Just a little snapshot of a thing. My first Destiel piece and man are these two fucking hot to write! Reviews are always appreciated. :)

Was it possible to cover the entire spectrum of human emotion in just under twenty-four hours? If you asked Dean Winchester the answer would certainly be yes. At first there had been apprehension. At Ajay, the rogue reaper he trusted to give passage to his little brother into hell. Watching them walk away he had allowed himself a budding hope- small, and warming- that they might actually be successful in their endeavors only to have that hope dashed and swept away like so many shards of shattered glass. Purgatory. The world all but fell away beneath his feet when the sly angel Naomi with her helpful, insidious blue eyes let it slip that his brother might very well be trapped in that bloody, unforgiving, absurd place- Wonderland on crack. Despair, reluctance, desperation, gratitude, love- all to Benny who allowed Dean to kill him, kill him, even when he knew what was coming to him, so he might rescue Sammy. Unconditional love, relief that was almost painful when he engulfed Sam in his arms- always the little one, always in need of protecting. Grief and something else- like a ventricle in his heart being ripped out of place and allowed the blood to pour freely into some unreachable receptacle, never to be seen again- at the loss of Benny.

Hope again, at the sight of Bobby's soul. Gall, ire, and a sliver of fear as Crowley threw them both against a tree, repressing Bobby's ascent into Heaven. Confusion at Naomi's rescue. Victory that made his head vibrate and move rapidly in his veins like a strong stimulant, making him warm and unconquerable. That victory deflated as swiftly as a loose balloon when they returned to find Kevin gone.

All of this and Dean was sure he had exhausted his ability to feel anything for awhile. He simply allowed the last day's events wash over him in a sort of fugue state, barely aware of himself or of the rhythmic dribbling of the soft rain at the windows of Kevin's dilapidated boathouse. Sam had gone out to procure dinner for them from a local fast food joint, Dean had opted to remain. They would stay there the night, both were too drained to consider anything else.

Eyes closed, Dean rested his elbows on the table, fingers entwined in themselves as they supported the wight of his head. His posture was stiff and rigid, like a statue only less graceful and a bit more cold. He tried curtailing his thoughts so he would not be overwhelmed by the enormity of all that had taken place in such a short period of time. Cas' violent freak-out, Sammy's precarious health, Crowley breathing down their necks, the urgent, essential responsibility of closing the gates of hell, Naomi, now Kevin's disappearance, and this, and that, and that, and that, that, that,that...

Never did they ever catch a break and it was really beginning to wear thin on Dean. He wasn't sure how many more times he could get wrenched before something finally snapped.

But he didn't think on that. Because he never did that. He would never allow himself to get caught up in the shear impossibility of it all. Imminent doom and helplessness were for farm animals and the folks he rescued on a day-to-day basis. Not for Dean Winchester.

But even as he told himself that, he couldn't snap himself out of his numb, concrete position. His bones felt like ice and his head like a murky fog. He couldn't bring himself to consider their next move.

Castiel stood invisible not two feet behind where Dean sat. His brows furrowed in silent disapproval at the sight of the taut muscles of his biceps strain against the tension of his body. The the junction of his shoulders and neck bunched unmoving, his head pressed into clenched hands. He hated seeing Dean this way. Dean- his rock. Dean- in so many ways his moral compass. He could feel the onslaught on emotions twisting and roiling like a torrential thunderstorm, Castiel was even the cause of some it which pained the angel on a very human level. That he should have caused his friend, who had only ever wanted what was best for him, any amount of pain seemed altogether unholy to Castiel.

He felt very strongly for this human. Their relationship had shifted and mutated over the years, but Dean remained what he considered to be the closest friend he ever had and he cherished him for it. There were many times Cas saw him desolate and it never became any easier. Dean was a good man. A Righteous man. That he should be made to suffer time and time again was tragic to witness, though he admired the hunter's ability to bounce back without fail. This time, however, he felt he was much to blame. He nearly killed Dean the last time he saw him- caused him an inexplicable amount of pain, both physically and, surely, mentally. It only seemed right that he should rectify his mistakes, replace the pain. His healing Grace could alleviate any pain, though it would involve a rather hands on approach and Dean was never much one for touching. Or Castiel encroaching on his personal space. Yes. he and Dean shared a very close bond, "profound" had been a word he had used to describe it in the past. Though that bond never entailed much physical contact, it seemed an appropriate thing to do.

Decision made, he closed his eyes and focused his energy into his fingertips. Both hands extended towards Dean.

Lost in the labyrinthine shithole that was his mind, Dean jumped at the feeling of two hands resting on his shoulders. Instincts took over and he whipped around, prepared to knock someone's lights out but was met only with familiar blue eyes.

Dean exhaled sharply, heart rate already coming down. "Son of a bitch Cas," he hissed. His mind raced, images of Cas beating the living shit out of him then disappearing with the angel tablet flooded repetitiously in front of his eyes and he wondered which Cas he was dealing with now. "And where the hell have you been-" He tried to stand up, only to be gently pushed down again.

"It doesn't matter," his voice was an oasis of calm, if not somewhat somber. With cautious movements, he pressed his thumbs experimentally into the muscles of Dean's shoulder, earning a narrowed-eyed glance from the hunter.

"Dude- what are you doing?" Dean knew Cas had issues with personal space, though this seemed to be crossing some line he had never toed before. It was sudden and uncharacteristic. He tried to get up again as the angel's fingers began working small circles in the tense muscles of his shoulders. The relentless pressure kept him in place, however, and he was reminded of just how powerful of a creature Castiel was.

"I- I'm here to help you, Dean." Cas answered truthfully. He had seen such gestures performed on humans when they were stressed or tense before. He only hoped he was doing it right. "You are holding a lot of unnecessary tension. You can inflict lasting damage on your body if it remains strained with out coming down to a relaxed state. "

Dean looked to the ceiling, lips pursed and eyes squinted, reviewing those words and thinking them strange. It was a look Castiel often saw on Dean and he was never sure if he should be offended.

"Cas, I-uh- appreciate that. Really. But- ah," He shivered involuntarily as something like hot water began running down the length of his spine, flowing from the tips of Cas' fingers. "What the hell?"

A small smile tugged at the corner of the angel's lips. "It's my Grace."

"No kidding?" Dean murmured. An inviting, pleasure replaced his initial resistance and he allowed himself to begin to loosen the muscles in his neck, leaning his chin closer to his chest without realizing, allowing Castiel's fingers space. Suddenly keeping his eyes opened seemed difficult as the intangible liquid spread from the angel's knuckles as he kneaded gently into sinuous tissue of his shoulder. Fucking angel mojo.

"Cas" the words hardly above a whisper, his head too full of warm light. "Are you fucking hypnotizing me?"

"No." He grew bolder. Dean's neck jerked in an involuntary shiver as Cas trailed his fingers up the sensitive skin of the back of his neck. "But I am helping you to calm down."

"No shit." he breathed, rolling his head as the muscles in his neck came undone under the heat of Castiel's Grace.

Castiel openly smiled, Dean's reaction making him feel brave as he slipped a cautious hand down the front of his shirt looking for the first sign of disdain that meant he should pull away or stop. Dean's breath hitched in both surprise and pleasure. Confusion ate at the corners of his mind, but it was but a dim flicker in the face of the growing flame that the warmth of Castiel's grace was beginning stoke. This was, for all intents and purposes, exceedingly gay, he realized. It should be making him feel wildly uncomfortable. The warmth beginning to pool in his groin should be frightening him because he by no means was interested in men that way. No sir. And yet he couldn't stop the moan that slipped through his lips as Castiel's thumb continued to work in deep circles at the base of his neck.

The soft sound of pleasure vibrating in Dean's throat surprised Cas in the best possible way. Something primal in him was ignited. The blood felt hot in his veins and he could feel his heart pound against his ribcage, his vessel reacting to the physical sensation of touch. Even more surprising was the human's hand that lifted to lay across his own. At first Cas worried that he might mean to stop him, but was happier than perhaps he should have been when Dean's fingers laced through his and seemed to guide his hand across the fine muscles of his chest almost thoughtlessly. Dean, a leader through and through. He was happy to give this to Dean. To take away his ever-present suffering. He wondered briefly why he never had thought of doing this before but was distracted by the pressure of Dean's head as he began pressing into Castiel's body. The urge for more growing, he slipped a second hand under the fabric of Dean's shirt.

It was becoming a lot to handle. This physicality. This intimacy made all the more intense by the electrifying heat of Castiel's heavenly Grace. Dean's breath quickened. The earthly warmth between his legs began to spread, the twitch of his dick sending a flash of terror as he reminded himself just who he was rising for but he was too lost in the feel of Cas' hands gliding across the tautness of his skin to care too much. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this good.

The twist of the door knob broke the sultry thickness that had descended upon the room and Dean was out of the chair in an instant, surprising Cas with his urgency. Sam came through the door, juggling their bags of take-out with the keys to the impala dangling from his mouth. His eyes widened when they landed on Castiel.

"Cas" the younger Winchester greeted breathlessly as he deposited the bags on the table. He raised a confused eyebrow at Dean who seemed winded if not somewhat feverish. He shot an anxious glance towards Castiel, recalling Dean's account of what happened the last time his brother and the angel were in the same room with each other.

"Everything okay?" He ventured, eying Dean warily.

Dean nodded, clearing his throat, trying to dispel the hazy confusion of that last fewl minutes. "Sure. Why wouldn't it be? Whatd'ya got there- please tell me you didn't forget the pie." When Sam seemed to accept this, Dean shot Cas a warning look that made the angel's brows furrow in confusion. Why was Dean acting so strange? He realized then that those moments were ones that would likely not be repeated. A certain emptiness mixed with a little with a bit of shame settled like lead at the bottom of his stomach and he decided it would be best to leave the brothers for the time being.

He waited until Sam and Dean were engrossed in conversation before he allowed himself to disappear.