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"And that's all you saw?" Dean asked with urgency over the line as he scribbled out the details of the prophet's vision on the back of a motel pamphlet.

"Yeah," Kevin sighed. "That's all, sorry Dean." The apology sounded sincere enough. Dean thanked him, told him it was all right, and to call him if he saw anything else useful.

"We don't know where his is, but we know where he will be." He turned over his notes for his brother and Garth to read. The address was of some old abandoned warehouse just outside a fishing port.

"Then we'd better get going." Sam sighed. "Any idea when he will be there?"

"Minimum of two to three days," Garth chimed in. The brothers eyed him suspiciously. "What? You think this is the first time the kid had a vision. A few months of 'Oh my God, déjà vu' will keep you on schedule, and it never fails." The boys raised their brows at each other. "I'm stocked up on supplies at HQ so it'd probably be good if we head there. It's actually not too far from there." He rapped his finger on the pamphlet. He had been cautious about speaking in general since their last argument, not wanting anything to slip that could cause either of them (mostly Dean) to snap.

"Sounds like we got a lead." Sam offered, deciding for the group to go along with Garth's plan. During the drive to 'HQ' however, Dean was forming plans of his own.

"If we beat them there we'll have the jump on them." Dean said more hopeful than was necessarily plausible.

"Dean," Sam hated being the downer. "Kevin saw it. You know how prophecies work."

"We never defied Fate before? Come on Sam, we could save an innocent-"

"We won't. We can't. Remember when we first met Chuck? We played this game before and lost." He worriedly glanced at Dean's tightening hands on the wheel.

"The least we can do is try."

"Just don't get your hopes up okay?" Sam said, looking to the backseat. Garth stayed quiet, knowing all too well that arguing the fact that there was no saving the doomed angel would only cause him trouble. He would just let the eldest Winchester believe he could stop Castiel if he cared enough. But, that wasn't how fate worked. The rest of the drive was silent other than the radio that Dean progressively cranked higher as the day went on, trying to drown out his own anxious thoughts with blaring guitar and ruggedly sung lyrics.


The bed was warm despite the chill of the winter weather, snow flurries turned to a thick blizzard, and Dean wrapped himself tighter in the covers. Sam's bed was empty and tidily made. An extra key for the room next door still sat on the table where he had left it. They must not be back yet. Dean thought. Sam and Garth had gone out to pick up some supplies while Dean booked their rooms. Apparently he 'was in no shape to drive' as Sam put it. He had to admit, four hours of sleep for three days just wasn't cutting it anymore.

Shivering from the slight draft, he rolled closer to the center of the bed. It was warmer here and a tickle of hair brushed against the tip of his nose. Startled, he shot up and away from the figure beside him. The figure turned over to face him in the dark and looked inquisitively upon him with those big blue eyes. An arm reached up and pulled him gently back down to the pillows. Their faces were so close that their noses almost touched.

"Cas..." Soft lips cut off Dean's question, warm and inviting they pressed into his own. Cas' hands cradled Dean's face, thumbs caressing the stubble on his cheek.

"I missed you." The angel whispered, the heat radiating from his bare chest invited his cold bedmate to come closer.  

"Me too." Dean's hands mindlessly searched for the small of Cas' back. Only instead of flat skin, he found a smooth down-like sensation brush over his fingers. He stroked them gently and Cas ruffled the wings in response.

"Most people are not able to feel them." Cas breathed onto Dean's lips.

"I can." He affirmed.

 "You're not most people." The angel chuckled as Dean kept stroking the wingtips much to his amusement. After a moment, the hunter's smile faded.

"Where have you been?" he stopped caressing the feathers, expecting hesitation, but Cas responded normally.

"That... is a dangerous question." and smoothly he went back to squeezing himself closer as his hands left the hunter's face to find the hips of his boxer shorts. The kiss grew longer, deeper easily shutting up Dean who complied without hesitation doing the same, if not a bit more eagerly. It was all good, the warmth of their bodies pressed together, the little tug as Cas nibbled Dean's bottom lip. It felt simple, and it was good. The complications seemed to melt away as Cas shifted to pull Dean over top of him. There were no worries no king of Hell to come all guns blazing, no mysterious flying off. He might have been avoiding the question, but that could wait until later. They were alone, for the first time in a long time they were truly alone. His wings spread out so far off the bed so that he lay flat on his back. His hands snaked up Dean's arms, the right resting on the scar from the first time they touched. The raised flesh tingled at his touch. He wrapped the other hand around his neck to pull himself up to another kiss that Dean leaned into greedily. His arm that wasn't supporting his weight hefted Cas up closer by his lower back so their bodies almost touched.

Suddenly, something cold slid between his shoulder blades. Castiel pulled his tongue back into his own mouth to say,

"Don't ask questions." Frightened, Dean tried to pull away. But, that only aided the angel in lodging the blade deep through his back and into his heart. The hunter's eyes wide as he gaped at Cas' vacant countenance. Void of emotion, except perhaps hatred. The rusty blood gurgled up his throat to dribble from his lips. Looking to his chest he could see the tip of the long blade poking through his chest, gleaming in crimson as it dripped fluidly on to Cas' chest. With a sharp tug Cas ripped it from his back and admired the blood on the blade, ignoring the fact that Dean was about to collapse just inches above him. "When you know you won't like the answer." With a heartless smile and the familiar flap of wings, he was gone, leaving Dean to collapse to the bed, bloody and quite literally heartbroken.

"Oh My GOD!" Sam shouted. Dean inhaled with a start and his eyes flew open to see his brother lying in the other bed, covering his face with his hands. "I swear if you moan one more time!" He dragged his hands down his face to glare sternly at a hazy-eyed Dean.

"What?" Was the only response he could gather. Sam sighed and turned back to the ceiling.

"I know you're enjoying yourself but... UGH!" he covered his face with a pillow.

"Um, Uh..." Dean patted his chest, relieved that there was no longer a dagger protruding from his heart where Cas had ran him through. "Sorry. Weird dream I guess." It didn't feel like a dream though, it felt real.

"Well, keep your moaning to yourself. Garth is right next door and if he hears you say 'Cas' I'm not going to be the one to explain it." Sam declared, turning his back to him.

"Come again?" Dean froze. Did he actually say that?

"Would you like a recount?" Sam  cleared his throat and imitated Dean's gravelly voice. "Cas, oh Cas-"

"Okay. Shut up! Just, shut up. I don't need a reenactment." Dean had vocalized his dreams occasionally but this time he wanted to crawl in a hole and die.

"I'm sure you don't." Sam replied like the smartass little shit he could be. Dean hurled a drool soaked pillow in his direction, which hit him in the face with a soft thud.

"Go back to sleep." Dean covered his head with another pillow and his brother sighed dramatically.

"I'll try." He rolled to face the wall again. "Good night."

"I hate you." He focused on the snowfall outside the frosted window, trying to push back the nightmare into the recesses of his mind, cramming it back into the depths that housed his losses and his hell.


"Castiel" Naomi addressed him with concern. "Do not tell me you've been having doubts." He did have doubts, he'd be stupid not to.

"No." he lied flatly. He tried looking into her eyes the way Sam and Dean did when they introduced themselves as FBI, but it came off as more of a death glare. Naomi pursed her lips in frustration. She leaned her elbows on the desk with her hands clasped.

"You do know what would happen should you question the will of Heaven." She spoke to him if he was a child.

"Yes." However, he couldn't shirk the feeling that Heaven had nothing to do with this at all. He could never seem to remember his summons. Sometimes he would blank out, like in that field. Ideas would come out of nowhere and urges would materialize with no provocation. Something had been nagging him in the recesses of his mind. He'd forgotten something there, but when he returned he found nothing but an old barn with a new hole ripped in its siding.

"I'd hate to lose one of my best soldiers." She smiled, but the gesture was empty. He might be irreplaceable, but that was only because she didn't want to get her hands dirty. "Now, " She continued, pulling out a tattered book with several markers between various pages. "New orders." Castiel swallowed stiffly at the frightening familiarity of the polished object she slipped out with the book and concealed in her lap.