Dean looked up as Cas all but dragged the teen boy into the room. He was good looking with blond hair and blue eyes but was a scrawny kid and putting up one hell of a fight. He shied away when Cas pressed the bunt of the gun against his jaw.

"Please don't do this, please." The boy begged. Dean watched Castiel's face, for….right there! A flicker of emotion, regret, sorrow, grief. Cas was starting to have second thoughts, buyer's remorse even though Dean didn't doubt for a moment that if he had told Cas to kill the kid, his angel would have done it. Probably would still do it, guilt or no guilt.

Sam coughed lightly causing Dean to glance at him. He'd seen it too, Dean could tell. He threw Dean a 'what are you going to do now?' look, mixed with 'I told you so", while some how managing to convey 'sorry you're epic gay, murderous romance isn't working out',

Dean shrugged it off. So what if Cas had emotions and shit, hours ago Cas hadn't even known how to shoot a gun, now he was a murder and looked at the pistol with desire. If it took a couple of days to kill off the part of Cas that cared, then Dean figured that was okay.

"Hey gorgeous," Dean said, drawing Cas' attention to him and away from the boy. For a moment something akin to fear flashed in his eyes as he looked at Dean. There and gone so fast that Dean would have missed it had he not have been looking. His cock twitched at the though of Cas being afraid of him, because he knew that even if Cas was afraid he would still get on his knees and willing suck Dean off if told to do so. "Why don't you go get comfortable while Sam and me finish up here."

It wasn't a request and Cas seemed to know it because he only nodded, shoving the boy towards Dean.

"Do you want," he began, fingering the gun.

"Nah, keep it."

He smiled shyly before turning and leaving, Dean watched him go hoping that he didn't do something stupid to make Dean kill him.

"Come here kid."

Castiel ignored the muffled screaming and thumping sounds coming from the other room and he ascended the wide, spiral staircase. It was easy to find the master bedroom, the room at the end of the long hall with its white double doors. It was plush and luxuries, done in a blue and green color scheme that extended to everything from the walls and carpet and the bedclothes. Padding across the carpet, he sat heavily on the edge of the bed and took off his shoes and discarding his socks. Feet bare, he wiggled his toes and sighed.

His mind was beginning to fill with thoughts; thoughts that made him want to question the situation he found himself in. And he didn't wan to question this. Question Dean.

He looked at the cordless phone on the night stand and contemplated calling home to at least let his family know he wasn't dead, that he was alright. But shoved the thought away quickly. They'd call the cops if he contacted them, the Dean would be arrested and Castiel would never see him again. For some reason that thought made his heart clench. He didn't understand why but for some reason Dean was important. From the moment Castiel had caught his gaze behind his mask in the bank Dean had been important to him.

So no, he couldn't call anyone.

Sighing once more he pulled his tie from around his neck and threw it off to the side. After a quick search he found the remote and flipped through the channels, pausing when he saw the face of the teen boy he had killed staring back at him in an almost accusatory manner. Before he knew what was happening he was lurching onto his feet and rushing into the attached bathroom, going to his knees and emptying his mostly hollow stomach contents into the toilet bowl.

He dry heaved for long moments, chest hurting and throat raw as tears began to fall because….oh fuck! He had killed someone, a boy no less. Someone's child. And he had enjoyed it! Came from it!

Getting to his feet gracelessly he went to the sink, turned on the faucet until it was blazing hot and nearly burnt him, and scrubbed furiously at his hands.

"It's kind of late to start regretting it."


Castiel jerked his head up and looked at the younger man in through the mirror. His long, lean body resting on the doorway, and dark smirk playing on his lips.

"You know he thinks you're like him," Like him, Sam said, not like us. Because Sam didn't enjoy the killing part as much as Dean did, that was plain to see. "I told him he was wrong, but Dean, when he gets something in his head, it's hard to get it back out."

Castiel, saying nothing, turned off the faucet but did not turn around.

"Don't let him see you regret it. He'll kill you if you do."


"What, you think you're special or something?" Sam scoffed.

"Aren't I?" He asked. "Might be stupid of me, but something tells me Dean doesn't do this type of thing often."

"He's just obsessed with you, you talked back and people don't usually talk back to Dean. Once he's fucked you, he'll be done with you."

"And if he isn't?"

They had a small stare off, before Sam broke eye contact and looked off to the side.

"He will be."

Castiel turned now.

"It scares you that he might actually care about me."

"You don't know anything about me. Or about Dean." Sam said angrily.

"Maybe not, but I'm planning on sticking around to find out."

Sam turned to leave but Castiel stopped him with a question.

"Why come and warn me?"

Sam shrugged. "Just thought I'd offer some friendly advice."

"Well I don't need it, because I don't regret it." And it wasn't a lie, most of him didn't regret it no matter what that made him, but there was a small part of him that was whispering that it was wrong, that Dean was wrong. It didn't take much to smother the voice out and Castiel choose to ignore it, because wrong or not he wanted Dean.

But Sam didn't believe that.

"Of course you don't."