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Apocalyptic Love Songs 6

“It’s just being human,” Dean said. “Which, like it or not, you kind of are.”

“I am not,” Castiel said. “I’m not really an angel anymore, either. I’m something in between.”

“But when you go home –”

“I will know what I have lost.” He propped himself up on his elbow. “Don’t you see, Dean? Why do you suppose I was chosen to fetch you out of Hell?” Dean watched him, his eyes wide and his lips parted, and Castiel said in a broken tone, “I have known you all of your life, longer than your life. I have always loved you as a child of my Father. But from the moment I put on this body I have loved you as one man to another, and it is killing me.”

“No,” Dean said, taking Castiel’s face in his hands, “no, it’s not killing you. It’s bringing you to life,” and he kissed Castiel hard and fierce.

Castiel whimpered and wound his arms around Dean’s neck. His lips parted at the touch of Dean’s tongue, and when Dean stroked his tongue along Castiel’s, Castiel clutched at his hair and pushed Dean into his back. He kissed Dean desperately, his hands framing Dean’s face and moving down his chest.

“Ow,” Dean muttered into his mouth, moving his thigh from under Castiel’s knee, and Castiel backed off, breathing hard.

“I am sorry. I have hurt you.”

“It’s okay. I swear it’s okay.” He pulled Castiel back to him by the hips. “C’mere.”

Castiel lay on top of him again, much more carefully than before, and leaned on his arms. He dipped his head and kissed Dean with what Dean could only call reverence, and it made him smile. He tugged open Castiel’s tie so he could unbutton his collar and taste his throat, and then unbuttoned his shirt and kissed down Castiel’s chest. Castiel whimpered and threw back his head, his eyes closed and his face flushing. He brought Dean’s mouth back to his and kissed him, so Dean slid his hand down Castiel’s chest and hip to palm between his legs. Castiel trembled and groaned, and pulled away to lie on his back. His eyes were wide and he gasped for breath as he ran his hand over his face.

“What?” Dean said, pushing himself up. “What’s wrong?”

“This,” Castiel said. “This is wrong. This is not my body, Dean.”

“Oh,” Dean said, deflated. “Yeah. I kind of forgot.”

“As did I.” He turned away from Dean to sit up and hang his legs over the edge of the bed, and he raked a hand through his hair. “I cannot use the body for this, no matter how much I want to.”

“So . . . no sex at all?” Castiel shook his head, and Dean said vehemently, “This sucks, Cas.”

“I know.”

“Because I really — I mean –” He huffed in frustration. “Damn it, why’d you have to be so hot?”

Castiel ducked his head and smiled. “My vessel has beautiful parents.” He buttoned up his shirt.

“Yeah,” Dean muttered and held his forehead as he took a deep breath and let it out. “I’ve been thinking about this since yesterday, about you and me and what we want, and it never even occurred to me, that this isn’t your body. If you were in your own body –”

“I do not have my own body,” Castiel said quietly as he knotted his tie.

“Yeah. So we’re screwed. Only, completely not screwed. We’re . . . platonic.”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

Dean dropped his hand and looked at Castiel, who was methodically tying his shoes. “Cas? Would you, maybe, kiss me sometimes?”

Castiel looked at him and nodded. “Yes. I think that will be all right.”

“Like, maybe, now?”

Castiel leaned close and kissed him sweetly. Dean held Castiel by the collar so that their foreheads touched, and when Castiel finally pulled away he looked sorrowful and weary. “I only meant to be certain the amulet was working,” he said softly. “But here we are.”

“Don’t go, Cas. Stay with me a little longer.” Dean ran his hand up Castiel’s neck and brushed his fingers through Castiel’s hair. “Please.”

“If I stay –” He shook his head. “I long for you, Dean. I do. I miss you when we’re apart, and I live for the times I will see you again.”

Dean smiled at him, touched and pleased. “Me, too. Fuck, I miss you. This is just going to make it worse, isn’t it?”

Castiel closed his eyes a moment, then smiled at him again, rueful. “Rest and heal, Dean. I will see you soon.” He rose from the bed and put on his raincoat.

“Cas,” Dean said quickly, before he could disappear, and Castiel looked at him, waiting. “I, um. I –” He exhaled, frustrated. “Don’t be long, okay?”

“I will do my best, Dean,” Castiel said, and was gone in a flutter of invisible wings.

Dean groaned and threw himself back onto the bed, turned off the light and closed his eyes. He didn’t think he’d fall asleep quickly, but his body was still exhausted and he was asleep in moments.


In a motel in Minnesota, they say Bobby Singer woke early and checked the other bed for Sam. They say he was relieved when he saw Sam was still there, sound asleep. They say he didn’t know why he expected Sam to be gone.

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