Apologies, guys. This is a reverse bang effort and therefore comes with some pretty cool artwork, but this site is totally hating me trying to upload it as an avatar right now and I can't insert it into the text. So, bear with me, if you want to see the inspiration, please copy and paste the url and remove spaces etc (I'll put it below this and above the story). I was brought in as a pinch hitter so this could maybe have been longer, but I hope you enjoy both the story and the original artwork regardless.

wondering - why - i . live journal (dot com slash) 69822 . html

Castiel slipped into the kitchen of the bunker tentatively, watching Dean stomp around. He grabbed a dish towel and threw handfuls of ice from the freezer into it, before thrusting it into Castiel's hands. He lifted it cautiously and stuck it against his swollen lip, wincing as the chill of the ice seeped through the cotton of the dish towel and onto his open wound. If his powers hadn't failed him once again, Castiel would have patched himself up, and helped Dean at the same time. But Castiel was once again barely more human than the vessel he had taken and all he could do was take this small olive branch that Dean was offering. Dean, who was once again struggling against the Mark of Cain that he so foolishly took on.

Dean took the chair opposite him at the kitchen table and glared at the table top, and Castiel took the opportunity to drink in Dean's demeanor, his aura, everything about him. Dean looked up, and their gazes met.

"What?" He spat.

"Nothing." Castiel said quietly.

"Obviously there's something you wanna say." Dean snarled. Castiel looked away, at the table top, and Dean scoffed before standing up, and helping himself to one of his beers. He slid a bottle roughly across the surface of the table, and Castiel accepted it meekly. "How's your face?"

Castiel took the makeshift ice pack away from his lip for Dean to inspect, though he kept his distance. After all, Dean had been the cause of these injuries. Castiel had thought that Dean was about to kill him with an angel blade, and had barely escaped that injury. He had lain in the main room of the bunker for a good hour, replaying the scene before Dean had shown a glimpse of remorse and offered to help nurse the injuries that he had created. That Cain's Mark had made. Castiel had to believe that it wasn't Dean who would hurt him so badly, who would even consider ending Castiel's existence. He had to believe it was Dean who aimed the blade at the book in the end. If he didn't believe that, his heart would break.

Dean finished his inspection without a word, chugging from a beer bottle of his own, and Castiel slowly put the ice pack back on his face, sucking in an audible breath at the sharp shot of pain that came from cold meeting exposed flesh. He carried on watching Dean, processing what had happened between them. Would Dean really have done it? Would he have ended Castiel's existence? It was a hard concept to grasp because, well, Dean was his existence. And he had already begun to destroy himself with that stupid mark.

Dean looked up and caught his eye again.

"What?"

This was ridiculous, Dean's mood, the constant demand to know what Castiel was thinking, the fact he could no longer just read it from Castiel's expression like they had been able to do since they met … Castiel sucked in another breath, and tried to tiptoe through the minefield that was their new relationship. Or what passed for it, these days.

"I'm trying to understand, why you would do this," Castiel gestured to his face. "Even with the mark, even after Charlie, even after saying you don't want my help or Sam's help."

"I didn't stab you, did I?" Dean was surly.

"And that's all you have to say?" Castiel stood his ground. "Dean, after everything we've been through-"

"And you've beaten the shit out of me before, nearly smited me. Smote me. Whatever. The demon tablet?"

"It's not an eye for an eye." Castiel muttered. "And it's different, that wasn't me. You're still there, even with Cain's mark."

"You're right, it's different. I hadn't gotten someone you consider family killed just before that."

"I was trying to protect her, Dean. I liked her."

Dean stood up abruptly, but merely went to get more beer before returning to the table.

"And I told you - and Sam - the best way to protect her. Didn't I?"

"I need to protect you too, Dean."

"I'm a big boy, I can look after myself."

Castiel looked down at his own still-full bottle. Dean didn't have any idea what the mark could do to him - what it was doing to him - and he was meddling with powers that even Castiel couldn't compare to. How was a mere human going to protect themselves from something even an angel couldn't fight against? Even if that was human was Dean Winchester.

"It's not about your capabilities," Castiel spoke to the beer bottle. "I know what you can endure, Dean. I've been there for you and your brother enough times to see that, and to see those times you were going to break as well."

"So what's your point?" Dean was relentless, and this time Castiel had no idea if it was the influence of the mark or not. He had always had a certain tenacity which had lent itself to him being one of the best Hunters, but then again, the mark's influence …

"My point is, when we first met, I was an angel who took whatever command I was given. And you changed that, you made me think, you showed me the value in doing the right thing. That the right thing wasn't turning a blind eye and hoping it would all go away, that you had to fight and get your hands dirty if you wanted to help more people. You're my moral compass, Dean."

"So this is a selfish thing?" Dean grouched.

"I suppose it is. It's for my benefit that I care about you, and want to help you, and protect you. I gave everything up for you, Dean. I would carry on giving everything up for you. If it had meant you were free from Cain's mark, I would have even made peace with you killing me."

He could feel Dean's gaze burning into him, trying to read his body language, and he looked at the beer bottle more resolutely than before. This was, perhaps, the closest he had come to admitting his feelings to Dean. Feelings that had never stopped being scary, and intense, and hard to place when he first acknowledged them. As an angel, he wasn't meant to covet humans. And yet, as an angel, he wasn't meant to ignore direct commands or rebel against his superiors, he wasn't meant to side with man over his brothers. Maybe coveting Dean was par for the course.

"You don't mean that," Dean scoffed. Castiel finally looked up and met his gaze. It sounded so much more like the old Dean, the Dean he had followed for the last six years. The Dean he resisted touching, who knew him from a mere look. The Dean he thought of as his Dean.

"Why shouldn't I? I have given everything for you. And for Sam."

They stared at each other for a long moment, the way they used to do, and Dean slowly leaned back in his chair.

"What are you saying, Cas?"

It sounded like his Dean again. Not the stranger who had hurt him. And now Castiel had the choice, to deflect the way he had always done, or to finally admit the truth. He hoped that maybe if he admitted his true feelings, maybe Dean would show some remorse, would channel his grief at losing Charlie properly, would take Castiel's advice on getting rid of the mark more seriously. Maybe, if Dean knew what was at stake, he would understand Castiel's reaction better.

"I'm saying that I've always considered it an honor to even know you, Dean. To get to call you my … my friend. You are worth every sacrifice I've made. I just wish that the feeling was mutual."

"You think I don't respect you?" Dean snorted. Castiel merely gestured to his face, and Dean leaned forward, across the table. "You're my best friend, Cas. Doesn't mean I'm about to take your shit, but normally, you're on my side."

"I am right now. I'm no sycophant, Dean. If I were, it would be orders from the garrison that I listen to, and not you. You taught me to stand for what I think is right."

"And the book of the damned, a book that can't be destroyed, a book my brother would lie to me about and get our friend - our sister - killed over, that's what you think is right?"

"I think saving you is right."

Dean swigged his beer, and Castiel adjusted his ice pack.

"Couldn't have done that for Charlie though, huh?"

"She left behind my back Dean, when I was trying to stop Rowena distracting her. So yes, I was trying to help keep her safe too. I was trying to make you happy. Not the mark, you."

Dean merely rolled his eyes.

"You need to stop making excuses. You're as bad as Sam."

"That's unfair, Dean. You mean so much to all of us. You gave Charlie another family after she lost hers, you raised Sam just as much as your father did and perhaps more, and you are everything to me."

Dean sat back again, as the room filled with a different kind of tension, one that felt perhaps more dangerous than anything the mark would have created. Castiel knew that going forward might put Dean off completely, but then again, there was a chance that their opinions on each other was mutual, however minor that chance was.

"I know what you think of yourself, Dean. Even without the influence of Cain, I know how low your self esteem is. But I don't see the same person you see. I see the man who has literally been to hell and back and still cares about other people. I see the man who wants to put the world to right and will suffer to do it. The one who goes for the long game and makes every sacrifice he can to protect other people. I know how much damage it's doing to you, knowing you couldn't protect Charlie, and that just makes me love you more."

There was a ringing silence through the bunker, and Castiel concentrated once more on his bottle of beer.

"You know what I've noticed?" Castiel mused, still staring at the circle of green glass that made the neck of his bottle. "You don't protect me in the same way. You protect everyone else, and until just now I was more your equal. You've never had any problem sending me out to help you and Sam, you trust me to do what you need. And I know you don't feel the same way about me that I feel about you, but it reassures me that I at least mean something to you. Something important."

Dean scoffed, and Castiel risked a look up at him.

"Perhaps it's not true, but it's something I would like to believe anyway, Dean. Please don't disillusion me, you owe me that much." He gestured to the compress on his face to strengthen his point. Dean's frown tightened.

"I wasn't going to."

"Thank you."

They lapsed into silence, both sipping from their bottles slowly, Castiel finding it difficult to drink his around the dish towel.

"I didn't say it wasn't true." Dean said eventually, sounding much more like his old self, if a little wary of where this conversation was going. "You are different. Important. You know that."

"It's nice to have it acknowledged sometimes, Dean."

"I'm the wrong person for that." He put his beer bottle down. "Besides Cas, I mean … you're an angel, right?"

Castiel gestured to signify that although he was meant to be one, it was arguable sometimes.

"I mean, you're not meant to … I mean … I thought you were," Dean seemed flustered, and he opened yet another beer, then the words came out, all run together. "Ithoughtyouwereasexualorsomething."

Castiel turned the compress over, putting the cooler side against his skin, and considered where this conversation was going. Dean hadn't reacted horribly to the news, which would have been a bonus even without the mark's influence.

"What relevance would that have?"

Dean shrugged.

"I guess not much. I mean, I don't really want to bone another guy."

Castiel took a moment to consider Dean's words. Beyond the surface of Dean discussing his physical limits, there was a possibility that he was potentially considering the idea of the two of them together. He was at least entertaining the idea of solidifying their bond.

"That's something we have in common," Castiel nodded.

"So, what do you want?"

Castiel let the compress fall onto the table, just looking at Dean. He couldn't tell if Dean was trying to be argumentative or whether there was a potential for them to try a relationship. He didn't want to upset Dean when he was already so volatile, but he also didn't want to let the opportunity go. After a few moments of staring between them, Dean reached across and lifted the compress. Castiel flinched before the cold was back on his face, and then he relaxed slightly.

"I'm not going to hurt you again," Dean promised.

"You won't. But the mark?"

Dean's brow furrowed, but he didn't pursue the conversation.

"Cas, what do you want from me?"

"That's a complex request."

"It's really not." Dean moved their bottles aside and climbed onto the table, keeping the ice pack on Castiel's face. "So, okay, you don't want to hook up with me. So what do you want? Making out?"

"Perhaps we should consider more what you would like? Since my feelings are the ones that are more obvious here."

Dean shrugged.

"I guess if I know what you expect, I can tell you whether it's possible."

He sounded so much like himself, like a man who wasn't marred with a violent curse, and Castiel felt his heart ache. It would be so much easier to discuss this with Dean without that stupid curse etched into his arm.

"I suppose what I would want most is the chance to have the connection we used to have. To feel like you valued me despite all your conflicting thoughts and beliefs."

"We still have that, Cas."

"No. We don't." Castiel raised his chin. "Too much has happened anyway, to return to that friendship. Human nature dictates that any type of relationship will evolve over time."

"Cas, stop being a dick and just tell me what you're expecting from me."

Castiel flinched at the anger in Dean's voice. He didn't want to feel afraid of Dean, not when he had seen him at his most vulnerable. Not when he had healed the man, saved him from Hell and from himself, given himself completely to fitting into Dean's ideals.

"I told you, I want that connection back. This doesn't have to be physical, Dean. It can be about respect and communication and understanding."

"You're talking in riddles."

"I assure you that I'm not. Do you remember when the apocalypse seemed to be impending and you took me to a strip club?"

"You hated that."

"I did, but I liked seeing you laugh as we left. Or what about when you were worried about Sam being taken over by Lilith, when it seemed like a certainty because of Chuck's writing? I was told I couldn't directly intervene and you still understood me enough to do what was needed to save your brother."

"What's your point, Cas?"

"My point is that you and I, it feels like we're defined by those moments. But we haven't had them for a while. You never asked my advice before taking on Cain's burden, you think you can handle it on your own. You're not grateful for the lengths that those of us who care about you will go to in order to help you. I miss the man who understood me."

Dean looked away, his hand dropping from the compress. Castiel picked it up as it dropped on his lap and took it to the sink to empty it. He stood and stared at the cubes as they slowly melted into the drain, rather than face Dean.

"So, nothing physical?" Dean checked. Castiel didn't move.

"Not unless you wanted it."

"I am grateful, you know. For most things. But losing Charlie … it's nearly as bad as losing you. You know, she's like family. And you were the one who showed me that I could have more family than just Sam and Bobby. I just had to pick that family carefully. You were a great choice."

Castiel closed his eyes, swallowing down the heavy weight he could feel gathering in his chest. He heard movement behind him, and then Dean's arms were around him, one across his collarbone, the other across his chest. Dean held him tightly, tucking his chin against Castiel's neck. It was a wonderful, innocent embrace and Castiel wanted it to last forever.

"That's why I stopped the mark from ending you. I can't lose you, like I can't lose Sam, like I couldn't lose Charlie." Dean murmured. "I still have some control, Cas."

"I don't want to be family, Dean." Castiel whispered back. "I want this."

"This I can do." Dean promised. They stood together, pressed against the sink for a while, and Castiel relaxed into Dean's touch, raising his hands to tangle their fingers together. Dean laughed, his breath caressing Castiel's skin. He shivered, and turned his head slightly, making their foreheads touch.

"I'm sorry about Charlie, Dean. I didn't think she'd leave, I'd moved Rowena to give Charlie space."

"I guess Charlie just needed to do it in her own way. I'm going to miss her like crazy."

"She was a wonderful person. I'm glad I got to meet her, if only for a short while."

"Me too."

Dean started stroking the back of Castiel's hand, which felt wonderful with the right amount of pressure and pleasurable sensation.

"This is what you want, Cas? This level of physicality?"

"Yes. But I also want to look in your eyes and know what you're thinking and know that it's you, not some ancient curse influencing you, changing you. Like we always used to do. Which means getting rid of that thing."

Dean leaned back slightly, his expression serious.

"I'll get rid of it, Cas. But my way, not Sam's."

Castiel nodded.

"So long as we get you back."

Dean smiled, his eyes full of warmth, the mark almost a distant memory. Castiel could feel a hint of that old understanding, and he knew that Dean was being genuine. Dean would be his, if in a slightly unconventional way, but Castiel had to resume his old role too, and trust that Dean knew what he was doing. He knew that Dean could tell he was willing to step back, and trust in Dean's choices, and his chest buzzed with the nostalgia of moments like this. He rested his forehead against Dean's, and let his Hunter pull him tighter into the hug. This Dean would never hurt him.