***

Dean didn’t know how to describe the feeling that had come through him as Kali chanted. It wasn’t heat, yet it was; it wasn’t lust, yet it was; it wasn’t anything violent or destructive, like he’d been afraid it would be since the jolt; it was like — it was patient and warm and forward-looking, and fearless. Utterly fearless.

The room was perfectly ordinary, sweet-smelling and full of family pictures, but to Dean it seemed almost magical, like the colors were deeper, and the air tasted like rain. He closed the door and leaned against it, and after a moment locked it, too, as Castiel sat on the bed with an expectant look in his eyes.

“Dean?”

“I gotta say something.” He wanted to cross the room and climb into Cas, bite into his mouth and rip off his clothes — clothes he was starting to think of as Dr. Alex clothes, since Alex had obviously chosen them for him, but damn, didn’t they make Cas look good? — but instead he just stood there with his fingers digging into his palms, eating up Castiel with his eyes.

“I am listening.”

“I’m not doing this just because we need a weapon. You’re not just a weapon.”

“I know.”

“And I’m not doing this just because I want to get you in the sack.”

“I know.” Bastard sounded amused now.

“You can still change your mind.”

“No,” Castiel said. “I cannot. This is inevitable. Our road has taken many twists and turns but we have always been meant to come here.”

“Yeah? How do you figure?”

“Because you are my love, Dean,” Castiel said simply. “You are my family. You have broken my heart and you have healed it. We have saved each other and fought each other, fought for each other — you are mine, Dean. And I am yours. I am beginning to suspect I have been restored again and again by the force of your will, not that of my Father.”

Dean swallowed hard, watching him.

Castiel looked down at his hand, the chalk drawing already smeared. “Stronger than death. That is what we are.”

Dean knelt on the carpet in front of him. He smelled like mountain air and was warm as sunshine, and the denim under Dean’s fingertips was soft. God, he didn’t want to stop touching Cas, ever. He gazed at Castiel — that lush mouth that he hadn’t kissed enough and those unearthly eyes, so innocent and wise at once, the pulse beating in his throat and the body that was slim and strong and more powerful than anyone could imagine — and said, “I think I get it,” as he kissed him.

“Something to do,” Castiel whispered against Dean’s mouth. “Saving people, hunting monsters. Something to believe in. My family. Someone to love. You.”

“Sounds like perfect happiness to me,” said Dean, and Castiel smiled and kissed him deeper and dirtier than ever before.

Dean gasped as he felt his heart skip a beat. He climbed into Castiel, already panting, still kissing him, and Castiel pushed his hands under Dean’s shirt and traced his ribs with his fingertips, leaving delicious trails of heat behind. Their mouths collided, teeth and tongues meeting, and Dean grabbed at Castiel’s clothes, wanting to yank them off as much as he wanted to hold Castiel close and keep tasting him, keep touching him.

“I love you,” Castiel whispered and licked Dean’s ear. “I love only you.”

“I know, Cas,” Dean groaned. He rolled them over, bringing Castiel with him and pressed his knees to Castiel’s hips. “I’ve wanted you so much.”

He had to have Castiel now. Now. He yanked Castiel’s black button-down shirt open and scraped his slender throat with his teeth, while Castiel shuddered and gasped above him. Dean kissed his way down Castiel’s chest to his nipples, which he sucked hard, making Castiel’s hips buck. Castiel held him by the shoulders and groaned, “Undress me, Dean,” and Dean shoved off his jeans and kissed his thighs.

He felt like everything was falling into place inside him. He couldn’t cure Cas, not really, but he could give him everything he had and hope it was enough. From the way Cas was shivering, the way he was moaning, it felt like more than enough — enough to pull him out of that darkness and give him something to believe in, something to be happy about. He felt like he was sucking all the poison and malignancy out of Castiel with every kiss, wiping away his scars with every kiss.

Love, he thought as he held Castiel’s hips and kissed his stomach. It was love, wasn’t it? If he didn’t love Cas he wouldn’t have gone searching for him, wouldn’t have followed his trail, wouldn’t have insisted that he keep living and keep fighting. If he didn’t love Cas, he wouldn’t have missed him so much — he would have felt sad about the loss of him for a while and then he would have moved on.

But instead he loved Cas. He loved Castiel. He loved Cas, this strange, skinny dude with the oversized eyes and hair that was wild and soft, hands that were big and slender and that touched him so hungrily, mouth that was lush and tempting — he loved Castiel, the solemn, sweet, clueless angel, who’d given him so much, who’d given him everything, who tried and tried and failed and then tried some more —

He whispered, “I love you,” and kissed Castiel desperately, arms wrapped around his head. Castiel groaned into his mouth, trembling, and between frantic kisses he threw off his clothes and Dean’s as well, jeans and shoes and shirts hitting the door opposite with tell-tale thunks. It was a little disappointing, really, he’d wanted to fool around with Castiel a little bit more before they were both naked and got down to business, but on the other hand that meant he could wrap his hand around Castiel’s cock and stroke him, tease his fingers along the heated skin and gently rub the tender crown. Castiel pushed into his hand, making little needy sounds in his throat as he kissed Dean, fingers in Dean’s hair, his body arching and retreating and arching again.

“Dean,” Castiel whispered and Dean looked at him and swallowed hard. Castiel’s face was flushed, his eyes were dark and huge, and with his lips parted he looked like he was begging for more kisses, more touch. Dean touched Castiel’s face and Castiel clasped his hand to his cheek, his eyes closing blissfully. Dean ran his thumb over Castiel’s lips and Castiel sucked it into his mouth, making Dean groan.

He rolled onto his back and pulled Castiel on top of him. Castiel kissed him, elbows planted by Dean’s shoulders, and Dean wrapped his legs around Castiel’s waist.

“Tell me what to do,” Castiel whispered and tugged on Dean’s earlobe with his teeth.

“I want you to fuck me.” He licked Castiel’s cheek. “Or I can fuck you. Whichever, Cas, whatever you want.”

Castiel’s tongue swept over his lips and Dean touched it with his own, making Castiel shake with laughter. “Take me,” he said, still laughing. “That’s what I want.”

“As you wish, sweetheart,” Dean said and slapped his ass. “On your stomach. Gotta get you ready.” Castiel rolled over obediently and cradled his head on his arms, and Dean knelt over him, surprised at how happy he was. He’d imagined that magic sex would be solemn, straight-up missionary position, no laughter — but instead he was happy, so happy, he wanted to laugh and tickle and tease and make Castiel feel so good he never faced any kind of darkness again.

He kissed down Castiel’s spine, getting soft little gasps from Castiel, and held his hips as he licked the small of Castiel’s back. Castiel breathed a soft, low, “Oh,” as Dean parted his ass cheeks and licked into him with a soft tongue. He’d gotten lube and condoms from his bag before the ceremony and they were in his jeans pocket — he’d been very aware of them all through the ceremony — but he preferred to do it like this, at least at first, get Castiel relaxed and wet and open until any tension was drained from his body. It wasn’t too bad from his end, either — the friction of the bedding against his cock as he rocked his hips, the warm flesh surrounding his tongue, the little moans Castiel made — it was just, fuck, so good.

Dean pushed a finger into him, slick alongside his tongue, and Castiel jolted with surprise. “Easy, easy,” Dean whispered and twisted his finger. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Just relax.”

“Yes,” Castiel said and his hands clenched. “It feels —” Dean pressed up inside him and Castiel groaned from deep in his chest. “Dean.”

“There we go,” Dean said and kissed his shoulders. “Do you want me to go on like this?”

“No — yes —” Castiel swallowed hard. “I don’t know — I can’t think —” He groaned again as Dean added another finger, and trembled in Dean’s arms as Dean opened him.

“Stay right there,” Dean said when Castiel seemed sufficiently pliant, his limbs loose, and got off the bed to find his jeans. Castiel had thrown them all the way to the door, but the little bottle of lubricant and condoms were still in his pocket. He climbed back onto the bed and walked on his knees to Castiel. Castiel was still on his stomach, still quietly gasping, and he tensed again as Dean approached him. Dean grasped his hips. “Is this how you want it?” Dean whispered and kissed his neck. “Tell me how you want it.”

Castiel shook his head. “I don’t know — I can’t —”

“Tell me, Cas.”

“Take me like this,” Castiel answered and moved onto his back. He opened his legs and Dean knelt between them. His eyes were huge as he watched Dean rolled on the condom, and he swallowed visibly and tilted back his head as Dean spread lube onto them both.

Dean slid his arms under Castiel’s to grip him by the shoulders. “Ready?”

“Yes,” Castiel gasped, “oh, yes,” and Dean pushed into him, into — fuck — tightness and heat like nothing else, the body of his beloved. He held Castiel tight and looked into his eyes and loved him so much he could feel it in his heart and his mind and his soul.

Dean kissed Castiel wet and deep, his hand on Castiel’s cheek, and Castiel sucked on his tongue and lay his hand over Dean’s. His other hand scratched down Dean’s spine and then grasped Dean’s ass and Dean fucked him, deep and desperate and fast, balls-deep into Castiel until all he could hear was the wet slap of flesh against flesh and Castiel’s rapid breathing and his own grunts of pleasure.

“Wait, stop, stop,” said Castiel, planting his hands on Dean’s chest, and Dean came to a shuddering stop, gasping for breath. “I want —” He kissed Dean and pushed him onto his back, and Dean exhaled as Castiel moved over him to straddle his hips. “I want it like this.”

“Oh, yeah,” Dean said softly and held him by the hips, breathing short and shallow. He groaned aloud as Castiel lowered his body onto Dean’s cock.

“Fuck,” Dean moaned, “fuck, Castiel,” and Castiel made a rough sort of laugh in reply, riding Dean with a clumsy but determined rhythm, his head thrown back and his hand holding Dean’s to his hip. Dean planted his feet flat on the bed and shoved up into him, loving the way it jarred another groan out of Castiel with each thrust.

Castiel’s grip on his hand tightened. The rhythm with which he rode Dean was growing erratic and fast, and Dean knew he was close to coming. Dean wanted him to come, wanted to feel him wet and messy. He licked his hand and wrapped it around Castiel’s cock and gave it a few hard tugs, and Castiel cried out in surprise as come spurted over Dean’s hand. Dean continued stroking him, softer and gentler, until Castiel moved off him and curled over him, panting.

Dean kissed him, his hand cradling Castiel’s cock. “More,” he whispered. “I want more.” Castiel moved off Dean and onto his stomach, and Dean laughed. “Fuck, Cas.” Castiel looked at him, his eyes narrowed, and Dean laughed again as he knelt behind him. “Okay. Point taken.” He held Castiel’s hips and pushed into him again, slow and careful.

God it was good — he groaned just at the sensation and Castiel groaned under him, pushing back his hips as if he wanted Dean deeper. Dean has happy to oblige, deeper, harder, faster, inside and it was good, so good, fuck, he never wanted to stop. He slid his hand up Castiel’s throat and felt his pulse pounding, felt his damp face and parted lips, and pushed his first two fingers into Castiel’s mouth. Castiel moaned and licked them, sucked them, making Dean shudder.

Dean knelt up and pulled Castiel with him, his hand on Castiel’s chest. Castiel dropped his head to Dean’s shoulder and looked at him through half-closed eyes, those beautiful eyes that were like looking into the sky on the best of summer days, and they were so full of adoration and joy that Dean whispered, “I love you,” again and kissed his mouth, kissed his eyebrows and his eyelids and his lips again, and his hips moved fast and Castiel moved with him, his hand on Dean’s face — and he was coming, unable to think or say anything beyond Cas, Cas, Cas.

He collapsed onto Castiel, gulping air and clutching the headboard, and Castiel twisted back and kissed his hair, his own chest heaving. He held Dean’s face, fingertips feather-light and tender. Chalk dust was smeared over his face and chest, over his arms and down his hips. Dean supposed he looked much the same, smeared, marked, claimed.

“That,” Castiel whispered, “was very, very good,” and Dean burst out laughing.

“Good, that’s what a guy likes to hear.” He moved away from Castiel and pulled off the condom, and hoped Chelsea was okay with it in the wastepaper basket as he tossed it in. “You okay, Cas?”

“Yes,” Castiel said softly, his voice a little distant, and Dean turned to look at him.

“You sure? We can cuddle if you want, though I gotta say cuddling’s not —”

“Dean,” Castiel said in that same distant voice, “it worked.”

“It worked,” Dean repeated, confused, and then whispered, “it worked,” as Castiel blinked his clothes back on and climbed off the bed.

There was a moment of quiet, like he was gathering power, and then the house shook again as wing-shaped shadows spread out from Castiel’s back and across the wall. Dean nearly fell to his knees, overcome with awe —God, had he just been inside this amazing, powerful creature? Castiel’s head fell back and white light shone from under his eyelids, and he said, in a voice that was deep and rumbling, “It worked. Dress, Dean.”

Dean scrambled into his clothes. “What can I do?”

Castiel looked at him with eyes that sparked like electricity. “Watch over the Halfords.” He disappeared.