Castiel didn't die in the reservoir.

Dean knows this because he found Castiel's body a week later abandoned in the woods nearby and freshly dead. He lay amongst the leaves, looking for all the world as if he was sleeping as long as Dean ignored the tiny lines of crusted-up blood trailing from his ears, nose and mouth.

Perhaps it was just a product of the way he'd been brought up, but Dean knelt to examine the corpse, running his hands over the clammy skin that had at one time belonged to his… his what?

"My angel," Dean decided aloud, cradling Castiel's head in his hands the way he'd never had opportunity to do while Cas was living thumbs brushing over surprisingly delicate cheek bones and still-soft lips. He'd never truly appreciated just how pretty Castiel was, his sightless blue eyes such a pure, beautiful color.

Finger's winding through Castiel's hair, Dean didn't even realize that he was crying until he was wiping the moisture from Castiel's face. He leant in to press a kiss to those gorgeous, slack lips, somehow hoping to feel something more in return. "Don't cry baby," He whispered, ducking his head into the soft skin of the dead angel's neck, "you're in a better place now."

Castiel yielded to him with his next kiss, allowing Dean access to his mouth without complaint, content to just lie in his arms for a while. The way they never had time for while he was alive.

But this was going to be different, because without Cas: there was absolutely nothing left living for, no reason that Dean should have to keep fighting. He had all the time in the world. "Isn't that right?" He asked, easing down Castiel's zipper. It's always been rough and rushed and every time it was like the world was ending.

Now that Dean's world was over… "Gonna show you Cas, how it – how we should have been."

He lay Castiel back on the thick carpet of leaves, one last lingering touch on his face before he started to unbutton the angel's shirt, kissing his way down the smooth flesh his fingers unveiled little by little. His chest was cool under Dean's lips, but that didn't deter him. Dean tongued the skin gently, stopping to nip gently at peaked nipples the way that always had Cas squirming.

He was still now though, completely pliant even when Dean sucked a weakly pink hickey into existence on the angel's slightly distended belly.

But even that was alright, because Dean followed it up by easing off Castiel's pants and boxers, stroking along his hipbones, his thighs. "Like that baby?" The angel's dick lay soft and vulnerable between those very same milky thighs, and Dean took it into his hand without a second thought. "I'll make it good for you; promise."

He stroked Cas gently, fingers exploring the length of his lover's cock. He'd never noticed the slight curve to it, the perfect bell-shape to the head. Dean took it into his mouth, remembering frantic blowjobs in the front seat of the Impala, behind abandoned buildings, in cheap, disgusting motels – always in a hurry, meant to slick one of them up enough, or get off as fast as possible.

Castiel's first time, Dean remembered, unbidden, as he slipped a finger down between Castiel's legs, easing them open just a bit more until he could brush against the tight pucker of Castiel's hole – Castiel's first time had been in a run-down shed; just a bit of spit, and they'd both come within a minute, pants still around their ankles.

He came up for air quickly, moving up to kiss Castiel once more, tongue swiping gently over his lips. "I'm so sorry," Dean whispered to his lover, tears falling yet again – if they'd ever stopped in the first place – "Not how I wanted to do it Cas; you deserved so much better."

And of course Castiel's not protesting, but the guilt and the regret are threatening to eat Dean alive.

Because Castiel is still so beautiful laid out beneath him like this, and Dean has never loved him more.

"Let me make it up to you," He pleads, adjusting them. He's going to show Cas one last time – because this, this is finally the last time, for all of those harsh fucks that pretended to be. Dean can't even pretend to appreciate the irony, but he slicks up his own cock, slipping between Castiel's spread legs.

The angel is boneless, flopping a bit when Dean tries to position them, and the backs of his legs and his ass are stained red with his settling blood, but he's got to do it this way. They've got to do it face to face this once.

Dean wants to see for once what Castiel's face looks like when he comes.

He pushes in gently, careful not to tear the tight opening, the muscles relaxed enough that no preparation is needed, but still pleasantly firm against his cock. Though Castiel's skin is cold under his hands, Dean can picture him opening up willingly for him, the way the gasses shift inside the body almost a groan of pleasure.

He thrusts in a few times, eyes roaming over the beautiful body laid out in front of him before Dean's changing the angle, leaning forward further to lie on top of Castiel so they're touching everywhere. He reaches up, catches Castiel's head in his hands again and threads his hands through the soft black hair to hold Castiel's face up to meet his own.

He trains his eyes on the deep blue ones of his angel, and Dean can see in his mind's eye exactly the way they used to sparkle – so full of life, so full of love.

And then he's coming, pleasure washing over him until he can't help but shut his eyes, gripping tight to Castiel, holding onto him for dear life. "I love you Cas," he sobs, the first time he's ever said it, and for a moment, he could swear that Castiel is alive beneath him once more.

"I love you too," He whispers, and gentle wings ghost against his back, but then Dean makes the mistake of opening his eyes and it's just the rustle of wind through the forest and against his skin.

He's all alone save for the corpse of his angel, blue eyes staring on forever towards the sky.