Hey, guys! It's been quite a while, huh? I'm soooo sorry for that, it's been crazy in my life (in a good way) so I didn't have a chance to update the chapters. I've had time now, though, and... here's a new chapter! There's one tiny problem, though, meaning that I don't have a beta for the chapter. I still wanted to give you another chapter so I decided to take the risk. Hope you like it even if there's gonna be some little grammar mistakes :) Let me know what you think and enjoy!

- Dean -

Another motel. Another ordinary building in the middle of an average place. The room was neither luxurious nor cheap, big or too small. It was… placatingly normal. Not standing out and not playing on something it was never supposed to be. Modest and breathing. The three daisies on the bedside table were bright yellow; a gift to make the new occupants of the room feel welcome.

There were also the unoriginal green striped wallpapers, last to catch Dean's attention. Them and the flowery pattern on the bed sheets. The bed. One bed. Dean blinked at it.

"You should lie down, Dean," Cas suggested, his voice loud in the quiet room, startling Dean a little. He'd put the room key, tagged with a numbered piece of plastic, down on the dining table and was now shrugging off his trench coat and folding it methodically over the back of the chair. Like nothing was wrong.

"It's just one bed here."

Cas raised his head. His eyes fell on the bed. "Yes. You know I don't require sleep, Dean."

Dean knew. He knew that it was logical to order a single bedroom when only one of them required sleep. Though he couldn't believe he'd missed this part when Cas had been talking to the motel receptionist (even managing to pay with Dean's credit card after a few failed tries). Dean hadn't been really listening to the conversation Cas and the receptionist led, mind zoning out and eyes zeroing in on the little spider building a rather impressive web in the corner of the lobby. He'd noticed the receptionist giving him and Cas a brief appalled look but hadn't given it much thought.

He realized now what the look had meant. The guy had thought they were here to fuck.

What did Cas think?

"Dean, please, go lie down."

Dean whipped around to stare at the angel, pointing an accusing finger at him. "You do this! Now and… and before! In the warehouse. How?!" Or more importantly, what the fuck?!

Cas' hands clenched into fists. His eyes wandered around the room, not really settling on anything. "It's… difficult to explain, Dean. It's the bond we share."

The bond again. But it had never been an issue, so why would it become one now? "Cut the crap, Cas. You've never been able to do this before."

The angel sighed. He tugged at the tie around his neck awkwardly, as if trying to loosen it. It was such a nervous human gesture that Dean for a moment forgot what they had been talking about in the first place. Then Cas replied, "I… It was different before. Sometimes... when you stand on a crossroad, you need to see all the roads clearly before you can know where they will lead you. What they have to offer you. Mine were obscured and I've never paid them the attention that they deserved... I've never realized what the two of us could mean."

And the award for the most enigmatic bullshit ever spoken goes to...

It irritated Dean. Cas was usually far from straight-forward and Dean got kind of used to it. But right now, after the angel had learned everything about Dean (his thoughts, his fears), it got on his nerves. Played them like a badly tuned instrument. It was only fair Dean learned back about Castiel.

"Make me laugh, man, come on," he prompted, with a false lightness he didn't feel, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "What the two of us could truly mean?"

The angel squared his shoulders and Dean saw it then, in the quick flash of the blue fire in Cas' eyes when Dean put his arms behind and leaned back. Irritation quickly turned into gut-churning disgust and a twisted sense of solidarity. Poor little angel had seen all the down-and-dirty of Dean's mind and it confused him, made him crave to experience the pleasures that being human could bring. The sad thing was that it wasn't Castiel's fault, really. Cas was too pure to realize what had really kicked him to take Dean here.

Was Dean surprised? A little, yes. But he should have expected it. He should always expect it.

Was he disappointed?

Absolutely.

He leaned further back, elbows resting on the mattress, and allowed his legs to slide open. Cas' eyes raked down his body before snapping back up, a slight tint of shade covering his cheeks. He was so innocent it made Dean want to stain him with humanity.

"What's the matter, Cas? A trip down the memory lane made you feel all hot and bothered?"

Aah, he could finally see it. How flustered the angel actually was. He tried to cover it, but the stiff shoulders and avoiding any and all eye contact all of a sudden gave him away. It amused Dean (making him sick, really, but amused too).

"Did you like it? Did you see it all? You did, right? Saw everything with Jeremy… with Taylor?"

Cas was on him before Dean saw him move. "Do not ever use that name to taunt me," he growled, his right knee on the bed's edge between Dean's legs like it belonged there. His hand gripped tight where Dean's collarbone met his neck, thumb pressing at Dean's chin and forcing him to tilt his head back and look into the angel's eyes. All embarrassment vanished without a trace and what remained was cold steel blue.

Dean's mouth went dry. He smirked at the angel, far from done. "What about Jeremy it was that got to you, Cas?" he asked in a low husky voice. He knew how to push buttons, had his whole life to master it. Body language open, inviting, emphasizing the words and knocking down the hesitation. "You saw us fucking, right? Did you feel it? It's like a heat spreading out from the core of your body, crawling up and up, waiting to just... explode. Too much and not enough at the same time. It's like a fever and you want it to rise higher... and you don't care if you die."

The thumb on his chin twitched, and hello, there was the fire again.

"Dean..."

"You don't know what to do with it, do you? Want me to help with–that?" For the iron grip Cas had on him, Dean could only indicate with his eyes and eyebrows (adding a cocky grin for the effect) at the bulge forming in the angel's pants.

Cas shifted his weight. "I don't–"

He seemed genuinely confused but Dean didn't have any space left in him for pity. He propped up higher on his elbows. Close, they were so close now. Dean breathed against the angel's skin, feeling goosebumps break on the path he traced to whisper in Cas' ear. "I can show you."

Cas tilted his head to look at him. Their mouths were touching, almost, Dean letting his lips fall apart to seek after the hot puffs of air they were sharing. Cas thumbed under the bowed shape of Dean's bottom lip with a child-like curiosity. Dean wanted to lick the finger but it was out of reach. Everything in the angel was out of reach. Too good and too pure to get anywhere near. Close but too far away for someone like Dean.

"Don't act so shy, Castiel," he pressed, feeling the words against the angel's lips. He was getting angry again and he wanted that to stop. He wanted to return back to the heat. "I saw how you handled Meg. And when you were Emanuel? Don't tell me that little wife of yours never wanted anything from you. You're not as innocent as you'd like everyone to think you are, huh?"

It seemed like Castiel lost his voice, reduced to exist just from Dean's proximity and words alone. "Dean, I..."

"No," Dean interrupted him, losing patience, hating the stalling, the distance between them, always there, like an abyss. "No, Cas. You brought me here. You want something? Then take it."

"Dean..."

"Take it."

Cas surged forward. He didn't capture Dean's mouth, though. He brought their foreheads together but their mouths never connected. Of course not. Dean took a shuddering breath.

Cas' lips traveled higher, planting a kiss on Dean's temple.

"I'm sorry," he said.

They were the last words Dean heard before falling back into the sheets as the darkness enveloped him.

He ignored the fat tears rolling down his cheeks. His eyes were glued to the broken pieces of the glass bottle which had shattered against the wall. The bottle which he'd thrown inches away from Jeremy's head.

"You say one more word 'bout my family-"

"And you what, D, throw another beer at me?" Jeremy looked so fucking calm, even though he wasn't; his fists were clenched, eyes narrowed. Dean wanted to punch him and kiss him at the same time.

"We've been over this hundreds of times, Dean, you're–"

"You're unique, Dean, and you don't even realize it. Amongst the billions of bright souls, yours is the one I'm drawn to..."

Like a moth to the flame.

You'll get burnt, Cas.

"No, I won't."

Dean woke up disoriented, eyes heavy. Cas' voice dying away in his ears (real, there) as if the angel had whispered them to him in the sleep. The flowery sheets were tangled between his legs. He was still wearing his jeans, and it made him feel more secure, grateful to Cas for not stripping his clothes off while Dean was unconscious.

Speaking of whom... Cas was sitting in the chair positioned to face the bed, stiff and unmoving, watching Dean without blinking. He suspected it's how Cas had spent the hours while waiting for Dean to wake up. It didn't feel as unnerving as it had once used to.

Dean wetted his lips. "Cas, I'm–"

Cas stood up abruptly and with such a force Dean was surprised the chair didn't topple over. "It's alright, Dean," he said. "It was a… demanding day for all of us. I'll bring you breakfast."

He was gone before the words even registered with Dean.

"Okay," Dean muttered to the empty room.

With a resigned sigh and feeling like the world's biggest asshole, he stood up and made his way to the bathroom. The hot, long shower made him feel a bit better but it wasn't able to work miracles. Dean brushed his teeth with a toothbrush he found on the mirror shelf. He suspected Cas of flying to a drugstore and buying one while Dean was sleeping. He entertained himself with imagining the angel carefully unwrapping the toothbrush from the original package, with that small frown of his, and placing it next to the toothpaste provided by the motel so they were perfectly in one row, like little blue and green soldiers.

He chuckled, the sound startled out of his throat. Grimacing, he rinsed his mouth and headed back to the bedroom. He resigned himself to waiting until Cas returned, but after a few minutes spent in silence he got nervous, restless. Sitting on the bed and bumping his right leg up and down, Dean had to war with the rooted urge to fly. It would be simpler that way, maybe. And maybe not, because Cas would follow him and find him at the end of the world and then drag him back. And curiously enough, the thought didn't make him feel trapped or angry. It was just a fact, a firm everlasting truth like that angels existed and that his mom loved him. Cas would follow him to the end of the world just to bring him back. It was kind of a head trip.

Cas returned back and, judging by the self-satisfied little nod, he seemed pleased with Dean for not running away at the first chance of being alone. He had an armful of bags, which he dropped onto the table, containing a colorful variety of takeaway meals. From bagels and hamburgers to pre-mixed salads and four different kinds of pies. Dean poked curiously at the cherry pie closest to him only to retrieve his hand under Cas' unrelenting gaze.

"Pie is the dessert. You eat it after the main meal."

Dean rolled his eyes. He opted for the ham and cheese sandwich.

Unwrapping the papers, they ate in silence. It felt like this was just another day between the hunts, when Cas would pop by to say hello and see how things were. He would sometimes relent and join Sam and Dean for lunch, if only for the taste of the ingredients. He was doing it now, also, eating a burger (because he never stopped loving them) as if it was vital to his life. He even went as far as stealing a piece of the apple pie when Dean wasn't looking.

Which was quite easy. Dean tried to keep his eyes on the table or on the food. Mostly out of the pure stubbornness not to acknowledge that maybe, not everything was so awesome. He remembered yesterday, when Cas had read his thoughts or whatever the hell it had been about. Frankly, it should probably creep him out but after thinking it through, he saw no reason to call on the issue again.

They'd seen worse. Cas, Sam and Benny had seen his life in a nutshell and now knew everything there was to know about Dean Winchester. So why should it bother him that out of nowhere, one of them apparently gained the ability to probe in his head too?

"Dean," Cas said.

Dean hummed, raising his eyes. Oh, he'd been staring at the last bit of the cherry pie in his hands for probably longer than was socially acceptable, even when the other person was an angel with serious communicating skills.

"Uh... so Cas, whatcha planning on doing?" he asked to divert the attention away from himself.

"I want to take you places," Cas replied simply.

Dean raised his eyebrows and popped the last piece of the pie into his mouth, chewing. "... Okay?"

"I want you to have a vacation," Cas continued. "To go wherever you want. Not for a hunt but for the place itself."

Cas meant well, Dean tried to convince himself. It still bugged him though, that Cas could think a little holiday would suddenly make his life a balanced zen garden of peace and harmony. "And you think that'll miraculously heal everything? That it's gonna help?" he said, a little bit sharply.

"Of course not," Cas replied, with a frown implying that he didn't understand why Dean would think otherwise.

Dean sighed. Sometimes, it was so easy to talk to the angel, and sometimes Dean suspected Cas of plainly feigning ignorance just to get a rise out of him. "I don't know, man."

"Dean."

Dean raised his head.

"You deserve a break," Cas said firmly.

Did he?

...

Maybe he did.

The warm breeze licked over his skin. The dots of orange light from the city under their feet shone bravely all the way up to them, through darkness thick as ink, only the night sky littered with blinking stars.

Dean let go of Cas. His immediate reaction was to ask where they were but then he noticed why he stood so high above the city and what exactly it was that the soles of his boots touched. When he did, his mouth fell open. He gaped like a fish.

Pyramids. The Great Pyramids of Giza. Dean didn't need to have Sam's brain or the ridiculous amount of knowledge that high school geography teachers seemed to possess to know this place even without a previous visit. Or the importance it held for the history.

Well, okay, maybe he didn't much care to wrap his mind around the importance. It was, after all, just another graveyard. With dead people under. Who happened to be the rich sort.

A laugh escaped Dean's throat. He circled the edges, looking down and around, thinking if this was a dream. "Are you freaking kidding me?"

"I would never kid you," Cas replied, a soft smile playing on his lips. He sat down, feet hanging over the edge. Dean joined him after making two more rounds and settling his head about it all.

He shook his head. "You're unbelievable."

Cas tilted his head.

"And megalomaniacal. We could have gone to a fair, you know. Coulda play the hoopla."

"We can go there next," the angel offered.

A wave of warmth washed over Dean, soothing just like the whispering desert breeze. Their legs brushed when Dean started to rub his boots against one another to do something with his body, Cas' side a solid support against his. Dean kind of wanted to stay like this forever. Wondered if Cas felt the same. Everything seemed simple, suddenly. It was the two of them and the dead, here. No demons, no tablets, no memories. It was just… now.

"Why are you doing this?" he couldn't help but ask again.

The angel gazed into the night. "I told you, Dean."

Dean nodded in agreement, peeking curiously at where Cas was looking. He saw two night guards walking rounds in the distance. Their bodies were tiny from this height but Dean could still make out the weapon holsters hanging at their waists, probably nestling the M&Ps which were usually carried by the law enforcement police officers. Would the guards raise their heads, they'd see them. But thankfully, it never occurred to the them to look up at the two invaders hanging out on the top of one of the oldest monuments in the world.

"Tell me again," Dean insisted. He thought he knew, on some level, but he needed to hear it from Cas. Again and again. In precise words and not in a code.

"I was blind not to..." Cas stopped. He started again. "No, I was in denial. These feelings I have, it has never happened to me and I didn't understand them. I still don't. But I acknowledge them. And I have no desire to hide from them. I've always known that I would move heaven and earth for you, Dean, and I would rebel and I would kill for you. I want to kill for you even now. I want to find that monster who calls himself a human being and kill him with my bare hands. I want to–"

"He's dead," Dean said. It was quiet and Cas almost missed it. Dean repeated more firmly. "He's dead. Died of a cancer a couple years ago. I went… I wanted to visit him, don't really know why. To frighten him, I guess? Maybe kill him. See if he was so big as I remembered him being. I don't know. Maybe just 'cause I felt guilty for never telling anyone about it. What if he found another kid? It'd be my fault."

He traced the progress of the night guards. Their arms flailed wildly, deep in conversation. They were telling each other funny stories, probably. A soft laugh echoed through the empty space.

"You were a child, Dean. You were scared and alone. It's understandable."

Dean looked back at the angel, needing to see the proof of the words on Cas' face. "I killed my first monster when I was eleven. I shouldn't have been scared, Cas."

"There are all different kinds of monsters in the world."

Dean snorted, looking away. Damn right.

They sat in silence, seconds, minutes ticking by. The night patrol finished the circle and returned back to the guard shack. A flickering lights started off behind the window. They must have turned on the television. The lights changed quickly. White with red edges, blue with orange, green and yellow. The brisk spectrum hypnotized Dean. As if the colors held the answer to his life, but he couldn't read in them.

"I don't plan on returning to Heaven any time soon," Cas said suddenly, dispersing the silence hanging above them like heavy rainclouds.

Dean breathed in and out slowly, rubbing his hands together. He didn't realize how important it was until Cas said it aloud. "... Okay," he replied softly.

"You know I was kidding about the fair."

"And you know I said I'm going to take you there next."

"And I never kid, Dean," Dean mimicked Cas' low gravel voice, making the angel want to resort to the human urge of rolling eyes.

It seemed surreal. No, it didn't seem. It was. Totally absolutely fucking surreal and at the same time the best holiday Dean's ever had. If he didn't count that time when dad had taken them to Death Valley, which had been pretty cool as well.

This was different, though. This was Cas. This was Cas, aka the angel of the Lord, flying them to fairs, national parks, mountains and openair cinemas. To football matches and car races, even though he was obviously bored by staring at cars going in circles. This was Cas showing Dean China and Vatikan (which in the end wasn't as cool as Dean had thought it was going to be), bringing him to Milan and trying to force him to step inside La Scala. Which Dean resolutely refused. He was getting to do things he'd never done before, but Carmen? Ugh, too much. Not to mention the obligatory suits. Wearing them as fake feds was enough of smart clothing in one lifetime that Dean could handle. But: "Thanks for the effort, dude."

"You're welcome, Dean."

They walked through the streets busy with tourists. Women on high-heels scuttling past them, bags with names Dean has never heard of hanging from their slender hands. Fingers with perfect though sometimes absolutely crazy manicure tilted for the world to see. Despite the chilly morning weather, most of them wore skirts and V-necks. Dean… found himself not turning after them which... weird. But whatever. Cas was showing him some apparently big-ass cathedral, and for someone angelic, he seemed pretty passionate telling him about the architecture.

It wasn't the content of what Cas was telling him. Dean didn't care much about churches or tombs (if there weren't any remnants of a spirit to dig out and light up). But he surprisingly cared for the tiny spark dancing in Cas' eyes as he tried to barrel some etymology into Dean's brain ("The word duomo comes from the Latin word domus, which means house. Dean... Dean? Are you listening?")

The spark transformed the angel's features to something warmer and more human. To something really nice and welcoming. It was different than the passion to make the world a better place, make the Heaven a better place. This was deep and personal, saved for the angel himself and distinguishing him from other angels. It was a freaking hobby.

"Dean!"

"Huh?"

"You're not listening," Cas accused him.

Dean grinned apologetically. "Sorry, angel." It slipped from his lips unintentionally, like he didn't even need to think about it. Cas didn't seem to mind though.

"Hey, Cas?" Dean asked, when Cas gave up on the cathedral and mused about their next destination. They did it like this, Cas thinking of the journey and Dean tagging along. He honestly didn't care where they ended up (except for operas, obviously). What he liked was that since pyramids, they hadn't talked about Dean's past. It was exactly what holidays should be about–clearing head and leaving the tedious life with its problems behind.

A few times, Dean had almost started about it. He didn't even know why. What he knew was that he and Cas were sitting in a bar, pizzeria or that last time on a ramp of a high construction building, overlooking New York when it happened. Dean was drinking beer, listening to Cas going on about Heaven's hierarchy, and he opened his mouth without a conscious thought. The sun was setting down, and it made a serene view even in NY. The noise from the roads and streets didn't reach all the way up to them, and when the loudest shouts and car horns did, they were muffled. A comforting background. So Dean opened his mouth and Cas looked at him in anticipation. But then... Dean closed his mouth again, the words not coming to him as easily as he'd imagined. He sipped his beer to try in vain to cover the move. Cas never mentioned it.

"Yes, Dean?"

Dean scratched the back of his head. "Uh… I was thinking that maybe, if you don't give a damn or whatever. We could, uh, go to the beach somewhere? I've never really been to one just for holiday, you know."

Cas smiled. "Of course," he said. It was easy like that. Dean's one little inquire and Cas took them to Caribbean.

And it was the best inquire ever.

Imagine beaches miles long, sprinkled with white and pink sand. Imagine tall majestic palm trees skirting your path. The hum of the waves bathing your bare feet as you paddle across the shore, sun heating up your skin. And imagine this all in a secluded area with no one else around.

"Where are we exactly?" Dean asked, as they sat down on the sand.

"Barbuda," Cas said, "to the east from British Virgin Islands."

They listened to the sounds of the splashing waves. The sand between Dean's toes was warm, the early evening heat prickling against his exposed skin of his neck while the salty breeze cooled his front. It made him sleepy. Content. He'd imagined it'd be like this but of course had been a bit afraid that when the moment finally came, he would be disappointed by the reality. He wasn't. Far from it. The reality was much better than the fantasy.

Dean couldn't be happier. He'd always had problems with hanging onto the fantasies. He liked the made up stories, part of why he loved his job of hunting evil. Like the knights in fairy tales. Except real. It made him try to be better, work twice as hard. Sometimes too hard, even if maybe he didn't have to. Like for Sam.

And this... this was so normal and perfect it hurt. It wasn't supernatural and it wasn't a moment pumped with adrenaline and action, life-or-death situation. Dean liked those, thrived on them. But this somehow... it was way better in a sense that even Dean himself couldn't explain.

He glanced sideways at Cas. At his guardian angel, literally. "You know..." He cleared his throat when Cas turned to him, having the same tingling feeling as in the bar, the pizzeria and on the ramp. But this time, he was set on finishing. Let it out. Let it all out. "I would… At that time, I would have done it. Tried to, you know, with the gun… and maybe other times too. I would have done it. I wanted so much to do it," he said, ignoring the frown that creased the angel's brow. "But I don't wanna, not anymore. So you don't have to, like be afraid or something. I won't do it, don't want to. Possibly couldn't even if I wanted to." Laughing self-deprecatingly, he hugged his knees tightly to his body, pinning his eyes back to the horizon.

"What do you mean?" Cas asked after a moment of silence.

"Well, I was… first back in that alley with the gun. It should have fired and it didn't. Then always, when I should have been already five feet under, something happened. I was brought back or someone saved me. One time I was electroduced. I should have died, you know. But Sammy found that priest with his bat-shit crazy wife. There're like bazillions of these guys around the states, and Sammy found this exact one who really had the ability to heal me. Well, y'know, for a price, which was bad, but he healed me at that time. I lived, walked it off when I shouldn't have been allowed to."

"I don't think it was a miracle, Dean."

Dean snorted. "I ain't saying that it was."

"No," Cas said, "what I mean is that it was calculated."

At this, Dean's eyes snapped back to Cas.

"In your memory from the alley," Cas explained, and he looked apologetic about bringing it up, "I sensed a presence of a very powerful angel."

Dean's lips parted in surprise. "You mean like archangel? Do you think… Michael?"

Cas nodded slowly, like he was afraid of Dean's reaction. "Yes."

"Huh." Dean shook his head. He probably shouldn't have been surprised. "He was making sure his meatsuit stayed intact. It actually… explains a lot."

"I'm glad for it."

The ocean wind grew stronger. Dean inhaled the saltiness, marking it into his mind, wanting this memory to be as strong as the bad ones. Maybe stronger. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Dean smiled. It was all he planned on doing, just the one brief smile to let Cas know he appreciated the sentiment. But then the smile spread wider and before he knew it, he was grinning from ear to ear. "Come on," he punched Cas in the shoulder. "Let's hit the waves."

He raced to the water and didn't stop when the first wave hit his pants which were still on, and he didn't head back when the water soaked his t-shirt up to his neck. He dived right in, feeling ecstatic and lighter than he had in years. When he broke up the water surface, he could see Cas lingering close to the shore, water barely reaching his hips. Dean rolled his eyes.

He kicked his legs and swam to Cas. "Hey, what's up?"

Cas glared at him. Dean's grin stretched impossibly wider. "Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?"

"You do know how to swim, right?"

"I don't see any reason why I shouldn't."

"Well I see tons of them. For example that as an angel, you don't have to know how mere humans survive in the water when you can blink and teleport."

The glare deepened. Precious. "It's not a problem, man," Dean said with an innocent smile. "We can just splash water here like little kids do, so the big waves don't drown us."

"Are you making fun of me, Dean?"

"No, of course not. We can do this or we can build a sandcastle if you prefer."

A splash of water hit his face. After Dean rubbed out the saltiness from his eyes, he grimaced at the angel. "Did you just did what I think you did?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Another handful of water splashed him. Cas didn't raise a finger but Dean was certain he was looking at the culprit.

"Dude! Are you using your mojo to splash water at me?"

Cas smiled. Kind of wickedly. And Dean kind of liked that expression on his face. "That would be unfair, wouldn't it?"

"It actually would," Dean agreed.

He got a mouthful of water for an answer.