This is my first fanfic, so please go easy! -But I'd love to know what you think.
I had some thoughts running around and Dishwalla's live version of "Angels or Devils" helped me gather them here. It is a great song if you don't know it!
The title was inspired in part by the Stephen King book of shorts, Full Dark, No Stars.
It's a little sad but I hope you like it!

He was cold and weary. It almost hurt to take a breath. And it was so very dark. There was no moon; there were no stars. He'd call it full dark, save the one small light in the distance, the one he was slowly staggering toward. He'd never been afraid of the dark, even as a kid, seeing the things he had. There was no question there are definitely things that go bump in the night. There very well could be a monster under your bed or a ghost in the closet. Something about this dark, on this night though, gave him the creeps. It was so full of blackness that it felt empty. There were no monsters, no ghosts, only nothingness. He was utterly and completely alone and it scared the hell out of him. The longer he traveled the more fearful he became. He was getting no closer to that light in the distance, it was only getting smaller, more dull. He knew it was his only chance, there he'd find warmth, it could save him and he knew he'd never reach it. Soon it began to flicker like a candle yielding to the wind and just as it vanished he yelled out "Cas!" and awoke in a chilly sweat.

He sat upright in the bed, looked around the hotel room, frustrated with its emptiness. Sam had been gone for about a month now and naturally Dean was still struggling with his absence. Since that day Sam jumped into the cage, Dean had been alone. He had told Bobby he needed some time to himself. And then of course, there was Castiel. He'd gone to play sheriff in heaven, but he left Dean with these dreams, these nightmares, this feeling of emptiness he couldn't explain. Half the time he didn't even like the guy, so why did he feel so abandoned, so alone without him? "Because of the other half you fool," he scoffed aloud to himself. It was that other half that kept him up at night wondering, possibly even waiting. He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

The clock read barely 11pm, it was going to be another long restless night; so he figured what the hell and got up to get a beer from the fridge. He twisted the cap as he turned around, and there sat Castiel, as if not time nor circumstance made his appearance anything out of the ordinary.

The usual "Hello Dean" greeting was way more comforting than he'd dare admit, but right away Dean felt something was off. The fact that he felt it so quickly was, in and of itself, alarming. Was he really that in tune with the angel?

"Just like old times, huh Cas? What the hell?"

"You called for me," Castiel stated matter-of-factly.

There definitely was a disturbance in the force. There it was, plain as day, not staring Dean in the face. Castiel had yet to even look at him. There he sat, on the bed with perfect posture, staring at the window. Dean looked from Castiel to the window with a furrowed brow. Normally he would have made some smart ass comment that usually we look out a window, not at it, since the curtains were drawn, but there was nothing normal about this and somehow he didn't feel much like joking.

"No. No I didn't," he denied.

Dean had promised himself that no matter how bad things got, he would not call Castiel. It was more a matter of pride than anything else. Deep down in places he didn't want to talk about, Castiel made him feel special. He had favored Dean over everything and everyone else, even his angel brothers and sisters. The trust, the faith, the attention, the fascination–all of it, often made Dean heady with arrogance, yet vulnerable in ways he didn't understand.

"Yes. Yes you did," Castiel insisted calmly, "I heard you call my name."

"What? That?" Dean shrugged in an attempt to laugh off the notion that he had intended any such call. "That was just a dream."

Castiel's posture relaxed slightly, something had roused his interest. Bending his thigh up to the bed, he turned to face Dean.

Finally.

Finally his eyes dialed in to join the hunter's.

There you are, Dean thought.

"You're dreaming about me Dean?" Castiel questioned with a tilt of his head and fixed eyes that were as intense as they were curious.

Dean was caught off guard and for whatever reason was feeling flustered by the angel. "No!" he denied, "It's not like that."

"Not like what?" Castiel pressed.

"Well not like as girly as you make it sound. But yeah I've been having these dreams. I've been through a lot you know." Dean's focus blurred as memories flooded his mind, "My time in the pit and all this crap with Sam and Lucifer," he paused and cleared his attention to Castiel, "and you. I haven't seen you since you disappeared from my car that night."

"I'm sorry. I've been…how would you put it…on a short leash. My superiors–"

"Because you intervened?" Dean cut him off, raising his voice. "Those assholes! You were helping us save the world Cas, don't they see that?"

"Of course they do. I am not being punished for that. It's actually partly why they allowed me to come tonight."

"Wait…What? Allowed you?"

"Dean. I have not been here because I've been assigned duties in heaven. There is much unrest and they need me focused. They fear my loyalty and conviction are wavering. I've gone against orders and they blame my feelings for you… They are not wrong, you are…a distraction. Normally they wouldn't, but I made a pretty strong case that they owed me, so when I heard you call for me, they agreed to my terms and allowed me to come. But only tonight…" Usually Castiel was larger than life, his presence demanding attention, but now all he looked was fragile, practically human. "I've been reassigned…permanently. You are no longer my charge Dean, I've come to say goodbye."

Dean's eyes widened as the angel's words lodged somewhere deep in his gut. "Goodbye? You heard me call, so you're saying goodbye? Well that's just rich," he replied with obvious sarcasm. "After all we've been through, that's it? Wham. Bam. Thank you ma'am." His anger began seeping through where the sarcasm couldn't camouflage; he chucked the cap to his beer off to the side and turned away as he took a quick swallow.

It wasn't the anger, Castiel had pretty much expected that, it was the flash of panic that ran through the hunter's eyes and visibly across his face, that caught the angel's attention. Clearly, Dean was rattled. To say Castiel was rattled upon receiving the order from his superiors, would be a huge understatement. Admittedly, his reaction had only proved their point. Dean was a weak spot in him that he could no longer deny. He had been ignoring and fighting the strong feelings that Dean often provoked, but now his superiors had forced his hand, drained his will.

"Dean I was angry too, but–"

"Goddammit Cas. I've had enough goodbyes in my life. Not you. Not you too." Dean was now pacing and drinking and scowling and scheming. "We can figure something out. There's got to be–"

Castiel stood up directly in his path causing Dean to stop, but it was his eyes that compelled him to stay; they bore like weights pinning him in place. "The decision has been made. It's not up to me," Castiel said as he took a step closer. "If I had my way…" he nearly whispered as his glare softened and drifted from Dean's eyes toward his mouth.

Shoving Castiel against the chest, Dean took a step back. He knew that look and the meaning that stood so seductively behind it. "What the hell Cas? What are you trying to do to me?" It was supposed to sound angry, but it came out weak and needy.

Castiel failed to catch the ache in Dean's voice, being too wrapped up in the hurt. His eyes quickly averted downward. "I thought…"

"You thought what?" Dean quickly cut in. "That you'd drop in here with this sob story and those puppy dog eyes and that I'd what? I'd grip you tight and beg you to stay? Well I got news for ya Cas, I'm not into dudes man!"

Suddenly emboldened, Castiel raised his head. With determined eyes and a confident hand he reached out and pressed into Dean's shoulder where the handprint, his hand, lied underneath. Dean could have swore his skin moved, as it became warm and pliant under its maker. All over, everywhere, his body began to…hum? That's the only way he could think to describe it. It hummed and strained, suddenly hyper-aware at the nearness of Castiel. As the sensation intensified, Dean looked to him with a wtf expression. While they stood barely an arms length apart, Dean saw a light gleaming from and around the angel's eyes. It was a faint and fleeting reminder somehow of the dream he just had.

"Dean. I am not a man," Castiel stated with conviction. Ramping up the angel mojo, reminding Dean with little subtlety, that he was more, so much more, than the vessel that confined him.

"Well you sure as hell have man parts," Dean scoffed, taking a step back while waving his hand absently toward Castiel's waist. Instantly he became aware of his separation from the angel's hand. The brand on his shoulder reached further, dug deeper than before and it ached for Castiel's touch. He set his beer down and took advantage of the support the table offered, as he desperately tried to shake off the need to put the angel's hands–both of them–anywhere on him they were willing to go.

Giving himself a once over, Castiel returned his gaze to the visibly shaken hunter. "You know this is just a vessel, an…unfortunate formality."

Dean knew he was right. He knew, as well as he knew his own name, that had the angel picked a "jenny" rather than a "jimmy" he would have found–hell even fought–his way into the angel's arms months ago. And holy shit if he could do that with just a touch of his hand through a layer of clothes, imagine what… Completely unnerved, he husked under his breath, "It's more than a formality Cas. I can't. No matter how much I might want–aww forget it, you're a fucking angel. You wouldn't understand."

"You're wrong Dean. I do understand. I've been conflicted too. It's you who doesn't understand. You and I are connected in a deep physical way. When I found you in hell, you were…broken, and I put you back together the only way I knew how. You crawled out of that hole with parts of me within and they've been yearning for me ever since."

"So… What? You complete me?" Dean mocked, "Is that what you're saying?"

"In a manner of speaking…yes, that would be accurate. I know you felt it just now… when I touched you."

Reaching up, Dean rubbed the mark on his shoulder and realized he did that a lot. An unconscious habit, not unlike how one might clutch a cross from around their neck. A habit formed out of need, a need to draw strength, to ease an ache, to feel connected.

"Dean, I know you feel at odds with your very nature, but hear me when I say, what you're feeling is natural. My… An angel's appeal, can often times be…overwhelming to humans. All those feelings inside you don't understand, you're supposed to feel toward us. And for you, because of our connection, it's even stronger. It doesn't make you weak it makes you human. What is not natural is my...fixation with you. It's what put me on a short leash. It is wrong," Castiel stopped, as if weighing and calculating his next words. He again took another impossible step closer, his voice heavy with need. "It is wrong for an angel to…desire…a human."

His eyes never waivered from that human in front of him, but he drew a deep breath before continuing, "So right here, right now, is the only time I have off that leash." He reached up and touched Dean's shoulder once again.

Dean's eyes closed for just a moment, as his breath hitched inward and his inner voice betrayed him by thinking finally. He realized too he was holding that breath for fear of what might escape his lips, well aware that his body was betraying him too.

Castiel gained confidence by the power he seemed to be holding over the hunter and continued, "So you can close your eyes and let me…not Jimmy, say goodbye…properly. Or you can tell me to go to hell and watch me leave."

The proposal lingered on the air, while they remained fixed in their positions just a breath or an ocean apart. Both seemed to be waiting for a sign from the other about what move was next and who should be making it.

Dean was too stubborn, too straight and too damn proud to give in to what he now wanted more than anything. He wanted the angel's hands on him, wanted his mouth on him, wanted every inch of him on him. He wanted Castiel in every way but proper and it made him sick. Anger built up in him so hard and so fast, he couldn't stop the words from coming. "Go to hell Cas," he snapped in a tone that made Castiel flinch. The words cut deeper than any weapon the hunter could wield.

Castiel dropped his head, let his arm fall to his side, and the power he felt extinguished. He took a deep unsteady breath. If he were being honest, he was angry with himself, he should have known better. He had underestimated Dean's resolve or worse yet overestimated Dean's desire for him. He had no doubt, Dean didn't want him to leave, but wanting him to stay and actually wanting him were two different things. So this was it, the last time he'd ever come here and he hated leaving it this way, but he would not force himself on the hunter, not any more than he already had. He had been a fool and would embarrass himself no further. He took a resigned step backward, not yet able to look the hunter in the eye, afraid of what he might see, disgust he would guess.

But as he moved back he felt a tug on his coat. He looked to that side and saw Dean's white knuckled fist clutching the material. Quickly Castiel looked to the man's face for explanation and saw not only longing, but an urgent desperation. He was clenching his jaw as tightly as his hand was gripping the angel's coat. Dean's other arm then reached out and grabbed the other side just as firmly. As the angel watched, Dean closed his eyes with obvious intent.

Castiel smiled slightly, but wasted little time in getting straight to the point. He ran his fingers through Dean's hair and stepped all the way into his personal space. He paused and took a controlled breath as he felt Dean press into the contact. Dean's body flush against his own was the only consent he needed; Castiel leaned in and whispered against the hunter's ear, "No matter what we do…keep your eyes closed."

Dean knew it was a warning, but he couldn't help but be lured by the angel's words, the touch of his hand, the tone of his voice; the heat of his breath alone disintegrated any remaining doubt.

From behind closed eyes, Dean's entire vision went white with light. It felt warm and familiar, as much as it seemed mysterious and vast. He had no awareness of anything, other than that light, as the room they were in just faded away. The light was alive with an energy that Dean would swear he could hear. It surrounded him fully, coming from every direction, like a heartbeat pulsing and pulling at his body. Every nerve, every fiber inside him was affected and stirred with recognition. The parts within straining for connection with the whole, reacting to the energy, reaching for Castiel.

While Dean stood motionless, reveling in the sensations running through him, he felt the energy around him change. It was no longer just expansive, parts became concentrated and focused to the area right in front of him. Very quickly and without the gentleness one might expect from an angel, wings closed around him possessively. One wrapped around the back of his head and came to rest across his eyes. In his head the hunter heard the angel whisper, Just in case.

Being gripped by wings so intimately sent a whole new rush through Dean. However, that was nothing compared to the arousal sparked by Castiel's touch, on the side of his face and at his waist, bringing him close, igniting that hum. His own arms reached out to grab at Castiel. He found what felt like a body, only it didn't. It was like trying to hold raging water, there was form and force, but you couldn't really get your hands on it. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Dean was as much disappointed, as he was thankful.

A cool gentle tingle around his mouth now drew his attention. It circled and swirled across his top lip before becoming more persistent as it grabbed at his bottom one. The energy morphed into substance as he felt lips touch and move against his own. They were urgent, pushing and pulling at him, coaxing his mouth open. Dean parted his lips and dragged back and forth against the pressure. Desperate for a taste, Dean stroked deep into the angel's mouth. His hips jolted forward the instant Castiel's tongue met and tangled with his own. As they explored each other's mouths, Dean could feel the angel's energy filling his mouth, sliding down his throat, entering his chest. It wasn't until he heard Castiel's deep throaty voice, Dean. Breathe., that he realized he was holding his breath. The angel's lips pulled away, but the energy continued to seep and fill and fondle. Dean gasped for air and felt his knees buckle from under him.

In one fluid motion, the angel gripped him tight and had him on his back, lying in the embrace of powerful wings. Dean wondered for a moment if they were on the bed or if in fact they were suspended. Though he couldn't tell for sure what was under him, there was no doubt what was on him. He could feel pressure straddling his hips, grinding down slowly, deliberately. His own hips thrust upward, picking up the rhythm, seeking more contact. Dean's eager response enflamed the angel further and Castiel's taut line of control snapped. Lips met again, but this time all gentleness was gone. The kiss was messy and aggressive. Dean felt a fiery touch run up his chest to grip his shirt at the collar, with one clean jerk he felt it tear away. His wrists were then pinned above his head, exposing him to Castiel's touch. A touch that felt like hundreds of fingers, lips, tongues-running over his chest, along his neck, in his mouth. The humming, the pulsing, the touching, the grinding all happening simultaneously, Dean could no longer hang on. He growled out the angel's name as he came.

Before he had a chance to catch his breath, he felt the angel's mouth again, kissing and licking at his neck. Dean. I'm not ready to let you go.

A form of panic ran through Dean; he was absolutely not ready either; in so many ways he had just found his angel. "Don't go Cas. Not yet," he breathed with an angry desperation.

Dean felt Castiel move over his skin with purpose. Down his neck toward his shoulder where the angel's handprint was throbbing with anticipation. A shock ripped through his body the moment the energy reached it's destination. Dean felt Castiel's tongue and open mouth slowly trace the perimeter of the mark before the energy sank deep right into the center. It moved slowly, caressing it's way into every part of him, seducing him from the inside. The extreme intimacy almost caught Dean off guard with emotion, until he felt the button of his Levi's pop.

In stark contrast to the tender attention he was just receiving, his jeans, along with his boxers, were ripped down and off his legs. The most incredible sensation then enclosed itself around him fully. It teased and prodded at him before relinquishing him to travel north across his torso. Pressure ground down at his hips again, as lips and teeth pulled at his mouth. When Castiel began to move and rock against him, the hunter reached out and it sounded so needy, so pathetic, but he couldn't help it, he almost whimpered, "Please Cas I want to see you…need to feel you."

The angel came to abrupt stop. Dean, do you know what you are asking?

"Yes, Goddammit! I don't care anymore," he said as he began fumbling with the angel's wing, trying to pry it from his eyes. "Would you just power down so I can touch you."

The light in the room receded, but the tension on the air only increased. Dean didn't know what to expect once the "blindfold" was lifted, but somehow a fully clothed, hair tussled, and close to undone Castiel, straddling him was exactly what he wanted. As quickly as the angel's wing released him, Dean had Castiel pinned on his back underneath him. He dragged his fingers across Castiel's lips, along his neck, down his chest, where he grabbed ahold of the angel's tie. Pulling him close, he whispered, "My turn," into the angel's ear.

They took turns all night long. Their coupling was rough and desperate and at times fueled by anger. The situation was already unfair, so they spent no time adding to it's cruelty by being gentle with one another. They hardly spoke except for a few words pulled and coaxed and thrown around in the dark. Dean smirked as he took Castiel to the edge the first time and so forcefully threw him over. He'd never heard the angel swear before.

It took hours, but Dean's body finally gave in or gave out and he reluctantly drifted off. It was a light sleep that had him uneasy and restless. It wasn't long before he awoke startled, "Cas!?"

"I'm still here Dean," Castiel assured him with a comforting tone.

Dean relaxed a little until he rolled over to find the angel fully dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking so very sad. He could tell by his position that Castiel had been watching him sleep, like he'd done so many other nights in the past. In that moment, Dean felt the true gravity of all he was about to lose. His chest tightened as he felt the words before they were spoken.

Castiel brought his broken gaze to meet Dean's. "I have to go now," he said as he reached over to run gentle fingers along the hunter's thigh. It was a simple act, grazing fingertips on skin, but had focused Castiel's attention so intensely, that it became intimate and provocative almost instantly.

Dean pushed the angel's hand away. "Don't. Don't touch me like that. Not when you're about to leave me."

"I tried to leave while you were asleep, but I couldn't will myself to go. And I figured you'd never forgive me. But now…that look on your face. I'm so sorry Dean. For everything."

"You're right, I wouldn't have forgiven you. But it'd sure as hell beat this. Because this," Dean said as he motioned his finger back and forth between the two of them, "This right here… Sucks." He got up out of bed, searching for his pants and wondered for a moment if they were still in one piece. "So, I never see you again? I just forget about you, about everything we just did?" he said while pulling his jeans up over his hips.

The sadness on Dean's face was the most honest and undisguised emotion Castiel had ever seen in him. Feelings of anxiety and guilt invaded Castiel's being. He found himself worrying that maybe this had been a mistake. Maybe Dean would have been better off where he was yesterday, angry–probably, alone–still, but not this.

"Dean, I came here tonight to explain things. I needed you to know that I didn't just abandon you. I wanted to tell you how I really feel…how important you are to me. But that's only the half of it. I also didn't want to go through all of eternity wondering…wondering how it would feel to touch you. I was selfish and I'm sorry." Castiel bowed his head and hesitantly continued, "If you want me to, I can make you forget. Forget last night, some of it, all of it, all of me."

Realizing what Castiel was proposing scared the shit out of Dean. Castiel's existence gone from his memory? Last night, as fucked up and painful as it was amazing, completely erased? "No Cas, that's not what I want," he said while taking his place back on the bed. He wanted to look Castiel directly in the eye, to be sure he was understood. "Look, don't go getting any stupid ideas that somehow I'd be better off. I don't regret last night and I sure as hell don't want to forget you. Please Cas, promise me you won't. Memories are all I've got left."

Inside Castiel breathed a sigh of relief. "If that's what you wish…I promise." As it was, he knew it would take every last bit of him to walk away from Dean, but to do it a stranger, it was almost unfathomable. "I never wanted this to be so hard on you. Last night while you and I…" Castiel stumbled on his words as the events of the night flashed in his mind, "while we were…together, I reclaimed the parts of me that you've been carrying around. I was able to heal you completely, from the inside. Physically, you no longer need me."

Though they were both apparently "whole" again, Dean knew damn well in that moment they were the most broken they'd ever been. "Well I don't think it worked. I do need you. I'm already wanting you…again. What am I supposed to do with that? I've already lost Sam, I don't want to be alone Cas."

"I know and I wish things could be different. I've replayed it over and over in my head; there's nothing I could have changed, because you have changed me. To end up here was inevitable because I will always put you first…and they," he said directing his eyes upward, "will not allow that."

"Fuck them Cas. You've disobeyed orders before. Why not now? Now, when it's so much more…personal? Is this not worth fighting for? Aren't I?" The sting Dean felt was familiar and now so raw. Castiel had rubbed it raw with hope every time he looked at him with those fucking eyes. Those eyes that made him feel coveted, that said he was important, that had him thinking maybe…just maybe he was worth the fuss. Now he felt the rug being pulled from under him.

"Dean, you still don't get it. I wish you could see what I see, the goodness I see in you."

The look on Castiel's face reminded the hunter of a similar speech from what felt like a lifetime ago. The intensity behind that look is the first thing Dean remembered drawing him to the angel.

"Of course you're worth it," Castiel continued, "After all that's happened, how can you possibly think there's anything…I wouldn't do for you?"

"Only…not this time," Dean said, with a little more bite than he intended.

Castiel's face softened, as his eyes reached out, begging for Dean's understanding. "Dean. I was given an order by them, but I'm complying with it for you. I want nothing more than to stay here–with you–like this," he said while running his palm down Dean's arm, to stop at his hand, where it seemed Castiel lost his place. He was deep in thought tracing circles along Dean's fingers before pulling his hand back to continue, "But I have to do the right thing. I need to go be an angel and help clean up the mess that's become heaven. And you need to find yourself a life that you can be proud of, not messing around in the dark with an angel, a "guy" angel no less. I want you to be happy. You deserve better than this. You can have a family and a normal life. I could never give that to you."

The angel's words were gentle and sincere and Dean disagreed with them completely. He was aware that Castiel was once again trying to save him. But fuck this does not feel like the right thing at all. "You're probably right Cas."

He knew he'd never have a normal life. He was a hunter, there's no happily ever after in his future. "I'll be fine."

He wanted to argue, wanted to make Castiel understand. "I won't fight you."

But he couldn't.

They'd gotten out of impossible situations before, but at what cost? Dean was afraid of what the angel was capable of, of what he himself might be capable of requesting. He'd already witnessed the lengths to which Castiel would go for him. If Dean asked, would the angel fall…for him? He thought the answer might be yes and he didn't trust himself not to ask. Castiel had already sacrificed too much. Dean had to let him go, believing he was doing the right thing; thinking he was giving the hunter a shot at happiness. Dean knew he had to let him go, before he just couldn't.

Under a ton of what-ifs and mounds of different circumstances, Dean thought what he had here tonight could have been the closest he'd ever be to happy.

But he couldn't say all that.

Instead–though every instinct in him screamed otherwise–he forced out, "You can go."

Castiel felt heavy as he stood; it was an effort to focus and will his legs to move. He stared back at Dean intently, as if trying to memorize his eyes, his face.

Dean had a look of disbelief, like he almost expected someone to step in and stop what was about to happen. That little bit of faith is what hurt Castiel the most. After all wasn't it Castiel himself who promised Dean that good things do happen?

"Goodbye Dean Winchester," he finally managed and Dean fully realised.

Watching the hope drain from Dean's face almost brought Castiel – angel of the lord, soldier of heaven–to his knees. He turned around, knowing he couldn't look at Dean's face and still follow through.

"Cas wait!" Dean shot up out of the bed and Castiel had already turned back and closed the distance between them in an instant. Each of them grasped the other's face with urgency, as their mouths collided. The kiss was emotional and deep and desperate. Dean eventually had to pull back to catch his breath, but his hands instinctively gripped the angel's shoulders, where his fingers dug in. If he could just hold tight enough...maybe he'd stay and that lump in his throat would ease and the tightness in his chest would breathe air. For now though, they stood, eyes closed and foreheads touching, clung to each other, neither able to let go.

Dipping his head low, the angel placed a soft kiss upon the hunter's mouth. Dean shuttered a breath against Castiel's lips, as he tilted his head to respond just as tenderly. They kissed that way, soft and gentle and heartbreakingly passionate for not near long enough. Slowly, Dean felt Castiel pulling away, the kiss got slower, the pressure easing until…he vanished. Right there, in the middle of a kiss, in the early morning light, his angel left him in full dark.