AN- this is complete for now. I'll come back to it later. Thanks for reading. I know it's been kinda weird.

oOo

Dean dusted off his clothing the best that he could. He thought he did a fairly good job of it considering he had just dug himself out of his own grave. Now that he could cross that off of his 'horrific things I never wanted to do' list, Dean looked around to find himself upright on a wide open prairie, all tall dead grass and sun cracked, hot baked earth. Apparently he had been buried out in the middle of 'fuck all' nowhere and 'damned if I know' somewhere.

"Cas?" Dean tried, his voice all scratchy from disuse and sudden bouts of surprised, enraged yelling that had come upon him from time to time after finding himself on the working side of a coffin. Needless to say, Dean hadn't been too happy about waking up in his own grave. Stupid angel.

Taking himself into consideration, Dean looked his body over. He seemed to be all in one piece which was a pleasant surprise considering the state he had been in last time he was upright and breathing. While Sam had herded the townsfolk away to safety, the demons had worked Dean over pretty good before he had called down the angel to smite the holy hell out of them and given up the ghost, but everything seemed to be in fine working order, factory new it would seem. All his fingers and toes were accounted for and even all his scars appeared to be erased off his skin. The only marks left on his body was his anti-possession tattoo over his heart and a swollen handprint branded into his left shoulder, the skin puffy and sore. It also seemed to be already healing though right before Dean's eyes, the crimson leaching out of the scarred flesh to a bone white that starkly stood out against his tan skin.

"Cas? Castiel?" Dean asked the empty spaces of the plains to no response from any member of the angelic host much less a certain angel with intense blue eyes and dark hair. After a tense moment of waiting, Dean rolled his eyes as he looked up toward the sky as if for answers to questions and patience he would not receive.

Given his options or lack there of, Dean let out a long sigh and started walking, following the glaring sun's path. All civilization, hopefully along with his brother and beloved car, lay in the West away from the ruin of what was once the East Coast. As the universe's crappy sense of humor would have it though, civilization found Dean first on the road in the form of a filthy highwayman who decided to pause just long enough in his travels to hold Dean up at gunpoint from atop his horse.

"Seriously? You're trying to rob me? Does it look like I have anything worth stealing, dip shit? I'm on foot with the clothes on my back, covered in a grave's worth of dirt. How the hell does any of that translate into 'worth my time' or 'profitable' to you?" Dean snarled, so over and 100% done with everyone's and everything's shit. He wished he could say he didn't remember life being this ridiculous but schmeh, Winchester luck at its best he supposed. Dean mused he really ought to have some t-shirts made up about it.

Not in on Dean's internal gripes with the fates-that-be, the highwayman grinned down at him with ruined, tobacco stained teeth, gesturing with his firearm in the universal signal to strip down. Arching a brow at him, Dean decided the guy had been out in the sun way too long.

"Kinky but I don't swing that way. You know what? Fuck this noise." Dean growled, grabbing the would be robber behind his wrist, twisted, and pulled. Unbalanced, the man went flying off of the horse to find himself disarmed and his own gun being pointed at his head.

"That's a mighty fine horse you got there. I think I'll be taking it along with whatever else you have on you." Dean grinned. The day was beginning to look up.

oOo

Dean's first stop to announce his arrival back to the land of the living was Bobby Singer, an old friend of the family. The man was like a second father to the Winchester boys and if anyone would know where Sam and his car was, Bobby would.

The Singers were the keepers of lore, secrets, and ancient knowledge, the levels of which remained unrivaled. It came at a price though as the last remaining member of the family will tell you if he felt like answering such a mundane question. Bobby Singer was the most skilled spell caster of a generation and fount of forgotten lore and ritual. He was also a shameless drunk and one hell of a paranoid bastard if one could believe Crowley, the demon king of the Crossroads, who also happened to be Bobby's bonded servant. No one knew how wily old hunter had managed that one and he wasn't telling. The Singer's home base was situated in what was left of South Dakota, the blessed and cursed property line circled with veins of iron, captured lightening, and salt.

Passing over the crackling perimeter unscathed, Dean was relieved that his password and blood sigil still worked, though he was partially surprised that it still did. Bobby might be a bit of a drunk (and really who could blame him considering their line of work) but he was smart with a healthy dose of paranoia that had kept him alive this long. Dean would have never figured him for a sentimental bastard.

"Surprise." Dean said when Bobby opened his front door. Dean made sure to keep his palms up, open, and away from his sides to show that he was unarmed and sort of harmless.

I don't…" Bobby gaped openly at him, taking in all the grave dirt that refused to come out of his clothing and the very much alive Dean Winchester standing on his porch with a hopeful expression on his face.

"Yeah, me neither…" Dean's word's stumbled over themselves, attempting and failing to explain his existence. "…but here I am…."

In in opinion, it was a good start but Dean never got to finish it, the hunter interrupted when Bobby lunged at him with a silver blade in hand. "Bobby! Its me!" Dean yelped, dodging and disarming the other hunter with a lot more effort than Dean would have cared to admit aloud to anyone. People could talk all they want about him but Bobby was still a tough old hunter.

"My ass!" Bobby snapped, going for another weapon. Dean was sure that he had several nasty things on his person and that this could go on all day if he let it. Dean was just grateful that Bobby hadn't resorted yet to incantations. Spending the rest of his life as something small, moist, and slimy did not sound appealing.

"Bobby! It's me, damn it!" Dean told him firmly, trying to stay calm as he debated with himself on whether or not to toss the knife aside. Bobby didn't look like he was about to give up the fight, already having another blade already in hand. This one had symbols etched into its metal though, so that meant Bobby was about to get serious and start casting some spells. "I'm not a shape shifter!"

"Then you're a reverent!" Bobby yelled, trying to go in for the kill again. Dean blocked his attack before putting some distance between them, holding up his borrowed knife against his arm.

"Then could I do this with a silver knife?" Dean said as he cut open his forearm. All Bobby's blades were silver, blessed, and spelled so the minor inconvenience of the wound was well worth proving his humanity. Nothing supernatural that they hunted would be able to handle them much less cut their skin with them without some sort of ill effect.

"Dean?" Bobby's eyes went wide in realization. To Dean's relief, Bobby was beginning to accept the truth standing right in front of him.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you!" Dean snapped, letting some of his frustration out. It had been a rough week of travel on an irritable horse and no real answers about anything from anyone. He had tried calling Castiel a few more times, but no angel had shown up though for some much needed face time, not even so much as a damn feather. The handprint on his shoulder would burn from time to time but other than that, nothing.

"It's good to see you, boy, but how are you walking and talking? When he came back from that suicide run, Sam told us all that you were dead." Bobby seemed at a loss but at least he was putting away his weapon. Dean hesitantly did the same.

"I don't know. I woke up…" Dean started to say to be interrupted by a good measure of holy water being splashed into his face.

"I'm not a demon either you know." Dean sighed, turning his head to spit out blessed H2O. Tasted kind of stale in Dean's opinion.

"Sorry, can't be too careful." Bobby shrugged, putting away his flask, one of many. Too many in Dean's opinion. One of these days, a demon was going to get a face full of rotgut instead of holy water, but then again considering what Bobby drank on a regular basis, it might have the same effect. It was a running theory among some hunters that Bobby had discovered a ritual or spell to pickle himself.

"Well I could have told you that much, darling. It would appear that our once dearly departed dumbass has acquired himself an angel." said an accented voice that made Dean groan inwardly. How could he have forgotten? Wherever Bobby went Crowley was never too far behind him.

"What?" Bobby and Dean in unison but for far different reasons.

Dean recovered first to scowl at the crossroads demon. "Yeah, no shit. I was there."

"How the hell did you manage to pull that off? I thought you were still on heaven's hit list." Bobby snorted, giving Dean the once over. The hunter looked fine to him which was saying a lot considering it was a Winchester. Usually they showed up at his door a little bit more bloody, bruised, and mostly dead. It was a given that hunting was hard on a body but the Winchester always seemed to be ahead of the rest in that area, raising(or lowering depending on who was patching them up) the bar for it..

"Nope. Free and clean. No one's gunning for me except the usual monsters." Dean shrugged with a careless grin. It felt good to have that particular winged monkey off his back.

"I'll try to get a hold of Sam then. He was in Pontiac, Illinois last I heard." Bobby sighed. As happy as he was to see Dean, the old hunter knew what he had come here for. The Winchesters were nomadic lot, only checking in with the Roadhouse and him at the best of times.

"Last you heard? What the hell, Bobby?! You haven't been looking after him?! You know how he gets!" Dean growled, glaring at the older man. Whether he wanted to be or not, Bobby was the Winchester's boys rock, having spent more time with them than their own biological father. John had done his best but the loss of his wife had driven him to obsessive revenge, drink, and a special sort of madness that affected all others around him. The boys had stopped hunting with him years ago unable to take it anymore though they still accepted jobs from their wayward parent. Bobby had tried his best by giving Dean, Sam, and later, Adam safe refuge from it and a place to rest their heads when it all became too much. While Adam could be found at the Roadhouse offering his healing services to other hunters and helping the Harvelles out with the bar sometimes on busy nights, Sam and Dean rode together through thick and thin, for the most part living out of the Impala. Bobby doubted that any of the boys had laid eyes upon their father in years, John in the wind on an eternal hunt.

Out of the three, Sam took everything the hardest, his guilt streak miles long and it would seem ever growing. To some extent, he blamed himself for everything bad that had happened in their lives, even Mary's death though he had been a baby at the time. Being tainted with demon blood didn't help either or the fact whenever he used his powers, his eyes went black and void. The first time that it had happened, John had left the boys in Bobby's care for a couple of months without ever saying a word to them after almost shooting Sam in the face point blank. If Dean hadn't been there to physically put himself between them, Bobby was pretty sure John would have pulled the trigger.

So while Dean worked on cars and drank to forget, and Adam sulked but worked through his issues by mopping floor and slinging drinks, Sam would fall into deep depressions marked with bouts of insomnia that left him pale and shaking. Though he would never admit it, Sam needed the support of another and usually that support was Dean who believed whole heartedly that being his brother's keeper came before being his father's soldier any day.

"He hasn't been really talking to anyone since you died, son." Bobby said quietly though his words spoke volumes to Dean.

"Not even Dad?" Dean tested the waters of his family's situation.

"Stubborn fools." Bobby muttered more to himself than his company but continued. "John and Sam had a difference of opinion about the whole thing."

"Like what?" Dean asked, not liking the sound of this. The two had always butted heads but Dean couldn't figure out what there was to argue over about his death. It had been a job that had gone wrong. It happened in their world. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Sam said he did his best and John told him that he should have done better. Ended up calling Sam a monster. Three guess on how well that ended after that." Bobby sighed. "That's the long and short of it."

"Holy hell…" Dean felt like punching a wall. "Wait, just how long have I been gone?"

Given his current state and shitty mood, Dean had avoided other people like the plague and he hadn't felt like dealing with hassle of getting past the security measures of towns and villages.

"Four months." Bobby told him, reaching for a bottle of rotgut, from the looks of the homemade label. Anything and everything liquid was labeled in Bobby's house after an unfortunate incident of bad judgment calls while under the influence, some embalming fluid and a newt.

"Four months? What the hell?" Dean asked, needing some sort of explanation. It hadn't felt that long, not at all. One long night at the most.

"Damned if I know. We looked for you in Hell." Bobby snorted, pouring a glass for himself and Dean. He knew Crowley would turn his nose up at the offering so he didn't bother.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Dean said, welcomingly shooting back the amber liquid. Bobby's 'special' stock wasn't meant for sipping pleasure.

"Crowley, you got any input?" Bobby turned toward his demon who looked incredulously back at him for involving him in this conversation.

"Dean is an inept moron who should always wear a helmet and refrain from breeding." Crowley said smoothly, not missing a beat.

"That's a given." Bobby rolled his eyes to the sound of some indignant squawking from Dean. "Anything besides that?"

"Sounds to me like that our Dean spent time in limbo or a heavenly space of some sort for a while. Time moves differently there." Crowley shrugged like he couldn't be bothered.

"Are you trying to tell me I was with Cas for almost half a year and I didn't even know it?" Dean tried to wrap his melon around the concept considering they two of them had spent most of that warped time with him on his back and Castiel moving in and above Dean at a fervent pace.

"Cas? That's an unusual name for an angel." Crowley leered like he knew something he shouldn't. Dean wouldn't put it past him as the hunter grimaced. It was never a good idea to air out too much information around the demon. Bonded or not to Bobby, Dean still didn't trust him. That and that was a whole lot of bonding to think about. Apparently death had immensely improved his stamina.

"Do we even want to know what you're grinning like a loon about?" Crowley said dryly, arching a brow at Dean.

"What? Shut up!" Dean snapped, valiantly pulling his mind out of the gutter and intimate remembrances of his angel. The last thing he wanted to do was pop a boner in front of Crowley. The demon would never let him live it down. Glaring at Crowley who was smirking like he had just stolen the last piece of Dean's pie, the hunter turned his focus back to Bobby.

"Let's go find my brother."

oOo

"Dean?"

Sighing, Dean dodged Sam's attack out of habit. It was like his very own personal greeting now from the other hunters. His name as a question and then some attempted ganking. Luckily for him, Dean had someone to help intervene and smooth out frayed edges for him. He was really getting tired of repeating himself all the time.

"It's him, Sam! I swear it's Dean!" Bobby yelled, coming between the brothers to hold back Sam so that Dean wouldn't have to swing on him, something he was very grateful to the older hunter for. Dean didn't mind the next part of his new greeting though as he was suddenly engulfed by his younger brother, Sam ridiculously larger body wrapping around him. Being hugged was nice and one he didn't seem to mind at all. He'd never been embraced so much or so often in his life before. It almost made dying worth all the hassle.

"Dean…..How?" Sam rasped out, squeezing them both so tight so was impeding his own breathing. Dean smacked his brother's back to signal that he was not only still alive, but he would like to remain that way, Sam reluctantly letting him go. Dean hated how pained Sam sounded, like hope was shards of glass tearing up his throat.

"Angel mojo." Dean made himself grin, pulling up his sleeve to show off the handprint. It was all white now and stood out starkly against his tan skin.

"You finally got your angel." Sam smiled back, the expression weary and relieved but real. He looked terrible, swaying in place with deep marks under his eyes. Dean wondered when was the last time Sam had slept.

"Don't get too excited. The angel is still a no show." Bobby grumbled, helping himself to some of Sam's booze of which there was plenty laying around. From the looks of the rented room, Sam was trying the Winchester's tried and true method of drinking to forget. Despairing, Crowley clucked his tongue at all the cheap labels. The demon was ignored as the hunters toasted Dean's return to life with bourbon that was more fit to strip paint than drink. And that was the third part of his new greeting that Dean liked as well. Free booze.

"So….have you tried calling it?" Sam asked after a moment of quiet that for once was not ominous or tense.

"Now why didn't I think of that?" Dean snarked back good naturedly, feeling so right about it. "Of course, I did. I may be pretty but I'm not stupid. The guy's doing angel stuff, I guess."

"Why don't you give it a shot? I'd like to meet him." Sam said. "Call him."

"He's not a dog that ran off, Sam. It's an angel and he's got better things to do." Dean pointed out, trying not to feel like he was making excuses. Of course, he would get the angel that didn't give two craps about him, not that he could blame Castiel. Righteous man or not, Dean still didn't have a clue why the angel had offered to bond at his own free will with him. "Anyway, I don't need a constant babysitter."

"Hey! I happen to resemble that remark." Bobby retorted while Crowley didn't bother to hide his amusement.

"Truer words were never spoken." Crowley drawled, not clarify which part of course. "Busy or not, your angel should at least make an appearance. That is unless your bond is defective or non-existent."

"Fine!" Dean snapped, seeing red along the edges of his vision. He took a seat cause hell if he was going to make a spectacle of himself and kneel.

"Um…..Cas?" Dean questioned air to unsurprisingly no answer.

"You could try praying, idjit." Bobby pointed out dryly.

"I am!" Dean snapped.

"Try being more, I dunno, devout about it." Sam suggested, biting his lip trying not to chuckle.

"Dear Castiel….." Dean tried again.

"Are you writing him a letter?" Crowley smirked, watching and loving every minute of it how frazzled Dean was getting over this.

"Shut up. Let me do it my way." Dean growled.

"Because that's been working out so well for you so." Crowley smiled all snake oil and malice at him.

"Our father who art in heaven…" Dean went with a classic but trailed off when Bobby groaned out loud, Sam left the room because lack of sleep was giving him a bad case of the giggles, and Crowley looked like he was having the time of his life.

"Now that is just pathetic." the demon chuckled, making Dean shoot up out of his seat, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Castiel! Get your feathery ass down here!" Dean yelled at the ceiling, the space ringing from the volume of his demand. Sam rejoined them, the hunter and demon looking around to merely note their own company. Feeling miserable and trying not to show it, Dean sighed, letting his shoulders slump in defeat.

"Hello Dean." were the two gravelly spoken words that made the humans jump in unison at the angel's sudden appearance, Crowley quietly using the moment to put the hunters between himself and the angel. One could never be too careful after all and he wasn't above making the Winchesters and Bobby a shield. Not that would stop an intent angel but even as a demon, Crowley remained ever the optimist.

"What the hell? That worked!" Dean shouted at the angel, miffed. "Where the hell have you been? I've been calling for you for over a week!"

"I know." Castiel said simply with a nod, making Dean pause mid-rant to give the angel a look, evaluating him.

"Why didn't you answer?" Dean managed out when he remembered how to use words.

"There was no reason to. You were never in any peril." Castiel said, studying Dean with a bland expression that set the hunter's teeth on edge.

"You didn't think I might have wanted some answers?" Dean growled, his jaw clenched with mounting frustration.

"Answers to what?" the angel blinked in open confusion, startling into movement as the handprint flared up, feeling hot as it reminded Dean that they were indeed connected in some way.

Try as he might, Dean couldn't keep his growing ire down. It had been festering inside of him for a while now. "Like why the hell did I wake in a coffin buried six feet under?!"

"It was the safest place to repair and revive your body. It was sheltered from the elements, most bug activity, and human interference." Castiel explained like it was the most obvious answer in the world.

"What the hell?! You don't leave a guy to wake up in his own pine box!" Dean yelled, glaring at the angel who titled his head to the side in question.

"Why?" Castiel asked, unclenches head to the side just a touch. The room stared at him openly, suddenly at a loss for words at the innocently spoken question. Dean licked his lips, feeling exhausted as all his anger left him at once. It was easy to forget that Castiel was not human when he wore a vessel, that his concept and motivations would be so removed from their own. For all intents and purposes, a container buried in earth to protect his body as it was being repaired would seem the most logical place to leave it.

"Because you just don't, ok? It's not cool, no matter how practical. Don't ever do that again…to anyone." Dean told the angel who solemnly nodded like his words were God's own. He pulled up his shirt sleeve to reveal his latest body art. "You mind explaining this to me?"

"It is proof of our profound bond." Castiel said without hesitation to received a round of poorly muffled snickering from the others in the room and wide eyes from Dean.

"Profound bond? Is that what they are calling it these days?" Crowley drawled with a smirk.

"Yes." Castiel confirmed though his eyes narrowed at the demon.

"So let me get this straight. You tag my ass, dump me in a cofin, and then don't bother to contact me or answer me call, and you think that's fine?" Dean waded quickly back into the conversation to distract Castiel. He didn't want Bobby pissed at him for his angel smiting the demon even if Crowley was an asshat.

"Yes?" Castiel head tilted again, breaking Dean's heart and will just a little bit.

"I give up. Who's hungry?" Dean threw his hands up into the air, moving toward the door to leave. He nearly ran into the angel that appear right in front of him, blocking his escape.

"You are angry with me." If Dean had to hazard a guess about Castiel's non-expression, he would have to say that the angel looked miffed.

"Me? Angry? No." Dean mocked, laying his hand over his heart before dropping the wounded act. "I'm pissed as shit at you. Big difference. Why don't you go wing off now or something? You're good at that."

"I don't understand." Castiel fumbled, obviously lost but holding his position which was way too close in Dean's personal space.

"Dean….." Sam said softly, feeling for the angel who was obviously not following this line of thought well. At the moment, Castiel looked more like a kicked puppy than a cosmic celestial being. At his brother's utterance, Dean made himself look at the angel, running his hands over his face in self defense while feeling incredibly tired about it all.

"Guys, can you give us a minute." Dean said, more statement than request. Taking it to heart, Bobby and Crowley left without saying anything though the demon was smirking, Sam following closely behind them with a slight yet strange smile on his face. The door closing shut with a click was far louder than it should have been, a ring of metal that hung in the air between bonded angel and man.

"Can you tell me what you want from me? Perhaps it would help me to understand you…your needs." Castiel offered hesitantly like Dean was the confusing one here.

"I don't want anything from you." Dean snapped the model of healthy communication to find himself nose to nose with an angel and not in a good way if that icy glare was anything to go by.

"You should show me some respect." Castiel said in a low, penetrating voice. Dean found it strangely arousing. Not for the first time, he wondered how screwed up he was in the head.

"So this bond….." Dean said slowly. "…I guessing I'm not going to get a fluffy angel to sit on my shoulder."

"I'm a warrior. Read the Bible." Castiel glowered, continuing to invade his personal space, their chests almost touching.

"Thanks but I try to avoid. You want to back up there, huggy bear? I like my breathing room." Dean muttered, moving back away from the angel. To his distress, Castiel moved with him, following the hunter all the way until Dean's back hit the wall. Dean focused on breathing long, calm breaths when he realized that he was trapped, more or less between a wall and an immoveable angel who looked like he was still considering smiting as a viable option.

Oddly enough, Castiel pressed two fingers up against Dean's forehead, the touch light and that was the last thing Dean felt before he was yanked back into his own mind. There, he saw himself or at least versions of his younger self moving in and out of the void all around him.

"What are you doing to me?" Dean called out. He startled when he noticed Castiel standing right beside him, the look on his face focused elsewhere.

"I am attempting to understand you better by finding answers." Castiel said, looking far more calm than he was before.

"By cracking open my melon?!" Dean realized, whipping around on the angel. "Get out of my head!"

"I have already tried inquiring but you have refused to give me an explanation. All that there is left is this." Castiel informed him.

"THIS happens to be mine! Get out!" Dean fumed, trying not to pay attention to what was going on around him. Most of his childhood were not good or worth living over again.

"Correction. This is ours. We are bonded. When you feel physical and mental pain or anguish, I feel it as well." Castiel mused, still actively shifting through what Dean could only assume were his memories. "You experience pain often. I do not like it."

"Then ask me! What do you want to know so badly?!" Dean yelled, the sound so muffled by his own inner head space it was disconcerting.

"Why an angel?" was the question that brought Dean up short and made him grow quiet. "From what I understand, demons are far easier to acquire so why bother with all the dangers of bonding with an angel?"

Dean answered when he couldn't aloud, the damnable memory playing out behind him in vivid pristine color. It was one of his better ones so he recognized it instantly.

From time to time, Jo would stay with Bobby which meant from time to time the Winchester boys would be there as well. Along with the little girl came her angel, Anuel or Anna for short. Though she had grown up tough, Jo at once point in time been a little girl who had been very afraid of thunderstorms, a common occurrence in South Dakota. Sam was too, so while Jo had her angel, he had Dean to watch over him as he slept.

The two of them had stayed up countless night together lulling their charges back into slumber to the low rumbling of thunder and the erratic light show of lightening. Dean would hum songs from a long gone era, even the one that his mom used to sing to him while he was sick. Anna was probably the only angel in existence that knew every word to 'Hey Jude' and 'Carry On Wayward Son'. Returning the favor, the red headed angel would as well but Dean liked his better. At least they were in English. Sometimes Anna and Dean would talk in whispers, sometimes to the sleeping and other times to each other. No one could whisper promises like an angel, soothing words of 'I love you always' and 'I will never leave you'.

Even though they were not meant for him, Dean took them to heart, desire turned to seeds that rooted deep in his young heart. From that point on, he wanted an angel of his own, that kind of faithful, effortless love, the kind that would always find him and never leave his side.

Reality was a bitch though. This was the real world, broken and ruined, and really what had he expected from life. Nice things like love were for other people. Dean knew he was being ridiculous, that dreams were vapor, the likes of which were never meant to come true.

When Castiel drew away from him, Dean knew he had experienced as this well, knew the desire of a lonely little boy who was left to sit up in the wicked dark to look after his younger brother because that was what was expected of him. Had glimpsed at a dream that the hunter had sought after even though he stopped believing in it, taking a chance when an opportunity had presented itself in the form of Jimmy Novak. Fresh shame, hot and searing, mingled with old, the self loathing making Dean want to curl in on himself, burning away the remnants of memories that swirled all around them until there was nothing but dead space. He had been selfish, had cost a man his existence, and yet had still gotten his angel.

"Are you happy now? You got your answers." Dean rasped low and sharp, swallowing so hard his throat clicked, it was so dry and razor filled with emotion. "Now get out of my head and go back to whatever you were doing."

"I have hurt you." Castiel said point blank the only way he could.

"Me? Nah." Dean snorted, shaking his head as he faked a smile. He made the mistake of looking over at the angel who was still way too close to him here in the dark.

"We are connected now, you and I for the better part of eternity." Castiel pointed out. "There is a sadness deep within you and an aching loneliness."

"I don't know what you are talking about." Dean muttered, turning away to find himself in exactly the same position, face to face with Castiel.

"I hurts me as well, this void inside of you." the angel whispered, the soft sounds of it echoing here.

"Sounds like a personal problem….." Dean tried to make light of it to have soft lips pressed to his own. The hunter jerked away. "What?! Stop!"

"Do you not like it?" Castiel was still on him, pressed up to him so that the lines of their body were flush and Dean couldn't tell where he ended and Castiel began.

"No, yes, it doesn't matter. What are you doing?" Dean word vomited.

"I am trying to show you affection." Castiel said, doing that damn head tilt thing again.

"Just…..just don't." Dean murmured, bowing his head until it met the solidness of Castiel's shoulder. If he wouldn't be allowed to leave, he refused to look on in the face of torment.

"Is that not how it is done? You must forgive me. My people skills are rusty but I am learning." Castiel said softly in Dean's eye, his lips too close to the shell of it for Dean's comfort. He shivered whenever the angel remembered to fake breathing.

"Yeah, well. Learn quicker and hands off of the goods." Dean sighed, his hands finally finding their way to Castiel's shoulders to push the angel back or at least try to. Castiel could have been made of stone.

"Please….I don't want to feel your pain anymore." Castiel pleaded softly, making guilt worm its way up beside all the other crap in Dean's head. "Stop, stop. Please stop. I want you to experience happiness, like when we were together. Please…"

"I don't know how." Dean told the angel honestly, shaking his head as he stared into those aching beautiful blue eyes. He had walked a lonely road for so long, he didn't know what to do with the company that kept with him now. No one else cared about crap like that so why should he?

Expect, now someone did and was begging him for help, for him to help him by helping himself, and Dean had no idea how to. He placed his forehead against the angel's own just so that he could admire those azure eyes that saw him, glistening and clearer than any morning in June. Something settled inside of him, a realization and a remembrance of something the angel said earlier, making Dean press a part of himself forward, tendrilling, searching for whatever and wherever he was connected to Castiel.

Now that he let himself see it, their bond was right there, bright and shimmering like a cord of intangible silver braided from starlight, spider's silk, and mist. Something fragile and impossible, something beautiful and sanctified, something that Dean was positive he didn't deserve but grabbed hold of with both hand without hesitation anyway, whether they were real or not, and clung tight.

In answer, Castiel sang in surprise as they were both pitched forward out of Dean's mind and into the angel's head space. At least it sounded like singing to Dean which was surprising. To human hearing, angel voices tended to ring unintelligibly shrill and Enochian a deafening garble of blocky words. Castiel's voice sounded like the hum of the Impala's engine, the thrum of honey bees' wings, and bass beat of his favorite song now to Dean.

The pair landed in the garden from before, kite flyer hanging out though this time Dean was happy to see that he was still wearing his torn jeans and vintage band t-shirt but was lacking his boots for some reason. He wiggled his toes in the soft grass and appreciated the clean air for a moment before turning back to the angel, Castiel looking dazed and confused for some reason, like he hadn't expected to be there.

"How did you do this?" Castiel asked, wide eyed and looking remarkably scared for an angel.

"You said that my head space was yours too, that we had time shares so I figured that meant I had a lease on your place as well." Dean mused, not knowing what to do for Castiel to put him at ease in his own head. He didn't do comfort, all that touchy feely crap.

"This should not have been possible." Castiel said firmly, like stating that sort of thing would change anything.

"That's me all around. Defying odds, breaking rules, and shaking things up." Dean said, shoving his hands into his pockets and balancing back on his heels. There was a pond nearby. He wondered if there were any fish in it or if he could have his angel imagine some up for him. Fishing sounded safe right now.

Which might be why he was seated out on a dock with a fishing pole in hand, overlooking a pristine lake colored gold and red in an eternal sunset. "Where the hell are we?" Dean asked, looking up to see Castiel standing beside him.

"In between you and me." Castiel replied, looking out onto the water with a serene expression. Dean would take that look of neutrality over fear any day of the week, the hunter settling into his chair more comfortably. He checked the line on the pole and upon finding it secure, forgetting about it completely.

"Yeah, that makes total sense." Dean sighed in contentment for once. The lake was lovely and the weather was perfect, not too hot and not too cold. He didn't even care if he caught anything. Dean just leaned back and enjoyed a moment of peace for once. The rustle of feathers was soft and soothing. The wings' shadows felt cool against Dean's skin but in a nice way, like tenderness so rarely experienced or so freely given.

"That feels nice." Castiel murmured. Even though he didn't know what the angel was referring to, Dean couldn't have agreed more.