Title: In A World Gone Mad
Author: martyred-wings
Rating: NC-17
Genre and/or Pairing: slash, Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: For 5x01
Warnings: Sex in the Impala
Word Count: 2211 words
Summary: Has references to events in 5x01 throughout.


Dean walked away from Sam, felt the weight of Sam's gaze hanging in the air behind him, heavy with disappointment, with hurt, with such infinite sadness, that it almost broke Dean's heart to feel it upon his back. Still, he didn't stop; still he continued walking away, despite the vague moment of hesitation between his brother and his car; that brief hesitation where he'd almost turned back, forgiven his brother, apologized for everything he'd said.

Instead of doing that - closing the distance between them, and embracing his brother like Sam wanted him to - Dean turned away, climbed into his car, drove away without ever looking back. He sighed heavily in the deserted interior of the car, knew that he would see Sam again later; knew that his brother no doubt would get a cab back to the motel, almost didn't care that he had forced Sam's hand to do just that.

It just further enforced his words, that Dean was not ready to forgive his brother, to forget all that he had done, knew in his heart that he would never forgive, never forget. Sam and he were too far apart now, had been pushed apart by circumstances, through Sam's actions, of choosing Ruby over family, through being the one to start the apocalypse through killing Lilith.

As he drove, he thought again of the return of Meg, of the way she'd kissed him in the motel room, of Bobby's possession by a demon, of the way Bobby had threatened Sam, to sever all ties with Bobby himself once this was over. Dean relived the shock, the disbelief he'd felt at Bobby's words; even before he knew the fact that Bobby was actually possessed, he found he'd identified with the elder hunter's words, despite the shock of hearing them from him.

He blinked, eyes staring blindly ahead of him, still didn't flinch when Castiel arrived in the passenger seat, his gaze steady upon the road before him. Dean turned, glanced at the angel riding beside him, alerted by his arrival by the sound of his wings cutting heavily through the air, his sudden calming presence pressing against his own.

"Hey, Cas," Dean said, his voice glum, almost dead, even to his own ears.

To Dean, his tone just reflected the numbness he still felt deep inside, the way his heart was now cold, angry, unforgiving, and all because of his own brother.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Castiel said, his gruff voice cutting through the air, filling the car with its rich embrace, its calming effect, as his eyes were downcast in his own lap. "I really am sorry that this has happened."

"Not your fault, Cas. None of this is," Dean replied, knew that, in that, he spoke the truth; could never lie to the angel.

"I know, but still - I feel, I sympathize, I wish all this was other than what it is," Castiel said, voice softening, sounded genuinely upset.

Dean glanced at him once more, saw the sorrow held within the lines of Castiel's face, by the way his eyes were filled with pain, by the way his jaw clenched continuously, by the way his fingers clutched at the edges of his own coat.

"What happened to you, Cas? How comes you're back?" Dean asked, once more, shifting the focus of the conversation away from himself and back onto the angel.

"Too soon, Dean. I can't tell you that, not yet. I will, soon. When I'm ready," Castiel replied, and in the tone of his voice was held a promise.

Dean almost smiled at that; smiled ironically, rather than with humor. Unlike his brother, Castiel had never harmed him, had never willingly held out on him, at least not for long, had tried to help, had helped a lot at times. He had done far more for him than Sam had done, especially in recent times, and love washed through Dean, stronger than he'd ever felt it before, even towards Castiel, whom he loved more than himself.

He remembered again Castiel arriving after Zachariah had told Dean that he was Michael's sword, was his vessel, his weapon to be used in the fight against Lucifer, and again, Dean balked at the idea, would not bow down to Michael and let him use him, not even for this. He stopped that train of thought dead in its tracks, returned them to Castiel's arrival, at the way he'd fought his fellow angels and all because of Dean.

He blinked back sudden tears, before he said - "Thanks, Cas."

Castiel finally turned his gaze up to Dean's face, and the hunter felt their luminescent depths rest heavily upon his.

"For what, Dean?" the angel asked, voice quiet, knowing, wise, as though he already knew the answer.

"For saving me. For coming to my rescue when I needed it. For being there no matter what. For being you," Dean said, his voice quiet, more emotional, more heartfelt on the last admission than with any others before.

He felt Castiel's gaze leave his, felt rather than saw the angel glance out of the windshield at the dark night, the darker road stretching before them, felt peace settle in the car once more.

"You're welcome, Dean. You know I would always come to you," the angel stated, not questioned.

Dean didn't say anything, knew that Castiel would, without question, without complaint; knew that Castiel would always have his back no matter what happened.

"Where are we going?" Castiel suddenly asked, his voice gentle in the night.

Dean took a while to answer.

"I don't know, Cas. Just somewhere. Somewhere my brother isn't right now," he said, sadness welling in his soul, his voice, everything.

Castiel remained silent for a time, before he said - "Pull over, Dean."

He fell silent, remained sitting there, expectantly, until Dean did as he'd asked, silently; pulling the car onto the grass verge by the side of the road, before letting the engine idle, purring comfortingly into the night. He turned, to rest questioning eyes upon the angel, found Castiel's lips pressed suddenly against his own, silken surfaces working hungrily, needy against his. Dean almost pulled away in surprise, before he felt his emotions take over; love for Castiel, need, want, desperation, sadness, everything mixed together into one unrecognisable ball inside him, and he kissed Castiel back, hard, pushing him back against the seat, hands resting firmly on the angel's chest.

He heard Castiel's mewls of want work in his throat, felt his own answering mewls meet the angel's, felt relief pass through him; relief that the angel was alive, there, whole and sitting beside him, real beneath his hands, beneath his lips. He felt again the sadness, the almost crushing devastation he'd felt when Chuck had told him that Castiel was gone, dead, had picked a molar from his own hair, with an expression of disgust upon his face.

Dean pressed against Castiel, laced his fingers through the angel's dark hair, felt Castiel wrap his arms around his body , felt the relief, the need echoed in every movement, every kiss, every caress that Castiel bestowed upon him. He slipped his hand down Castiel's chest, stroked lovingly across his abdomen, before he cupped the angel's dick beneath now trembling fingers.

He felt such want, such need course through him, such desperation for the angel's body, for Castiel himself, needed to feel the angel beneath him, responding to him, to further ensure in his own mind that Castiel was really there. Castiel pulled away slightly, eyes closed, lips parted and kiss swollen, corners of his mouth curved upwards in a small smile, as Dean nuzzled his neck, nipping at the skin with his teeth, lapping with his tongue, mewls of need tickling against angelic neck.

Castiel caressed Dean's neck gently, groans getting louder, formed a pleasured - "yes!" - as he felt his dick become harder, fully erect beneath Dean's heavily stroking fingers. He pressed his palm to Dean's forehead, closed his eyes and with a will of effort moved them into the back seat with a brief flare of angelic light.

Dean didn't seem to notice, or else didn't seem to care, just accepted the move into the back seat like it was expected, needed, wanted. He continued nuzzling the angel's neck, groans of pleasure falling from his lips as he sucked a bruise into the perfect column of Castiel's throat. He unzipped Castiel's pants, slid his hand inside, pushed inside Castiel's boxers, and wrapped his fingers around the angel's throbbing erection, made Castiel cry out with pleasure, and his hips bucked up from the seat beneath him.

Castiel wanted Dean, wanted him inside him, wanted him to pleasure him, remind him that he still was alive, could feel, could still respond to Dean like he had so many times before. He fucked his hips hard into Dean's palm, whines of pleasure filling the car interior, growing stronger, louder, the closer he came to completion. He felt his orgasm building behind his navel, felt it threaten to consume him, gave in to it and let it roll him under, roll though him, as he cried out for Dean, head thrown back against the seat, body writhing in pleasure beneath the hunter's.

Dean leant in harder, claimed a kiss from Castiel's open, gasping mouth, sliding his tongue between willing, pliant lips, felt Castiel's tongue meet his, and entwine, fuck into each other's mouths hungrily. Castiel's hands pushed against Dean's shoulders, pushed until Dean's back was against the seat, before he straddled the hunter, legs astride him, eyes heavy with lust.

He stood as best he could in the tight confines of the car, pulled down his pants, kicked them away where they puddled in a heap against the door nearby. His boxers were flung carelessly on top of them, swiftly followed by Dean's jeans, his boxers when the hunter hastily removed them. Dean's arms stretched out for the angel, invited him back into their warm embrace, held ever outwards until Castiel straddled him once more, pouting lips pressed against Dean's cheek almost demurely.

Castiel collected some of his own still sticky come on questing fingers, before he reached round his own body, fingers stroking delicately against his own hole, head thrown back at the shudders of pleasure coursing through him with even that minimal contact. Dean watched him, watched the familiar flush pass across the angel's cheeks, heard the pleasured cry fall from Castiel's ripe mouth as the angel pressed one slick finger inside himself.

Dean waited, watched, dick throbbing, hard, needy, wanted to be inside the angel, wanted to fuck him again, like so many times before,. He reached greedily for Castiel, eased the angel's hand from his own hole, heard the cry of protest fall from the angel's lips, as Castiel cast a glare down upon him. The hunter spat into his own hand , spread the saliva eagerly over his dick, before he settled Castiel closer into his body.

The angel's breath hitched within his throat, eyes growing wide, as his lips parted at the feel of Dean slowly easing his erection between his cheeks. He cried out when he felt Dean stretch him, enter him, tightened around him with a small sound of discomfort, before he waited for the burn, the pain to pass. He sank down upon Dean, until the hunter was fully sheathed inside him, bodies shuddering against each other at the shared pleasure.

Dean slowly withdrew, moaning at the exquisite feel of Castiel's tight warmth wrapped around his cock, thrust deep inside the angel once more, made Castiel moan and writhe against him as he rubbed across his prostate. Their bodies slowly found a rhythm, rocking and thrusting sinuously together, as tension built up, excitement was shared, moans combining, turning into full blown cries, growing louder.

Dean rested his forehead against Castiel's chest, screamed out the angel's name as he orgasmed, filled Castiel with his come upon release, held onto Castiel as though the angel was his last lifeline. He continued rocking into Castiel, riding out the last of his orgasm, heard Castiel come noisily on top of him, felt the angel's release hot and sticky against his partially exposed abdomen. Their bodies gradually slowed, stopped, left them staring at each other intently, Dean still sheathed tight inside Castiel.

Castiel leant forward, pressed a grateful kiss against Dean's mouth, felt the hunter respond just as gratefully, with just as much need and love held within. Despite the tension in the world around them, despite the very real threat of Lucifer walking free among them, both of them knew that they had each other, and always would have.

Not even death could keep them apart; Castiel had proved that, had come back from death itself for Dean, had saved Dean, still loved Dean with everything he had. The hunter held onto Castiel, felt love consume him, obliterate the bitterness he held for Sam. In renouncing Sam, he'd strengthened his love for Castiel. He knew that no matter what happened, Castiel would never disappoint him, would never compromise their love, would always be there, and come back for him. At last he'd found peace, in a world gone mad around his ears ...