deancasbigbang fic: Crossing the Sea, Part II (Dean/Castiel)

[thegrrrl2002]

Title: Crossing the Sea (Part II)
Author: thegrrrl2002
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 20,828
Spoilers: Through the end of S5

Artist: no_eight
Art link: Art Link

Summary: The apocalypse is over, and Dean has Sam back, safe and sound. All should be well with his world, but Dean's still coping with the emotional fallout and feeling more than a little off-balance, Meanwhile, Sam is convinced there's a monster living in Lake Superior but they can't seem to find it, although there's plenty of good pie and fishing trips to be had. Plus there's Castiel, who pops back into Dean's life, and gets way into Dean's personal space. He's dealing with his own issues -- being the new sheriff of heaven isn't turning out quite the way he thought it would.
Notes: A great big thank you to eretria and mmmchelle for the beta and thoughtful suggestions.

Download pdf file of entire fic

Part I is here


***

Dean flops back on the bed and grabs the remote. “Hey, bring me back a sandwich,” he yells to Sam as the door closes.

Sam pops his head back in. “Dude, get your own sandwich.”

Pointing the remote at the TV, Dean pleads, “It's almost time for Dr. Sexy.”

Sam shakes his head and leaves.

“Mustard, not mayo,” Dean shouts after him.

He turns on the TV just as the theme begins. The bed squeaks as Dean arranges the pillows, propping himself up comfortably against the wooden headboard. Another motel, another sea of knotty pine.

He likes this region. They need to investigate lake monsters more often. Great scenery, good food, not a lot of people. The TV reception sucks, though. Dean frowns at the TV, turns it on and off again for good measure. The picture flips, bends, and then clears just as Dr. Sexy himself comes on screen, dashingly handsome as ever in his flowing white lab coat.

"You are one good-looking man," Dean tells him.

Dr. Sexy is having it out with the lovely Dr. Franklin, but Dean knows she's not really angry. She just has the hots for Dr. Sexy. Which Dean can totally understand. If she had any sense, she'd jump into the nearest closet with him, not go storming off like that.

At the first commercial break the picture degrades again, the screen flickering as it fills with snow. Then it goes black for a second, only to return with an entirely different channel and Dean looks up and yes, of course, Cas.

"Hey Cas," Dean says, all casual. He's decided to pretend the kiss had never happened. He may be willing to face demons and monsters head on, hell, he even looked in the face of Death, but this--this is different. Scarier, somehow. He turns the TV off then decides to get up off the bed, since sprawling in bed while Cas is in the same room suddenly feels fraught with danger.

Or fraught with something else. Potential, maybe.

“So how goes it with the angels?” Dean asks as Cas approaches. "Committee moving things along?"

“Do you really want to know?” Cas's voice and low and rough and he continues his determined approach until he's face to face with Dean.

Dean is frozen in place. He should step back, he should turn away, but he can't, he's too fascinated by the curve of Cas's lips, by the shape of his mouth.

Dean doesn't move away, not even when Cas leans in and kisses him.

This is not what Dean had in mind. He doesn't kiss angels, he sticks to humans. Female humans, hot sexy female humans. But now Cas is kissing him, lips soft and tentative and Dean can't resist; one kiss leads into another, and another, an endless series of kisses until Dean is sure he's losing his mind. When Cas moves to nuzzle Dean's cheek, Dean wants to tell him to stop-- just stop, damn it--but then Cas kisses the sensitive skin of Dean's neck and Dean shudders.

"I like this," Cas whispers, fingers curling around the back of Dean's neck.

Thing is, Dean likes it, too. He grips the lapels of Cas's coat and pulls Cas in for a real kiss. With a lick of tongue he parts Cas's lips because hey, if Cas wants to kiss a human, Dean's going to show him how it's really done.

Cas responds by pressing against Dean with a small, desperate noise, incredibly needy and human-sounding. It's a rush, a fantastic rush of power and Dean slips his hands under Cas's coat, pulling him close. Cas's body is warm and hard as he pushes against Dean, hard enough to force Dean to step back.

The kiss turns a little messy and a whole lot desperate as Cas backs him against the wall. The last time they were this close Cas was beating the crap out of him, and this is much, much better. Especially when Cas pushes his thigh between Dean's legs and grinds slowly against him.

Dean gasps, head thudding back against the wall. "Jeeze--Cas."

Cas kisses Dean's exposed throat and he smells a little like sweat and fresh lakeside air.

"What--what happened to the blushing virgin?" Dean asks in a hoarse voice. He can feel Cas's cock pushing against his thigh, hard and insistent.

"You. You brought me to a den of iniquity," Cas murmurs against Dean's skin. "When all I wanted was you."

Startled, Dean takes Cas's head in his hands and pulls him up to look him in the face. "Seriously? You never said anything."

Cas's eyes narrow. "And if I had, how would you have reacted?"

"I would have run screaming into the night." Dean still might, if he ever regains control of his senses.

It's too much to take in so Dean kisses Cas as Cas feels his way up under his shirt, sliding over his stomach and up along his ribs. Dean leans into Cas's hands and it's crazy, how desperate he is for Cas's touch.

"Dean, I must ask something of you." Cas stills his hands on Dean's ribs.

The formality of Cas's tone gets Dean's attention immediately. "What?"

Cas pushes Dean's shirt up, exposing his chest. His eyes linger on the tattoo as his fingers slide down the center of Dean's chest. "I marked you and Sam both with sigils to hide you from angels. But unfortunately, you are also hidden from me."

"And?" It's hard to focus with the way Cas's fingers are stroking his skin.

Cas raises his eyes to meet Dean's. "With my greater powers, I could mark you so that I, and only I can, can find you. If you'll allow it." He presses his palm flat against Dean's chest.

Dean opens his mouth, then closes it again. "What, like you own me or something?" he finally asks. He's trying to sound belligerent but fails miserably. The idea turns him on. And that's just wrong.

With a faint smile, Cas shakes his head. "No. Far from it."

Dean takes a breath. "Yeah. Fine. Do it."

"Thank you." Cas closes his eyes, concentrating.

A sharp sting, and Dean gasps, but not from the pain.

"It is done," Cas says quietly.

"Kinky," Dean tells him. Cas looks puzzled so Dean kisses him. He's pretty sure this is ten kinds of wrong, that angels and humans shouldn't make out like this, as if their very lives depended on it. But the way they fit together feels very right, especially when Dean reaches down to cup Cas's ass and Cas moans and moves against him and Dean wants, he wants to push Cas down on the bed and strip him naked and--

There's a familiar rumble outside the window. It's the sound of the Impala's engine.

"Damn it." Dean hands go to Cas's hips and he eases Cas away. "Sam's back."

Cas frowns, as if he has no idea why the kissing has stopped.

"My brother?" Dean reminds him. Who has either really good or really bad timing.

"Right." Cas nods.

Dean pulls his shirt back down. "Down, boy," he says to his overexcited dick, pushing his hands in his pockets to adjust himself. He checks on Cas, who hasn't moved. He's simply standing there, contemplative and more disarrayed than usual.

"Cas, come here, let me just--" Dean adjusts the front of Cas's coat, smoothing it out while Cas stares down at his hands. The tie is more crooked than usual so Dean straightens it, but no, too straight, it looks obvious so Dean tugs it to one side again and that isn't quite right either, he's pretty sure it's the wrong side but he can hear Sam's big feet coming up the path so he turns away, running a hand over his hair as he tries to compose himself.

"Hey Dean," Sam pushes through the door, arms loaded with bags. "I got a line on a sighting up in Copper Harbor--oh, hey Cas."

"Sam," Cas says, eyes shifting away to stare at the floor.

Sam looks from Dean to Cas, then back to Dean again. He silently mouths, "No thing?"

Dean scowls back at him. "Did you bring my sandwich?"

Sam holds a bag out to him and Dean snatches it out of his hands. He turns and gets a glimpse of himself in the mirror--flushed cheeks and ruffled hair and a red mark on his neck--no wonder Sam is smirking.

"You want anything, Cas?" Sam asks. "I brought donuts."

Cas eyes the box thoughtfully, then reaches in and selects a chocolate covered one. As he bites into it Dean can't help asking, "Hey, not turning human on us, are you?"

Cas shakes his head. "No. But walking among humans for so long, I have developed some...appetites."

Sam snickers, and Dean refuses to look at him. Or Cas. Because yeah, fine, there is a thing between him and Cas all right, some kind of weird, unholy thing. Or maybe even holy. Dean puts his hand over his chest, over the new sigil. This thing, whatever it is, it would be big, there's no other way it could be.

"Hey," Dean says, dropping his sandwich on the bed. "I just remembered, I need to hit the store, out of toothpaste, you know?"

Sam frowns, confused. "No, Dean, I don't think so."

But Dean is already out the door. He heads for his car, slides down into her welcoming seat, one hand gripping the wheel as he turns the key and as he heads out onto the road he can still feel the burn in his chest from where Cas had marked him.

He puts in an AC/DC tape and cranks it up loud.

When he returns an hour later, he's feeling more like himself again. Sam is on the computer and Cas is gone. "He's observing a Canadian parliamentary session," Sam says.

"Lucky him," Dean peeks into the fridge and finds his sandwich. "Thanks, dude."

"You okay?" Sam asks with his typical earnestness. "You went running out of here pretty quickly."

Dean scowls. "No I didn't."

"Dean--"

"I'm fine." Dean unwraps his sandwich and takes a large, 'end of discussion' bite out of it.

"Well," Sam leans back in his chair. "If you want to talk about it, I'm here."

"Seriously, Sam? You want to hear all about my sexuality crisis? That I like dick now? But only angel dick?"

Sam stares, mortified. "Okay--uh, on second thought, please let's not ever talk about this again."

Dean snickers and takes another bite of his sandwich. Truth is, saying it out loud was oddly comforting. "I'm glad we had this little talk, Sammy."

***

Dean grabs the railing as the boat pitches and rocks. He's not too sure about this, the water is rougher than he expected, and he's feeling a little green around the edges. "You had to spring for the full day charter, didn't you?"

Sam nudges him and smiles. "Come on, even if we don't see anything, with any luck we'll have fresh trout for dinner."

"Awesome," Dean sighs. Eating is the last thing on his mind. He prefers his fishing to be done from a dock. A motionless, safe, secure dock. Docks don't sink.

"Here," Sam says, shoving a bag of cookies at him. "These will help."

"Ginger snaps?" Dean is dubious, but a cookie is a cookie, and he pulls one out and carefully nibbles on it, all the while checking the locations of the life preservers.

Sam, however, is having a grand time, chatting with the other passengers, asking leading questions about their experiences. It's what Sam is good at, Dean will give him that much. There are five other passengers on board, one older couple and three friends and Sam already knows them by name. A woman from the crew helps them set up their lines.

"The name's Dean, right?" she asks, adjusting the brim of her baseball cap.

"Yes ma'am."

"Name's Sue, not ma'am." Sue checks Dean's rod and reel, making sure it's set up properly. "You ever done this before?"

Dean shakes his head. "Only river fishing. Or on a dock. Nothing this big." He's doing his best to keep his eyes on the water, checking for any suspicious activities.

Sue smacks his arm. "Well you'll do just fine, as long as you listen to what I have to say and pay attention to your reel, here."

Dean catches Sam grinning at him. "Can you promise me I'll catch more fish than my dumb brother?"

She laughs, loud and boisterous.

Sue looks nothing Ellen, she's taller and her hair is short and gray, but her attitude is the same and all at once Dean's chest aches, the loss still as raw as ever. Ellen and Jo, gone forever. He's alive, despite the number of times he's died. And they're still dead. Because God sucks. He hopes that they've managed to meet up with Ash in heaven, that they're all partying down together in Ash's heavenly version of the Roadhouse.

"I said, which kind of bait would you prefer, Dean?" Sue is watching him curiously.

Dean runs a hand over his head, having missed half of her instructions. "Sorry. Whatever kind my brother isn't using, how's that?"

She helps him get set up, and despite himself, Dean finds he's having a good time. Bright sunshine, cool breeze and the overall good cheer of the other folks fishing help shake him out of it, especially when one of the others snags a big one and else on the boat cheers them on.

Dean laughs, and suddenly wishes Cas was there with him. It's ridiculous, really, wanting to share something like this with him, but he's getting used to Cas's silent, steady presence all over again. It's oddly comforting.

Not to mention the kissing. Which wasn't comforting at all. It was something entirely different.

Sam is next to bring in a fish, a big lake trout.

Dean wonders what Cas is doing right this very moment. Probably sitting in a meeting, up in heaven. Poor bastard. He really should be with them right now. Fishing. In his trench coat and suit and tie. Dean laughs out loud at the image he's conjured up.

Sam looks over at him, eyebrows raised.

"Cas. Fishing," Dean explains.

Sam laughs. "I'd like to see that."

"He'd probably just whammy the fish out of the water."

"We'd eat good, that's for sure."

Dean moves in closer to Sam. "Hearing anything useful?" he asks, cocking his head toward the other passengers.

Sam shakes his head. "Nah. I even talked to the boat captain, he thought I was nervous and kept assuring me that the boat wouldn't sink, that he's been running this lake for thirty years without incident."

"Hey, he's not going to tell us anything that would keep people off his boat, you know?" Dean squints out over the water, calm and clear today, container ships moving slowly on the horizon.

"Nothing left for us to other than catch some fish," Sam says with a shrug.

Dean wants to point out that this has got to be one of the least productive hunts they've ever been on, but his reel starts moving and oh yeah, there's a big one on there, definitely bigger than Sam's little guppy and Dean starts reeling it in.

***

Another day of investigation. They talk to five gift shop owners, six motel managers and four waitresses. Only one, a waitress who has lived in the area all her life, has heard anything about a creature in the lake--a sighting by her great uncle on a fishing trip twenty years ago--but the creature she describes sounds like a large snake.

Their fifth stop is Roy's Fish House. The waiter simply shrugs when they ask about a large creature living in the lake. "You mean, like, fish?" he asks. "We've got plenty of them."

Dean rolls his eyes. The waiter is young and clean-cut, looks like a college kid, and Dean gets the sense that he thinks serving people is beneath him.

"No, not fish, exactly." Sam takes the menu from him. "Like something big enough to sink a boat."

"Yeah," Dean says. "We've been hearing stories about all these boats going down this season. Kind of weird, don't you think?"

The waiter smooths the front of his uniform, then leans toward them. "Well, I probably shouldn't say this." He glances over his shoulder.

Dean hunches forward. "Come on, you can tell us."

The waiter takes a breath. "All right. My dad says it's insurance fraud. Economy around here is getting pretty bad, and those boats cost a lot of money to maintain." He hands a menu to Dean and straights up. "Can I get you guys something to drink?"

After he leaves, Dean raises an eyebrow at Sam. "Insurance fraud? We're out here investigating insurance fraud?" Not that he completely believes the snotty kid, but still, there may be something to it.

"Dean, we don't know that for sure. People come up with all kinds of crazy theories to explain things."

"Doesn't sound so crazy to me," Dean says. "People want out of the business, they find a way. " He leans back in his seat, and catches sight of Cas, striding into the room, looking utterly out of place in a sea of jeans and tee-shirts and flannel. Dean's face grows warm at the sight of him.

Sam waves Cas over. Dean wants to tell him not to bother, Cas can find them now, or rather, find him, at least. He hasn't told Sam about the new sigil, and doesn't know if he should.

"And don't forget about the big snake," Sam is telling him. "That wasn't insurance fraud."

"That was twenty years ago," Dean says.

The waiter returns, handing out coffee, a salad for Sam, and a slice of pie for Dean.

"Seriously, Dean?" Sam asks as Dean digs in. "Is that your fifth piece today?"

"Fruit," Dean says, waving a fork at the large slice of peach pie on his plate. "It's good for you." He looks up and see that Cas has reached them, and is waiting patiently. After a moment Dean relents and slides over in the booth to make room for him. "Cas, uh, hi. What's up?"

Cas lowers himself into the booth, his expression dour. "I have sat through two parliamentary sessions and one US senate hearing." He leans forward, thigh pressing warmly against Dean's. "Does this establishment sell bourbon?"

"Dude," Sam laughs. "Sorry, no."

Acutely aware of the touch of Cas's leg, Dean studies Cas's profile, admiring the line of his jaw, the curve of his neck. He's a good looking guy, handsome but not necessarily someone Dean would look twice at. But it's not Cas's face that he is seeing. He can never lay eyes on Cas's real face, only Jimmy's. The poor bastard. Jimmy been gone a long time now, waiting in heaven for his family to join him.

Cas sighs. "And yet it was better than listening to Jeremiel go on about the good old days when the lower orders knew their place. He's claiming the Ophanim and the Cherubim are plotting take over the host of heaven."

Cas turns to Dean, and his piercing eyes give it away. They're not Jimmy's eyes. They're all Cas.

Dean nods, even though he's lost track of the conversation and doesn't know who the heck Cas is talking about. All he knows is that the press of Cas's thigh is making his heart beat faster. "Want some pie?"

Cas shakes his head. "How goes the hunt?"

"Doesn't seem to be much in the way of sightings in this area," Sam says. "Water might be too shallow."

"Not to mention it all could be chalked up to insurance fraud," Dean adds.

Sam glares at him. "But there was a sighting of a large snake. That could be related to Lakota mythology, which mentions a creature called Uncegila, a large snake that swims in river waters and pollutes them with salt."

"A twenty year old sighting," Dean reminds him. "And what are you, a mythology encyclopedia?"

"Somebody has to be--"

"So I gather," Cas interrupts, his leg nudging Dean's, "the search is not going well."

"Uh, well, it's fine," Dean says, noting that Cas looks happier now than when he first arrived. As if he's enjoying himself. Enjoying being there, with the two of them. "Could be better."

They finish eating, and soon after the waiter stops by with the check. Sam reaches for it. "I'll go pay this, and see if I can catch the owner and talk with him."

He slides out of the booth before Dean can stop him, and now Dean is alone with Cas.

"I suppose it would be inappropriate," Cas says, eyes on Dean's lips, "to kiss you here."

"Yes," Dean says quickly. "It would. Absolutely."

Cas glances around the room. Half the tables are empty, and the remaining patrons are focused on their food. "No one is even looking," he points out.

"Cas." Dean shakes his head. He's not having this discussion in the middle of Roy's Fish House. "Let's go for a little walk." He nudges Cas until Cas slides out of the booth. They head to the door. "Sammy, we'll be outside, all right?" Dean calls out. Sam, busy with the owner, nods and waves in response.

Outside, the late afternoon sun is bright and Dean gazes up at the sky. "Weather's cleared up," he announces, then winces. Talking about the weather--that's about as lame as it gets.

He used to be a whole lot smoother than this.

"Yes, Dean. It has." Cas gives him a look as they walk along the path.

As they round a turn, they are surrounded by trees, out of sight of any passersby. "Listen," Dean starts. He turns to Cas and Cas brightens, his expression growing hopeful. Irresistibly so. "Damn it, Cas."

Dean grabs the front of Cas's coat and pulls him in for a kiss. Cas leans into him with a small, content sigh, as if this is all he's ever wanted out of life. Dean's uncertainty flees, he's too busy enjoying the sweet slide of Cas's lips on his and the way Cas's hands are moving up onto his shoulders and the warm puff of Cas's breath on his cheek.

"Cas," Dean says again, pulling back.

Cas follows the movement to press one last, swift kiss to his lips, then releases Dean. "I know. You and Sam are heading to the library now."

"Yes," Dean says. His hands are still fisted in Cas's coat.

"I'll catch up with you later, then."

So human with the lingo, and it makes Dean smile. "You do that. We'll be back in the same motel."

"I know how to find you," Cas says, and his voice has gone low and suggestive.

The new sigil. A sweet thrill low in his stomach and fuck, it still turns him on. "Go on, get out of here." Dean gives Cas a little shove as he lets go of Cas's coat.

With a rustle of leaves in the wind, Cas disappears.

***

Another dusty library and Dean leafs through old newspapers with a disgruntled sigh."Sammy, people die all the time on this lake."

An article catches his eye--three people this time, a drowning in 1954 due to a sudden storm on the lake. Too many people. Dean doesn't want to read about death anymore, or hear about the sorrows of the people left behind.

Been there, done that, too many times.

Sam glances up from across the table. "You think it might be a ghost then?"

"What? No. I didn't say that." Dean turns a page, then another, skimming headlines. A sheriff caught with his pants down, literally, making time with his secretary. Dean grins. Now that's a story.

"Okay, here," Sam says, turning the book around so Dean can see. "It's called a Mishegenabeg." He shows Dean a roughly drawn picture of a large snake, with an enormous head, jaws full of teeth, and large, bulging eyes. "The great snake. Says it can take the form of any animal, including a human."

"Okay," Dean says. "I see that coming out of the water, I'm running the other way."

"The last sighting in the lake was in 1883, though." Sam shakes his head, then tucks his hair behind an ear. "It was connected to the death of a fisherman. The son survived to tell the story. Says the Mishegenabeg rose up and snatched him, right off the boat, because they came too close to its lair."

He turns the page, and there's another drawing, this time of a man caught in giant jaws, blood everywhere, boat timbers splintered and torn. Dean turns away and stares down at his hands, clenching into tight fists to keep them from shaking.

Stupid, it's so stupid of him, to react like this to a mere picture. So luridly drawn, it's ridiculous, almost a caricature but Dean can hear the bone-shattering crunch of a toothy jaw clamping down on a struggling body.

"Dean?" Sam is calling him.

Dean forces himself to look up. "What?"

Sam looks down at the picture, then back up at Dean. "What is it?"

"It's nothing, you freak." Dean takes a deep breath, composing himself. "Just tired, that's all."

Sam nods. "Of course. Eating all that pie can be exhausting."

"Now who's being a smart-ass." Dean pulls the book away from Sam. "So if this is it, how do we kill it?"

"I thought you were convinced we were dealing with insurance fraud," Sam counters.

Dean scowls. Sam is such a pain in the ass. "Must you keep track of every fucking word that comes out of my mouth??"

"Believe me, Dean, it isn't always easy, but yes, I actually do listen to what you say."

Dean stares down at the book and the drawing of the giant man-eating snake. He wants to snap at Sam some more, to tell him off in no uncertain terms, but when he glances up he sees that Sam is smiling warmly at him.

All the anger leaves in a rush, and Dean feels like an ass. "Maybe I just want it to be insurance fraud. Instead of," Dean waves a hand at the book, "this stupid thing."

"Yeah." Sam nods. "Me too."

Back to reading, and by the time they are done, Dean's pretty sure they know less than when they started. The giant snake stories don't hold up, and there's not much going on in the immediate area. By the time they leave, Dean is beginning to think the entire hunt has been a waste of their time.

***

Hot water runs down over Dean's head, his shoulders, his back, easing muscles tight from hunching over books. He cranks the hot water up and lingers under it, rolling his shoulders, ducking his head so it the water strikes the back of his neck. He wants to wash the dust of the library off of him, the dust of a million stories about dead brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers and friends and loved ones.

He's just so damn tired.

When he's finished, he pulls the shower curtain open and fumbles for a towel, wiping his face as he steps out of the tub.

Then nearly drops the towel when he opens his eyes and sees Cas standing in front of him.

"Hello, Dean."

"Cas? Seriously? I'm in the bathroom. What if I was taking a crap?" Dean's not so sure this new sigil is a good thing. It's been a long day, and now there's Cas to deal with and Dean's not sure he has energy left to so.

Cas is staring at him.

Dean becomes aware that he's naked. Very naked. Which seems to fascinate Cas, who watches droplets of water travel down Dean's chest as if he's never seen a naked human body before.

Maybe he hasn't.

"Cas," Dean says softly.

Cas glances up, catches sight of Dean's left shoulder and his eyes widen. Dean turns so that Cas can see the handprint in its entirety. "You have one hell of a grip," Dean reminds him.

"I didn't know--" Cas raises a hand, palm out.

"Yeah, freaked me out when I first saw it," Dean told him. "I didn't know what had grabbed me. Figured it was a demon."

"Your soul. It shone like a beacon in hell." Cas places his hand on Dean's shoulder, watching as it fit over the handprint. "It was beautiful. Damaged, yet beautiful."

Dean feels a chill, despite the steam of the shower. He doesn't have the strength to think about his time in hell, not now. Not ever. "I'd be surprised if there was anything left of it by now."

"You're wrong, Dean." Cas turns his focus to Dean's face "Very wrong." That sharp-eyed stare again--Cas sees too much, but there's no place to hide.

"So," Dean says. "Now you're the expert on my soul?"

A slow nod. "Trust me, Dean. Why it that so hard to believe?"

"I trust you." Dean can't break Cas's stare, can't look away from his eyes. "I just don't trust myself."

Cas presses his lips to Dean's shoulder, his neck, his cheek, and finally, his lips. Slow, careful kisses, as if Dean is precious and fragile. It feels too much like forgiveness, too much like understanding and Dean wishes that Cas would go back to shoving him against the wall and taking what he wants.

"Why the hell are you here?" Dean asks, pressing his forehead against Cas's. "Why didn't you just stay gone? You finished what you had to do here on earth."

It would all be so much easier. He would have gotten used to it. Eventually.

Cas steps back, hands still resting on Dean's shoulders. "I went back to heaven because I thought that was where I belonged. Where I was needed." His voice is a low growl of frustration. "And yet all I could think about was being back on Earth with you."

It takes a moment to sink in. "Free will," Dean says at last. "Ain't it a bitch?" He almost feels sorry for Cas.

"Peace or freedom," Cas whispers, eyes intent on Dean. "Or you."

Dean swallows. "Hell of a choice." Cas is just as screwed as he is. It's strangely comforting.

"Maybe not." Cas touches his cheek, then kisses him.

Still too damn gentle, yet Dean finds himself responding in kind, cupping the back of Cas's neck and moving closer, dropping the towel that has been clutched in his hand and maybe this is what he needs, to be naked with Cas, consequences be damned.

"Dean." Cas steps back. "I'm sorry, I have to go."

"What? Go where?" Dean asks, frustrated.

"Heaven. That's what I came by to tell you." Cas drops his hand and looks away. "Believe me, I'd rather not."

"I don't want you to, either."

Cas jerks his head up, his eyes meeting Dean's. "That's good to know."

"Yeah. Well." Feeling more naked than ever, Dean retrieves the towel from the floor. "For how long?"

"A few days. Perhaps more." Cas frowns. "A special meeting has been called. I'm sure it's of utmost importance."

"Sarcasm, I like that. " Dean says, amused despite his disappointment. "Try not to have too much fun."

When Cas comes forward and kisses him again, Dean can taste the regret.

***

"So, Sammy," Dean says as they head down the highway. "How long we going to keep chasing our tails?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's been almost two weeks, and we have no real evidence. The Mishegenabeg story didn't pan out. What's it going to be in the next town, a giant octopus?"

Sam shifts in his seat. "We haven't tried everything yet. It's a big lake and--"

"Yeah, it's freaking huge. I know that." Dean watches as Sam frowns and gets that look, the one that means he's trying to figure out how to say something Dean is not going to want to hear.

And that kind of scares him.

"Yo. Talk to me. Asshole."

That gets Sam's attention. "Dean. Do you really want to do this?"

"What, drive the car? Yeah, I do." Dean is being deliberately obtuse.

Sam scowls at him. "I mean hunt. Do you really want to go back to that life? Or are you just doing it because I'm here?"

"What?" Surprised, Dean has to turn his focus back to the road for a minute. "I tried the apple pie lifestyle, and that worked out so well."

"You didn't exactly give it a chance, Lisa was already engaged, fine, but now there's--"

"Sammy, I'm not going to settle down and live happily ever after with Cas, I mean, come on," Dean laughs. "That's ridiculous."

Sam falls silent, and Dean concentrates on driving as the road curves around a stand of trees. He swerves to avoid a large pothole. "How are things with Cas?" Sam asks quietly. "You seem kind of distracted these last few days, ever since he left."

"I don't know." Dean shrugs. He wants to tell Sam to try and be with someone who can see into your soul, see how he feels about that, but instead he just mumbles, "Trying to work things out in my head, I guess."

"Maybe that's your problem."

"Huh?"

"Maybe you shouldn't be working it out in your head, you should be working it out with Cas."

"Thank you Dr. Phil," Dean says, but there's no heat behind it. Sam is right. If Cas hadn't had to leave, Dean's pretty sure things would have gotten worked out right there in the bathroom and Dean's still trying to wrap his brain around the fact that he's the reason why Cas came back to earth in the first place.

"So, Dean, you haven't answered my question," Sam points out. "Do you really want to go back to hunting or not?"

"You're asking an awful lot of questions," Dean says, "And it's really getting fucking annoying. What about you? Do you want to keep it up?"

"Do I want to hunt? To save people? Hell yeah." Sam isn't convincing, though.

"You could go back to college," Dean says, holding his breath.

"Nah. I don't think so." Sam looks out the window. "Classrooms seem a little cramped, at this point."

"Go Team Free Will," Dean scoffs. He's not sure if he's glad or disappointed. Sometimes he's not sure of anything when it comes to Sam. "Are we back to it being our destiny, that we don't have any choice but to go back to the life of hunting? Or is that just the easiest answer?"

"I don't know what the hell I'm saying--oh, hey Cas."

Dean checks the rear view mirror and sure enough, Cas is sitting in the back seat. "Speaking of free will," Dean says, stupidly happy to see him. "Hi Cas. You're back."

"The value of free will," Cas tells them as he leans back, looking more relaxed than Dean has seen in a long time, "is the freedom to change your mind."

"True," Dean says, watching Cas with open curiosity.

"Dean, you're right, by the way," Sam says. "I was never all that convinced there was a monster in the lake."

"What?" Deans turns and stares at Sam, who meets his eyes, looking appropriately sheepish. "So what the hell are we doing up here?"

Sam shrugs. "Taking some time off. I just wasn't sure you were ready for a real hunt."

"Seriously?" Dean's kind of pissed now. "So you had to lie to me about it?"

"Dean, I know how hard it is to be the one left behind." Sam doesn't look at him. "And I know you're not really 'fine' right now, no matter how hard you insist that you are. You need a break."

"Oh, really? Now you can read minds?"

"Dean, how long have I been your brother?"

Dean slinks down in the seat of the car. "Yeah, yeah." Dean can still feel it, the emptiness, the pain of thinking Sam was gone for ever. How pointless every single damn thing he did felt.

"And maybe it wasn't a total lie, because some of the evidence was there, right? And if I said 'hey Dean, let's take some time off', would you have agreed?"

Dean hates when Sam is right. "No," he says in a huff.

"You always want to jump right back into hunting after shit happens, so you don't have to actually think about anything."

"What's wrong with that?" Dean points a finger at Sam. "Huh?"

"Perhaps," Cas says in his quiet voice, "Sam, you needed a break, too?"

Sam turns to look at him. After a moment, he sighs, nodding his head in acquiescence. "Okay, fine, maybe I needed a break, too."

"And you couldn't tell me that?" Dean snaps.

Sam stares at him. And, to Dean's surprise, grins. "Guess I kind of got caught up in worrying about you, you big jerk."

Dean shakes his head. "You're such a freak. A ginormous one. Try talking to me next time, okay?"

Sam nods. "Maybe you should try talking sometimes, too." His eyes drift back to Cas, lounging in the back seat. "Work things out, you know?"

Right. Every time Dean tries talking to Cas, they end up kissing instead.

"So, if there isn't any monster, what about the sinkings you were tracking?" Cas asks.

"Bad weather, most likely," Sam says. "Strong currents and wind--nothing really out of the ordinary for this area."

"And let's not forget insurance fraud," Dean adds. "But it's kind of a shame, not even a single sighting of our own version of Nessie. That would have been cool, huh?"

Cas nods thoughtfully.

"Hey Cas, what's up with the deliberations?" Sam asks. "How are things in heaven?"

"Ah, the cherubs." Cas leans forward, hands resting on the front seat. "They have been granted a place at the negotiating table."

"Really?" Dean is strangely pleased. "How very egalitarian."

"Yes. It took some convincing. Raphael was not at all for it at first, but once he was, the other angels followed. Of course. So a deal was made, with very strict provisions on how the cherub representatives may greet the other angels."

"No hugging?" Dean asks.

"No hugging."

"Good."

"It is a relief to all of us," Cas agrees. "But it was a struggle. Every step of the way. The angels still want someone to tell them what to do. Me, specifically. Or Raphael. And the two of us don't agree on much."

"I can understand that," Dean says with a shudder.

Things might be kind of crappy on earth, but Dean suspects it's a whole lot better than being in heaven and dealing with angels.

***

They grab dinner on the road, a little shack with five tables and the best cheeseburger Dean has ever tasted. Plus, some crazy "fruits of the forest" pie, which also might be the second best thing Dean has ever tasted. A few more hours on the road, and at last they turn off and find a small motel, two stories high, a bright neon sign guiding them into the parking lot.

Dean gets out, leans against the car with Cas, breathing in the cool night air as he waits for Sam to get them a room. A door slams shut and Dean turns to see Sam striding out of the motel office. "About time, dude. Where is our room?" Dean picks up his bag.

"My room," Sam says, "is 6A. You are in 12B." He holds a key out to Dean.

"What the hell is this?" Dean asks, indignant.

"Thought you might want a bit of privacy. To work things out," Sam adds with a glance toward Cas. He waves the key at Dean. "Go on, take it."

"Get out of here, I don't--we--"

Sam rolls his eyes, and slips the key into Dean's pocket. "I want a good night's sleep for once, without having to listen to your snoring."

Dean sputters. "I do not snore."

"Good night Dean. Cas." Sam nods at them both, laughing as he picks up his bag and heads toward the door.

"You think you're cute, don't you," Dean calls out after him. A touch of a hand on his shoulder and Dean has been transported to inside the motel room. With a single, king-sized bed looming in the center of it. He spins around. "Damn it, Cas--"

Cas pulls him close and kisses him.

"Again, with the kissing," Dean murmurs against Cas's lips.

"You don't like it?"

"I didn't say that." Dean goes with it, the warm, relentless press of lips against his and this time Cas is the one licking into his mouth. Cas's hands are sure yet gentle as they slide over Dean's shoulders.

"Cas," Dean says with a sigh. He rubs his cheek against Cas's, rough stubble catching his skin. "You're making me crazy."

Cas draws back. "That's a feeling I can understand."

"Okay, fine." Dean snorts, shaking his head. "So we're both crazy."

"What do you want, Dean?"

Surely Cas can see it, see how badly Dean wants. "You already know."

"But you still have a choice." Cas speaks slowly, his words measured.

"Listen to you, lecturing me about choice." But Dean's made his choice. Probably made it the first time he kissed Cas. He wants this. He pulls Cas in for a rough kiss. "Come on. We're doing this."

"Yes," Cas says eagerly. He reaches for Dean, hands sliding under the hem of Dean's shirt.

"Hold on," Dean orders. He places hand on Cas's chest, stopping him as he moves back. "Take your clothes off."

It's only fair, after all Cas has already seen him naked.

Without breaking eye contact, Cas drops the coat from his shoulders, leaving it to puddle at his feet. The tie is next, then his jacket, and he doesn't look away from Dean, not even when he fumbles with the buttons of his shirt. Trousers, shoes, socks, underwear, it all lays where it falls and then Cas is naked, absolutely, stunningly naked.

He's slimmer than Dean expected, narrow-hipped but solidly built, long lean muscles and pale skin with small dark nipples and a half-hard cock and curly brown pubic hair -- Cas is clearly a guy, or at least, in a guy's body and yet it still turns Dean on.

Dean's breath catches as Cas pads toward him on bare feet. He might be wearing a human body, he's not human. He's Castiel, a creature of heaven--a powerful warrior -- and somehow that shows through. And yet Cas's skin is soft and smooth under Dean's hands and when Cas kisses him, it's gentle and even a little sweet but Dean doesn't want gentle, he wants hard and fast and hot. He breaks off the kiss, scraping his teeth across Cas's chin as he slides his hands down Cas's chest, admiring the hard muscle as he nips at Cas's neck, smiling at the gasp of surprise.

"Dean." Cas's voice has gone low as he tugs at Dean's shirt, trying to pull it over his head. "Please."

He doesn't sound quite so sure of himself anymore.

Dean pulls his shirt off, then kicks off his shoes, unzips his jeans, and manages to get it all off, socks and everything, despite being fumble-fingered and off balance. But Cas's hands are on his shoulders, holding him steady, and Cas is watching with such affection and open admiration that it warms Dean straight through. He wants to kiss Cas, needs to kiss him.

And he's free to do so. He's free to do whatever the fuck he wants. And he wants to do Cas.

Cas makes a low noise, shuddering as Dean kisses him. "The human body," Cas says, his bare chest pressed against Dean's, "is truly my father's greatest accomplishment."

"Hold on." Dean clasps the back of Cas's neck. "No talk of fathers during sex. It's just wrong."

"Dean, my father intended humans to have sex. A lot of sex." Cas rubs against Dean so that Dean can feel his erect cock. "That's why he made it feel so good."

"No talk of God, either," Dean insists, but he grabs Cas by the hips and pushes his own cock against Cas's skin. "Unless--unless its the 'oh god, don't stop' kind of talk."

An annoyed huff and Cas asks, "Are there any more rules I need to be aware of before we continue?"

"Do whatever feels good," Dean instructs. "As long as the other person doesn't say 'ow, stop it'."

Cas's expression turns quizzical as he processes this and Dean takes the opportunity to kiss him. And then, it's on.

Dean can't touch Cas enough, he runs his hands down Cas's back and over his hips and back up his stomach. He's taller than Cas, but Cas is bigger than the women he's been with, more solid, and the difference is fascinating. He kisses Cas's neck and shoulders, all muscle and bone and with an impatient noise, Cas drags him over to the bed. Cas is weirdly strong, and when Cas flips him flat on his back with one hand, Dean finds it insanely hot, moaning as he pulls Cas over over him, all heavy body and eager cock. Dean rocks his hips, it's clumsy and needy and primal, frantic kisses and the slick slide of sweaty skin--Cas is sweating, dampness pooling at the small of his back and the noises he's making sound very human to Dean's ears.

"Okay, okay," Dean whispers, pushing Cas off to one side with difficulty. If Cas finds the simple press of naked bodies awe-inspiring, then Dean can't wait to show him more, show him what humans do, and do pretty damn well. And while Dean may not have a whole lot of experience with guys, he does know how to get a guy off.

Dean props himself up on one arm, licks his palm and wraps his hand around Cas's dick. When he strokes, Cas grabs Dean's shoulder and groans, hips moving.

"Good, eh?" Dean asks, knowing damn well that it is.

Cas nods breathlessly, he looks completely wasted, lost in the sensation of being touched. Dean slides closer, kissing him. Cas's mouth is wet and hot and he keeps making those fucking noises and Dean loves it, thinks maybe he can get off just on those noises alone. He even loves the feel of Cas's cock in his hand, the hard, solid length of it and maybe he's more into guys than he realized. Or maybe he's just into Cas.

With a startled gasp, Cas jerks against him, buries his face in Dean's neck and comes all over Dean's hand. Dean strokes him through it, gently, wringing out the last bit of pleasure. When Cas's shudders finally subside, Dean simply rests his hand over Cas's wet cock, letting Cas pant warmly against his neck.

Cas lifts his head, vaguely awestruck. "I had no idea." He stares at Dean, almost accusingly, as if the wonder of sex was a big secret Dean had been keeping from him.

Dean grins. Yeah, he's just that good. "Oh, we're just getting started, cowboy." He wipes his hand on a corner of the sheet and Cas doesn't look quite so angelic with a big smear of come on his hip. "You'll be amazed at the things we can do."

"I am not a complete innocent, Dean." Cas runs his hand down Dean's stomach and curls it around Dean's cock. "I have been observing humans for a very long time."

Delicate fingers slide over hard flesh, and Dean's hips jerk when Cas runs his thumb over the head. He licks his hand as Dean did, then puts it back on Dean's cock and fuck, it's perfect. Sheer pleasure, coiling tighter with every stroke. Dean gasps and wriggles closer and god, he needed this.

"Am I doing this right?" Cas is watching, waiting for an answer, a hint of a grin on his lips.

"Yeah," Dean manages between gasps. "You're--it's--oh fuck that's good."

Cas nods, apparently satisfied by Dean's garbled answer. He gives a little squeeze and Dean falls back against the pillows, spreading his legs and pushing into Cas's fist. With Cas's eyes on him he feels more naked than ever, yet there's nothing left to hide, Cas knows exactly who and what he's had to do, all his dark secrets and yet, here they are together, despite everything that's gone before.

Dean moans, twists his hands in the sheets and arches his back, Cas is keeping a slow, steady pace and it's making him crazy, he wants it faster, needs it faster, needs more pressure. When Cas slides down next to him and licks his throat, Dean moans again and pulls Cas into a harsh kiss, a clash of teeth and lips. And then it's all too much and Dean comes and it's fucking fantastic.

He has no idea why he's waited so long to do this.

Dean has to stop Cas's hand when it's all over, Cas slows down but doesn't know when to stop and Dean's twitchy and oversensitive when he pulls Cas's hand away. But still, he can't stop grinning, he just had sex with a fucking angel of the lord and that? That is pretty damn awesome.

"Congratulations," Dean says when he can speak again. "You're no longer a virgin."

"I am very grateful," Cas says, and Dean's pretty sure he's being a smart-ass.

Dean laughs. He feels relieved. A little giddy maybe. Closing his eyes, he stretches his legs out and sighs contentedly. When he opens them again, Cas hasn't moved, he is still watching Dean thoughtfully, eyes heavy-lidded.

"This is the part where we chill out for a bit," Dean explains.

Cas nods, but does not move.

Dean rolls his eyes. "You're going to just watch me lay here?"

"You are very beautiful," Cas tells him.

"Shut up." Dean shifts on the bed, embarrassed. He scratches his stomach where semen is drying on his skin. "You could make yourself useful and go get me a towel," he says, changing the subject.

Cas glances up, peering into the bathroom. He lifts a hand and a towel lands in it.

It's like having sex with a superhero.

Cas offers him the towel and Dean cleans himself off. After a moment he cleans Cas off, too, then runs a hand over Cas's chest, still getting used to the feel of it--a man's naked chest, flat and hairy with little freckles every here and there. Dean expects to see the scars of the banishing sigil Cas had carved into his own skin, but Cas's chest is smooth and unmarked. Of course, it's a new body, remade by God after Lucifer exploded him. Burst him like a bloody balloon, bits of Cas splattered all over the cemetery.

His hand falters and Cas places his own over it.

"You keep blowing up and coming back," Dean says in a tight voice. He clears his throat, then presses his mouth to Cas's shoulder.

"Apparently, God still had a purpose for me."

Dean bumps his forehead against Cas's chest. "Must you keep bringing up God?"

"Yes, Dean. I must." There's a low rumble deep inside Cas. Laughter. Dean likes it.

"Okay. Yes, God's purpose for you is to get down and dirty with Dean Winchester." Dean nuzzles the crook of Cas's neck. "That's one heck of a holy mission."

"Perhaps you are my reward," Cas says.

"Then God definitely has a sense of humor, you poor bastard."

Cas pushes Dean flat on the bed and kisses the center of his chest, directly over the new sigil. "This is meant to be, Dean."

Dean squirms, fuck, he's getting turned on all over again, especially when Cas moves to suck on a spot of sensitive skin over his ribs. "But isn't all this all some kind of mortal sin? Angel and a human? Or two guys being together? Pick either one." Not that Dean cares. But he doesn't want anything or anyone coming after Cas.

Cas raises his head, his gaze sure and steady as he meets Dean's eyes. "Love is never a sin, Dean," he admonishes gently.

"Huh," Dean says. "Okay." He nods, and tries not to panic. It shouldn't come as such a surprise. After all Cas has given up for him, after all they've been through together, Dean should have known.

Cas is still watching, waiting. Eternally patient. And maybe Dean does feel the same way but he's a little overwhelmed just the same so he reaches for Cas, kissing him with a vengeance. No more talking, just kissing, and Dean hopes Cas understands what he's trying to say.

Maybe Cas does, because with a soft exhalation Cas relaxes, tension leaving his shoulders. He stretches out over Dean and Dean spreads his legs, letting Cas slide down in between. Slow, steady friction as Cas rocks against him and Dean lets it all go, he simply holds onto Cas and doesn't think about anything other than how good it feels, Cas warm and alive against him, the soft, gentle kisses. There's no rush to the finish, just an easy climb and after it's all over, Dean drops off to sleep, content and secure.

***

Dean wakes during the night and he's alone in bed. He looks around the room. No Cas anywhere at all. He grumbles into his pillow, "Love 'em and leave 'em, Cas?" But Cas will be back. He knows it now, right down to his soul. Soon he falls back to sleep.

When he wakes again it's morning. Sunlight streams through the window, birds are singing, and Cas is by the window, completely naked, looking out at the sky.

"Hey," Dean croaks, his voice rusty from sleep. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Dean." Cas's lean body is glowing, kissed by sunlight and Dean admires it openly. He enjoys the view even more when Cas approaches the bed, completely comfortable in his nakedness.

"Thought maybe you left and went back to heaven for a while," Dean tells him.

"No," Cas says with a small smile. He pulls the covers back from Dean, exposing him. "I won't be doing that. Not for a long time."

"What? What's up?" Always so damn cryptic.

"Raphael tells me that because of my time here on earth, I've grown too fond of humanity." Cas gazes thoughtfully at Dean's body. "That I've been 'contaminated'."

"Did you tell him to suck it?" Dean asks, indignant on Cas's behalf.

"No." Cas climbs on the bed and straddles Dean's hips. "I agreed with him."

Dean reaches out as Cas settles onto him, a solid weight on his hips, Cas's erect cock brushing his stomach. "You--you what?"

"I told him I couldn't possibly serve in heaven any longer. I resigned my position."

Dean stills his hands. "You resigned?"

Cas smiles.

It's beautiful. He's beautiful.

"I choose to live among humans in all their dirty, brawling glory," Cas says, hands moving over Dean's chest. "Than a bunch of self-righteous dicks who can't make a decision because they don't even know what hell they want."

"Seriously? Did you actually say that?" Dean asks. "Please tell me that you did."

"No," Cas cocks his head to one side. "Not in so many words."

"And you can just do that, leave the job?"

Cas nods. "Yes, Dean, I can."

Laughter bubbles up in Dean from deep down inside. "I told you it was a bad idea." He pokes Cas, pleased. "So, you're not heaven's bitch anymore."

"No, not heaven's." Cas looms over him, hands planted on the bed on either side of his body.

"Wait, wait," Dean says, before Cas can kiss him. "You knew this--you knew this yesterday. In the car, when you talked about changing your mind."

"Yes."

"And you waited until now to tell me?" Dean is more curious than annoyed.

"I needed to be certain," Cas nuzzles Dean's cheek, "that it was something you were ready to hear."

"Cas." Dean pulls him down and holds onto him, pressing his face against Cas's neck.

"So," Cas says, voice muffled. "You're not going to run screaming into the night?"

"Nah," Dean says easily. "Takes too much effort. And it's morning, anyway."

A huff of laughter against his shoulder, and Cas slides a hand down onto Dean's hip.

The phone rings, startling Dean. He grunts and reaches for it, still holding Cas flat against his chest. It's Sam.

"Breakfast in fifteen, you sleepy head," Sam says cheerily.

"Make it twenty," Dean insists. "There's something I've got to do first."

He hangs up the phone and kisses Cas.

***

Twenty five minutes later he meets Sam in the coffeeshop, Cas in tow. "Not a word," Dean says, pointing a finger at Sam.

Sam nods, but he's dimpled and grinning like hell at them both.

But really, it was warm out, and there was no need for the trench coat and suit jacket and tie. Seeing Cas settle in at the table in rolled up shirtsleeves is worth any of Sam's razzing.

"Guess who quit his day job?" Dean announces as he slides into the seat across from Sam.

Sam frowns, confused. "Who?"

"Cas."

"What? You're kidding? Cas?" Sam turns to Cas. "What's going on?"

"He likes earth better," Dean says, before Cas can open his mouth. He doesn't say and me, too, but Dean's pretty sure that Sam hears it.

The waitress comes by, an older woman with a pen tucked behind her ear. She calls them 'hon' and pours their coffee before Dean can even ask. They place their orders and just to bedevil Sam, Dean stretches out the process, asking just how many pigs are in the blanket, and can he have a side of bacon with that, extra crispy please, and what kind of pastries are available? He grins as he sees Sam fidgeting, clearly dying to ask more questions but won't, not with the waitress there.

When she finally leaves, Sam bursts out, "Really? Cas, you can simply quit?"

"It was agreed by all involved that I'm better suited to do God's work here on earth," Cas explains.

"God's work?" Sam raises his eyebrows. "Is that what they're calling it now?"

Cas's eyes shift downward and he stares at his place setting as if his knife and fork and paper placemat are the most fascinating items on earth. "There's actual work to be done, along with--with, more pleasurable pursuits." A sideways glance at Dean.

Sam grins. "You do know how annoying my brother is, right? I mean, like, really annoying?"

"Hey," Dean says, indignant.

Cas nods. "Yes, believe me, I am well acquainted with that aspect of your brother's personality. He is also contrary and obstinate."

Sam tilts his cup toward Cas. "Right."

"Hey, the brother in question is right here," Dean interjects sharply.

Sam grins at him, and Dean scowls. Sam's grin only broadens. Before Dean can say anything more--he is so not obstinate, contrary, maybe; but obstinate, no way--the waitress arrives with their breakfast. Dean is reminded that he's starving, and digs in with gusto.

"So," Sam asks, sipping his coffee. "What's next, Dean?"

"I was thinking more pie, for dessert," Dean says around a mouthful of pancakes.

"Dean," Sam says, shaking his head.

"Are you truly giving up this hunt?" Cas asks Sam.

"There's nothing to give up on." Sam shrugs. "There's nothing out there. Except whitefish and trout."

"Don't remind me," Dean says, spearing a sausage with his fork. "I am so not cut out for fishing."

"I guess we'll find something real to hunt," Sam says without much enthusiasm.

"Or," Dean says, gulping a mouthful of coffee. "we go on vacation." A snap decision, but as soon as Dean says it, it sounds like a damn good idea. "Hell, I've always wanted to see the world. After all, we did save it. So we should check it out."

Sam laughs. "Right, Dean."

"No, no, I mean it, Sammy. We take a couple months, do some traveling, and when we're done, maybe we go back to hunting, maybe we don't." Dean's fairly sure that they can't avoid it, that hunting will find them if they don't go back to it. "Let's face it, we need a break."

"You're serious about this, aren't you?" Sam asks.

Dean nods. "Sammy, I'm--you were right. I'm not, I'm not ready to dive back in to life yet, you know?" It feels good to say it out loud, to acknowledge that he's not whole. He glances over at Cas, who is watching him with compassion, and this time, Dean's willing to let him. Just this once.

Sam leans forward. "I think it's a great idea. Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere you want. Cas, you willing to provide some transportation? I don't think I can drive the Impala overseas. And damn it, I hate flying."

Cas sits up straight. "I'd be happy to do so." He nudges Dean's foot.

Dean nods. "There you have it. We'll head back to Bobby's, gather up some money, and go."

"I can't believe we're actually going to do this." Sam laughs, shaking his head.

"You in?" Dean asks, even though he knows the answer.

"I'm in," Sam says.

***

"All right," Dean says as they load up the car. "Let's get the hell out of Dodge. You coming, Cas, or are you going to meet us at Bobby's?"

Cas is staring out past the stand of trees, his eyes on the water.

"Yo, Cas?"

Cas turns to him. "Before we leave, I wish to show you something." He spreads his arms out.

Before Dean can speak, he's been transported. Wind hits his face, the ground is wet and slippery and there is clear blue water all around, lapping at his feet. He grabs Cas's arm to keep from falling in and sees Sam on the other side of Cas, doing the same. "What the hell?"

"Shh," says Cas.

They're on a small rocky outcropping, barely above the water level. "Cas?" Dean wonders if he should be freaking out or not.

"I visited with St. Francis last night, while you were sleeping. We had a fascinating discussion," Cas points out over the water. "Ah. There--"

"Dean," Sam says excitedly at the same time.

Dean looks out and sees something in the water, it's getting larger and larger as it rises out of the water. A long thin neck, glistening in the late morning sun, and a body, with--with fins. Long feathery fins.

"Holy shit," Dean says, panicking. He tries to step back but there's no place to go, they're surrounded by water. "How do we kill it?"

"Dean." Cas's tone is gentle. "It's not a monster."

"Right," Dean says. "It sure as hell looks like a monster." The thing is fucking huge, and it's diving beneath the surface, creating barely a ripple.

"It's simply one of my father's creations. A rare, wondrous creature of the deep water," Cas explains. "It poses no threat. It has harmed no one. It is merely...different."

The creature has disappeared completely. Dean tries to make out a shadow in the water, but he can't see anything, it's too deep. "It certainly looks like a threat. A really big one and where the hell did it go?"

"Wait, I think I see something," Sam says. "Oh my god, look--"

Cas hushes them again. "It is very skittish. Easily spooked." He's watching Dean now, and gives Dean's arm a squeeze. "But if you are careful, it will come close to you. They are beautiful to behold."

The water breaks, directly in front of them. Dean holds his breath as a dark head rises up. It's less then five feet away and Dean can make out its face, dark round eyes, pointed snout, and--

Whiskers? Dean frowns.

Like a cat's. A giant cat, except this cat has iridescent green scales that catch the light, sparkling. It glides closer, tilts its head to one side and Dean can see the nostrils twitching as it sniffs them. Dean hopes fervently they don't smell like dinner. Beyond the head and neck, Dean can see the long stretch of the creature, small ridges breaking the surface of the water. It's at least thirty feet long.

A ripple of water next to him, and another head comes up. There's a second creature, and it bumps up against the first, rubbing it's head against the neck of the other.

"Multiple heads," Sam says under his breath.

Dean grins, he can't take his eyes off them, watching in wonder they glide through the water. They're strange yet beautiful, and Cas is right, they might be big but they're not so scary after all. He slides an arm around Cas's waist, leaning against him as the creatures dive beneath the surface, disappearing with a final splash of their tails only to return again, a little further away.

Dean thinks they might be playing. "Awesome," he says, laughing as one twines around the other, both rolling over as they dip back under the water again.

"Yes," Cas agrees. "Very much so."

Dean looks over to find that is Cas smiling at him, not looking at the creatures at all. Dean laughs, shakes his head, then leans in and kisses him, right on the lips.

"Oh, way to spoil the experience, Dean," Sam says.

"Shut up, freak." Dean grins over Cas's shoulder at Sam. "I love you too, you know."