They spent the whole day at the mansion, looking through it once again, but that accomplished nothing. The house was full of old furniture, books, clothes, and household stuff, but the keepers couldn't say exactly which ones belonged to the owners and which did not. Finally exhausted, they called it quits and decided to continue the next day.

Dean left for his date, and Sam promised to look through the old newspapers one more time. Castiel offered to help him, but after an hour he realized there was no point in that. There were lots of newspapers from that time, but none of them contained information they needed.

He left the motel to catch a breath of fresh air and sat cross-legged on the hood of the Impala. The night was chilly, and Castiel only had a t-shirt on, but he liked the feeling of cold against his skin. It cleared his head while he pondered over the events of the last few days.

It was becoming obvious that they were at a dead end with their research. Sam didn't say anything, but Castiel saw the enthusiasm die in his eyes.

He wasn't sure how long he would be able to stand it. The burning ache inside his chest worsened every time he thought about Dean and the waitress. After what had happened the day before, after Dean had showed him how good it could be – even though he did it with the best intentions in mind — Castiel wasn't sure he could handle it. And what if they did not figure it out? What if he would have to live with it? How long would he manage to stand seeing Dean with different women? All these emotions were new to him, and now he wasn't even sure he could bear them. He looked up at the night sky and let out a sigh. Being human wasn't easy. It's hard to live when the future is so vague.

"I thought you were doing research," a familiar voice sounded from behind. He could recognize that voice anywhere.

"Dean?" He turned his head, surprised. "I thought you were on a date."

"Yeah, well." Dean walked towards the car and stood, leaning against the hood, crossing his arms on his chest. "Cancelled it." He gave Castiel a smile. "Figured I'd help you with the research."

"Thank you. But I believe there is no point in that. You might want to get back to your date."

"Nah." Dean lifted his eyes to the inky darkness of the sky sprinkled with stars. "Someone else was on my mind anyways."

That statement caught Castiel off guard. Did Dean mean what he thought he did? And why would he say something like that? That was impossible. He decided not to dwell on that; maybe Dean would just let the issue go. But he didn't. "Don't you wanna know who?" he continued.

"Should I?" Castiel couldn't help but sound slightly resentful.

Dean took a step closer, standing right in front of him, and put a hand on his naked forearm. "Dude, it's cold out here. You might want to put something on before you freeze."

Castiel quirked an eyebrow at the sudden change of topic. "I've been to places much colder than this, Dean. You should have seen the North Pole."

Dean's thumb started rubbing small circles into his skin, and it instantly covered with goose bumps that had nothing to do with the cold. "Yeah, but you weren't…" He didn't finish.

"Was not what? Weak? Human?" Castiel fixed his eyes on Dean's, waiting for the answer.

Dean returned the look. "That is not what I was going to say." He put the other hand on Cas' shoulder and pulled him closer. Castiel gasped a little in surprise but didn't resist. He had to put his arms around Dean to make the position less uncomfortable, and Dean put his arms around him, turning it into a hug. Castiel couldn't complain. Dean was warm, and the smell of him was making him lightheaded. He drew in a long breath to steady his racing heart.

"Why are you doing this?" he whispered in the crook of Dean's neck. He had to ask, even though he was reluctant to break the sheltered atmosphere of the moment. But if this was one of Dean's ways of showing him that being in love was 'awesome', Castiel didn't want it.

Dean didn't reply. Not with words anyway. Instead he leaned in and placed a kiss on Cas' lips. It was chaste - nothing like the kiss they had shared the night before – just a gentle touch that didn't linger, and then Dean drew back, pressing their foreheads together.

"Oh," Castiel breathed out in realization. And then it was him who closed the distance between their mouths.

This time it was needy, messy, and hot. Castiel hung his legs from the edge of the car, Dean standing between them. They grasped at each other, fingers tangling in hair, pulling at each other's clothes, soft moans filling the air around them.

"Cas, Cas, wait," Dean managed in between kisses. Castiel froze, squeezing his eyes shut. There it was. Now Dean would say that it was all a mistake, that they shouldn't do this. He wanted to get away, to disappear, and to avoid the embarrassment and awkwardness that would follow.

Instead, Dean lowered his head, nibbling at the skin of Cas' neck, and then murmured in his ear, "How about we take this somewhere more comfortable?"

Castiel didn't remember how they reached his motel room. The next thing he knew, he was struggling with the key in the lock with one hand and grasping at the collar of Dean's shirt with the other, unable to tear himself away from his mouth. They stumbled over the threshold together and headed for the bed, falling on it in a mess of entangled limbs and gasps.

Castiel leaned back into the mattress, reveling in the feeling of Dean's tongue and teeth moving from his jaw down his neck. He stroked Dean's short cut hair, enjoying the way it slightly tickled between his fingers. Dean's body was solid warmth that pressed him down into the sheets, rousing sensations Castiel had never experienced before.

He helped Dean to get rid of their clothes, numb fingers fidgeting with disobedient buttons, tearing off those that wouldn't give in. Garments were hastily thrown on the floor, and soon both of them were completely naked.

Dean hovered over the bed for a brief second, taking in the sight that lay before him. His cheeks were flushed, lips sore, hair messed up like Castiel has never seen it before. "You're beautiful," he whispered, and Castiel smiled, not because he had to, but because he could no longer keep the overwhelming joy that grew inside him contained. Dean bent down to kiss him. It was sloppy, hurried, and perfect.

Everything about Dean was perfect. Every time Castiel thought that he was at the limit, that it could not be better, Dean proved him wrong, sending him to places he had never been before. Castiel realized why humans were so eager for it. The whole world shrank to the size of the small room where Dean moved over him in a delightful rhythm, body flushed and glistening in the light that came through the murky window. For once it didn't matter why they were doing this or what forced them to do it. They were in this together – Dean and Castiel – and for the first time since it had started, Castiel didn't regret any of it; now he knew he wasn't alone in this. Somewhere in between half-consciousness and the moment of bliss where he chanted Dean's name like a prayer, fisting the damp sheets underneath him, the realization struck.

He didn't want this to end.

Dean rolled away from Cas, still breathing heavily, and placed a lazy kiss on his lips. Castiel kissed him back, regretting the loss of warmth when his wet skin came in contact with the cool air. He turned to his side so that they were lying face to face and looked into Dean's eyes.

"Hey." Dean smiled and put his hand on the nape of Cas' neck, fingers playing with the soft, damp hair.

Castiel's eyelids were so heavy he barely managed to keep his eyes open. The lack of sleep within the last few days finally reminded him of itself. After a few seconds he gave up fighting.

"Sleepy now?" Dean murmured and placed another kiss on Cas' temple.

"Mmmh," Castiel replied into the pillow. He felt Dean's arm wrap around his waist and pull them closer.

A sudden thought flashed across his mind when Castiel was already falling into oblivion.

"Dean?" he whispered.

"Yeah, Cas?" Dean's groggy voice told him that he was also already half-asleep.

"So who was it?"

Dean was confused. "Who was what?"

"Who was on your mind all evening?"

Castiel heard a quiet laugh and felt another kiss on his lips.

Dean woke up to the sound of his cell phone coming from somewhere on the floor. He wanted to ignore it, reluctant to leave the snug warmth the bed and the body curled next to him provided, but it kept ringing persistently.

"Dean? Where are you?" his brother's voice asked from the phone when Dean finally found it in the pocket of his discarded jeans.

"Uh," I'm in the next room in bed with our ex-angel friend. "Not far. Why? What time is it?"

"Around ten." Sam sounded a little agitated, but Dean was still too sleepy to dwell on it. "Meet me in the diner in fifteen minutes?"

Dean glanced at his reflection in the mirror. "Make it thirty." First he needed a hot shower.

"Okay, see you then." Sam hung up.

Dean turned back to the mop of hair darkening his pillow. Bright blue eyes were looking up at him, and Dean felt a little guilty for talking too loud and waking Cas up.

"Morning," Castiel murmured sleepily and shifted the blanket to cover his bare shoulders from the cool air.

"Hey." Dean beamed at him. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you up."

"It's fine. Otherwise I'd have slept for ages." Castiel smiled at him fondly, and Dean had a hard time keeping himself from crawling back under the blanket.

"Sam wants to see me; I have to go before he comes here looking for you," he said, not sure who he was convincing more – himself or Cas. Staying in bed with Cas all day sounded more than just appealing.

Castiel nodded, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "I'll be right behind you."

"Seems like somebody got laid last night." Sam quirked an eyebrow at his brother, taking in the blissful smile on Dean's face. Dean didn't care; he couldn't help himself.

But then Sam's facial expression turned to accusation. "You should have seen Cas last night when you left. I tell you, man, he was crushed. I've never seen him like that before. I didn't know what to do."

Dean smirked. "Oh, don't worry, Sam. Cas is just fine."

Sam frowned. "How do you know? You just left with that girl without a word. Do you have any idea what he's been going through lately?" His tone was downright reproachful.

Dean opened his mouth to say that he had a damn good idea but didn't finish. The waitress – the one he'd had an appointment with – approached their table and asked what she could get them. She was smiling, but that smile had nothing in common with the one she'd given them the day before.

Sam was giving her their order when Castiel appeared in the doorway. He brushed past the waitress, giving her no more than a brief glance, and slid into the booth next to Dean. His hair was still a little damp from the shower, and he smelled like the soap Dean had used half an hour ago.

"Good morning," he said lazily and then reached out and kissed Dean on the lips, not-so-accidently slipping his tongue in his mouth.

At first Dean froze in surprise but then went with it and kissed him back. He couldn't deny Cas a little surge of possessiveness. "Morning," he greeted when they finally parted.

An awkward silence hung above the table. Both the waitress and Sam were staring at them with wide eyes.

Dean was the one to break the silence. He cleared his throat. "And another coffee, please," he said to the girl with perfect calm.

Castiel shook his head. "I need something more than that to get my energy back up," he said meaningfully; the corners of his lips twitched in a barely concealed smile. "I'll have what Dean is having," he finally decided.

The waitress wrote down their order and hurried away.

"What was that?" Sam looked dumfounded.

Castiel helped himself to Dean's coffee. "Dean hasn't told you yet?"

"Told me what?"

"That he was cursed, too. In the mansion."

"What?" both Dean and Sam cried out.

"Dean, why didn't you tell me?" Sam asked his brother.

Dean was still staring at Cas. "I didn't…"

Castiel put his hand on Dean's and squeezed it reassuringly. "It's alright, Dean. I think Sam should know."

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but Sam interrupted them. "Don't worry, Dean, it doesn't matter now anyways. I found the way to fix it."

"You… did?" Both Dean and Castiel turned their attention to him.

"Yeah." Sam smiled victoriously. "Sorry I didn't say that earlier. The waitress distracted me."

Castiel's fingers loosened their grip on Dean's, and he slowly moved his hand away. Blood was pounding in Dean's ears, and the rest of what Sam said was vague.

He found out that there was a casket kept in the house with the lock of Maurice's hair he gave Lydia the day he went to war. Sam was sure that was the object that kept his ghost in the house. Getting the casket was easy and burning the hair was even easier.

The rest happened in a blur. They broke into the museum that same night and stole the casket. None of them talked. Castiel didn't even look in Dean's direction, preferring to retreat into himself. It was driving Dean mad.

"Are you guys ready?" Sam asked, holding a lighter over the bucket where they had placed the lock of hair.

"Sam, can you give us a minute?"

"Sure." Sam nodded. "Take your time."

Dean took hold of Castiel's wrist, not giving him time to protest, and pulled him aside.

"What is it, Dean?" Castiel frowned at him.

"Cas, I just…" Suddenly Dean forgot all that he'd been going to say. "I just want to make sure that we're cool. We are, right?"

Castiel nodded. "I believe so."

"I just don't want things to be awkward between us, you know?" That was so not what he wanted to say. But standing face to face with Cas, looking him in the eyes – that was too much. Dean mentally called himself a coward. "I want you to know that I won't regret it. Any of it," he added meaningfully.

Castiel studied him for a while. "Neither will I." He squeezed Dean's shoulder lightly and stepped aside, letting him know that the conversation was over.

They burnt the lock and took off, heading for the motel. Dean threw occasional glances at Cas through the rear view mirror, but their eyes never met. Castiel curled up in the backseat, claiming that he finally could sleep and spent the whole ride with his eyes closed. Sam didn't talk much either. Not that they talked a lot during car rides, but this time the silence was tense.

After that, Sam suggested that they take a break and stay at Bobby's for a while. He said that all of them needed rest after what had happened, and Bobby's place was the best option. Besides, they didn't have any new hunts.

Dean didn't want rest. He knew it wouldn't help distract him, but Sam eventually convinced him that Cas needed it as he hadn't had any rest ever since he became human.

Bobby didn't ask any questions. Dean knew that Sam had probably told him everything, but he was nevertheless grateful that nobody reminded him of it again. Castiel was enough of a reminder, thank you very much. Sometimes Dean wondered whether he too thought about what had happened between them. Even if he did, he never showed it.

Days passed, nothing happened, and finally the awkwardness and the tension between them started to subside.

Bobby insisted that they stay longer at his place. It was a week before Christmas, and it was the first time in a while that nobody was dying or going to Hell, which was a good enough reason to celebrate. Somehow everybody agreed. Dean couldn't remember the last time they'd had a full Christmas vacation. Besides, it was Cas' first Christmas as a human, and both Dean and Sam wanted to make it good for him.

One evening Dean even decided to make a pie, a real one, made from scratch. This was very weird because he wasn't fond of cooking. The last time he remembered making pie it was for a seven year old Sammy. "I'm telling you, this is gonna be the best damn pie you've ever had," he announced, mixing the ingredients in a bowl.

Sam stared at him with horror. "Yeah, right. Last time you said so, I was sick for a week."

Castiel let out a laugh, glancing at them from his spot at the kitchen counter. He looked amused.

"Don't listen to him, Cas. You're gonna love it, I promise." Dean wasn't sure what had gotten into him, but he was in an amazingly good mood for no obvious reason. Maybe it was the holiday spirit, maybe the few good memories of childhood that had been stirred up. "You're not gonna get any pie, Sam," he teased.

Sam quirked an eyebrow. "Good for me."

Dean ignored him. "Cas, would you pass me the flour, please?" He waved in the direction of the counter.

Castiel set aside his mug and took the flour, passing it to Dean.

"Thanks." Dean took it and reached out to place a chaste kiss under Cas' jaw. Only then did he realize what he'd just done. Castiel froze, staring at him in shock.

"Uh, sorry," Dean said sheepishly and felt his cheeks burn.

"It's… fine," Castiel replied automatically, then turned around and left the kitchen without any other words.

Dean felt like an idiot. He'd spoiled everything. They had just started to fall into the old routine, and now Castiel could be thinking anything and freaking out. All of that because Dean let his guard down once, let himself relax. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Castiel didn't come out from his room all evening. Dean wanted to go check on him but then decided to give him some time alone.

Dean needed a distraction, and after pacing restlessly around the house for an hour he took Sam's laptop. What could be a better distraction than visiting ? But something caught his attention before he opened a new window in the browser. There was an already opened website, and what was written there made Dean jump.

"Sam? Sam!" He stormed into the kitchen where Sam and Bobby were.

"What is it, Dean?" Sam asked, surprised. Then he saw the laptop and recognition flashed in his eyes.

"What the hell is this?" Dean almost shouted, dropping the laptop on the table before his brother.

"That's my laptop," Sam said without blinking.

"No, I mean this." Dean pointed at the screen. "That's a friggin' X-files website with an episode transcript. And it's all here." He poked the screen with his index finger. "The story you told us about the mansion, it's all here, word for word. Even the names are the same. And this…" He switched to another open window. "Is the address of the mansion, but guess what? There is nothing about Maurice and Lydia in here." He glared down at his brother, feeling as if he were going to explode.

Sam scratched the back of his head. "Uh, yeah, about that. I was going to tell you." He smiled sheepishly. "I kinda made it all up."

"You what?" Dean couldn't believe his ears. "Why?"

Sam sighed. "I'm sorry, Dean." In his defense, he sounded genuinely sorry. "I got tired of you and Cas dancing around each other all this time. Even before he started hunting with us I saw the way you looked at him. And I saw the way he looked at you. But you both are so oblivious and stubborn; you would never have admitted that." He looked up at Dean. "I just wanted to help. Thought you would figure it out on your own eventually."

Dean couldn't believe it. He stood dumbfounded, staring at his brother, unable to say a word. Pieces of the puzzle slowly connected, making the whole picture clear. How Sam did almost all the research and talked to the witnesses and Bobby. Which reminded him…

He turned his attention to the older man. "Bobby? You were on this, too?"

Bobby shrugged. "It was Sam's idea. But I'd seen this thing going on between you two for a long time, so when he suggested that, I thought it was a good idea."

"I can't believe it." Dean ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up. "Let me get this straight," he said. "There was no curse?"

Sam shook his head. "No curse. I just had to hope that one of you was impressionable enough to believe in it. And I have to admit I thought it would be you, not Cas."

"Cas." Dean suddenly remembered that he still didn't know anything. He ran out of the kitchen, calling for him. "Cas! Cas, you bastard! Come down here!"

Castiel appeared on the top of the stairs. "Dean? What happened?" He looked startled.

"Cas, it was all a lie," He blurted out, running up the stairs.

"What was a lie?" Castiel frowned, not getting it, but took a step towards Dean.

"The house. The curse." Dean wasn't getting any more coherent. "Sam made it all up. There was no curse, Cas." He grinned probably the stupidest grin ever.

"But… I don't understand…" Castiel looked confused. "I didn't make it up. I was in love with you, Dean."

"I know," Dean breathed out and entered Cas' personal space. "That means you still are," he whispered, looking into the brilliant blue eyes.

Castiel frowned. "But… how do we know for sure?" he asked, lowering his voice.

Dean smirked. "There is only one way to find out." He lifted his head – Cas was still standing on the upper step —and kissed him gently. Castiel's lips parted and let him in. Dean gasped and put his hands on his hips, pulling them closer.

"Well?" he asked when they parted. Instead of answering, Castiel kissed him again. "I'll take that as a yes." Dean laughed, pressing their foreheads together.

"I don't know, Dean," Castiel murmured with fake doubt in his voice, fingers playing with the collar of Dean's shirt. "We need to make sure." He grinned and dragged Dean upstairs towards his room.

"How about we get some groceries?" Sam asked Bobby. "I think this will take a while. I don't need any mental images of what's going on up there."

"Hell yeah," Bobby agreed eagerly, looking around for his car keys. "I hope those idjits don't ruin my carpet."

Sam laughed. "I wouldn't be too hopeful."

The End