In Purgatory they find an empty cabin with a packed-earth floor, a half caved-in roof and a hearth where Dean lights a fire without thinking. Dean has been too tired for too long to think about what he's doing.

He sees Castiel standing in the firelight and remembers a time, maybe months ago, maybe a year, when Castiel told him, It's strange. It's as if you were a fire, and a spark leaped into me and made a home where it burns, happily, warmly, painfully. Dean didn't say anything at the time. He still never actually thinks about it, just holds the knowledge that Castiel loves him, tries to avoid deciding between being comforted or being scared by it.

Dean watches Castiel in the firelight, knows that the angel loves him, and feels tired. He doesn't think, just goes to him, puts one hand on the back of his neck and the other on his waist, and yes, the touch is a comfort.

He doesn't stop to think. He's not scared of the monsters outside because Castiel put up protections in his blood, and he knows that he's not scared of Castiel. Dean kisses him in the firelight.

Dean is tired of fighting, of running, of freezing and starving and being scared, of doing anything but seeking comfort. He kisses Castiel and it's not happy, it's not painful, but it is warm.

Dean feels a hand on his back, a hand in his hair, Castiel pressing closer, and the heat from the fire on his side. Castiel kisses him, maybe for minutes, maybe hours, Dean doesn't stop to think.

Castiel is always thinking, his mind running since he woke up all that time ago, Before, and he says to Dean, I rebuilt you from earth and clay, made a home for your soul, and breathed life into you. For a moment I thought I understood God. He whispers, You make me feel so small.

Dean takes Castiel's coat and spreads it on the ground, and rolls up his own as a place to rest their heads. He pulls the angel down to lay with him the firelight.

They kiss and touch, hands sliding under clothes, not undressing because they have to stay warm. Dean says things without thinking, because it makes him feel warm, like, I love you. He says things because it makes Castiel kiss him harder, grasp him tighter, like, I love you. He says I love you without thinking and Castiel pushes him onto his back, kisses him desperately, and when he pulls away his eyes are gleaming in the firelight, a blue fire of their own, and Dean wonders at how the angel looks more alive now than he has in a long time, since Before.

Dean doesn't think about it, but he knows that Before he wouldn't have said those things, that he wouldn't have laid down besides the angel. He's too tired to care, has been too tired for a long time. Castiel marks Dean's neck with love bites while he slides his palm across Dean's chest, trails his fingertips down his stomach, slips lower under Dean's clothes. He's clumsy and a bit frantic, grinding against Dean's thigh half-awares.

Dean raises his hands to Castiel's face, holds it between his palms so he can look into those eyes lit by a spark that he put there. He says something without thinking, and the angel breaths out his name, shudders, and stills. Dean lowers a hand to wrap around Castiel's hand, still wrapped around his cock, guides it to the rhythm he likes, squeezes it to get the right pressure. He comes too soon, but Dean's too tired to care. Anyways, it is sends a warmth flooding through him, and something that reminds him of happiness.

Dean and Castiel lay on the floor of a broken down cabin in Purgatory, sharing warmth, sharing breath in the firelight. There are monsters waiting for them outside, and there might never be an After, but Dean doesn't think about that.

Dean doesn't think about anything at all.