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Dean moaned in unashamed relief at the sight of the dingy motel bed, tossing his jacket on the side table and running his fingers through his hair. He grimaced as they came away slimy and sticky. God, he hated ghouls. Bracing against the wall, he toed off his boots, nearly missing the flap-snap! of wings and trench coat. He turned, smiling.
“Cas---!,” The remainder of his, no doubt, witty quip was lost as the serious angel crowded into what was left of Dean's personal space, pressing two fingers against his forehead. Dean squeezed his eyes shut, preparing instinctively for the disorientation and sinking-falling sensation that came with angelic insta-travel. It didn't come.
Easing his eyes open he sought Cas' tilted gaze as he stared at Dean in that bird-curious way of his. Cas’ name was a whispered question cut off as the angel's fingers moved across his brow to be joined by a third finger and then a fourth, tracing down, over, across his right temple, stopping at last to cup Dean's cheek, a thumb moving through the evening's grime in a soft caress.
“Dean…,” His name was a reverent exhale that cracked the hunter’s heart and snared him in the lightning blue of Castiel's eyes, watching helplessly as they spilled unspoken secrets into the air around them. A pair of lips slotted against his pressing gently...gently……gently. His eyes drifted closed, breath sharp and painful as he made his vocal chords work.
“Cas…I…we…,” His words slipped out in a jumble. A kiss left its brand on his forehead. Dean felt his mouth tremble, clenched his hands. Another kiss to his jawline, whisper soft.
“We talked about this, Cas,” his voice broke, “We can't---I, I can't…,” He pushed down what might've been a sob or, perhaps, just cracked ribs. Cas' low, even cadence surrounded him.
“Can't? Won't?...Don't?” Dean's eyes blazed as they met Castiel's again.
“Never,” he vowed, fingers twitching, itching, needing.
“Never that, Cas.” The angel nodded, expression and stance unchanged in contrast to Dean's labored breathing and wrecked expression. It was too much and Dean couldn't stop a whimper escaping as Cas leaned in again, just barely brushing their lips together.
“Cas, please…,” His barely audible plea shattered on the floor between them. Unblinking green met unblinking blue, terrified, desperate. Cas stepped back.
“I will leave you now.” Between one breath and the next he was gone. The mark on Dean's arm burned, his ribs tingled, his stomach and teeth clenched, and his body was shaking, sHakIng, SHAkiNG…
“Dean, wake up! Dean!”
Dean's eyes opened and he tensed, breathing hard as he looked at Lisa crouched over him, one hand gently rubbing his shoulder, her eyes worried. He forced a shaky smile that was more bravado than anything.
“Hey, what's up?” he asked. Lisa frowned.
“You were dreaming. It sounded…painful.” Dean quirked an eyebrow.
“Really? I don't even remember what I was dreaming about.” She withdrew, brow furrowed now.
“Are you sure, Dean?”
“Positive. C'mere.” He pulled her close, kissing the top of her head. She glanced up at him.
“You know you can talk to me about anything, right? No matter what it is?”
“Course I know that, sweetheart,” he answered, giving her a brief squeeze, “but there's nothing right now, so let's get some sleep.”
He felt her nod and then relax as she drifted off again. Sleep came less readily to Dean, but at last his eyes closed of their own accord as he exhaled his final thought.
“Cas.”