Author's Note: So, as you will no doubt observe, this is a songfic written to the lyrics of Shadows by Gordon Lightfoot. I've always loved this song, and when I took up watching Supernatural I knew instantly that this song was simply made for Dean and Cas. I haven't caught up on all the back episodes, though, so that's part of why this has no real reference point or setting. On the plus side, no spoilers, so fun for all. Enjoy!

Warnings: Slash, citrus, and choking amounts of fluff. No, seriously, it'll give you cavities, it's so sweet.

Disclaimer: Alas, I do not own these two gorgeous fellows, nor do I own any of Supernatural: that is the property of the creative deity Mr Kripke himself. However, it was pretty much stated by evasion in an interview that Misha Collins ships Destiel, so I don't think anyone is too put out by my borrowing of these characters. I'll give them back, don't worry... and Dean's disposition will probably be much the better for it. ;-)

A.N.2: I know that there are many people in the Dragonlance and HP fandoms who are awaiting updates on my fics there: all I can say is that my life has been crazy this past while, and updates are coming soon. This fic was begging to be written, and it served to clear my mind somewhat, so hopefully my inspiration will return in full force very soon. Thank you for your patience, and all the support!

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Let me reach out love and touch you

Let me hold you for awhile

I've been all around the world

Oh how I long to see you smile

When Dean fled the confines of the hotel room, he knew where he would end up. Even though he had grabbed the keys to the Impala out of reflex, and he pulled out of the parking lot with no clear direction in mind, it felt as though it was only inevitable that he ended up pulling over on the side of the road a few miles out of town and shutting off the engine. Locking the door carefully, he tucked the keys into his pocket and set out through the woods, his heart heavy in his chest.

He and Sam had just had yet another fight, this one - unsurprisingly - about Dean's reckless habits. He'd gotten a bleeding gash across his chest when he jumped in front of a werewolf that was about to gut Sam, and the younger Winchester was less than impressed. The angry words they'd exchanged still echoed in his ears, and when he finally stumbled out of the night-dark woods and into a meadow clearing awash in pale moonlight, Dean tipped his head back and whispered a desperate plea to the star-strewn sky.

"Cas, I need you."

There's a shadow on the moon

And the waters here below

Do not shine the way they should

And I love you just in case you didn't know

With a rustle of wings, his angel was there, looking just as much the Holy Tax Accountant as ever with his loose blue tie and the infamous trenchcoat. His huge, too-blue eyes were concerned as he took in Dean's shattered look.

"Dean, what's wrong?"

"Sam." Dean said, his voice rough and choked. Castiel's expression softened, and he moved forward to wrap his arms around Dean. The hunter shivered and leaned into his angel's embrace, a single tear sliding down his cheek as he nestled into the warmth of his angel's arms. "I don't know what to do, Cas." he admitted softly, resting his head on Castiel's shoulder and closing his eyes. "I just want to keep him safe, and he won't let me."

"I know, Dean. I know."

Let it go,

Let it happen like it happened once before

It's a wicked wind

And it chills me to the bone

And if you do not believe me

Come and gaze upon the shadow at your door

Before Dean knew it he was crying: years of pain and sorrow and loss spilling out of him in a torrent, the stress of always being the strong older brother finally dragging him under. There was a rustle, then Castiel's black-feathered wings were folding around Dean as well, surrounding him in satin-soft warmth as his angel's hand stroked gently through his ruffled hair.

"Dean... it is not your fault that Sam is so often in danger. And it is not your fault that you are driven to protect him. It is in your blood to save people: you should never feel ashamed of that. It is what makes you so courageous, and so remarkable." Castiel's gravelly voice was low and tender as he soothed his charge. Dean let out a shuddering sigh, relaxing under the angel's gentle ministrations.

"Yeah, I know." he said softly after a moment. "It's just... it's hard. I've come so close to losing him so many times before - I just want to keep him safe."

"I know that, Dean - and Sam knows it too." Castiel gently tipped Dean's head back, gazing into the hunter's verdant green eyes. His blue, blue eyes were soft with compassion. "He understands. He simply does not wish for you to be hurt either."

Dean smiled sadly. "Yeah." There was a lost look in his eyes, like he had unraveled the knot only to find that the thread was cut a long time ago, and Castiel couldn't help but lean in closer to kiss the upset pout from his hunter's soft lips.

Won't you lie down by me baby

Run your fingers through my hands

I've been all around the town

And still I do not understand

Dean returned the kiss with gentle fervor, and he offered no resistance when Castiel drew him gently to the ground. The angel laid him gently on the soft green grass, lowering himself over the hunter, his wings arching to shelter them both as he let his weight settle onto Dean. They kissed for long moments, the soft pressure of lips teasing away memories of pain and suffering, the tender slide of questing tongues erasing the taste of fear, soft murmurs of pleasure drowning the echoes of long-gone screams. Dean relaxed back against the soft grass, his eyes fluttering shut as peace spread through him. Here, cradled in the arms and wings of his own personal angel, sheltered by feathers and flesh and Grace and love, he could finally let go. Here, he didn't have to protect anyone: Castiel would watch over them both, and be glad to do so.

Is it me or is it you

Or the shadow of a dream

Is it wrong to be in love

Could it be the finest love I've ever seen

The angel's hands were excruciatingly gentle, pushing fabric slowly aside to expose tanned flesh to Castiel's exploring mouth and fingertips. Dean moaned softly, arching languidly under the attention, content to comb his fingers through messy dark hair and let his angel take care of him. Castiel seemed to take endless pleasure in looking after Dean, soothing his wounds both physical and spiritual before coaxing him into pleasure so gently that his climax seemed to take Dean by surprise: it was rare that they had the luxury of time enough for that, though, so Dean was hardly going to deny the angel his will on a night like this. No case, no crisis, nothing but the two of them and their love and the distant stars as witness.

Dean had asked once, if loving Castiel - an Angel of the Lord, an angel in a man's body - was a sin. Castiel had held him close with sorrow in his deep blue eyes, and whispered that he was so sorry Dean had ever been told such heartless lies to make him believe such a thing possible. He had told Dean that love - especially love of the depth he and Dean shared - was the truest worship of God, and that He would never condemn something so pure and so luminous as what passed between Dean and Castiel. Dean had always been afraid to believe, scared of what would happen if he dared to think that there might be good in the world: but with his very own angel holding him close, promising that their love was blessed and would outlast the world itself, Dean could not bring himself to doubt.

He had doubted the existence of angels, he had doubted the existence of God, but ever since the night they first met he had always believed in Castiel.

Set it free,

Let it happen like it happened once before

It's a wicked wind

And it chills me to the bone

And if you do not believe me

Come and gaze upon the shadow at your door

A single brush of Castiel's fingertips had wiped away the crimson line of the cut across Dean's chest, and a flicker of will sufficed to banish the angel's own clothing: at the sudden touch of skin on skin, Dean gasped, his green eyes flaring open as an involuntary tremor wracked his body. Castiel's lips were there to swallow his moan, though, as the angel's hands curled around him gently and stroked, sending white-hot pleasure through his veins. Dean keened softly into his angel's mouth, tongue lapping instinctively at those lush lips as he whispered raggedly, "Cas, please..."

"Shhh." Castiel pressed their mouths together again, languid and lazy and soothing, as he coaxed Dean's legs higher around his waist. "It's alright, Dean. I've got you."

Please kiss me gently darlin'

Where the river runs away

From the mountains in the springtime

On a blue and windy day

Another flicker of Grace to ease the way, and Dean flung his head back and voiced a low, pleasure-torn sob as the angel slid home in his body. Before he met Castiel, Dean had always considered himself one hundred percent straight - but nothing he had ever felt, none of the beautiful and talented women he'd taken to bed, could give him anything that was even in the same universe as letting Castiel make love to him. Feeling his angel inside him, their bodies intertwined and connected in the most primal of ways, Dean felt tears sting his eyes at the beauty of it. This was theirs, something that Dean had never dared share with anyone else, and intentional or not he was eternally grateful he'd saved this for Castiel.

Strong arms wrapped around his torso, and Castiel reared back, lifting them both so that he was on his knees with Dean straddling him. The movement forced him deeper into Dean, who cried out and clutched at his shoulders, vision greying out for a moment as pleasure tore through him. Finally, Castiel began to move, steady thrusts drawing a flowing melody of gasps and cries from Dean's lips.

His head arched back as he dug his fingers into Castiel's shoulders, Dean finally mustered the strength to look back down - and the sight of his angel's face lit with ecstasy and his blue eyes shining with soul-deep devotion was enough to send Dean over the edge, his body seizing as his climax hit him like an earthquake. Castiel held him through it, his own hoarse, almost triumphant-sounding cry mingling with Dean's as his wings flared against the darkened sky, black feathers interspersed with the gleams of stars shielding their own little world.

When there's beauty all around

As the shades of night grow deep

As the morning stars grow dim

They will find us in the shadows fast asleep

When Castiel lay him gently back against the grass, Dean curled his hand around the angel's arm and pulled him down as well. Castiel obeyed the wordless request without hesitation, and Dean curled into his side, laying his head on the angel's chest and listening with a sense of utter contentment to the steady beating of his heart. Feeling a surge of love so strong it was almost painful for the heavenly being lying next to him on the cool grass, and he reached out, lacing his fingers through Castiel's as he looked up into cerulean eyes.

"Stay. Please."

Let it go,

Let it happen like it happened once before

It's a wicked wind

And it chills me to the bone

And if you do not believe me

Come and gaze upon the shadow at your door

"Of course, Dean."

Castiel drew him closer and wrapped his wings around them both, the silky feathers blanketing them and keeping the cool night air at bay. His free hand stroked gently through Dean's hair again, and Dean let it, relaxing at his angel's side with a blissful sigh. His eyelids were already fluttering, trying to close and let him slip into slumber, but he fought a moment longer as he gently squeezed Castiel's hand.

"You'll still be here when I wake up, right?" The hunter's voice was low and vulnerable.

Castiel smiled, leaning down to press a soft, chaste kiss on Dean's forehead as he whispered, "I will always be here, aziazior arth. I promise."

Dean fell asleep there, curled up in the long grass, wrapped in an angel's feathered embrace. And when Sam, guilt-ridden and maybe a little bit panicked, traced the GPS he'd secretly placed in the Impala and found the clearing, he wasn't entirely surprised at what he found. Dean, fast asleep in the arms of a certain Angel of the Lord, both of them so thoroughly blanketed in jet-black feathers it was impossible to even tell whether or not they were clothed. Dean was still deep in slumber, but Castiel was awake, his vivid azure eyes half-closed as he idly watched the songbirds flitting overhead as the sun climbed above the treetops. His hand was still stroking Dean's hair, a tireless, soothing rhythm, and Sam felt a small smile touch his lips at the sight. Silently, he mouthed thank you at the angel, saw the corner of Castiel's mouth quirk up in acknowledgement before he turned and made his way back to the road.

Considering Dean had his own personal angel to zap him about, Sam felt fully justified in taking the Impala back to town.

As the hum of the car's motor faded in the distance, Castiel looked down at the man asleep in his arms and smiled. Dean placed so little value on his own life - but Castiel knew, as did Sam in a different way, that Dean was worth everything.

...

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Shmoopy as hell, right? Don't say I didn't warn you, though. The phrase Cas used near the end there is Enochian: it means image of gladness, kind of a sweet little complement. Hope you enjoyed that sappy little piece: it's my first Supernatural fic, so reviews would be greatly adored!