Story: We will always end up here.

Summary: Post-season 8. Cas, now whitout his Grace, went in search for Dean's help. Dean doesn't know how to help him nor how to avoid him turning into 2014!Cas and at the same time he must face the feelings that he can't hide anymore. But of course, domestic life in the Bunker isn't enough and his brother comes with a hunt. Cas' first haunt will force them to face each other. And at the end, the former angel will have to make a decision.

Warnings: For this chapter none. Future chapters: Smut :) And for the whole story, if I did well, lots of feels!

A/N: So this is a three arc 20k story. Arc 1 aka Chapter 1 aka Introduction aka what happened right after the end of 'Sacrifice'. Arc 2, Chapter 2 and 3, that is the hunt. And Arc 3, that was meant to be just an epilogue but it ended up with a plot. The story was meant to be just Domestic!Destiel, but suddenly I had a plot and a hunt and I just couldn't stop writing. I started with no path, after the finale that I watched the very next morning for wifi problems, I needed to write so that night I started. Now the story is complete and the other three chapters just need to go under correction. I have no Beta, so it's just me. English is not my native language, but I did study it for more than 12 years so... Just keep it in mind. When I started writing this I meant to explore Cas' humanity, and I had one set in mind: FEELS. I also wanted to make a Destiel fanfic where Sam was more than just the third wheel, I mean, he is in a way, but I wanted to include him. To make a Destiel fanfic that had the whole Team Free Will on it. And I think I managed it. I think being keyword here.

Chapter 2 won't take long to upload.

And I write this on my cell phone, twenty thousands words written with just my cell phone, so give me some credit.

Enjoy.

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We will always end up here

Chapter 1

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It had been two days since he had fallen. His face was covered in little cuts that, still red, were slowing healing. He had got them in the wildness, when he had walked for hours till he reached a lonesome road. A gentle soul had taken pity on him and had carried him part of the way. In the passenger seat of the truck he had fallen asleep for the first time.

His dreams had been pledged with fire falling from the sky, the screams of his brothers and sisters piercing his skull. And fear, and impotence, and doubts and sadness. A sadness so great that hadn't let him take the much needed oxygen into his lungs.

It had been weird going to the toilet room for the first time in his now full human body. He had went once before, not even an angel can drink a liquor store or eat that many burgers without his vessel acquiring certain necessities. But even then, Dean and Sam had been there to tell him what was that burning sensation in his groin or that pressure in his butt. And even then, they hadn't been his necessities, they had been his vessel's.

Having hunger had been something terrifying. Before the Apocalypse ended when he had lost his mojo his hunger had been different. Bobby and the boys had insisted on him eating, so he hadn't got to know that tearing feeling in his stomach. The truck driver had been kind enough of sharing his meal with him before departing. Castiel hadn't known why the man had been so nice to him. If he had maintained his Grace he may had known that it was because he remained him of that autistic brother that the truck driver had lost long ago, when he was young and hadn't had time to lose on his loony brother till it was too late.

The man had given Cas a few bucks to get him by, but he had had no use for them. He knew the address and once he had orientated himself he had just walked. He had walked the whole night. A few times he had felt lost and had wanted to look up at the sky to locate himself. But he couldn't look at the sky just yet, it was too painful.

He had ignored all the needs of his body, and just walked. The sun was rising when he arrived at the door of the Bunker. With a hand, white from the cold, he knocked and stood there, arms just hanging at his side, his eyes looking at the door as if he was trying to see through it the movements of its inhabitants. When none came he started to get anxious. The thoughts and feelings that he had managed to hold on check were threatening to pour out of him. He knocked again, at bit harder this time, a bit more desperate.

Finally, after what seemed ages, Dean opened the door.

"Cas..." he whispered when he saw the shattered figure of the man in front of him.

Blue eyes pierced him through a veil of tears that hanged in the balance.

And the sight of the man whose image had been guiding him since he lost his Grace proved to much to him and he fell to his knees.

"Cas!" shouted Dean and rushed to kneel in front of him and grabbed him by his shoulders. "Cas, Cas."

The former angel wept into the other man's shoulders. He clench to Dean's arms and cried for the first time in his milennia of existence. Not just lonely tears that would cover his eyes and make them shine and never fall, but actual crying. Maybe it was because he was now human and his emotions ran more freely, maybe it was because he just lost his Grace and the hollow ached to much, maybe it was because he had seen his entire family fell. Maybe it didn't matter and he was just scared and sad.

Distancing himself enough as to look into the other man's eyes, he spoke between sobs, "He stole it, Dean," he cried, "He stole it and made them fall."

Dean understood perfectly. He needed no clarification, he hugged his angel harder -Grace or not Grace, Cas was still his angel- and swore to himself to kill that son of a bitch at the first chance he got. Dean had few people that he loved, and most of them were dead already. It was dangerous business damaging those few that were still alive, crossing a Winchester always was.

But he voiced none of his thoughts to the fallen angel in his arms.

"Come on, let's get you inside. It's cold in here," he said.

An arm around his waist, the other hand from Dean holding both of his own hands, Cas let himself be carried to the bunker. Dean made him sit at the table, he covered him with a blanket and prepared him some hot chocolate. Maybe Dean couldn't cure that cold hollow that was left where the angel's Grace had resided, not for now anyway, but he could at least take care of his human body.

"Hey," greeted Sam, his voice still groggy from sleep, not noticing that his brother was not alone, "Cas!" he exclaimed surprised once he noticed the state in which the fallen angel was. So weak, so broken, so human.

Sam was still debilitated, the effects from the trials were slowly leaving him. But not even that would change his concern for his friend.

"Cas, you okay?" he asked running to his side and resting a hand on his shoulder, he spared one desperate look at his brother whose face was blank, hiding all the emotions that threatened to break him in the inside.

"No," was the former angel's honest answer.

"What happened?" asked Sam, he knew about the fallen angels, but he just wanted to know what had happened to his friend.

Before Cas could answer Dean left the cup of hot chocolate on the tablet in front of the angel. He didn't look at him or his brother while he did it, he didn't think he could manage it. He even doubted that he wanted to hear what Cas had to said. He was helpless in this situation, helpless about Cas, helpless about Sam. But he couldn't break, not now. Stepping back a bit, he leaned against the table to listen what his best friend had to say.

"I went to Heaven and found that Naomi had been neutralized. Metraton reduced me and pinned me to the chair and..." his impassive voice broke, but he forced himself to continue, "he sliced my throat and stole my Grace," he completed, tears lingering in his eyes once more, "It was all part of a spell. Then I woke up in the ground and saw every single one of my brothers and sisters fell."

Even Sam, the man who had a facility to voice out his feelings, had trouble speaking.

"Cas, I- I'm- I'm sorry," he said.

Dean cleared his throat, and continued as if his eyes weren't full of silent tears, "Drink, you'll feel better."

"I doubt it," answered Cas, but drank anyway.

"We should take you to a room, so you can get a shower and some sleep," said Dean, who wanted to extract himself from the awkward situation. He was never good at expressing his feelings, less alone to a public of two. If any sort of conversation or emotional reassurance was to happen between him and Cas he needed to be alone with him.

His brother took the silent cue and left, but not without patting Cas on the shoulder and saying, "We'll be there for you, Cas."

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Dean guided Cas to the shower room and then left him to grab some of his clothes from his room. He was searching for appropriate clothes to borrow to his angel when the reality of everything started to sink in. The two persons that he cared about most in this God's forsaken world were broken. And he was helpless. He couldn't make Sam's health better and he couldn't restore Cas' Grace. His knuckles were white from clutching to the edges of the drawer.

When his feelings became too overwhelming, he knocked off the bedside lamp with one swift angry movement. The lamp fell to the floor, the bulb crashed and the light went out. Dean looked at the broken pieces and sighed. He'd have to fix it now.

With a pair of boxers and a T-shirt he left his room and went to find Cas.

"Cas, here I brought you some clothes," he said entering the shower room.

The fallen angel stepped out of the shower with a towel hanging around his waist. His bare chest still a bit wet shone like a sight for sore eyes. Dean gulped hard, this was something he had seen hundreds of time in his fantasies. The fantasies that he would do anything to not have. Not because Cas was in a male vessel, his own bisexuality had nothing to do with it. He had acknowledged that he liked men a long time ago. But there's not only a big difference between acknowledging and accepting, but he knew that what he felt wasn't just attraction to Jimmy's body -now Cas'- but to Cas himself.

And accepting those feelings... They were so strong that they scared him, they were better of locked under a cage. Still, he couldn't help but to a least acknowledge his feelings. Acknowledging but not accepting.

Even though, Cas' chest was as beautiful as he could ever imagine, this wasn't as one of his fantasies. In his fantasies Cas' eyes were dilated with lust, his gaze was penetrating as always and the passion that was so characteristic of the angel was there. That passion that burnt like a slow flame, all consuming but secure and patient. But right now, Cas' eyes were dull, and cold. They kept that penetrating feature, but it was not the same.

Their eyes locked together, searching the other's soul to feel reassurance. Neither of them spoke till they didn't found but they were looking for in the other.

"Here," said Dean handing him the clothes.

"Thank you, Dean," he said in his usual tone.

Cas grabbed his clothes and started to dress right there -luckily for Dean he started with the T-shirt. Dean was uncomfortable, for a few seconds he didn't know what to do, if to freak out and ask him to just hold his horses for a second, if to leave or if just turn around while Cas' finished. He ended up just deciding for the later.

The lack of sound indicated him that Cas was done dressing himself. Turning around he saw the former angel wearing his clothes. A black T-shirt with some worn out Led Zeppelin stamp and some dark brown boxers. The picture was just wrong. Not because Cas' was wearing his clothes and his underwear. Many of his fantasies did include that. But because it made him look so human.

Cas knew what the other was thinking because it was what he was thinking too. It was the lack of his power to do the most little things that remained him how useless he felt. Last time he lost his powers, it had been gradually, he had had time to get used to it. And he had been angry. But he had his Grace. Now he had let it been stolen from him, and in doing so, he made his whole family burn.

Castiel yawned.

"Come on, let's get you to bed," said Dean resting a hand in his shoulder to guide him, "Wait, here, take this," and he handed him one of the robes from the Men of Letters.

"What's the use of this piece of clothing?" asked Cas inspecting the cloth in his hands, head slightly tilt to a side.

Dean smiled genuinely at the common gesture from the angel.

"It's just so you don't go around the place in your underwear," explained the hunter, "It is, you know, a human tradition," he said casually.

"Oh," exclaimed Cas, he face frowned after the mention of the word 'human'.

Dean realized late what he said.

"I'll show you your room," he started saying, "you can even decorate... if you want..." his voice trailed off, if you want to stay, would have been the right end to the phrase. But he didn't want to say it, he feared the answer. He didn't want to think of the possibility of Cas staying. He didn't want to get his hopes up, to think that his angel was finally going to stay just so he could leave him once more. Because he didn't want to think that as long as Cas needed him, the fallen angel would stay with him but that as soon as he didn't need Dean anymore or as soon as he found another 'right' thing to do, he would leave. It wasn't the moment to have those thoughts.

Once they arrived at the room, Dean turned on the lights. The bedroom was like his, the same white walls and the bed in the middle.

"There," he said, "make yourself comfortable," he motioned at the bed.

"Thank you, Dean," said Cas passing past him and going to the bed where he sat staring with his eyes fix in front of him.

It wasn't that the angel didn't know hot to get to sleep, he wasn't ready for it just yet. The simple action of 'going to sleep' was all to human, too vulnerable. Dean understood that, and he sat beside him.

"What is it, Cas? Talk to me," he said to the angel for the second time in less than four days.

"I'm human," he said as if that covered enough, but looking into Dean's eyes he knew it wasn't enough, "And I- I- This is all my fault, Dean. I should have listened to you."

"Cas—"

Dean didn't knew what to say, because it was true. Cas should have listened to him. He should have listened to him and trusted him, before continuing with the 'Heaven Trials'. He should have done it too, when he asked him not to open the gates of Purgatory. But once again, this was not the moment for this thoughts. So all he did was put a hand on the other's man shoulder and wait for the other to continue speaking.

"I'm scared, Dean. And I feel..." his voice dropped looking for the right words, "lost," he finished, "There are no words to describe what it was stolen from me. It was so holy and bright. And now everything seems so dull in comparison. It feels small, Dean, to be confined within this body," he finished looking at what once was Jimmy's body with a subtle gesture of disgust.

The gesture was small and barely notable, but Dean knew his angel well. Suddenly, the hunter was pissed. He didn't know if it was for all those feelings of betrayal that he kept pushing for later, or because he felt insulted as a human. He didn't know. He just had to get out of there.

"You should rest," he said and got up as fast as he could while trying not to seem so hastily about it.

Cas nodded and with slow movements plucked himself under the sheets.

"Goodbye, Dean," he said before the other got to pass the door.

"Goodbye, Cas," answered the hunter a bit taken aback.

He turned off the lights and left.

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When Cas woke up it was midday. The smell of food made his stomach growl. He checked his garments to see if he was dressed accordingly to human standards. Normally, he didn't pay attention to such things. He either wasn't aware or found them to insignificant to care. But now that he was a human he felt the need to care. And he didn't want to piss Dean off, he had felt the distressed way in which he had departed early and he didn't want to make things worse. Since losing his Grace, Dean had been the one thing that kept him going. Sam was a soothing thing in his life, his friendship was something that he cherished. But he needed Dean. And if he ever turned his back on him... Well, he didn't like the paths that that could lead to.

"Hey, Cas!" welcomed him Sam once he saw him enter the main area, he tried to be cheerful even when he felt like crap and the whole situation was crap.

The last days had been awful, and trying to finish the last trial had made enough angst happen. So he would try to be optimistic for his brother and his fallen friend. And damn him, if he couldn't be, he could well at least pretend it.

"Hello, Sam," greeted him Cas, "Hello, Dean."

"You arrived just in time for lunch," said Dean while he entered carrying a plate with several of his tasty burgers that Sam had grown to love.

"Isn't it customary to have breakfast after one wakes up?" asked Cas, head tilted at a side.

"Yeah, it is," laughed Sam, "but no when you wake up at midday."

"I apologize," was Cas answer.

"Free will, dude," said Dean while he sat at the table and motioned Cas to do the same, "that's the good thing about free will. You can wake up whenever the hell you want. No need to apologize."

Once Cas was sited, he sniffed the burger and then proceeded to eat it as if being pushed by Famine. Dean and Sam watched him eat with certain disbelief and surprise. When Cas finished Sam spoke.

"Wow! You were hungry, weren't you?"

"Well, I decided that if I'm going to be human, I might as well enjoy the perks that it entitles as much as I can," answered Cas, but there was no joy in his voice, only defeat.

Dean pushed away his plate, he had barely given one bite to his burger but he wasn't hungry anymore.

"Is there more?" asked Cas.

Dean gave him his burger and stormed out of the main area, into the hallway that lead to the bedrooms.

"Eat, Cas. I'll be back in a second," Sam excused himself and followed his brother into the hallway.

"What's the matter with you?" he confronted him once he had him face to face, "Why did you storm off like that?"

"Sam," Dean said in a warning tone, "I'm not in the mood to have this conversation."

"Well, and Cas is definitely not in the mood for your... mood swings," Sam spatted him trying not to raise the volume that much so Cas wouldn't hear them.

Dean gave him a dangerous glare.

"What's the matter with you? Please, Dean, trust me," he begged him.

And in the light of the recent events, the words softened Dean a bit.

"You want to know? You want to know?" he questioned his brother while he looked for the words that had a hard time coming into his mouth, "I already saw him like this. Remember when Zachariah took me to that future? This was how Cas was, taking delight in 'human pleasures'. And if he already started with food then tomorrow is going to be drugs and orgies and..." Dean emited a sad chuckle, "It seems that you- that Lucifer was right. It doesn't matter how many details I change, we always end up in the same place."

"Come on, it was just some food, it doesn't mean that he will end like that other Cas," argued Sam.

"It isn't the food, Sam, it's his eyes," he said almost desperate, struggling to not raise his voice too high, "His- his- his spark is gone and he just seem so broken. It's my fault, my fault, Sam, no matter what I do, Cas ends this way."

"Listen to me, Dean," said Sam with a firm voice, "None of this was your fault."

But trust Dean Winchester to find his share of guilt when he has none.

Sam's bloody cough chose that precise moment to appear again.

"See," said Dean grabbing the hand his brother used to cover himself and showing right into his face the blood that he tried to hide, "this should have been me. I break everyone I care about."

"No, Dean, you don't. First, I'm getting better, so stop blaming yourself. Second, it's only been two days and what happened to Cas was huge. So if he's going to overcome this he needs you. He needs to know that being human it's okay and that he's not useless. So suck it up," he finished with a last angry stare at his brother.

"Wow, it's nice to see that you finally grew up into big men's pants, baby brother," Dean said with a cocky smile.

Sam knew that that was his brother way of saying thank you for the advice. He wanted to say thank you to Dean for trusting him, instead he just said:

"Jerk," a genuine smile playing in his lips.

"Bitch."

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"So what do humans do to, as you say it, 'kill time'?" asked Cas still wearing the robe that Dean had given to him.

The fallen angel was standing in the middle of the main area, looking lost. Sam was at the table, studying and organizing the files of the Men of Letters. Dean was at the other table, the projector on, about to enjoy the second season of Dr. Sexy that he had bought not that long ago.

"Well, you can do as nerd-bro there, and read a book or something like that. Or watch TV like me, or do whatever the hell you want that makes you happy," explained to him Dean.

Cas stared at the hunter for a few seconds, and then spoke in his forever passive voice:

"It would make me happy to watch TV with you."

"Oh, all right," exclaimed Dean trying not to seem suddenly embarrassed and to ignore the faint blush that was crepting into his cheeks, "Sit here," he said moving the chair next to him.

Sam tried to hide the small smirk that was forming in his lips.

They spent the rest of the evening watching Dr. Sexy, Dean knew the episodes by heart so he had no problem explaining Cas the plot whenever he got lost -something that happened rather often. He couldn't lie, he was enjoying the chance of doing this, just hanging out with Cas and being able to have him close. Which made him feel guilty because it was at the cost of Cas' Grace and obvious suffering that could be easily seen in his eyes. Again, he was lucky that he knew that much the episodes by heart, because most of the time, he stared at Cas' profile.

He admired what a great powerful being he had been, all that he had done for him, all that he had given up for him and what he had become now. He contemplated their history, all the joys and sorrows shared, the moments of extreme loyalty and deep betrayal. He watched the silhouette of those blue eyes and found a sadness as big as the sea. He searched for joy but he found none and his heart contracted in a fist affected by a sharp pain. All there was was sorrow, and guilt and pain.

By dinner time, Dean got up and prepared spaghetti with tomato sauce. He refused any help and insisted on Cas to continue watching the show arguing that he needed to catch up with the pop culture references. Sam complained about getting tired of watching Dr. Sexy, but when the food came he considered himself fully compensated for the suffering and ate in silence.

When it was late Dean decided that the marathon was over and started clearing the table. Cas wanted to help, but when he was getting up with his empty plate, he accidentally hit his glass and broke it. A piece of glass made a red gash in his right hand.

Dean almost dropped everything that he had in his hand and ran to his angel side.

"Here, let me see," his voice sightly more higher than usual.

"It's nothing," complained Cas, trying to remove his hand from Dean's, "just a small cut."

"You don't know it, you're not used to it," chastised him the hunter, finally succeeding in looking at the gash in the fallen angel's hands.

"Is it big?" asked Sam when he came back with the first aid emergency kit.

"No," answered Dean relief washing over his face, "it's more blood than anything. There's no rest of glasses so some alcohol and bandage should do it."

"I told you so," said Cas in his usual calm voice, "The human body: what a fragile thing it is," he commented with a new tone of dry humor.

Dean's heart stopped beating for a second. At the sound of his best friend voice he raised his eyes from the other's hand, scared of what he may found it. And he did found it. The same resentment of life that that dreadful future version of him had, had started to pool in the blue gaze.

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A/N: First I hope you caught the small methaphor that I put on it. Second and most important I hope you enjoyed it, and that you want to read the next chapter.