AN: So. A Coda to 6.10. So SPOILERS!



Now, here's the thing. Season 6? In my opinion? Suckage. MAJOR suckage. I might go so far as to use the word epic. Robo-Sam, while amusing at times, is getting on my nerves, Dean has upped his emo to absolutely TRAUMATISING levels which even I'M having troubles handling (and seriously, you should see some of the people I've dated in the past 0_o), Bobby barely gets any face time 'cause the writers are too busy trying to cram Grandpa-Skinner down our throats and Crowley…oh lord don't get me started on the lost potential of Crowley...

Long story short. I am not a happy camper. But it was fine - I was gritting my teeth and hoping against hope that the season redeemed itself in the last half and things were BEARABLE because at least they hadn't messed with Cas.

Yeah. Notice how I used the past tense there?

You all know the part I'm talking about. It's the kiss that split the damn fandom and while I could have a good long rant about it these author's notes are already getting a bit lengthy. So let me just say this: Writers. Dudes. Of everyone, EVERYONE in the supernatural-verse you could have Cas kiss, you chose a freaking DEMON? The creatures Cas frequently seems to be trying to light on fire with his glare while he calls them "abomination"? And not just any demon - oh no - you chose the one responsible for Jo and Ellen's deaths? Really writers? Are you that desperate for a freaking Castiel-gag-moment?


Anyway. This fic - this is my coping mechanism. 'Cause while I can't change what happened I can certainly try to find a bright side to it. Or y'know, carve one out of the mass of trauma ep 10 caused me.

AN UPDATE (22.12): Thankyou to all who have reviewed, thanked or otherwise yelled at me - it really makes a girl feel the love :) Now, as many, MANY of you have asked - there WILL very likely be a follow on to this. Not sure yet if I'm going to just add another chapter or put it up as a sequel. Either way, my plan is to wait until the new episodes in Jan to see what else the show throws at us. Until then I'm going to be busy planning up sequels to another of my fics (*cough*Tripping*cough*) and perhaps squeezing a bit of time in on my OWN original novel (dedication thy name is...). So yes - thank you again! Y'all made my day by proving I wasn't the only one out there capable of epic fangirl ranting :P Cheers xx

Disclaimer: I don't own the show or characters. I simply fangirl all over them and occasionally sling mud when I think they're treated badly.

Sam gone, Samuel more than likely gunning for revenge, Lisa's phone number burning an everlasting hole in his pocket...

Yeah. Life was shit. Complete and utter. Dean thought, more than a little sardonically, that this deserved a celebration. Specifically the death-by-whiskey kind. And so, on his way back from Hell Prison he'd picked himself up not one, but three bottles of forty-year-old scotch. The better to make a day, night or possibly week of it. To his mind, if he could pick himself up off the floor come this time tomorrow he hadn't done his job fucking properly.

The plan started off well. He was halfway through bottle one and the universe had clawed itself to a slightly less shit-filled section of the gutter by providing him with a Dr Sexy marathon. But, as per-fucking-usual the peace didn't last. That the breaking of it was heralded by the familiar beating of unseen wings was hardly surprising either.

Fucking angels.

"Hello Dean."

Fucking Cas.

"If you've come to watch more porn you're out of luck," Dean declared, not looking away from the TV. "Dr Sexy's on."

"I have not come to watch porn," Cas replied, his stoic seriousness completely out of whack with the subject as per usual. Dean was mildly irritated to note that it still caused him a little hitch of amusement - a damn shadow of the glee he'd once found with the angel's antics but it was there. Not cool. He was in frickin' hate-the-world mode god-dammit, shit had no right trying to cheer him up.

Dean took an angry swig of whiskey, almost downing the glass in one go. "Why are you here Cas?"

To his immense surprise, he felt the bed dip and Dean looked over sharply to find Cas had perched himself on the end of the of the damn thing beside him, eyes steadfast on the TV. The fuck?

"I saw that Sam has left," Cas explained, eyes studying Dr Sexy with a determination that was far from casual. It was the sort of move Sam might have made, back in the day - bringing up a sensitive topic without forcing it on Dean with a stare to boot. It was also far too surreal having it come from Cas - the guy who used to pop in three inches away from people in the freaking bathroom. Dean watched incredulously as Cas's eyes ticked to his almost hesitantly. Fucking hesitantly for gods-sake. "I wanted to make sure that you were...okay."

It must have been the alcohol but fucking hell Dean really didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Or maybe shoot something.

He settled for a strangled scoff and, pushing up off the bed - with only a slight stagger fuckyouverymuch - he headed for the freezer. More ice - that's exactly what this situation warranted. Anything really, to keep him reaching for a gun. "That's rich," he threw over his shoulder as he yanked the freezer open with a slightly-more-violent-than-necessary tug. "You gave two rats-asses the last time Sam left."

"I don't understand that expr-"

"You didn't fucking care!" Dean growled, spinning around. And yeah, so he may have been a bit on the deranged side but what-the-hell, one bottle almost down and all that. He glared into Cas's unblinking blue gaze for a long moment before turning furiously back to the bench, slamming his glass down with a force that he was surprised didn't shatter the thing.

The silence stretched, broken only by Dr Piccolo declaring her undying love to Dr Sexy yet again as Dean cracked the ice and for a second he almost thought he was going to turn around to find Cas gone. Hell, it wouldn't have been the first time. But when he turned, glass in hand, the angel hadn't moved, eyes still very blue and very serious as he stared back at Dean.

"I cared," Cas said finally, voice pitched low enough that Dean almost had to lean forward to hear him. "But my place was Heaven." Dean's eyes began their roll before Cas's next words almost had him dropping his glass. "And when I came back-"

"Came back?" Dean interrupted, eyes narrowing. "You never fucking came back."

Cas's eyes seemed to fix on him then and Dean sucked in a breath despite himself. He'd almost forgotten just how freaking intense the guy could be sometimes. "I did," Cas said surely. "You were on the phone. Talking to Bobby."

Oh. Dean swallowed. Oh fuck. He knew exactly which conversation Cas was talking about. His last to Bobby - just two weeks after Sam's fall. He'd been a wreck - staggering through his days blindly, drinking twenty-four seven. And he just...he hadn't been able to do it - hadn't been able to keep up the weekly phone-calls to the old hunter anymore...

"Bobby, I just - I just want to forget - I want to forget it all…"

He'd said goodbye to Bobby and he'd packed away his jacket and gun. He'd put his Baby under that god-awful tarp and he'd turned into Dean Winchester, family man. It'd been an act of utter desperation. And Cas had seen it. Had seen it and understood...

"I was a reminder you didn't want," Cas explained needlessly. And while his voice was as serious as ever Dean couldn't really help but notice the very slight note of - fucking hell – of feeling behind the words. Dean turned back to the bench, depositing his glass before he freaking dropped it, his grip finding the bench-edge almost automatically and gripping. Hard.

"I'm sorry if I misunderstood..." Cas continued behind him and Dean shook his head, teeth gritting. And then…he sighed. Because fuck. Just…fuck. What the hell was he supposed to do with that? For the longest time he'd thought Cas had taken off – without a care, like the last two years hadn't happened. And now...


Dean scrubbed his hands down his face - wishing he could scrub away the last three freaking years. Then...then he grabbed another glass from the rack.

Cas was frowning when he turned back, brow furrowing in what might have been worry as Dean crossed the room and held the second filled glass out to him. The angel's eyes widened slightly at that and Dean had to fight an actual smirk as Cas eyed the glass like Dean was trying to hand him a pink elephant or some shit.

"Take it," Dean ordered and with one last dubious glance Cas did, freeing Dean up to re-claim his seat on the bed. One episode of Dr Sexy was coming to a close and another was beginning. How freaking appropriate. Dean downed a mouthful of whiskey as the instrumental theme music filtered through the motel room – bouncing off the ramshackle walls with a sad sort of familiarity.

And for a time there was silence between them. Cas had taken one tentative sip of his drink but otherwise left it untouched – even so, Dean thought it was something. Pity it wasn't making the silence any less freaking awkward.

Dean cleared his throat. "We can watch something else," he offered. Then his mouth went and continued without checking in with his damn brain first. "Porn even."

Oh. Holy. FUCK. Dean could actually feel his face heat up.

Then - thank everything holy - Cas shook his freaking angelic head, mouth curling down in distaste. "I don't like porn," he declared and Dean snorted, honestly not knowing if it was more out of mirth or relief.

"You seemed fine with it yesterday," he pointed out, shooting Cas a sideways look. To his surprise Cas's frown actually deepened until the angel was almost scowling at the TV.

"It is dishonest," Cas said harshly and there was only a slight hesitation before he took another sip of the whiskey this time.

Dean actually felt a grin tugging at his lips. An honest-to-god grin. After everything. Man, he hadn't realised how much he'd really missed this; this lightness that seemed to hit his chest whenever Cas was around. Say what you would about the angel, he was freaking amusing at times. "Dishonest?"

Cas grunted before downing the rest of his whiskey in one go. "The pizza man and the babysitter seemed to enjoy kissing a great deal," he explained. "When in reality it is far from pleasant."

For a full second all Dean could do was stare at Cas incredulously as the angel studied his empty glass. Then, very suddenly, he was laughing. A wracking bark of a laugh but a laugh none-the-less.

Cas turned his frown on him and Dean grinned. "You're saying Meg was a shitty kisser?" he struggled. And yeah – this was the most ridiculous conversation he'd ever had with Cas – and that was freaking saying something. He watched with glee as Cas's nose wrinkled as he seemed to think back to the experience.

"It was uncomfortable," he explained with distaste. "And it tasted of sulphur."

And Dean raised one eyebrow at that because…well, gross. Still chuckling he swiped the glass out of the Cas's hand and pushed himself to his feet. "Well you did go and mack on a demon," he declared as he headed for the bench and the dwindling bottle of whiskey. "What did you expect?"

"You are saying that kissing a human would be different?" Cas asked from the bed, voice a hilarious mix of curiosity and dubiousness.

Dean snorted as he splashed the last of the bottle into the glasses. "Hell yeah it'd be different – kissing is awesome."

And so yeah, he'd had an awful lot to drink - it was probably his only excuse for not realising what would happen next. Because this was freaking CAS he was talking to after all – the guy who'd declared his father wasn't to be found on flat-bread with no hint of sarcasm in his voice at all.

Even so, Dean very nearly dropped the glasses when he turned back to find Cas about three inches away from him. "Cas what the-" But he never got to finish. Because Cas was suddenly leaning in and the guy's lips were on his and he was being mother-fucking KISSED by an angel of the friggin' lord. There weren't even enough swear words in the universe for this freaking situation.

Dean froze solid. He had a serious suspicion that rocks would have made a chinking sound if thrown at him right then. And Cas just...kissed, a light press of lips on lips – nothing like the heinous visual he and Meg had engaged in thank god but somehow managing to be as utterly terrifying and about ten times as affecting…

Then, as suddenly as it'd begun it was over - Cas was pulling away, a slight furrow to his brow as he cocked his head. And Dean had forgotten how to fucking breathe. Seriously. Cas definitely didn't help matters a second later when he licked a freaking stripe across his own damn bottom lip - like he was trying to recall a fucking TASTE.

Dean opened his mouth but nothing came out. His brain was freaking BROKEN, seriously. Then Cas beat him to it with a slight hum - a hum for fuck-sake - like he was rating the experience in his head or some shit.

And it was about then that Dean fully realised what the damn angel would be rating him against. Or rather who.

Oh HELL no.

In retrospect it was mostly the alcohol that did it. Sure there was a pinch of pride in there somewhere - pride that wouldn't allow him to EVER come up wanting next to a freaking DEMON for god-sake - but in the end it was the buzz in his head that really allowed him to throw the little slice of common sense still surviving into a proverbial dark room and lock the door.

Because this was him versus freaking MEG. And he did NOT lose to the likes of that bitch.

The glasses smashing against the ground barely registered as he fisted twin handfuls of Cas's ever-present trench-coat and yanked the angel around. It was testament to how surprised Cas must have been with the action that Dean could move him at all, the angel normally proving a very literal immovable object. As it was Cas only managed a surprised huff as Dean shoved him bodily against the kitchen bench and then Dean…well, Dean went to friggin' TOWN.

Cas's lips were surprisingly soft under his own, something that might have given Dean pause if he weren't on such a mission. As it was, he was forced to concede the experience wasn't nearly as horrific as he thought kissing a dude ought to be in a fleeting sort of way, focusing instead on catching Cas's bottom lip with a gentle pressure and swiping his tongue across the very spot the angel himself had fixated on a moment ago. Cas made a noise at that, a startled sound in the back of his throat even as his body seemed to take the cue for what it was, lips parting slightly as his breath hitched.

And it was all the welcome Dean needed. He licked into Cas's mouth with determination as one hand traveled an automatic path up to hook behind the angel's neck, angling the kiss and pressing closer and fuck, he didn't know if it was the whiskey or just Cas but the angel's heat was suddenly a physical thing around him; burning into him; branding...

Dean's head spun and for a second he thought he was going to fall before suddenly there were hands, hot and steady on his hips, gripping hard and pulling him in. And Cas was kissing back. Fucking hell was he kissing back – an incredible play of teeth and tongue that was just completely insane considering who it was employing them. Dean's hand fisted in Cas's hair and whether he was trying to take control or just hold the fuck on Dean had no idea. Because Cas certainly seemed to have picked up quite a bit with his one freaking viewing of porn.

And his one previous go practicing.

The memory of Meg pressed to the wall of the prison, dark hair a stark contrast to Cas's pale hand tangled in it was a wholly unpleasant one. It hit Dean with a sickening jolt of something very like rage; a feeling that pooled in his gut and flooded his veins until Dean felt poisoned with it. The growl that split the silence was hardly human and the fact it'd come from him might have given Dean pause if he'd been anywhere near capable of stopping to think. But he wasn't and he didn't. Instead he put the grip he already had on Cas's hair to fucking good use.

One sharp yank was all it took and the sound Cas made when their lips broke contact was halfway between a gasp and a protest. It turned into something entirely different when Dean trailed his mouth across Cas's jaw to the angel's neck before latching on and sucking hard. Hard enough to make Cas buck against him, a ragged groan tumbling from the angel even as Dean used his own hips to keep Cas trapped against the bench.

Which was a massive fucking mistake.

Because while Dean had been riding the waves of alcohol and instinct, unthinking and out of control there was suddenly absolutely no way he could deny what was happening. Not with Cas's hardness pressing against his own, the pressure a delicious slide that sparked low and hot.

It was like a baseball bat to the side of his head. Dean staggered with it, yanking away from Cas's heat with a hard jolt of desperation until his back hit the opposite bench. And he clung there, staring, breath harsh and far too loud in the sudden silence and jesus fucking christ he was having a freaking HEART attack or something...

And Cas - Cas stared back - eyes wide and almost drowned black; tie completely askew and lips looking like he'd just gone ten rounds with a porn star. The guy looked like he'd been fucking attacked. Which, Dean supposed, he pretty much had been.

What the HELL...

As he watched, Cas raised one hand to his own neck, fingertips finding the blossoming hickey first go and Dean swallowed harshly at the sight of it. There was no getting around that one. No pretending it was a freaking smudge that's for damn sure. The edges of it were dark and angry-looking - unmistakable and harsh. Dean sucked in a ragged breath. What in the hell had POSSESSED him for fucks-sake?

For the second time that night words failed him when he opened his mouth. And then very suddenly it didn't matter. With a heavy beat of wings Cas was gone. And Dean was left staring at the shitty motel wallpaper, trying and failing to remember when exactly he'd lost his damn mind.