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We Are

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The bunker door slams behind him and he finally lets his walls drop. Three sobs burst from his chest in quick succession. That is all he allows himself. Anything else would be excessive. He can’t let himself fall apart when there was still work to be done. He had to find Jack. Ananel. Maybe, if things in Heaven were bad enough, they would allow him to return and help keep the lights on. It would be a shame if Rowena’s sacrifice went in vain; that the world ended because Heaven broke open and trillions of souls rained down.

Castiel shuts his eyes willing the memory of Dean leaning desolately against the table away. He could feel the confliction in Dean’s soul. The temptation to remain loyal despite all that he had done. A selfish part of him and wanted to stick around… see if Dean would forgive him. But Castiel could tell when something had been broken. And that’s what they were. He couldn’t think of Dean not forgiving him and worse yet, he couldn’t think of Dean forgiving him, only for Castiel to destroy something else in their lives.

It’s better if he keeps his distance.

He can’t bear being a disappointment.

His powers are failing anyway. Soon he’d become irrelevant. Best to cut all ties now; of his own accord.

Slowly, reluctantly he steps through the underbrush surrounding the bunker lost in his thoughts the times where he had felt accepted and included in the Winchester’s family and the times he had ruined their relationship. “We are.” He had said to Dean. And at the time he’d believed it… because he couldn’t bear not to.

Dean had realised though. They weren’t real. It was then that Castiel realised that he had to leave.

He stops.

Soft chirping comes from a nearby bush. He crouches near it, knowing that birds are usually asleep at this time. Inside a small nest is a lone dove. It’s wing is broken. Castiel can relate. He strokes the bird’s head tenderly and it nuzzles at him with its beak. “You’ll be okay.” He assures, taking a moment to appreciate the plushness of its feathers. He releases a small trickle of grace, instantly mending the bird’s wing. It chirps again, this time happily and burrows into his hand in thanks.

There was once a time when the bird’s aura would be enough to indicate it’s feelings but with his powers failing steadily, even that is no longer available to him. Even Dean’s soul… he would have liked to see it one last time… even that simple pleasure had been revoked.

So Castiel made his way towards his new life completely unaware that something sinister was watching him and to the pile of rotting flesh that lay just a few yards away.

...

Castiel drags himself out of bed with a groan. Before sitting up and grabbing his gun. It appears that losing his grace is making him lethargic. No one should be knocking on his hotel door. No one even knows that he’s here. He approaches the door silently and peers through the peep hole.

He’d know that head anywhere.

Dean.

In that moment it’s pure instinct that makes him rip the door open and stare at his friend.

“Cass?” Dean looks at him dazedly, his green eyes unfocused and shifty.

Castiel frowns, suddenly remembering their current feud. No. It wasn’t a feud. He’d left for good. They had both agreed that they should go their separate ways. Which isn’t what he wanted. But he couldn’t take the intense loathing and disregard that Dean had sent his way. Sometimes Dean made him feel like he wasn’t even there. Useless to them. Invisible. Dead to him.

And nothing had changed.

“You’re drunk.” He observes, casually filling the door frame to hide the disarray in the room.

“Yeah.” Dean slurs. “I’ve been drunk since you left.”

Gulping, Castiel tightens his grip on the door. That isn’t what he had expected to hear.

Dean leans into his face and Castiel gets a whiff of whiskey. His eyes roam over Castiel’s face in a way that is usually reserved for flirting with women. Dean’s face is inches away; Castiel can distinctly see each and every freckle in his pale skin. “I’ve missed you.” Dean leans in to wrap his arms around him, pressing his face tightly into his neck; goose bumps ensue as Dean’s hot breath tickles across his skin.

His arms remain trapped at his side and Dean doesn’t seem to want to end their embrace.

Damp lips press against his neck and Castiel shivers as Dean slowly sticks his tongue out moving it in tiny circles. His eyes shoot open and he finally catches himself enough to yank out of Dean’s arms.

Pouting as Castiel moves away Dean grabs him by his tie and yanks him closer. Lips meet in a jarring clash that knocks the breath out of Castiel. Dean’s tongue parts his mouth licking lightly all over. To say that Castiel is stunned would be the biggest understatement of the century. Dean would never ever do such things with a male. Something he had made abundantly clear throughout the years.

“Kiss me back.” He pleads.

He stammers, “No! Why are you doing this.”

Dewy green eyes stare at him, “Because I’ve missed you. Because you’re the only one I can trust to always be there for me.”

“You have Sam.”

Dean laughs, loud and raucous, “Sammy left. Chuck’s gone so he left to go live his dream life.” He laughs again, leaning almost all his weight onto Castiel, “First you left. Then him. I was thinking… maybe I should leave too.” he waves a hand, “Y’know. Check out of this hell hole and into another slightly worse hell hole.”

Gripping his arm harshly Castiel wrenches him upright once more. “Don’t.” he begs, “I’ll help you Dean.”

For the first time Dean looks something resembling sober. “You will?”

“Of course.” He says, lessening his grip into something gentler. “But you’re mad at me.” It feels necessary to remind Dean of this in his current state of intoxication.

“I was.” He admits, “Still kinda am. But – you’re it for me Cass. If I think of myself happy, you’re always there.”

“When I think of happiness I think of you too Dean.” His voice is rough, with shock… with joy. That Dean would forgive him… need him again.

“Good.” Says Dean. “Then kiss me. Because I’m in love with you.”

Castiel lets out a shaky breath. Never had he dreamed of hearing those words from Dean’s lips, in Dean’s voice. He’s amost too thrown off to even respond but he knows that he can’t pass up this chance. Dean could be drunk enough to regret this in the morning or even forget it entirely but drunk mouths speak hard truths. And Dean loves him “I love you too Dean.” He says with conviction, slamming their lips together once more.