in tandem. Sam frowned, sniffed the air, gave Dean a sidelong look, and settled onto the armrest of Castiel's sitting chair; Dean collapsed heavily onto the edge of the couch, wings spread out to his sides.

"What's going on, Dean?" Sam asked, meeting Dean's eyes intensely. Dean swallowed hard, eyes swimming with tears.

"I made a mistake," said Dean. "I am not capable of continuing to guard here as I should. Can we leave it at that?"

"From everything I can sense, your mortal is fine," said Sam, his tone making it clear he knew that wasn't what Dean meant. "I don't understand what the problem is."

"I…" Dean colored, searching for the right words, searching for any words he could admit to. "I…" I showed myself to my mortal unnecessarily, I used magic to protect him even when I wasn't called upon to do so, I grew jealous of others who my mortal felt affection for, I craved Castiel for myself, I told him so, I told him everything, I appeared because he asked me to, I made love to him, I told him I adored him. "I fell in love."

Sam snorted. "Don't be ridiculous, Dean, of course you did. We all love our humans. I even loved that jerk Marcus Antonius. It's not like we have much choice."

"No, Sam," Dean said, angrier than he'd have anticipated. Sam's eyes widened at Dean's tone, his expression giving way to a tight frown. "I love him."

"Like…love him?" asked Sam. Dean had no idea what Sam was trying to get at.

"I love him – as a person, as a man, as a…as a partner, the way humans fall in love, the way our parents were in love, the way you love Gabriel," Dean explained in a rush before the admission could choke him. "I love Castiel."

There was a painfully long pause. Dean slowly withered under Sam's scrutiny.

"Oh."

Dean flinched to have that single word be the only answer he received. Shoulders hunched, he stared at the floor, elbows on his knees, hands clasped, shaking with the jitters.

"So that's why you want a reassignment?" Sam posited uncertainly.

"Not exactly," muttered Dean. He waited for Sam to say something, hoped desperately that he would. Chancing a glance at his brother, Dean found Sam staring him down intently, patiently, and Dean knew that nothing more would be said until Dean explained himself further. "He, um, he knows."

"You told him?"

"Yes – no – that's not how it happened," Dean fumbled helplessly. "Castiel can see me, sometimes, even when I'm incorporeal. He knew I was around, knew where I was. I was hurt helping him last winter and he wanted to help me, and I let him – I know, I know I shouldn't have, okay, please don't say it, I should have asked for reassignment then – and after that things were, I don't know, different. And then last week he…he asked me to…look, he initiated everything that happened, okay? I didn't stop him, because he wanted it, because I wanted it too, but if he hadn't spoken first, if he hadn't said…I would never have…oh, God, Sam, what am I going to do? I don't want to leave him, I don't want to…"

"Woah, woah, slow down, Dean – what did he initiate?" Sam asked. "What happened? Why does this whole place smell like it's been coated in your scent, and why, why, are you seeking a reassignment if you don't want to?"

Tears flooded Dean's eyes and he couldn't bear to look up, couldn't risk Sam seeing. "He wanted to be with me. And...and I wanted to be with him. So...we did."

"You've been having sex with your charge," Sam said, bluntness cause Dean to cringe. "Alright. What's the problem?"

"Huh?" Startled, Dean jerked his head up to find Sam eying him curiously.

"Wait, Dean, do you mean that before this you've never slept with a human you were guarding?"

"No! Of course not!" Dean spluttered. "I had orders, Sam, precise orders, and I followed them, I always followed them to the letter until now!"

"Did you orders explicitly say you shouldn't share a physical relationship with this man – Castiel?" Sam said, saying the unfamiliar name uncertainly.

Dean combed his memory, tried to remember what, exactly, his orders said. It'd been more than 20 years since he last saw them, and though his memory was good the orders had been generic. "Same thing as they usually say," Dean hedged. "Named the mortal I was to watch, that kind of thing. I guess I didn't read it that carefully, but they never mention sex. Not getting physically involved is, like, standing order number 1."

"It's actually standing order 243," Sam amended dryly. "Dean, have you ever wanted to sleep with one of your charges before?" Dean shook his head. "What's different about Castiel?" Dean shrugged. It was impossible to put into words all the things that were separated Castiel from Dean's usual charges. Castiel was smart and funny, attractive and caring, loyal and helpful, so tender and sweet. "You said he could see you. Didn't that strike you as weird?" Dean shrugged again. "Have you ever met a mortal who could see a guardian angel, even their own, unless we manifested?" Dean shook his head again. "Yeah, neither have I. I think we need to get a look at your orders."

"I can't—"

"Dean—"

"—I can't leave Castiel," Dean finished. He'd been so close to leaving, he'd known if he came back he'd not be able to leave again, and he'd been right. Castiel was feet away from him, sleeping innocently and happily, assuming Dean yet beside him. The thought of how much it would hurt Castiel to wake alone was more painful than any physical injury Dean could remember experiencing in his entire duration.

"I'm not suggesting you leave him," Sam gave him a gentle smile that made Dean shift with embarrassment. "I'll go look and let you know. Gabriel is busy, so it's not like I have anything better to do." Sam and Gabriel had been lovers for a long time, but it was only recently that they had been authorized to reproduce, to become an official family. Of course, Gabriel was an arch-angel, so the normal rules scarce applied to him.

"Thanks, Sam," said Dean gratefully.

"Take care of yourself, Dean," Sam rose and crossed to Dean, giving him a quick hug. "Take care of Castiel, too. There's something weird going on here. I'll be back soon."

Sam vanished with the sound of flapping wings. Hunched on the couch, Dean didn't move for a long time, lost in thought. Dean's orders didn't say anything they didn't already know; Sam wasn't going to find any answers there. Dean could still go, report directly to the office and demand that he be replaced. If he did that, he'd never see Castiel again, but what future was there for them? Castiel was human. In a short sixty or seventy years, he'd die and Dean would be alone. That was the best case scenario. Worst case, they might yet break up before the end of the summer, or Castiel might grow to love another, or Castiel might die young, or Castiel's destiny might steer him down dark paths that Dean couldn't protect him from, or any of a thousand tragedies that could befall a mortal. They barely knew each other – or, rather, Castiel barely knew Dean. All Castiel had was a fantasy of a savior, an illusion of a winged man who was always there for him, who would never leave him. That was not a healthy foundation for a relationship. Dean knew Castiel better, but his angelic devotion wasn't much any more appropriate as a form of affection. They were still exploring how they got along together, had scarcely had a real conversation. It was naive to think they were really in love, absurd to consider that there was any hope for them going forward.

No amount of telling himself that could change Dean's conviction that he adored Castiel, didn't cause Dean to feel any less certain that he wanted to spend the rest of his existence in Castiel's arms.

Something clattered in the bedroom and Dean looked up sharply, staring at the door.

"Dean?" There was an edge of panic to Castiel's voice, loud even through the closed bedroom door, followed by the heavy noise of feet hitting the ground. "Dean!" Dean cringed. If that was the effect that waking up alone had on Castiel, how would he feel if Dean really left? If Dean gave him no explanation? Guilt swamped Dean. He'd been so close to abandoning Castiel forever. Castiel would never even have learned where Dean had gone, and Dean's replacement would only have shown themselves if needed. The door from the bedroom jerked open with a clatter and Castiel stumbled, naked, into the living room. Frantic eyes scanned the room, alit on Dean, and Castiel heaved a huge, deflating sigh, crossed to the couch, skirted Dean's wings, jumped up behind and Dean and curled himself around Dean's back, holding him close and shaking. "I woke up and you were gone. I thought...it doesn't matter. You're here." Castiel kissed the back of Dean's neck. "Thank God you're here."

"Castiel, I—" Dean choked back the words on the verge of confessing everything, of telling Castiel he had to leave and wouldn't be coming back. Maybe Sam would find something that helped. Maybe Sam wouldn't. Either way, Dean should leave. Either way, Dean knew his heart he wouldn't be able to make himself leave again. "I'm glad I'm here, too."

Folding his legs into Dean's lap, Castiel collapsed against Dean's back, breathing ragged, a hand cupping one of Dean's small breasts, the other pressing the slight soft bulge of Dean's stomach. Castiel buried his face in one of Dean's wings, humid bursts of air brushing through Dean's feathers. "You said this was wrong," Castiel whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to Dean's spine. "You said it was forbidden. Are you in trouble? Will you get recalled to heaven?"

"I don't know," Dean admitted, shifting his shoulders as Castiel kissed up to his neck. "I thought I'd get in trouble, but now…" Sam implied that other angels have been with those they guarded, implied they'd done so without negative repercussions. But even if I were to get in trouble, does that matter to me anymore? Does anything matter, in comparison to how much Castiel matters? Would I defy heaven's will for Castiel? The thought frightened him. Twenty years knowing Castiel and Dean was considering throwing over a lifetime of devotion for the uncertainty of young love.

Castiel slipped one hand up Dean's breast, caught a nipple between his fingers and teased it taut. His other hand slid down Dean's abdomen, fingers slipped beneath the waist band of Dean's pants, spread to skirt the base of Dean's small cock, curled to toy with Dean's balls. Arousal competed with the worries plaguing Dean and he moaned pitifully, body instantly desperate for more. On a purely physical level, how he reacted to Castiel was incredible, how Castiel reacted to Dean equally so. Dean was glad he'd never done anything like this before with anyone else. He wanted this to be special, unique; he didn't want to ever compare his experiences with Castiel to intimacy with anyone else. He wanted to give this part of himself to Castiel completely, without reservation.

There won't be anyone else, ever, for me. However this ends...

Licks and kisses shivered down Dean's spine, Castiel sucking Dean's skin into his mouth, nipping at it, causing slight spikes of pain which Castiel quickly soothed with laps of his tongue. Dean trembled, his cock growing hard, Castiel's matching erection firm against his back.

"So this is okay? Is us being together okay?" asked Castiel, voice deep with desire.

"I don't know what will happen," Dean breathed, pushing back against Castiel's cock. "But I'll be here."

Hot, wet lips mouthed over Dean's oil gland, jolting Dean unexpectedly. Dean's groan broke as Castiel licked Dean into his mouth and sucked hard, forcing oil out. A deep, guttural noise more like a growl than a groan rattled through Castiel's chest and lungs, reverberated through Dean's body. "My angel," snarled Castiel, nipping at the gland hard enough to make Dean whimper in pain then drawing it soothingly into his mouth again. "Mine." Castiel used his body weight to lean Dean forward, shifted his legs so that he knelt straddling Dean on the couch, used the hand at Dean's crotch to pivot Dean's hips back. Castiel's other hand moved like lightning to catch the back of Dean's neck and slam Dean forward against the coffee table. Dean barely got his arms beneath his head to protect himself. Drinking Dean's oil always brought out an aggressive, possessive streak in Castiel. Dean thought it should scare him,but instead it turned him on as nothing else did, left Dean weak with need and desperate for Castiel to use Dean's body until they both lost their mind with rapture. Intentionally avoiding touch to Dean's cock, Castiel jerked Dean's pants out of the way, revealing Dean's leaking slit.

"You get so wet for me," moaned Castiel in awe, rutting his cock against Dean's crack. His erection caught at Dean's vagina but didn't go in, slid back and forth easily through the wetness at Dean's crotch without penetrating. "Never thought I'd like this but...fuck, Dean..." Dean wasn't sure if the dirty language or Castiel's cock pressing into him prompted his breathy moan. The more they'd done together, the more confident and comfortable Castiel had grown, but swearing was new and shockingly arousing. Dean's body spread easily for Castiel, slick and hot as hardness slid into him smoothly. "Your...your va...your pussy feels so damn good..." Castiel bottomed out, Dean shaking with pleasure around him, and Castiel immediately drew back slowly, withdrawing nearly all the way. Pressing Dean more insistently against the table, Castiel held Dean's hips in place with a firm forearm wedged between Dean's legs. "Hot and wet and tight..." Castiel thrust in teasingly slow; Dean tried to rut back for more contact but Castiel held him still. "So good, so damn good, Dean...I love it..." Another slow, steady withdrawal left Dean whimpering with desperation. Lips came to rest on the gland Castiel had yet to kiss, licked up Dean's leaking oil, sucked out more. As the flavor inundated Castiel's mouth, Castiel groaned and slammed into Dean hard, balls slapping against Dean's as their bodies met. "Can't resist you." Hitching Dean's hips up further, Castiel jerked out and thrust in to Dean again. "Don't want to resist you. You're mine." Another thrust filled Dean so hard it rocked his whole body, caused the table to skitter an inch across the floor. "Not heaven's, not God's, mine." Castiel's finger found Dean's clit and Dean sobbed into his arm, already close to his climax. Immobilized as he was, Dean still managed to rock his hips slightly, meeting every hard thrust as Castiel filled him, as always lost to reason near instantly, absorbed in the wondrous feeling of being joined.

"Castiel!" Come spattered the floor beneath Dean, streaking white over the pale carpet. Castiel didn't slow, using a fresh burst of wetness within Dean to slick the way as he pounded harder, faster. Castiel's murmuring grew increasingly dirty, increasingly incoherent, as he drove Dean towards a second climax shockingly quickly. Castiel's words were incomprehensible, too broken, Dean too gone to focus on them, but the possessiveness, desire, affection, and need were unmistakable. Castiel's thumb circled Dean's clit continuously, his palm rubbed at Dean's balls, their bodies met with a wet squelch each time Castiel bottomed out, skin slapping skin. Every part of Dean was alive with heat and incandescent light, his cock staying hard throughout as his panting breaths synced with Castiel's rough grunts of effort, synced with Castiel's thrusts.

"Oh."

The flat, mortified voice broke through Dean's fog of arousal and he struggled to lift his head, blinking through tears to see Sam, reappeared on the same chair as he'd vanished from. Castiel's mouth left Dean's oil gland and Castiel froze, buried deep in Dean's body. The arm holding Dean's against the table slipped to Dean's chest, dragged Dean upright until he and Castiel were pressed together, and a possessive growl rattled through Dean, caused his teeth to buzz.

"Dean belongs to me."

"Yeah...yeah, not going to argue with you there...I'm just going to leave...uh, now..." Sam vanished. His voice whispered through the room as he added, "I'll come back in ten minutes. Wait, let's call it an hour."

Teeth sank into Dean's neck hard, painfully, and Dean cried out as Castiel started pounding him again. Part of Dean was in awe that Sam's intrusion hadn't killed the mood, but if anything it had the opposite effect. Castiel thrust into Dean so energetically that sweat dripped from Castiel's face and chest onto Dean's back; the litany leaking from Castiel took on an even more possessive air with a hint of pleading, Dean caught his name and mine and fragments he thought related to the danger of Dean leaving. In moments, Dean's distraction was gone, his embarrassment was gone; there was only Castiel, Castiel's cock and hands and mouth and the unbelievable pleasure of being together.

Castiel didn't stop when he came, his cock didn't soften, he groaned and dug his nails into Dean's chest and stuttered through his climax, paused for an instant to take a deep breath and then kept going. Dean lost count of how many times he came, cock growing soft and seizing up dry even as his vagina continued to clench impossibly hot around Castiel. By the time Castiel came for a third time, his thrusts had grown weak, his voice dry and ragged as he whispered Dean's name over and over again. Castiel's cock finally went limp, slipping free from Dean's body with a slick drag of Dean's wetness mixed with come, smearing over Dean's thighs. Dean's legs gave way and he collapsed against the coffee table, body thrumming with heat and over-stimulation. Castiel fell atop him a moment later, clinging in a way that betrayed the vulnerability obscured by his dominating lovemaking. Neither spoke for long minutes, high on lust and love and companionship and wing oil. When Dean finally felt he could move, he tried to shrug free of Castiel's weight, and though Dean failed to move Castiel, Castiel took the hint and rolled back on the couch. Dean twisted to look at Castiel, arms crossed on the edge of the couch, chin resting on his hands, looking into Castiel's unfocused eyes. Dean smiled affectionately and got a bemused, happy grin in return, strangely proud of the wet spot he knew was forming on the carpet where he sat.

"Was that too much?" Castiel whispered, his words ill-formed, half his mouth mashed against the couch cushions. Cooling sweat made streaks over Castiel's face, hair made black by wetness matted to his forehead and the nape of his neck. Dean's answer was to cup Castiel's cheek with one hand and brush a kiss over Castiel's lips. "I can't even describe what tasting you does to me, it makes me so...makes me need you so much, makes me want to use you. Is that wrong? Is what we have really wrong?"

"It's only wrong if I don't want you, too," said Dean with more conviction than he felt. "And I do want you, more than ever, more every time we're together. I'll take care of you, Castiel." His charge stiffened and Dean rubbed a reassuring thumb over Castiel's cheek bone. "I'll let you take care of me as well." The smile that earned Dean was, in all the thousands of years of Dean's existence, the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"Is it safe to come back?" asked Sam's disembodied voice.

"Gimme a minute," Dean answered gruffly. Rising, body aching, Dean gave Castiel one last pat on the cheek, went to the closet and got a couple towels. He threw one to Castiel and used the other to wipe his body down. Grace easily removed the stains from his pants, and Dean pulled them back on, tying the draw string as he walked to the bedroom. Returning with a blanket, Dean spread it over Castiel and left once more to get a large cup of water for his exhausted love. With a relieved sigh, Castiel propped himself up on an elbow, drained the glass and slumped back onto the couch. Dean sank to the floor by where Castiel lay, leaned back against the cushions as best he could with his wings in the way. A warm glow, very different from that of arousal, left Dean calm and happy as Castiel shimmied up to his back, draped an arm over Dean's shoulder and cradled his head in the crook of Dean's neck.

"We're decent, Sammy," announced Dean. His brother appeared an instant later, wary expression relaxing as he saw that they were no longer mid-coitus. Castiel's hand tensed and relaxed against the bare skin of Dean's chest.

"You two seem, uh, pretty enthusiastic about each other," Sam said with a plastered-on smile.

"Next time, try knocking," Dean suggested unsympathetically. Castiel made an inarticulate sound against Dean's skin, and Dean continued, "Sam, this is my charge, Castiel; Castiel, this is my brother Samuel."

"Angels have brothers?" asked Castiel, fatigue and curiosity sharing equal parts in his voice.

"All angels of the same heavenly rank are siblings," Sam explained. "We are both guardians, so we are brothers. In our case it is a little deeper than that – we share parents as well."

"So angels are born – they grow up – just like people?"

"That's a more interesting question than you'd think," said Sam with enthusiasm. "You see—"

"I'd love you two to get to know each other and talk all about how angelhood works, but this isn't the moment," Dean interrupted. Anxiety knotted in his chest; he couldn't wait to hear the result of Sam's investigation while Castiel and Sam spent hours discussing the hierarchy of heaven. "Were you able to find anything out?"

"Don't worry," said Castiel soothingly. "It's going to be fine."

"Your orders were standard, Dean," Sam said. "Go to earth, guard Castiel Novak for the duration of his life or until further orders are received. Only one thing stood out to me as unusual."

"Which was...?"

"Where it was filed," Sam explained. "It was cross-referenced with Nephilim." Dean frowned pensively, shook his head to show he didn't understand. "I've been thinking – why can Castiel see you sometimes? I think there might be angelic blood in his family tree."

"One of my relatives was an angel?" asked Castiel, perking up, intrigued.

"Only distantly. If all you can do is see angels cloaked in grace, it's probably twenty or thirty generations ago," Sam said. "If a Nephilim managed to dodge heaven's authority, or if an angel had an unauthorized child with a human, some angelic blood would mingle with the human strain. Most humans with a bloodline as weak as yours would never find out, but a few would manifest magical powers. And since Dean was with you, you were exposed to his grace, which might have brought out some latent abilities that you might not otherwise have noticed. Is there any history of magic in your family?"

"Not that I know of," Castiel said, shaking his head. "But I could ask my parents." Dean wrapped Castiel's hand in his, rested their paired grip over Dean's heart. Castiel gave Dean's hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Couldn't hurt," said Sam, shrugging. "Well, that's about that."

"Huh?" Dean spluttered, anxiety bursting to unhappy life. I violated orders, I'm going to get in trouble, I'm going to be recalled, I'm going to have to leave Castiel… "I thought you were going to find something in the records to help!" Castiel made indistinct calming noises in Dean's ear that did nothing to relieve his concern.

"I did," Sam said, exasperated. "There's nothing in your orders that say you can't be in a relationship with Castiel. Honestly, I'm amazed that even you are so devoted to our Father's orders that you've never once engaged in relations with a mortal."

"Had you ever done so, before you met Gabriel?" countered Dean. Sam's dignified look was all the confirmation Dean needed. Sam had been as dutiful as Dean, before he'd met the more rebellious arch-angel.

"You're scot free," Sam said, refusing to answer Dean. "Have fun!" He vanished.

"Sam?" Dean demanded. He had so many more questions, so many more worries. "Sam!"

"What's going on, Dean?" asked Castiel. There was doubt in his voice, and concern, but there was also affection and faith and trust. If anyone else had asked Dean to confess his crimes, he wasn't sure he could do it. But when Castiel asked…Dean never wanted to keep any secrets from Castiel.

Taking an unnecessary deep breath, Dean told Castiel everything, what his duties as a guardian angel entailed, about his worries regarding being with Castiel, about his fears that they didn't know each other well enough for a relationship to be successful, about how despite all of that Dean wanted to be together. Wings alight with the strength of his convictions, Dean admitted that he was prepared to defy even heaven's will to stay by Castiel's side. By the time Dean was finished, it had grown dark out and Dean was on the couch with Castiel nestled in his arms, the golden glow emanating from Dean's wings the only light in the world. The smile Dean cherished graced Castiel's lips.

"I love you," Dean concluded. Castiel stretched his arms around Dean's neck and drew them together in a long, chaste kiss.

"We're going to be fine, Dean," Castiel whispered, cuddling closer to Dean, curling up against Dean's warm body. "I understand why you are worried, but you needn't be. I'm not leaving. It hasn't been nearly so short a time as you think; I've spent a lifetime paying attention to everything you've done, every time I saw you, every action you took. I know you, even though we've only recently begun to talk. I'll never love anyone as much as I love you. I know it. It's you, Dean. You're it for me. Not even God can separate us. I know it. This is meant to be."

"That's ridiculous," Dean protested lamely. He wanted so badly to believe that was true.

"You'll see."

Sam materialized in heaven, rolling his eyes at his brother's naiveté. Dean was so focused on being dutiful that he'd never taken anything for himself. It had always worried Sam that Dean was self-effacing to the point of self-erasure, and he was inordinately pleased to know that finally, Dean was pursuing something for no reason other than that he wanted it. Whatever Sam had to do to protect Dean's affection, he'd do. Crumpling up the paper in his pocket, he threw the wadded ball into the trash.

The flutter of wings betrayed that Sam wasn't alone in his dormitory, the crinkle of paper demonstrated the curiosity of his visitor. "Order #4536543332: Guardian angel Dean, ID number 3420133, is to mate with the human Castiel Novak to produce Nephilim offspring," read Gabriel's wry voice aloud. "Sammy, did you just destroy an official order of the Lord? I really have corrupted you…"

"It's better this way," said Sam stoutly. In truth, it did make him uncomfortable to destroy the missive instead of pass it on to Dean as he'd been instructed to do, but centuries with Gabriel had taught Sam a lot about the wide distance between the stated rules of heaven and those rules that would actually be enforced. There would be no consequences for destroying an order that Dean was already happily following, whereas if Sam gave his brother the order… "If I give that to Dean, Castiel will find out. After that, they'll both wonder if Dean is staying because he wants to or because he feels he has to. I won't do that to them. They seem happy together."

Gabriel quirked an eyebrow at him. "You've seen them together for, what, five entire minutes, and you're already prepared to send them to a happily ever after?"

"You seemed in favor of it," countered Sam pointedly. "Speaking of which, you are surprisingly well-informed about the Novak family." Sending an innocent look skyward, Gabriel shrugged. "I think Castiel has angelic blood. In fact, I think it's why Dean was paired with him. Any children they have will be just over half-angel."

"Yes, their offspring will make excellent Nephilim," Gabriel agreed as if none of it meant anything to him. "God will be so proud. Oh, wait, no He won't. I doubt he'll even notice. He—"

"You're the Novak ancestor, aren't you," Sam interrupted.

"Sam!" Gabriel's air of effrontery was comically overblown. "I would never—"

"Gabe," Sam said warningly.

The sparkle in Gabe's eyes betrayed him, the way his lips quirked into the semblance of a smile, the way he glanced sidelong in each direction rather than meet Sam's steady gaze.

"What? I think my great-great-great-great-great-great…well, you get the idea…I think my grandson turned out pretty well," grinned Gabe. "But your brother is a pervy cradle robber."

"Takes one to know one."

"Aw, come over here and kiss me, moose."

"Not until you promise to never call me that again."

"You know you love it."

"Yeah, I do."

Castiel's breath rattled in his throat. Dean waited, sick with apprehension, for Castiel to take another. Each inhalation had been growing weaker and further apart, sometimes as long as 30 seconds passing before Dean's elderly love drew breath again. It had been three days since Castiel had seen or recognized Dean, two days since Dean had gotten so much as a hand squeeze in reply to a question he'd asked, and though he told himself not to grieve yet, he was already heavy with sorrow. It wouldn't be long now. The fears for the future Dean had once harbored were long since dissipated, Castiel's love as true as his own, their children grown and enrolled in heaven's ranks serving peacetime duty in the army. New fears crowded in, though. Castiel was dying and Dean dreaded the end. For 60 years it had been easy to pretend this moment would never come, even as it loomed closer and closer, but there was no pretending any longer. Once Castiel was gone, Dean faced the rest of eternity alone. A tear rolled down his face as he prayed for all he was worth, prayed for Castiel to breathe again, prayed for Castiel's life, prayed for even on more day together. Even as he begged his Father in heaven for reprieve, he felt guilty. Castiel was so old, so frail, so tired. Asking him to suffer longer was cruelty, but Dean was too selfish to do otherwise. He couldn't contemplate being alone again.

Seconds stretched into a minute, two minutes, and Dean knew the end had come. Hot tears flooded his eyes, splashed down his cheeks; his head fell, his wings slumped, and Dean wept uncontrollably.

The pull to return to heaven began before the hand Dean clutched grew cold. His charge was gone. Dean's duty now was to return home and await new orders. In short days, weeks at the most, he'd be assigned to a new mortal, sent to earth to repeat the cycle anew.

For the first time, Dean couldn't bear the thought. The loss of his charge had always been sad, but it had always brought with it before the excitement and promise of watching some new infant grow through childhood, adulthood, old age. Losing Castiel was nothing like the death of any prior mortal had been, though. The mere idea that Dean might start over with someone new was nauseating, reminded Dean of the endless years stretching before him. A sob choked in his throat and he leant forward against the bed, Castiel's wrinkled, calloused hand pressed to Dean's lips, cradling his head in his arms and crying his broken heart to aching shreds.

The longer Dean delayed, the greater the compulsion to return grew; when he could resist it no longer he took flight, left the shell that had been his love alone and materialized in his room. Collapsing onto his chair, he tried to push his memories away but he couldn't. A lifetime of companionship, care, and support swamped him, broke him, left him raw and exposed and agonizingly aware of all the wonderful feelings he would never experience again.

He wasn't sure how long had passed when there was a knock on his door. Dean couldn't fathom who would knock rather than simply appear and he didn't care.

"Go 'way," he said, his voice scratchy and raw.

"Dean, it's me," Sam's concern was evident through the thin wood.

"Leave me alone!"

"Is that what you want?" demanded Sam. "To be alone?"

Not even a little.

The thought of decades and centuries and millennia to come, alone, was unbearable. Dean couldn't bring himself to answer.

"May I come in?"

"Yeah," Dean managed weakly, wiping his damp cheeks. The door opened and his brother entered, expression intensely sympathetic. With two broad strides he crossed to Dean's side and put an arm around his shoulder. Not alone, I'm not completely alone, it's something, I'm so lucky to have Sam… Dean wailed and threw himself against his brother, wet cheeks streaking salty water over Sam's smooth chest. They huddled together for a long time, Sam making quiet comforting noises and running his hand down Dean's spine. Inconsolable, Dean cried for a long time before he ran out of tears, unable to physically express the hollowness and agony that remained within him. Sam helped him sit up and gave him an incongruous smile.

"Feeling any better?" Sam asked.

"No," answered Dean honestly, miserably. Sam laughed and Dean cracked a smile despite himself.

"I was thinking you should stay with Gabriel and I tonight," said Sam.

"Maybe that would be for the best," Dean mumbled without conviction. Sam and Gabriel's heaven-sanctioned couple-dom meant that they'd had the free time to be part of Dean and Castiel's life, part of their children's lives, able to help the young Nephilim make the transition from living on earth to living in heaven. Dean sniffed back more tears as he thought of Castiel and Sam's friendship, how happy it had made Dean to watch his brother and his love grow close. Forcing himself to his feet, he followed in Sam's wake. Sam kept up a stream of cheerful chatter and Dean felt like a ghost haunting his brother's wake.

Much to Dean's surprise, Sam knocked on his own door when he arrived. "Gabe, everything set?" he called loudly through the white painted wall.

"As ready as we'll ever be, Samsquatch. Dean-o, you out there?"

There was the quiet sound of someone else talking and Dean's stomach dropped. "No, Sam – I can't deal with – I mean, you and Gabriel are one thing, but no one else, please—"

Sam turned quickly, put a hand on each of Dean's shoulders, made a soothing shushing noise. "Hey – hey, I need you to trust me, okay? Look at me – Dean?" Dean forced himself to meet Sam's steady, confident gaze and he nodded reluctant agreement.

The door opened, Sam stepped within, Dean heaved an expressive sigh, his red-eyed gaze fixed on the floor. "Hey, Ga—"

Weight barreled into him and cut him off. Stunned, Dean froze as hands fell on his cheeks and lips met his. "Dean!" cried a much-beloved voice. Dean went numb with shock, awe, wonder, and unspeakable gratefulness and joy. "Dean, Dean, my Dean!" Every word was punctuated with a kiss as Dean stood dumbly and stared at the impossible apparition before him. It was Castiel, young as he'd not been in a lifetime, eyes bright and full of life and swimming with tears, wide grin only fading in the face of Dean's speechless, unresponsive amazement. "Dean?"

"Cas…?" Dean whispered, raising a shaking hand to Castiel's face. Dean froze short of actually touching, terrified that the beautiful vision would vanish if Dean attempted to interact with him. Castiel leaned into the contact, rubbed a stubbled cheek roughly against Dean's palm and Dean shuddered, more tears leaking from his gritty, pained eyes. "You…I don't…" He looked around, lost, to see Sam beaming at him and Gabriel giving him an indulgent smile. "Are you…?" His eyes returned to Castiel's. He thought he might drown in blue; he'd never wanted anything more.

"I woke up in heaven, Dean, and Gabriel found me and brought me here. I'm in heaven," Castiel said, ineffectually wiping away the streaks of liquid spilling from Dean's eyes. "We're in heaven. Together."

Tears coursed down his cheeks, as uncontrollable in Dean's happiness as in they had been in his grief. Throwing his arms around Castiel, Dean held him close, frantic in his need for contact, whispering Castiel over and over again. Castiel laughed in delight and kissed every bit of Dean's skin he could get his lips on. The room was suddenly empty, Sam and Gabriel absconding and leaving them alone. Delight and a wonderful, light happiness that Dean hadn't felt in years swelled through him and he met Castiel's lips joyfully, reveled in the passion and love evident in every brush of lip against lip.

As Castiel had predicted so many years before, everything was going to be fine. They had eternity together.

Thank God.

End note:

...sorry about the random PoV switch...but it was the only way to get that info in, and so I decided "screw it" and went for it...and sorry for the feels at the end...figured folks would be happier knowing how everything worked out long term than being left to wonder...but doing that required feels...

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