They say that rain means God is crying. Balthazar has no idea if that is true.

Castiel's lips are cold and wet, responsive in his unresponsive way. With his eyes closed, Balthazar probes in the desperate hope of sparking some connection, some memory, some link to the angel Castiel once was instead of the god he's becoming; he kisses Castiel as the heavens open and the rain tumbles down.

Water mats in their eyelashes and drips from their noses but it's worth it, it's all worth it, for the faintest moan when Castiel's lips finally part and allow him in.