Summarry: This is a rewrite of the scene from 6.20 (The Man Who Would Be King) in which Castiel shows up at Bobby's house to try to explain to Dean. This is my Dean/Cas version.

Dean's sleeping.

Or rather, he wishes he were. Because then he might not have heard the whisper of his angel's wings permeating the air. Long ago, he learned the difference between the sound of Castiel's wings and those of the other angels. It doesn't matter now. Things are not as they once were, and Cas is on the wrong side of the fence.

Sitting up, Dean opened his eyes to face the angel before him.

"Hello, Dean." To anyone else, that would have sounded monotone, but Dean could sense the mix of emotions hidden beneath it…the love, the fear, the pain, and the anger. Mostly, he seemed angry.

"How'd you get in here," was his brilliant response. He tried not to sound angry as well, and failed miserably. But he had a right to be. Angry, that is. His lover had flat out lied to him. Repeatedly.

"The angel proofing Bobby put up on the house- you got a few things wrong." Dean didn't examine the work too closely. If he were honest with himself, he may have intentionally ignored an error here and there.

"It's too bad we've got to angel proof in the first place, isn't it." Dean truly meant that. He stood, intending to look into his lover's eyes. They held so much more than his vocalics would ever convey. "Why are you here?"

Striding forward, quite meaningfully, Castiel spoke, "I want you to understand-" Dean couldn't help but cutting him off, his emotions taking the front seat, though he longed to listen; he wished fruitlessly for the days where Castiel could tell him anything, and he'd believe it without question.

"Oh, believe me, I get it. Blah, blah, Raphael, right?" Castiel's brow furrowed. Sorrow painted his features like rain on a chalk drawing, and he replied.

"I'm doing this for you, Dean. I'm doing this because of you."

"Because of me…yeah, you gotta be kidding me." Dean turned around, using a smile to hide his impending tears. It hurt, knowing something so good, so right, went so wrong because you screwed up somewhere along the line. Cas actually thought that he was doing Dean a favor? Yeah, Dean screwed up.

"You're the one who taught me that freedom, and free will-" his patience was growing thin, and yet, Dean interrupted once more.

"You're a friggin' child, you know that?" Dean knew it was a low blow, but it needed to be said. He stepped closer and closer to Cas, continuing, "Just because you can do what you want, doesn't mean that you get to do whatever you want!" His voice was loud, he knew, but couldn't help. Sam and Bobby were both sleeping, just up the stairs, but Dean needed to get this out.

"I know what I'm doing, Dean." The momentary silence was thick between them, and Dean couldn't help but wonder if Cas actually did know…if he knew how much he was hurting the ones who loved him, and how badly this could end for all of them. Or for the two of them, for that matter.

How can one be with someone who so fundamentally betrayed them?

"I'm not going to logic you, okay?" He braced himself for what needed to come out next. "I'm saying, don't. Just cause. I'm asking you not to. That's it."

"I don't understand."

"I love you, you sorry son of a bitch. I really do. And you know that. So if I'm asking you not to do something, you've got to trust me, Cas!" He was at the end of his rope. He needed for Cas to understand.

"It's not that I don't trust you, Dean." Cas stepped forward until their chests were pressed together, a familiar stance for them. "I can't stop…"

Dean surged forward, pressing their lips together, desperately seeking the Castiel he once thought he knew. Arms wrapped firmly around each other, they sought to be one. Cas led them back to the couch as he wrapped his tongue around Dean's. Dean lay back with Castiel on top of him, and suddenly their clothes were gone. It didn't startle him as it once did, and truthfully, he didn't expect any different. This is why he ignored the mistaken sigils. He needed his Castiel.

Dean wrapped his arms around the back of his lover's neck, as he felt cool, wet fingers circling his entrance. He relaxed as much as he could, still wound tightly over all that he had learned today.

As Cas pressed his fingers in one by one, he thought of the first time they ever did this. Dean had to guide him through it, talking coherently past his own pleasure. It was the first time Castiel had participated in the act of fornication, though Balthazar had formerly offered. He had saved himself for Dean.

"Cas-" Dean gasped out, "I'm ready…" Castiel obliged his lover by removing his fingers, and slowly inching in. Dean's moans were quiet, but just loud enough for him to hear. Dean had once told him that no one else made him feel so good, in bed, and out. Before, that had been a point of pride for the angel. Now, it just made him sick. He wanted so badly for Dean to understand, but he knew that it would not happen. Even in the midst of giving him pleasure, Castiel was causing him pain.

He snapped his hips forward and back, grazing over that little spot that Dean loved so much, that made his eyes roll backwards after a while. He relinquished his lover's lips in favor of sucking a hickey into his neck, causing Dean to suppress a shudder. Cas knew that he erected a soundproof 'bubble" of sorts around them, so they needn't worry about noise, but it was always something Dean was worried about. Whether or not it was because he was frightened of Sam figuring out their relationship was debatable, but Castiel was sure that Sam knew when they started getting separate rooms a few months back.

Dean writhed underneath his lover's hands, rolling his hips to meet every thrust. It was too hard to stay angry when Castiel was treating him like he was the only thing in the universe that mattered. He could feel the buildup, the way his orgasm was fast approaching. But, he made no effort to jerk himself like he usually did. He wanted it to be just as it was. He shouldn't need anything more.

Castiel was close, too. His hips stuttered in their rhythm, and he released into his lover. Dean felt every bit of it, how it shot right into his prostrate, and he rocketed over the edge. His release coated their bellies as Castiel lowered himself to sprawl across his chest.

"I can't…Dean. I can't do what you want me to." Castiel whispered. We're his voice at any higher a volume, it would have cracked a bit. This is the closest that he's ever been to crying.

"Then I'll have to do what I have to do to stop you, Cas." Dean whispered back.

"I know." Their lips slotted together, and it felt like goodbye.

Castiel slipped away when Dean closed his eyes, and he opened them again to be fully dressed, in a mirror of the position he was in before Castiel arrived.

But he couldn't hold back the tears any longer.

He once again sat up, burying his head in his hands.

"Dean?" Sam called, walking hesitantly in to the room. "Are you okay?"

"Just give me a minute." Dean sobbed out; face never moving from his palms. Sam sat next to him, wrapping long arms around his torso in an attempt to comfort.

"It's okay, Dean. We'll figure this out."