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It is just the two of them alone together in the motel room, them and their combined thoughts, drowning them both in a never ending sea of silence, or maybe just words left unspoken, that neither can seem to break for air.Dean is not sure if he would rather be here, with him and his endlessly questioning eyes, or with Sammy in his place, with his knowing eyes and thoughtful, armchair therapist questions that only make more thoughts and questions spring up to the beginning of the line in his head. He think that maybe he’d rather just be alone, not a care in the world in his lonely freedom, but then Castiel’s eyes glint unnaturally blue against the seedy light of the room when he turns his head to look at him and he then thinks back on that thought as a stupid one, as if he thought about it years ago, during a different time, when he was a different man.He feels like a different man everyday. Every hour. Everytime Castiel looks at him. Castiel does or says something that no one has ever done before and the clock on his new identity starts over again. Castiel wraps a hand around his wrist and the clock stops, he feels exactly the same.It feels as if the two of them stay in the same hotel room for years. He almost one night to ask Castiel if he still has the power to stop time. Days go by and Dean feels like he is haunting the one room like the strangest ghost he had ever seen, one that no one even cares enough about to salt and burn. No one will ever see his cause of death in the newspaper and come help his trapped soul to the next life.His steps make a everlasting mark against the sidewalk in front of the motel rooms. For years to come people will follow in the invisible steps he left behind and somehow know that he was there. He feels like a spirit most then, walking back and forth along a salt line, trying to find someway out, a way to get away from his fate. He thinks that maybe he is already dead, in all the ways that count, some unknown cause of death that he and no one else will ever find out about. Maybe Castiel knows what happens to him, maybe that is why his eyes still continue to follow him back and forth.Castiel’s footprints stay in one place as he watches the back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, his eyes like a Grandfather clock in some old Southern lady’s home as they follow his movement. He never lets him go though, never kicks the line open, he only watches silent from where he leans up against the doorway. It feels like the cruelest thing that anyone has ever done to him. He doesn't ask him to let him go.The fury in their blood from the day spills over in the dark. A little whirlwind dance that the both of them have perfected from their time together. They are talking then they are shouting and screaming like two furious banshees until whoever has the misfortune of staying next door bangs heavily against the wall to shut them up. Neither of them gain or lose ground but they still choose to stay in the exact same spot beside each other, mudbound.They stare at each other from where they sit on separate beds, Dean’s chest pumping up and down from his breathless shouting and Castiel is calm. Dean falls back to lays his face down on the pillow and watches Castiel watch him. His eyes follow a path down Dean’s throat, as if there was absolution to be found in the hollow there. Dean does not ask him to come closer. Castiel doesn't come closer.It all comes to head one night after a partially physically night between the human and the rebel angel. Castiel’s head is cradled in the crook of Dean’s elbow and Dean breathes in deeply and openly against his temple as their naked chests stick together almost uncomfortably. Castiel slowly pulls back and they stare at each other while something seems to crackle in the air, a deadly mixture of electricity and arousal. The red light from the hotel sign casts a line of red across Castiel's face and Dean follows its path with his pinkie finger.“Why do you stay?” Dean whispers finally, one arm still hooked around the other man even as he pulls back a bit to breathe more deeply. Castiel looks away from his eyes for the first time and out the window and all that he has lost for the decision to stay flashes between them.“I shouldn’t want to. It makes me selfish.” Castiel whispers back, as if it was a secret that he didn’t want anyone else listening in on. Something he is terribly ashamed of even saying, but he has never been able to keep anything from him.Dean smooths a finger across the angel’s lips, soft beneath his finger. There is a faint quiver there and his tongue quickly darts out to wipe across his dirtied mouth. Dean feels it slice across the edge of his finger, warm and wet."But you do and I want you too. Maybe that makes us both selfish.” Dean replies just as quietly.