Disclaimer: Supernatural and all of its characters belong to Kripke. Damn lucky bastard.

Warnings: None for this chapter beside brief smuttiness.

Please read and enjoy.

Mix & Match

Chapter 1: To Know Your Faults

"You're skin is so soft…" Dean breathed as he kissed a trail down pale skin, taking in every shiver his actions elicited.

"Ohh…" came the throaty reply, blue eyes wide and unfocused; clouded with pleasure.

His fingers ran through dark tousled hair, enjoying the way it slipped through his fingers, "I was watching you all night."

"I know…" another shiver nearly sent Dean thrusting into the body beneath him.

"Couldn't get you out of my head…"

Skin smoothed over skin and it drove Dean crazy. This, all of this, was his favorite part of not being on the job anymore. Once Lisa had kicked him out, he took advantage of everything he couldn't for months. Booze, fast food, long nights spent inside his beautiful car… Still, those he could get traveling the country with Sam. But this…Sammy never understood this…

"Ahh…Harder Dean…" and Dean bit down accordingly, savoring the taste of this creature's skin.

The passion behind this act, it drove Dean. Kept him going. Most find sex to be something purely physical and he had to admit that for awhile he thought of it that way too. But no, sex… With the right people… It made everything make sense. For him at least. He loved the scent of it, the sound of it. He almost craved it every night. To see big blue eyes stare at him in wonder as he slipped into that tight hot body. But Sam would never understand. So in a way, Dean was glad he was not there to see him like this.

He halted his movements at that thought. What the fuck did I just say?

"Dean…?" a frustrated groan, "Dean, no, don't stop. Please."

The ex-hunter let out a growl and rolled off of the body beneath him, gathering the sheets until they lay strewn across his lap, "I'm not in the mood anymore."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously," he replied angrily, grabbing a bottle of scotch off the bedside table, "Now get the fuck out Carrie."

The slender woman next to him let out an indignant sound, "Its Caitlin you asshole."

She rose from the bed and grabbed her clothing, putting her dress on before her underwear. An act to cover up her body in her embarrassment. Dean snorted at her and shrugged, reaching for the remote buried somewhere beneath the covers. The woman stumbled to find her shoes in the dimly lit motel room, deciding to ignore his presence altogether.

"Hey Cristina, where's the remote at?" Dean asked obnoxiously, "Did it get stuck up your ass or something?"

She bit back tears, reeling on him, "Fuck you, you son of a bitch."

Something about her blue eyes now flooded with tears made him bite back a nasty remark, "Hey now…" he forced himself to look away, "my mother was a nice lady."

"Well then," she sniffed, rubbing her cheeks, "I feel damn sorry for her, having a son like you."

He snorted in response, "Yeah. Me too."

When he looked up again, she was gone with a slam of the door. The man sighed heavily and rubbed at his eyes tiredly. Really, the TV held no interest for him anymore. He gave up on the remote search and stood, grabbing a pair of sweatpants from the floor. Pulling them on, he hobbled to the bathroom, intent on finding a bottle of aspirin he knew he'd need in the morning.

It was like routine for him really. Get drunk. Fuck the nearest chic who met certain requirements. Then kick her out to enjoy more liquor followed by a nice deep slumber. And repeat. The perfect recipe for getting through the rest of his cursed life. After finding what he needed and taking a much required piss, he headed back to the room. As his fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle, his thoughts returned to what had ended his sex-capade.

Sammy.

Glad that he's gone. And in a way he was. Dean loved his brother with all of his heart. Still, he was glad that Sam wasn't here to see him wasting away like this. He was glad that Sam didn't have to watch the world waste away anymore. His Sammy. His little brother was always so delicate at heart. Sam Winchester was never meant to be evil. He was tainted, yes but never evil. He cared too much. About the world. About people. About life. Love. Pursuit of happiness and all of that romantic bullshit. No, Sam Winchester was not evil.

He was weak.

And I'm glad he's gone.

Dean shook his head, fighting back tears that only came once in a blue moon. His fingers tightened on the bottle as he raised it to his lips, struggling to even take a sip. Bottom lip trembled, missing the opening completely, sending rivulets of alcohol down his bare chest.

"Shit…" he muttered, throwing the glass bottle at the wall harshly.

As the glass shattered, he could also hear the flapping of wings and almost laughed. Leave it to the angels to do the smiting at his lowest moments. His eyes drifted closed, not willing to turn around. If God had finally given the order to do him in, then he was happy. He'd die without resistance. Maybe he'll see his baby brother soon. Maybe he'll see…

"Dean."

Castiel.

He whipped around, green meeting blue in the utmost familiar way, "Cas?"

"Yes," the angel almost smiled, until he saw the glass covering the floor and the dark alcohol staining the carpet, "What happened here?"

Really, the Winchester didn't know whether to punch him or hug him. Maybe both. Maybe neither. Wait, did he ask something?

"Huh?" was all he could muster.

Castiel's eyes left the carpet to look at the confused man before him, "The floor. The glass. Was there an attack?"

Again with the drawing blanks, "Um. No?"

Dean stared at the angel in front of him. Castiel still inhabited Jimmy Novak's body. He still wore the same dress clothes and trench coat. His tie was still crooked. His hair still messy and uncombed. But there was something different about him. Cas was distant. He was too far away. Why was he so far away?

"What are you doing here?" Dean finally found his voice, pushing a bit of hardness into it.

"I came to check on you," was the easy reply. Castiel made it sound like it was the most obvious fact in the world.

The younger man scoffed, "It's been almost a year."

"I know-"

That's when Dean realized that the strange distance of Cas made him angry, "Yeah. It has been almost a year. Now you decide to show up?"

Castiel met his gaze with a clouded one, tilting his head to the side in his usual – and Lord help him, adorable – manner that drove Dean crazy in a thousand ways, "Was I supposed to see you about something before?"

Sonuva- "What the fuck, Cas?" he shouted, "Do I have to make appointments now?"

"Dean, I would like it if you calmed down."

"Yeah?" he fixed the angel with a look, "Well, I don't really give a shit."

"I did not come to argue with you-"

"Right, you came to 'check up' on me."

Castiel looked away, "I heard you've been having trouble…adjusting."

"Well- wait," Dean glared at him, "Heard? You angels are monitoring me?"

"No, not monitoring-"

He barked out a humorless laugh, "Stalking?"

Finally, the angel had a look of annoyance. Something that satisfied Dean.

"Listen Dean. If you needed any help you could have asked."

"Asked who, Cas?" he said lowly, forcing the angel to look him in the eyes, "The invisible angels that I didn't know were stalking me?" He inched closer, anger burning in his eyes, "Or you? Should I have asked you? Last time I saw you, you said you were going to be busy cleaning up heaven."

Castiel shook his head, "And when did you start caring what my orders were?"

A breathe caught in Dean's throat, he struggled for a reply. Well maybe the nerdo angel was right; maybe he should have called for him. But would he have come? The angel looked into Dean's eyes, he saw past the anger. There was something deeper there and he was afraid that if he tried to understand it, he would regret it. Finally, Dean straightened up, walking towards the bed.

"Well, I need sleep," he said gruffly, pulling back the covers to settle in.

"Have you talked to Sam?"

Dean's head snapped up, eyebrows raised, "Talked to Sam? Do I look like Haley Joel to you?"

"I do not understand that reference."

"Right."

"Still," Castiel continued, head tilted, "Sam. You have not spoken to him?"

Dean glared at him hard, "No. No I have not spoken to my dead brother Cas. What the hell, is this how you angels get off? Fucking around with us humans with sick jokes?"

"Sick joke," Castiel sputtered, "Wait. Dean. I thought you knew."

"Knew?" he barked, standing up, "Knew what?"

"Dean. Your brother is alive," his eyes met the ex-hunter's, "Sam Winchester has been alive for some months now."

I know, I suck. No slash in this chapter but I promise you; tons of slashy goodness to come. And once I get started, my perverted mind can't stop. =) Please review!