I. Technically, it wasn't a kiss. Hell, it wasn't even romantic. But to Dean's mind, it was a kiss- simply because there was no reason on heaven or earth should Castiel have placed his lips on Dean's.

The water wasn't cold, nor was it deep. Only a child or a very stupid adult could've drowned in that swamp. Ironically enough, the spirit Dean was dealing with here was an adult dwarf, who took a victim each year on the anniversary of his death.

Dean could feel the cool air upon his legs as he thrashed against the spirit's hold. He was probably submerged in no more than two feet of water and he could clearly see the moon in its murky depths. The dwarf's hands were clutched around Dean's shoulders, holding him down.

Sometimes physical strength can overtake a ghost's spiritual powers, but it wasn't happening this time around. No matter how hard Dean fought, those small hands held strong. Precious air bubbles escaped from his mouth and Dean could feel his lungs burning. He was screaming mentally for Sam, cursing his little brother for taking too long to find the bones to salt and burn. Granted, it wasn't Sam's fault- the murderers hid the body- but it's the principle of the thing.

Slowly, Dean's struggles went lax. His hands dropped, his legs stopped moving. His eyes closed and a soft red haze filled his mind…

Then came, perhaps, the most uncomfortable kiss of his life. He awoke to pain on his chest. Pressure against his heart. Pounding, his rib cage bouncing.

And if that wasn't bad enough, as soon as his chest was relieved of that god-awful pressure, his nose was suddenly clamped shut, his head was shoved upwards into an awkward position, and hot, wet lips engulfed his mouth.

"Mmmphf!" Dean screamed. "Mmmmmmff!"

Lips and hands were pulled away immediately, and Dean took the moment to twist himself over to gasp and gag and breath.

"Dean," came the low careful tone of Castiel. "Are you alright?"

In Dean's subconscious, he was quite aware that Castiel had performed CPR on him, thus saving his life. But at that moment, all he could do was point accusingly, and gasped out, "You kissed me!"

Even Castiel looked exasperated by Dean's one-mind track. "You were drowning, Dean. I did what I had to do."

Dean knew he should be grateful. Instead, he made over-exaggerated gestures by wiping his mouth and acting very wigged out. "Next time, let me drown!"

It was then Sam appeared and Dean switched his gears by focusing his attentions from Castiel to Sam. After all, it was easier to be annoyed at his little brother than try to wrap his head around the fact that Cas' lips were on his less than a minute ago.

II. The second time it happened, it was Dean who initiated it.

Sam was on one knee, his fingers clamped around three or so lock picks. The lock he was trying to undo was of a European brand- its key hole smaller than its American counterpart- making it harder for Sam to break through.

"C'mon, hurry up," Dean murmured, casting wary looks down the lone street. The hunter has never felt nervous about breaking and entering stores, but this building only had one way in and the front light was lit upon their forms. Anybody on the street could easily see them.

"If you would only allow me-" Castiel stepped forward, raising his two fingers to Dean's forehead.

Dean slapped them away. "Dude, what have I said about the fingers? Keep them off me."

Sam snorted and it took Dean a second to realize why. He blushed and murmured, "Shut it, Sam. You done yet?"

"Almost," Sam grunted, jiggling one of the picks. "I just need to…" his eyes moved slightly off to the left, blinked wildly and yelped, "Car!"

What happened next, Dean could only describe as: necessary in the line of duty.

It wasn't just a car, but a police cruiser. Sam dove behind the only trashcan on the street, tucking his legs in and ducking low. Castiel and Dean didn't have such a luxury. If they ran now, the police would definitely see them, investigate the store, and possibly tell the owners to keep an eye out in the future.

Castiel crouched, as if he was ready to take off when all of a sudden Dean grabbed him by the front of his coat, shoved him against the wall of the building and pressed his lips upon Castiel's.

This also, wasn't technically a kiss. This kiss was something elementary kids do. Dean's mouth was on Castiel's, though no lips were moving from either party.

"Deeeen," Castiel murmured. "Wha-"


The police cruiser slowed and one of the officers popped his head out. "Hey, love birds, this is not the place or time to being doing that!"

Dean pulled away, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry, officer!"

The officer shook his head, ducked his head back inside the cruiser and drove off. Dean watched as the car took a right turn, disappearing from sight. He sighed in relief.

Sam stood up from his hiding spot, his eyes wide and his mouth a little slack opened. "Dude-"

"Don't." Dean warned him. "Don't say anything."

Castiel stepped forward. "Dean-"

Dean rounded on him. "You too! Shut up!"

It took Sam another thirty seconds to open the door, all the while humming a jaunty tune to himself.

III. The third time is happened, Dean insisted it was an accident- like falling down the stairs is an accident. He had no control over it.

Gods, she was beautiful. Dean buried his face into her thick black hair as he pushed into her. She arched against him and he was rewarded with a breathy moan. Every curve, every inch of her screamed perfection…


Dean smirked into her hair. Wow, that sounded almost male. He moved, getting another gasp from her and that was definitely female. She was kissing him now, her lips full and red.


How the heck did she muttered that when her tongue was in his mouth?

"Wake up."


"Wake up."

Dean's eyes fluttered open. The taste of her was still in his mouth, the smell of her hair still in his senses. Where did she go? His hand groped the bed, trying to locate the warm naked body.

A hand was placed on his shoulder and Dean smiled when he located her. He reached up, grabbed her by the arm- why did she put her clothes back on? – and pulled her down to him.

Oh sure, the sudden disappearance of her hair and the unexpected blue eyes should've clued him, but he was much too asleep to tell the difference. One hand curled around the back of her head and he leaned up to kiss her.

He kissed her once, twice, three times before he noticed something was off. It was mostly due to the fact that he reached down to stroke one of her breasts and touched only flat, clothed torso.

Dean jerked back immediately. His brain shifted into high gear and realized exactly who was getting the attention of his mouth. "GAH!"

He scrambled over to switch on the light by his nightstand. Castiel sat patiently on the edge of the bed, his hair a mess, his lips red. There was also a noticeable flush on his cheeks despite his always calm demeanor. "Goddammit, Cas! What the hell do you think you were doing?"

"I simply meant to wake you," he said. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"What's going on?" Sam muttered sleepily from the other bed.

"Dean is upset because he accidentally k-"

"Cas, shut up!

IV: Hell was never about fire and brimstone. Rivers of blood, eternal darkness, is all human perception. What hell really was is just pain. Constant, never ending pain.

Dean cried out, gasping and raving, more in horror than anything else. There is something about seeing your own intestines hanging out that is unnaturally terrifying.

Here, Dean cried out for Sam. When Sam doesn't come, he cried out for his father. He then finally cried out for his mother, which shamed him to no end. He was alone this time, but he could still hear the cries of damned around him.

"Someone…" He sobbed. The taste of blood never left his mouth. "Help me… please…"


Dean jerked his head up. Castiel stood before him, his untouched body looking out of place. There is no blood on him, no bruises, no missing teeth. He is clean and not even the gore on the floor stained his shoes.

"Cas," Dean croaked. He was slightly aware that at this point in time, he had yet to know the angel's name or even know what he looked like. He is too relieved to care. "Cas…"

Castiel walked forward, each step clearing the floor of viscera. He raised a hand to Dean's face and Dean gratefully leaned into that hand. The touch is gentle.

So when Dean felt lips upon his own, the slight touch of pleasure in the mist of pain, he was more than happy to accept. He leaned into that mouth, gasping, moaning, wanting more. There was a hand on his shoulder and it gripped him tight.

Castiel gave one last kiss and pulled back. Dean tried to lean in, to capture that mouth once more but the angel seemed more interested of his hand on Dean's shoulder. When he whimpered in confusion, Castiel simply said, "Don't be afraid."

His wings spread out.

There was blinding flash of light and both Dean and Castiel shot off like a bullet, leaving hell and its sins behind them.

Dean woke up to Sam shaking his shoulders. He was back on earth, back in the crappy hotel he checked in last night. There was only Sam. Castiel was nowhere in sight- presumably still on his quest for God.

Dean shook off Sam's worried glances as he locked himself in the bathroom. Wordlessly he sat on the toilet lid, his hand covered his mouth. In reality, Dean didn't remember the point in which Castiel 'raised him from perdition.' If this dream had any truth to it, he wouldn't know.

And he wasn't going to ask.


A/N: I tried to make five of these, but could only come up with four. Ah well. R/R, peeps.