Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I’m so sorry… oh god… I’m sorry… I can’t—it won’t…”

Whatever else Dean tries to say gets lost in more gross sobbing. He can feel Aaron footing around, probably unsure of what to do with the grown man’s hysterical breakdown.

“Look, babe… it’s all right… happens to all of us.”

Not to me , Dean thinks, except he lets out a pitiful whine instead. The comforting hand he’d been expecting finally lands on his shoulder.

“Would you like me to leave? Or maybe I could call someone for you?”

“Nobo—nobody—all dead,” Dean is able to muster as he doubles on the waterworks. Concentrating his efforts on the young Aaron Bass really had been the best idea. The proof came with the man wrapping comforting arms around Dean.

“You gotta have friends, don’t you? There has to be—”

“There’s nobody,” Dean murmurs through sniffles, trying to ring in the tears. He’d given enough of a show already. “People are crap. Or maybe I’m the one that’s crap. Everyone always abandon me. Then I moved here and—”

Dean cuts himself off and goes for the open bottle of Jack on the bedside table. He doesn’t have time to take a swig that Aaron gently takes it out of his hand.

“That’s not gonna help, Dean.”

“Says you!” he spits, motioning to grab the bottle again. Aaron moves it out of the way to put it on the floor.

“I was right where you are, babe. Believe me, I know!” He sits back on the bed, his body lined up alongside Dean’s. “Everything seems real bad right now, but it’s an illusion.”

“Me having no cash, no talent, and no family, that’s not an illusion, man. It’s fucking facts!” Dean lets out some sort of hiccup, hinting he’s doing all he can to hold the pain inside. “I’m fucking useless… and a useless drunk at that.”

When he starts crying again, Dean gets wrapped in an even tighter hug, Aaron burying a hand in his hair to massage his scalp. The man’s other hand lifts up to rest on Dean’s cheek, warm and comforting.

“I’m sorry,” Dean says again, his voice nothing but a rough whisper. “I wish I knew how… I wish I had hope.” As he speaks, his lips catch on Aaron’s stubbled skin. He quells the smile threatening to grace his lips when he feels him shiver.

It’s a good thing that he did because Aaron now has both hands cradling his face. Their eyes are locked together and if there’s a moment Dean needs to act his way to a damn Oscar, that’s it. If he usually can be anybody and do anything, having to play out intimacy has to be the most difficult thing for him.

“Hope is all around you, Dean. You only have to let yourself see it.”

Aaron gently presses his lips against his. It’s nothing compared to their more heated making out session from earlier, yet it makes Dean cringe. He has to close his eyes to steel himself.

“I’ve got nothing to live for,” Dean says this time. He takes a deep breath before opening his eyes again to meet Aaron’s, knowing the time has come. “I’d rather just be dead.” He leaves Aaron’s hold and goes to grab the bottle from the floor. He takes a couple of big gulps before wiping his mouth with his naked arm. “What do you say we go to Vegas? I’ll be Nicolas Cage and you can be my Elisabeth Shue. We’ll drink and fuck until I die like the scum that I am.”

“So… I’m the whore in this scenario?”

“Not really… got no money so I can’t pay you. Even gotta leave this room in the morning ‘cause I can’t pay for another night. Might as well go to Vegas.”

Dean doesn’t try and take back the bottle Aaron steals again. “How are you gonna go to Vegas if you have no money? Or even pay for booze?”

You’re losing him, Winchester… reel him back in. Now!

“Fuck you and your logic,” he spits, once more going for the bottle that’s back on the ground. This time, Aaron stop him by softly cupping him through his underwear. Their eyes lock together as Aaron tries once more to bring Dean’s limp dick to life.

“It’s no use,” Dean says as he bats the hand away. “I’m useless, I tell you. Can’t even fuck I’m so messed up.” Luckily for Dean, he can cry at the drop of a hat, so he starts sobbing again. “You’re so sexy… I should want you… I want you… it’s my dick! I’m fucking broken!”

“Maybe if you just lay off the booze it’ll—”

“Go! I can drink myself to death on my own. Don’t need you!”

This time, Aaron isn’t as gentle when he takes the bottle out of Dean’s hand. Not only does he take it, he goes to the bathroom to empty it in the drain. It’s enough for Dean to think back to his actual childhood, when he did the same thing to his dad and got the lights knock out of him for his trouble.

He knows trying to beat up Aaron would be the most believable reaction, except he needs the guy to want to help him. So instead he gets off the bed, screaming, and trips on his feet before falling face first. Then he starts crying again. As expected, sweet Aaron comes back into the room to drop to his knees next to Dean.

“You gotta do something, Dean. You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

“I’ll—I’ll kill myself—then I won’t let you down no more… won’t let anyone down…”

“You’re only letting yourself down, babe.” Aaron grabs his face again so he can look Dean in the eye. “I know a place…”

Dean’s heart skips a beat. Yes, there we go…

“I’m not going to a damn clinic,” Dean says, because that’s what anyone would say. That’s what he would say. That’s what his dad said…

“It’s nothing like that,” Aaron promises, rubbing Dean’s cheeks with his thumbs. “It’s more like a community. A little group of people coming together to take a break from all their crap.”

“Told you I ain’t got cash.”

“Doesn’t cost a cent. It’s more like… it’s like going to crash at a friend’s house for some time. All they’ll ask in return is that you pull your weight. Kinda like those communes from the 70’s.”

“Gotta say, not much into group sex or hairy chicks.”

Aaron bursts into laughter then kisses Dean on the forehead. “Not that kind of commune… went there myself a couple of years ago, had issues to work out.”

“What issues?”

The sudden blush on Aaron’s face makes him look even younger. “I’d rather not talk about it… it’s in the past, better to leave it alone. I can say booze was only the smallest of my problems.” Aaron kisses Dean again, this time on the lips, before getting back to his feet and pulling Dean up with him. “What do you say we just go to sleep?”

“Not tired,” Dean manages to mumble. All the booze is actually starting to mess him up and he could go for a nap. But he’s too close to be getting what he’s been working so hard for. “Tell me more about that place.”

“There’s not much to say. It’s just somewhere you can take a load off.”

Dean lets out a trembling sigh. “I could use that.”

The smile on Aaron’s face is an understanding one. “I’ll give you the address, but only if you come to bed with me.”

Dean looks down at himself, waving a hand at his crotch. “It don’t work.”

“If I were a total asshole, I’d tell you that your mouth and hands seem to be working fine, but I’m kinda beat myself.” Aaron grabs Dean by the hand to pull him toward the bed. “And who knows… maybe little Dean will be in better dispositions in the morning.”

That’s not happening , Dean brain supplies as he lets himself be lead to the bed.

They both get on it, silently debating who’d be the big spoon until Dean stops fighting it and accepts Aaron lining up against his back. He sighs, trying to ignore the man’s dick snug against his asscrack. It’s not the first time he’s found himself in that situation, but it never gets any easier.

He stays still and waits, keeping an ear on Aaron’s breathing. It doesn’t take long for it to even out and as soon as he can, Dean moves his hips forward to at least put a bit of space between them.

When Aaron doesn’t stir, Dean lets out a relieved breath. He also tries to move his upper body forward, freezing when Aaron snorts and moves back into Dean’s heat.

Son of a bitch!

It takes a bit of time for Dean to fall asleep. And when he wakes up again, he could have sworn he’d only closed his eyes a minute ago. As his brain comes back online, he notices a presence in his back. Said presence is rocking an insistent hardness against the cleft of his ass. Dean tenses up, only now remembering he’d been sleeping next to Aaron. And then he remembers the reason he’d been sleeping next to Aaron.

Aaron, who had hoped Dean’s impotency would be resolved once the alcoholic fog had lifted. What Aaron doesn’t know is that whatever he tries, little Dean won’t come to attention for him. Or any other dude for that matter. Not now, and not ever.

Which kind of explains why Dean chooses to fling himself off the bed when Aaron’s hand goes to dip below Dean’s waistband.

“Dean?” Aaron says, startled. Dean doesn’t answer, instead running to the bathroom and shutting the door close. He locks the door while jamming a couple of fingers down his throat. He just has time to kneel next to the toilet before starting to puke as loudly as he can.

The door handle soon rattles, then knuckles rap on the wood. “Dean? Unlock the door, would you? Let me in.”

“I’m ok—” Dean only gets to say before a genuine fit of nausea hits him. Being easily grossed out has to be some kind of advantage in these types of situations. So he lets it happen, emptying his stomach and groaning for a good five minutes.

Once done, he brushes his teeth, glad to see the reflection in the mirror looking utterly miserable. There’s no way Aaron will try to put his hands on him again today. All Dean needs now is for Aaron to give him Paradysum’s address and he’ll be on his way.

When he comes out of the bathroom, it’s to find Aaron has put his clothes back on.

“You’re leaving?” Deans asks, a hint of sadness in his voice. He crosses his arms over his naked chest and walks up to him. “I’m really sorry for the shitty date.”

Dean bristles when Aaron wraps a hand over his hip and leans up to kiss his jaw. “No need to be sorry, Dean. I had a nice time, really.”

“Liar.”

Aaron chuckles softly before taking a step back. “I have to go to work, otherwise I’d rather be spending the day with you. I was serious last night, though… I think you could benefit from a change of scenery,” he says, handing Dean a folded piece of paper. Dean takes it, unfolding it to read the expected address written on it. He might have gotten what he wanted, he still has a role to play. So he huffs and rolls his eyes.

“How the fuck do you expect me to get to Vermont?”

“If you really want to go, you’ll find a way, babe,” Aaron says. He lifts a hand to Dean’s stubbled jaw, a soft smile on his face. “And maybe when you’re doing better and come back to New York, you could look me up again?”

“Yeah… all right…” Dean takes a step forward, and dips down to kiss Aaron on the lips. “Thank you, man… I mean it.”

“I know.” Aaron gives Dean a sad smile as he walks to the door. He holds onto the knob and stops before opening it, looking back at Dean. “Promise you’ll take care of yourself, okay? I got their number, I’ll be checking up on you.”

Dean only nods and waves Aaron goodbye, waiting to hear the man’s car driving away before rushing to his phone. He thumbs through it until he finds the appropriate contact.

“Bradbury,” he hears after a single ring.

“Hey, Charlie! It’s me…” he announces as he sits on the bed, leaning against the headboard with his feet up on the mattress.

“Dean! Was hoping to hear from you today. How’s everything going?”

“I’m in… I’m leaving for Vermont today.”

“Great job, Dean. I’ll let the boss know. Got all you need?”

“I do. I’ll call you again once I’m there. Over and out.”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

SIX WEEKS EARLIER…

S.S.A. Robert Singer – who for some reason would let his team call him Bobby – hardly ever called urgent meetings on the weekend. Still, everyone has been summoned early on a Saturday morning. They all look quite morose as they walk into the conference room, sitting in silence and nursing their coffees as they wait for their boss to join them.

Bobby looks just a tiny bit more alive than his team when he walks in, followed by an unknown woman in a sheriff’s uniform. Would there be a new addition to the team?

“Good morning, everyone. I’d like to introduce you to Washington County’s sheriff, Jody Mills.” She smiles and nods while Bobby introduces her to everyone.

“Jody, please meet Agents Charlie Bradbury, Benny Lafitte, Lisa Braeden, Dean Winchester, and Rufus Turner. Here we got Kevin Tran, our genius technical analyst.”

“Pleasure to meet you all,” she says before sitting on the chair Bobby has pulled for her.

“Kevin? Can you start us up?” Bobby asks as he sits next to Jody. The younger man nods and goes to stand next to the screen with his tablet. As he speaks, he makes different images appear on the screen.

“Okay… so, there’s this place in Vermont near Montpelier… looks like some sort of commune and it’s been on the FBI’s watch list for a while now.”

“Why?” Rufus asks.

“Well, there’s reasons to believe they could be some sort of undercover organisation. Intelligence leans toward drug related activities, or even gangsterism. It could also be some kind of sect, we’re just not sure yet.”

“What does this have to do with us?” Dean asks. “Shouldn’t Organized Crimes be investigating them?”

“Indeed, and they were,” Bobby confirms. “But the game’s changed and I requested that we take over.”

“This is Anna Milton,” Kevin announces, dragging his fingers across his tablet to show the corpse of a young redheaded girl. “She lived in that commune called Paradysum, been living there for a little over a year. Two days ago, she was found in a ditch in the outskirts of Montpelier, about halfway between there and the house. It’s been made to look like a massive overdose.”

“Made to look like…?”

This time, it’s Sheriff Mills who speaks. “I knew Anna,” she says, faint tremors tainting her voice. “I also know she once had substance abuse problems, but she’d been doing good for a long time now. She was a good kid.”

“You gotta know relapsing is pretty common,” Dean provides, to which Jody nods.

“It is, but our M.E. is adamant to the fact that she didn’t die where we found her. Her body was moved and dumped post-mortem. Overdose is still the cause of death, we’re just not sure if she was drugged or did this to herself. Doesn’t matter though; whatever happened, someone moved her.”

The agents nod and look back at the screen where Kevin has prompted another set of pictures which oddly look similar to the ones featuring Anna Milton.

“These are from a similar case four years ago. Same dump site, another apparent overdose. Except it being self-inflicted wasn’t disputed at the time.”

“Why not?”

The sheriff harrumphs before jumping back in. “We’ll never know. The M.E. who did the autopsy died in a car accident a couple of months after that. We only dug this case back up because his former assistant is now our M.E. When Anna was brought in, she remembered that other one.”

“Another drug user, then?”

“She’s a Jane Doe, can’t say we have much on her. All we know is that she introduced herself as Flagstaff when she went to seek refuge at Paradysum.”

New pictures come up on screen, this time showing some kind of mansion.

“Paradysum,” Kevin announces, swiping through the surveillance pictures. “Belongs to one James Novak. He inherited it when his father passed. This guy has a squeaky clean background. Never even got caught running a red light.” A picture of a dark haired man’s driver’s license appears on screen. “He moved in years ago and has been calling himself Castiel ever since. He’s pretty much in charge of whatever’s going on over there. They grow vegetables and some fruits, have hens for eggs, goats for milk. They also tend to bees… and whatever they don’t consume, they sell.”

“That looks like a wholesome way of life,” Charlie says. “Not one I’d ever lead because, hello, video games and stuff!”

Kevin grins at her. “Yeah… not sure they even have TVs in that place. They don’t have cable, this much I know. We have yet to have eyes on the inside. What we know is that they’re almost entirely off the grid… they get their electricity from the solar panels on the roof.” Another picture appears on the screen, this time straight up taken off of Google Maps. “The only things tying them up to the rest of us are a single landline and a van they hardly ever use, also registered to James Novak. Most of the time, they ride bikes or drive an actual horse carriage into town to sell their produce.”

“Okay… that’s nice and all, but again. What does this all have to do with us?” Lisa asks, to which Dean nods in approval.

S.S.A. Singer harrumphs. “I’ve known Jody for close to fifteen years now… we worked together once, became good friends.” He gives her a warm smile. “Anna Milton was somebody close to her and her team. She was the assistant medical examiner’s girlfriend. And the assistant is the medical examiner’s own son. See where I’m getting at here?”

Lisa squints her eyes. “That same medical examiner who said Miss Milton’s been murdered?”

Sheriff Mills intervenes once more. “I know what you’re thinking, but I promise you, Dr. Milligan’s been thorough in her investigation.”

“I’m not disputing that, but it seems a bit thin to ask for the FBI’s involvement, isn’t it? Pretty sure you could be investigating this yourselves.”

“I would usually agree with you, Agent Braeden, but—”

“Lisa.”

“As I said, Agent Braeden, I would normally agree with you, but it’s not only one death. It’s two, apparently. And you’re not wrong to think that we may be a bit too close to the case. Emotionally, I mean.”

“Two deaths four years apart, that’s hardly a pattern, Sheriff.” Dean waves at everyone sitting around the table. “That’s a lot of fire power for something this small.”

“We’re not all getting in on this, Dean. What we need is one person on the inside.”

“And you want us to do this because…?”

“Because there might be a murderer on the loose, and there’s a big chance they’re living in that house. Plus, it’s kinda what we do.” Bobby grinning this wide never bodes well, in Dean’s opinion. “Well… in this particular case, it’s what you do.”

Dean jaw slackens in shock. “Me? I just got back from a shit mission that lasted three whole months. Three months, Bobby. Kinda deserve a break, don’t you think?”

“Come on, Dean… what else are you gonna do? Catch up on your reading? Knit a couple of sweaters? We all know you’ll gets antsy if you don’t start up a new investigation soon.”

It doesn’t matter how much Dean would love to dispute Lisa’s words, he can’t. She has first hand knowledge of Dean’s sometimes unhealthy work methods. It had cost him their relationship, after all. It happened a long time ago, almost ten years, but he still regrets going so far that she’d felt she couldn’t be with him anymore.

He has a thought for that kid of hers that isn’t his and smiles. At least they had been able to remain close enough to stay friends and keep working together. “Speaking of? How’s my favorite godson?”

“Ben’s great… he has soccer practice on Saturday mornings,” Lisa says, glancing at their boss. “I hope we can get out of here soon because otherwise, I’ll have to ask another parent to take care of him until I get back. And he hates that.”

Bobby smiles. “I don’t think you’ll need to be here much longer. As soon as we know who’s going to be infiltrating Paradysum, most of us should be able to go home.”

Lisa turns to Dean, a teasing smile on her lips. “I thought you’d decided it’d be Dean.”

It’s Kevin who chimes in this time. “There might be some issues we haven’t discussed yet.” He swipes a finger over his screen again and a very grainy picture appears on the TV. It just isn’t grainy enough not to know what they’re looking at.

Benny squints his eyes. “Is this—”

“That’s James Novak, or Castiel, yes.”

“And who’s that with him?”

“We don’t know,” Sheriff Mills provides. “Might be an old friend of his, somebody just passing through, or even an escort… we have no clue.”

Dean’s throat goes dry as he considers the scene pictured. “What makes you think I’m the right person for this job?” he asks, keeping his eyes on the TV screen. “I don’t know what you’re expecting me to do, but I’m not about to sleep with some dude just to—”

“Jesus, Dean! Of course not,” Bobby interjects. “What would make you think I want you to sleep with the guy?”

Dean’s eyes widens as he motions to the screen. “You tell me!”

“As far as we know, James Novak isn’t gay,” Kevin says as a new picture appear on screen. It shows a younger James Novak in a tight hot pink bathing suit, diving off a deck into a lake.

“Looks pretty gay to me,” Rufus chimes in.

A new picture appears, this one showing James Novak in a dark suit kissing a blond woman in a fluffy white dress. More pictures appear, Novak always posing with that same woman. The team looks on as part of the man’s life plays out on screen, from the woman’s growing belly to the kid that appears in the later pictures. It ends with a newspaper article about an accident from sixteen years earlier.

“James Novak lost his wife Amelia and their 2 year-old daughter Claire in a car accident. They were hit full force by a drunk driving a semi.” Another picture appears, this one from the official police report. “They were driving back from church on a Sunday morning. The driver was a repeat offender and he’d been locked-up for life, as you might imagine. That didn’t pan out as the man died less than three years into his sentence.”

“Jesus…” Lisa breathed when a new picture appears, this one of the woman and child’s bodies mangled in the wrecked car they saw before.

“Okay, so the guy was married, not gay,” Dean says. “Still… why me?”

Charlie drops a hand on his shoulder as she speaks. “I think Novak may be bisexual and we all know you can charm the pants off of anyone when you put your mind to it.”

“I’d rather not have him take his pants off, thank you very much.”

“Again, we’re not asking you to do this. I just think you have the better chance of getting close to the guy. Plus, you’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t living with those guys… and, it was just a bit of kissing. Never had to go any further than that. Horny drunk dudes will tell you anything if you’re convincing enough.” He turns to Lisa and grins. “Am I right?”

She grins back at him and nods. “He’s not wrong.”

“Now imagine me trying to ‘seduce’ this guy who’s gonna be horny and probably not all that drunk… and I can’t say I gotta go back home ‘cause I work early in the morning. See what I’m getting at?”

Sheriff Mills, who hasn’t said a word in a while, offers Dean a crooked smile. “That’s pretty much our daily struggle, Agent. Going on a date and getting to worry about how the guy might react if we dare say no to him. Making sure people know where we are in case we meet a douche who’s gonna put something in your drink while we’re in the bathroom. Having someone we trust to know something might be wrong when we don’t check in.”

Of course Dean knows about all that. He works in the fucking Violent Crimes unit of the FBI. Still, because he gets the feeling she may be speaking from personal experience, he just nods before catching his superior’s gaze.

“All right… I’ll do this. I’ll find some reason to not wanna be intimate or something, if it ever comes to that, I mean. So what… I just go there and knock on the door?”

“Glad you asked,” Kevin says, doing whatever on his tablet so that the images on the TV change again. This time, three different people appear, seemingly all nabbed from personal social media feeds. “As I said earlier, this place has been on the FBI’s radar for some time. A couple of agents tried to infiltrate Paradysum before, but they were never offered to stay. Seems to be a word-of-mouth kinda thing. They had just gotten recommended by someone who’d already been there when the investigation got transferred to us.”

Kevin puts the tablet on the table to go back and point at the TV. “This guy here, Aaron Bass, lives in New York and works in a café with open mic nights. He came back from a long stay at Paradysum something like three years ago and, as far as we know, he’s given the address to four people who also ended up spending some time at Paradysum. He was actually the one to give the info to the other unit’s agent. Except, since we don’t know if Bass speaks to Novak to announce possible arrivals, we can’t take the chance to use anything unless it’s given to you personally.”

Dean agrees with a nod. “How about the blond? She’s cute…”

Lisa glances at her watch. “Bobby? Since we know it’s Dean who’s going undercover, can the rest of us be dismissed?”

“Oh yeah, your kid… hmm… I’d need another agent to be Dean’s primary contact. Someone who’s gonna need to stay in order to know everything about this case.”

“I don’t mind doing it,” Charlie offers. “Plus, I’d be the best resource for Dean when he gets his unavoidable gay panic after meeting that Novak guy.”

“You—you get your unavoidable gay panic!” Dean says, to which Charlie laughs.

“Been there, done that… if panic means hitting on every skirt I ever lay eyes on.”

Benny is the first to get up, stretching his arms over his head with a loud sigh. “Dunno about you guys, but I think I’d like to finish this with pancakes at Biggerson’s. Who’s with me?”

Five minutes later, Dean, Charlie, Bobby, Sheriff Mills, and Kevin are the only ones left in the conference room.

“So?” Dean asked. “The blond girl?”

“Lenore Benson. She’s one of the few we’ve had eyes on, and as far as we know, she hasn’t sent anyone to Novak yet. She could be a hard one to crack.”

“No, not her… the other blond. The really hot one! Wouldn’t mind getting with her to get infos.”

“Dammit, Dean… could you cool it with the macho attitude? We get it, you’re straight,” Charlie says, punctuating her spiel by hitting him on the shoulder.

“The other blond is Jamie Sward… works as a waitress in her hometown of Canonsburg, Pennsylvania. She sent someone Novak’s way about two years ago. Her childhood friend, Lucy Dignard, who’d been through rough time.” Kevin looks up at Dean. “It didn’t help, though. She came back after only a couple of months only to slash her wrists in her mom’s basement.”

Nobody needs to say it; Dean very well knows what conclusion to draw from all of this. He looks around to see four pairs of expecting eyes on him.

“I’ll be going to New York, I guess… Aaron Bass is my best bet.”

Bobby gets to his feet, clearly eager to resume the weekend the way it should be. “While I take my friend out for breakfast, you guys can figure out the rest, right?” he asks, already steering Sheriff Mills toward the door.

“Sure thing, boss,” Charlie answers. “Nice to have met you, Sheriff.”

“Same here… thank you all for looking into this. And Agent Winchester?” She waits for him to be looking at her. “You’ll tell me when you’re on the field, right?”

“My team will tell you when I’m in your neck of the woods,” he confirms, waving her and Bobby goodbye. “So… anything else I need to know, Kev? Or can we go have some breakfast, too? I’m starving.”

Kevin smiles as he pushes a pile of thick dockets toward Dean. “I have printed copies of the investigation so far. The first one on top has all you need to know about Aaron Bass.”

Of course he’d already known Bass was the best choice. That damn kid always seems to be a step ahead of everybody in this place. Dean takes the docket while Charlie grabs the second one to flip through it. “I’ll read that shit at home. What else?”

“That’s pretty much it for now. Once you’ve read it, then we can go over your cover identity.”

“Not my first rodeo, kid,” Dean says, offering the team’s youngest member a crooked smile. What he hadn’t been counting on is to see a similar smile creep up Kevin’s features. “What?”

“Forgot to mention this one tiny thing about Aaron Bass… it’s in the docket, but I kinda wanna see your face when you learn about it.”

Dean swallows.

“Bass is gay, and he’s only ever given Paradysum’s info to his lovers. So… yeah… guess you’re gonna have at least to be a little bit gay.”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

“That little shit! I swear I’m gonna reach down his stupid khakis and give him the wedgie of all wedgies.”

Dean paces around the living room, regularly pausing long enough to scowl at his brother who’s cackling on the couch. Like anytime Dean has to leave on a covert mission, he’s invited his brother for dinner, to keep him in the loop. Not that he can say much about his missions, but he always finds a way to share as much as he can. Kevin Tran telling Dean he’ll have to be a ‘little bit gay’ was the kind of info he knew he should have kept to himself. His little brother shouldn’t have to know the extent of what he might have to do, or with whom he’d have to do them.

When he’s had enough of Sam laughing, Dean comes to sit on the couch and punches him on the shoulder, hard enough to make the younger Winchester yelp.

The laughter subsides as Sam turns to give Dean one of his epic bitch faces. “That hurt, you jerk!”

“Only because you’re a sensitive little bitch!”

“Looks to me like you’re the sensitive little bitch, Dean. Who cares if you gotta kiss some dude?”

Dean squints at him, about to remind him he’s been laughing his ass off about that only a second ago. Instead, he shrugs and leans back. “I don’t care about that… not really.”

“What is it then?” However frustrating his little brother can be at times – because that’s what little brothers do – he’s still easy to talk to and usually has great insights. Not that Dean would ever tell him that.

“I’m told the mark is the kind of guy to talk to his lovers. Where I come from, lovers don’t just kiss and hold hands, you know what I mean?”

“I see… why are you the one doing this, then? Can’t any of the other guys do this?”

It’s Dean’s turn to erupt in laughter. “Ah man… Rufus is out of the question. Even if he was into men, he’s no spring chicken and it doesn’t seem like the mark’s into old men anyway. And Benny, well… just… nope! He tried once to pick-up this guy on a mission and it was disastrous.” Dean grins, thinking back to that day. “To help him out of his pickle, I had no choice but to kiss him.” He starts laughing again. “Kissing a dead fish would have been more enjoyable, I swear.”

The brothers keep laughing as Dean recounts the story, without too many details. They’re still laughing when the pizza gets there. It’s enough to sober them up a bit, Dean dropping the box on the coffee table while Sam goes to grab a couple more beers from the fridge.

“What are you gonna do if the guy tries to get in your pants?” Sam asks when he sits back on the couch, handing Dean a beer.

“I’ll have to be dad,” Dean says around his bite of pizza, wagging his brows.

“In what sense?”

“Remember that lady he brought back home this one time?”

“He brought back lots of ladies, Dean…”

“Yeah, but the last one? Or the one before that? Annie something? Remember how she threw a bitch fit when dad couldn’t—”

“Ooooooh… that lady.” Sam nods in agreement and bites into his slice. “So you’re going for the limp dicked drunk, then?”

“Yup! Best plan ever. See, the guy I gotta go after, he works in a café that has open mic nights—”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Oh yeah, I will dare! Bringing my guitar and everything.”

Sam doesn’t even miss a beat. “But you suck, Dean. You can’t sing for shit, and your guitar skills are—”

“Awful, I know.” Dean grins wide, bits of pizzas stuck in his teeth. “I’ll be a limp dicked drunk who thinks he has a shot at becoming a rock star. Neat, huh?”

“A ‘gay’ limp dicked drunk who thinks he has a shot at becoming a rock star.”

A bit of pizza crust gets stuck in Dean throat. He needs to clear it before answering, chasing the offending bits of food down with some more beer. “Yeah… that too…”

They stop talking to plow through the large pizza and sixer of DelSol Sam had brought. When they’re done, they both lean back on the sofa, their feet on the coffee table.

“So… what does Cassie think of all this?” Sam asks after a while, his gaze on the muted football game playing on TV.

“What does Cassie think of what?” Dean asks back, him too fixated on the game.

“You know… you having to get with some guy to get the info. Or with anyone, really. It’s basically cheating, isn’t it?”

“It’s like asking if people married to actors get jealous of their costars. That’d be stupid, wouldn’t it?”

“Acting’s pretty different, Dean. For starters, they don’t have to fuck anyone for real.” Sam notices his brother’s grin and decides to cut him off before he gets to comment. “I mean real movies, Dean. Not that porn crap you love to watch.”

“Like you don’t watch porn ever…” Dean still says, rolling his eyes. He turns back to the TV, which is enough for Sam to believe Dean will never answer his questions. Until he does.

“Maybe it could be considered cheating if we were together, Sammy. Except I haven’t even seen Cassie since coming back from that Los Angeles job.”

“Why not?”

Dean shrugs. “Kinda had a fight before I left that last time… she gave me an ultimatum and, well, Dean Winchester doesn’t do ultimatums.”

“Oh, Dean… you gotta stop this shit. You’ll never find anyone to share your life with if—”

“Because you’re one to talk, huh, Sammy?”

When Sam turns toward his brother, it’s to scowl at him… again. “I found someone to share my life with,” he counters.

“See, you say that, but did you give her the ring yet?” Before Sam can answer, Dean scoffs at him. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

“Marriage is not something you rush into, Dean.”

“You and Eileen have been together for four years. Four years, Sam. I wouldn’t say you’re rushing into anything at this point.”

“So?”

“Even I know that if you haven’t asked a girl to marry you after four years together, it means you’ll never do it.”

“You know I will.”

Dean chuckles. “I do… I know you wanna marry this girl. You’ve been carrying this damn ring for almost a year now.” He leans toward his brother and wiggles a finger in his face. “I know that, but she doesn’t. And Beyonce said it, man; you gotta put a ring on it.”

The corners of Sam’s mouth curl up, if only a little. “Didn’t take you for a Beyonce fan, Dean.”

“Shut up! You know what I mean. If you don’t ask her, she’s gonna find another dude to marry her.”

Sam crosses his arms over his chest. “Whatever… I believe we were talking about Cassie?”

“We were, and now we’re talking about Eileen. If you don’t want that awesome chick of yours to do like Cassie and get out of dodge, you gotta do something about it.”

“What if she turns me down?” Sam asks in a small voice. “Worse, what if she says yes then dumps my ass at the church like Jess did?”

Dean has to swallow his rage down, like anytime the subject of Jessica Moore comes up. He’d loved the girl as if she’d been his own sister or some shit and then she’d gone and broke Sammy’s immense heart. Said heart had never been the same since, both frail and hard as a rock.

“She didn’t deserve you, you know that, right?”

Sam lets out a sad chuckle. “That’s not what you said before she dumped me. You said I’d nabbed myself the best girl in the world.”

“Yeah! And then she dumped your ass on your fucking wedding day. That makes her a bitch in my book and you’ll never convince me otherwise. I swear, if I wasn’t on the right side of the law, I would have buried somewhere in the Nevada desert. Only up to her stupid neck, though. And then I’d have stayed there to watch the vultures pick the flesh off her dumb gorgeous face.”

Like everytime Dean starts spewing his hate toward Jess, Sam has to laugh. Mostly because he knows Dean would never do anything to harm the girl, no matter how pissed at her he was. And he always comes up with these extreme scenarios that are enough for Sam to get out of that depressed headspace the memory of Jessica Moore almost always puts him in.

“Would you take pictures?” he asks.

“I’d make a fucking video, dude. I’d add some shit techno music and make a damn song out of her screams of pain.” Dean turns to Sam and grins. “I’d put it on the Internet and make a shitton of money from it. Which I’d use to pay for your lawyer services after being arrested and shit.”

They start laughing again, much harder this time. As they do, Dean can’t help but dread the moment his brother will have to go back home. It means that Dean will need to finish packing. Not that he can bring much stuff if he’s to play the poor dude with nothing to his name.

“You promise not to drive Baby, huh?” Dean asks when he spots his keychain in the corner of his eye.

“You know I won’t… anyway, I got my own car, and it’s much better for the environment. That gas-guzzling monster of yours should have been made illegal by now.”

Dean gapes at Sam. “You take that back!”

“Nope… you should be glad I think this way, though. Means I don’t lie when I say I won’t be driving your car. She’ll stay here, tucked under her tarp in the garage, waiting for daddy to come home.” He looks around and smiles. “I see you don’t have plants for me to water anymore?”

“You killed the last one ‘cause you were too lazy.”

“It was already dead when you left.”

“Whatever,” Dean says, kicking his brother's foot with his own. “I was serious about Eileen, though. You know that, right?”

“I know. I will ask her, I’m just… it’s never the right moment, you know?”

“If you got time to fuck her, you got time to ask for her hand.”

Sam kicks Dean back, much harder. “Do you have to be so gross?”

“Fine… if you got time to make sweet and girly love to her, you got time to give her a ring. Better?”

The answers Dean receives are another kick and an offended huff. “You’re lame.”

“Aww, Sammy… you know you love me.”

“The line between love and hate is a thin one.”

“That’s my boy,” Dean replies, rubbing an energetic hand in Sam’s flowing locks. “Or, you know… my girl.”

“I fucking hate you!”

The next morning, Dean is on the sidewalk, waiting for his brother to pick him up. He’s wearing his oldest pair of jeans, the ones that sag in all the wrong places the denim so worn out. He’s also wearing an old band tee, one that’s much too small now that he’s older and hunkier. The flannel he’s wearing over it is another relic, one he’d snagged from his dad’s closet as a teen and never had the courage to throw out, not even after the man passed away. Everything in his duffle bag is the same; worn out, a bit too small, and riddled with holes. And it kind of smells, too.

He’s fiddling with the guitar he flung over his shoulder as he waits, humming along under his breath. He’s midway through a horrendous rendition of Hotel California when Sam’s hybrid comes to a stop in front of him.

“Hey, Sammy!” he says, putting his guitar and bag on the backseat before coming to sit in the front. “Thanks for doing this.”

“No problem. So… the bus station?”

“Yup, just a couple of streets before that, actually… then I’m off to New York City. Gimme your phone, will ya?”

Sam complies before getting back on the road, used to Dean’s pre-mission routine. “My new number’s gonna be under D. Smith. Unless it’s an emergency – and by that I mean a real one – you don’t call or text me.”

“Not the first time we do this, Dean.”

“I know, but it bears repeating. You’re Sam in mine, there’s no point in me giving you a fake name since we won’t talk.”

“Same thing every time.”

While Dean programs the numbers in both their phones, Sam maneuvers through the city to get to the bus station. Only when they hit a bit of traffic does Sam realize there’s a strong smell emanating from his brother. And not a good one at that.

“What the hell is this?” he asks after taking an experimental sniff toward Dean. “Is that B.O.?”

“I’m homeless, Sam. I don’t have access to showers.”

“First, you’re not really homeless. Second, you know, hand soap and a bathroom sink can help a whole lot. You don’t have to smell.”

Dean huffs. “Maybe Dean Smith is a slob.”

“I doubt Dean Smith will be able to seduce anyone smelling the way he does. Plus, you got almost two days to spend on a bus. You didn’t need to stink up my car on purpose, you’d smell anyway once in New York City.”

“I wanted to leave you with a parting gift.” Dean grins, looking overly smug. “A lasting impression, one would say.”

“Gonna have to go and get my car sanitized, so thanks for that.”

They banter back and forth right up until Sam comes to a stop a couple of streets away from the bus station. “Charlie’s gonna make sure to keep me informed, right?” he asks, just as worried as everytime his brother has to disappear for a while.

“Yup… like every time we’ve done this. It’s nothing big, mostly a surveillance job, so don’t worry too much, okay? I’ll be back before you know it.”

“You better.”

“Promise… as long as you promise me something in return.”

“What?”

“You gotta ask Eileen to marry you, man. If—when I get back, I better be seeing this stupid ring on her finger, you hear?”

“You can’t do that, that’s not fair.”

“I’m the older brother, I do what I want.” Dean smiles and bats his eyelids. “What if I die this time, Sammy? I need to know you’ll be taken care of in the event that I don’t come back.”

“Fuck you, jerk!” Sam bits, his eyes getting dangerously wet. “You can’t say shit like—”

“Promise you’ll ask her, then. You’ve waited long enough.”

“All right, I promise. You happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Dean responds before grabbing his brother’s head with both hands to land a resounding wet kiss on his forehead.

“Ew, Dean… you reek! Get out of my damn car already!”

Laughing, Dean gets out of the car and goes to grab his stuff. “I’ll be seeing you soon, little brother. Give all my love to the future missus.”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

The fifth morning after leaving New York, Dean gets dropped off near Montpelier’s bus station by an overly talkative trucker. Dean is tired, cranky, and he’s pestering under his breath as he starts making his way toward Paradysum. It takes him close to two hours to reach the compound’s iron gates. Instead of calling out to the people working on the grounds, Dean decides to push the gate open. A man he hadn’t seen appears running toward the gate when it emits a loud creaking noise.

“Hi there!” he shouts as he approaches. “Can I help you?”

Dean has time to push the door open and go through it before the short man can get to him. When he stops, he’s panting and his face is a dangerous shade of red.

“This is Paradysum, right?” Deans asks. “My friend said I could come here see this guy… Casteel?”

Still panting, the man nods and holds a finger up while he finds his breath back. “Castiel,” he corrects once he’s able to speak again. “You’d be here to see Castiel. Who told you about this place?”

“A friend… Aaron?”

The shorter man squints at Dean, obviously distrustful. “Who?”

“Oh, right! He told me you’d know him better as Golem? I know him as Aaron myself.”

“Golem, yes, yes… I know Golem. Come on in.”

The man closes the gate before offering him his hand to shake. “The name’s Metatron… and you are?”

“Dean Smith.”

“Ugh, that’s a boring name. You chose that or was it given to you? In any case, you gotta be excited at the idea of changing it,” Metatron says as he starts walking, beckoning Dean to follow. “And how’s Golem doing? Haven’t heard from him in a while. Still in New York City, I presume?”

Dean answers each question in a tired voice, hoping Metatron – who Dean knows his actual name is Marvin Armstrong – would get a hint. But the man clearly doesn’t and keeps chatting as he leads the way toward a huge colonial house. Dean can’t help but being impressed, the pictures he’d seen before doing a piss poor job at representing how big the place really is.

“What the hell is this thing? A damn castle?”

Metatron chuckles. “You’d think so, huh?”

After having been so impressed by the outside, the inside of the house comes as quite the let down for Dean. The immense main room doesn’t look all that clean and none of the furnitures match. Not that he’d ever say it outloud, but such a sight is enough for Dean’s hands to start itching for a mop and some soap. And rubber gloves… definitely rubber gloves.

“Looks… cozy…”

“You don’t need to lie, Dean. We know it’s not that great…” Metatron says, smiling. “But it’s home, you know. And anyway, it’s cleanup day tomorrow. It’ll look better then.”

You’d need a whole week to make this place clean , Dean thinks as he works hard to keep the disgust to show on his face. “Yeah… gotcha!”

He follows Metatron to the next room, a bright kitchen and dining room combo that looks a whole lot better… and cleaner. Dean sighs in relief; maybe it won’t be so bad after all.

“Would you like something to drink? Lemonade, maybe?” Metatron asks while Dean sits at the U-shaped wooden table. He counts fifteen mismatched chairs in all.

“Yeah, lemonade’s good, thanks.”

Dean keeps his eyes outside while he waits, a wall of tall windows overlooking a terrasse with plastic tables and chairs. Beyond that, thick woods are surrounding the property.

“This Castiel guy… he must be rich as hell,” Dean says when Metatron brings him a glass of lemonade along with a plate of cookies.

“Not so much, no… well… he was at some point, I guess. Still probably is, compared to most people anyway, but… you know what? I don’t really know. Nor do I care.”

“It’s just, this place has to cost a bundle… the taxes alone—”

Metatron starts laughing, startling Dean. “I’ll go get Cas… you can ask him all about his taxes or whatever,” he says as he leaves through the patio door, not waiting for Dean to answer.

Okay… money talk is a no-go , he thinks as he watches the pudgy man waddle toward the line of trees. He squints a bit when he sees him disappear behind it, wondering how long it’ll take for Novak to come and meet him.

As he waits, he takes a cookie to examine it; of course they’d be giving him oatmeal and raisins because they’re a bunch of hippies who don’t believe in the awesomeness of chocolate. He takes a small bite, ready to spit it right out. Instead, he hums at the rich buttery taste and sharp sweetness of honey. It’s enough to go and take a bigger bite.

A couple of minutes later, Dean has gobbled up all four cookies and his glass of lemonade is empty. Metatron walks back out of the woods at that same moment, followed by a taller man wearing a beekeeper suit. Dean keeps his eyes on him as he takes the hat off. Even from this far, he recognizes the man he’d seen pictures of; James Novak, better known here as Castiel.

Castiel’s dark hair is matted on his sweaty forehead and he combs them back with his hand as he walks toward the house. It doesn’t make his hair look any better, instead making him look as if he’d just gotten out of bed.

Or just had a whole lotta sweaty sex.

Only when Castiel comes through the patio door does Dean notice Metatron is nowhere to be seen. Castiel puts his hat on the table before going to a cabinet to grab a glass, then takes the pot of lemonade out of the fridge. It’s not until he’s seated at the table after having refilled Dean’s glass and poured himself some that Castiel speaks.

“So, you’re Dean,” he says, his blue gaze sharp as he looks right into Dean’s green eyes. Dean swallows.

“Yeah…?”

“Metatron tells me Golem sent you here? Why?”

Quite frankly, Dean hadn’t expected the man to sound like this. He’s never heard anyone sound like this actually; a voice both soft and rough, grating and soothing. He squints, unable to decipher if the guy has already made his mind about him or not.

“If you don’t tell me why you’re here, we can’t help you, Dean,” Castiel insists.

“I—” Dean averts his eyes. “He thinks I should stop drinking.”

“We’re not a clinic. You know this, right?”

“I don’t wanna go to a clinic. Aaron said—I mean—I just gotta get away from it all, you know?”

“All of what?” When Castiel notices the trembling of Dean’s hands, he takes them in his. “You look hungry. Are you hungry?”

The blush that creeps on Dean’s cheek isn’t entirely fake. “Huh… well… those cookies were pretty good.”

Castiel squeezes Dean’s hands before letting him go and goes back to the fridge. “Cookies are a snack. What you need is actual food,” he says as he piles various plastic containers on the kitchen island. “How about a chicken sandwich? Would you like that?”

Dean nods, confused. Does that mean he’s in? Or, in the contrary, does it mean Castiel’s taking time to feed him before kicking him out? Whatever is happening, Castiel is back at the table ten minutes later with two impressive looking sandwiches.

“Didn’t have lunch yet. Bon appétit ,” he says before taking a bite of his.

“Yeah… thanks… you too,” Dean mumbles as he inspects the masterpiece in front of him. First off, it’s made with some legit homemade bread. The slices are thick and fluffy, and there’s a shitload of chicken between them, with cheese, pickles, some kind of spicy mayo, and… Dean doesn’t care whatever else is in there because it tastes amazing.

“Wow… vat’s an awefome fanwitf,” he says around his mouthful, making Castiel chuckle.

“Thank you, Dean. I’m glad you like it.”

They eat their sandwiches in companionable silence until they’re both done. Castiel then refills the cookie plate and pushes it toward Dean.

“I’m gonna burst if I keep eating,” he says in a chuckle. He still grabs one because, well… those stupid oatmeal cookies are the bomb.

“We wouldn’t want that,” Castiel says as he too takes one. “Are you feeling a bit better?”

“Yeah, thanks. Didn’t realize I was this hungry. Haven’t eaten much since I left New York.”

“When was that?”

“Four or five days ago? People really don’t let guys like me get into their cars, you know? Especially not the ladies. Had to walk a whole lot. Plus… hmm… I haven’t had a drink since I left and got pretty sick. At some point, I even thought I wouldn’t get through it.”

“I can only imagine. So… about what brings you to our little haven. You said Golem ‘thinks’ you drink ‘too much’. You must agree with him, seeing as you made your way all the way over here and didn’t have a drop of alcohol.”

Dean almost smiles at Castiel’s use of finger quotes, but keeps it in. “Well… he’s right. It’s gotten kinda bad. It got worse in the last couple of years, but drinking’s been my thing ever since I was kicked out of—”

He looks up, then down again; Castiel is listening intently.

“When I turned eighteen, I wasn’t a kid anymore so… didn’t need a foster home no more.”

“Your foster parents kicked you out when you turned eighteen?”

“Well… yeah… they wouldn’t be getting money for keeping me anyway. Made sense I guess.”

“And how old are you now?”

“Twenty-nine…” Dean swallows, looking back up, a bit longer this time. From all the lies he has to tell, this has to be the biggest one. He knows he looks good, but does he look good enough to pull off passing for ten years younger than he actually is? To his relief, Castiel doesn’t seem to want to dispute Dean’s response.

“What have you been doing for the last ten years? Other than drink, I mean.”

The shrug Dean offers Castiel is rather weak. “I got by, I guess.” He makes sure to keep his eyes averted as he speaks.

“I did odd jobs here and there, slept on friends’ couches. When I still had friends, that is. I had to move around a lot so it wasn’t easy to keep in touch, you know? I could probably try and call ‘em if I got back wherever they are. Just not sure they’d pick up.”

“Did you have many friends in New York?”

“Nah… I’m from Kansas and like I said, I moved around a bit. Got to the West coast, but I hated it. Doesn’t matter that it’s where I made the most money. And it’s warm pretty much all the time, which is nice.”

“Why didn’t you stay there, then?”

“Got fed up doing what I did in order to survive,” Dean says in a hushed voice, rubbing the back of his neck. “Coulda’ gotten a sweet deal with this dude, I just… he was nice, and pretty loaded, I mean… I wouldn’t have had to work all that much, you know? But… kinda hated myself doing this shit.”

Dean looks up at Castiel through his lashes. The sorrowful look he sees on the man’s face makes his heart skip a beat; doesn’t matter that it’s what he’s been aiming for, he still hates it. “It wasn’t all that bad,” he adds, hoping it’d make the man feel better. It doesn’t, Castiel instead offering him a trembling smile as tears well up in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry life has let you down, Dean. Nobody deserves this, especially not children.”

“M’not a child.”

Castiel takes one of Dean’s hand in his, its warmth travelling through the spy’s veins right up to his heart. “I have a feeling that you never really were one now, were you?”

And hell if this guy isn’t just a little too perceptive for Dean’s taste. He might have fabricated himself a childhood from hell, there was still a bit of truth to what he’d been saying. He can’t help his mind travelling back to the fire in which his mom died when he was four and Sammy wasn’t even a year old. Remembering all those times he’d had to take care of his baby brother when their father had gotten too drunk to even move.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He’d gotten over this shit a long time ago; Dad had gotten better and made amends. They’d been in a better place right up until cancer chewed John Winchester up and spat him out in less than three months. Dean exhales and opens his eyes again.

“It’s all in the past,” he says. “I’d rather be moving forward.”

Although his eyes are watery, Castiel gives Dean a wide and genuine smile. “I’m glad you think this way. Still, your past is a part of you, it makes you who you are. It shall not be forgotten, but accepted and learned from.”

And, well, this is all starting to be a little too intense for Dean and he’s about to start bawling. He has to stay on track, so he takes his hand back and offers Castiel a smile that’s bordering on bitter. “Only lesson I got from all that crap is that I can’t trust anyone but myself.”

“You trusted Golem enough, didn’t you?”

Dean shrugs. “Aaron’s nice. He didn’t try to—I was messed up and he helped me out. Didn’t ask for anything in return.”

“And did Aaron tell you what we do here?”

This time, Dean shakes his head, still with his eyes averted. “You a sect or som’thin’?”

Castiel’s laugh is deep and throaty. Dean can’t help looking up again to see him very much amused, his crinkled eyes and nose making him look all sorts of adorable. Or something to that effect.

“Nothing of the sort, I assure you. Most people here are atheists or agnostics; faith isn’t what brings us together. We’re more like a community… a small one, which may be why it works out so nicely.”

“You’re like hippies, then?”

Castiel laughs again and it makes Dean weirdly happy. “To some extent, maybe. Just don’t expect to see us walking around naked or having sex in every corner of the house. We’re just a bunch of regular people in dire need of peace and quiet. We grow most of our vegetables, and some fruits too, mostly apples. We have hens and goats for the eggs and milk. I myself tend to several beehives in the woods. We gather honey, make our own candles and soaps. It’s all about a simpler life, you know?”

Dean purses his lips as he asks his next question. “So, are you guys vegetarians?”

There’s that laugh again. “We kinda had chicken sandwiches just now, so no. Well, one of us is. The rest of us are responsible carnivores. We get our meat from neighbouring farmers, and only from the ones we know respect animals. Anything else we can’t make or grow ourselves, we buy in town.”

“And how much does it cost?” Dean asks, his voice as small as he can make it.

“What?”

“To stay here… because I don’t have—”

In a flash, Castiel’s hand is back on Dean’s. “I’d never ask you for money, Dean. I told you before, we don’t provide a service and aren’t a sect or anything like that. We’re not here to take advantage of anyone. All I ask, if you decide to stay with us, is that you pull your own weight. Still, if what you need right now is to spend some time in bed under the covers, that’s what you’ll do. We can talk about your responsibilities once you feel better.”

Dean gapes at Castiel. It couldn’t have been this easy, could it?

“Are you saying I can stay here?”

“If you want and are willing to let us help, then yes.”

“I—I think I’d like that.”

Castiel nods. “The first thing I’ll ask of you is that you refrain from drinking.”

“I knew there’d be a catch. This is a no drinking and no smoking house, is it?”

“Not at all, but… from the little I know, alcohol seems to be at the root of your problems.” Castiel smiles, still holding Dean’s hand. “I’ll be upfront with you; I talked to Aaron a couple of days ago. He told me you might be showing up. He also explained why he told you about us.”

They had been right to think he would, then.

Dean forces himself to blush, once more looking away. “He’s told you about my… hmm… downstairs problem?”

“He might have hinted to it, but his main concern was your drinking. And how lost you seemed to be. He believes you can get through this if you can stop and take care of yourself for some time.”

Dean swallows, once more taking his hand back and crossing his arms over his chest. “I guess… what now?”

“Now, you stay here while I go back to my bees. Metatron will be back to show you to your room.”

Dean looks up to see Castiel’s expression now closed off. “What’s wrong?”

Castiel shakes his head and starts smiling again. “Nothing… it’s just… the only room we have left is one that shouldn’t be empty. We lost someone a couple of months ago and we still miss her greatly.”

“Lost, as in died? In the room you wanna give me?”

Shaking his head again, Castiel sighs. “No, don’t worry. Anna didn’t die here and even if she had, the room’s been cleaned up since.”

Castiel clasped a hand over Dean’s shoulder. “Metatron will come see you soon. Just take a load off, bathe, sleep a bit. I’ll be seeing you again at dinner if you choose to join us.”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Metatron comes back in soon after Castiel left Dean alone, now harboring a much gentler expression on his face.

“Castiel tells me you’ll be staying with us for a bit?”

“Might as well try,” Dean offers back as he gets to his feet. “Got nothing left to lose.”

“What you have is a lot to gain, that’s for sure,” Metatron quips back as he signals Dean to follow.

They walk back to the main room, then up the wide staircase. It splits in two about halfway and Metatron goes to the right, Dean on his heels.

“What’s the other way?” Dean asks, pointing his thumb behind them.

“This is Castiel’s private dwellings. The rest of us use whatever’s this way.”

He stops to open the first door they encounter.

“This is the shower room. Dunno if you ever went to college, but it’s pretty much the same as living in a dorm here. You keep your shower stuff in your room and bring it back when you’re done.”

“Do the showers get cleaned up only once in a while like downstairs?”

“Come,” Metatron says, walking into the room. He pulls a curtain sideways and points to a bottle sitting in the corner of the cabin. “There’s one of those in every stall. It’s vinegar and water… you wash yourself, then you take a sec to spray this everywhere and rinse it out.”

“But that’s not enough, is it?”

Metatron is clearly starting to get frustrated with Dean, still his tone is even when he speaks again. “We clean the showers thoroughly once a week. This is just a precaution and it keeps everything clean enough until then.” He pulls the curtain back to a close. “You have flip flops, right?”

“No…”

“You might wanna buy some. I don’t use them myself, but if it’s gonna make you feel better…”

“No, sorry, m’sure it’ll be okay,” Dean answers, not too surprised by the shorter man’s attitude. He’s just accused him and his friends of not being clean enough, after all. He smiles, hoping not to have made an enemy on his very first day. “I’ve just mostly been in public showers and they’re so disgusting, you know?”

“Yet you don’t have flip flops?” Metatron asks as he walks out into the hall. Dean follows, sheepish.

“I lost them… well… pretty sure they got stolen.” He chuckles. “Who steals shower flip flops, I ask you.”

“Desperate people, I assume.”

Metatron is sounding a bit more sympathetic now, which in Dean’s book is enough to be relieved. He doesn’t speak again while Metatron gives him the tour.

“This door here is where you’ll find the toilets… a lot like the public kind with stalls and sinks. There’s soap and a hand dryer in there, too.” He continues by pointing the doors and naming the people occupying each room, until they reach the very end of the hall. Metatron turns the knob and takes a deep breath before pushing the door in.

“This one’s yours,” he announces as he flips the lightswitch on. “It’s small, but all of our rooms are small. We don’t need much more than that, since we’re outside or downstairs most of the time anyway.”

Dean nods as he considers the twin bed, side table, and wooden chair. There’s also a small dresser under a mirror that’s been screwed to the wall.

“Of course, you can decorate in any way you want. We got cans of paint in the barn, if you’d like to change the walls.” He goes to pull the thick navy curtain from the window over the bed. “You even got your own nice view of the woods. Does the room work for you?”

“Yeah, it’s great. A bit on the small side, but I don’t really care. Haven’t had my own room in forever. Well, I’m not even sure I ever did, so…”

“You’re lucky, then. If Anna had still been with us, you would have had to share someone else’s room.” Metatron winks, a teasing smile on his lips. “Probably me, since I have bunk beds in mine.”

“Lucky for you too, then.”

Metatron’s smile loses its edge, but doesn’t falter. “Indeed.” He goes to leave the room, but stops before stepping out. “Dinner’s usually around six… if you’re hungry now, you can go to the kitchen and grab something to snack on.”

“I’m good, thanks. I might just take a shower and nap.”

“You do that, then,” Metatron says before leaving Dean alone, closing the door behind him.

With a satisfied sigh, Dean drops his duffel and guitar on the bed. He puts the little clothes he has in the dresser, humming Queen’s We Are The Champions under his breath. Never in a million years would he have thought it’d be this easy to get in. What the hell had these other guys been doing?

The last thing he needs to put away is the phone he’ll be using to keep in touch with Charlie. He looks around the room; there are no air traps to unscrew and hide stuff in. Maybe hiding it wouldn’t be necessary, but he can’t take any chances so he squats next to the bed to inspect it. He almost decides to hide it in his guitar, only to realize he’d be facing the same issue whenever he’d want to play it. If he were to play it, that is…

He huffs when the only idea he can come up with is to slice the mattress open to slide the phone and cord in. He takes his pocket knife, choosing to cut along the seam at the top of the bed, right where the pillow should be most of the time. He slides the phone in and hums, satisfied. Taking the phone back from its hiding place isn’t as easy, but he doesn’t mind it. He thumbs through it as he puts the knife back in his pocket.

“S’about time, Winchester,” Charlie says in greeting. “You there yet?”

“Yup… they gave me Anna Milton’s old room.”

Because anyone could be outside his door, Dean makes sure to keep his voice as low as possible. “Just wanted to check in. From now on, I’ll be texting you.”

“Works for me. Anything worth noting so far?”

“Not yet, although Novak seems a bit weird… a little too nice, if you ask me.”

“Got a guru vibe from him?”

“Unclear. He says they’re not a sect, but no self-respecting guru would come out and say it, I guess. I’ll text you tonight.”

Without waiting for a response from Charlie, Dean hangs up before making sure both the sound and vibration modes are off. He drops it back inside the mattress and puts the pillow back in place. And because he does smell quite a lot, Dean grabs a set of clean clothes and the plastic bag holding his toiletries to go back to the shower room.

He stays in there a long time, letting the pressure of the water work out the knots in his back. He’s only back in his room a good half hour later, having decided that sleeping would be a waste of his time. Instead, he stalks back downstairs and out the front door to walk around the grounds.

Like Metatron had said, everybody seems to be hanging out outside, not having crossed path with a single person inside the house. The first people he encounters are working in a big garden surrounded by a wooden lattice fence. It comes up to Dean’s midsection, which is why the crouched people don’t see him until he gets close.

“Hey!” Dean says, startling a woman. The others don’t seem all that perturbed, not even turning to look at him. They respond a similar greeting as they keep working. The tall brunette who’d jump to her feet when he spoke walks toward him, a hand shielding her eyes from the sun.

“Dean, right?” she says, smiling as she extends her other hand toward him. “I’m Hannah.”

Hannah… real name Caroline Johnson, cousin to James Novak , Dean’s brain’s provides as he smiles and shakes the offered hand.

“Yup, that’s me, Dean Smith… guess news travel fast around these parts?”

“You have no idea,” Hannah replies with a grin. “Especially when Metatron is involved. He’s nice enough of an old man, but he can’t keep his mouth shut about anything.”

“I’ll be careful, then. So, what are you guys doing? Castiel tells me you grow your own food?”

“Veggies, mostly, yeah. Is that something you like to do? Gardening, I mean.”

“Meh… taking care of something that’s alive?” Dean scoffs. “I’d rather not have those kinds of responsibilities, if you know what I mean.”

Hannah’s laugh is just as nice and infectious as her cousin’s. “I totally get it.” She turns to the other gardeners. “Guys, our new friend Dean is here. Come say hi.”

As one, they stop working and get to their feet, all smiling so hard that it’s enough to make Dean somewhat uncomfortable. He’s never met that many people looking this happy in a single sitting. As they all come to introduce themselves, Dean’s brain provides him with all the things he’s learned from the mission docket.

“Hi, I’m Samandriel,” a young man says as he shakes Dean’s extended hand. “Nice to meet you, Dean.”

Alfred “Alfie” Johnston, nineteen years-old, born in Laramie, Wyoming. Escaped his abusive family to live with a distant uncle who didn’t treat him any better. He’s been living at Paradysum since a couple of months shy of his eighteenth birthday.

“I’m Raphaelle,” a tall dark woman says, wrapping both of her gloved hands around Dean’s to squeeze it. “Welcome to Paradysum, Dean,” she adds before letting his hand go.

Transwoman, born Donnie Finnerman. Left her hometown of Waterville, Maine to live in San Francisco for year. Reason for leaving and coming to Paradysum unknown.

The last person to introduce herself is Hael. Of all the people here, she’s the only one for whom they don’t have background information, which lead the previous investigating team to believe she’s an undocumented immigrant. Probably from Canada, but they haven’t been able to find a match in that country’s missing persons list either.

“Nice to meet you all,” Dean says with a smile. “I’ll keep walking around. See you all later?”

They all smile back at him before resuming their activities. “See you at dinner,” Hannah says before doing the same while Dean nods and walks away. Other than looking weirdly content, Dean can’t say these people seem up to no good. Probably that most of the people living here are just… living here in harmony with nature or something. Still doesn’t mean there aren’t bad apples in the bunch.

Dean lets his feet lead him to the huge red barn close to the line of trees. It looks like it’s been given a fresh coat of paint not too long ago. The doors are wide open, so Dean doesn’t hesitate walking in. If the outside looks well taken care of, the inside is never as nice. Anyone should be able to see that some of the beams have started to rot and that the stairs leading to the mezzanine are a disaster waiting to happen.

“Coming through,” he hears a loud voice say. Dean had been looking up as he walked, which explains why he almost bumps into a man and the goats he’s leading out of the barn.

Vince Vincente, frontman for the 80’s glam rock band Ladyheart , calls himself Lucifer.

Dean moves aside to let them through, the man not even meeting his gaze. He can’t help but smile at the thought of his little brother going berserk if he knew Dean was in the vicinity of the singer. Dean himself never cared much for him, his band, or even his music, but Sam was a huge fan as a kid. Still is to this day, actually. He’d probably be creaming his jeans at the idea of getting to meet the weirdo.

His chuckling dies in his throat when he spots a brunette brushing a horse in the back of the barn. It’s enough to start walking a bit faster, his hand already extended.

“Hi, I’m Dean…” he says before he’s even close enough for their hands to touch. She stops tending to the horse, a crooked smile on her lips.

“Heya, Dean… I’m—”

“Oh, I know who you are,” Dean supplies, beaming. “Meg Masters, actress extraordinaire. Can’t believe I’m in the presence of the Demon Princess herself.”

“Oh, for the love of… next you’re gonna tell me I contributed to your sexual awakening, aren’t you?” And even though her tone is rough, she kind of looks amused by the idea, if not flattered.

“Well… I mean… you were sexy as hell.”

“Were?”

Dean gulps. “You still are, of course. What I meant is—”

“Don’t worry about it, Dean,” she says, laughing now. “I’m just fucking with you. Glad you liked my work.”

“No… I loved you work. Saw all your movies, even those that were not part of the Bitches From Hell series.”

“Oh my… all three of them?” she answers with a wink, to which Dean gives an enthusiastic nod. Then Meg’s features sober up to give Dean a serious look. “Do I have to worry that you’re gonna be following me around like a lost puppy and bring up my work every five damn minutes? Or can we have a normal friendly relationship without any of that old crap?”

Placing a hand over his heart, Dean gives the actress a faint bow. “I promise I’ll be nice. I didn’t want to offend you, I swear… I just never get to meet—”

“I get it, and I’m not mad. Not yet,” she insists, quirking a single eyebrow at him. “And believe me, you wouldn’t want me to be mad at you.” Her demeanor changes again, her signature crooked smile back on her lips as she grabs the horse’s reins. “It’s really nice to meet you Dean. I’ll be seeing you at dinner. Come on, Clarence!” she says before clicking her tongue and guiding the horse toward the doors.

Dean is left alone with the chickens and stays there for a while, wondering if he’d ever be able to ask Meg for her autograph. He chuckles, finding himself just as pathetic as his brother with his infatuation with Vince Vincente. It takes one of the hens to start pecking at his boot to pull Dean out of his reveries.

The bird lets out an offended cluck when Dean starts moving toward the exit. Once outside, he hesitates; should he be going back to the house or try to find a path inside the woods? Because, if there were to be illegal stuff happening, it’d mostly be under the cover of trees and not out in the open where everyone can see. Unless they’re all in on it, of course.

Satisfied by his own deduction, Dean follows the line of trees surrounding the not so nicely mowed lawn – the goats have to be the ones behind that botched work, Dean figures.

Having seen where both Metatron and Castiel went in and out of the woods, Dean heads there. As expected, he encounters a well-trodden path. He’s only just gotten on it that Castiel’s voice echoes behind him.

“I wouldn’t go through there if I were you.”

Dean turns to see the man holding his beekeeper hat against his hip. “Especially if you’re allergic to bees,” he adds with a smile. “This path leads to the clearing where I keep the hives.”

“So I can never go into the woods?”

“Of course, you can. Maybe not this way, is what I’m saying… there’s another path over there,” Castiel provides, pointing a little further. “This being said, if you’re not allergic and bees are interesting to you, please be my guest. You might just want to at least be wearing a hat, though. We have some extra ones back at the house. I’d only appreciate that you didn’t touch the hives. Not until I’ve shown you how to do it, anyway.”

Dean couldn’t care less about bees and hives. All he wants is to make sure it’s not a way for Castiel and his friends to hide much darker stuff. Like a cabin where they’d be cooking meth, for example.

“Yeah, okay, why not… sounds interesting. Maybe I won’t need the hat if I stay far enough?”

“I certainly can’t force you to wear one,” Castiel says with a nod before leading the way down the path. They soon reach a pretty big clearing, one that looks man made, with way more hives than Dean could have expected to see. He’d seen overhead pictures, but they must have been old. There’s easily twice as many now.

Castiel works a bit while Dean watches. Dean doesn’t ask questions and Castiel doesn’t offer information either. So Dean has the luxury to look around, expect it doesn’t amount to much of anything in the end. No other paths can be seen, and the hives are what they should be. Which forces Dean to come to a very boring conclusion.

Guess this guy just really likes bees.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

At dinner that evening, Dean is delighted to be served a big portion of stew. It’s the legit kind, with lots of vegetables and chunky bits of beef. Everybody he’s met so far is sitting at the table, plus the two he’d managed to miss while walking around, Gabriel and Chuck.

Gabriel Speight, former porn star who became famous under the name Loki , Dean’s mind had automatically provided when introduced to the man. It happened again when meeting Chuck, all the infos he’d learned echoing in the back of his mind: Chuck Shurley, elusive author who pens the semi-popular Supernatural novel series under the pseudonym Carver Edlund.

“So glad you guys aren’t strictly vegetarians,” Dean says between spoonfuls of stew, which prompts Gabriel to laugh out loud.

“I don’t think I could do it,” he admits. “I still gotta make some vegeterian dishes though, because our little Hael here can’t bear the thought of eating any type of animal. She’s the only one now that—she’s the only one, but I love her to bits and I wanna make her happy.”

Gabriel glances at Castiel who smiles and nods before chiming in. “I’d also love to be able to say goodbye to meat altogether… I just can’t. I mean… burgers, am I right?”

Most people humm in assent at their host’s words. Dean is tempted to try and go back to what Gabriel had almost said. He’d clearly been talking about Anna Milton, and since Castiel had kind of told him about her already, asking questions wouldn’t be so weird.

“Do you cook at all, Dean?” Gabriel asks as he tears a dinner roll in half to dip it in the sauce, stifling Dean’s intention to ask about Anna. “I mean, if you do, we could share the task at times. I wouldn’t mind.”

And although he believes he’s not half-bad at cooking, he’d rather be doing manual work outside and speak to as many people as possible.

“If you don’t mind dying from food poisoning, I wouldn’t mind cooking for you guys,” he says, to which Gabriel laughs again.

“Dammit, Cas… couldn’t should start screening these people better? Nobody can ever cook. I can never take a damn break.”

“I offered to help, Gabe… you said no,” Meg says as she pushes her empty plate away. “Your loss, man.”

“I think I speak for everyone when I say we’d rather not live through another lasagna incident, Meg,” Gabriel counters with a wide grin.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Chuck offers, his voice so low that Dean hardly hears him.

Dean turns to the man. The picture in his mission docket had clearly been old, one where Chuck looked eminently better than he does now. According to his file, the author had been through a huge depression, attempted suicide, spent some time in a psych ward. When he got out, he became some kind of shut in, started drinking heavily…

And Dean can’t help but be surprised at how the man looks and smells kinda drunk right now. Didn’t Castiel ask Chuck to quit drinking like he did him?

“What? What’s wrong?”

Once more, Dean has been caught looking. He offers a contrite smile to the nervous man.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. I just thought I might know you, but it’s dumb.”

While Chuck’s face reddens, Meg cackles. “You must be a fan of his as well, then,” she says. “His name’s Chuck, but you probably know him as Carver Edlund… the author?”

Dean had decided that his character would not be well read – not that this guy is pulitzer material anyway. Still, he’s never read any of Edlund’s stuff so it’s totally believable to go with that.

“I don’t read much, so I doubt it. Probably just look like someone I know, is all.”

“I got—got some work to—to do,” Chuck mumbles before taking his plate and utensils to quickly wash them in the sink before trotting out of the kitchen.

“Should I go and apologize?” Dean asks Castiel.

“Chuck is not so good in social situations, I’m afraid,” he answers, shaking his head. “He’ll no doubt warm up to you, it might just take him a while to do so. Try not to stare or be too pushy and it’ll be okay,” he adds. “Let him come to you.”

Hannah sighs. “He’s kinda like a puppy… the kind that’s been abused, you know? They need time and space.”

Dean’s brows raise in surprise. He hadn’t read anything about abuse in Chuck’s file. “So… Chuck’s been—”

Hannah giggles, batting a hand in the air. “Oh, no… I didn’t mean to say Chuck’s been abused. Just that he’s like an abused puppy. You know, skittish, nervous, suspicious…”

“Well, as far as we know, he could have been,” Metatron provides. “All those things he writes about, they’re pretty dark.”

“He writes horror fiction stuff, of course it’s gonna be dark,” Meg says in turn. “Doesn’t mean he’s gone through dark shit himself.”

While Hannah, Metatron, and Meg debate about Chuck’s possible issues, Dean can see their host looking increasingly irritated. Soon, Castiel slaps a hand over the table, startling Lucifer and Samandriel who are sitting on either side of him.

“Enough!” he says, for the first time not sounding all that calm. And although he knows Castiel’s outburst isn’t directed at him, it’s enough to send shivers down Dean’s spine. He swallows.

“I’ll explain it once more, mostly for Dean’s benefit because he’s new here.” He glances at Dean, keeping his stormy gaze on him a he speaks. “Everyone here deserves to be respected in their privacy. And whatever brought anyone here, or their past, is nobody’s business but theirs.”

“You know why everyone’s here, don’t you?” Meg counters, not sounding like her usual cocky self.

This time, Castiel looks away from Dean to stare the actress down. “This is my home, Meg. May I remind you I only know whatever you people decide to share with me? And have I ever told anyone of you about your peers? Did I ever press you with questions? Or even forced you to talk to me?”

They all shake their heads and Castiel looks back at Dean. “I want you to know that whatever you shared with me earlier will never pass my lips. Same for anything you decide to share in the future, would you feel the need to do so.”

Castiel’s features soften. “I’m not saying this so you think you have to tell me all there is to know about you. I only think it’s important I emphasize that you can trust me if you do.”

Dean swallows again, getting worried about Castiel’s ability at sounding so honest and open when he looked right about to flip the table over only a second ago. Nobody’s ever this perfectly… perfect… composed. “All right…” he manages to say. Castiel smiles and nods, going back to his serving of stew while Dean does the same.

There isn’t much conversation happening from that moment on, people eating in silence before going to wash their tableware and trickling out of the kitchen, up until Dean is left alone with Castiel. Both are done with their dinner, but neither seems ready to leave.

“Is there something you’d like to talk about?” Castiel asks after a while. When Dean shakes his head, the man comes to grab Dean’s plate and utensils.

“Hey! I can wash my own dishes,” Dean protests when Castiel goes to stand at the sink.

“I’m sure you can… you didn’t nap this afternoon, did you? You’re probably quite tired.”

Dean harrumphs as he goes to join Castiel. “I’m not that tired. Please, let me do this.”

“Let’s do it together, then” Castiel says as he takes a step sideways to let Dean take his place.

While Dean washes their plates and utensils, Castiel waits to dry and put everything back where it belongs. Five minutes later, they’re leaning against the kitchen island, side by side.

“So… what do you guys do after dinner? You go to bed?”

Castiel chuckles, shaking his head. “You really think we’re just incredibly boring, don’t you?”

“Not boring, but I mean, you guys have goats and chickens and… you’re kinda like farmers, aren’t you? I don’t know much about farming, but I’m pretty sure you gotta up pretty early.”

“Calling us farmers may be a bit much,” Castiel provides, the amusement audible in his voice. “Grant you, we don’t go and party all night, but we don’t go to bed the second the sun has set either.” He points to the door leading to the main room. “Most of us will spend our evenings down here, playing board games, reading, conversing.” He then points outside the patio door. “When the weather’s nice, we might go outside and sit by the fire pit.” He smiles. “If we’re lucky, Chuck will join and tell us about some spooky story he’s planning to write.”

“What? D’you hold hands and sing Kumbaya, too? Do we at least get S’mores?”

Castiel’s smile widens. “Haven’t had S’mores in a while, I should ask Gabe to prepare some before it gets too cold out. He makes his own marshmallows and graham crackers… it’s out of this world. And as for the singing, we haven’t done that in a long time either, but I’m thinking you might like to entertain us yourself. Don’t you have a guitar?”

Dean shrugs, pointing his thumb toward the living room. “You got Vince Vincente in there… you can’t tell me he hasn’t been treating you to some of his singing already.”

“So you recognized him,” Castiel says, then also shrugs. “You know he goes by Lucifer here, right? Calling him anything else is something you won’t want to do. Vince Vincente is ‘dead’ and Lucifer wants to keep it this way for some time, if not forever. Can I count on you?”

“Of course,” Dean says. “I won’t bring it up. Anything else like that I should know?”

“Not really, no.” Castiel grabs Dean’s shoulder and squeezes. “Just respect everyone’s space and you should be okay.”

Not waiting for Dean to respond, Castiel goes to walk out, keeping the door open as he tilts his head. “Will you be joining us, or…?”

“Might as well,” Dean says, following Castiel into the living room.

As the man had said, everyone is scattered around the room. Most are reading, but three of them are playing some sort of board game he doesn’t recognize. Castiel goes to the tall bookcase to grab something to read. And because he’s not supposed to be too fond of reading, Dean elects to join the group seated around the coffee table.

“What’s the game?” he asks.

“ Ticket to Ride ,” Hannah says as she wiggles sideways to let Dean sit next to her. “Ever played it?”

“Nope… never even seen it before.”

“It’s quite fun… you travel by train from city to city, according to the cards you get. Wanna join in?”

Dean looks at the table where many colorful plastic train cars have already been placed on the board. “Maybe the next one. I’ll just observe for now… you’ve already started.”

“Wouldn’t mind starting over,” Samandriel says.

“That’s because you suck,” Gabriel says. He turns to Dean and offers him a wide grin. “I myself am killing it right now, so I’d rather not start over. You don’t mind, do you?”

It doesn’t take much more for the three players to start arguing. This seems to be something these people do a lot, only in a friendly way. Still, Dean feels the need to intervene. “Really guys, I’d rather just observe right now. Keep going, okay?”

It’s all it takes for them to stop bickering and resume their game. Sitting a little bit to their left, Castiel looks up from his book and gives Dean a small nod, smiling.

What the hell? he thinks as his stomach flips and he smiles back. This guy is fucking dangerous, he decides when he averts his eyes to pay attention to the game instead.

It takes almost an hour for Hannah to come out as victorious, Gabriel’s luck having turned sour a while ago.

“It’s a stupid game,” he mutters under his breath while Hannah starts preparing everything for a second round.

“Still wanna play, Dean?” Samandriel asks, to which Dean nods. “How about you, Gabe?”

Gabriel huffs then scowls. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, kid?”

Dean almost awes outloud when Samandriel gives Gabriel an wholesome look back. “Of course, I would,” he says, oblivious to Gabriel’s sarcasm.

Even Gabriel’s mood seems to lighten at the young man’s response. He ruffles Samandriel’s hair and smiles. “Okay, kid, I’ll play another one. Just for you, though.”

Before Hannah can start distributing the cards, Castiel closes his book and comes to kneel between her and Dean. “May I join in?” he says while the two move to give him some space.

Everybody agrees, of course. Dean would have been quite surprised if anyone had said no.

The game lasts much longer this time, ending about two hours later, mostly because they chat a whole lot while they play. Nobody wants to play another round, arguing it’s getting quite late. Gabriel is the first to go up to his room. Samandriel goes to bed soon after, like most of the other residents.

“So… I wanted to ask you something,” Dean asks Castiel when only them and Meg are left in the living room. “I went into the barn earlier and… you know it’s not in such great shape on the inside, right?”

“Yeah, I do,” Castiel answers. “We need to take care of this before winter comes, otherwise I’m afraid it’ll collapse under the weight of the snow.”

Even buried in her book, Meg seems to be paying attention to them because she starts chuckling. “It won’t…” she provides, never once looking away from the pages.

“I could do this, if you want,” Dean tells Castiel. “One of my fosters brought me on some of his contractor jobs.” Again, Dean plucked some truths from his own childhood, his actual father having been the one to bring him and his brother on jobs in the summer. When he had jobs, that is.

“Plus, you could use the mezzanine as storage when the stairs are safe to use again. You could even have some sort of pulley system.”

“Would you know how to do that?”

“Kinda have a knack for mechanical stuff, yeah. Unless you don’t have enough cash to spare?”

Meg chuckles again, but says nothing.

“Money’s not an issue,” Castiel confirms. “Although I think you could benefit from taking care of yourself right now. All that other stuff can wait.”

“Spending my days cooped up in my room with nothing else to do but think? Really don’t think it would help.” He motions an arm around the room. “I don’t read, and you ain’t even got a TV, do you? Having nothing to do won’t help me keep out of trouble.” He looks down at his hands which he’s purposely making tremble now. “That stupid withdrawal shit will be easier with something to do. It has to.”

“Very well,” Castiel says as he gets to his feet. “Gabriel goes into town once a week to deliver produce and buy whatever we may need… tomorrow morning, actually. If you know what you need, just let him know and he’ll get it for you. Goodnight, Dean.” He goes to Meg and dips down to kiss her cheek. “Goodnight, Meg.”

Dean keeps his gaze on Castiel as he goes up the stairs to disappear to the left.

“He’s cute, ain’t he?”

Meg’s voice snaps Dean from staring and he turns to her. “What?”

“I said he’s cute.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Dean says with a shrug.

Like she often does, Meg chuckles. Dean is starting to find that sound quite annoying.

“What? Are you too much of a macho man to admit when a man’s good lookin’? Or should I say you’d like us to believe you’re too much of a hetero macho man? Because you’re not fooling anyone, boy.”

Dean Winchester would have been adamant in proving Meg that guys weren’t his thing. Dean Smith, on the other hand, is supposed to be rather gay so Dean forces himself to blush. “Well… I mean…”

“We don’t care, dude. And to be frank, I don’t think anyone here’s one hundred percent hetero anyway. If such a thing even exists.” She closes her book and leans forward to catch Dean’s gaze. “I can’t say I’m not disappointed, though. You’re cute as all hell.”

He can’t help but smile. “Fifteen year old me would be hard as fuck right now,” he chooses to say, making her laugh some more. “And… well… I probably wouldn’t say no today either. Can’t say I’m all against girls, you know? Especially the teenage fantasy kind.”

“You’re cute,” Meg says, leaning further to kiss his cheek, not unlike Castiel did to her earlier. “You’re just not that cute,” she concludes as she leans back and opens her book to start reading again.

Since it’s almost eleven, Dean decides it’s late enough to go to bed. He gets up and clears his throat. “Hmm… goodnight, then, I guess,” he says, to which Meg responds with a distracted humm.

Since pretty much everyone has gone to sleep, Dean is tempted to go to the left rather than the right. There’s no way Castiel’s side of the house constitutes in a single bedroom and bath. There has to be other rooms… rooms where illegal crap could be happening.

As he walks down the right wing’s hall, Dean makes a mental note to go and explore the left one the second he has the chance. Once inside his room, he takes his clothes off to sit on the bed in his underwear. He takes the phone from its hiding places and turns it on to open the texting app and start a new conversation with Charlie.

Dean: Checking in. Nothing new. Will try going into town tomorrow. Should meet Sheriff Mills. Let her know?

Charlie: Thanks for checking in. Let me know when you think you’ll be in Montpelier and I’ll tell her. Anything else?

Dean: All for now, thanks. Over and Out.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Not one to oversleep, and especially not while on a mission, Dean gets up before the sun is even up. He pulls the curtain to look outside; it’s pretty dark still and he’s toying with the idea of trying to clock a couple more hours of sleep.

When lying on his back and closing his eyes amounts to nothing, he sits back up and swings his legs off the bed. He listens intently for any signs of activity. When he hears nothing, he goes to the dresser to pick some clothes and his plastic bag. Taking a shower now would be the best time, while everyone is still in bed.

He gets to the shower room where the air is humid and hot; someone has been in here not too long ago. Gabriel, most probably; he did say he usually gets up before dawn. Dean does a quick job of washing himself, not forgetting to spray the cabin with the vinegar mixture and rinse it out.

After bringing his stuff back to his room, Dean walks downstairs to go to the kitchen. As he’d expected, Gabriel is in there preparing breakfast.

“Good morning, Dean,” he greets him while stirring something in a bowl. “How do you feel about quiche?”

Dean Winchester likes quiche, but Dean Smith might not know what that is. “I don’t know… what is it?”

“It’s a like an omelet, baked in a pie crust. This morning’s quiche has ham, bacon, and potatoes in it.”

“I love pie…”

“Then you might just love this. It’ll be ready in about an hour,” Gabriel says as he divides the egg mixture into two waiting tins. “If you’re too hungry to wait, you can have some of my homemade granola, or some toasts. Everything’s in there,” he adds, pointing his chin at the door next to the fridge.

Dean shrugs. “Meh… I’m not that hungry right now. I’d love some coffee, though,” he says, eyeing the urn on the counter.

Gabriel opens a cabinet to grab a couple of cups. He puts them in front of the urn before pointing the light at the bottom. “We gotta wait for this to turn yellow. Shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes.”

Dean nods and sits on one of the stools. “Is it always this quiet in here?”

“Pretty much,” Gabriel answers as he comes to sit beside him. “I mean, there’s always some background noise, people talking and working, but it’s never too loud. Mornings are even better this way. That’s another reason I love to wake up this early; I get to enjoy the silence and peace a bit longer than everybody else.”

“Would you like me to leave you alone? I didn’t know—”

“Nah, it’s all good… been up for over an hour already, had enough silence to last me through the day.”

“What did you do? You didn’t just sit in here and stare at the walls, did you?”

“Of course not… I went to get the eggs, I milked the goats, came back in to make the quiches. Did you ever have fresh eggs or raw goat milk before?”

Dean shakes his head, his lips pursed… goat milk? Raw? “Is it safe? I mean… don’t they make sure cow milk has no bacteria before you buy it from the store? Has to be the same with goats, right?”

“It’s not like it’s been sitting out for months. It’s the safest milk you could ever drink, especially if you’re lactose intolerant. Raw products are perfect for that kinda stuff… goat milk tastes a bit different, a bit like warm hay, but you’ll come to love the taste, I guarantee it. As far as eggs go, they’re a thousand times better when they’ve just been laid.”

“Aren’t we all?” Dean can’t stop himself from saying.

Both men chuckle and stop talking for a while, looking on as the nature outside wakes up. Dean still keeps an eye on the percolator and jumps from his seat the second the light finally turns yellow. He fills the two cups and places them on the island where pots of milk and honey have already been put out. Dean ignores both while Gabriel drops two spoonfuls of honey in his own mug, not that it’s an easy task. Then he takes a sip before adding a third one.

“Wow… why don’t you just suck honey right out of the hives?” Dean comments, both amused and grossed out.

“To each their addiction, my man,” Gabriel counters with a smirk. “So… what’s your poison? Drugs? Booze? Sex?” he says, wagging his brows at that last one.

“Booze, mostly, I guess,” Dean says, keeping his eyes on his cup. “You?”

“All of the above,” Gabriel admits. Dean looks up, surprised to see the man not looking all that bothered by his own admission. “T’was years ago, though. This place… Cas… he gave me a chance, no matter how often I messed up when I first got here.” He squints at Dean. “You seem to be doing pretty good yourself. Aren’t you craving it at all?”

Dean sighs. “I haven’t been doing so well on my way here, this I can tell you.” He gives the man a sad smile. “I ended up walking more than I’d hoped. The first day was bad, but it was nothing compared to the second one. I had to stop because I couldn’t walk or even think straight anymore. Lucky there weren’t any type of stores that sold booze close by ‘cause I would have tried to steal me something to drink. This much I know.”

“So what? That’s it? Wanted to steal booze but didn’t? You’re cured?”

This time, Dean shrugs. “I figured I’d gone through enough shit already, you know? Getting arrested wouldn’t have helped me. Anyway, I couldn’t have done much because I started throwing up a whole lot, even hallucinated some weird shit.” He chuckles, even if nothing he’s about to say should be all that funny. It wasn’t funny when his own father shared similar experiences whenever he’d try to stop drinking. “Spent a whole night under some kind of bridge debating philosophy with Bert and Ernie.”

“Bert and Ernie? The Sesame Street puppets?”

“Yup…”

Gabriel erupts in laughter, clasping a strong hand over Dean’s back. Dean starts laughing too, glad to have been able to seemingly convince Gabriel he’d been going through hell as he made his way over there. That’s the exact reason he had taken so long to come down. He still has a bit of days to go to be in some kind of withdrawal mode, but he’s made sure the worst would have happened before he met everyone.

“So… what is it you do when you’re not cooking, or getting milk and eggs?” Dean asks Gabriel when their laughter has subsided, figuring the spotlight has been on him long enough. “Castiel said you go into town to sell and buy stuff?”

“I do… I’m actually going today. Anything you’d like me to bring back for you?”

“I told Cas the barn needs some TLC and he agreed. Told me to tell you what to buy, but… do you think I could go with you instead?”

Gabriel is looking at him with a smirk. “Did you just call him Cas?”

“Well, yeah… what? Does he hate that? I won’t call—”

“No, he doesn’t mind, most of us call him that. It’s just… you just met him, is what I mean.”

“So?”

“Nothing… it’s just funny,” Gabriel says with a shrug. The oven beeps, prompting Gabriel to go and pull the quiches out. “Just gotta let them sit for a couple of minutes. More coffee?” he asks, to which Dean nods.

“So? Could I go in town with you? I can help with deliveries and stuff.”

“Don’t have that much produce to deliver, but if you wanna come, I don’t mind. Do you know what you’ll need for the barn?”

“Kinda, yeah. Got an eye for that kind of stuff.”

Gabriel nods as he takes out a pile of plates from the overhead cabinet. He cuts two slices for him and Dean and brings them to the table, Dean following with both their coffees.

Dean sits, humming in delight when his nose gets hit with a strong whiff of the breakfast. “Oh my god… this smells amazing. I mean, I could already smell it, but now it’s so close, and warm, and—”

He can’t wait anymore, forking a huge bite of quiche in his mouth. He moans this time, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. “God, vat’f good.”

Gabriel huffs and shakes his head, amused. “Dammit, boy… keep making all that noise and you’re gonna make me feel funny in the pants.”

Dean’s eyes fly open and the shock on his face is enough to make Gabriel cackle again. “Only messing with you, kid… I don’t bat for your team.”

It’s a blessing that Dean had just swallowed, otherwise he’d be choking on the delicious quiche. “My team?”

“Well, saying I don’t anymore would be closer to the truth.” Gabriel grins and winks. “Let’s just say that there was a time in my life when I didn’t care who or what I did, as long as I got paid enough. And, well… doing guys pays a whole lot more, if you get my drift.” He winks again, leaning over the table to speak in a low and conspiratorial tone. “You might even have seen some of my work. Who am I kidding… you did, didn’t you?”

“No… I mean… maybe.”

And yeah, Dean has seen some of the guy’s work. He’d looked him up when preparing for this new mission, only to realize he’d seen most of his movies already. Most of those he’d done with chicks, anyway. Watching some of his guy-on-guy porn had been a direct consequence of his investigation. Like all that other guy-on-guy stuff he’d watched after that. Because Dean Smith would have no doubt been into that.

“That’s okay, I don’t mind,” Gabriel offers. “I just hope you liked what you saw,” he adds, wiggling his brows again before taking another bite of quiche.

Dean doesn’t answer to that and looks down at his plate, shoveling the whole thing into his mouth as if it’s bound to disappear in the next minute. Gabriel isn’t done when some of the other residents walk in to have breakfast.

“Good morning,” Hannah says brightly as she comes to sit at the table, a plate and cup in hand. Metatron does the same while Hael goes to the pantry to get some cereal instead.

“Sorry, honey, didn’t bake anything meatless for you this morning. Could have made a quiche without meat, but—”

“That’s fine, you know I don’t really like quiche. Your granola is all I want in the morning.”

When he sees Gabriel’s plate is almost empty, Dean goes to wash his own plate and fork. “So, Gabe? When do we leave?” he asks.

“Meet me behind the barn in twenty? I could use some help loading the stuff in the carriage.”

Oh, right… they ride into town on a horse carriage , Dean reminds himself, nodding.

“Perfect, I’ll see you then.”

Dean goes back up to his room. He needs to go to the toilet and brush his teeth, but first he has to text Charlie. He takes the phone out of the mattress, glad to see it still has half its charge, making a mental note that he should plug it later. He can only hope it won’t be too short notice for Sheriff Mills to be able to meet him.

Dean: Going to Montpelier today. Tell Sheriff.

Charlie: What time?

Dean: Leaving in about 30. Deliveries with Gabriel. Not sure about meeting time.

Charlie: Go to the cafe “The Witch’s Brew”. Gabriel is a regular, should be easy enough to have him bring you there. I will tell Sheriff to meet you within a couple of hours. Wait for her?

Dean: I will. Thanks Charlie.

Charlie: No problem. Anything else?

Dean: Nope. Over and out.

Fifteen minutes later, Dean is walking behind the barn where Gabriel is busy securing the horse onto a carriage. And, well… such a sight should be a surprising one, shouldn’t it?

“You gotta be shitting me,” he says as he approaches the vehicle. “You guys amish or something?”

“Of course not, but Castiel believes in clean energy. And Clarence needs the exercise.” Gabriel turns to point at the house’s roof. “You noticed the solar panels, right?”

“Actually, no… I didn’t,” Dean muses as he observes the installation. “You guys get enough power from that?”

“Enough power? Believe me, we’d be making a fortune if we could sell the juice we don’t use.”

They don’t talk much after that, transferring the produce to be delivered in the carriage and making sure everything will stay put. As Dean sits up front next to Gabriel, he kind of feels like he’s been transported in that old TV show, The Little House on the Prairie . All he’s missing is a bonnet and—all he’s missing is a cowboy hat. Yeah… that makes much more sense than a damn bonnet.

As Gabriel guides Clarence beyond the gates, he digs into the pocket on the front of his shirt to take out a thin cigarette.

“Do you mind?” he asks, showing it off to Dean. “Pot doesn’t trigger you, does it?”

Dean squints at him. “Well… no, but… didn’t you say earlier you’ve been clean for years?”

“Pot’s not unclean, Dean. It’s actually the one thing that really does anything to help with my anxiety.” He takes the time to light the marijuana stick and take a deep drag, making sure to exhale the smoke away from Dean before speaking again.

“It’s the good stuff too, no chemicals and crap. I grow it myself in the woods. If you want any, just let me know, I’ll be glad to help.”

Interesting…

“So… you’re selling?”

“Of course not. If you need this the way I do, it’s better to have the good stuff. Believe me, I have more than enough to share. Pretty sure some of the other folks at home help themselves from my plants, but they don’t tell me… as if I’d mind. As long as I have what I need to medicate myself, the rest doesn’t matter to me.”

It’s enough for Dean to get excited; now they’re getting somewhere. Granted, it’s just weed, but it’s called the gateway drug for a reason, isn’t it? Which is why he decides that rather than Castiel, it’s Gabriel he should be getting close to. Ideally, he’d be able to have the man trust him implicitly.

He only wishes he won’t have to mirror Gabriel’s past and go gay-for-pay in order to do so.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

It’s just a little before nine when Gabriel brings the carriage to a stop in front of Harvelle’s Organic Grocery , which sits right next to The Roadhouse Bar & Grill in Montpelier, Vt.

Both businesses are owned by Ellen Harvelle , Dean recites from memory. Her daughter, Joanna Beth, is mostly in charge of the grocery store while Ellen handles the restaurant and bar. As far as Dean knows, they are the only ones in this town who buy produce from Paradysum. And whatever they buy will be sold in the store or used in the restaurant.

Dean stands next to Gabriel while he knocks on the door with his foot, both of them with their arms full of egg cartons. A beautiful blonde comes to open the door, huffing at them.

“You’re late,” she says as she takes a step back to let them in.

“You’re not even open yet,” Gabriel quips as he goes to drop his load on the counter, Dean doing the same after him. “I’d say we’re just in time.” He turns away, beckoning Dean to follow him back outside while Jo secures the door so it’ll stay open.

It doesn’t take them very long to bring the rest of the produce inside; a crate holding glass bottles of goat milk, one with jars of honey, and four bushels filled to the brim with apples.

“Look, Gabe… d’you think you could cool it a bit with the honey?” Jo says as she swipes the full jugs of milk for empty ones. “It’s not selling as much as I’d like. I’m not even sure I got room for what you’re bringing in today, to be honest.”

“No problem, Jo… I won’t bring anymore until you ask,” Gabriel says. “Want me to take this batch back?

“No, it’s okay, thanks.” There’s a flirty smile on her lips when she turns to Dean. “So…? Who’s your friend?”

“Joanna Beth Harvelle, meet Dean Smith. He’s just moved in with us. He’s a musician,” Gabriel adds with a smirk.

“Are you now? Very nice to meet you, Dean. Gotta warn you, though; don’t ever call me Joanna Beth. Jo’s fine,” she says, giving him her hand to shake while glaring at Gabriel for having used her full name. She glances back at Dean, holding his hand a little too long before turning back her attention to Gabriel. “Mom will be ecstatic to finally be getting some apples.”

“She knows it’s a seasonal thing, right? We’re having a good year so I should have much more next week. You think she’ll want all I can bring?”

“No doubt she will, people keep asking for the her famous apple pie.” She waves at the display of organic apples that’s already in the store. “We get some good ones shipped in, but they never make as nice a pie as yours. It’s a pity you guys don’t open the orchard to visitors so they can pick their own apples. You’d be making so much money.”

They debate for a bit about that while Dean looks around. He already knows a bit about Jo and her mother and there’s nothing out of the ordinary about them. The biggest event in their lives had been the death of William “Bill” Harvelle fifteen years prior. This and the fact that at twenty years old, Jo never went to college, choosing to embrace the family business instead. Nothing notable, really.

“That girl’s cute as a button, isn’t she?” Gabriel says when they leave the store. He puts the non-perishables he’s exchanged their goods for in the back of the carriage. “I’d be all over her if I wasn’t scared her mom would cut my beloved dick off for even trying.”

He chuckles, jabbing Dean in the side with his elbow. “You’re damn lucky to be gay, kid. Otherwise this could mean a whole lot of trouble for you. You saw how she looked at you, right? Man…”

“What else is there to do in this place?” Dean asks, eager for a subject change. He did notice Jo Harvelle’s interest, but there’s no way he could decide to act on it, no matter how cute she is. “Unless you’re hiding stuff somewhere, he have nothing left to deliver, do we?”

“Like I told you before, we don’t have that much produce to sell to begin with. And you heard Jo, she’s not even selling everything I bring her.”

“So what, you’re stuck with loads of honey now?”

“Nah…” Gabriel gazes up at the sky, then back at Dean. “What do you say we walk around for a bit? Today is cleaning day and I really don’t feel like doing any of that shit. I work enough as it is feeding all of your sorry asses, and I keep my kitchen impeccable in doing so.” He starts walking, not waiting for a response from Dean who follows anyway.

“Once a month, we go to the County Market Fair, in Barre. It’s one of Castiel’s rare outings… this and some annual convention about bees. Last year’s was in Vegas, such a lucky bastard! Haven’t been to Vegas in years!” He chuckles to himself, no doubt remembering some Vegas antics, then shakes his head. “So yeah, Cas and whoever decides to follow spend a weekend a month in Barre, two whole days of selling all the stuff we make or grow… you know, soaps, candles, any extra produce we may have. I even make honey candies, they’re pretty popular, too. And this time of year, I also make honey candy apples and I swear, they’re all gone before the first day’s over, no matter how many I make.”

“That’s cool. I just wanna go back to the clean up day thing for a sec, though… are people gonna go in my room to—”

“Nah, don’t worry. We take care of our own rooms. It’s just for the common areas, like the living room, the latrines, the laundry room, the gym…”

“There’s a gym?”

Gabriel guffaws, once more hitting Dean with his elbow. “Damn, you’re gullible. I like you!”

Dean harrumphs, making sure to walk just a little farther from Gabriel so he’ll stop hitting him in the side. As they walk, most people they meet will smile and nod at them. But some, Dean notices, won’t acknowledge their presence while others will downright send them hateful glares.

He dips to speak into Gabriel’s ear after they cross paths with a woman who downright scowls at them. “Who’s that chick? What’s her problem?”

Gabriel, who had smiled and waved at the woman all the same, chuckles a bit.

“So you saw that, did you? I’d say that the low production’s not the only reason we don’t sell to that many folks in this town. ‘Cause we could up the production if we had to. See, at first Castiel really wanted to be able to furnish everyone in fresh eggs and honey… he had much more hens back then, too.”

“What happened?”

“People are stupid, that’s what happened.” Gabriel’s tone has turned bitter. “Castiel’s never done anything to anyone… he’s as good as the goddamn Dalai Lama, you know? If not better.”

And they want me to believe this is not a sect? Dean comments to himself, only nodding so Gabriel would keep talking.

“Don’t know how it happened, but rumors started going around. That was before I even got here. I don’t think anyone that’s at the house now was even there at the time. Apart from Cas, I mean. And maybe Hannah… she’s been there for a while, now that I think of it. Anyway, some believe we’re just a bunch of perverts that have lots of sex and run around naked. Not saying that I would mind, but you saw it for yourself: That’s not what we do.”

“How did that come about, then?”

“Beats me. That’s not the worst, though… others believe we’re some kind of sect, that we worship satan or something. Gotta say, having some guy at the home calling himself Lucifer might not be helping them think otherwise.”

“Yeah, what’s that about? Lucifer? Metatron? Castiel? Aaron called himself Golem? Is your name even Gabriel?”

Gabriel laughs again. “Yup, that’s really my name. You already know this, but I was known as Loki for some time… t’was my stage name, you could say. Just so happens my real one’s already an angel’s name, which works just fine since most of them took on angel names.”

“Lucifer’s not an angel. And isn’t Metatron a Transformer?”

“Lucifer was an angel at some point. Not a very nice one, but an angel all the same. And, yeah… that’s Metatron, not Megatron. He was apparently the scribe of God, so some type of angel too. Gotta admit though, I never really understood about Golem… I think it’s a Jewish thing. Not that I asked.”

“What about Meg, then? That’s not an angel’s name. Unless… is it?”

They stop at a red light. “It’s not. You know, we don’t have to change our names… like I said, Gabriel’s my real one. It’s a personal preference, really. Some find it easier to leave their former selves behind in order to heal better. Which is something I kinda did, if you think about it.”

Dean rocks on his feet as they wait. This has to be the longest traffic light in the world.

“I think that’s why Chuck’s not getting any better,” Gabriel says after a while. “He hasn’t abandoned his other persona, he still carries it with him day in, day out.”

“Doesn’t he need it in order to publish his books?”

“He does… which is why I think he should let go of Chuck and have us call him Carver. You know what I mean?”

That’s when Dean spots the cafe Charlie told him about, The Witch’s Brew , on the other side of the street. He gives Gabriel an non-committal humm and points at it.

“Are the people in that place friendly with you? I could go for some more coffee.” He knows he doesn’t have money to pay, but maybe Gabriel won’t mind helping him out.

The light finally changes and they start walking again. “That’s actually where we’re going. Very friendly people… a little weird maybe, but friendly enough. You might say that we’re the same kind of people.”

As he follows Gabriel across the street, Dean wants to know more. “How do you mean, the same kind of people?”

“Rowena, she owns this place with her son, Fergus. She’s one of those commune chicks from the 70’s. The real kind, too. You know, a bunch of hairy folks living the life in San Francisco, dropping acid like candy, running around naked… very much into that whole free love movement. She’s a cool chick, even if a bit cuckoo.”

“What about her son?”

“Yeah… Fergus is a little mama’s boy, bitter as shit. If someone were to become a real live Norman Bates, it’d bet on this guy.” He stops before opening the door. “Pretty sure he wears his mom’s clothes when nobody’s looking. I mean, maybe never knowing who his actual dad is messed him up in some way. And, well… his mom kinda enjoys torturing him, so—”

“Not that friendly, then?”

“I said nothing about not being friendly. Who cares if he’s got issues… we all do. That’s what I meant by us being the same kind of people. We’re all damaged, only to different degrees.”

Dean can only agree as he follows Gabriel inside. Knowing what he knows now, it’s not all that surprising to find the place close to empty, a single client sitting in a corner and sipping on a tall drink. Sheriff Mills is nowhere to be seen.

“Hey, Fergus! How’s it hangin’?” Gabriel hollers as he walks in with Dean on his heels.

The angry looking man at the counter looks up to scowl at them. “Name’s Crowley,” he says, his voice low and somewhat menacing.

“Not what your mom tells me,” Gabriel counters, not looking all that impressed. “Speaking of Rowena… she around?”

As sole answer, Crowley huffs and turns to walk in the door behind the cash register. He soon comes back, a petite redhead in tow.

“Gabriel! What a nice surprise,” she says in a thick scottish accent, much thicker than her son’s.

Aren’t they from San Francisco? Dean can’t help but wonder. He’d have to ask Charlie to look into that.

Rowena goes around the counter to wrap her arms around Gabriel. As they hug, Dean notices the not so subtle way Gabriel drops something in the woman’s pocket. She then moves back to cradle Gabriel’s face in her hands and land a strong peck on his lips.

“Who’s this gorgeous lad?” she asks after roaming an appreciative gaze over Dean’s body, who shudders under the attention. Something about that lady is making his skin crawl. Doesn’t matter how beautiful she is with those shiny red curls, Dean just knows he could never trust her.

Gabriel smiles as he guides the woman toward Dean with a hand on the small of her back. “That’s Dean Smith… he’s gonna be living with us for a while.”

“ Enchantée ,” Rowena purrs as she extends a hand toward him, palm down. There’s no way Dean is putting his lips on that woman, so he grabs the hand to shake it properly. He doesn’t miss the hint of deception in her eyes.

“Same,” he says back, letting her hand go. Crowley, still behind the counter, seems slightly impressed with Dean when he comes to shake hands with him.

“Crowley, is it?” Dean says, to which Crowley’s lips curl into a thin smile.

“No, no, no… his name is Fergus,” he hears Rowena say behind him, but he ignores her. “Nice to meet you, Crowley. I’m Dean.”

This time, a smug smile appears on Crowley’s face. “Pleased, I’m sure. Would you like some coffee?”

“As usual, whatever Gabriel orders is on the house, Fergus,” Rowena says.

The smugness on Crowley’s face melts away. Instead, he sends her an aggravated look. “I know that, Mother! What about his friend?”

Rowena scoffs. “I guess we can spare for a welcoming gift, but today only.” She turns back to Gabriel and grabs his hand. “Come on, Gabriel… there’s something I’d love to show you upstairs.”

“Do you mind if I leave you here, Dean? It shouldn’t be too long, I guess.”

And of course Dean would rather be keeping an eye on Gabriel, but if Rowena’s ravenous expression is anything to go by, they’re not about to be sharing cookie recipes. And Dean has already seen enough of Gabriel’s bedroom activities, that’s for damn sure.

“Yeah, no, I’m good. I’ll hang out here, read the newspaper or whatever.”

It’s all Gabriel and Rowena need to disappear into the kitchen. Dean looks back at Crowley, his brows raised.

“I’d rather not think about whatever it is they do up there,” Crowley offers before going to stand next to the espresso machine behind the counter. “So? What would you like?” He points to the coffee menu hanging on the wall. “We don’t have as much variety as Starbucks , but I can still prepare whatever you’d like.”

“I’m not much for all these frou-frou drinks. You got some regular joe, don’t you?”

“We do,” he confirms, pointing to a percolator. “I could also make you an americano. Tastes much better than that other kind, in my humble opinion.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll try that.” Dean looks at the pastries displayed in the glass counter, his eyes soon drawn to a pecan pie. “That’s the stuff!” he exclaims, not that he’s hungry. “I’d like some of your pecan pie, if that’s okay. Tell me you guys make them yourselves?”

“I do, yes,” Crowley answers over his shoulder, once more sounding overly smug. Dean can’t help but wonder if he would have sounded as confident had his mother been there. “I’m not as good a baker as Anna was, but we have yet to find an appropriate replacement.”

For the first time, Dean is genuinely surprised by what he’s hearing. Nowhere in the files did he read that Anna Milton worked here. Unless it’s another Anna?

“Didn’t that Anna chick give you some kind of heads up before she left? If not, that totally sucks.”

Crowley’s chuckling, paired with his answer, are enough to make Dean a bit uneasy. “Well, it’s not like she knew she was gonna die now, did she?”

“Oh… I didn’t…” It’s Anna Milton, then. “I’m sorry for you loss.”

As he puts the coffee and pie in front of Dean, Crowley shrugs. “We weren’t that close, but thanks,” he says, not much emotion discernable in his tone. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to…”

He never finishes his sentence and disappears into the kitchen. Dean grabs his order and goes to sit at a table near the window. He glances at the only other customer in the room, a blond woman wearing oversized sweatpants and t-shirt, sipping on something that looks much too rich and sweet. She must have felt his eyes on her because she looks up from her book and smiles at him.

“Heya, stranger!” she says, not waiting for him to respond before taking her things and come join him. “Mind if I sit witcha?” she says as she sits, again not waiting for an answer. The very pregnant woman – Dean hadn’t realized she was until she got up – extends a hand at him, smiling. “I’m Captain Donna Hanscum,” she says, then whispers “Sheriff Mills asked me to come and meet ya.”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Dean takes a quick look around the room; Crowley hasn’t returned which means him and Donna Hanscum are blessedly alone. “Is she coming?” he asks her, also in a hushed voice.

“Ya betcha. She’s gonna be here a bit later, had some stuff to take care of. I didn’t mind coming to meet you since I’m not really working right now,” she says, rubbing a hand over her swollen belly. She takes a sip of her drink – a hot chocolate by the smell of it – and ends up with a whipped cream mustache.

“You got a little something there,” Dean says, pointing to his own upper lip. She chuckles as she licks the cream, then wipes her mouth clean with a napkin.

The sight is enough for Dean to think this woman may not be the sharpest tool in the shed. Doesn’t matter that she introduced herself as a captain, she looks kind of flaky, which he finds a bit worrying. He takes comfort in the idea that it may be pregnancy brain… he’s heard about that before, so it has to be a thing, right? Lisa certainly believed it was.

He glances around again before leaning in to speak. “Tell me… you saw that, didn’t you? Rowena and Gabriel?”

Donna’s face splits in a wide grin. “That little trick of the hands? Ya betcha. They’re not as subtle as they think they are, dontcha know.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

She tilts her head, her smile never faltering. “Would ya like me to get in on your case and start arresting people? Would that help at all?”

“No, of course not, I only—”

“I know these folks, Dean. Gabriel is harmless. So what if he gives a bit of his homegrown medication to friends. It’s not like he’s selling it to them.”

Dean squints at her. “He doesn’t pay for whatever he gets here. That’s some sort of payment, isn’t it?”

Donna waves a hand in the air and winks. “Like I said, if you think we should—”

“No, I was just wondering. And speaking of wondering…” Dean starts, glancing around to make sure they’re still alone. “Did you guys know Anna worked here?”

At least, Donna looks surprised enough by his question. “Of course we did. What? Didn’t you?”

“It wasn’t anywhere in the files we got from that other team. I learned it from Crowley five minutes ago.”

“Oh my… are you sure?” Donna blushes a bit under Dean’s aggravated expression. “It must have been a mistake, then. Honestly, though, does it change any—”

She cuts herself off because Crowley is coming back from the kitchen, a tray full of freshly baked goods in hands. He stops in his stride, startled by the sight of his only two customers now sitting together.

“Is everything okay, Captain Hanscum? Is he bothering you?”

Donna dismisses the suggestion with a bright laugh. “Of course not. You know me, Crowley… if anything, I’m the one that’s bothering him. I did come to sit at his table, after all.” She turns to wink at Dean. “I’m told to be a bit too friendly at times. I like people, what can I say?”

“You’re not bothering me at all,” Dean reassures the both of them. He notices Crowley once more looking at him with that odd contempt look.

Gabriel wasn’t wrong in saying this guy’s got issues.

“Well, that’s awfully nice of you to say,” Donna responds before taking another sip of her hot chocolate.

From that moment on, they make a point of chatting like regular people would, seeing as Crowley stays behind his counter, almost as if keeping a eye on them. Gabriel doesn’t have time to come back down before the sheriff enters the cafe, making Dean utter a breath of relief.

“Hello, Sheriff Mills. Same as usual?” Crowley asks as soon as she walks in, his demeanor having made a one-eighty again. The man is smiling brightly at Jody who gives him a curt nod before sending Dean a discreet look.

He’s not supposed to know her, so he decides to just give her a small nod. She doesn’t acknowledge him just yet, instead coming to stand next to Donna. For the second time that day, Dean is taken off guard when he sees her dip down to kiss the captain on the lips.

“Hello, sweetheart,” she says as she straightens back up and smiles at Dean. “Tell me… who’s your new friend?”

“That’s Dean Smith… he stays over at that Paradysum place. Just got there yesterday, he tells me.”

The sheriff pulls herself a chair and sits, Crowley coming a second later to put a regular coffee and chocolate chips muffin in front of her.

“I saw the carriage in front of Harvelle’s on my way over here… did you come here with Gabriel?” she asks after thanking Crowley.

“Gabriel’s upstairs with Rowena,” Donna supplies in place of Dean, winking at her.

“I see. Tell me, Dean… where are you from originally?” Jody asks as she empties a packet of Splenda in her cup. “You don’t sound like you’re from this far North, is what I mean.”

“Nope, you’re right about that. Spent most of my childhood in Kansas, been all over the country since then. Can’t seem to be able to spend too much time in one place.”

“Ever went overseas?”

The three of them spend a good half-hour speaking of the places they visited or wish they could see. Crowley eventually grows tired of tending to an empty counter and grabs himself a snack, going to sit at a table and read.

When Gabriel finally comes back down, there’s no doubt about what he’s been doing with Rowena. He joins them at the table, bathing in a strong olfactive aura of weed, booze, and sex.

“Hey, Judy! Donna!” he says in a drawl as he lets himself slump down on a chair. “You ladies are looking delicious, as always.” He gives them a lazy smile, his eyes red and unable to focus on anything.

“You know I could decide to arrest you right here, right now, don’t you?” Sheriff Mills says, squinting at the man. “You reek of marijuana.”

With a crooked smile, Gabriel presents her with both his wrists. “Go ahead, then. Cuff me, Sheriff… cuff me real good!”

Jody huffs and rolls her eyes while Donna smirks at the man. “One of these days, we just might do it for real. You won’t be so cocky then, will ya?”

Gabriel’s answer is just some slurred gibberish, but nobody’s really listening anyway. Instead, Jody turns to give Dean a pointed look. “Tell me you know how to drive a horse carriage.”

“Yup, ma’am, I do,” Dean answers, very well aware that Gabriel shouldn’t be attempting to drive anything right now. “I’ll lead us back home, no problem.”

“Excellent.”

Silence falls over the table. Before long, Dean will have to bring Gabriel back to the house and he has yet to find a reason to be spending some alone time with the sheriff without it being suspicious. That’s when he notices the Sheriff and her captain having some sort of silent conversation. They end it with a slight nod and Donna turns to him.

“You said earlier you’d be working on Castiel’s barn?”

“I did…”

“We got this little guy coming soon,” she says, pointing at her round stomach. “I should be working on the nursery, but I’m having the worst case of butterfingers, and Jody works a whole darn lot. I don’t even have a month to go and nothing’s ready.” As she speaks, she rubs a loving hand over Jody’s shoulder blades. “Do you think I could ask for your help? There’s not that much to do, I just really suck at manual anything, especially now. And, as I said earlier, we only live about five minutes from here.”

Jody smiles at him, her own hand hidden in Donna’s lap. “We’ll be paying for your services, of course. Could we call you sometime to discuss this?”

“Yeah… I mean… no.” Dean shrugs. “I don’t have a phone.”

“Yeah, you do.”

Dean’s eyes widen at Gabriel’s affirmation. He turns to him, ready to defend himself about the fact that he indeed has a phone hidden in his room.

“Just call Castiel’s place and ask for Dean. I can give you the number, if you don’t already have it.”

While Dean’s heart decelerates, Donna takes out her phone to add the number Gabriel recites for her. He catches Jody’s eyes to find her looking just as relieved as he does. She downs the last of her coffee before getting to her feet.

“I should be going back to work. Come on, sweetheart, I’ll drive you back home,” she says, a hand wrapped over her girlfriend’s shoulder. Donna gets up, offering her hand for Dean to shake again.

“Very nice to have met you, Dean. I’ll discuss this a bit more with Jods tonight and I’ll call you tomorrow. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s perfect. I’ll be expecting your call.”

Dean watches the women leave, then turns to Gabriel who looks right about to fall asleep on his chair. “Ready to go, Gabriel? Walking back to the carriage should do you some good.”

“We can’t go now,” Gabriel counters. “Don’t you gotta see Garth?”

“Garth?”

“He’s got wood.” Gabriel giggles for a bit. “Wood for the barn, I mean.”

“It can wait. I really think we should be going back home now. You really gotta take a shower, man… you smell rank.”

Gabriel doesn’t say a word against it as Dean pulls him out of the cafe and back toward the carriage where they find Jo feeding Clarence one of those organic apples.

“You guys sure took your time, didn’t you? Meanwhile, poor ol’ Clarence was left here alone to wait.” She only glances at Gabriel before looking back at Dean. “I guess I can’t really hold you responsible, seeing you just got here, but this guy? He didn’t even make sure Clarence had water to drink while he waited.”

“Come on, Jo… I knew Clarence was in good hands,” Gabriel purrs, only slightly more alert than he was ten minutes ago. “Thank you for taking care of our good boy.”

“Whatever,” she says. “Just take care of your own damn horse next time. And remember, no more honey until I ask for it.”

Without waiting for an answer, Jo walks back into her store.

“She’s not happy…” Gabriel says as he tries to climb up the front. He almost falls backward doing so, Dean steadying a hand on his back just in time. Still in a precarious position, Gabriel looks over his shoulder to smile and bat his eyes. “My hero.”

“Stop messin’ around and help yourself up, would you?”

Gabriel complies and soon Dean is sitting next to him with the reins in hands. He hadn’t lied when he told Jody he knew how to drive a carriage, but he’d done this last over twenty years ago. Thankfully, Gabriel is doing good enough to guide Dean in the movements and commands that work on Clarence and in no time, they’re on their way back to Paradysum.

Once they’ve gone through the gate, Dean lets Gabriel take over, mostly because riding a damn carriage is not that easy when you haven’t done it in so long. It’s really not like riding a bicycle.

“I think I’m gonna go take a nap,” Gabriel says before jumping down the carriage, leaving Dean to unload the little stuff they brought back. “Just bring the crate in the kitchen, would you? Thanks.”

Gabriel leaves without another word, high-fiving Meg who’s coming to free Clarence from his harness.

“You guys had a nice time?” she asks Dean who shrugs at her.

“Gabriel had a whole lotta fun, apparently. I did have nice coffee and pecan pie.”

“At Witch’s Brew ? Did you get to meet that poor excuse of a man who calls himself Crowley?”

“Yeah… what’s his deal?”

Meg huffs, rolling her eyes. “That man’s a fucking cockroach… creepy as hell.”

Dean shrugs even though he kind of agrees. “Also met his mom, and two other ladies… Captain Hanscum and Sheriff Mills?”

“Oh… did they have their kid yet?”

“Nope, Donna says she has about a month left.” Tired of holding the plastic crate filled with goods, Dean puts it on the ground. “They asked me to help with their nursery.”

The surprise on Meg’s face is genuine. “Didn’t you just meet them?”

“I did… Donna and I had a bit of time to chat while I waited for Gabe and—”

“Why were you waiting for Gabe?”

Dean quirks an eyebrow. “He was with Rowena?”

“Oh, they’re still doing that, then. Keep going,” Meg says as she pulls Clarence forward to guide him back into the barn. Dean grabs the crate back and follows her.

“So, while I waited for Gabe and she waited for the sheriff to join her, we talked. Told her how I wanted to secure everything in the barn… you know, the beams, the stairs, maybe add in a pulley system.”

“Cas asked you to do all that?”

“Nah, I offered and he agreed. Anyway, I guess that’s why Donna asked me to do the nursery stuff. She says she sucks at that kind of thing and that Jody’s busy at work.”

“Are they gonna pay you?”

Dean shrugs again. “They said they would, but I don’t know. I might not have that much work to do. I mean, a coat of paint, assembling a crib… there can’t be that much work to be done.”

“I guess making a baby without a man isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Meg says with a smirk as she secures the door of Clarence’s box. “Not only did they have to buy the baby batter, now they have to hire some random dude to finish up the room.”

Choosing to only give Meg a polite smile at her comment, Dean turns around to leave. “I’ll get Gabriel’s stuff inside the house,” he says over his shoulder. “And if you think of something you’d like me to repair or add in the barn, just let me know.”

Meg doesn’t answer, but still waves him goodbye. He walks into the kitchen to find Castiel in glasses sitting at the table, a pile of paper and an old-timey calculator in front of him. Dean drops the crate on the kitchen island, deciding not to try and put the stuff away. He wouldn’t know where anything goes anyway.

The only noise in the room is this of the calculator as Castiel enters numbers that get printed on the roll of paper.

“Didn’t think anyone still used these,” Dean says as he comes to sit at the table. “Wouldn’t a computer be better for whatever it is you’re doing?”

Still entering numbers, Castiel doesn’t look up to answer. “I know next to nothing about computers… this machine here, I know.”

“But what if you make a mistake? You’ll have to do this all over again, won’t you?”

This time, Castiel stops to look at Dean over the rim of his glasses. “Not to be rude, but I might have a better chance of not making any mistakes if some people stopped trying to distract me.”

Dean gives him a fake shocked look. “Distract you? Me? Why in the world would I ever wanna do that?”

Castiel rolls his eyes, the corners of his mouth threatening to curl up. “I have no idea… I’m serious, though. I really need to do this. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Just wanted to let you know that I might be getting a call here tomorrow. Donna Hanscum asked me to do some work for her and the Sheriff, help out with the nursery.”

“She did?”

“Yeah, met her at that place, Witch’s Brew ? Anyway, we got to talk. Told her what I wanted to do for your barn so… yeah… you don’t mind, do you?”

This time, Castiel offers him an unbridled smile. “Of course not. How is Donna doing? She’s almost due, isn’t she?”

“Yeah. About a month, she said. Which is why I think I should prioritize this job over the barn. I don’t think it’s gonna take that long anyway.”

“As long as you still can help out a bit around here, I don’t feel like forbidding you to do anything. When will you be starting?”

“Soon, probably. She’s supposed to call me tomorrow. I’ll still be working on the barn, I’ll just split my time between here and there for a couple of weeks… maybe not even that long.” Dean pauses, scratching the back of his neck. “Say… I noticed you got a van parked on the other side of the house. D’you think I could maybe—”

“We have bikes,” Castiel says, not even letting Dean finish. “You know how to ride a bike, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do, it’s just—”

“Donna and Jody don’t live all that far. Shouldn’t take you more than thirty minutes by bike. And it’s great exercise, too.”

Castiel goes back to punching numbers on his calculator, signifying that the conversation is done with and that Dean will indeed have to be pedaling his way around town.

Son of a bitch!

To be continued…

Chapter Text

The next two days, Dean spends them mostly in hiding. Doesn’t matter that he’d said he needed to move to get better, he believes having a couple more bad days should help cement his cover story. It also gives him an excuse to ask Gabriel to hook him up with some of his weed. Surprisingly enough, he refuses, his main argument being that Dean shouldn’t try to replace an addiction with another. And since he wouldn’t have any other reason to spend more time with the man, he doesn’t insist – to be honest, it’s kind a relief not to have to ‘pay him back’ the way Rowena apparently does.

With the Gabriel angle down the drain, Dean makes sure to look miserable enough when he comes down for meals, see who else he can try to reel in. It doesn’t work all that well, people mostly leaving him alone, especially when he starts to fake puke loudly, preferably when there’s people close by.

This is why he opts not to come down for breakfast on the third morning. He’s hungry as all hell, but somebody’s bound to wonder if he’s doing okay. Also, he has a whole lot of nothing to tell Charlie, so that’s what he does while ignoring his rumbling stomach.

Dean: Anna’s room is freakishly clean. Wish I had a forensic kit with me.

Charlie: Wasn’t a violent death, don’t think you’d find much of anything.

Dean: I guess. What about her job? Found out why it wasn’t in the files?

Charlie: Bobby asked. The other guys can’t explain why the info’s not there, because they knew. Some kind of mishap, they say. Human error.

Dean: Human error my ass. Wonder if there’s anything else missing. What about the McLeods?

Charlie: Not much to say. Rowena came to San Francisco from Scotland in the late sixties, had her kid, went back home for some time before coming back about twenty years ago, when both her parents had passed. Fergus did nothing else than follow his mom around.

Dean: Right. Gotta say, for Anna, I think we’re barking up the wrong tree. Don’t think anyone here’s done anything.

Charlie: Do they talk about her?

Dean: Not really. Sometimes one will say random shit, but if I didn’t know about her, I wouldn’t know what they’re talking about.

Charlie: Anyone you could ask?

Dean: Metatron’s the resident snitch. Pretty sure he would have told me already if there was something. That’s why I don’t think there’s much to say.

Charlie: What about Sheriff Mills? She has anything more to say?

Dean: Going to her house this afternoon. I’ll ask.

Charlie: Great. Text me later?

Dean: Will do. Over and out.

Dean is shutting his phone off when someone knocks on his room door, startling him in almost dropping it. He shoves it back in the mattress and puts the pillow back. He lies down and makes sure to sound sleepy enough. “Yeah?”

“It’s Castiel. May I come in?”

“Yeah…” Dean repeats, the door opening on their host. “Hi, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel answer, cautious. He’s wearing his beekeeper gear, minus the gloves and hat. “I only wanted to see how you’re doing.” Without asking, he comes to sit next to Dean who’s curled up across the bed. “You looked to be doing much better on your first days here. Is there anything we can do to help? There’s a clinic in town if—”

“I’m good, Cas… it’s just—” Having averted his eyes until then, Dean looks up to meet Castiel’s worried gaze. “It’s like all the will to exist has left my body. Sounds silly, I know…”

“Sounds more like depression… not that I’m an expert or anything.” Dean shivers when Castiel cards a hand in his hair. “I don’t think I’m all that wrong when I say that your drinking was a form of self-medication. And now, the alcohol-induced numbness can no longer temper with this hurt you carry inside.”

Dean shrugs and swallows. Psycho-babble bullshit . “Maybe.”

“I think you could benefit from seeing Dr. Moseley.” Castiel smiles, still brushing Dean’s scalp with his fingers. “She’s helped others that came through here before. I may be able to provide you with a safe place to live, but she’d be better equipped in helping you deal with your mal-être … your anguish, so to say.”

There’s no way Dean can go and see some shrink. Which means he may have to dial down the depressive shtick. He sits up, making sure to get out of Castiel’s confusing reach. “You know I got no cash, man. I can’t pay for a doc or even whatever meds she’ll say I should take. I’ll get over it if you just gimme a minute to breathe, all right?”

With his hands crossed over his own lap, Castiel gives Dean a gentle nod. “Of course, I’m sorry. I only wanted you to know that the option exists. And…” Castiel’s eyes shift to gaze out the window as he speaks. “I do have a bit of money. If this is the kind of help you need, I’m able to provide.”

“Why?”

Dean’s sharp question prompts Castiel to look at him again. “Why what?”

“Why would you do that? You don’t even know me. I could be a criminal running from the law… or a serial killer.”

Castiel’s face breaks into a gummy smile. “I’m rarely wrong about how I read people. I wouldn’t have let you live with us otherwise. In any case, know that the offer is on the table. If this all becomes too much to—”

“Yeah… okay, thanks. I’ll keep it in mind, but I’ll be okay. I swear.”

This time, Castiel doesn’t respond and only nods, his smile much softer now.

“So, what’s going on with Sheriff Mills and Captain Hanscum? Will you still be doing some work for them?”

“I am. Gotta go see them this afternoon, actually.”

In a flash, Castiel’s hand wraps around Dean’s ankle – the only part of his body still close enough to touch. It was either that or his foot, which could have been at bit weird, in Dean’s opinion.

“You know you can say no to them if you need more time, right?”

“Yeah, I know that. I’ll be okay, I’m feeling much better today.”

“Then why didn’t you come down for breakfast?”

Dean shrugs, trying to ignore the warm hand still on him. “Didn’t feel like facing everyone. I’m sure they mean well, but they look at me like… I’m not one for pity, is all.”

“Nobody here is pitying you, Dean. If anything, they’re concerned and would love to help. Still, I get why you might feel this way.” Castiel chuckles at the sound of Dean’s rumbling belly. “Gabriel made sausage and cheese crepes this morning. Would you like some?”

“Crepes?”

“A thin pancake, wrapped over a sausage and some of Gabriel’s own goat cheese. Drizzle some warm maple syrup over it all and I swear, it’s like heaven on your tongue.”

Dean swallows, his mouth having filled with saliva at the picture Castiel just painted, too hungry to even care about the homemade goat cheese part. “How are you guys not obese?” he says, his tummy rumbling again. He ignores the pang in his heart when Castiel chuckles some more.

“We spend our days outside working and moving around, calories don’t really have time to settle in. Plus, we eat real food, not much junk makes its way in here. Most of our snacks are homemade, even the potato chips.”

The twists and turns of his stomach are starting to get painful, so Dean decides he’s been feigning detox long enough. He gets off the bed and is about to walk out of the room when he remembers he’d only been wearing boxers this whole time. “I think I should take a shower,” he says, turning around to grab some clothes and his shower bag to somewhat hide behind them, the tips of his ears growing warm.

“I won’t lie, you could use one,” Castiel admits as he too gets up. He stands by the door, his hand on the handle. “I myself will go take care of the hives, but there’s a plate waiting for you in the fridge. Put the syrup before you warm everything up in the microwave… I promise, you won’t regret it.

One hour later, Dean has taken a shower and eaten the three wrapped sausages that had been left for him. As he walks toward the barn where the bicycles are stored, Dean rubs his belly and belches with gusto. Maybe three of those sinful crepes had been too much, but Castiel had been right to call them divine.

The barn is devoid of people or even animals, except for the hens walking around and pecking at the ground. Then he spots a cluster of cats lounging in a ray of sunlight – a mom and her kittens by the looks of it. The sight is enough for his nose to start itching. If he’s going to work in that barn, he’ll have to get himself some allergy medication. Guess I’ll have to accept Castiel’s offer to pay for meds , he notes, hating that he can’t just go and buy it himself because Dean Smith doesn’t have a single cent to his name.

He finds four bicycles parked in a rusty stand. The only things missing are chains and locks. They shouldn’t be needed here, but if he’s going to ride a bike into town, shouldn’t he be able to secure it once there?

Dean is tall and the bikes are either too small or adjusted for smaller people. He takes the best fitting one, hoping it’ll be comfortable enough. He’s never missed his car more than he does at this very moment. He brushes the thought off and guides the bicycle out toward the garden. Raphaelle is walking out of it at the same moment, giving Dean a bright smile.

“Dean! How nice to see you up and about,” she says in that sultry voice of hers. “And doing some exercise, too? That’s marvelous.”

“Yeah, thanks… gotta go see Donna in town, working on their nursery. Also gotta go to the store. Do you guys have anything to lock up the bikes? I didn’t see any in the barn.”

“Oh, darling,” Raphaelle says in a soft purr, “we don’t lock up the bikes. Hell, people hardly ever lock up their doors around these parts.”

“They don’t?”

“There’s no need, Dean… takes a bit of time to get used to it, but you will.”

Without another word, Raphaelle turns around to walk toward the house, leaving Dean to watch her go with his mouth slightly agape. How, in this day and age, were people still choosing not to lock their doors or even their bicycles? Does she even remember their friend Anna was found dead in a ditch not that long ago?

Dean shrugs and makes his way toward the iron gate. He waits until he’s on the other side to mount the bike and start pedaling, cursing the absence of his beloved Impala with every push of his feet. He reaches the hardware store a good twenty five minutes later.

Getting off the bike after such a long ride – he hadn’t been on a bike since his teenage years – is easier said than done, Dean’s knees almost giving out when he does. He takes a minute to steel himself then rolls the bike in the stand in front of the store before entering the aptly named Nailed it! commerce.

“Heya, stranger! What can I do you for?”

The tall and gangly man standing behind the counter is smiling widely at him. After a quick look around the quaint store, Dean walks up to him.

“Hi… huh… my name’s Dean. I live at Paradysum?”

“Oh, right. I heard of ya. I’m Garth,” the man says, extending his right arm. They shake hands minutely before Garth speaks again. “Castiel called me and said to put whatever you’d request on his tab. Funny enough, Sheriff Mills called yesterday saying the exact same thing. You a contractor or somethin’?”

“No, just helping out. So, you sell wood, don’t you?”

“‘Course I do,” Garth says, his smile getting wider with each passing second. “Follow me to the back?”

Dean complies, wondering how such a small place could be storing the kind of material he needs. The door in the back leads to a small wood yard. There’s no way this guy’s got beams for Castiel’s barn.

“What do you need?” Garth asks, standing in a superhero-like pose. “Got it all.”

“Yeah, see… don’t think you got what I need, man. Castiel’s barn needs a couple of new beams. I see nothing big enough in here.”

It’s not there for long, but Dean definitely sees a bit of hurt in Garth’s otherwise gleeful expression.

“Well, you know, I don’t get this kind of request very often. Doesn’t mean I can’t get it for y’all! Just tell me what you need and I’ll order it special.”

It’s enough to make Dean smile at the man. “I knew there was a reason you’re everyone’s favorite hardware store.”

Garth is beaming again when he leads Dean back inside. They spend about half an hour discussing Dean’s projects for the barn, most of everything he’ll need having to be a special order.

“Once we get your stuff, I’ll call you so we can schedule delivery. The beams will be delivered separately, though. Can’t do that myself, as you might imagine.”

“That’s fine. When do you think we’ll have everything?”

“By the end of next week, you got my word. And the word of Garth Fitzgerald IV is as good as twenty-four karat gold, my dude. It’s pure!”

Garth may have only met him, he still pulls Dean in a strong hug. “You good people, Dean… you really are,” the man says when he lets him go, still smiling. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with ya. Don’t be a stranger, ya hear? Even if you don’t got nothin’ to buy. I’d like to know more about ya. I know everybody ’round here, new faces are good.”

Eager to leave already, Dean nods and waves Garth goodbye before exiting the store. His heart sinks at the sight of the bike waiting for him outside; he’d managed to forget he’d been stuck without a decent mode of transportation. His leg and ass muscles scream bloody murder when he embarks the torture device again to make his way to Donna and Jody’s house. If it doesn’t take all that long, it also means his ride back to Paradysum will take a bit longer.

Dean easily finds the house, a decent sized white thing with blue trims and shutters. Tempted to throw the bike as far as he can, Dean instead leans it against the house before climbing the couple of steps to the front porch. He doesn’t have time to ring the doorbell that Donna is already opening the door, a blinding smile on her face.

What’s with the people around here smiling like creeps all the time? Dean remarks, starting to think the water may be laced with some kind of happy drug. He’d have to make sure to bring back some and have it analyzed. And maybe make sure he doesn’t drink too much of it.

“Dean! I’m so glad you’re here,” Donna says, grabbing his hand to pull him inside. “Just in time, too. The last things we ordered were delivered by courier this morning. Garth brought the paint last night.” She turns to Dean who has stopped walking and is now giving her a confused look. “What?”

“You’re joking, right? You don’t really want me to do that stuff, do you? It’s just an excuse for me to come here and speak with you guys.” Dean swallows when it’s Donna’s turn to look confused. “Isn’t it?”

“Ya betcha! It’s the best excuse in the world only ‘cause it’s true,” she says before pulling him forward again to reach a small and sunny room. “There ya go! I hope you really can do some manual work, ‘cause I sure can’t.” She wiggles both sets of fingers in his face. “Told ya about my butterfingers, right? They’re swollen too, ‘cause of the baby.”

And hell if this woman isn’t just all kinds of adorable. What Dean had originally thought to be flakiness seems to be her being truly wholesome and peppy. “You did. I’m glad I can help, then.” He looks around the bare room. “I guess you’d like a coat of paint first?”

“I most certainly would.” She points at a couple of paint cans in the corner. “Took us some time to decide, but I think we’re good now. Goin’ with some kind of golden yellow… like sunflowers. We know this lil’ devil’s a boy, but we don’t feel the need to give him a blue room, dontcha know.”

“Yellow’s pretty classic for a kid’s room, I think.”

Donna’s smile widens even more, if such a thing is even possible. “I think so too.”

Soon enough, Dean is left alone to start on the trims, Donna worried the paint fumes could be harmful. Which kind of puts a temper in his plan to be swapping information. Not that Dean has that much to say yet, but he does have some questions.

Thankfully, the room isn’t that big, which means he’s done with the trimming within the hour. He has one wall almost entirely painted yellow when he hears Donna gasp behind him. He turns to find her looking distressed.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, worried he may have done something wrong. Didn’t she say she wanted all the walls painted yellow?

Rather than answering, she starts crying. Dean puts the roller down and approaches the woman, prudent. He remembers how Lisa would go into these emotional fits while pregnant, relieved he hadn’t been the one having to deal with those 24/7.

“I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry, all right?” he tries, pretty sure he hasn’t done anything wrong. He’s startled when he gets a watery giggle back.

“Chucks! I’m the one that’s sorry,” Donna says through her tears, half smiling as she does. “It’s ridiculous. Took us weeks to choose that darn-doodle color and now I hate it,” she manages to say when the tears have ceased. “Jods is gonna kill me.” She looks up, her big brown eyes still shining with tears. “You’re gonna kill me.”

It’s Dean’s turn to laugh. He shakes his head, landing a comforting hand over her shoulder. “I’m not gonna kill you… see? It’s not even done yet… and even if it was, you don’t like it, so we’ll do something else.” He turns to look at the wall, his head slightly tilted to try and see what could be so wrong.

“I didn’t think it’d be this dark… well… this bright,” Donna mutters, doing the same. “It looked nice enough on the swatch, but it always does, dontcha know.”

“Yeah. I think you’re supposed to actually get the color on the swatch next to the one you want.”

“Really? Paler or darker?”

Dean turns back to look at Donna and shrugs. “I have no fucking clue.”

It’s enough for the both of them to start laughing, which they’re still doing when Sheriff Mills walks through the door a good hour later.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Turns out playing handyman for Donna and Jody – but especially Donna – isn’t such an easy task after all. When Dean comes back a couple of days after the yellow paint debacle, he’s met with a new vibrant color scheme idea; orange. And this time, Dean has time to paint an entire wall before Donna starts crying. The same thing happens another couple of days later, when she’d somehow thought lime green would look great.

“What about dark blue… like… really dark,” he asks as he’s, yet again, giving a coat of primer over the half painted green wall. All those coats of paint are starting to make the already small room feel like he’s stuck in that Star Wars garbage compactor. “Not the whole room, but like this wall and the opposite one. Or the connecting ones. Or even just half of ‘em. A single wall could do the trick.”

“It’s a child’s room, Dean. It should be, I don’t know… happy. Shouldn’t it?” Donna’s tone is pleading. She’s sitting on the floor, a sea of paint swatches – courtesy of Garth – strewn around her. “And it’s not because he’s a boy that his room has to be blue, Dean. I thought you agreed with me on this.”

“Not to be an ass, Donna, but the colors you ladies chose so far, they were kinda bad anyway. I think you’re trying way too hard.”

Dean can’t decide if Donna’s pinched expression is one of anger or grief. Not that either one is good.

“I mean, they were okay,” he continues when he remembers how volatile her emotions can be, “but I think you wanna be so politically correct that you go for colors you don’t really like just because they’re supposed to be gender neutral. And you know what?”

Not looking any happier, Donna shakes her head.

“First off, you believe colors should have no gender, right? Except right now, you act as if they do, you know what I mean? You’re dismissing blue because he’s a boy, so it’s like… reverse sexism or something. And that’s what your kid’s gonna learn.”

Donna gives him a small nod, her expression a bit contrite now.

“And dark blue, like this here,” Dean says as he dips down to grab a swatch from the floor, “this here is all sorts of neutral, man.” He crouches and puts the swatch in Donna’s hand. “The furniture’s white, the bedding and stuff are white and yellow… I think it’d look awesome. Not all the walls in blue, maybe one or two. I think they call that accent walls or something. What do you think?”

With her eyes on the swatch, Donna shrugs. “I don’t know. I mean, I’d have to talk to Jods before I decide anything, you know?”

“Hey, it’s just an idea. If you like green, you could go with a dark shade instead of the lime. Although, I don’t think—”

“It wouldn’t look as good with the yellow comforter, and the chair pillows.”

“I think blue’s better, but to each their own,” Dean says, a bright smile on his face at the thought that maybe, just maybe, he’s on his way to stop doing this shit over and over again. If he didn’t know any better, he would have started to think he was stuck in his own lame version of Groundhog Day .

Without warning, Donna rocks herself up and forward to wrap her arms around Dean’s neck. “I’m sorry, Dean. You’re so patient with me… I know this is not what you signed up for.”

Dean hugs her back, chuckling. “You’re right about that, but I don’t mind as much. It’s either this or doing whatever at the house. And fuck all is happening over there. I’m really starting to think Anna’s death has nothing to do with Paradysum.” He lets her go to sit back with his legs crossed.

“So what? You’re leavin’?”

“No, not right now… I still think there might be something weird going on over there. I mean… there has to be. That Castiel dude, he’s too… I mean… who’s ever this nice and calm all the time, huh? Well, most of the time, anyway.”

Donna shrugs, a smile having made its way back to her lips. “I like to think that there are some people out there that are just good. He wouldn’t be the only one. You said it yourself, he’s never asked you for a single thing. He’s even paying for your allergy medication, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, but that’s weird, isn’t it?”

“Not so much, no. You’re working on his barn, he lets cats live in there, you’re allergic to cats. Making sure you’re comfortable when you work makes a whole lotta sense to me.”

“Yeah… maybe.” Dean takes a quick look around the room and sighs. “So… can I come back tomorrow? I could get the paint at Garth’s for you if you order it. No need to wait for him to bring it over. He’s a nice enough dude, but I’ve ordered some stuff for Castiel’s barn and half of it still hasn’t been delivered. Starting to wonder if it’ll ever come.”

“I’m sure it will. Garth’s a nice man, he’s been real patient with me so far. Just like you have.” Donna chuckles, red blooming in her cheeks. “I can’t wait for you to meet the not pregnant me. I swear, I’m usually a joy to be around.”

“You’re a delight, Donna… an emotional delight, but a delight all the same. Told you, I don’t mind doing this. I’d love to be putting the finishing touches at some point, but only when you’re happy with everything.”

After being on the receiving end of another blubbery hug, Dean bids his goodbyes, Donna promising they’d be calling him later that day to confirm when he should be coming back. Despite his initial feelings about having to ride a bike into town, Dean has started enjoying the exercise. Which may be why he’s whistling AC/DC’s Highway to Hell as he pedals his way back to Paradysum.

Walking toward the house after putting the bicycle in the barn, Dean notices a car coming to a stop on the other side of the gate. He stops in his stride to observe the vehicle, the reflection of the sun on the windshield preventing him from seeing who’s inside. Before he can start making his way over there, the driver door opens and a young man in a white button down gets out.

His eyes fixated on the house, the man stays there, partly hidden behind the door he has yet to close, as if unsure if he should stay or leave. When the young man glances to the side, Dean follows his gaze to see Hannah running up to the gate. She opens it and goes to wrap her arms around the stranger. Even from where he stands, Dean can see that they’re both crying as they hug. It’s Hannah who then moves the guy away from the car and shuts the door before pulling him toward the house.

“Didn’t think we’d be seeing him here again,” Dean hears from behind him. He turns to find Lucifer standing there, also watching Hannah and her friend. Dean squints at him, both curious and confused that the man would even talk to him. Apart from that time he told Dean to get out of his and his goats’ way, Lucifer’s never bothered talking to him.

“Who’s he? Hannah’s boyfriend?”

Lucifer’s chuckle is another weird thing for Dean to hear, but he doesn’t show it. “He was Anna’s boyfriend,” is all Lucifer says before also making his way to the house.

So that’s Adam Milligan, Dean thinks as he decides to follow. When he walks inside, it is to find Adam at the center of a group hug composed of Hannah, Samandriel, Hael, and even Lucifer. Dean’s gaze is soon drawn by a movement upward, where the massive staircase splits in two. Castiel is standing there, holding onto the railing and looking as if he’s seen a ghost.

“Adam…” Castiel eventually says before almost running downstairs. As he approaches, the others let Adam go so their host can wrap himself around him. As they hug tightly, Dean can’t help feeling out of place, as if he’s intruding on something much too intimate. Doesn’t matter that it’s his actual job to intrude, so to speak, this particular instance almost feels obscene.

The hug doesn’t last too long, to Dean’s relief, having started to feel like some kind of pervert. He notices Meg who’s come to stand next to him. She stays back with her arms crossed rather than going to hug him like the others.

Interesting.

Dean dips to speak in her ear. “Who’s that guy?”

Meg tilts her head toward the kitchen and starts walking, Dean following closely. Gabriel is in there in the midst of preparing dinner, greeting them with a smile and a wave before going back to whatever deliciousness he has in store for them. Instead of answering Dean’s question, Meg goes to sit at the breakfast bar and addresses Gabriel.

“Guess who came for a visit? Adam,” she announces. Gabriel pivots, a shocked look on his face.

“For real? Adam’s here? Why?”

“Beats me… we haven’t seen him since—”

Gabriel glances at Dean as he cuts her off. “I know. D’you think he’s gonna be staying for dinner?”

“You know Cas. I’m sure he’ll ask.”

“Who’s Adam?” Dean says, his gaze shifting between Gabriel and Meg. “Did he used to stay here?”

Meg and Gabriel lock eyes, clearly debating if they should be answering Dean’s question or not. Until Meg huffs and rolls her eyes, fanning a hand at Gabriel who turns to Dean.

“He’s a local, kind of. Lives in the next town.” He sighs, sorrow taking over his features. “Did anyone tell you about Anna?”

“I know Hannah, yeah… she’s in the living room with—”

“No… Anna,” Gabriel says, exaggerating the pronunciation. “She used to live here. Adam was her boyfriend.”

Dean squints. “The girl who had my room before me? Yeah, Metatron mentioned her. She died not too long ago, right?” He knows more than that, of course, but he’s not about to say so. “So that’s her boyfriend… no wonder everyone’s crying.”

Gabriel shakes his head, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “Yeah, she died, man. She came here to get better and then… she was doing better—”

“What Gabriel doesn’t seem able to say is that she died from an overdose. She’d been doing great, and then…” Dean notices the glare Meg sends at the door. “Then she met this kid and… I’m still not convinced it’s not his fault that she died.”

“Meg,” Gabriel warns, haven’t been able to keep the tears at bay. “You know Adam had nothing to do with this. Anna’s addiction won, that’s all there is to it.”

Meg jumps off the stool she’s been sitting on, her pretty face twisted in anger and her voice nothing but a snarl. “And where the fuck did she get that shit, huh? Who’s got their pick of all sorts of chemicals if not him? Can you tell me that, Gabriel?”

“There’s no evidence that—”

“You’re so fucking naive, Gabriel! Fuck! I can’t—I’m not staying here. Just tell Cas I went to bed if he asks.”

Meg storms out of the kitchen and Dean turns to Gabriel, a thousand questions in his eyes. “What’s her deal?” he says, making Gabriel chuckle as he wipes the tears from his cheeks.

“Anna… Anna’s a delicate subject to tackle. And, well, you heard Meg, Anna died of an overdose a couple of months ago. We all thought she was doing good, you know?” He keeps his eyes on the door to the living room as he speaks, as if trying to see through it. “Her and Meg, they were real close. And Meg never liked Adam for whatever reason. Probably because he kinda came between them.” Gabriel’s mouth quirk up on one side. “I think Meg had a thing for Anna, you know?”

Dean nods, now wondering if jealousy could have been a factor in Anna’s death. “And what do you think?” he asks Gabriel, as aloof as he possibly can be.

“About Adam? I don’t know him all that much, to be honest. He doesn’t look like a junkie to me, but who knows? What I know is that addictions are sneaky… you don’t really need anyone to push you over the edge, it’s real easy to go and do that on your own.”

Not only does Dean agree, he’s seen it happen from the front row… twice. First with his father’s alcoholism, and then with his little brother’s love of amphetamines. Sam kicked the habit long enough ago, still Dean hates to think about that time when nothing in his life made a lick of sense, with his dad battling cancer and his baby brother only able to deal once high as a fucking kite.

“Gabriel? Look who dropped by for a visit.”

Castiel’s voice brings back Dean to present times. He looks up to see him guiding Adam through the door. “Oh, Dean, you’re here. Let me introduce you to our friend,” Castiel says. “This is Adam Milligan. Adam, this is Dean, he’s been living with us for a couple of weeks now.” He smiles, claping a soft hand over Adam’s shoulder. “You’ll be having dinner with us, won’t you, Adam?”

The man, who looks even younger from up close, barely looks at Dean before turning to Gabriel, a shy smile on his lips. “If it’s not too much trouble. I mean, yeah, I’d like that.”

“Too much trouble? Boy, you’re hurting me,” Gabriel says as he comes to shake hands with Adam. “You’ve had dinner with us often enough to know you’re welcome, don’t you?”

This time, Adam shrugs, averting his eyes. “It’s just… I haven’t been here since… I didn’t know if you’d wanna see me or not.”

“Like Gabriel said, you’re always welcome here, Adam. I told you then, and I’m telling you now: You’re family to us,” Castiel reassures him, his arm now wrapped around his shoulders.

Going back to stir whatever’s on the stove, Gabriel announces that dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes. While Castiel and Adam go back to the living area, Dean climbs to his room, saying he’ll be washing up before dinner. He’s not lying, but what he really wants to do his talk to Charlie about what’s going on. The shower he takes is a quick one, which leaves him with some time to text his partner.

Dean: Adam Milligan’s here for dinner.
          Meg thinks he may be the cause of Anna’s death.
          I don’t think he was in the Sheriff’s visor, was he?

Sitting on his bed, Dean keeps his eyes on the phone, hoping Charlie will answer before he has to go back down. It takes about five minutes, yet if feels like twice as long, Dean tempted to try and call Charlie instead. He’s starting up the phone app when Charlie texts him back.

Charlie: He’s the boyfriend, of course he was.

Dean: Not anymore?

Charlie: Can’t say. Ask the Sheriff. Why does Meg think it’s his fault?

Dean: Something to do with drugs. Anything in the guy’s file about that?

Charlie: Nope. He could have been lucky and not get caught.

Dean: Possible. But he doesn’t look the part.

Charlie: They don’t always do. I’ll ask Kevin to do some more research on this guy, just in case. Talk again tomorrow?

Dean: It’s a date. Over and out!

As he leaves his room to go have dinner, Dean hears muted music coming from Meg’s room. He raps his knuckles on the wood and waits.

“What?” she asks without opening.

“It’s Dean. Just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

The door opens on Meg who doesn’t look like she’s doing so good, her eyes shiny and her cheeks flushed.

“There you go, I’m not doing okay. Happy?” she says, not even trying to hide her irritation.

“Look, if you wanna chat or whatever, I’m here. I know what it’s like to lose people, I can—”

“You think you’re the only one here who’s ever lost someone? We all did, smart ass! Every single one of us lost somebody at some point or another. I don’t need you.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Yeah, nobody ever means anything. What I need right now is for you to leave me the fuck alone!”

Dean raises both his hands, placating, and gives her a soft nod. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry… just… I’ll go.” Still, before she can close the door, Dean dares to speak again. “If you want, I can bring you some dinner later. I can even go get something now, if you’re hungry.”

The sigh Meg lets out sounds more resigned than anything. “Look, Dean, thanks for trying… I’ll be good.” She meets his eyes for the first time since she’s opened the door. “I’m not hungry. All I wanna do is cry myself to sleep.” She almost looks about to smile, a single corner of her mouth trembling. “It’ll be better tomorrow. Stop worrying, okay?”

This time, Dean doesn’t say a word when she closes the door on him. He’s starting to think Gabriel may have been right about Meg having strong feeling for Anna. Except he’s not so sure now that she could be implicated in the girl’s death.

All Dean can say for sure is that Adam Milligan’s visit is all he needed to give his investigation a much needed breath of fresh air.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Dean is all smiles when he walks into Garth’s Nailed It! hardware store the next day.

“Good morning, Dean,” the skinny man hollers when he sees Dean, a big smile splitting his face in two.

“Hey, Garth. How’s it hangin’?”

“Great, great… so Donna changed her mind about the colors again, did she?”

Dean chuckles. “Yeah… but I think it’s the last time. She was real excited about it when we spoke last night, and Jody too. I still gotta get to her place, but if she didn’t call you to order something else, it should mean we’ll be done with that. And while I’m here, I’d like to check on the rest of my order for Castiel.”

“It didn’t come in yet. I’ll call ya when it does, you know that.”

“I know… only thought I’d ask since I’m here anyway. Do you know when you’ll be getting the stuff?”

Garth nods and starts typing on his computer. “Called my provider yesterday, actually. He says there’s been some issues with his own provider. They still promised the beams would come in before the end of the week.”

Dean leans over the counter and waggles his brows. “I ordered that stuff a while ago, dude. At this rate, the barn won’t be secured before the first snowfall.”

“It’s not even October yet, Dean… still, I’m sorry. Wish there was something I could do.”

“Really? Couldn’t you, I don’t know, offer some kind of… retribution?”

“Aw, come on now, Dean… you know I’m married, don’t you? To a woman, no less.”

Dean throws his head back, laughing. “Garth, what the hell! No! I mean we should be entitled to some kind of rebate.”

Now with a bit of heat in his cheeks, Garth starts giggling. “Oh… yeah, rebate… or store credit maybe? How would you like some store credit?”

“Store credit’s fine. Thanks, Garth,” Dean confirms with a wink, making the man blush a bit more. “I’ll be waiting for your call, then. Have a nice day, man.”

Dean is still pretty amused as he pedals toward Donna and Jody’s house. He has an added difficulty today, the paint cans hanging from each handle not making it easy to turn without the bike almost tipping over. Still, he manages to stay balanced all the way to the sheriff’s house, glad he won’t have to be doing this on his way back home. Paradysum… on my way back to Paradysum.

With both cans in one hand, he walks up the stairs then enters without knocking, something he’s been told to do from early on. “Donna? You there?” he hollers, wiping his feet on the welcome mat.

“In the nursery!”

Dean follows the voice and finds Donna sitting in her rocking chair. She looks right about to cry… something she’s been doing a whole lot, however unnatural she swears it is for her.

“Are you okay?” Dean asks, putting the cans down and glancing around the room to try and find what could be the source of her distraught this time.

“I hate it,” she whispers before starting to cry. Dean goes to kneel before her, putting a comforting hand on her knee.

“We’ve already established that, remember? Got the new paint from Garth’s, it’s all gonna be okay. Unless… don’t you like those colors anymore?”

“Not that,” she says between hiccups. “It’s gonna be perfect… I hate—I hate being pregnant. I hate it so much.”

“You’re tired, Donna, but you’re almost at the end of it. Soon, you’ll be holding your little boy in your arms and—”

“I’m ugly… and I’m fat,” she says, the last word ending in a desperate whail.

He may be tempted to laugh, Dean still knows better and instead leans in to take Donna in his arms. In the time they’ve been hanging out, Dean has grown to like her quite a bit. Same thing for Jody who warmed up to him pretty quickly once there was nobody else around.

“You’re not fat, Donna,” Dean whispers in her ear. “You’re pregnant.”

Donna harrumphs as she gets out of his hold. “You think I don’t know that? Believe me, I know!” She puts both hands on her belly and huffs. “I just can’t wait for this lil’ cupcake to be done bakin’.”

“I’m sure you do… you know what is said to be helpful in speeding things up?” He winks at her. “Sex.”

His suggestion has the desired effect, Donna slapping his shoulder and erupting in laughter.

“May I remind you that you’re supposed to be kinda gay?” she says, only to laugh some more before adding “and that I am actually gay married?”

“Why does everyone think I wanna bone them… first Garth, and now you?”

They both laugh for a hard minute, until Donna has to excuse herself because she’s right about to pee her pants. Dean chuckles and gets back up to start working. He figures he should start with that iridescent white they chose for whatever won’t be painted blue. If everything goes to plan, he should even be able to paint a first coat of the blue before he has to leave.

When Donna comes back, Dean has already started. She sits in the rocking chair Dean has moved to the hall to watch him work.

“So… anything interesting happening over at the house?”

“Yeah, actually,” Dean says as he handles the paintbrush. “We had a dinner guest last night.”

“You did, didja? Who?”

Dean stops and turns, curious to see the look on Donna’s face when he’ll tell her. “Adam Milligan. I’m told he used to go there quite a bit, when Anna was still alive. It’s the first time he’s been there since she died, though. I mean… he must know quite a bit about that place if that’s the case, doesn’t he?”

Donna tilts her head, looking a bit confused. “Anna was his girlfriend, so of course he’d go there sometimes. You can’t be suggesting that Adam should be investigating this, are you? He’s an M.E., not a cop.”

“I know that. I just think he could know stuff.”

“He might…”

Dean drops the paintbrush in the pan and walks up to stand in the door frame. “Does he know who I am and what I’m doing there?”

“Nobody but Jods and me know about this. Why?”

“I found him a bit odd. He didn’t really look me in the eye the whole time he was there… tell me, did you ever really consider him a suspect?”

Donna’s pinched lips are enough of an answer for Dean, still he waits for her to voice it.

“We have yet to rule him out entirely,” she eventually says in a small voice. “It’s the worst situation we’ve ever been in.” She looks up at Dean, once more with tears about to spill. “I’ve known the kid forever, Dean. I can’t believe he could have killed Anna, I really don’t… still...”

“Still, what? He doesn’t have an alibi?”

“He does… it’s his mother.”

Dean gives her a pensive nod before turning back around to resume painting. Could they have taken over that investigation for no reason at all? It had been the mother who pointed out the earlier case, after all. Now she’s also her son’s alibi?

“How well do you guys know that Dr. Milligan person? Could she—”

“I know what you’re thinking, but I assure you, it’s impossible. She’s a decent person, Dean. She’d never do anything like I know you’re about to suggest.”

Dean turns back again to lock eyes with Donna. “Tell me, that kid in your belly… don’t you think you’d do anything to make sure nothing bad ever happens to him?”

She smiles, shaking her head. “Not to this extent, no. I take—Jody and I, we take the law very seriously. I’d rather try helping my child through his troubles than let him get away with murder, or whatever else trouble he could get into.”

Not that he’ll be telling her that, but Dean himself has done some pretty shady stuff to keep his little brother safe. It doesn’t mean he considers himself to be dishonest. It’s just that he loves the kid like his own and he knows for a fact that nothing’s ever black or white when it comes to family. Or even law, for that matter. He sighs, hoping she’ll never find herself in that kind of situation.

“Do you know if Adam takes drugs at all?”

“I can’t say for sure. If he does, he’s been lucky enough to never get caught during one of the random drug tests. His blood and hair samples were also clean when we tested him after finding Anna. Why do you ask?”

“You know Meg Masters, right? She seems to think he’s the reason Anna fell off the horse.”

“Did she, though? You saw the file, right? At this point, we’re not even sure she administered the drugs to herself.”

“I know.” Dean walks back to take the brush in the pan and start working again. “But who’d do such a thing? The only people we know she hung out with are the folks at Paradysum, Adam and his mom, and then Crowley and his mom.” He turns back around, squinting. “Weirdly enough, Meg seems to hate Crowley quite a bit too.”

“Did she say Crowley could have hurt Anna?”

“No, it’s just that I now realize Meg doesn’t seem to like anyone who’d be spending time with her.”

“You think Meg could have been the one to—”

“Don’t think so, but I’m told she would have loved to spend more time with her.”

“Let me tell ya, love stuff can be enough to… ya know. I myself had my fair share of bad relationships, dontcha know. Not to the extent of killing anyone, of course, but… yeah, they weren’t good.”

“We all had bad relationships. Turning into an homicidal maniac over it, though? That’s a whole other ball game. And there’s that Flagstaff chick, too. She died four years ago. Adam or even Meg couldn’t have anything to do with that now, could they?”

“Adam, no… Meg, I couldn’t say. I know Jods said that the two deaths seem linked, but from the little I know, I really doubt that they are.”

“There’s a whole lot of coincidences, though. Like, too much to ignore.”

“I know… which is what gotcha here.”

Soon, the paint fumes are too much for Donna to bear and she leaves Dean alone to work while she goes to take a nap. She only stirs awake when Jody comes back home, right when Dean puts the finishing touches on that first coat of blue. Both women are ecstatic with the results and keep thanking Dean and how marvelous everything looks.

After promising to come back the next day to finish everything up, he gets on the bike to go back to the house. He hadn’t looked at the time and now he’s pedaling as fast as he can, hoping not to still be on the road when it becomes too dark to see or be seen. Because, for some reason, that particular stretch of road doesn’t seem to be deserving of lamposts.

He’s about two minutes away from Paradysum, pedaling under a starless sky, when a very much welcomed car’s headlights shine behind Dean. If he keeps going at this pace, he should reach the gravel driveway before the car has time to pass him. He starts pedaling faster, standing upward on the pedals like when he was a kid. It makes him smile.

When the engine behind him revved up, maybe Dean should have looked. Being so close to the house already, he also could have steered a bit more off the road to make sure the car had all the room it needed. Or maybe he should have stopped altogether and waited for it to drive pass, but who does that?

All those maybes and what-ifs swirl around in his mind as his body tumbles on the road after being ejected from the bicycle. And no matter how hard he tries, he has no way of focusing on the vehicle that doesn’t bother stopping before disappearing beyond the curve.

Now lying crooked on the road, Dean knows he has to move, if only to get himself out of the way. He groans as he pushes his body to the side, rolling himself to the pseudo safety of the curb. He has to get up, he knows this, but he needs to take a breather first. And at the moment, breathing hurts like hell and when the pain makes him cough, it’s like a thousand sharp needles stabbing him through the chest.

“Fuck!”

He closes his eyes, steeling himself for the pain he will no doubt endure when he tries inhaling again. When it doesn’t hurt as much, he can’t say if it’s good or bad. He braces himself before doing it again; the air goes in and out a bit more easily this time.

“Come on, Winchester,” he says under his breath, his gaze on Paradysum’s iron gate. If he’d only been going a little faster, this shit wouldn’t have happened. He would have turned right and that fucker who can’t drive for shit would have disappeared without almost killing him.

A couple of deep breaths later, Dean finally sits up, glad to find he doesn’t seem to have anything broken. His back hurts like a son of a bitch, but it’s no surprise. He’s had trouble with it before and it always goes away with enough painkillers and booze. He winces when he remembers that drinking isn’t something he’s supposed to do anymore.

Limping all the way back to the house takes him far too long, and he still has to go up the stairs. He pauses before climbing up, then pauses again before opening the front door, hoping everybody’s still having dinner in the kitchen. Except Dean rarely gets what he really wants and before he can close the door behind him, a couple of gasps echo in the main room.

“Dean? Dear Lord, what happened to you?”

Raphaelle comes to stand before him, hiding her shocked expression behind a flawlessly manicured hand. He flinches when she softly wraps an arm around his waist to guide him to the closest armchair.

“Castiel! Castiel, Dean’s hurt!” she yells once Dean is seated.

A second later, Castiel is rushing out of the kitchen, everyone else doing the same after him. “What happened?” he asks as he crouches in front of Dean. “Who did this to you?”

Dean chuckles, a bit uncomfortable to have everyone looking at him with such concern. “Nobody… I mean… I don’t know. Some douche ran me over. Shit… the bike! It’s still over there, and it’s ruined. I’m sorry, man.”

Castiel’s voice has never sounded more cavernous than at that moment.

“I don’t give a damn about the bike, Dean. You got run over and whoever did this didn’t even stop?” He turns to the cluster of people hovering over his shoulder. “Someone call 911,” he says in a snap. “We need an ambulance.”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

No matter how Dean tried to explain he didn’t need to go to the hospital, Castiel had his heart set on it. So did the EMTs who confirmed Castiel’s argument that Dean could have internal damages and that they better make sure everything was okay.

Which is why Dean finds himself in a hospital bed the next morning, pursing his lips at the breakfast he’s been served; a hard-boiled egg, a bowl of oatmeal, a banana, orange juice, and the blandest coffee he’s ever had the displeasure to drink.

He groans and pushes the table away from him, deciding he’d rather wait to be back home. It should be soon enough, the doctor he’d seen the night before having said Dean only needed to stay the night in observation.

“How did you sleep, Mr. Smith?” the nurse – Carmen according to her badge – asks him when she comes in to take his vitals. “You look like you’re doing well enough,” she adds, not waiting for an answer. The fact that he’s sitting on his bed with his clothes on, all ready to leave, may have been enough of an answer anyway.

“Do you know when I’ll be let out?”

Carmen pauses her ministrations to look at him and smile. “Doctor Roberts starts her rounds around then thirty, so she’ll see you sometime before lunch for sure.” She writes something on the chart before putting in back at the foot of his bed. “From what I can see, I don’t think she’ll have any reason to wanna keep you much longer.”

Dean looks at his watch and huffs; it’s not even nine yet. “Do I really need the doc to see me? I mean, you’re qualified enough to know, aren’t you?” He gives Carmen a wink, hoping that she’ll find him adorable enough to decide to let him go. He’s not surprised when she chuckles and shakes her head. Not the first time he’s been in a hospital, he knows how they work.

“I can see you’re okay enough, but I’m not a doctor, sorry,” she says before pointing at his untouched meal. “Aren’t you gonna eat your breakfast?”

“You know it’s a crappy breakfast, Carmen. I’d rather starve.”

Carmen rolls her eyes. “Sorry our accomodations aren’t to your liking, sir,” she says before walking out without another look at him. Dean is almost tempted to follow and apologize, but he doesn’t. Instead, he flings his legs back on the bed and stays like that for a whole two minutes before deciding he’s bored to death. If he had a bit of cash, he could go to the cafeteria and have some decent breakfast.

When Jody walks in his room fifteen minutes later, he’s so hungry that begging makes a whole lot of sense to him. “Jody! Thank God! I gotta get something edible. I’ll pay you back?” he begs, never giving her a chance to speak.

“Well, hello to you too, Dean.” She glances at the breakfast tray and purses her lips. “I see what you mean.” As she speaks, she pulls a ten dollar bill from her wallet and gives it to him. “I’m here on official business. You know, to talk about what happened last night.”

“Thanks,” Dean says, shoving the money in his jean pocket. “Your people already came for my deposition, Jody. Told them everything I know.” He notices her cheeks reddening a bit.

“All right… I also wanted to see how you’re doing, and… well… Donna’s beside herself. And I was hoping some stuff could have resurfaced this morning?” She moves around the bed to face the door so she can keep an eye on it. “You really think it was an accident?”

Dean shrugs. “I don’t see what else it could be. That road’s dark as shit.”

“I know, it’s an ongoing problem. You’re not the first person to get hit there. I can’t understand how nothing’s been done about it yet.” She sighs. “It’s just… people usually stop when they hit someone, they don’t just keep on driving.”

“You know there’s such a thing as hit and runs, right? That’s all it was, I’m sure. Maybe whoever hit me was drunk. Or sleepy. Maybe it’s a kid that shouldn’t have been driving in the first place.”

“Yeah… maybe. So you really didn’t see what car it was, or even a license plate, did you?”

This time, Dean chuckles. “Was kinda busy making sure I didn’t break anything as I rolled around. All I can say is that it looked like some generic sedan in a dark color. I mean, I know cars and stuff, but I couldn’t really focus. As for the color goes, it could have been black, could also have been blue.”

“That still gives us a bit to go with. There’s some cameras in town. We’ll try and see what we can find around the time you were hit.”

Dean hums, pensive. “What makes you think it could have been anything else? I mean… only you and Donna know who I really am, right? Nobody else from your team knows?

“No, you’re right, I just… somehow, it’d be easier to accept than a damn hit and run.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Not wanting to let her see that she might have rattled him, Dean gives her a smile. “Thanks for coming to see me, really appreciate it. Can you tell Donna I won’t be able to finish the room today? My back hurts a whole lot right now, so it might take a couple of days before I’m back a hundred percent.”

Jody glances at the door to make sure they’re still alone. “You’ve made a great deal of friends at Paradysum,” she says in a low voice. “Castiel called last night to tell us what happened. Then he asked if Lucifer and Raphaelle could come and finish the work today.”

“Lucifer? You sure? This guy can’t even stand me. And, I mean, don’t you mind having strangers into your home?”

“From what you’ve been telling us, they all seem nice enough. And it’s not like we don’t know them at all. We do live in the same town. I might still pop in around lunch time to make sure everything’s okay, though,” she adds with a wink.

She comes to grab Dean’s shoulder and gives it a light squeeze, smiling. “Not sure when we’ll see each other again, but I called your partner to let her know what happened. She gave me your cell number so we can keep in—”

Dean hits a palm on his forehead. “Shit! Charlie! Totally forgot about her. Thanks for calling her… she really gets pissed when I miss check-ins.”

“Didn’t sound pissed, more worried. She’s expecting to hear from you later today. Don’t forget, all right?”

“I won’t. Thanks Jody, and say hi to Donna for me, okay? Tell her I’ll pop up for a visit as soon as I can.”

“I will… take care of yourself, Dean.”

Once alone again, Dean looks at his watch to see it’s only nine thirty. He probably still has two hours to spend in this place. He starts sulking, only to remember the money Jody gave him. He leaves the room, a grin on his face when he stops by the the nurses station.

“Got me some cash, Carmen. Where’s the cafeteria?” he asks, waving the ten dollar bill at her.

She points down a hall. “Elevators are right over there. Go left when you get off the ground floor, it’s not far. You sure you can get there on your own?” He huffs and rolls his eyes, making her squint at him. “You’re not bailing out on us, are you?”

“Gotta admit, the thought crossed my mind,” he says, smiling again, “but I’m really just hungry and I need some real coffee in me.” He winks. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back before the doc even knows I’m gone.”

Carmen hums and nods while Dean limps his way to where she had pointed. He finds the cafeteria easily enough, following the scent of freshly brewed coffee. He gets in line to find himself faced with too many choices, many of which are the exact same thing he’s been served earlier. He forgoes anything healthy in favor of grabbing two different kinds of pastries – an apple turnover and a chocolate croissant – and the biggest coffee size they have.

He finds a place to sit near the back wall, far enough from anybody else so he won’t be catching anything nasty – it’s a damn hospital, so there’s germs, and Dean hates germs. He’s half done with the apple turnover when he hears his name being called. He turns toward the voice to see Castiel coming toward him.

“Cas? What are you doing here?” he says when the man reaches the table and sits.

“How else will you get back home?” he asks before pushing Dean’s food and drink aside. Dean quirks an eyebrow at him, ready to defend his right of eating crap for breakfast when he notices the paper bag Castiel has put on the table. From it, Castiel pulls two cardboard cups and a clear plastic box containing—

“Pecan pie?” Dean exclaims, his voice going up in some kind of shameful squeak. “How—”

“I thought you’d like a comforting breakfast this morning, since hospital food is all but exciting. Gabe said I should get something at Witch’s Brew . It’s Crowley who told me you seemed fond of their pecan pie, so I thought you’d like a piece.”

“You got that right,” Dean says around his mouthful. He’s forgotten all about his generic pastries. “Wow… it’s even better than I remember. I guess Crowley’s getting better at it.”

“Either that or the fact that they hired a new baker.”

“They did?” Dean asks before taking a sip of the coffee Castiel had brought. Like that time he went to the café, Crowley had prepared him an americano. He sighs, content.

“That’s what Crowley told me, anyway.”

“Did you meet that new baker?” He winks as he leans forward. “Because I think I’d like to marry them…”

Castiel shrugs, sipping on his own coffee. “Crowley said her name’s Krissy, but I didn’t get to meet her.”

Dean nods, making a mental note of telling Charlie about that later. Both him and Castiel stop speaking for a bit, Dean eating his pie and Castiel grabbing the chocolate croissant for himself. Their eyes meet once in a while, and each time Dean is the first one to look away. Mostly because if he doesn’t, he’s pretty sure Castiel won’t either; the man loves to stare and he’s clearly not ashamed of it.

After the sixth time he averted his eyes, Dean clears his throat, eager for the air around them to be less charged already. “So… Gabriel tells me you don’t really leave the house, like ever. Why are you here now?”

“Told you, you need a ride back home.”

“I know, but why you? You could have sent anyone else… I didn’t come here to stir the pot, you know.”

“You’re not stirring any pot, Dean. Gabriel is right to say I don’t leave much, but it’s only because I don’t have anywhere else to be. It’s not like I’m a shut-in or anything.”

“You’re not?”

Castiel’s face breaks into a crooked smile. “I see why you would think that, but I do leave the house at times, you know. I go to the County Fair once a month, attend a beekeepers convention once a year. And if any interesting occasion presents itself, I’ll go without a second thought.” Castiel sits back, crumpling the paper bag. “I’m taking care of your hospital bill, so it’s easier if I’m here in person.”

“Whoa! No, you can’t do that, man.”

“Somebody has to, Dean.”

“I’ll only let you do this if you let me pay you back. Every single cent, you’ll get back, okay?”

The smile on Castiel’s face is an understanding one. “I know you’ll do your best, Dean. And if you never can pay me back, it’s okay too. I told you before, I got a bit of money to spare and there’s no better way to spend it than help out the people I care about.”

It’s not the first time Castiel’s words prompt some kind of emotional response in Dean, and quite honestly he’s not sure what to make of it. He swallows, starting to wonder if Castiel isn’t some kind of mastermind at manipulating those around him. For sure, him stating that Dean is one of these people he cares about can’t be what makes him need to swallow the sudden lump in his throat.

They probably gave me some kind of medicine that’s making me all emotional and woozy , he thinks, not about to believe Castiel himself is getting to him.

Still, Dean decides it’d be safer to go back to being quiet. The less Castiel speaks, the better off Dean will be. So they finish their breakfast in silence, up until Castiel looks up at the huge clock on the wall.

“The nurse asked me to make sure you’d be back in your room at ten thirty,” he says, tilting his head to the side before speaking again. “You’re okay to walk, aren’t you?”

“I got here just fine,” Dean responds, a bit more harsh they he intended.

Castiel squints at him. “Is everything okay? Did I say some—”

“Nah, I’m sorry,” Dean says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m just tired.” He points at the crumpled breakfast bag. “Maybe having a bit of a sugar high, too. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

Castiel’s expression softens and he smiles. “It’s okay, I get it. Let’s go back to the room and you can take a nap while we wait for the doctor to see you.” He opens his trenchcoat to show a book peeking out of the inner pocket. “Good thing I always bring one of those when I leave the house.”

And Dean can’t help chuckle at the idea that Castiel would make sure to have something to read on hand. He shakes his head as he gets to his feet, wincing at the pain that shoots through his spine. The next second, Castiel has an arm wrapped around his midsection to support him.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to get a wheelchair? There’s no shame in being hurt, you know. You got hit by a car, it’d only be normal that you’re not in your best shape right now.”

Taking a step sideways to get out of Castiel’s space – or so that Castiel would be out of his – Dean gingerly bends forward then backward, hoping the knots in his back would loosen up.

“I’m good… always had a bad back. Getting hit by that dumb car just woke some of the pain up.” He then twists from side to side, letting out a relieved breath when he feels – and hears – something pop in his spine. “There ya go!” he says before starting to walk, Castiel following closely behind him.

Dean never gets to sleep – not that he wanted to – because Dr. Roberts enters the room less than fifteen minutes later. Which means that it’s not even eleven thirty when Dean takes place on the passenger side of Castiel’s van. He had honestly been worried that Clarence would be waiting for them in the hospital parking lot, making Castiel laugh when he shares his fear.

“I didn’t know what shape you’d be in, so I didn’t want to take any chances,” he explains. “It clearly was the right decision since I’m sure a carriage ride is the last thing you need with those back pains.”

“You’re right about that,” Dean admits. “What about the bike? Did you guys go and get it? Can it be repaired? I could try to—”

“They took it to look for traces of the car that hit you. Told them we don’t need it back. It’s the fair next weekend and I know this man who sells refurbished bicycles. They’re very nice and not too expensive.” Castiel pauses, his voice wavering when he speaks again. “You were really lucky, Dean. You know that, right?”

“I guess…”

“Believe me, you were. You should be dead right now, Dean. You were hit hard and not only did they not stop to see if you were all right, I don’t think they even tried to brake. It’s as if they never saw you.”

Or as if they hit me on purpose , Dean’s mind provides. Not that he has a tendency of being paranoid, but the sheriff wondering about that earlier had gotten to him. What if his presence at Paradysum has made someone uneasy? If that’s the case, does it mean someone at the house knows who he really is and what he’s looking for? And if someone knows, who the hell was it that told them?

“…what do you think?”

Castiel’s question pulls Dean out of his own mind. “About what?” he asks, because he has no clue what the man has been talking about.

“I was saying that I have some experience in massage therapy. I could probably help out with your back.” Castiel glances to the side to meet Dean’s eyes. “You don’t have to, I know that some people don’t like massages. I thought I should at least offer.”

Dean’s experience with getting close to his marks should have made him accept Castiel’s proposition without hesitation. Except his throat closes up and his mouth goes dry and Dean’s first instinct is to refuse. Still, he can’t; getting close to Castiel, even if it means the guy will have to put his hands on him, is what he’s been aiming for.

He tries to swallow, which doesn’t go so well and he ends up coughing instead. “Yeah… I—yeah—okay—I could do that.”

“I’ll understand if you’d rather not, Dean. It’s totally okay.”

“No, I do… I mean… can’t hurt to try, can it?”

When Castiel looks at him again, his smile is a little wider. “It shouldn’t hurt one bit. You’ll see, I’ll take real good care of you.”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Dean may be some kind of lone wolf type, he still can’t help getting emotional when the residents greet him at the house. Not unlike Adam Milligan had been, Dean gets engulfed in a group hug.

“Guys, he’s about to turn blue. Leave him alone,” he hears Castiel say, which prompts the huddle to break apart.

“Thanks guys, I’m glad to see you too,” Dean says, more sincere than he thought he would. “I really think I should go and take a shower.” He raises an arm to smell his armpit, making some chuckle. “I smell like death.”

“I don’t think a shower’s a good idea,” Castiel says. Before Dean can argue that he really needs to bathe, Castiel keeps going. “I have a bath upstairs. I think a warm soak might be better for your back. What do you say?”

Bingo! Dean almost exclaims. He hasn’t been able to go and explore Castiel’s side of the house yet, and now he’s getting invited there? He shoots a couple of glances around the room to see some looking a bit shocked. Doesn’t seem like Castiel inviting people to his side of the house is a regular occurence.

“Yeah… I guess. I don’t want to intrude,” he says, falsely shy.

“You’re not intruding, I promise,” Castiel replies, a hand extended forward. “Come, I’ll help you to your room so you can grab some clean clothes. Then, we’ll go prepare that bath for you.”

As he lets Castiel lead him toward the stairs, Dean ignores the curious looks on them. He’s too busy hissing when starting to walk causes a sharp pain to shoot up his spine again. He then remembers the pills he’s been given before leaving the hospital.

“Wait a sec,” he says when they reach the bottom of the stairs. He fishes the prescription bottle from his jean pocket and swallows two caplets dry. “That should help,” he says as he prepares to start ascending. He bristles when he feels Castiel’s hand graze his lower back.

“Look, Cas… I’m good, you know. I’ll go get my stuff and join you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, don’t worry so much. I’ll be there in a sec.” He pauses to think. “What door is it, though? Because if your side’s like ours—”

“There are only four doors, my side isn’t as big. Also, the bathroom’s only accessible through my bedroom. Last door on the right.”

“Perfect, thanks… I’ll be there soon,” Dean says.

Without another word, they climb the staircase, each going their own way once it splits in two. Dean can feel all those gazes following him until he disappears at the top of the stairs. It can’t be the first time Castiel brings someone to his bedroom, can it? Dean saw the surveillance picture of him and that unknown guy making out. Even with the low quality of the image, it had been clear something more was about to happen, or that it had not long before.

When Dean enters his room, the sight of his bed is enough to just want to curl up on it and sleep. He shakes his head, bent on ignoring the feeling and go do some investigating already. If he’s lucky, Castiel may be in a good enough disposition to give him a tour and chat a bit. A flicker of excitement makes his skin tingle on the back of his neck. Not about to start analyzing why that is, Dean grabs clean clothes and his shower bag before making his way back toward Castiel’s wing.

“Come in,” Dean hears the man say after knocking on the door. He complies and opens, certain he’d be met with some kind of treasure filled dungeon. Instead, he finds a room that, if rather big, is almost bare. The only significant piece of furniture is a massive post bed. It looks old, but well taken care of and sits at an angle in the opposite side of the room.

The rest of the space is bland, the only other furnitures being an old dresser – with a fair amount of books precariously balanced on top of it – and a threadbare armchair set next to the window.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Castiel says. Stupefied by the room, Dean hadn’t seen Castiel standing to his left, next to what has to be the bathroom door.

“You call that humble? That bed alone must be worth thousands of dollars.”

Castiel shrugs, his head tilted as he considers the unmade bed. “Maybe… I never looked over the appraisal documents. I needed a bed and it was there, so I kept it. Just bought a new mattress.” He crooks a finger at Dean so he’ll follow him before disappearing in the bathroom. It’s actually the first door through a walk-in – one with more books than clothes – that in turn opens on a bright bathroom.

“Now, this is luxury,” Castiel announces when Dean joins him. His jaw slack with shock, Dean can only agree. Not because it’s beautiful – because he finds it ugly as hell – but it certainly is luxurious. There’s marble everywhere, from top to ceiling. And there’s brass. And glass. It’s like standing inside a jewelry box.

“I know it’s a bit much, but everything works perfectly. I don’t mind the decor all that much. My grandmother had expensive tastes.”

“This is your grandparents’ house?”

“One of their houses, yes. One of which my dad inherited, and then I inherited it from him. You didn’t think I had bought this place, did you?”

“I didn’t really think about it,” Dean says, so very tempted to start asking a whole lot of questions. Doesn’t matter that he already has most of the answers. “I guess it explains how you have the means to pay for it. And for your friends’ hospital bills.”

“You bath is ready,” Castiel says after a slight pause. Asking questions might not be in the cards right now after all. “Don’t you have anything more comfortable to wear?” he then asks, eyeing the clothes Dean has brought.

“Jeans are comfortable enough. It’s either that or walking around in my underwear. M’told it’s not that kinda place.”

Castiel huffs as he goes back into the walk-in. Dean puts his stuff next to the sink and starts peeling off his clothes, which is more difficult than hoped it would be. Getting dressed that morning hadn’t been this hard. He’s starting to think he might be stuck in his t-shirt when Dean feels Castiel’s hands on him.

“Just wanna help,” Castiel says when Dean flinches. He gently pulls the t-shirt over Dean’s head then throws it on top of the flannel. “I found something better for you to wear,” he says, pointing at what looks like a tracksuit, and a bright green one at that.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Dean says, nonplussed. “I’m not wearing that, I’ll look like a six foot radioactive cucumber.”

“Don’t be a baby, Dean. I wish I had more fashion forward clothes to give you, but I don’t.”

“I’ll take pajamas, if you can spare one. Anything but this thing.”

“I don’t wear pajamas,” Castiel says, a single eyebrow arched high. And hell if it’s not enough to make Dean start to blush. “I can always let you wear your own clothes, Dean. Tell me, how did that go, taking off a t-shirt by yourself?” He takes the jacket and unfolds it. “See? There’s a zipper, it’d be easy to get in and out of.”

Dean huffs and rolls his eyes. “Oh, all right… I’ll wear the damn tracksuit.” Castiel’s pointed look makes him swallow. Again. “I mean… thanks, Cas. You’re right, it’ll be more comfortable. Butt ugly, but comfortable.”

This time, it’s Castiel who rolls his eyes. “You’re lucky I like you, Dean. Otherwise I’d… otherwise I’d still be helping you, who am I kidding?”

And just like that, the atmosphere is lighter. After making sure that Dean will be okay, Castiel lets him alone to bathe. He still promises that he’ll be right outside the door if he needs any help.

Dean takes his time, mostly because the hot water is doing wonders on his back. That and whatever product Cas put in the water. It smells heavenly and all Dean wants to do is lie back and relax. Doesn’t matter that the tub is set in a marble box, it’s comfortable as shit. He closes his eyes and takes deep breaths, thinking he could stay like this forever.

He realizes he had fallen asleep when Castiel’s voice startles him awake.

“Dean? Are you all right in there?”

“Huh… yeah… I’m good. I think I dozed off for a second.” He sits up and grabs the washcloth. “I’ll be out in a minute,” he says.

“Take your time,” Castiel calls back. Dean still washes himself quickly and gets out, drying himself fully before putting on the hideous tracksuit. He doesn’t bother zipping up the vest, eager now to just go back to his room; he needs a nap, and he won’t be doing that wearing this shit.

He’s gathering his stuff when Castiel knocks on the door again. “Are you okay? Do you need help?”

“No, I’m good, I’m dressed.”

Castiel opens the door but doesn’t come in, hiding a smile behind his hand. “Oh, dear…” he says under his breath before starting to laugh. Dean looks down at himself then back at Castiel, his lips pursed.

“Told you I’d look ridiculous.”

“You did tell me. I’m sorry,” Castiel says as he fails to control his hilarity. “But at least they’re comfortable, right?”

“They are and yet, comfortable isn’t on the list of things I’m feeling right now. I’ll be better in my room, where nobody can see me.” If he were to be honest, Dean might say he’s exaggerating his discomfort so Castiel would keep laughing. Because Castiel laughing is a beautiful sound, and a beautiful sight, and Dean somehow feels the need to bask in that a little while longer.

They laugh for a couple of minutes, until the laughter dies down and then they’re just standing there with their eyes locked together. As if to prove something, Dean forces himself not to avert his gaze, wondering if Castiel will ever look away. When it becomes evident that he won’t, Dean puts and end to their staring contest, starting to fear Castiel will be able to read his mind and find out who he really is.

Don’t be ridiculous, Winchester!

Dean clears his throat, starting to feel out of place. “I guess I’ll go back to my room and take a nap. Those pills are real strong.”

“Of course, you should.” Castiel turns around and leads the way back into the room. “Do you need help or are you—”

“I’m good, Cas… thanks a whole lot, the bath really helped.”

“I’m glad, Dean. Don’t hesitate to ask if you’d like another one. And…” Castiel’s gaze dips lower on Dean’s naked chest, if only for a fraction of a second. “Just want to remind you, I give amazing massages. For your back?”

Dean has to repress a smile. “Yeah, of course. I’ll think about it… thanks.”

Castiel nods, satisfied. “Perfect. Just tell me when you’d like to do this.”

“I will. Thanks again, Cas.”

Dean leaves to get to his side of the house, glad not to be crossing paths with anyone. The less people see him wearing that green monstrosity, the better he’ll feel. Once in his room, he drops the clothes he’s been transporting then does the same with the jacket before getting under the covers. He barely has time to pull the curtain close before falling into a dreamless slumber.

When Dean wakes up, it’s to find the room much darker than it should be. Usually, the light of day would have started peeking through the sides of the curtains. Then he remembers; the accident, the hospital, taking a bath with Castiel. Well… not with Castiel, but in Castiel’s private bathroom. Everything gets even more vivid when he tries to roll himself out of bed and his back refuses to budge, as if all the bones in his spine have fused together.

“Fuck!” Dean lets out through gritted teeth. He has a thought for the bottle of pills in his jean pocket. Last time he saw those, they were on the floor, too far to be able to just extend a hand a grab them.

He takes a couple of deep breaths, bracing himself for the world of hurt coming his way then tries to roll on his side again, only to cry out in pain when that doesn’t work.

“Urgh! Son of a bitch!”

Doesn’t matter that he’s shaved off ten years from his actual thirty-eight years old, he pretty much feels like a fifty year old man right now, and it sucks major ass. He doesn’t have time to try moving again that someone is knocking on his door.

“Dean? Are you okay?” he hears Hannah say. He winces when he remembers that she sleeps in the room next to his.

“I’m good, Hannah. Sorry if I woke you.”

“I’m coming in,” she says, not giving him time to refuse before pushing the door in and flicking the lights on. Dean would have liked to glare at her, but he can’t, the harsh light burning holes in his retinas. “What do you need?” she asks, Dean feeling the mattress dip when she sits on it.

Dean harrumphs, hating to admit that he might need help after all. He points in the vicinity of the clothes on the floor, his other arm thrown over his face. “Meds… they’re in my jeans.”

“All right,” she says before getting up to go through the clothes. “Found them. How many?” she says as she sits back on Dean’s bed.

“Two.”

“Water?”

“I’m good, thanks.” Dean swallows the pills dry, still hiding his eyes behind his arm. “What time is it?”

“Almost one in the morning. You slept all day.” Dean hears Hannah moving around, then the telling noise of the lights being flicked off. “I shut the lights off, Dean,” Hannah confirms as she sits with him again. “Are you hungry? Or do you need to go to the bathroom, maybe?”

Dean takes a second to think. He’s definitely not hungry, but he does feel the need to pee. And now that he’s realized that, it’s becoming oddly urgent. Except he can’t even get up. He takes a deep breath, hating the fact that he has to ask someone for help.

“I gotta pee, but I can’t get out of bed,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I can find something you can pee into. Let me—”

“Just help me up, okay? I’ll go to the bathroom, I just need to get up.”

“But—”

“Please?”

His whole life, Dean has been confronted with his little brother’s expert puppy eyes. Hell if he’s not conjuring Sammy right now as he pleads for Hannah to help him. It seems to be working wonders, even under the dim light coming from the hall, because she sighs and gets to her feet, ready to try and help him up.

The third time he tries to roll over with Hannah’s help, something in Dean’s back snaps and it’s like he can breathe freely again. He gingerly sits up, then gets to his feet with Hannah making sure he won’t tumble over. He doesn’t know if the pills have started to work already or if it’s some sort of placebo effect, but Dean’s starting to feel much better. Except now that he’s upright, the urge to pee is even more pressing.

Dean makes his way to the bathroom, Hannah following close by. She stays in the hall, promising she’ll be there when he’s done. Which is why it’s a surprise for Dean to see her gone and Castiel leaning next to the door when he comes out.

“Cas? What’s wrong? Where’s Hannah?”

Instead of answering, Castiel smiles and offers him his bent arm to hold onto. Dean almost laughs at the sight, yet he’s compelled to accept. He locks his arm with Castiel’s and lets himself be led back to his room. It’s not until the door closes on them that Castiel speaks in a hush.

“I was on my way to see how you were doing. You never came down for lunch or dinner, didn’t even wake up when I knocked on your door earlier. I had to make sure you were still breathing.”

“I’m good, see?”

“Hannah told me you had trouble getting out of bed?”

“Yeah, but I took my meds, I think they helped.”

“Even so, you might not want to be lying down again. Not without—”

When Castiel goes to grab the pillow, Dean’s own hand shoot out to grab his wrist. “I got this,” he says, worried that if Castiel starts fiddling around with the beddings, he’ll see the hole he cut in the mattress.

“I can help you, Dean,” Castiel counters with his eyes on Dean’s hand, not trying to get out of his hold. “That’s all this is.”

“I know, and I appreciate that, but I’m good. I’ll find a comfortable way to sleep on my own. If I can’t do this here, maybe I’ll try the lazy boy downstairs. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“I could go get some pillows for you downstairs. Would you like that?”

“No need… see? I’m okay, and breathing, and getting high on pain meds… everything’s peachy.”

Castiel lifts his gaze to meet Dean’s and nods, taking his arm back. “If you say so. But if you need anything, Hannah’s right next door, okay? She can help.”

“Thanks, but I’ll be okay. I swear.”

“Good,” Castiel says as he gets up. “I’ll come back to see you in the morning, then. Goodnight. Lights on or off?”

“On for now… thanks, Cas.”

Once the door has closed on Castiel, Dean exhales, relieved. If he’d been a little less alert, his cover may have been blown right then and there. He waits for a couple of minutes then pushes the pillow to fish the phone from its hiding place, remembering he still hadn’t checked in with Charlie.

His blood runs cold when he blindly grabs it, an alien – yet familiar – sensation under his fingers. He knows what it is, still he refuses to believe it. Until the phone is out, that is. As he’d feared, a piece of torn paper is taped over the screen. In block letters, a simple note:

Who are you?

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Charlie: What do you mean, you’re compromised?

Dean: Someone found my phone. Taped a note on it asking who I am.

Charlie: Did they get in?

Dean: Doubt it but they tried. Had an alert message on the home screen.

Charlie: Any idea who it could be?

Dean: No clue. Spent the night at the hospital.

Charlie: Yeah, I heard. How are you feeling?

Dean: I’m good. Got some minor scrapes, pain pills, and Novak offered me a massage.

Charlie: Gonna go for it?

Dean: My back really hurts.

Charlie: You think he’s got other ideas in mind? Sexy ideas?

Dean: He might.

Charlie: What then?

Dean: I’ll handle it. Don’t worry about that.

Charlie: Not worried. By the way, you took your damn time for checking in. Thanks for that.

Dean: I’ll try not to get hit by a car again.

Charlie: You better. What else is new?

Dean: Don’t think it matters, but there’s a new baker at Witch’s Brew. Cas says her name’s Krissy. I don’t have a last name.

Charlie: I’ll ask Kev to look it up. Anything else?

Dean: Nope. Gonna try and find out who’s my mystery penpal.

Charlie: You should have a system info app in your phone. Send me the log, all right? I’ll check it out.

Dean: Thanks, I’ll do that. Talk to you tomorrow. Over and out.

The way Dean wakes up is pretty much a repetition of what happened the last time; he feels as limber as a slab of concrete and his back hurts like hell. Thankfully, the pills are on the side table this time and he doesn’t need to be doing any kind of acrobatics to get to them.

After swallowing two of the caplets, he closes his eyes and waits for some sort of relief to course through his body. Following Castiel’s advice, he’d pretty much slept in a sitting position and he has to admit it had been the best decision he’s taken in a while.

Ten minutes later, he starts feeling like he can move around and sits up, prudent. He still feels a bit stiff, but it’s not as bad. And just like last time, his bladder reminds him of its existence quite violently. He doesn’t bother putting the tracksuit jacket on before making his way to the restroom, shivering with contentment as he relieves himself.

As he walks back to his room, Dean can hear the low hum of the people talking downstairs. Before he’s to join them, he considers the jacket on the floor. He looks down at himself, forced to agree that the bottoms are pretty comfortable. Except he can’t bare the thought of wearing the jacket with them. So he decides to try and put a t-shirt on instead, hoping the black will help tone down the vibrancy of the bottoms.

Putting the garment on isn’t as easy as he’d hoped, but it’s not difficult enough to go back to the jacket. Once dressed, Dean makes his way in the kitchen where about half of the people are having breakfast. Walking in, he makes sure to say good morning to each and every one of them. They all respond with a smile, none of them looking at him any differently than they did before.

Whoever found his phone has to be somewhere else, which means he needs to find Meg, Hael, and Hannah to see if they’re acting any different. It has to be one of them, because if it’s not, it leaves one person; Castiel. And that would mean the guy’s a hell of an actor as he didn’t seem any different the night before.

“What’s for breakfast?” he asks, going to see what’s being kept warm on the stove. The aroma might have been enticing, he can’t help but purse his lips at the sight of one of the pan’s content. “Oatmeal? Really?” He takes a peak in the other one; looks like some sort of chunky applesauce.

“Quinoa, actually,” Gabriel provides from his place at the table. “It’s a two parter: You put some of the quinoa in a bowl, then dump the apple sauce over it. It’s really good, and nutritious. You might need that.”

Being run over by a car shouldn’t mean he has to eat rabbit food – and he’s pretty sure even rabbits don’t eat that quinoa crap. Instead, Dean feels entitled to something satisfyingly decadent. “Where’s the meat? Need some greasy proteins, man.”

“Quinoa has a bit of protein, but if you want more, you can always make yourself some eggs. The pans are in the cabinet next to the stove.”

“But… oh… okay, all right.”

Could Gabriel be the one who found his phone after all? That would explain how he doesn’t seem all that eager to help. Dean opens the door of the cabinet and groans as he tries to bend down without breaking his back.

“Jesus! I’m only messing with you,” Gabriel says as he runs to help Dean, grabbing the pan he’d been aiming for. “Go sit down before you kill yourself, would you?” Gabriel twirls the pan in his hand before letting it fall on the stove with a clang. “What would you like? Over easy? Scrambled? Want toasts with that?”

“Whatever’s simpler, Gabe. I could do this myself, you know.”

“Well, per your own admission, you can’t cook for shit. I’d rather not have you set fire to my kitchen, or even poison yourself.”

“All right, then,” Dean finally says. Maybe Gabriel isn’t the one who found the phone after all.

A three egg cheese omelet and buttered toasts – topped with the apple sauce – later, Dean is sipping on his coffee with his gaze outside. He’s glad to have an excuse not to have to go anywhere right now because it started to rain not long ago. Apparently, the others don’t care so much, most still have gone outside to do whatever work they need to be doing.

He’s thinking about getting some more coffee when he notices Castiel walking out of the woods wearing the beekeeper hat. Dean’s lips curl up in a smile, like it does anytime he sees the man with that thing. It reminds him of those old-timey diver suits and, well… he finds it hilarious, for some reason.

Castiel comes in through the kitchen and wipes his feet, Dean’s nape tingling when Castiel’s gaze falls on him.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says once he’s has taken his boots and hat off. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did, thanks.”

Castiel nods as he puts the hat on the table and takes his gloves off, never once looking away from Dean. When he starts unzipping his oversuit, Dean’s throat closes up. It doesn’t matter that Castiel is wearing clothes underneath, Dean can’t help but feel like he’s being treated to some tame, yet kinky version of a striptease. “How’s your back this morning?”

Dean forces his gaze to move to the side and clears his throat. “S’okay… I mean, it hurts, but I slept kinda seated. It helped.” He glances back at Castiel who’s now pulling off the suit over his socked feet.

“I’m glad,” Castiel answers as he takes all the equipment in his arms. “I’ll go put this up to dry in the laundry room,” he says, making sure to catch Dean’s gaze again. “If you’re up for it, I’d have time to massage you now. Today’s not a good one for bees, so I’m open for business. What do you say?”

For reasons he doesn’t feel the need to think about at that very moment, Dean would have preferred for Castiel to have forgotten about his offer. Except he should have knows Cas wouldn’t forget, not after looking at him the way he did in that ugly bathroom of his.

His throat closing up again, Dean feels himself nodding. Might as well get this over with.

“Excellent. Let me do this, then we’ll go upstairs, all right?”

“Okay,” Dean manages to say. He looks on as Castiel leaves the room with his gear, having to consciously remind himself to breathe when he starts feeling about to pass out.

What the hell is wrong with me? I’ve gotten massages before. The legit kind too, not just the sexy ones with the happy ending. What if he offers me a happy ending? If I say no, is he gonna kick me out? And if I say yes, is he gonna expect me to give him one too? Could I do that? I mean, I’ve done that… it’s just a hand job. Hand jobs are safe enough, aren’t they? I could even do mouth stuff if the situation called for it, not that I’d suggest it, but—

The storm in Dean’s mind eases up when Castiel comes back to get him, once more offering his arm for Dean to latch onto. He complies, letting Castiel lead him upstairs like he did the day before. This time, they don’t go to Castiel’s room, instead entering the first door on the right. Once more, Dean’s jaw falls slack at the sight he’s confronted with.

“That was my mother’s ‘special room’,” Castiel offers, curling his fingers around the words. “My parents wouldn’t come here often, but when they did, Naomi couldn’t bare the thought of missing on any of her favorite luxuries. In hindsight, it’s no wonder my father ever fell for her. She was just as much of a high maintenanced snob as his own mother was.”

Ignoring the old tanning bed, Castiel guides Dean to a massage table set under the window. Castiel lets him go to grab a towel and unfold it. “How would you prefer to do this?”

Dean squints back at him. “Do what?”

“Obviously, you’ll need to take your t-shirt off… what about the rest? If you wish to be nude, I don’t mind. I myself find massages more efficient when I don’t have clothes on. I find the lack of clothes quite freeing, relaxing.”

There’s that lump in the throat again. “I—hmm—I don’t—can I keep my underwear?”

“Of course, you can. What matters is that you’re comfortable. You can even keep the pants on if that’s better for you.”

“Nah… I mean, underwear’s fine,” Dean mutters as he starts pulling on his t-shirt. This time, he can take it off himself, Castiel waiting patiently next to the table. Dean feels the tip of his ears warm up when he drops the pants and he hates it. He hates finding himself getting flustered whenever he’s in Castiel’s presence. He hates that the man’s blue gaze seems enough to shake him at his core. He hates—

It’s Castiel’s warm hands landing on his back that make Dean realize he’s lying on his front on the massage table.

When did that happen?

He decides not to worry about it and closes his eyes, thinking he should at least try to enjoy the soft movements of Castiel’s hands on his skin. For a guy that spends his days working outside, his hands feel freakishly smooth.

“I won’t be too harsh, seeing that you were just hurt,” Castiel says as his fingers dig in the grooves of his spine, ever so softly. “You do feel very tense, though. You don’t relax much, do you?”

Dean’s answer is nothing more than a hum and a slight shake of the head.

“I guess never belonging anywhere can’t be helping with your stress levels.” Castiel’s hand travelling toward the small of his back is almost enough for Dean to want to get up and run back to his room. Almost. Instead, he lets out a trembling sigh when Castiel presses his thumbs in his lower back.

“Am I hurting you?” Castiel asks, suspending the movement.

“Nah,” Dean says under his breath, hoping he spoke loud enough for Castiel to hear. He apparently did because Castiel does it again, this time eliciting a whimper from Dean. Castiel’s hands stay put, kneading whatever muscles he’s got down there before starting to move back up.

As Castiel works, Dean finds himself overcome with all sorts of emotions. He keeps his eyes closed as he tries to identify them, failing when a particular – and unwelcomed – sensation blooms in the lower depths of in his belly. His skin warms and tingles, and he can feel that fucking lump in his throat again. His eyes starts stinging and he’s unable to hold the sob that rises from the pit of his stomach.

“That’s it, Dean… let it all out,” Castiel says, now rubbing soft circles in his back with one hand while he wraps the other over the back of his neck.

“M’sor—sorry—I don’t—”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s totally normal,” Castiel reassures him, never stopping his ministrations. “Unless you’d like me to stop. It’s up to you, Dean.”

And hell if the thought of those warm and strong hands leaving him isn’t enough to make him want to cry harder. Again, he shakes his head as he lets the tears flow free. They stay like this for some time, Castiel cajoling Dean while he rides the wave of emotions. He doesn’t even realize he’s been rocking his hips until Castiel takes his hands off of him.

“Would you like me to give you a minute?” he asks Dean who immediately stops moving.

“Shit. I’m sorry… I’ll go… I didn’t—”

“Again, this is a normal occurrence. Only asking in case you feel the need to… find some release.”

Dean knows his face is probably crimson red by now, with all the crying and getting caught with a boner. A boner he’s been trying to satiate by dry humping the guy’s massage table, no less.

He huffs, deciding he needs to stop being this unassertive person. Dean Smith lived on the streets, for fuck’s sake. And Dean Smith doesn’t get flustered when he gets a boner from a man’s hands on him. So he takes a deep breath and turns around to sit up, dangling his legs off to the side.

He forces himself to look Castiel in the eye. “I’m not uncomfortable,” he manages to say. He swallows, knowing his tone of voice alone is enough to know he’s lying. As if to test him, Castiel’s gaze trails downward until it reaches the tented underwear, then climbs back up slowly to stop over his heart.

“What does your tattoo mean?”

Dean licks his lips, tempted to take Castiel’s hand and guide it where his eyes had just been. He could really go for a handjob right now, to a point of not caring who the hand is attached to. He pushes the urge aside and looks down at his own breast bone.

“Doesn’t mean much. Wanted a tattoo and I liked this.”

That’s one thing Dean won’t ever disclose to a mark; the real story behind his body art. This is something that belongs to Dean Winchester and his brother Sam, and it’s never to be told to virtual strangers. There’s a reason they share that particular tattoo right over their hearts and it’s nobody’s business but theirs.

Castiel and Dean are looking into each other’s eyes again, and Dean once more has to force himself not to look away. Until he has to because he’s finding himself once more getting overwhelmed, the staring contest certainly not helping with his downstairs problem.

“How’s your back? Do you feel any better?”

Dean rubs at his eyes, if only to make sure the sting doesn’t turn into tears again.

“Feels a bit stiff,” he says, only to bite his lower lip when he realizes what he said. “My back…”

If Dean is too mortified to laugh, Castiel certainly finds the response amusing enough. He starts chuckling, his hand landing on Dean’s thigh. Dean swallows, his eyes on the hand; it’s too close, yet not close enough. He wants…

What the fuck’s wrong with me?

Castiel is still laughing when Dean swats the hand off and pushes himself off the table. “Gotta go,” he mutters as he grabs his clothes from the floor to run out as if the devil himself is after him.

It doesn’t even register with Dean that he slams the door of his room. He lets the clothes fall to the floor before dipping both hands below the waistband of his boxers, letting out a shaky moan when he finally gets to touch himself. He’s so hard that if he doesn’t do something soon, it will no doubt turn into a medical condition.

He brings a hand up to lick it and shoves it back down to jack himself off, the other hand tugging at his balls in that way that hurts just right. There’s no time to tease and be subtle, he just needs to come and he needs it now.

And when he does, the sight of his spunk landing on the green jacket has to be the most satisfying thing he’s seen since in years.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

It takes some time for Dean to dare come out of his room. Rain is still going strong outside, which means Castiel is probably somewhere in the house. And Dean would rather not have to face him right this minute.

What he’d really love to do is talk to Charlie. Not text her, but talk to her, hear her voice. Not because she’s his partner in this investigation, but because she’s his best friend aside from Sam. And there’s no way Dean would ever want to talk about what just happened with his kid brother. They’re close, just not that kind of close.

Turns out she hadn’t been wrong in saying he might need her help the moment he’d get into a gay panic. Like every time she’d said it, he dismissed the idea because, in his opinion, to have a gay panic you gotta be gay. Except, not once during any of his investigations did he feel the way he does right now. Maybe because getting with a female mark wasn’t confusing. And, if he were to be honest, none of his male marks had ever been confusing either.

None of them had made him need to jerk off the way he just did. Not even after almost considering going all the way with that Monroe dude he’d been investigating three years before. He’d gotten broners before – Charlie doesn’t believe those are a thing, but she doesn’t know a thing about dicks now, does she? Those had been automatic bodily functions and he’d never felt the urge to just… come. Not until now.

Sitting on his bed with his eyes fixated on the messed up jacket, Dean twirls the phone in his hand, debating if he should try and call Charlie. He can’t really hear the people chatting downstairs from his room, which means nobody should hear him even though they’re hanging out in the main room. Still, someone could decide to come upstairs and if they heard Dean speak, they’d come in and then—

Before he can even start thinking about all the things that could happen if he got caught – again – he’s pressing the call button on Charlie’s name. It takes a couple of rings for her to answer and when she does, she doesn’t greet him the way she usually would.

“Hello?”

“Charlie?” Dean murmurs, keeping an eye on the door.

“Oh good, it’s you! I was worried someone had took your phone and actually got in this time.” Charlie pauses, then speaks again. “Are you okay? Why the call?”

“Didn’t feel like texting.”

“What if someone hears you?”

Dean shrugs, then remembers she can’t see him. Maybe he should have tried to video chat with her or something. “If someone does, I’ll find an excuse. I just needed to hear your voice.”

Charlie chuckles, if only a little. “Why Dean, I’m flattered, but also worried. What’s going on?”

“Nothing…”

“Dean, I know you. You wouldn’t be calling me if nothing was up. Do you know who found your phone? Is that why—”

“Nah… I don’t know, not yet. I just… Charlie, I don’t think I’m the right guy for this mission.”

“Why the hell not?”

They both fall silent, Charlie waiting for a response while Dean can’t seem to be able to voice his concerns. Except Charlie really does know him and it finally dawns on her.

“Oh… you let Novak massage you?”

Although it’s a relief that she got it, Dean still says nothing.

“Did anything more happen?”

Dean’s voice is small when he answers. “Yes and no. I mean… Cas massaged me, and of course everything went to shit.” He sighs, the tears once more stinging his eyes. “I just started bawling and… I got excited.”

“Crying during a massage is pretty common. And, well… getting excited is also a thing. Has to do with being super relaxed or something. It’s happened to me, too. Is that what’s bothering you? You got a boner because a dude was massaging you?”

“It wasn’t a relaxed boner, Char… I know the difference, it wasn’t my first massage. I had to—had to take care of it. Broners don’t do that.”

“Not that thing again… and easy on the details, please? Love you to bits, but I don’t need those mental images like… ever!” Her chuckling ends in a sigh. “Well… again, no details, but… did Novak help you out?”

“Jesus, Char! No! I—I ran back to my room.”

“Huh… did he see—”

“Oh yeah, he saw. I mean, he looked… and I kinda wanted him to… you know.”

“So you ran away.”

“Yeah.”

Charlie sighs again, but doesn’t speak just yet. Dean knows her enough to know she’s trying to find the right words, so he waits.

“Tell me something… again, no details, but… you’ve done stuff with guys before, haven’t you?”

With his throat closing up again, Dean can answer with a choked hum. Yeah, he’s done stuff. Hand stuff, mostly. Maybe a bit of mouth stuff, too. It’s not like he’s enjoyed all that much. He’d like to tell Charlie just that, but for some reason, the words won’t pass his lips.

“Why is getting with Novak different, then?” she soon asks. This time, Dean can only shrug, doesn’t matter that she can’t see him. “I mean, I think I get why it’d be different. My questions is why do you care so much? Would it be so bad to be attracted to guys? Don’t tell me you think it makes less of a man.” She sighs. “Do you?”

“I—I mean—not less of a man, of course. It’s just—”

That’s all Dean has time to say before someone knocks on his door. He hangs up without a word and drops the phone back in the mattress.

“Come in?” he says, convinced Castiel is waiting on the other side. When he sees Meg instead, he has no idea how to feel about it. “Hey, Meg.”

“Heya, stranger,” she says as she walks in. Dean swallows. Did she ever call him that before? Is she the one behind the note? She comes to sit with him, her gaze never faltering from his. “Who were you talking to just now?”

“Huh?”

“I heard you talking.” She travels an inquisitive gaze around the room before settling it back on Dean. “Unless you have imaginary friends?” She shrugs, still with that crooked smile on her lips. “That’s okay if you do… I mean, as long as they don’t tell you to start murdering people, I don’t really care.”

“No imaginary friends.” He forces himself to blush and looks away. “Was reciting my mantra.”

When he looks back at her, she has one eyebrow arched high; doesn’t look like she believes him.

“Is that so… you? You meditate?”

“What? You ask if I have imaginary friends, but meditating’s weird?”

Meg cackles, slapping Dean’s knee as she does. She then turns on the bed to be facing him properly, making sure their eyes meet. “I could have believed you if I hadn’t found your phone yesterday… maybe.”

The triumph on Meg’s face is enough for Dean’s features to close off. So it was her.

“It’s an old thing I found. I use it to listen to m—”

“I may not have been able to get in, but I could still see you got bars, man. I know it’s live.”

Dean sighs, wondering if she’d believe the phone’s a gift from a john that has a thing for sexting. He’s about to say just that when he sees Meg’s expression; whatever he’s about to say, she probably won’t buy it. To a certain extent, he knows that she’s already guessed who he is and why he’s here.

“Who did you tell?” he eventually asks through gritted teeth.

“Nobody.”

“Means you want something… what is it?”

Instead of answering, Meg leans in his personal space, up until their faces are only a couple of inches apart. Dean swallows; he’s in deep shit.

“Are you a cop?”

“I’d rather—”

“What you’d rather do is answer my questions, dude. Otherwise, I’m going to Cas. So… you a cop?”

Dean sighs again, deflated. Whatever happens now doesn’t matter, his investigation got shot in the groin.

“FBI.”

“You here for of Anna?”

Meg being this perceptive is enough of a surprise for it to show on Dean’s face. Meg notices and huffs.

“Being a Hollywood starlet doesn’t mean I’m an idiot, Dean.” She squints her eyes. “If that’s even your real name.”

“My name’s Dean, just not Dean Smith.” He too squints at her. “Don’t bother, I’m not telling you. So, what is it you want? Why didn’t you tell Cas already?”

“If you’re here for Anna, I have no reason to wanna blow your cover. I could have bet all the money in the world that she didn’t have a relapse. And, well… you being here kinda confirms that.” Still squinting, she tilts her head. “Do you know what happened? Did somebody do this to her? I’m not a suspect, am I?”

Although he would have preferred not to have anyone find him out, Dean still feels somewhat relieved that it ended up being Meg. He hasn’t known her for a long time, but if she loved Anna as much as he thinks she did, there’s a better chance that she’ll be an ally rather than a liability.

“Like everyone here, you were. Not for long, though. I can see you really liked Anna.”

“I loved her,” Meg confirms, not sounding as self-assured now. “She didn’t love me, not the way I wanted her to, but I could live with that, you know? It sucked, but I never would have hurt her over it.”

“Yeah, kinda picked-up on that.” He takes her hand in his and gives it a comforting squeeze. “I’m really sorry for your loss, Meg. And I swear I’ll do all I can to find out what happened.”

Meg visibly bristles then gives him a small nod before lifting a determined gaze on him. “There’s something I don’t get, though. I mean, why did they tell us she died of an overdose? Did they lie to us? Doesn’t matter that I don’t believe it, it’s still what they told us.”

Dean gives her a contrite smile and shakes his head. “Look, you already know far to much.”

“I can help. I’ve lived here for years now. I know lots of people, here and in town.”

“I’m sure you do, but—”

“I can still go see Cas and tell him everything.”

This time, Dean doesn’t let her threats rattle him. “You won’t do that, Meg. ‘Cause if you do, it means I’ll have to leave. You’ll never get to know what happened to Anna.”

It’s all it takes for Meg’s eyes to start filling with tears. Dean visibly winces. “Look, I’ll keep you in the loop as much as I can. I just can’t tell you everything, all right?”

“Can you just confirm that Anna didn’t die from an overdose? That’s all I really need to know.”

Dean takes a deep breath, knowing she won’t like his answer one bit. “I’m sorry, Meg. She really did. But we’re sure she wasn’t alone when it happened, somebody dum—left her where she was found. That’s why I’m here, to find out what really happened.”

Meg can’t hold the tears back anymore, letting them roll down her cheeks. And although she’s crying, the smile she offers Dean is warm. “Thank you for clarifying. I’m sure she didn’t do this to herself, so I’m glad someone other than me seems to care. Like I said, I’ve been here for almost four years now, so if you need to know anything, I’ll do my best to answer.” She wipes her face and sniffles. “Are you gonna tell Cas? You should tell Cas. I mean, I’m sure he could help even more than me.”

Dean shakes his head once more. “Nobody can know, Meg. You promised.”

“I won’t tell him. I’m just saying that you should.”

“I can’t. He—” Dean cuts himself off. She certainly can’t know that Paradysum has been under the FBI’s radar since before Anna’s death, only for different reasons. And of course, Meg kind of picks up on that too.

“Cas didn’t do this,” Meg says, her voice almost a growl. “He’s the best man I’ve ever known. You can’t be suspecting him, are you?”

“Meg—”

“No… this is not happening.” She gets up and starts pacing around the room with her gaze on the floor. She stops before she gets to step on the green jacket. “What is… ew!” She turns a judgemental look on Dean. “You’re not washing your clothes with mine ever again. Erh… guys are gross!” She kicks the jacket as far as possible and resumes her pacing.

“I mean, Cas is a pure and kind soul. There’s no way he could ever be… it can’t be his fault. He can’t even swat a stupid fly. And don’t get me started about those damn bees.” She turns to him again, overly exasperated. “He gave me shit when I got stung by a bee. The bee. Fucking. Stung. Me! How was I the one to get in trouble?”

As Meg speaks, her voice gets louder and Dean goes to stand in her way, tempted to slap a hand over her mouth so she’ll shut up. He doesn’t have to, her spiel ending in a disgraceful squeak when she bumps into him.

“I’m not saying he did this, Meg,” Dean says. “All I’m saying is that people can’t know why I’m here. Nobody can know.”

“Well… I know.”

“Yeah, you do. Really wish I had Will Smith’s memory zapper thing, but I don’t and nobody else can know. Am I making myself clear?” Dean notices the twinkle in Meg’s eyes and doesn’t give her a chance to say whatever snark she just thought of. “All I have to do is tell my friends I need you removed and they’ll find a reason to do it. Doesn’t matter if they have to fabricate it.”

“You’re saying the FBI would Marilyn Monroe me?”

“Don’t be cute, Meg!” Dean says in a huff. “No, but we can have you disappear for a little while. I don’t think you’d like that very much.”

Meg rolls her eyes. “Oh, all right. I won’t tell. But you’re gonna keep me posted, right?”

“As much as I can. So, if I got questions, I can ask?”

“Anything I can do to help, I’ll do,” she confirms as she goes to the door. Before opening it, she turns back to Dean with a knowing look on her face. “Tell me… the sheriff and her wife? They’re in on it, aren’t they?”

Dean only nods, putting a finger over his mouth.

“Gotcha!” she says with a wink before leaving him alone.

Only then does Dean let himself start to panic. That’s another thing that’s never happened to him before; being found out. And even though he believes Meg when she says she won’t rat him out, he can’t say that Charlie or even Bobby will want to take the chance.

As he thinks about what to tell Charlie, he tries to find an acceptable reason not to say anything to her. When he fails at that, he sighs as he types a quick message then presses the send button.

Dean: Meg knows.

He chews at his lower lip as he waits for her response to come.

Charlie: Who’s Meg and what does she know?

Dean: It’s me, Char.

Charlie: Middle name?

Dean: Celeste. Meg’s the one who found the phone.

Charlie: How do you know?

Dean: She told me. That’s why I hung up, she came up to see me.

Charlie: Why would she tell you?

Dean: She heard me talking. Told her I was reciting my mantra, called me out on it. Said she knew about the phone.

Charlie: That’s it? You didn’t try any harder?

Dean: Tried to tell her I listen to music on it, but she didn’t believe me. Kinda guessed I was here for Anna and wants to help.

Charlie: She’s a civilian.

Dean: I know, but she’s lived here for 4 years. Maybe she knew that Flagstaff girl.

Charlie: So what? Wanna give her a badge and a gun?

Dean: Of course not.

Charlie: Who says she’s not telling Novak right now?

Dean: Told her I could have her removed if she talked.

Charlie: We can’t really do that.

Dean: You know we could if we really wanted to. She won’t talk.

Charlie: I hope so, for your sake. What’s next?

Dean: I don’t know. You gonna tell Bobby?

Charlie: You know I have to.

Dean: I know. But could you wait a bit? Like gimme a couple of days? Just in case he decides to pull the plug.

Charlie: You can’t ask me that.

Dean: I just did. Please?

Charlie: What do you think you’ll find in the next couple of days that you didn’t before?

Dean: It’s the fair this weekend. Meg’s going with Cas and I’ll make sure to go too.

Charlie: After what happened, you think he’ll bring you along?

Dean: I’ll make sure he does, have Meg help me out. Just need until Monday morning, okay?

Charlie: If I get suspended over this, I’ll kill you. Then I’ll revive you and kill you some more.

Dean: Everything’s gonna be fine, I swear. Text you Sunday night, okay?

Charlie: Before that if you can do it, just so I know you’re alive. About Novak, you’re okay, right?

Dean: The Meg thing kinda helped shift my focus back in place.

Charlie: Good. You shouldn’t worry so much anyway. Who cares if you crave the dick?

Dean: I don’t crave the dick.

Charlie: Okay, not all dicks. Only Novak’s. I’ll be here to chat whenever you’re ready to stop lying to yourself.

Dean: Don’t hold your breath, Char. Over and out!

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Walking back downstairs takes a bit of time for Dean. Too much stuff has gone wrong in the last day in a half for him to be his usual assertive self. So he does a bit of that thing Meg didn’t believe he could do; he sits on the bed with his eyes closed to do some deep breathing exercises.

She had been right in thinking he doesn’t meditate per se, but he does need to take some time to center himself. He can’t ignore all that’s happened, but he can’t let it ruin this investigation either. Maybe he should have insisted to not be the one to do this. Doesn’t matter that it looked kind of easy on paper, it has now proven to be one of the most difficult jobs he’s ever been on.

All because of James fucking Novak.

Dean bristles at the thought, groaning before going back to try and breathe deeply. Except now that his brain has swerved into a Castiel-related pool of thoughts, all Dean can think of is that pair of deep blue eyes. Deep both in color and soul, as far as Dean is concerned. It takes him a bit of time, but Dean is eventually able to stifle the warmth coursing through his body at the very thought of him.

Get a grip, man. This guy’s manipulating you, you can’t let him do this. You’re a fucking professional. He’s the mark, you’re the one in control. Act like it.

Reciting this for a little while in his own mind certainly could count as some sort of mantra. And it does work because when he marches downstairs, it’s with a renewed sense of purpose. His back still hurts and it causes him to walk funny, but his mental state is the stealthiest it’s been in days.

“Where’s everyone?” he asks when he sees Hannah sitting alone in the main room. “I thought I heard people talking.”

Without looking up from her book, she points at the windows. “The rain stopped, most have gone back outside. I think…”

Dean hums. “How about Cas? Did he go back to the hives?”

This time, Hannah looks up, a cheeky smile on her lips. “Nah… too wet still. Why?”

“Got a question for him,” he says with a shrug. Could Castiel have told her what happened?

“I don’t really know where he’s gone. Could be in the barn. Gabriel still needs to prepare goods for the fair.”

“I’ll check, thanks.”

Dean decides to go outside through the kitchen. Which is how he finds Chuck seated at the table and drinking coffee. “Hey, Chuck.”

“Hi, Dean,” the author responds without much hesitation. Dean can’t hold the pleased smile that spreads along his lips; they seem to have gotten to a more comfortable place, finally.

“How are you doing?”

“I’m good, Chuck. You?”

“I’m well. I was mostly asking because… you know… the accident. You’re lucky to be alive.”

“So I’m told,” Dean agrees as he grabs a cup from the cabinet. He pours himself some coffee and comes to stand near the table. He squints at everything that’s spread out on it; paring knives, cookie sheets, rolls of parchment paper, and a box of popsicle sticks. “What’s all that crap for?”

And maybe he could have phrased his question another way because now Chuck looks nervous again.

“I—Gabriel is—I’m helping Gabriel—he’s—”

“Sorry, Chuck… was just a question. Curious is all,” Dean says, taking a couple of steps back. “I don’t need to know.” At least, that seems to be making Chuck feel a bit better, because he starts explaining explaining.

Anyway, that must be what he’s saying except Dean doesn’t really listen to him, a movement toward the barn having caught his attention. Castiel is walking out of it, followed by both Meg and Gabriel. They’re each holding a bushel of apples and are coming back to the house. For half a second, Dean wants to run away again.

Cas is the mark. You’re the pro. Act like it.

With the man in his sight, the pseudo mantra sounds ridiculous and is mostly ineffective. He’s kind of frozen in place, until he realizes they might have trouble opening the door and he goes to open it for them.

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel says as he walks in, followed by the other two. They drop the bushels on the island while Dean goes to sit across from Chuck.

The others start working around the kitchen in what looks like a well practiced routine, ignoring them. Until Gabriel turns to Dean after taking a huge stainless steel cooking pot out of one of the lower cabinets.

“Are you here to help?” he asks.

“Help with what?”

“Gabriel, I think Dean should take it easy right now,” Castiel says, ignoring Dean’s question.

Gabriel points his chin at Dean. “He can prep the apples or do the dipping sitting down, can’t he? That’s how Chuck does it.”

“Sitting isn’t much better when your back hurts, Gabriel. I really think—”

“I’ll do whatever, Gabe… what do you need?” Dean says, making sure he keeps his gaze on Gabriel. Hell if he’s about to let Castiel decide what he can and cannot do.

“We need popsicle sticks shoved in the apples. And then they’ll need to be dipped in candy. Think you can muster that?”

“Sounds easy enough.”

It’s all it takes for Castiel’s opinion on the matter to be shot down, to Dean’s uttermost satisfaction. When Dean can’t help send a smug look to the man, the arched eyebrow he gets back is enough to want him to run away again. It also gives him other ideas – ideas he’s not about to acknowledge right now… or ever.

“So… hmm… I mean… how do we do this?” Dean says, averting his eyes. It’s Meg who answers this time.

“You and Chuck sit your pretty asses over there while I go and rinse out the apples. When that’s done, you guys will dry them and Chuck will show you how to put the popsicle sticks in through the core. Real easy, even you can do this, I’m sure.”

At least, Meg’s derisive tone is helping in making the atmosphere somewhat tolerable for Dean. And getting to explain to Dean how to do something seems to be doing good in getting Chuck back into his earlier comfort. The both of them prepping the apples soon turns into a friendly competition and, clearly, Chuck’s experience is enough to get him to be crowned the popsicle stick master.

“That’s a ridiculous title,” the author says, half giggling. “I better find a better one soon, otherwise—”

“Nah, man! Don’t care how you decide to call it, from now on you’re the popsicle stick master to me,” Gabriel says from his place next to the stove as he keeps an eye on his honey concoction. He dips a candy thermometer in the large pot and hums before putting it aside to stir some more.

Instead of going all shy and shifty, like he usually does, Chuck lets his laughter escalade. Dean smiles, glad to see the guy relaxed.

“How much time, Gabe?” Meg asks as she comes to sit next to Chuck.

“Soon… stop distracting me!” As he speaks, Gabriel makes sure to wink and smile at Meg.

Castiel too comes to sit at the table, next to Dean. Nobody says a word, until Dean decides it’s now or never. He turns to Castiel, hoping the incident from earlier has been forgotten. Or that it will at least be ignored.

“So those are for the fair, right? You’re going tomorrow?”

“Indeed. Meg and I are leaving early morning and will be spending the weekend in Barre.”

“Could I go with you guys? I mean… I haven’t been to a fair in years.”

Castiel’s eyebrows scrunch up together at the request. “Why? I mean, it’s a market fair, Dean. I’m afraid you’ll find it all very boring.”

“Because she doesn’t?” Dean counters, pointing at Meg who just squints back at him.

“I don’t,” she confirms when Castiel seems to be wondering now. “And there’s no way he could handle the booth alone for three days.” She gives Dean a quick glance and a wink before looking back at Castiel. “But if Dean wants to come… an extra pair of hands isn’t such a bad idea, is it?”

“I agree, it could help, but where’s he going to sleep?”

“With us, of course. You got a room with two beds, didn’t you?”

“Of course, I did. You know I always do.”

“I’ll share with Meg! I’m gay!” Dean blurts out, feeling his face warm up as he does.

The look on Meg’s face is a worrying one; it’s both shocked and amused. Dean can breathe again when she looks back at Castiel and shrugs. “See? The boy’s gay… I don’t mind sharing with him.”

When Castiel turns to Dean, he looks worried. Dean’s windpipes seem to be compromised again.

“I really think you should stay here. We’ll spend three days standing or sitting, for twelve hours straight. This could very well ruin your spine, Dean.”

“My spine’s already ruined… plus, I got meds. I’ll be good.”

“See? That’s what I mean. If you need medication to function, then you’re not doing okay. Coming with us could—”

“Careful!” Gabriel warns as he puts the pot on the table, effectively cutting Castiel off. “You guys can start dipping the apples in about five minutes,” he instructs as he starts stirring. He keeps his eyes on the mixture when he speaks again. “You should let the guy go with you, Cas. If it starts hurting too bad, he can always go back to the motel. Or take a nap in the van. What do you have to lose?”

Just like that, three expecting gazes land on Castiel, then on Dean, then on Castiel again. Castiel ignores all of them, his own gaze never leaving Dean’s. Until he sighs and shakes his head in obvious defeat.

“Oh, all right… you can come with us.” He leans in, if only a little, and points a finger at his face. “But you have to promise me that you will listen to your body. When it tells you you’ve had enough and need to lie down, then you’ll go and do that. Am I making myself clear?”

Stupid lumpy throat , Dean thinks. He swallows before responding, his own eyes never looking away. “Sir, yes, sir!” he says, which grants him with a huff and an arched eyebrow.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Dean may usually be an early riser, he’s still sleeping when Meg knocks on his door at five the next morning.

“Rise and shine, Dean-o,” she says, flicking on the lights as she walks in. She yanks the covers off of Dean’s body, throwing them to the floor.

“Could’a been naked ‘der here,” Dean mumbles, his eyes scrunched close.

“Gotta admit, I kinda hoped you were.” Meg chuckles while Dean groans. “Come on, we’re leaving in an hour.”

“Coffee?”

“What am I? Your maid? Gotta get downstairs if you want some. Up and at ‘em!”

Meg leaves the room as suddenly as she came in, to Dean’s relief. He keeps his eyes closed, needing to take a minute to evaluate the degree of pain he’s in this morning. It still hurts like a son of a bitch, but he’s kind of getting used to it. Still, he plops a couple of pills in his mouth and waits for them to start taking effect before even trying to get up.

It’s been about half an hour after Meg came to wake him that Castiel shows up. Although the door is wide open, Castiel only leans in the frame and knocks a couple of times on the wood.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“I wasn’t feeling all that bad when I woke up. I think the massage really helped, so thanks for that.”

“My pleasure.” Unlike his usual self, Castiel keeps his eyes to the floor. “I only wanted to see if… you know it’s okay if you’d rather stay here, right? We’ll be okay if—”

Feeling bold, Dean comes to stand in front of Castiel, his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m starting to think you don’t want me there. Kinda taking it personal, I won’t lie.”

“You are misunderstanding me. All I’m saying is—”

“I’m an adult, Cas. I know what I can and cannot do. Right now, I can’t work on the barn. ‘Cause of my back. I can’t really do hard work, also ‘cause of my back. Sitting around and selling stuff to folks, that’s something I can do. I’m paying my dues, man.”

“There are no dues to be paid.”

Dean takes another step forward. He doesn’t show his satisfaction when he sees Castiel’s Adam’s apple bob up and down. Yeah, that’s right… I’m the one in control here.

“I want to do this. And if it becomes too much, I’ll let you tell me that you were right. I won’t even try to deny it.” Dean takes a couple of steps back and extends a hand, smirking. “Deal?”

“You’re insufferable,” Castiel says under his breath, rolling his eyes. He still grabs Dean’s hand and gives it a strong shake. Except he doesn’t let go and instead pulls Dean back closer, making sure their eyes meet. “You should know that if I’m right, I don’t intend on saying that I told you so.”

Castiel’s tone and demeanor are, once more, enough to unsettle Dean.

“If – and what I really mean is when – I turn out to be right, you better believe me when I say that I will find a more efficient way to remind you how wrong you were.”

Shit.

“What? You gonna kick me out? Put me on potato peeling duty? Have me clean the latrines with my own toothbrush?”

When Castiel laughs, Dean is startled. He hadn’t really meant to be funny, half believing Castiel could decide to punish him for being insolent or whatever.

“Is that what you think of me? Do I come off as some army general to you?”

“No… I mean… you go all stormy and shit, and then you say weird stuff about punishing me and—”

This guy’s eyebrow game is strong , Dean thinks when Castiel pulls him even closer into his personal space. “I never said I’d punish you, Dean. You came up with that all on your own.” Castiel takes a step back and lets his hand go.

“Can’t say I don’t find this intriguing, though.”

Dean’s mouth is dry and any illusion of control he could have had has gone out the window. Just like that, Castiel is back on top. He feels his cheeks redden and his dick stir at the images that particular realization brings up.

Dean’s arms move to his sides and his gaze falls to the floor. He isn’t so sure he wants to go to Barre anymore. He’s thinking it’d be safer for him to put as much distance as he can between him and Castiel. He only notices he’s been clenching his fists when his nails start digging into his palms.

“Are you okay?”

Dean’s eyes fly back up to see Castiel looking at him with concern, both eyebrows scrunched together.

“Huh?”

“You’re not looking so good. Do you need to sit?”

Dean takes another step backward, Castiel’s movement to put a hand on his arm quickly aborting. He clears his throat. “Nah, I’m good… I just…”

Think, Winchester! Think!

“Guess my mind went to a dark place and shit. Got punished a lot as a kid and—”

The words have fallen from Dean’s mouth before he could stop them. Dean’s Winchester’s mouth, not Dean Smith’s. He may have forgiven the shortcomings of his father a long time ago, but he certainly hasn’t forgotten anything, no matter how good he’s gotten at ignore it all.

When Castiel crowds his space this time, it’s to engulf him in a comforting hug. “Oh my god, Dean, I’m so sorry. I thought—I thought we were just having a bit of fun. I didn’t mean to stir up painful things from your past.”

When he speaks, Castiel’s lips sometimes brush the skin of Dean’s neck, making it pebble with goosebumps. And however tempted he was to distance himself from Castiel only a second ago, Dean now can’t bring himself to let go. It’s Castiel who puts an end to the embrace several minutes later. He cradles Dean’s face with both hands, forcing their eyes to meet again.

“I will never say anything like that ever again. I hope that in time, you can forgive me.”

“Nothin’ to forgive,” Dean says in a low voice, hoping he could just look away already. He tries, but Castiel doesn’t let him do it, chasing his gaze wherever it goes and holding onto it.

“I need you to feel safe here, Dean. Your past abuse is not something to be trivialized or dismissed. This being said, you don’t have to forgive me. I only hope that you will someday.”

The lump is back in Dean’s throat and his eyes are stinging again.

Fuck this guy!

“Told you, we’re good, Cas. Let it go, all right?” He forces a smile on his lips, eager for them to just leave already.

“I will… for now,” Castiel promises. He leans up to kiss Dean on the cheek. “And remember; if you ever need to talk, I’m here for you.”

Castiel lets him go to walk out of the room. “We leave in fifteen minutes,” he throws over his shoulder before disappearing in the hall.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Castiel, Dean, and Meg don’t speak much on the way to Barre. It’s not silent either inside the cab, thanks to the radio being on. Castiel has put on a popular station, the kind with more ads than music, and Dean hates it. Still, he doesn’t say a word because Castiel is the one driving; it’s a non-written Winchester law that the driver picks the music and shotgun shuts his cakehole.

Well… technically, he’s not shotgun because it’s Meg that’s sitting in the front with Cas. The good news is he doesn’t have to endure the pop crap for very long. They reach the site of the fair after a mere thirty minute drive, where there’s already a good number of cars and vans waiting in line to be let in.

“What’s taking so long?” Dean asks after a mere five minutes of waiting.

Castiel looks at him through the rearview mirror as he speaks. “We have to wait to be given our lot number for the weekend.”

“Don’t you have a permanent spot?”

“I could, but it’s really expensive. I do pay an annual fee so I can get a nice enough lot, though… not too far from the permanent booths.”

Dean nods, thinking it kinda makes sense.

“And… well… why do you stay over? It’s not that far out, is it?”

“I hate driving, being on the road. I’d rather not have to do it too much,” is all Castiel answers, his tone rough enough that Dean doesn’t insist. Knowing how Castiel’s wife and kid have died is enough for Dean to guess it has to be a touchy subject.

It takes about another half hour to be given their lot number and park behind it. After about an hour, they have installed the tables under a red pop-up canopy and are finishing up on the display of merchandise. Once done, it actually looks nice, a tarp they hung in the back adorned with a painting of Paradysum.

“Wow… did you draw that?” Deans asks Meg who laughs at him in response.

“I got many talents, but painting’s not one of them. It’s a guy that lived with us one summer, Piero. Italian, smoldering, immensely talented… in many ways, if you get my drift.” The light in Meg’s eyes is an unmistakable one.

“Thought you were into girls,” Dean says as he unfolds the last of the garden chairs.

“That’s one thing I’m into… didn’t we have this conversation already?”

Looking around to see Castiel having crossed the pathway to chat with another booth holder, Dean gets closer to Meg. “That guy, Piero. Was that his real name or…?”

She shrugs, rearranging the merchandise on the table to her liking. “I think so. He spent a summer with us before going back home.” She turns to him. “That was four years ago, I had just gotten here.”

With Castiel still too far to hear them, Dean feels bold. “Speaking of four years ago… did you know a girl named Flagstaff?”

“Well… not really, no. I heard of her. She died of—hey! Wait a minute!”

Dean swallows, making sure to keep his eyes on Castiel.

“That’s really why you’re here, isn’t it? Anna’s not the first one?”

“We don’t know that, Meg. It could just be a coincidence.”

“Yeah, right! Apart from Cas and Hannah, nobody was there when Flagstaff was. Oh, and Gabe too. If there’s a serial k—”

“Shut up,” Dean hisses when he sees Castiel walking back toward them. She complies, putting the finishing touches to the display.

“Looks great, Meg,” Castiel says when he comes inside the booth, giving her a shoulder squeeze. “I’ll set up the generator. How about some coffee?” he asks, getting a resounding yes from both Dean and Meg.

Dean can’t help being impressed by Castiel’s green dedication when he sees him take the solar powered generator out of the van. After starting up the coffee urn, Castiel goes to park in their reserved spot, coming back to the stand about ten minutes later.

“Dig in,” he says as he sets a box of doughnuts on the small table. “First batch… they’re still warm.”

Castiel isn’t even done speaking that Meg already has taken one and bit into it. She moans, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. “Man, these things are like pure crack! I can never get enough.”

Both men chuckle as they take a seat on either side of her, each with a pastry in hand. Dean looks around while they munch on breakfast and wait for the coffee to be done percolating; booths pop-up around them in an steadily increasing pace. Some of those who are done stroll around, waiting for the clients to start swarming the market fair.

Unlike what Dean witnessed in Montpelier, people here don’t seem too bothered by Castiel’s presence. It’s not like Barre is that far, they should have heard about Paradysum’s many reputations. Yet, people that walk by go out of their way to come and say hi, shake hands, and even inquire how things are.

Still sat next to Meg, Dean leans a bit toward her. “Gabriel told me how people are in Montpelier with you guys… kinda saw a bit of it myself. Why don’t you come sell your stuff here every week instead?”

She gives him a knowing smile. “Don’t think Clarence would appreciate such a long ride. He’s getting old, you know.”

“Come on… you guys have a van and—”

“What about the van?” Castiel says as he sits back down next to Meg.

“Dean was wondering why we bother going to Montpelier to sell our stuff. Told him here was too far for Clarence. That’s how the topic of the van came up.”

“Why wouldn’t we go to Montpelier?” Castiel asks, his confusion looking genuine enough.

Dean glances at Meg who’s smirking at him, as if daring him to speak. He huffs and looks back at Castiel. “From what Gabe told me, the people in Montpelier don’t like you all that much. They have all sorts of opinions on you guys.”

“They do… and?”

“Don’t you mind? Maybe Jo’s not selling all the honey because it comes from you.”

“That’s a definite possibility, yes.”

“Castiel doesn’t care much about money, Dean,” Meg says as she gets up. She pulls three tin mugs from a bag to fill them with coffee. “He cares even less about his reputation.”

Dean nods his thanks when Meg gives him a mug. She only has time to also give Castiel his own before three people come to stand in front of their booth. Meg leaves her mug next to the urn in favor of greeting them.

“Hey, Alicia,” she says, already with a paper bag in hand. “Max, Tasha… how are you all doing?”

The older woman, the mother most probably, gives Meg a wide smile. “Affairs are booming,” she says, wrapping an arm around her daughter’s shoulder. “The twins started up a Youtube channel and they’ve exploded. Think we’ll be working a whole lot this weekend.”

While Alicia speaks, Dean notices her son looking intently at him. When he catches Dean looking back at him, Max winks, the meaning behind his smile not a subtle one. Dean gives him a polite smile and a slight nod before looking away, hoping the message is clear enough. Apparently not.

“Who’s the new guy? He’s gorgeous,” Max says, his eyes never leaving Dean. Meg turns to him, beaming.

“Isn’t he? His name’s Dean. Come say hello, Dean-o.”

With a groan, Dean gets up to stand next to her. “Dean, this is Alicia Banes and her kids, Max and Tasha. They’re witches,” she adds, making sure to look Dean in the eye as she does.

Witches… really?

“We prefer the term Wiccan,” Alicia provides with a smile.

Dean doesn’t bat an eye as he shakes hands with her. “Nice to meet you, Alicia. D’you have a booth here?”

“We do, just a little further down that way.”

“So what? You sell spells and shit?”

“And shit,” Max supplies, a wide grin on his face. “You should come take a look sometime this weekend.”

“Leave him alone, Max,” Tasha says, elbowing her brother. “You’re scaring him.”

“Am not, am I?” Max counters, winking at Dean again.

“The Banes family! It’s such a joy to see you all,” Castiel says as he comes to stand a little too close to Dean. “Alicia, I have to say, you were right about that thing we talked about last spring. Did the ritual you suggested and it worked. The apple trees flourished, and a bit early, too.”

Thanks to Castiel and Alicia now dominating the conversation, Dean can sit back down while Meg prepares the Banes’ order of candied apples, honey, and goat milk soaps. They don’t stay much longer, the market right about to open to the public. And once it does, they don’t get much downtime, clients strolling through their booth at a steady pace.

It’s about an hour before lunch when Castiel tells them he wants to go take a look at Donatello’s refurbished bicycles. He then takes their lunch order, promising Dean the cheeseburgers at the diner on site are to die for. Mostly, this means Dean and Meg are left alone and there’s no better time for Dean to start asking questions.

“So, Meg… you offered to help, right?”

Handing out some change to a woman who bought a bag of honey toffee, Meg waits for her to be gone. “I did. What do you wanna know?”

“I think we’d know if that were the case, but… is there anyone who lived at Paradysum who left and still lives around? Like here in Barre, or another town close by?”

“I don’t think so, no. I mean, if they did, we’d still see them sometimes, I guess.”

“I thought as much. Unless they were kicked out?”

Meg shakes her head, chuckling. “Did you meet Cas? Dude, someone could go and stab him in the fucking heart that they wouldn’t get kicked out.”

Dean groans, brushing a hand over his face. “See, it’s that kind of nonsense that makes folks in town think you’re a sect or something. Come on, Meg… you can’t say shit like that and not know you sound like a crazy person, do you?”

She shrugs. “What I mean is that he believes there’s good in everybody. He’s helped so many people, and he’s never asked for anything in return. If that’s not being some kind of saint—”

“So, nobody could have a grudge against the guy.”

“I don’t see why they would, no. His brother maybe, but he’s an entitled asshole.”

“Hmm, yeah, I read about him… Michael Novak.”

“Of course, you’d know. I never met him and I don’t think they speak at all. I just know about him because Hannah told me. Guess you also know she’s Castiel’s cousin, then?”

“Yup.”

“Man, that’s creepy as hell. You know everything about us and I know close to nothing about you. Well… I really don’t know anything, do I? You’ve been playing a part this whole time.”

“You know my name.”

“Parts of it, or so you say.” She leans forward in her chair. “Are you even gay or did you just say that so you could get me into bed?”

“M’not really gay, but it has nothing to do with you. If you’re uncomfort—”

“Are you playing gay to get to Cas?”

Kinda…

“What? No… I mean… I said I’d share your bed, didn’t I?”

As she speaks, Meg keeps an eye on the people browsing through their merchandise. “Cas clearly has a thing for you, I won’t believe you if you try to say you didn’t notice.” She glances back at him, her eyes dark on him. “Whatever you’re about to do to him, don’t. He doesn’t deserve to have his heart broken over whatever shit’s happening, you hear? He’s been through enough already.”

“It’s not like that. I mean… I told you I’m not gay so there’s no chance of anything happening, is there?”

“I’m an actress, Dean. You know I’m not really a Hell princess, right?”

“I know, but—”

“But nothing… you went through Golem to get to us, and I know how this guy works. You’re not the first of his lovers he sends our way.”

“Yeah, we got close, just not—not all the way close.”

“Which means you’re even more dangerous than I thought.” She gets off her chair and comes to stand between Dean’s spreaded knees, if only to stare him down. “I don’t care who or what you are, but if you hurt Castiel, I’ll kill you. This guy’s a fucking unicorn and he’s the reason I’m still alive… I’ll gladly die before I let anyone hurt him.”

Meg may be small, she can still be pretty menacing. Just not menacing enough for Dean to really fear for his life. He gives her a smirk that’s pretty similar to her own signature one. “Did you just threaten me? You know what I do, don’t you?”

“Do I look like I care?”

Dean doesn’t have time to respond, Meg leaving his personal space to see a client who just signaled he’s ready to pay. Trying to get some information from Meg hasn’t gone the way he’d planned and Dean is relieved that enough people come by their stand to keep them occupied. He’s in no rush to resume that particular conversation.

When Castiel comes back with lunch, he insists that Dean and Meg sit down to eat while he tends to the clientele. They comply without a word, Meg sending Dean the occasional warning glare as she munches on her cheeseburger and fries.

It’s close to two in the afternoon when Dean’s back starts hurting like hell. He forgot to take his pills earlier and he’s being reminded about them fiercely. Castiel had been right to say spending hours sitting down wouldn’t be helping. He winces as he gets to his feet and downs his usual two caplets dry. The next second, Castiel is crowding Dean’s space, a hand wrapped around his bicep.

“Are you all right?”

“Forgot to take my meds at lunch. I’ll be okay.” Meg glaring at them is enough to make Dean take a step back. “I think I’ll go take a walk. It kinda helps to be upright.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Dean shakes his head. “Thanks, but I don’t think Meg should be left alone, there’s more and more people.”

“He’s right,” Meg provides.

“You won’t go too far, then?” Castiel asks, making Meg huff.

“He’s a big boy, Cas. He doesn’t need to be coddled.”

“I’ll be okay,” Dean says, smiling. “Don’t worry about me, okay?”

Even though Castiel nods in approval, the smile on his face looks forced. Dean decides to ignore that and leaves the booth. His gait is pretty stiff at first, but the more he walks, the better it gets. No doubt the medicine is helping, but mostly sitting around hasn’t been good. Somehow, he doesn’t think he should ever tell Castiel that.

He’s so busy replaying the conversation with Meg in his mind that he gets startled when arms wrap around him from behind. He quickly evades them and turns around, ready to attack.

“Whoa, Dean… it’s just me!”

Dean lets out a relieved breath when he sees Donna, her own hands up in a defensive move. “Shit, sorry, Donna! You scared me.”

“Guess you really didn’t hear me calling your name, then. And, well, you kinda deserve it, dontcha know!” she adds before coming to hug him again. “I almost went into labor ’cause of you.” She’s smiling when she lets him go. “How are you feelin’?”

“The accident woke up some old back pains, but other than that, I’m good.” He looks around, then wraps an arm around Donna’s shoulders. “You’re not here alone, are you?”

“Ya betcha. Jods is meeting me later.”

“What if you go into labor?”

Donna chuckles, shaking her head. “Believe me, I’d love that. We may be ten days before due date, I’m ready for that lil’ devil to just come out already.”

“Pretty sure you made it real comfortable in there for him, he’d rather stay put.”

“If he doesn’t come out soon, I’ll go and get him out myself.”

They walk around for a bit, browsing through the various stands. They stop at one selling juices and snacks, Donna insisting to buy him something. A couple of minutes later, they’re walking back toward Castiel’s booth, each with the sweetest smoothie they could get.

“I guess I should tell you that Meg knows.”

“Meg knows what?”

“Who I am and what I’m doing here.”

It’s enough for Donna to have them both stop walking, people cursing as they bump into them. “What?”

Worried by the fact that Donna is getting bumped in repeatedly, Dean guides her to the side to stand between two booths. “She found my phone. And she kinda guessed why I’m here.”

“That’s not good, Dean.”

“Don’t worry, I made sure she wouldn’t talk.”

“You told anyone else about this?”

“My partner, Charlie.”

“She told Bobby Singer?”

“Asked Char to wait until Monday. That’s why I came to the fair, kinda wanted to keep an eye on Cas.”

Donna lets out a thoughtful hum as she sips on her drink. “I hope you’re not expecting me not to tell Jody. Because I will. We don’t keep things from each other.”

“I thought you’d say that. You think you can convince her not to tell Bobby? Not until Monday, anyway.”

“Can’t promise anything, but I’ll do my best.” Donna starts walking again, leaving Dean to follow after her. “Why didn’t you stay at the house? Don’t you still have to check out Castiel’s side? If he’s spending the weekend here, it’d be easier, wouldn’t it?”

“I kinda saw a bit of it already. Don’t think there’s anything of interest there.”

“Let me guess… you’re stumped?”

Dean sighs, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. “Yeah, kinda… not saying Jody was wrong about Anna, but I really don’t think it’s anyone at the house.” This time it’s Dean who stops walking, making sure his body’s the one to be bumped into rather than hers, back pains be damned. “I’d like to talk to that Milligan kid.”

“Jody already interrogated him, Dean. Told you he has an alibi.”

“He was her boyfriend, Donna. If it’s not Castiel and his friends, if it’s not the boyfriend, and if it’s not the McLeods, then it’s someone else who dumped her body. We gotta ask Adam if Anna had other friends we don’t know about.”

“Look, I’m meeting Jods at the diner at five, we’re having an early dinner before going to the movies. Why don’t you come and ask her? See what can be done.”

Dean smiles, giving her a short hug. “Thanks, Donna… I’ll be there.”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Seeing Meg alone when he comes back to the booth makes Dean breathe with ease. He has to find a reason to ditch her and Cas around five to meet Donna and Jody at the diner. It’ll be much easier if she helps him.

“Where’s Cas?”

“I think he went looking for you,” Meg says, her tone a bit on the cold side. “Said he needed to see someone about something, but he can’t fool me.” She squints at him. “M’starting to think he’s got it real bad, dude. You better do something about this.”

“Told you, I’m not into guys, I’m not gonna—”

“Not that, you morron! Make sure he knows you’re not interested, and soon. Before he falls in love with your stupid ass.”

Dean gives her a pensive nod. Love; that’s one thing he hadn’t thought could happen. He shakes his head, dismissing the idea. “He’s not gonna fall in love with me, Meg. In lust, maybe… I mean, you’ve seen me, right?”

The glare Dean gets back is enough for the chuckles to die in his throat. Maybe now isn’t the time to try and be funny.

“Only kidding, Meg. Don’t worry, all right? I won’t go near your unicorn or whatever.” She huffs, but still nods, apparently satisfied. “Could I ask you something, though? I need to disappear for a bit.”

“Where to?”

“Meeting Donna and Jody at the diner around five.”

“You could tell Cas you’re taking a nap in the van.”

“That’s kind of the plan, except I need you to make sure he doesn’t come looking for me this time.”

Meg gets up to take care of a client, then comes back. “The market closes at seven and Cas will go get the van around seven fifteen to load everything back in. If you’re there by then, he’ll be none the wiser. Pretty sure he won’t go looking for you if he knows where you are.”

“Wait… you’re dismantling the stand? Why?”

“What do you think would happen if we left this here overnight? Our stuff would get stolen or broken… only the permanent booths stay because they can be secured.”

Dean wants to laugh at that, seeing how Raphaelle told him that nobody locked their doors and shit, but he decides against it. Meg really seems to have a bug up her ass right now and he knows it wouldn’t be in his advantage to rile her up. So he just nods, getting up to help out a woman wanting to buy some honey.

They don’t speak again, at least not about anything other than merchandise, until Castiel comes back. When the man doesn’t seem either relieved or surprised to see him back under the canopy, Dean is tempted to give Meg a smug look. Once more, he chooses not to and looks at his watch to see it’s already four thirty.

“Say, Cas… you think I could go take a nap in the van?” Dean asks as he comes to stand next to him.

Castiel smiles. “Of course, Dean. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go back to the motel? I can give you some money for a cab.”

Dean shakes his head. “Nah, thanks… just taking a load off for a couple of hours should help a whole lot. Meg tells me you go get the van a bit after seven usually? I could bring it around, you know… I mean, I’ll have the keys anyway.”

Castiel nods, a pensive look on his face. “You have a driver’s licence?”

There’s no way Dean Smith could have one of those. He lets a bit of heat bloom in his cheeks as he responds. “Well… no, not really, but I still know how to. And it’s not far, is it?”

“It’s not, but I’d rather not take any chances.” Castiel hands his keys to Dean. “Go get some sleep and don’t worry about us, all right? I’ll come get the van later and then we can all go have some dinner.”

Dean takes the keys and nods before leaving the booth behind, walking toward the parking lot. Luckily, the diner is also that way so it’s not much of a detour. It’s ten minutes before five when Dean enters the restaurant, Donna already sitting in a booth in the back of the restaurant with a strawberry milkshake in front of her.

“Hi Dean,” she says, twirling her straw around in the tall glass. “You’re right on time, Jods will be here soon, she just texted me.” She pats the table top and waits for him to be sitting down before speaking again. “What did you tell your friends?”

“Told Cas I wanted to take a nap in the van. Meg knows I’m meeting you.”

Donna clucks her tongue and shakes her head. “You told her we knew?”

“She guessed,” Dean complies with a shrug. “And I kinda asked her to make sure Cas wouldn’t come looking for me. If I decided to shut her out—”

“She’d probably talk, ya betcha… still, don’t tell her everything, yeah?”

“I know, Donna, don’t worry. Not my first rodeo.”

“So you’ve been discovered before?”

And although her tone sounds innocent enough, Dean still can see how unhappy Donna is about that whole situation. Instead of answering, Dean chooses to shrug once more and hides behind the menu. Not that he’ll be ordering anything, especially if he’s supposed to be having dinner with Cas and Meg later, but it does provide a nice barrier between him and the captain.

He comes out of hiding when Jody joins them a couple of minutes later. She goes to sit next to Donna and kisses her cheek before stealing a sip of her milkshake. She then looks at Dean and nods, not looking all too happy. “Hey, Dean. Donna had interesting things to tell me earlier.”

“Yeah… stuff’s been happening.”

“I’ll say.” She looks around, making sure nobody’s paying attention to them. When she speaks, it’s almost in a hush. “You should leave before this all goes to the crapper. Can’t believe you won’t even tell Bobby what happened.”

“We’re telling him Monday, Jody… I just need a couple of days.”

“A couple of days for what? You said so yourself, you don’t think anyone in this place is to blame, so just leave.”

“We still don’t know what happened to Anna. Don’t you wanna find out?”

“Of course I do,” Jody says, then sighs. “Look, all we needed was for someone to infiltrate Paradysum… you’ve done that and came up with nothing. We can take over from now on and those other guys can go back to investigating their drug thing or whatever, if they really have to.”

Dean rolls his eyes; he’s never abandoned an investigation, and he’s not about to start now. Doesn’t matter that only yesterday he told Charlie he didn’t want to do this anymore.

“What about that Flagstaff chick?”

“There’s not enough meat on that bone, you know this as well as I do.”

“You were the one to bring this to us, Sheriff.”

“I know.” Jody pinches her lips. “I was wrong, all right?”

If the waitress hadn’t come to take their order at that moment, Dean would have had something harsh to answer Jody. Thankfully, the distraction gives him the chance to think about what to say next without angering her. If he wants to see this through, he needs her and Donna in his corner.

“Look, I don’t think you were that wrong,” he says when the waitress has left.

“What makes you say that?”

“It’s gonna sound lame, but my guts are telling me that something’s not right.”

“And what exactly are your guts telling you?”

Dean leans back and shrugs. “I don’t know yet. I know something’s wrong, I just don’t know what.”

“At the house?”

“Can’t say for sure. I mean, the people there are nice enough, I think. Castiel is peculiar, but I don’t think—”

“Move over!”

Meg’s voice next to them is enough for Dean’s words to die on his tongue.

“Meg? What—where’s Cas?” he asks as he moves sideways before she gets to sit on his lap.

“He’s at the stand, told him I had to pee.” She looks at Jody and Donna, smiling. “Heya, Sheriff. Captain. You know I know, right?”

They both give her a silent nod.

“Cool… I don’t have much time, but I just thought of something. Sheriff, do you remember what happened a couple of years ago?”

Jody squints and shakes her head. “Lots of things happened in the last couple of years, Meg. You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Can’t believe I didn’t think of it before now, but… remember that fire at Harvelle’s ?”

“Of course, I do. You guys were there. You, and Castiel, and everyone else…”

“We were. We had decided to throw Cas a birthday party. Do you remember the cause of the fire?”

“I believe it was arson. Never found the culprit.”

With a satisfied smirk on her face, Meg turns to Dean. “I think somebody tried to hurt Cas, and everyone else at the house.”

“Meg—”

“Think about it, man. Cas hardly ever goes anywhere, and then someone sets fire to the place he just so happens to be at? Sounds sketchy to me.”

“She’s not wrong,” Donna says before noisily sipping the last of her milkshake. “I mean… you said it, Jods. Arson.”

“How did I not know this?” Dean asks Jody, squinting at her. She apparently doesn’t like his tone because she sends him an irate look back.

“For that, you gotta ask those other friends of yours, pal. You know, the ones who omitted to include the fact that Anna worked at Witch’s Brew .”

Dean has the decency to blush a bit. “Didn’t mean anything by it. I just… we’re gonna have to talk about this. I need to know everything.”

Jody’s stance may have relaxed a bit, she still doesn’t sound too happy when she speaks. “I’ll send an electronic copy of the file to your partner tomorrow morning, Dean.” She then turns to grab Donna’s hand and smile at her. “Right now, I’d love to spend a romantic evening with my lovely wife. We might not get to have much of those in the next couple of years.” She looks back at Dean. “You get me?”

“Yeah, of course, got it. I’ll go.”

He moves sideways on the bench again, pushing Meg in the process. They both get up, but before they leave, Dean leans closer to the women.

“If I ask Charlie to come down here, do you think she could have a sit down with Adam Milligan?”

“I can do this myself, you know. Anyway, we’ve already—”

“The kid knows you… I think a stranger, one from the FBI no less, might be more effective.”

“Whatever… have her call me in the morning, see what can be done.”

“I will, thanks.”

Without another word, Dean leaves the diner, pulling Meg behind him. As they walk toward the parking lot, Dean tries to ask as much questions as he can. He doesn’t want to wait to read the report.

“Did anyone die in that fire?” is the first thing he asks.

“One…”

“Someone from Paradysum?”

“Yeah… Abner. His boyfriend too got it bad, but he survived. Cas—Cas, too… he almost died.”

“How did nobody think that was relevant.”

“You think I know? Not my job, dude… and, we don’t really like to think about that night.”

They have reached the van and even though Meg should probably be going back to help Castiel, she stops and stands there with Dean. “How could we ever think this has anything to do with Anna? I mean… shit happens, right? Well, until now I thought it’d been an accident. Wonder if Cas knows it wasn’t…”

It doesn’t matter that Dean wonders about the same things, he still has even more important questions.

“Look, I’m real sorry this happened to you, but… do you know those two guys’ real names? Anybody else who’s not at the house anymore who was there at the time?”

“Abner’s real name was Alexander… Alexander Sarver, I think. His boyfriend, Gadreel, I never knew his real name. Kinda like Hael… hey, do you know Hael’s real name?” Dean shakes his head and she shrugs. “There was also Abaddon… her real name was Josie something. Such an evil bitch, I tell you. Didn’t waste much tears on her, I won’t lie.”

“What happened to her?”

“She got burned real bad and never came back from the hospital. I mean, she went back wherever she came from, she didn’t die. I don’t think…”

“Okay… and you say Castiel almost died? Was he burned too?”

It’s Meg’s turn to shake her head. “I think so, but he never said anything about it to us… to me, anyway. What got him real bad was the smoke… he worked real hard to help everyone and he almost died because of it.” She clears her throat, trying to alleviate the trembling of her voice. “He got me and the others out, but when he went back in to get Abner and Gadreel, he was too late. Abner was gone, still he did all he could to all least get Gadreel out. The guy didn’t wanna leave Abner, you know? Him and Cas… they both collapsed before reaching the door. It’s the firemen who got them out. Just in time, too.”

“And people in town still think Cas is sketchy?”

Meg shrugs, wrapping her arms around herself. “Yeah, mostly thanks to that reverend in town that’s always had it for Cas. Reverend Boyle? Heard about him?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Dean huffs; how come there’s so much information missing?

“I guess you don’t… he’s an asshole, really. I’m sure he’s the one who started all those nasty rumors. I’m told he loves to belittle Cas in his sermons. And, well, people are sheeps, so…”

Dean nods, his back really starting to hurt now. All he can think of is sitting down. “You should go back to the stand,” he says, twirling the keys in his hand. “I think I’ll actually be taking a nap.”

“Pretty sure what’ll do is call your boss or whatever, but yeah, I’ll go.” She starts walking away. “Don’t forget! Seven fifteen, Cas is coming for the van,” she reminds him with a small wave.

Dean waves back as he unlocks the sliding door and gets in, letting out a breath of relief when he settles on the cushy seat. After spending the day on those awful camping chairs, the backseat of the van feels like a damn cloud. He closes his eyes, tempted to doze off, but he knows he better text Charlie beforehand.

He fishes his phone from the depths of his overnight bag and powers it up, then starts up the messaging app.

Dean: New infos

While he waits for Charlie to answer, Dean decides it’ll be easier to facetime her. He’s placing the call when he feels the vibration of her answer coming in. He doesn’t look to see what she said, waiting for her to answer instead.

“Man, you’re impatient. I just answered.”

Dean smiles and winks. “Not impatient, just thought it’d be easier to talk this way.”

“So, what’s up? Said you got news?”

“I do… there’s so much stuff that didn’t make it in the files, it’s ridiculous.”

“Like what?”

“Well, you know Harvelle’s Bar & Grill ?” Charlie nods and waits for him to continue. “There was a fire a couple of years ago. Castiel and his friends were there on that very night and Jody says it was arson.”

“Did they find out who did it?”

“Nope… one guy from Paradysum died, others were hurt. Cas himself almost died from smoke inhalation or something.”

“What does this have to do with your investigation?”

“What if somebody’s after Castiel?”

Charlie’s features scream confusion. “Again; what does it have to do with Anna Milton? If someone’s after Castiel, wouldn’t they just go and… get him? Think you’re overreaching a bit there, Dean.”

Dean huffs, shaking his head. “Char, what would you do if you wanted to hurt me? I mean, really, really hurt me.”

It takes a couple of seconds, but comprehension eventually dawns on her. “Sam… or the Impala.” She winks at him.

“Bingo! Sam, or Baby… what if that’s what it’s about?”

“I hear you, it’s in the realm of possibilities. But why? I mean, what made you think of this now?”

“That fire, for starters. Then, Meg tells me there’s a reverend in town that likes to say shit about Castiel and Paradysum.”

“Let me guess… Reverend Buddy Boyle?”

“Yeah… you know about him?”

“What do you think I do all day? Twiddle my thumbs? I do research, man.”

“And you didn’t tell me about him because…”

Charlie shrugs. “He does come across as kind of a lunatic, but I don’t think he’s dangerous.”

“Maybe he’s not, but someone in his flock could be.” Dean gives her a wolfish smile. “Charlie… sweetheart… what are you doin’ this weekend?”

“Nope… no way.”

“Come on, Char… I can’t go myself, you know this. And I’d like you to talk to Adam Milligan.”

“Why?”

“Got a funny feeling, is all. I’d like you to work your magic on him. See who else Anna might have been hanging out with. And then, well… you could go to one of Billy Boyle’s sermons, see for yourself the kind of crap he says about Cas. And who seems a little too much into it.”

“Don’t you think it’s weird, though? Some girl from out of town going to this random dude’s sermon?”

“You’re brilliant, you’ll find a reason to be there.”

Charlie scoffs at him, starting to type on her computer. “Yeah, yeah… you’re real smooth when you need something, don’t you.”

“You know I love ya!”

“You should, I’m adorable! Proof in the fact that I can be there around noon tomorrow. Want us to meet or…?”

“Just get to the Market Fair in Barre. Look for Castiel’s booth, lot C33. Come and buy something, I’ll let you know where to go next.”

“You know Bobby’s gonna tear us a new one over this, right?”

“I’m not wrong here, Charlie, you’ll see. Oh, and Jody’s supposed to send you the files about that fire in the morning. You’re gonna have to ask Kev to look up the people that were there. Mostly some guy who called himself Gadreel, the dead guy’s boyfriend. And some chick named Josie something. Could also be a revenge thing, you know?”

“No need to ask Kevin, I can do this.”

“Whatever you think is best. Thanks, Charlie.”

“See you tomorrow, Dean… over and out!”

“Hey! That’s my line! Over and—”

The last thing Dean sees is Charlie blowing a raspberry at him and hanging up before he has time to finish.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Rather than going to the diner to eat, Meg insists that they go back to the motel and call for pizza because she’s tired as hell and Dean is too.

Castiel agrees, arguing that he too could use a bit of tranquility, so he drives them back to the motel, not noticing Dean sending Meg a thankful nod. Going back to the diner so soon after spending a bit of time there with Jody and Donna could have meant some trouble for Dean. Especially if they were to get the same waitress.

Which is how they get to spend the evening in their room, the three of them sitting on Castiel’s bed and eating pizza out of the box as they watch old episodes of Dr. Sexy. Apparently, Dean isn’t the only one infatuated with that show, to Meg’s utter disbelief.

“You gotta be kidding me… you can’t be into that thing, Castiel. It’s crap.”

“It’s an awesome show, Meg,” Dean provides around his mouthful of pepperoni pizza. “Plus, did you see Dr. Sexy? How can you not be swooning over the guy? And, I mean… weren’t you guys a thing at some point?”

“Rumors… well, we did go on a date, but he’s a major ass… and he totally sucks in bed,” she provides, giggling when Dean’s eyes widen.

“That’s a shame, because he really is good looking,” Castiel says. “I remember finding the storylines pretty compelling at times. Almost makes me miss watching television.”

“Yeah? Why is that, though? Why don’t you got a TV at your house? I mean… you guys could have movie nights once in a while. That’s fun too, isn’t it?”

Castiel shrugs, waiting to have swallowed his own mouthful before speaking. “I guess… I just never bothered. You’re wrong about something, though. There is a TV in the house.”

Both Meg and Dean speak at once. “Where?”

“Upstairs, in the room across from mine. It was my father’s private den… it might still work, but I haven’t checked. It’s one of those old wooden cabinets with a TV set embedded in it.”

Dean, who’s very much of a TV addict – when he can be, that is – can’t hide the look of disbelief on his face. “Man, those TV sets were awesome, built to last. It still works, right? I’m sure it does.”

“Can’t say, never tried turning it on since I moved in. You can try if you want to, but I won’t watch it. Won’t be moving it downstairs either.” He points at the screen. “It’s way too easy to get sucked in, and I believe we have better things to do than sit around watching TV.”

“Because you don’t get sucked in sitting around reading books?”

Castiel squints at Dean, obviously not happy to have his preferred distraction questioned.

“Well, at least books will allow you to imagine the story. Television and movies do the work for you, and it’s kind of sad in my opinion.”

It’s Dean’s turn to be miffed. “Seems to me like the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree. You kinda sound like a snob right now, don’t you think?”

“Being cultured isn’t being a snob, Dean.”

“TV is still culture, Cas. It’s called pop culture for a reason. You know they teach that crap in college, right? Life isn’t just about stuff made by people who have been dead for centuries, man. And movies are awesome… some are dumb, but some can be real clever.”

“My movies were dumb,” Meg provides with a smile.

Castiel gives Dean a smug look. “See? Even Meg, a movie actress, agrees with me.”

“I was actually agreeing with Dean… my movies were dumb, but there’s a lot of good ones out there. Wish I could have worked on one of those.”

It’s Dean’s turn to look smug. “Of course, I don’t watch the smart movies much, but I’m sure you could find something boring enough to tickle your fancy,” he says, feeling bold all of a sudden. Meg clearly notices because she sends him yet another warning glare. He ignores her, rapt in Castiel’s own defying gaze.

“M’sure we can find something crappy for you to watch,” he adds, grabbing the remote from the side table.

“Aren’t we already doing that?” Meg quips, only to be ignored again, Dean already flipping through the channels. She huffs and gets off the bed, tapping a finger against her naked wrist. “Wow, would you look at that? It’s getting pretty late, don’t you think?”

When she gets no response, she puts her shoes on and goes to the door. “Gonna take a walk,” she announces as she puts her leather jacket on. “You boys better behave, you hear?”

Dean and Castiel each give her a distracted ‘yeah’, busy arguing over what constitutes proper entertainment. Something they’re still doing when Meg comes back to the room over half and hour later.

The Saturday doesn’t start as early as the Friday had, but it quickly proves to be twice as busy. Being three instead of two helps a whole lot, with Dean bagging the client’s purchases while Meg handles the money and Castiel answers every little question they get asked.

There’s a bit of respite around lunch time, Castiel once more going to the diner to grab food for the three of them. Dean is sitting with a mug of coffee in hand while Meg restocks the table with produce. She has her head in one of the plastic bins when Charlie Bradbury walks up to their booth.

Dean comes to greet her, glad Castiel isn’t there. When she notices him standing next to her, Meg gets back to her feet.

“It’s okay, Dean… I’ll take care of it.”

Giving a quick look around, Dean answers in a low voice. “I know her, it’s cool.”

Meg gives Dean a crooked smile, then turns to Charlie. “You know him, do you?”

“I do… Charlie,” she says, her hand extended. “Meg, I presume?”

Meg’s smile widens when she shakes Charlie’s hand. “In the flesh. Such a pity that they had to send this guy,” she says, pointing her thumb at Dean. “Think I would have liked to know you better.”

“If you had a phone, I’d probably give you my digits,” Charlie answers, still holding Meg’s hand in hers.

Dean huffs and rolls his eyes. “Come on, ladies… got some work to do,” he says. “How do you wanna do this?” he asks as he takes a paper bag and drops a couple of lollipops in, along with a handful of toffees, and a candied apple. He hands the bag to Charlie. “Five bucks.”

“Actually, it’s more like eight fifty,” Meg provides.

Charlie hands her a ten dollar bill, smiling. “Keep the change,” she says, then looks back at Dean. “Can we meet later this afternoon? After I’ve talked to… you-know-who?”

“Yeah, there’s a diner about five minutes from here.”

“I saw. Meet you there around four?”

“I think you guys should go on a date,” Meg says, making both Dean and Charlie turn to her.

“What?”

“If you’re to have a date tonight, Cas won’t go looking for you. And he’ll know you’re not into him. Two birds, one stone.”

“I’m not…”

“Well, if you’re not, stop flirting with the guy.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“They were flirting?” Charlie asks, that weird light in her eyes again.

“They argued for hours about tv and books. You know, like… married arguing! So very gross.”

“He says TV and movies suck. That’s just not right.”

“So… a date, huh? Should we meet later, then? Sixish?”

“We don’t really need Dean to close up the booth, so I don’t see why not,” Meg says, not letting Dean even try to respond. “Did you bring nicer clothes?” she then asks him.

“What are you? My pimp? I got the clothes I got, plus another set just like it that’s just a bit cleaner. Now, if you don’t mind…” he adds, making a shoo motion with his hands before turning back to Charlie. “Let’s go with the date thing. It’s not a bad idea.”

“Will you tell him it’s with a girl?”

“Well, yeah… I mean, there’s a bunch of people around who could go and chat with Cas, so better not lie.”

“All right.” Charlie looks up at him, beaming as she flutters her eyelashes. “Can’t wait to go on my first hetero date. My parents would be so proud.” She then pokes at his chest. “Not putting out on the first date, buddy. Hope you’re prepared for that.”

“You’ve obviously never been on a date with me.” He winks then waggles his brows. “And don’t forget, you’re paying. I’ll be the one putting out. So… diner at six?”

“I think you should go to that little Italian place a couple of streets over that way,” Meg says as she’s giving a customer their change. “It’s real good, and not too expensive. Plus, I know for a fact that Cas wants go to the diner tonight. Not a good place for you guys to be.”

“Wow… I was joking when I asked Dean if we should be putting you on the payroll, but now I’m kinda thinking we should,” Charlie quips. “Any other great ideas like that?”

Meg lets out a delighted laugh and winks at Charlie. “Tons… they just don’t have to do with this guy’s job. You see, I kinda have a thing for gingers.”

“Okay, enough! Charlie, I’ll see you at that italian place at six,” Dean says, before turning to Meg. “You think we should make a reservation or something?”

“I’ll take care of it,” Charlie provides. “See you later… lover!”

Thanks to Meg, Dean has no trouble leaving early to meet Charlie at the restaurant. The only thing he had to promise Castiel was that he wouldn’t have a glass of wine, however tempted he’d get. Or however convincing his ‘date’ would be that they’d share a bottle.

Of course, Dean promised, except he very well knew the very first thing he’d order would be beer, not wine. So, in a way, he would be keeping his promise. And Italian food meant plenty of garlic, so nobody would ever know he’d had himself a couple of beers.

Dean gets seated at Charlie’s reserved table and asks for a beer right away. The waiter brings it at the very moment Charlie comes in.

“Not a good idea, Dean,” she says in lieu of greeting as she sits with him. “You’re supposed to be a recovering alcoholic.”

“Nice to see you too, Charlie,” Dean quips before taking a first sip of the cold beer. He lets out a slightly exaggerated sigh. “Man, that’s awesome,” he says with a lazy smile.

“Anything for you to drink, Miss?” the waiter asks. “A beer as well? Or a cocktail, maybe?”

She takes a quick look at the drinks menu. “I’ll have a glass of your house wine. Red.”

The waiter gives her back a short nod and leaves. Dean already has his eyes glued to the extensive choice of pasta dishes, humming as he goes through the menu.

“I think I’ll be having lasagna,” he says.

“Thought you would have gone for the pizza. Says here they bake it in a wood burning stove.”

“Had pizza last night… nothing this fancy, but still pizza. And I really want pasta.”

“Great… more for me. Going for the pizza for sure. Whatever’s left, I’ll take back to the motel.”

Dean closes his menu and puts it aside in favor of drinking some more beer. “Where are you staying? In Barre?”

“Nah, Montpelier. A hotel not too far from the sheriff station, actually.”

“Cool. So, what did our friend Adam have to say?”

Before Charlie can answer, the waiter is back with her wine. He also takes their order and relieves them of the menus before leaving them alone once more.

“I had a very nice chat with the kid,” Charlie says after taking a sip of her own drink. “Not to say that the sheriff or her people can’t do their job, but I did learn something interesting.”

“Ah yeah?”

“Took a bit of time, but he did end up telling me something we didn’t know. You know that baker you asked me to look into? Krissy?”

“Yeah…”

“Turns out she and Anna were friends, according to Adam.”

Dean leans back in his chair and squints. “What do we know about her? I mean… is she a local?”

“Yes, and no. She wasn’t born here, but she did move to Montpelier about five years ago. Full name’s Krissy Rogers.”

“Okay. And she was Anna’s friend?”

“More like an acquaintance, I’d say. They met in a baking class here in Barre about a year ago. Kind of bonded over the craft, or so Adam told me.”

“Okay… can you go and talk with her, too?”

“I intend on doing just that, but I asked Kev to look up on some of the things I found. I just wanna be sure I’m not wrong, you know.”

“What about?”

“Krissy Rogers? Not her birth name. It was Chambers.”

“Chambers? Why do I know that name?”

“Lee Chambers? The drunk who killed Castiel’s wife and kid? He was Krissy’s father.”

“What’s with the name change?”

“From what I gathered so far, her mom changed the kid’s name after the dad was sent to jail. Gave Krissy her own maiden name.”

“Her being here can’t be a coincidence.”

“That’s what I still need to determine… I mean, Krissy was six at the time of the accident, seven when her mother legally changed their names. I checked and Krissy never went to visit her father in prison, so—”

“Doesn’t mean the mom didn’t talk about him.”

“Well, that’s another thing. The mom passed away not even a year after the dad went to prison. Suicide by overdose.”

Dean swallows, puzzle pieces starting to get into place. “And Krissy was…?”

“Eight. She ended up living with her mother’s brother, Victor Rogers.”

They get interrupted by the waiter who brings their meal, along with a basket of fresh baked bread. “ Buon appetito ,” he says in a way that’s more than evident that he can’t speak italian for shit. Still, both Dean and Charlie smile back at him before considering the scrumptiousness of their plates.

“Kind of regretting my choice now,” Dean says as he eyes Charlie’s pizza. It looks awesome in ways last night’s dinner wasn’t.

“Your lasagna looks amazing, too. What do you say we share?”

Dean’s face splits in a wide grin. “I thought you’d never ask!”

Instead of talking about Charlie’s findings, they split their plates, and taste, and rave about how everything tastes like heaven. They order a second round of drinks before Dean decides that they should go back to their previous conversation.

“So… the uncle. You looked him up, I bet?”

“I did, not that there’s anything really interesting about him. School counselor, never been married, still lives in his hometown of Conway Springs, Kansas. Krissy was barely eighteen when she left and she came straight here, right after graduation. Now, here’s the kicker… care to guess where she ended up working? Harvelle’s Bar and Grill ,” she says before Dean can even venture a guess. “She worked there for a little over three years.”

“Huh… next you’re gonna tell me she was there the night of the fire?”

“She was. Got burned, too.”

“Meg didn’t tell me that.”

“Don’t think they really know each other. Krissy spent a whole lotta time in the hospital after that, never came back to work at Harvelle’s . Not sure why that is, if it’s her decision or not. Anyway, that brings me to this other thing I found out. You know, that guy who died? He had a boyfriend, right?”

“That’s what Meg said. He survived, didn’t he?”

“He did… until he didn’t. Found out he died a couple of months after the fire. Apparent overdose.”

“Suicide?”

“There’s no evidence of that, but his lover had just died, so…”

Dean nods in agreement. “Was he an addict?”

“Nope! Not sure what brought him to Paradysum, but there’s nothing about drugs in the little I could find. I asked Kev to dig a bit deeper, we should know more soon. If there’s anything more to know, that is.”

“Say, do you remember that girl Kevin talked about when he started this investigation? The good looking blond’s friend who came back from Paradysum and sliced her own wrists? I mean, that makes for a lot of suicide-looking things, doesn’t it?”

“The people that end up at Castiel’s are usually kinda broken to begin with, aren’t they? It’s not too far fetched to think that spending some time in the country won’t be enough to make their problems disappear.”

“No, I know, but… anyone else died? What about that Josie person?”

“Still alive. Her face really got the worst of it in the fire, she’s practically disfigured. Went back to live with her folks and… well… that’s all I know. Kevin will also look her up some more.”

After ordering coffee and dessert – a ricotta pie for Dean and tiramisu for Charlie – the agents take a minute to think over everything they’ve learned.

“Still want me to go see that Buddy Boyle dude?” Charlie eventually asks, obvious hope in her voice.

“If only to rule him out, yeah. What else were you gonna do?”

“Sleep? The sermon’s at seven. On a Sunday. There’s another one at four, but I’m hoping to be on my way back home by that time.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Still gotta go to work, Dean. I shouldn’t even be here in the first place.”

“But what about Krissy? I mean, you still gotta interrogate her, right?”

“It’s in my plans, yes. Jody’s having her come in the station at ten tomorrow.”

They stop speaking again when the last of their meal is placed on the table, Dean impressed to see how quickly that happened. He would have preferred the staff to be a little less efficient, if only to be able to stay and chat with Charlie a while longer.

After not tasting each other’s desserts – Dean doesn’t share pie – it becomes clear that they are expected not to hog the table for much longer. They soon leave, Charlie’s offer to drive him back to the motel very much welcome.

Dean hugs her briefly before getting out of the rental car, wiggling his fingers in goodbye before using the key to open the door. The room is quiet, Castiel sitting on his bed and reading to the dim light of the lamp on the side table. When he looks up to look at Dean, the expression on his face is unreadable.

“Dean… I think we need to have a little talk.”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Dean can feel his face growing warm under Castiel’s attention. He looks away as he takes off his boots, now immensely worried that Meg could have told him what’s going on. Maybe he shouldn’t be taking his boots off. What if he needs to run for his life or something?

“What’s on your mind?” he asks in a calm enough voice, ignoring that last thought. He still stays close to the door, ready to bolt in socked feet if he needs to.

“How was your date?”

Dean squints at Castiel. That can’t be what he wants to talk about, is it?

“Went okay… she was nice and all, but no sparks, you know?”

“No sparks… yes.” Castiel closes his book and gets off the bed to walk toward Dean, stopping at an arm’s length. His gaze slowly goes up and down Dean’s body to end up settling on Dean’s face.

His throat closing up again, Dean looks around the room and swallows. “Where’s Meg?”

“Went to a bar close by. Won’t probably be back for hours.”

“You didn’t wanna go with her?”

Castiel’s eyes keep boring into Dean’s skull has he slowly shakes his head. “Didn’t feel like it.” He takes a step forward. “I do have a message for you, from Meg,” he says, fishing a folded piece of paper from his jeans pocket.

“What does it say?”

“Not mine to read,” he says a he hands it out. Dean takes it, apprehensive.

Touch the unicorn and balls get cut off , it reads. He swallows again.

“And?” Castiel asks, curious.

Dean shrugs as he crumples the paper and shoves it in his own pocket. “Stupid bet we made. She won.” He takes a step aside to go sit on his and Meg’s bed. “Wanna watch some TV or…?”

Castiel doesn’t respond and joins him on the bed. “Still didn’t have that talk I told you about.”

“Oh, right… go on, hit me.”

“Look, I’ll be blunt, all right? I like you, Dean. I like you a whole lot.”

There we go.

“And until this afternoon, I thought you liked me too.”

“Well, of course I like you, Cas. What makes you think that I don’t?”

The exasperated look on Castiel’s face isn’t really a new one, still Dean finds it odd, out of place.

“You know what I mean, Dean. I like-like you… that’s what the kids say, isn’t it?”

“Not a kid,” Dean manages to say through the thickness of his throat. He bristles when Castiel’s fingers brush the back of his hand.

“Speaking of sparks,” he says, letting his fingers crawl up Dean’s arm. “I can’t be the only one feeling them, am I?”

Dean’s heart is beating furiously and he’s starting to get light headed, still he can’t ignore Meg’s note burning a hole in his pocket.

“I can’t…” Dean says, his voice low and raw. It’s easier to deny his want with Meg’s fury right around the corner.

“Why not?”

Castiel’s fingers are now curled around the back of Dean’s neck, the pressure a comforting one.

“I just can’t.”

“But you want, this much I know.” As he speaks, Castiel leans in, their cheeks only a hair apart. The warm puffs of air on Dean’s ear makes him shiver.

And yeah, Dean wants. He’s already half hard and he knows it’ll only get worse if Castiel stays this close to him. He just can’t bring himself to move away.

The words “I promised…” fall through his lips before he can stop them. Whatever power Castiel exudes, Dean isn’t immune to it, unable to find the will to lie.

“Promised who? Golem? Is he waiting for you?”

The motion of Castiel’s hand up and down Dean’s back is mesmerizing. “Meg…” he says. “She’s worried I’ll hurt you.”

“Why?”

It takes all he’s got for Dean to push himself off the bed and out of Castiel’s reach. He goes to stand near the bathroom door, his breath ragged. “Believe me, I’m no good for anyone, and especially not for you,” he manages to say when he’s able to think a little more clearly.

To Dean’s relief, Castiel doesn’t move from the bed. “But you’d be good enough for that girl you just went out with?”

Dean shrugs, putting a hand on the bathroom door handle. He doesn’t want to go in, he only needs some kind of support. “Prob’ly not. Guess I felt like going on a date. Haven’t done that in a long time.”

“What if I asked you on a date?”

“Cas…”

“Meg doesn’t own me, you know? If I want to go on a date with you, if I want to kiss you, if I want to fuck you…” As he speaks, Castiel’s blue gaze burns trails of fire all over Dean’s body. “If I want you and you want me, then it’s none of her business. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Dean shrugs again. “I guess…”

“What do you want? I know I’d like to know you better… is that something you’d like to do?”

Fuck yeah!

“No. I mean… I don’t know.”

Castiel nods then gets up to join him, taking Dean’s hand off the handle to hold it. “Look, Dean… I’m not one to throw myself at people. I prefer my relationships to be more… hmm… organic. Simple.” He raises their joined hands to his lips and kisses Dean’s palm, catching his gaze again. “You don’t need to worry, I will never force you into anything. I just feel…”

When Castiel leans up to kiss the corner of his mouth, Dean closes his eyes.

“Tell me you want me to leave you alone. And when you do, I want it to be the truth.”

“I—”

Dean never has time to say a single word because his lips are suddenly busy kissing Castiel’s. Other than their hands and their lips, they’re not connected in any way, standing only a hairbreadth apart.

He may have been unable to stop himself from capturing Castiel’s lips, Dean still takes comfort in the fact that it isn’t something overly passionate. There’s no tongue, no teeth, no hands roaming about. It’s… sweet.

Until it isn’t anymore. And it’s all Dean’s fault again, because Dean is a sensual individual. He’s even been called a whore on some occasions, by friends and foes alike. Soon, lips aren’t enough and Dean’s tongue has to go and prod at Castiel’s lips. They part easily, letting him in.

From that moment on, Dean’s logic goes off the rail, leaving his most basic instincts in charge. He’s the one who wraps himself around Castiel. He’s the one who leads them both back toward the bed. He’s the one who pushes Castiel to lie on it. He’s the one straddling Castiel while he ravages his mouth.

They don’t stay this way very long, Castiel soon sitting up to pull his t-shirt over his head then helping Dean do the same. The next second, they have switched position, Dean now on his back and looking up at Castiel who’s straddling his thighs.

“So? Top or bottom?”

Dean’s jaw goes slack… saying he’s neither isn’t really an option, is it? He swallows hard when he finally realizes what might be on the verge of happening.

Nothing but a weak “Huh…” pass his lips.

“I’m a top,” Castiel provides as he dips down to start nipping at his neck. “I mean… I’ve bottomed, but I really do prefer to top.” As he speaks, Castiel makes his way down Dean’s torso with open mouth kisses. He sucks and bites at one nipple, then the other one, never looking away from Dean as he does.

“Top,” Dean blurts out, because it’s the only possible response at this point. If there’s gonna be fucking, he has to be the one doing it. Not the other way around. Any semblance of logical thoughts flies out the window when Castiel dips his tongue in Dean’s navel, then licks the trail of hair leading below the hem of his pants.

“Ugh… Cas…”

“Yeah?”

His breath is cool on the skin he’s just licked and Dean has to wet his own lips as he tries to unfasted his belt with trembling hands.

“Let me,” Castiel says, batting Dean’s hands away.

Dean relents, bringing one arm to rest across his face while he wraps a hand over Castiel’s shoulder. He lifts his hips when Castiel gives him a little tap, his pants and underwear soon being pulled off of him and thrown to the floor.

“That’s one gorgeous penis,” Castiel says. It’s enough for Dean to snort a laugh, still hiding behind his arm.

“Don’t be weird,” he says. The remnants of his amusement die in his throat when Castiel’s hand and lips wrap around his length. “Ooh…”

Not that he’s wondered about it, but Dean has to admit that the guy is skilled. This blow-job is rapidly climbing the charts to reach the top five. No… top three. Dean is thinking it could have reached the first position if Castiel hadn’t let him go with a slurp so soon.

Dean kind of whines at the loss, but he forgets all about it when Castiel goes to suck one of his balls in his mouth. The other one gets the same treatment, his sack gets licked and then…

“Oh fuck!” he cries, Dean’s hand automatically flying to his dick because it needs the attention. Castiel’s lips and tongue are like magic on his taint and rim. He’s never been much into ass play, yet he can’t imagine Castiel ever stopping what he’s doing. Dean could stay there forever, getting his ass licked this way.

Dean realizes he’s had his eyes closed when he feels something firm brushing his hole. He lifts his head to see what’s going on downstairs and his eyes catch on Castiel’s. The blue eyes are dark with desire and the pressure happens again, making Dean’s head fall backward, torn between bliss and fear.

His tongue… he’s trying to put his fucking tongue in me. And god, do I want him to.

The realization is like a cold shower and Dean really starts to panic. “Stop!”

It’s all it takes for Castiel to not be touching him anymore. Dean sits up and scoots backward, until his back hits the headboard. “I’m sorry… I don’t…” He swallows, unable to find the words. How can he even start explaining that Castiel has to stop because Dean likes it way too much?

Castiel’s expression is one of concern when he crawls up to him. He stops before they’re close enough to touch. “Was I hurting you?” he says after wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

Dean bristles. “No.”

“What happened? Please know that you can tell me anything. If you don’t want me to eat—”

“Not a fan of ass play, all right?” Dean blurts out, looking anywhere but at Castiel. Until he feels Castiel’s hand on his shoulder.

“You wouldn’t be the first gay man who isn’t too fond of anal play, or so I’ve heard.”

Really?

“Really?”

“I don’t see why not. I myself prefer to penetrate rather than being penetrated. To each their own.”

Dean huffs and rolls his eyes. “Can’t you say fuck? Penetrate… that’s… it doesn’t sound right.”

In place of an answer, Castiel chuckles, sliding his hand down Dean’s body all the way to his thigh. “You did like my mouth on your penis, didn’t you?”

Heat blooms in Dean’s cheeks. Can’t the guy say dick like any other normal human being? “Herm… yeah… that was great.”

The next second, Castiel has his lips on him again. Dean sighs in ease, letting his head fall back to thump on the wall as he buries both hands in Castiel’s hair. Until he has to watch, because Castiel is gorgeous, and his lips are awesome, and Dean wants every one of his senses stimulated.

When he opens his eyes, the sight before him makes him choke on hair. Castiel is stroking himself as he’s working on Dean’s shaft and now Dean needs to touch more than Castiel’s scalp. And he needs to taste something… anything.

“Com’ here,” he says as he pulls Castiel’s mouth off of him. He guides him to sit up on his lap, both their dicks standing proud side by side. He wraps a hand around the both of them and leans forward to capture Castiel’s mouth again.

Castiel’s hand soon joins Dean’s, the both of them fucking into the tunnel of their mingled fingers as they kiss sloppily, moaning into each other’s mouths. When they part, they’re breathing hard as they rapidly get closer to climax.

“Cas…” Dean says under his breath, the name being dragged out into a trembling sigh.

“Dean…” Castiel responds in a similar manner, the rhythm of their hips and hands more erratic by the second.

Castiel is the first one to come, his load landing on both their hands and Dean’s stomach. It’s too much for Dean to bare; he instantly follows suit, his own come mixing with Castiel’s.

They keep rocking their hips lazily, until it’s too much and they need to not be touching anymore. Castiel gets off Dean’s lap to sit next to him, neither of them talking or moving for some time. It’s  Castiel who eventually gets up to get a washcloth. He’s busy wiping them both clean when Dean find his voice again.

“You can’t tell Meg what just happened,” he says in a low voice.

Castiel stops wiping Dean’s abdomen and looks up at him. “I thought we agreed it’s none of her business, Dean. She doesn’t have a say in—”

“Then it won’t matter if we don’t tell her. Since it’s none of her business.”

“You know what I mean,” Castiel says as he gives Dean’s skin one last wipe before throwing the washcloth on the floor. Dean’s eyes follow it, intended on remembering to pick it up as soon as he has the chance. “I don’t have a habit of hiding any parts of my life. Meg, and the others, they’re my family.”

“It’s not about hiding, Cas. I told you, I promised her I’d leave you alone.”

A smile creeps up over Castiel’s lips. “You did try, Dean. Real hard too… she’ll be real impressed, I’m sure.”

Dean harrumphs, tempted to give him some kind of semi playful shove. He doesn’t.

“Okay… I won’t tell her, but I refuse to lie when she asks,” Castiel says.

“Why would she ask?”

A single of Castiel’s eyebrows shoots up as he moves around to sit on Dean’s lap again. Dean swallows, thinking he doesn’t want to go there again. Okay, yeah, I kinda do.

“She’ll ask because you’re not sharing her bed tonight,” Castiel says as he dips to kiss Dean’s lips. They both shiver when their soft dicks brush together.

“Yes, I am.”

“This is not a negotiation, Dean.” Castiel cants his hips, making Dean hiss. “We will sleep in this bed, together. Meg gets to sleep in the clean one.” He dips down again to claim Dean’s mouth. He doesn’t have the heart to push Castiel away.

“She’s gonna cut my balls off,” Dean says when they separate many minutes later. “That’s what was on the note you gave me.”

“She won’t,” Castiel counters, nipping at Dean’s stubbled jaw. “I won’t let her,” he adds as one of his hands sneaks downward to grab said part of Dean’s anatomy. Dean hisses again before moving Castiel’s face so their lips will meet. They make out for a while until they end up lying on the bed in each other’s arms.

Castiel’s head is resting on Dean’s chest, his finger softly tracing the design of his tattoo. “I’d like to get a tattoo,” Castiel says in a low voice. On his way to be falling asleep, Dean only hums, the pad of his own fingers grazing Castiel’s scalp.

“I think wings would nicely cover the scars on my back.”

It’s all it takes for Dean to become alert again. He doesn’t remember feeling anything weird on Castiel’s skin. Did he? “You got scars?”

“Burn scars. I was lucky… I mean, they’re not that big, but I still hate them. They’re not the prettiest thing to see.” In saying that, Castiel turn to his side, exposing his naked back to Dean.

The lights are dim, but it’s enough for Dean to notice the small patches of marred skin. He touches the scars, ever so softly. Meg had said Castiel got burned, still he managed to forget about it. “I didn’t know,” he says under his breath, taking his hand off when he realizes he said that out loud.

Castiel turns back around to face him. “How could you have known?” is all he says, cradling a hand over Dean’s cheek. “It’s not like I walk around without a shirt on. Not many people know about this. It happened a long time ago.”

“How long?”

“Two years.”

“That’s not really a long time, Cas.”

Castiel smiles, his eyes getting droopy. “It is to me.” He moves his body to line up with Dean’s before giving him a soft kiss on the lips. “We really should sleep. Tomorrow’s a big day,” he adds as he closes his eyes.

The hand on Dean’s face soon drops between them. Apparently Castiel is one of those people who can fall asleep in seconds. It’s Dean’s turn to brush a hand over Castiel’s cheek, softly enough that he won’t wake him up. He smiles as he looks down to where their legs touch, then winces.

Crap! he thinks when he realizes they’re naked and their clothes are all over the place. And there’s that dirty washcloth somewhere on the floor. He gingerly gets off the bed to start picking up the mess. Meg will be angry enough as it is, no need to shove the evidence of his betrayal in her face.

As he puts his underwear on, he decides he should try to do the same for Cas. Maybe he should have let it alone and just drape the covers over Castiel’s body instead because the boxer are only halfway up when the door opens.

“What the fuck are you doing? Get off of him!”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Meg may be kind of small, having her jump on Dean’s back and start hitting is enough to make him lose his balance and fall face first on Castiel, who wakes up in a start. Dean is sprawled over him and trying to protect his own head from the fury sitting on his back.

It takes a couple of seconds for Castiel to fully realize what’s going on. “What… Meg? What are you doing? Stop that!”

“He was taking your underwear off when I came in and—”

“Meg, I said stop! Now!” Castiel yells, putting as much gravitas in his voice as he can. It’s enough to startle her into ceasing her assault on Dean, but she doesn’t move away.

“Get off him, Meg… you’ll hurt him.”

“He deserves as much. I know you think there’s good in—”

When Dean speaks, his voice is small and he’s short of breath. “Putting boxers on. Not off. My back… please…”

“Meg, for the love of God… get off him!”

Meg huffs as she complies. Dean groans as he rolls onto his back, pain making his eyes sting with tears. “Meds,” he croaks. When Meg doesn’t move, Castiel pulls his underwear all the way up before getting up to help him.

“Where are they?”

“My jeans, on the chair… right pocket.”

Castiel comes back to the bed with the bottle and a glass of water he places on the side table. “Do you need help sitting up?” he asks.

Dean sniffles and shakes his head. He groans as he pushes himself up in a sitting position before swallowing the pills with some water. As he does, Castiel turns to face Meg.

“What the hell’s your problem?” he asks. “What in the world could make you think jumping on Dean’s back like that was a good idea?”

“He was pulling your underwear off.” She squints at Dean when he glares at her. “That’s what it looked like, anyway. And I told you not to touch him. Told you what would happen, didn’t I?”

Dean’s hand automatically cups his groin while Castiel scoffs at her.

“He told me, Meg. What gives you the right to go and threaten people this way? If Dean wants to ‘get with me’ and I want to ‘get with him’, it’s none of your business. Am I making myself clear?”

The laughter Meg lets out is a bitter one. “Oh… he told you about that, did he? What else did he tell you?”

“Nothing that concerns you,” Castiel offers back. Dean can see he’s trying real hard to keep it together, except he can’t worry about that right now.

What he’s worrying about is that feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He knows Meg has nothing to lose and everything to gain in telling Castiel what she knows. And the more he tries to convey through insistent eye contact how she should keep her mouth shut, the more she looks determined to talk. And when she does, Dean can only sit there and watch in horror as everything around him crumbles.

“Did he tell you his name’s not Dean Smith? Or that he’s FBI? Did he tell you he’s here to investigate us?”

Cas saying “Don’t be ridiculous, Meg,” at the same moment Dean says “Not investigating you,” is enough to give Castiel whiplash.

“What did you say?” He glares at Dean, urging him to repeat.

“Said I’m not investigation you guys,” he says, hating that his heart feels like it’s breaking as he says it.

“Not anymore, he’s not,” Meg provides. “He’s here for Anna, and that Flagstaff chick, I think.”

“Leave!”

Dean is about to get off the bed when Castiel turns to Meg. “Please Meg, just go. Leave us alone.”

“Where the hell am I supposed to go?”

He points at the clothes Dean had folded on the dresser. “Take some money in my wallet and go get yourself another room. Just… I’d rather not see you again until tomorrow morning, okay?”

Meg does a quick job of gathering her belongings and leaves the room, mumbling under her breath. Neither Castiel nor Dean know what she says, and they don’t care, busy eyeing each other until the door slams shut.

“I’m listening,” Castiel says, going to stand at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed. “What the hell is going on here?”

Dean swallows, hating the look of distrust Castiel has on him. Not that he doesn’t deserve it.

“My name’s Dean… Dean Winchester.” He can’t help the soft gasp that passes his lips; he hadn’t meant to give out his real name. “I’m FBI and I was sent here to investigate Paradysum after Anna Milton’s death.”

“Why?”

“Because it was most probably a murder.”

“We were told she had an overdose.”

“I think—”

“They think someone at Paradysum killed her?”

“It was one of the hypotheses, yes.”

“Not anymore?”

Dean forces his gaze to meet Castiel’s irate one and shakes his head. Castiel looks away and nods, then starts pacing around the room. He does this for a while, until he comes to a stop between the two beds.

“What was this?” he says, waving a hand between the two of them. “Was that part of ‘the job’?”

“Cas…”

“Do you even like men, Dean? Because now that I think back about everything that’s happened, it’s starting to look a whole lot like you had a gay panic of some sort.” As he says that, he comes to kneel on the bed. Dean’s eyes are drawn to the man’s covered groin. He swallows, needing to force his gaze back upward.

“I—” He sighs when Castiel puts a hand on his thigh. “I’m not gay,” Dean says under his breath. Doesn’t matter that his dick stirs alive as Castiel’s hand moves up. “But you do things to me,” he feels the need to admit.

“I do, do I?” Castiel says as he puts his hand over Dean’s crotch and start massaging it. “You’re not gay, but you like when I gay touch you?” Dean hums and nods as his eyes fall shut.

“Look at me!”

Dean’s eyes fly back open. What he sees in Castiel’s gaze has nothing to do with the lust that was there earlier. All Dean can see is anger and wrath. Even the hand on his dick is starting to get rough, just not rough enough for Dean to want him to stop.

“How dare you come into my home under false pretenses,” Castiel says, his voice rough and shaky. “How dare you make me fall for you only to pull the rug under my feet,” he adds, roughly pulling Dean’s underwear down, just enough to set his dick and balls free. He wraps a hand over Dean’s scrotum and squeezes, making Dean yelp.

“Maybe Meg was right in saying you should have your balls cut off.”

It doesn’t matter that Castiel’s tone is menacing, his hands aren’t. Not really. He may be using more force than he did before, it’s still soft enough to be somewhat enjoyable.

Something deep inside Dean feels like he should be begging, that it would make Castiel happy.

“Please… Cas…”

The grip on his balls tightens ever so slightly. “Please what?”

A single tear falls from Dean’s eye. “Don’t hurt me.”

Castiel licks the tear off and loosens his hold a bit. “I told you about my scars. I showed them to you,” Castiel says in a low voice. “You owe me something real.” Castiel flexes his hand a couple of times over Dean’s balls. “Choose wisely, because I’ll know if you’re being untrue.”

Dean sucks in a breath, tempted to put a hand on his own filling dick. “My tattoo,” he says without a second thought. “It’s not just a random thing.” He bites at his lower lip, trying to stifle the want coursing through his veins. “It’s—it’s a thing my brother and I got. For our mom. After she died.”

Like magic, the pressure disappears and Dean is alone on the bed again. He’s hard as fuck, but he knows he better ignore it. “I’m sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t get the response he’s been hoping for.

“Get out.”

“Cas—”

Castiel doesn’t look mad anymore, just disheartened. “I said get out, Dean. I need some peace and quiet.”

“For how long?”

The bitterness on Castiel’s face is enough for Dean to feel only a couple of inches high. “You’re done, Dean. Whatever you were doing here, it’s over. You’re not welcomed at Paradysum anymore.”

“But, Cas—”

“Don’t make me call the cops,” Castiel says, before letting out a dispirated chuckle. “Which, in hindsight, wouldn’t do any bit of good. Just leave us be… please.” As he says that, he throws Dean’s clothes and bag on the bed. “The sooner the better.”

Dean doesn’t say another word as he gets dressed, Castiel going to sit on the other bed with his back turned to him.

“Can I just say one thing?” Dean says as he grabs his bag. “It’s important, I swear.” When Castiel doesn’t answer, he takes it as an assent. “I think someone’s got a major beef with you.”

No reaction.

“And they seem to be going after the people you care about.”

This time, Castiel turns around to send him a suspicious glare. “Who would do such a thing? And why?”

“I’d rather not say who we think it is, in case I’m wrong. As for the why, that’s still to be determined.”

“So you’re saying is that Anna’s dead because of me?”

Dean sighs and sits on the rumpled bed. “No. Whatever’s happening, it’s not your fault. If I’m right, it’s her own doing.”

“Her?”

Son of a bitch!

“Whoever’s doing this has only themselves to blame. You and your friends, you’re the victims here.”

Castiel nods, his eyes to the floor. “If I knew who it was, I could speak to her.” He looks up. “Them.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Cas. Not now, anyway. And I told you, we’re not even sure yet. We’re still investigating.”

Castiel looks back up at him, squinting. “You say we. Who’s we?”

Dean shrugs. “We… the FBI… it’s a team effort.”

“Look, Dean… I get that you won’t tell me who you’re investigating, but I won’t sit here and let you lie to me. Who’s we? Jody and Donna? Meg? Is Meg also an FBI agent?”

The laughter rolls off Dean’s tongue before he can catch it. “Meg? FBI? You wish… nah, Meg’s the real deal, she’s your number one fan.” Dean huffs and shakes his head. “She did find me out, though. Found my phone and shit. Knew right away why I came here and she offered to help.”

“You have a phone?” Castiel goes squinty again. “Where?”

Dean grabs his bag to pull out the phone. He drops it back in before Castiel can take a hold of it. “I’d rather not let you see what’s in there,” he explains. “Sensitive information and what not.”

“What about the sheriff?”

“Yeah… me working on their nursery was kind of an excuse to swap information.”

“What about you getting run over? What was that? A way to have us feel sorry for you? Are you even an alcoholic?”

“No to both… really got run over, and I don’t have issues with alcohol.”

I could still drink less than I usually do , his own mind provides, and that’s another thing Dean is bound to ignore.

“So everyone at Paradysum is clear? You don’t suspect any of us?”

“I haven’t found a reason for anyone to wanna harm Anna.”

“And you’re sure she—”

“Somebody dumped her where she was found, Cas. That’s who we’re looking for right now.”

“I see…” Castiel sighs, lying down on the bed with his arms crossed under his head. He stays like that for a while, his gaze lost on the popcorn ceiling. Neither speaks or looks at the other, Dean quietly hoping Castiel has forgotten about kicking him out.

“If I were to let you come back, would you tell the others who you really are?” Castiel eventually says, still with his eyes upward.

“Don’t think it’s a good idea, Cas.”

“Why not?” This time, Castiel turns to look at him. “You said so yourself, you don’t think anyone at the house did it.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m right. Plus, the more people know, the hardest it’ll be to do my job. And, well… that person we’re looking into? They may be friends with other people at Paradysum… and friends, well, they talk. I can’t risk it.”

Castiel nods, going back to looking at the ceiling. “Then, I’d rather you didn’t come back with us tomorrow.”

“Cas—”

“I told you before, these people are my family and I won’t be lying to them.”

Dean’s first instinct is to list everything he knows about Jimmy Novak and ask if the others know about that part of his life. Except he knows that angering Castiel isn’t the best strategy right now. Even with that in the back of his mind, he can’t help his tone being a bit on the rough side when he responds.

“Telling them anything might just put them in danger, Cas. You don’t wanna do that.”

“Because not telling them they might be in danger is going to help?” Castiel counters as he sits up again. “Don’t you think they should be vigilant?”

Dean shakes his head. He knows Castiel isn’t entirely wrong, it still might fuck everything up if he tells them. Fuck everything up more, that is.

“I get it, Cas, but… look, my boss is probably going to tell me to leave Monday anyway. Can you just wait a bit before you tell everyone?”

“I said you’re not welcome anymore, so whether you leave or not is of no import.”

Dean’s heart sinks; he’d honestly thought Castiel would understand. “Don’t you wanna find out what happened to Anna?”

Castiel genuinely looks hurt when he meets Dean’s eyes again. “Of course, I do. I loved that girl, she didn’t deserve to die the way she did. And I loved Flagstaff… I mean, I love everyone at the house dearly, past and present.” He closes his eyes and huffs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I love—I loved you, Dean.”

“You don’t even know me, love is a bit strong, don’t you think?” Dean says in a stammer.

“No, you’re right about that, I don’t know you. And when I say love, I mean… I don’t mean I’m in love. I feel real affection for everyone at Paradysum.” He shakes his head and huffs again. “But yes, I could have fallen in love with you, Dean. It’s a blessing that—”

“I’m sorry, okay. I never meant to lead you on,” Dean says as he sends a tentative hand toward Castiel’s knee. He doesn’t let him touch, jerking away and getting to his feet.

“You did lead me on, Dean. You’ve been lying from the moment I met you.” Castiel’s face is contorted in anger. “However righteous you think you are, you couldn’t be more wrong. You’re not a good person, Dean. Now get the hell out of my room before I decide cutting off your balls is a good idea.”

Dean is waiting for Charlie on the bus bench in front of the motel when he hears Meg chuckling behind him; he turns around, if only to glare at her.

“Came to gloat?” he says before turning back around again.

“Kinda,” she says as she comes to sit beside him. “Told ya not to go after Cas.”

He looks at her through squinted eyes. “You know we might never know what happened now, do you? Thought you loved Anna.”

“I loved her. And I love Cas… I lost one, m’not about to lose the other.”

“How me—us—how does this mean you’d lose him?”

She shakes her head, a sad laugh on her breath. “You gotta know about his past, don’t you? Being FBI and all.”

“I know enough.”

“So you know about his wife and kid, right? You gotta know what that did to him. Imagine if he was to fall in love with you and then find out about this shit. I’m told he barely survived last time.”

“You know people can fuck without it meaning… you know… love and crap.”

Meg’s nostrils flair. “So you guys fucked? Not that hetero now, are you?”

“We didn’t fuck, per se… anyway, doesn’t matter now. He kicked me out.”

Looking away from him, Meg hums and nods. “What about Anna? Gonna keep investigating?”

“I won’t… the second my boss learns about that shitfest, he’s gonna have me bring my ass back to the office.” Dean looks at Meg to see her chin trembling. He may not be happy with her right now, he still doesn’t want to be hurtful.

“Look, when I told Jody I didn’t think it was any of you guys, she told me I should leave anyway. That she’d keep investigating. Nobody’s abandoning Anna, okay?” He sighs when he notice the tear rolling down her cheek. “If it helps any, we may have found a good lead. Can’t tell you who we’re looking into, but it’s promising. I should know more tomorrow.”

There’s no more anger in Meg’s dark eyes, just grief and maybe a bit of hope. “You did?”

Dean only nods, daring to put a comforting hand on her knee. She lets him do it. “Is it someone I know?”

“Can’t say… and now that I’ve told you that, I can’t ask if you know them.”

“But you’ll tell me what happens next, right? You won’t leave me hanging?”

Dean can’t help the confused look he gives her back. “Meg… you told Cas who I am. I gotta leave. You’ll probably know more eventually, but it’s gonna be from the sheriff’s office, not me.”

Meg doesn’t have time to answer that a car comes to a stop in front of them. The window’s down and there’s some peppy tune from the 80’s playing just a hair too loud. Charlie turns down the volume to speak.

“Hey, Meg… nice work you did there,” she says, giving her a sarcastic double thumbs up. “Come on, Dean. Let’s go… I still gotta get up early!”

“Take care, Meg. Pretty sure Castiel’s not really mad at you, you guys will be okay.”

“I know. You, on the other hand, might be the first person he’s truly ever going to hate. Good on you,” she says, before making her way back to the motel.

Dean doesn’t say another word as he drops his bag on the backseat and comes to sit next to Charlie. “I can drive if you’re tired,” he offers as he makes the window go back up.

“No chance, buddy… I’m always subjected to your music when we work together because you’re the one driving. Now’s my turn,” she says before turning the sound back up. They’re about to drive away when they get startled by heavy knocks on the passenger window.

Castiel is standing next to the car, mimicking for Dean to crank down the window. He can’t help rolling his eyes when he presses the button, the window going down smoothly.

“Cranks aren’t a thing anymore,” he feels the need to say, to which Castiel huffs.

“The van has them…”

“You need something?” Charlie says when the men can’t seem to do anything but stare at each other.

Castiel’s gaze shifts to her, only for a second. He looks back at Dean, rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“Don’t go… if only for Anna’s sake.”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Castiel telling Dean not to go is enough for him to get out of the car. He doesn’t even think twice about it.

“You’re sure?” he still says as he opens the door to the backseat.

“There are too many questions I need answers to.”

“Cas, I can’t tell you much about the investigation. Not yet.”

The curt nod Castiel offers him back is all Dean needs.

“All right,” he agrees before taking his bag. “Charlie? You gonna be okay?”

She scoffs at him. “I’ll be tired as hell, but who cares… you go and do your thing,” she says, making the tires screech the second Dean closes the door. He looks at her driving away, knowing he’ll get chewed out the second he comes back home.

He turns to find Castiel already close to the door. He runs to catch up, scared the man will have changed his mind and leave him stranded outside. Or worse, that he’ll have decided to send him spend the night with Meg.

His pace turns into a jog when Castiel doesn’t open the door. He only does when Dean joins him, stepping inside and holding it open.

“Thanks, Cas.”

Castiel doesn’t answer and goes into his own bag to take out a fifth of Jack Daniels.

“Guess you’ll have some? Since you’re not really an alcoholic?”

Although he knows he probably should keep his head in the game, Dean also feels the need to soothe his nerves. And booze is a nice way to do this.

“Yeah, ok,” he says, purposely keeping his gaze away from the bed where they—

“You’ll want to sit with me, then. I don’t have glasses, so we’ll be sharing the bottle. Unless you’re against that, because, you know, germs…? It’s not like I had my mouth on your ass or anything.”

It’s enough for Dean’s whole face to warm up. “Don’t mind,” Dean manages to say as he sits on the bed and grabs the bottle Castiel is handing him. He can’t hold in the pleased sigh at the familiar trail of warmth the whiskey leaves as it goes down his throat. He takes a couple of gulps then hands the bottle back to Castiel. “Thanks.”

Again, Castiel doesn’t respond as he himself swallows a bit more of the whiskey before setting the bottle on the side table with force.

“Everything you’ve ever told me was a lie, wasn’t it?”

Dean shrugs, his eyes on his own lap. “Most of it, yeah. Didn’t really have a choice.”

“Not an orphan, I gather?”

“Yeah, I am. Just in a different way. Mom died when we were kids, Dad many years later… it’s just me and Sam now.”

“Sam… brother?”

Dean closes his eyes and huffs; he hadn’t meant to talk about Sammy. “Yeah.”

“What does he do?”

“Cas… leave him outta this, all right? I can’t—”

“Fine, I won’t ask about him. Are you married, then? Have kids?”

Dean chuckles and shakes his head before looking up. “No way, man. I couldn’t be doing this if I was. It’s better this way… and anyway, I wasn’t lying when I said I wasn’t good for anyone.”

Castiel nods. “You might be right about that, yes.”

He may have been the one to say it first, Dean still feels the sting to have Castiel agree. He says nothing, mostly because he knows nothing he’d say could make things better. It takes a while for Castiel to speak again, seemingly lost in thought for some time.

“I’m afraid to ask, but… I thought you looked quite mature for your age. You’re not really in your twenties, are you?”

“I’m actually thirty-eight.”

Castiel scoffs, taking the bottle to swallow a bit more of it. This time, he doesn’t offer any to Dean before putting it back on the side table. He licks his lips, shaking his head in apparent disbelief.

“How can you live with yourself, doing what you do?”

“Doing what I do? Cas, my job is to catch bad people doing bad things. It’s the best job in the world. I’m like Batman… sorta.”

“So you don’t care about the people you hurt in the process?” Dean would like to defend himself, but Castiel doesn’t let him. “Those people you’ve been investigating, their pain is real. Yet you have no problem coming in and lying to them so they’ll feel sympathy for you. You let them care for you, love you, even though you know you’ll never return the sentiment.”

Castiel’s voice breaks at that last part. He lets out a sad chuckle before looking back at Dean, angry tears giving his eyes some kind of otherworldly glow.

“You’re nothing more than a glorified whore.”

Again, it’s not the first time Dean’s been called a whore. Except this time, it hurts like hell. Doesn’t matter that it’s pretty much the truth. And since there’s nothing that Dean can answer to that, he lets his gaze drop to the floor.

“I wish—” he starts, only to stop when Castiel moves to straddle his lap. “Cas?” he says in a squeak.

Even sitting on him, Castiel looks angrier than ever; his face is flushed, his eyes are dark and wet, and his plump lips are set in a thin line.

He’s magnificent.

“I spent a lot of money on you, whore,” Castiel says, burying a strong fist in Dean’s hair and pulling his head back. “I’d think I’m entitled to pretty much anything I want. What do you say to that?”

“I’ll give all the money back to you… told you I would.”

“You did tell me,” Castiel says before licking Dean’s neck. “But you know I don’t care for money… sex, though, I like a whole lot,” he adds as he rocks his hips against Dean’s.

If it had been anyone else, any other man, Dean would already have pushed him off. Maybe he would have clocked him on the jaw, too. And because Cas isn’t really a mark anymore, Dean shouldn’t have to pretend to be into him. Which is just as good because whatever’s happening in his body right now – racing heart, bulging sex, tingling spine – it’s anything but pretense. And it’s also a little bit gay, not that he even cares anymore.

“Cas…”

“Shut the fuck up,” Castiel says, pulling harder on Dean’s hair, making him moan and shiver some more. “I knew you liked it rough, Dean,” Castiel murmurs in Dean’s ear. “But then you went and told me that sob story about being abused. Do you know how wrong that is?”

As he speaks, Castiel keeps rocking his hips, his lips and tongue catching on Dean’s stubbled skin. The lump is back in Dean’s throat, so even if he wanted to tell him the abuse had been real, he can’t. He’d rather tell him that yeah, he’s always been some kind of submissive in the sack. He says nothing, unsure what it is that Castiel would rather want to hear at this point.

“You’re getting hard,” Castiel says as he keeps rubbing their clothed groins together. “Bet you’d love to find some release, wouldn’t you?” He takes Dean’s chin between his fingers, forcing their gazes to meet. “I don’t intend on letting you do this. Not until I myself am satisfied.” He dips down to land a strong kiss on Dean’s lips. “If that’s not something you want, you better say something now.”

Castiel is still holding onto Dean’s hair and chin, not rocking his hips anymore. “Speak,” he orders in a surprisingly soft voice, his thumb caressing Dean’s lower lip. “Red for stop, green for go.”

“What happened to yellow?” Dean croaks, his voice trembling.

“Yellow’s the same as red for me. Are you yellow?”

Dean shakes his head, wincing when his hair gets pulled harder. “I asked you a question.”

“G—green… m’green.”

Castiel gets off the bed, to Dean’s utter confusion. He lifts a pleading gaze on him. “I said green.”

“I heard. And now, you’re not saying a single word unless I tell you to.”

Dean snaps his mouth shut and nods, watching as Castiel takes his clothes off. It’s not really a striptease, still it makes Dean hard in a matter of seconds. He’s about to start leaking in his underwear.

“Take your clothes off and lie on your belly,” Castiel says once naked. Dean’s eyes bug out, yet he complies, his clothes soon flying everywhere. After lying down, he makes sure to keep an eye on Castiel over his shoulder.

“Don’t look at me.”

“But—”

“Red or Green?”

Dean huffs. “Green.”

“Good boy.”

Soon, Castiel is sitting on the back of Dean’s legs, both his hands kneading the muscles in his back. He hums, delightfully surprised. “A massage? That’s awfully nice of you,” he says, only to be startled with a sharp slap on the ass.

“I told you to shut up.”

Dean swallows and nods, closing his eyes. He’d like to try and find reasons why he’s letting the man do this to him, or why he likes it so much, but he can’t. Even when Castiel pulls his buttcheeks apart, he can’t find it in himself to argue against it. The memory of Castiel’s mouth on him is too fresh, yet so far…

“Please…” he says under his breath, which results in his ass being slapped once more. He whines.

“Next time you speak, I stop touching you. Are we clear?”

Dean nods, biting at his lower lip to refrain from making a single sound. Castiel lets out a satisfied hum and Dean just wants to look, but he doesn’t move. A second later, something wet dips between his cheeks to brush his hole: a finger, probably a thumb by the thickness of it. He whimpers.

“You were lying about not being into butt stuff, weren’t you?” Castiel says in a soft, yet commanding tone. “I hate liars.” He presses his thumb harder, just not enough to breach him. The finger disappears and Dean’s cheeks get parted once more, a warm liquid soon dripping on his hole.

Spit! he realizes, shivers running all the way down his spine.

Then the finger is back… not the thumb this time, Dean thinks. And frankly, he doesn’t care. Castiel spits some more, spreading the saliva over Dean’s rim, never pressing hard enough to enter him.

“Red or Green?” Castiel says, his voice low and raw.

“Green,” Dean answers, tempted to just send his hips upward so his ass would gobble up Castiel’s teasing finger. Of course, he doesn’t. Because he knows that won’t fly… and holy hell, does he want to fly right now.

Whatever he said before, Dean’s no stranger to butt play. It’s something he likes to do on himself – once in a blue moon – or with adventurous ladies. He’s even let a couple of male marks – ones he didn’t care much about – toy with his backside. In all, it hadn’t happened often and it had been brief, but he didn’t hate it. Nor did he love it. It had been all right, nothing to write home about. If one were to write home about that kind of stuff, that is.

Although Castiel’s finger isn’t all that big, Dean still gasps when the tip passes the rim. Castiel doesn’t go further and keeps it there, letting Dean get used to the intrusion.

“Still green?”

“Mm-hmm,” Dean can only muster to say.

“Say it.”

“Green, goddammit!” he almost screams, which is enough for the finger to disappear. Dean lets out another pitiful whine, sending a pleading look over his shoulder. “Green,” he murmurs, his voice trembling. He whines again when he notices Castiel’s dick standing proud, and red, and wet at the tip. He licks his lips. “Not that,” he dares to say, worried Castiel might have a mind to fuck him.

“Not unless you beg for it… eyes up front,” Castiel says, stroking himself. Dean obeys again, even harder now than he was before. He needs some friction, but he knows moving would most certainly make Cas stop.

Another wad of saliva lands on Dean’s hole and then the finger is back. Castiel pushes it back in, not going very far and taking it almost out before pushing it again, deeper. More saliva trickle down on him, and when a second finger joins the first one, it’s enough for Dean to start seeing stars.

It doesn’t take long for Castiel’s fingers to be sliding in and out as if they’d always belonged there. Until Castiel stops and starts proding around, eventually brushing the bundle of nerves he’s been searching for. Dean yelps and bucks his hips.

“Humpf!”

“Green?”

“Green, green, green…” Dean chants, Castiel relentlessly massaging his prostate.

“Who doesn’t like ass play now?” Castiel sing-songs before spitting on him again. Dean is so messed up by then that he hardly notices. All he knows is that he’s right about to come and if he could only—

“I said no, Dean,” Castiel says, pulling his fingers out. “You don’t come until I tell you to.”

“Green,” Dean answers, knowing anything else wouldn’t work. Seems like that doesn’t either because Castiel doesn’t put his hands back on him.

“Do you trust me, Dean? Yes or no.”

And hell if Dean wouldn’t tell Castiel anything he wants to hear right now. “Yeah…”

Dean feels the mattress dip as Castiel crawls toward the head of the bed. “Make it nice and wet,” Castiel says, holding his dick in front of Dean’s mouth.

Dean’s eyes widen, tempted to say ‘red’. Instead, he says “m’not beggin’ for it,” and Castiel’s gaze softens, if only a little.

“Do you trust me?” he asks again, to which Dean nods this time. “Green?”

“Green,” Dean murmurs then licks his lips and closes his eyes as he wraps them around the glans.

“Nice and wet, Dean,” Castiel instructs, and Dean can only obey, taking him in his mouth as deep as he can. Turns out he’s so hungry for it that saliva starts dribbling out of his mouth and down Castiel’s shaft. “Good boy,” Castiel says, soon pushing Dean off of him.

“Eyes up front,” he says again as he goes to spread Dean’s legs to kneel between them. His butt cheeks get parted once more and Castiel licks his crack from top to bottom, once, twice, three times. “Red or green?”

He may be a bit worried about what’s to come, still Dean answers the only thing that makes any sense to him. “Green.”

The first slide of Castiel’s dick against his crack makes Dean suck in a breath. When the head catches on his rim a couple of thrusts later, he has to stop himself from chasing it. He buries his face in the pillow, drowning out the mewling sounds he’s unable to stifle as Castiel’s dick slides between his butt cheeks.

Beg for it, Winchester… come on, you know you want it… beg for it!

The want is there, it’s still not enough for Dean to speak. It’s just as well, seeing as Castiel comes all over Dean’s back and ass in no time at all. And as he does, he grabs a handful of Dean’s hair, pulling his head backward. “Come,” he commands before biting on the joint between Dean’s neck and shoulder.

“Gotta move,” Dean says in a croak, his hips already rocking against the mattress. “Need more.”

He’s too far gone to care when Castiel gets off of him. He’s toeing the edge, eager to find his release. And when Castiel’s wet finger gets inside him again, Dean finds it’s all he needed and comes with a strangled shout, fucking himself on Castiel’s digit as he coats the sheets.

The finger disappears quickly, leaving Dean with an empty feeling. When he opens his eyes to look at Castiel lying next to him, Dean is surprised to see him not looking all that blissful.

Dean needs to swallow the lump in his throat before he can even attempt to speak. “You okay, Cas?”

“I’m good… how about you?”

Castiel’s tone is dry, monotone, and Dean hates it. Especially now. What he’d really like to do is curl up against him. He doesn’t dare, instead bringing a hand to rest low against Castiel’s belly.

“I’m great… that was great, Cas. I never thought—”

“So you’ll let anyone do anything to you for the sake of the job, won’t you? That’s something you like?”

Dean huffs as he takes his hand back. “I don’t let nobody do stuff I don’t want to me.” He ignores how this, by definition, should mean that he’s not as straight as he’s always claimed to be. “Told you before… there’s something special about you, Cas. Can’t say what it is, but it’s there.”

Not looking like he’s even listening to Dean, Castiel gets up, once more going to the bathroom to grab a washcloth. He comes back to clean up the mess he’s left over Dean’s skin, never once looking at him in the eye as he does, no matter how Dean tries to catch his gaze. Castiel doesn’t say another word before getting back in bed, lying on his side with his back turned to Dean.

“Please… I’d love to be left alone now,” he says, his voice low and somewhat rough.

The shivers that run along Dean’s spine are rooted in dread, not desire. “What? Where do you—”

Castiel lets out a resigned breath. “The other bed, Dean… please… just go.”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Although neither of them says another word before the sun comes up, Dean knows Castiel slept about as much as he himself did. Which is not at all.

Castiel is the first to get up. Dean doesn’t move, keeping is eyes closed and holding his breath as Castiel goes to lock himself in the bathroom. Only then can Dean breathe freely. He sits up and purses his lips when he’s confronted to his own body odor. He hates not having taken a shower after Castiel banished him to the other bed. And he hates even more that joining him in the bathroom is out of the question. Because he totally wants to do it.

When his brain starts bombarding him with images and sensations from the night before, Dean turns the TV on, in dire need of something else to think about. Except flipping through the channels isn’t enough to disperse the fog that’s been hovering over his head since Castiel stopped touching him.

Even though he knows he’s never fallen asleep, it still feels like he’s startled awake when Castiel comes out of the bathroom with his wet hair in disarray and a towel low around his hips.

“I’m done, if you want a shower,” he announces, never once looking at him.

Dean gives him a jittery nod and forces himself to look away as Castiel gets dressed. He blindly grabs everything he owns, his clothes and bag, and disappears into the bathroom. He goes to lock the door, but still the movement; if Castiel wants to come to him, he should be able to.

That thought alone is enough for Dean to actually lock the door in an angry gesture. Whatever power Castiel has over him, Dean needs to get over it. What happened the night before could never happen again. There’s no reason why it should; Dean isn’t undercover anymore, not really, and Castiel isn’t a mark.

The shower Dean takes is longer than he had planned, breaking into nervous sobs the second the warm water touched his skin. It doesn’t last long, but Dean needs to make sure nobody can tell he’s lost it by switching off the hot water. His skin is still prickling from the harsh cold shower when he comes out of the bathroom.

His stomach flips when he sees Meg in the room, speaking with Castiel in hushed tones. They stop the moment Dean joins them, both turning their eyes to him.

“We’re going back home,” Meg says, obviously not too happy about it.

“Why?”

“Don’t feel like doing this again today,” Castiel says as he grabs his bag. “Ready?”

Dean drops his clothes and bag on the bed. “Gimme a minute?” he asks as he goes around the room to make sure he’s not forgetting anything. Castiel nods and exits the room while Meg stays with him.

“How pissed is he?” Dean asks as he puts everything back in his duffel.

“Not sure pissed is the right word… disappointed’s more like it. And maybe a bit heartbroken, too.”

Meg’s words are like a stab in Dean’s own heart.

“I knew this would happen,” she adds, glaring at him. “That’s why I told you to leave him be.”

“He—he came on to me. I didn’t want—”

“My ass, you didn’t want! I don’t care anymore, what’s done is done. Got your shit?” she says, opening the door.”

Dean doesn’t respond as he flings the bag over his shoulder to follow her outside. Castiel is already sat in the van, waiting for them with his gaze in the opposite direction. He doesn’t acknowledge them when they open the doors and get in, putting the van in drive before either of them has secured their seatbelts properly.

This time, Dean is thankful for the bad radio station Cas has put on. It doesn’t matter that the drive back is a short one – Dean could swear Castiel has been speeding – the crap radio makes the heavy air hanging between the three of them somewhat tolerable.

When they finally get home, Castiel’s demeanor is enough for nobody to even try asking why they came back early. They do get a couple of curious glances, but nothing more.

“You guys just go in, we’ll unload the stuff,” Hannah says as she joins them at the van, followed by Metatron and Gabriel. The two guys go to the back and start working while Hannah wraps an arm around her cousin’s shoulders to steer him away.

“Cas?” Dean calls out. They hadn’t talked again about the need to keep Dean’s true identity a secret and he’s suddenly worried Castiel hasn’t changed his mind about being upfront about it. “Cas!” he repeats, louder.

And although he hates the hardness of Castiel’s gaze, Dean still feels somewhat relieved to see him give a discreet nod. Dean gives him a similar one, the smile he tries to give back feeling like a grimace.

“He won’t say a word,” Meg says in a low voice. “He told me he wouldn’t,” she adds before following Castiel and Hannah toward the house.

Dean stays behind, feeling lost. Which is why he decides to go and help the guys unload the van, if only to have something to do other than worry about everything that’s gone wrong. Or the dark shadow still clinging to his skin.

“What happened? How come you guys are back so soon?”

No matter how much Dean wants to ignore Metatron’s question, he knows doing so would only bring more of them. So he shrugs as he pulls plastic bins out of the van. “We’re all kind of tired, I guess. Plus, my back hurts a whole lot.”

Gabriel hums thoughtfully while Metatron looks all but satisfied. “You got meds, don’t you? Plus, you could just hang out in the van, sleep it off or something.”

“Met, leave the boy alone, would you?” Gabriel says, giving Dean a friendly wink. “You think he’s the one that decided to leave? If Cas thought they better come back, then that’s what they did.”

“Surely, but—”

“You go on, Dean… we’ll finish up here,” Gabriel says over Metatron who huffs and glares at him, but doesn’t try saying anything else.

Since he can’t really explain why he’d rather avoid going back to the house right away, Dean grabs his bag and nods in thanks before making his way to the kitchen’s patio door. Inside, he’s confronted with many of the residents having breakfast. They all greet him with a smile, but nobody asks any questions, which Dean can deeply appreciate.

He answers with a general hello as he makes a beeline to the coffee urn. He pours himself a cup and leaves the kitchen to go up to his room, never crossing paths with anyone else. Once in his room, he drops his bag on the floor and puts the mug on the side table, letting himself fall onto the bed with his eyes closed.

When Dean opens his eyes again, he’s surprised to find his coffee has gone cold. If it hadn’t been for that, he might not have believed he had fallen asleep.

He’s wondering what could have woken him up when he notices the low buzz coming from his duffel bag; the phone is ringing. He drops to the floor to fish the device out, but it’s too late. He has one missed call from Charlie. He calls her right back, not in the mood to wait and listen to the voicemail she’s probably leaving him.

He presses the call back icon as he gets the new voicemail notification, not caring that yet another person could hear him.

“Where are you?” is the first thing Charlie says when she answers. “I went back to the fair and you guys aren’t where you were yesterday.”

“Sorry, shoulda called ya,” Dean says between yawns. “Seems Cas didn’t feel like staying after everything that’s happened.”

“Did he say why?”

“I think he’s pissed.” Or heartbroken.

“Do you need me to come get you? Is he gonna tell the others?”

“Meg says he told her he won’t.”

Charlie scoffs. “Because we totally can trust her, can we?”

“It’s not like it matters all that much, Char. Bobby’s gonna tell me to haul my ass back to the office Monday morning, we both know he will.”

“Yeah, probably… it’s not like there’s anything more we can do anyway.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I had a chat with Krissy this morning.”

“Oh yeah, forgot Jody had called her in.”

Charlie’s answer is nothing more than a non committal hum.

“Remember, Charlie… sharing is caring!”

“That’s not really how it happened. I met her at Buddy Boyle’s sermon, of all places.” Dean can’t help be suspicious of her cheery tone, still he waits patiently for her explanation. “Well, not at the sermon per se, but after. Turns out some folks like to picket outside the dude’s church.”

“They do?”

“I’d read about that, but I thought it was an occasional thing. Krissy tells me she and her friends try to go at least once a week.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s a dangerous bigoted asshole… her words, not mine.”

“I’m sure he is, but why the picketing? They want him to close shop or something?”

“According to Krissy and her friends – met a couple of them – what they wanna do is counter whatever crap the dude says during his sermons. They want his flock to understand how wrong he is. They try to achieve that by talking to them.”

“Does it work?”

“It hasn’t yet,” Charlie says. “Dean, I don’t think Krissy has anything to do with Anna’s death. Or whatever else may be happening. Maybe… maybe it’s just a string of very shitty events.”

“You didn’t even interrogate her, Char.”

“Not really, no. I didn’t need to…”

“Is she cute?” Dean doesn’t hear to hear Charlie gasp to know he’s gone too far.

“I’m not the one who can’t keep it in his pants when there’s a cute mark around!”

“I’m sorry, Char. Didn’t mean it like that.”

“Better not have… and even if she was cute, because she is, it has nothing to do with anything. Anyway, I’ve heard the things they say to the Reverend’s followers and they’re not against Cas or Paradysum. They support him.”

“You mean to say we’re back to the drawing board?”

“I guess… that poor girl, though. I’m afraid Castiel isn’t as good as Meg says he is.”

“What are you even saying?”

“Krissy… when she moved here, she kind of hoped she could go live at Paradysum. And even though Cas refused, she stuck around.”

“And you don’t think that could be enough to be pissed at him?”

“She’s not. She actually understands why he refused, seeing what her father did. Still, she feels the need to stay close, in the hopes that he’ll forgive her someday.”

“She said all of that during a five minute chat?”

“I might have brought her to have a coffee at the station. When I told her who I was and why I was there, she insisted to tell me everything she knows. Her and Anna really were friends, not just acquaintances as I thought before.” Charlie sighs, letting out a sad chuckle. “I also had a chat with Sheriff Mills afterward. We kind of agreed to the fact that there’s not much of anything left for you to do here.”

“There’s still a killer to be—”

“Dean, I really don’t think there’s a killer. Yeah, maybe Anna Milton’s body was dumped, but it might only be because she hung out with sketchy people, like drug dealers. She took too much and… well… you know how these things go.”

“What about Flagstaff? The fire? My accident?”

“Something I’d like to call a string of unfortunate events…”

“You’re wrong, Char.”

“Maybe… guess we’ll see what Bobby has to say when I meet with him tomorrow morning.”

“You know he’s gonna want me to come back.”

“Yup… is that so bad?”

Yeah, it fucking is.

“I guess not, if it’s just a bunch of crappy stuff that happened…”

“Next week you won’t even be thinking about these people anymore. Take a vacation. Like, the actual kind, with beaches, and the ocean, and palm trees… and loads of margaritas.”

As his friend tries to convince him he should go to Mexico or some other sunny vacation spot, Dean lets himself fall back on the bed, again with his eyes closed. He doesn’t want to leave, not  before he’s made things better between with Castiel.

It’s not like he wants to date the guy or anything like that. He just can’t bear the thought of Castiel hating him, even if he doesn’t get to see him again once he’s gone. He’d love if they could stay friends though, call each other from time to time. Dean could come spend some time during the summer, hang out…

Have a bit of sex, if that’s something Cas would like to do.

He hasn’t been listening to whatever Charlie’s been saying, which might be why it doesn’t really dawn on him that he cuts her off. “Gotta go, Char… we’ll talk later,” he says before shutting the phone off and throwing it back into the bag. He leaves his room, crossing over to Castiel’s side instead of going downstairs, convinced the man’s going to be sulking in his room.

Dean’s eagerness kind of falters as he comes to stand in front of the door, ready to rap his knuckles over the wood. He takes a couple of deep breaths before knocking.

“Cas?” he calls after a while, knocking some more. A door opens behind Dean.

“What do you want?”

Dean pivots on his heels to see Castiel standing in the doorframe with his arms crossed. A telling noise is coming from the room and Dean can’t help the smirk that appears on his face.

“You watchin’ TV?” he says as he walks inside – doesn’t matter that he hasn’t been invited.

“Was curious to see if it still worked,” Castiel says as he goes to shut the TV off. “It does… now if you don’t mind, I’d like to—”

“You always gonna be like that?” Dean asks as he sits in one of the two oversized leather chairs.

“Like what?”

“Like that,” Dean reiterates, waving a hand at him. “Cold. That’s not who you are, man.”

Castiel takes his time to reply, shutting the door before coming to sit in the second armchair. They’re kind of facing each other now, still too far to touch. “You know nothing about me, Dean. You only think you do.”

Dean leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “Sorry to tell you, but I probably know more than you think. I know your real name, who you were married to, the name of your—”

“Shut up!”

Castiel’s jaw is set so tight that it’s a surprise he can speak at all.

“You’re playing a very dangerous game, Dean,” he says, keeping his eyes on the motifs of the ornate rug. “Please don’t push me… you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.”

When Dean laughs, Castiel turns to glare at him. “I don’t see why this is so funny to you.”

“You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry,” Dean repeats, imitating Castiel’s tone of voice. “You had to know I’d get that reference, didn’t you?”

“Get what reference? I’ve never been more serious.”

“Wait… you really don’t know what you said just now?”

All Dean gets in response in a very confused squint and a tilt of the head.

“You gotta know The Incredible Hulk , right?”

“ The Incredible Hulk ? The big green guy? I did hear about him, might have seen him on TV when I was younger. What does he have to do with anything?”

“That’s a famous quote of his… well, pretty sure it’s Banner who says it. Anyway, that’s why I laughed. Wasn’t laughing at you or anything.”

They keep silent for some time, neither of them looking at each other. Even then, the air surrounding them doesn’t feel as heavy anymore.

“So… the TV works, huh?” Dean eventually says, having no clue how else to try and get to a better place with Castiel.

“It does… poorly so, but it does.”

Dean nods, having nothing to add to that. So he looks around the room. He’s impressed at how frozen in time it is; it clearly hasn’t been updated since the early eighties. Still, it looks well taken care of, with close to no dust anywhere on the furniture. Then he notices the only real modern object in the room.

“You have a laptop? Thought you said you knew nothing about computers.”

“I don’t… not really.” Castiel turns around to follow Dean’s gaze. “That was a gift from my brother, some years ago. He hoped we could use it to ‘chat’ or whatever. I hardly ever use it, seeing as I never bothered getting access to the Internet. Once in a while I’ll bring it to Witch’s Brew and use theirs to look up bee related topics.” He sighs, turning back around. “I hate it… it’d be much faster to just call and speak to someone to get the information I need. Apparently, not everyone thinks like me.”

This time, Dean lets himself smile as he listens to Castiel. The man’s tone isn’t so acidic anymore, and he doesn’t seem as mad as he was only minutes ago. He does hold the chuckle that wants to get out when he spots Castiel glancing at him and rolling his eyes.

“I’m still mad at you, you know,” Castiel eventually says, his eyes back on the rug. “Still, I need to apologize to you.”

“What for?”

“How I acted last night… I—how are you feeling? Are you dropping?”

“Huh? Droppin’ what?”

Dean is surprised by the shame he reads in Castiel’s gaze when he looks back at him. “Was this your first experience at being dominated?”

It’s almost enough for Dean to almost choke on his own tongue. “Huh… I guess. I was that bad, was I?”

“Dean, no! You weren’t bad at all. I was… I should have been taking care of you afterwards.”

“Don’t need nobody to take care of me, Cas. I’m a grown ass man.”

“So you haven’t been feeling helpless, or weird at all? I did dismiss you quite harshly.”

Dean shrugs, extending his legs before him. They’re long enough that he almost catches Castiel’s foot with the toe of his boot. “I’ve had my fair share of one night stands, I know how they go. Don’t worry about it.”

“No. I failed you, Dean. And I’m sorry. I may be unhappy with you, it still doesn’t excuse me abandoning you the way I did. I acted like the biggest assbutt.”

When Dean shrugs again, it’s mostly because the lump is back in his throat. He’s itching to go and touch Castiel, but he knows it wouldn’t be welcomed. As he tries to steer his thoughts away from Castiel, he lets his gaze wander around, until he catches a glint of light in the corner of his eye. He turns to look where it came from; the sun coming through the slats of the wooden blinds is reflecting on something metallic under the leather loveseat. From where he sits, it looks like—

“What the hell,” Dean says as he drops to the floor to crawl toward the loveseat. He sits on his heels as he takes off his flannel to wrap it around his hand.

“Dean?”

Ignoring Castiel’s worried tone is easy. Blindly trying to grab what he’s found without hurting himself or contaminating it isn’t. He softly wraps his covered hand around what looks like a soft vinyl pouch and pulls it from under the furniture. It’s indeed a bag and its content falls from the unzipped opening; a burned spoon, a couple of syringes, and a cell phone.

“What the fuck’s all this?” Dean asks through gritted teeth, showing off the pouch and its scattered content.

“I—it’s—I don’t—”

“Is this yours?”

“Yes—I mean—no—the bag is mine, but…”

As he attempts to provide an explanation, Castiel comes to grab the bag but Dean catches his wrist before he can get to it.

“I’d rather you didn’t touch it.”

“But it’s mine…”

Dean’s mouvements are rough when he lets Castiel go. He gets to his feet after having secured the items back in the bag and zips it, making sure to wrap it tightly in his shirt. Only then does he turn a hard glare on Castiel.

“I think you better shut up now, Cas.”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

“This is not how we do things, Dean… there’s gonna be hell to pay, you know this, right?”

Dean doesn’t answer Charlie as he drives her rental car to Sheriff Mill’s house. He often sends furtive glances through the rearview mirror to see Castiel looking back at him, his blue eyes wide with confusion… there may be a little bit of fear in there too.

Charlie doesn’t speak again, to Dean’s relief. He doesn’t need her to know he’s breaking protocole, in more ways than one. Hell, he pretty much blew protocole out of the water just by not arresting Castiel on the spot.

Thing is, even with all the evidence against him right now, Dean refuses to believe Castiel is guilty of anything. Doesn’t matter that the vinyl bag is his, he swears its content isn’t and Dean believes him. Even the fact that he’s the only one with a key to that very room isn’t enough to start thinking Cas is guilty of anything. No… if anything, it just reinforces Dean’s idea that the stuff has been planted there. Just like the pair of muddy shoes – Castiel’s shoes – Dean found in the back of the den’s closet, wrapped in a dirty trench coat.

Not only did Castiel never dispute ownership of anything Dean found, he stayed seated in the armchair as Dean looked around. He never tried to explain himself, nor did he try to flee. He stayed where he sat with a dumbfounded look on his face and that was enough for Dean to know Cas was being framed. By someone in that very house, most probably.

The second Dean parks in the sheriff’s gravel driveway, the front door swings open. Even from where they are, he can see how angry she is. And she should be, seeing she specifically told Dean not to bring a possible culprit to her house.

Before he can get out of the car, Jody has both her hands against the door, preventing him to open it. “This is my home, Dean! You can’t bring suspects to my fucking home!”

And, okay… she’s not angry, she’s livid.

Against his better judgement – something he seems to be lacking these days anyway – Dean lowers the window to speak. “I’m sorry, Jody… it’s just Castiel, and I’m sure he’s innocent. I only need you to talk to—”

“I don’t care if you got the pope himself back there, you can’t put me and my family in danger this way!”

“I found stuff, Jody… it’s gotta be analyzed and Cas has to be interrog—”

“Your investigation, your problem. If you’re not out of my driveway in the next minute, I swear I’ll shoot you!”

“Dean, let’s go,” Charlie pleads from the passenger seat. “I’m sorry, Jody, I tried to tell him…”

“Go!” is all Jody answers, to which Dean finally complies. He puts the car in reverse and turns around in his seat. Catching Castiel’s sad gaze is enough to make him forget what he’s been doing and they just stare at each other until Charlie punches him hard on the shoulder.

“Dean! I’m not in the mood to get shot today. Just go already!”

It startles Dean into tearing his eyes away from Castiel’s and maneuvers the car back on the road. The next second, Charlie’s phone is chiming with a text message.

“Donna says she called the station, they’re expecting us. We can use their facilities how we see fit.”

“Does the sheriff know about that?”

“You really think she doesn’t know Donna’s talking to me right now?”

Dean harrumphs as he makes a right hand turn toward the sheriff station. He glances once more in the mirror to see Castiel not looking back this time. He has his eyes outside and his chin is trembling.

“Cas…?” Dean says. He can’t say another word when he sees the man close his eyes and a stray tear rolls down his cheek.

Not another word is said as they make their way across town, Dean stopping at the far edge of the station’s parking lot. He shuts the motor off, but doesn’t move. Nobody does for a good five minutes.

“You know I better be the one doing this, right?”

Dean turns to his partner, his throat so thick that he can’t speak. He shrugs, then nods, then shakes his head. “Yeah?” he finally utters under his breath.

Castiel’s hand landing on his shoulder startles him.

“Don’t worry about it, Dean. I know you guys are only doing your job. I’ll be fine.”

This time, Dean turns fully in his seat to lock eyes with Castiel. “The evidence against you… Cas, it looks real bad.”

“I know.”

“Are you sure nobody else has a key to this room?”

“I did give a set of keys to my brother when I moved here, years ago. He’s never come to visit since I moved in, though.”

“Could he have—”

“Dean… we’re not interrogating him in the car,” Charlie intervenes as she also pivots on her seat to look at Castiel. “Ready to go in?”

Castiel only nods as he tries to open the door. He frowns when it doesn’t budge, then tries another couple of times.

“Child lock,” Charlie says as she opens her own door to go and let Castiel out. “Dean? Are you leaving? You could go back to my—”

“I’m staying around. Just go, I’ll catch up with you.”

“All right.”

Charlie shuts both doors and guides Castiel toward the entrance while Dean watches them walking away. Only when they disappear inside does he take the phone from his pocket. He tries to regulate his breathing as he thumbs through his little contacts to find his brother’s name.

He hesitates for a second, unsure if Sam would even consider helping him out. He’s probably knee deep in other cases and has no time to spare. And, well, Castiel comes from a wealthy family so he probably already has a lawyer. Dean finds he doesn’t care because he really needs his brother right now, so he presses the call button.

“Hey, Dean… back already?”

Sam’s voice in his ear makes his heart skip a beat.

“God, it’s so good to hear your voice.”

“Why aren’t you calling me from your real phone? Are you okay?”

“I’m good. I just—got a break in my case this morning and… how busy are you? At your job, I mean.”

The chuckle Sam lets out leaves a sour taste in Dean’s mouth. “Got in trouble? You need a lawyer or something?”

“Not me… the guy I was investigating.”

“You want me to represent your mark?”

“Yeah, well… not sure he’ll really need anyone for very long. Still, Charlie’s gonna be interrogating him so he has to speak to a lawyer. Even if it’s just for a hot minute.”

“Why me? There has to be lawyers where you are.”

“Probably… he could even have one already, I don’t know. If not, can I tell him to call you?”

Sam isn’t laughing anymore. “If you’re asking me to get involved, it means you don’t believe he’s guilty. Am I right?”

“Yeah, pretty much. It looks fucking bad, though.”

“And having me represent him, you don’t think it’d be a conflict of interest?”

Dean sighs, very well aware that it would be. “Listen, Sam… you don’t have to do this. But you should know that I’m taking myself out of the investigation. After I hang up with you, I’m calling Bobby. I’m done.”

“That doesn’t sound like you, Dean… what’s the real deal here?”

“I’m just—I’m beggin you, all right?”

It takes some time for Sam to speak again. “I can talk to him if you want me to. I just can’t promise I’ll be representing him.” He sighs. “Does he even have money to pay me or are you expecting me to go pro bono on this?”

“Bill me, no rebate… not asking for a freebee here. We do this legit.”

“All right. Give him my number and tell him I’m expecting his call.”

“Thanks, Sammy. You won’t regret it.”

“Yeah… somehow, I really doubt that.”

Dean doesn’t have time to say another word that the line goes dead. He still needs to call Bobby, but telling Cas he can call Sam is a lot more pressing, so he gets out of the car to join the others in the station. His heart sinks when Charlie and Castiel are nowhere to be seen. He goes to the front desk, hoping the fact that he doesn’t have his credentials with him won’t matter all that much.

“Agent Winchester, FBI,” he announces to the young deputy who greets him. “My partner just brought someone in?”

The freckled woman points at a door further down the hallway. “Agent Bradbury told me you’d be coming in. They’re in interrogation room 3B, right over there,” she explains as she buzzes him in through the gate. He nods his thanks and makes his way to the appropriate door and knock on it.

“Thought I’d be the one doing this, Dean,” she says when she opens the door, not letting him in.

“No, I know.” She’s small enough that Dean can see the inside over her head. Castiel is seated at a table, looking his own lap. “You told him he could call a lawyer, right?”

“Of course, I did. What do you take me for?” She glances at Castiel, then looks back at Dean. “He refused. Says he doesn’t need one.”

“Cas?” Dean calls. The man looks up at him, his expression unreadable. “You gotta call a lawyer, man. It’s your right.”

“I have nothing to be guilty of, Dean. I don’t need representation, I’m innocent.”

No matter how much he’d like to go sit with Castiel, Dean knows Charlie won’t let him.

“Even innocent people need lawyer… especially innocent people. Sam agreed to help if you don’t have one already.”

Castiel frowns. “Sam? Your brother, Sam?”

“Yeah, he’s a great lawyer. And he’s expecting your call.” Dean rubs the back of his neck. “Not saying you’ll need him to defend you, but he can at least give you some advice for now.” He looks back at Charlie, determined. “Make sure he calls someone… and preferably Sam, okay? You got the number?”

Charlie nods, not saying another word before she closes the door on him. Dean stays there for another minute, unable to move until the deputy comes to get him and lead him away.

Dean is sipping on his second vending machine coffee when Charlie joins him in the station’s kitchenette. She buys a couple of coffees before coming to sit with him.

“Where’s Cas?” is the first thing he asks.

“Still in the interrogation room. Came to get something to drink… you talked to Bobby?”

“I did. Not only am I off this investigation, I’m also suspended. Dunno ’til when.”

Charlie hums as she sips on her coffee. “You’re lucky you still have a job, if you ask me.”

Dean shrugs. “Doesn’t seem I’ll have one for much longer. Remind me to give you my gun and badge when we get back home?”

She nods, tapping her fingers on the table. “Thought you’d like to know Cas called Sam,” she says after a loaded minute. “Why did you have to go and do this? Of all the shit ideas you’ve had in your life, this has to be the worst one.”

“He has a right to a lawyer, Char. You know this.”

“Yeah, I do… but Sam? Major conflict of interest here, dude.”

“It’s not my investigation anymore.”

“Maybe not, but you were the one to find the evidence. How do you think that’s gonna look like when this goes to trial?”

It’s enough for Dean to suck in a breath. “Why would he? I mean, he’s innocent, right?”

“That’s what he claims to be, yes. I know you believe him, but it really looks bad. He can’t even come up with an alibi for Anna’s time of death.”

“He never goes anywhere, Char. There has to be at least half a dozen people in that house that can confirm he was home.”

Dean hates the look of pity that dawns on Charlie’s face. “That’s just the thing, Dean. He wasn’t.”

“What?”

“When Anna died, Castiel wasn’t at Paradysum for a good portion of the night.”

“Says who?”

“He did.”

“Where was he?”

“Said he went to spend the evening in Burlington. Went to a bar, picked up some chick, they got a motel room… need I say more?”

Learning that Cas got himself a one night stand all those months ago shouldn’t be bothering Dean. Yet, it does and he has to steel himself before speaking again. “If he went places, then there should be some kind of paper trail, cctv footage, something.”

“Of course, we’ll look everything up… paper trail is unlikely though, as neither used cards. Castiel paid for the room cash and he can’t even tell me his hook-up’s name. If he’s lucky, whoever rented him the room will remember seeing him.” Charlie drapes a comforting hand over Dean’s. “I don’t think he’s guilty either, but you should still prepare yourself. Some people are just real crafty. We could be wrong about him.”

“We’re not, Char… I’m not.”

It’s easy to see Dean isn’t in the right headspace right now, so Charlie doesn’t insist.

“Just came here to get Castiel and myself some coffee… we might be here for a while still. Why don’t you go back to my room, chill out for a bit? No more than a twenty minutes walk, I’m sure.” She takes her room key card from her pocket to hand it to him.

Keeping his eyes on the table, Dean shakes his head, not taking the offering. There’s no way he’s leaving here without Castiel. If they decide to book him, then he’ll bail him out, or send cash to Sam so he can do it. The last place Castiel should be is in jail.

“Dean…” He glances up to see Charlie looking at him with a worried frown. “What happened to you? I’ve never seen you get this emotionally invested. You’re supposed to be a pro, man…”

“I’m still a pro, Charlie. I just know the guy isn’t guilty, is all.”

“Then you should have nothing to worry about.” She tries to catch his eyes, but he won’t let her. “Did you… are you in love with him? Is that what’s going on here?”

Dean scoffs at her and shakes his head. Still, it’s the words “Yeah… maybe…” that fall from his lips, and he immediately regrets it. “No! I mean, that’s crazy. I just met the guy.”

Charlie takes his hand again to squeeze it. “Don’t see how it’d be crazy, Dean. Love at first sight is a real thing. Still, you know that’s another reason why you should leave and let me do my thing.”

“Not leaving,” Dean spits, taking his hand back to hide it on his lap. “Did you get whatever results we need from the pouch and clothes?”

“It’s Sunday, Dean. We’ll be lucky if we get anything back today.”

“Of fucking course! Who cares, it’s just one guy’s life in the balance, right?”

“Dude, you’re losing it! You talk as if we’re about to tie the guy to a post in the back and execute him.”

“Aren’t you?”

With a sigh, Charlie pushes her chair back as she gets on her feet. “You need a nap, Dean… you’re really cranky and it’s messing up my chi!” she says before leaving the room.

“Chi, my ass…” Dean mumbles to himself, wondering if anyone in this place could spare a little booze. He’s had enough of coffee and he needs something to calm his nerves. He thinks about his father’s old flask he had to leave at home for this investigation. He thinks about his car. He thinks about his apartment and how nice it’d be to have Cas visit him there.

He groans as he gets to his feet, internally chiding himself to be acting like a damn schoolgirl with a crush. He paces around the small room, but he soon needs to leave when he starts suffocating.

He doesn’t respond to the freckled deputy when she says goodbye as he walks by her. He may not know this part of town, but this is America; there’s got to be a liquor store in walking distance. What he finds first is some kind of tavern and he decides he might as well go in. Buying a fifth of bourbon to sip it in the station might not look all that good after all.

“What can I get you?”

Dean barely gives the gorgeous girl behind the bar a glance before ordering a beer. Bourbon would have been nice, but he knows he’s just going to down it like it’s lemonade. So beer it is… he needs to soften his edges a bit, but getting shitfaced now won’t help anybody.

He has just ordered his third beer when he feels the phone vibrate in his pocket. He’s only half tempted to ignore it, but Castiel’s future being on the line is enough to answer anyway.

“Yeah…”

“Dean? Where the hell are you?”

He hates when Charlie talks to him this way. It’s like she thinks she’s him mom or something.

“Chill out, Bradbury. I’m five minutes away… was thirsty.”

“Are you drunk?”

“I only had a couple of beers, Char, gimme a break. You guys are gonna come join me or…?”

“Dean, I—I’m sorry. I had to—Bobby called, he said I had to.”

This can only mean one thing, yet Dean refuses to believe it. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Bobby, he—new evidence came into play, Dean. I had to arrest Castiel.”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

It doesn’t matter that Dean ignored his third beer to almost run all the way back to the station, he wasn’t permitted to see Castiel. Charlie’s orders, so the freckled girl said. And when he called Bobby to have him talk to her, he confirmed that he wasn’t allowed anywhere near Jimmy Novak and was expected back at the office the next morning.

He knew telling S.S.A. Singer off was yet another bad decision. Still, he did it, arguing he didn’t need to be anywhere since he’d been suspended. Ultimatums were given and Dean ignored those as well. Hanging up on his boss felt about as good as a bowling ball dropping low in his stomach.

From that moment on, Dean keeps to himself. He knows Charlie is only doing her job, he still can’t help being pissed at her. Just not pissed enough to refuse the key to the room she booked for him at her hotel. He had feared for a second that they’d have to share like they often do. Charlie could have been asked to be moved into a double instead of the single she’s in now.

She didn’t, and Dean is grateful. Just not enough to say it. Not right now, anyway.

After yet another sleepless night, Dean is sitting in bed, absentmindedly flipping through the channels on the TV. He’s taken a look at the hotel’s breakfast menu and he’s not hungry enough to bother ordering anything. All he needs is for it to be late enough to go find that Krissy chick; he’s got a whole lot of questions for her.

He’d also love to be able to go to Paradysum, but he knows he better not do that. Especially if there’s gonna be an FBI crew there to do some more snooping around. Because if Castiel’s been arrested, then his house will no doubt be searched from top to bottom.

Dean feels himself flush when Castiel’s voice echoes in his mind; Top or bottom?

He gets off the bed, bent on ignoring the buzzing heat the souvenir prompts. Just like he’s been ignoring Charlie knocking on his door or calling several times since the sun came up. That’s something he’s been doing a whole lot, ignoring stuff. Like all those things he’s apparently chosen not to acknowledge until Castiel brought them up to the surface.

When his phone rings again, Dean almost ignores it again. He still looks at the screen, curious. It’s not Charlie this time, but Sam.

“Hey,” he only says in greeting.

“Hey…” Sam says in a sigh. “Did you sleep at all?”

“You know I didn’t. What’s new? Spoke to Cas?”

“You probably know already that your friend’s been arrested. He’s been accused of murder, Dean. Multiple accounts, too. What the fuck were you thinking? Giving him my number… I don’t have much experience with that kind of stuff, you know that.”

“He’s innocent, Sam. I swear he is. And you’re an awesome lawyer.”

“Doesn’t look like he’s innocent, Dean.” Sam sighs again, irritated enough to ignore the compliment. “I can’t go into details since you’re not supposed to be involved anymore, and, well… client attorney privilege and shit, but—”

“I’m the one paying, Sam, that makes me the client. You’re gonna tell me whatever I wanna know.”

“Castiel refused that I bill you, saying he’s got enough money. You’re not the client, he is.”

Hope springs from the depths of Dean’s belly. “So you’re taking him on? You’ll help him?”

“I still need to come and meet him, but yeah, I might as well. You know I trust you, Dean. And if you say the guy’s innocent, then it’s enough for me. Just… you gotta know, the evidence against him in damning.”

“Did you talk to Charlie at all?”

“Nope. You know I can’t really do that. Not right now, anyway.”

“Yeah, got it.” It’s Dean’s turn to sigh, loudly. “Charlie said they have more evidence than what I had. Do you know what it is?”

“I do…”

“And?”

“Dean, I can’t, okay? Not unless Mr. Novak agrees that I do.”

“His name’s Castiel.”

“No, it’s not. Not legally anyway. It’s James Novak that’s been arrested, and that’s who I’ll be representing.”

Without even bothering to say goodbye, Dean hangs up the phone. And since a delicate swipe on a screen isn’t satisfying enough for his taste, he decides to chuck the phone across the room. The crunch of the device breaking apart fills Dean with ease, until he realizes he’s now phoneless.

“Son of a bitch!”

The advantage of the hotel, the only one if Dean were to be asked, is that it’s pretty much at the center of everything. He doesn’t have to walk very far to find a place where he can buy a phone. It’s actually Charlie who buys him one for him he has no way of paying for it himself right now.

“Wish you would have brought my IDs and stuff along,” he had said as sole excuse to not be ignoring her anymore.

“I’d have brought them if I knew how much of a shit show this thing would turn out to be,” she’d answered, and that’s all they said on the matter. Charlie doesn’t say a word about Dean destroying his phone, and Dean doesn’t ask a single question about Cas.

They almost get in an argument again when Dean tells Charlie he’s not going back to the hotel right away. What bugs her isn’t the fact that he’s not going back, it’s that he won’t tell her where he’s going. She kind of knows anyway, and she’s not too happy about it.

“You gotta stay away from that thing, Dean. The more you poke at it, the worst it’ll be for Castiel. You don’t want that, do you?”

“I’m not an idiot, Char. I just don’t feel like going back to the hotel, is all.”

“You can’t go back to the house.”

“I know… I’m not going there.”

“Where, then?”

“I’d rather not say. Just… I swear I’ll behave, all right? I still know how this all works and the last thing I wanna do is make things worse for Cas. I hope you’d believe me.”

“I do believe you wanna help him, but I’m not sure you’re thinking all that clearly right now. If he’s innocent like you say he is, then everything’s gonna turn out okay.”

“He’s been arrested. You guys think he’s guilty. He might have to go to trial.”

“I know, it looks bad right now, but I’m not taking anything for granted. Everything looks just… weirdly shiny with a big bow on top.”

“Guess you won’t tell me what that new evidence’s all about, are you?”

Charlie shakes her head. “I wish I could… maybe Sam could—”

“I asked already. Unless Cas gives his okay, he won’t tell me either.”

“I’m glad to hear Sam’s taking this thing seriously.”

“Don’t think anyone’s taking this more seriously than me,” Dean spits before starting to walk away from his friend. Because if he doesn’t, this discussion will get ugly.

“Thanks for the phone Charlie! That was super nice of you and everything!” he hears her yell behind him. He huffs and looks at her over his shoulder to wave at her. She winks back at him and starts walking the opposite way.

It takes him a good fifteen minutes to reach Witch’s Brew . It’s about as empty as it had been that first time he came and it’s enough to wonder how in the hell they make ends meet. This time, it’s Rowena who’s standing behind the counter, flipping through a magazine. She looks up when she hears the door chime.

“Oh… it’s you…” she only says, then goes back to her reading.

At this moment, Dean has no way of knowing if Rowena knows about what’s been going on. Seeing how she’s close to Gabriel, it’s possible that he could have told her. Also, their baker is Krissy and she did talk to Charlie. If there’s something Dean knows, is that people talk.

He comes to stand at the counter, his eyes on the menus on the wall. “I’d like to—”

“Fergus! Clients!” Rowena yells without letting him finish. She takes her magazine without another word and trots through the door leading to the kitchen. Crowley walks out of it a couple of seconds later, an aggravated look on his face.

“My mum’s a lazy witch,” Crowley offers as an excuse as he comes to stand across from Dean. “Let me guess: An americano and some of that pecan pie?”

Although the offer is tempting, Dean shakes his head. “Not now. What I’d really like is to talk to your baker, Krissy. Is she here?”

“She was here earlier this morning, but she asked for a couple of hours off,” Crowley explains, pointing at the espresso machine. “Coffee?”

“Yeah, okay… when is she due back?”

Crowley turns to prepare Dean’s drink as he speaks. “Not sure. Soon, probably… it’s been over an hour already. She promised she’d be here no later than ten. Can I ask you what you want to talk to her about?”

“It’s personal,” Dean only says, to which Crowley huffs.

They don’t speak again until Crowley sets the cup in front of Dean. “Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat? We have muffins and cookies, if you don’t feel like pie.”

Dean almost laughs at that. He may not be hungry right now, pie’s the one thing that’ll always get a pass. “I’ll never feel like not getting pie. Get me a piece of that beautiful pecan thing.”

Crowley readily obliges as Dean looks at the clock on the wall. There’s almost an hour to go before it’s ten. Then he remembers Castiel telling them he’d come here to access the Internet.

“Say, I can use your wifi, right?”

“You’re a paying customer, so yes, you can. Today’s password is…”

Rather than saying it, Crowley takes a piece of paper from under the cash register with scribbles on it.

“Easier to just write it down,” he explains as he slides the paper toward Dean, who takes it and lets out an impressed whistle.

“You weren’t joking,” he says as he read the string of nonsensical characters. “Thanks,” he adds as he puts it on the tray with his coffee and pie.

He goes to sit next to the window and takes his new phone out of the bag to check it out. He’d been able to recuperate his sim card, so nothing’s really lost, but he still feels the need to download some stuff. And okay, what he really wants is download a game to play while he waits for Krissy to show up.

He downloads what looks like the most mind numbing thing he can find. It turns out to be not only quite strategic, but highly addictive as well. So when the second chair at his table scrapes the floor, he’s startled and looks up to see Gabriel now sitting with him.

“Hey, there, bucko,” the man says, not a drop of sympathy in his eyes. So, he knows.

“Hey yourself, Gabriel,” Dean answers with a tentative smile. It doesn’t help.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again. Actually kind of hoped I wouldn’t. Mostly for your sake.”

“I’m not your enemy, Gabe. I swear. My boss told me to leave, but I refused. I’ve been suspended and decided to stay ‘cause I wanna help Cas.”

“By having him arrested? Is that how you think you can help?”

“I didn’t arrest him, it was my partner.” Great job, Dean… throw your best friend under the bus. “I mean, she said they have more evidence… new stuff.”

“What is it?”

“They won’t tell me, so I don’t know. I’m sure it’s crap, though. Cas didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Of course, he didn’t.” Gabriel leans back in his chair and sighs. “Why did you have to go and do this, Dean? We welcomed you with open arms, man.”

“I know, and I’m real grateful about that. But you know what I found in your house, right? Did anyone tell you?”

Gabriel shakes his head, never looking away from Dean.

“Don’t think I should tell you what I found, but Cas confirmed most of it was his. In a room nobody else has a key to.”

“You know it’s easy to pick a lock, right?”

“I do, but whoever would do this took time to lock pick it again to lock it because Cas says he’s never found the door unlocked.”

“There you go… you got your explanation. Why arrest him?”

“Like I said, I’m told new evidence has been found. And I won’t know what it is unless Cas tells his lawyer that I can know.” Dean debates internally as to how much he can tell Gabriel. Because, clearly, someone at the house has to be gunning for Castiel, which pretty much means that everyone’s back on the suspects list. Except his guts are telling him Gabriel’s not the guy, and his guts are never wrong.

“I had Cas call my brother,” he eventually says. Gabriel gives him a confused look. “My brother, Sam. He’s a lawyer. Had my partner insist that Cas talked to a lawyer because he didn’t want to at first. Says being innocent should mean that he doesn’t need one.”

“That’s when you need one the most,” Gabriel provides, to which Dean agrees with a hum. “Can’t your brother tell you what’s going on, then?”

“Nope. He’s very much by the book and he won’t say a word unless Cas says he can.”

Gabriel nods, but stays quiet as he gets up to go get himself a coffee. They still don’t speak after he comes back, him too with some kind of pastry.

“So… what’s your name?” Gabriel asks when he’s done with his pastry. “James? Freddy? Marshall?”

“Marshall?” He chuckles. “No, my name’s Dean, just not Dean Smith.”

“Alcoholic?”

Dean shakes his head.

“Gay?”

This time, Dean can’t bring himself to shake his head. He can’t nod either, so he shrugs, a contrite smile on his lips. “To be determined?”

“The late bloomer kind of bisexual, maybe? You know, a little bit of dick, a little bit of twat.”

Dean raises an eyebrow at Gabriel before shaking off the mental image. “Maybe… anyway, this has nothing to do with anything. And I’d rather not say too much about myself.” Dean chuckles again. “Pretty sure I don’t have a job anymore, so maybe it wouldn’t matter anyway.”

“They’d fire you over that?”

“Let’s just say that my personal file’s not as squeaky clean as it could be.”

“Three strikes, you’re out?”

“Yeah, something like that. Except in my case, it’s more like the fifth strike. They’ll probably offer me the most boring of desk jobs because they know I won’t take it. And then it’s goodbye severance package.”

To be honest, Dean doesn’t mind all that much to be losing the bonus he’d get if he were to be fired. No, what he’d miss is the people he’s been working with for years. He’d probably see most of them outside of work, but he knows how that job tends to separate you from real life. Apart from Lisa who’s undoubtedly met the most understanding man in the world, nobody in his unit is married to anything but their job.

“I’d say no to that too,” Gabriel provides, pulling Dean out of his own mind. “Only desk job I’ve ever been good at is when I used it as a prop.”

They both laugh at that, Dean with a clear memory of some clips he’d seen starring Gabriel. And a desk. And some really gorgeous busty lady.

“You’re still in contact with some of your old castmates?”

“What? Want me to hook you up?”

“No, I’m just wondering. I mean, I’ll likely be jobless soon and I was thinking about my own team. ‘Fraid I might lose touch with most of them.”

Gabriel nods in understanding. “If you guys really are friend, then it shouldn’t change a thing. You just won’t see each other as often. My line of work wasn’t all that great to make friends. I only kept in touch with this one dude, a regular costar of mine. You might have seen stuff with us in it? Called himself Baldur. Dark hair, bedroom eyes… we did a lot of threesome shoots with Kali.”

“Oh yeah, I remember her. She’s hot! So, you and that Baldur dude, were you—I mean—were you together?”

“Romantically? Nah… I loved the guy, I really did, and we had great chemistry, but I’m not into dudes that way. I could fuck ‘em and let ‘em fuck me, no problem, but there’s no way I could do the relationship thing with a man. Girls are what really do it for me, you know?”

“You guys are still friends?”

“Maybe we’d still be if he wasn’t dead. Loved him, but he was one of the dumb ones so hungry for cash that he’d go bareback with anyone, for any production company. Didn’t matter that they were sketchy. Pretty sure you can guess what happened to him.”

“HIV?”

“Nah, man… he got hit by a bus!” Gabriel says before throwing his head back in laughter. It lasts for a couple of minutes, until the chuckles die down. “I laugh now, but I was devastated at the time. You’re right, AIDS is what killed him because he was too damn stupid to bother with the meds and take care of himself,” he says, bitterness clouding his voice. “Lovely guy, but dumb as a fucking brick. Made me fear for my own life with all his crap.”

He then looks up at Dean and squints. “Why am I telling you this?”

“Asked if you kept in touch with some of your old costars,” Dean provides.

“Oh, yeah… so there you go, he was the only one.”

They stop talking, Dean unsure of what to say. He’s about to go and offer his condolences, even though it’s apparently been years since the guy died, but he’s distracted by the rattling of the bell over the door.

A young brunette with a backpack walks in, making a beeline for the counter. When she goes to walk behind it, Dean means to get to his feet. He doesn’t have time before Crowley stops her, talking to her in a low voice and pointing at Dean. She turns around to set her deep brown eyes on him.

She comes to stand next to the table. “Crowley says you asked for me? Do I know you?”

“No, you don’t. I—”

He glances at Gabriel. “Could you give us a minute?”

Gabriel rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say, Dean-bug. Got a hot date with an even hotter redhead anyway,” he announces, then hollers “Hey, Fergus… goin’ up to see your mom!” He sings that bom chicka wah wah song as he disappears in the kitchen with Crowley glaring at him.

“So?” Krissy tells Dean, impatient. “You’re gonna tell me what the hell you want or—”

Dean pats the table so she’ll sit with him. “I’m Agent Bradbury’s partner… I have a couple of questions to ask you.”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Understanding dawns on Krissy’s face the second she hears Charlie’s name. It’s all it takes for her to put her backpack down and sit with Dean. When she speaks, it’s in a low voice, knowing whatever they need to be talking about isn’t for all to hear… especially not her boss.

“What’s going on? I was just at the station. Did Agent Bradbury forget something?”

Dean shakes his head, keeping an eye on Crowley who’s feigning not doing the same to them.

“Look, I don’t think here’s the best place to talk. Could we meet somewhere else later? What time do you get off work?”

“I could go back to the station after my shift.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Dean sighs. “Look, I’ve been taken off the investigation, but I really wanna help Cas. I’d like to ask you some questions. Charlie told me you actually seem to like Castiel?”

“I do… I mean, it’s not like I know the guy, but yeah, I do. Anna… Anna really liked him, you know? She’d say she only was alive thanks to him and now Agent Bradbury tells me Castiel’s accused of killing her. I don’t believe it for one second, but she swears she has evidence.”

A loud throat clearing echoes in the empty cafe. The both turn to see Crowley scowling at them and tapping the dial of his watch.

“I really have to go, but yeah, I’ll meet you. Where?”

“I’d say we can go to my hotel, but Charlie has a room there too. I’d rather she didn’t know I’m talking to you, not yet.”

“Come to my place then.” Krissy takes out a pen from her bag and writes her address on a paper napkin. “I usually get home around four. Works for you?”

“Just like that? Not even asking to see my credentials or nothing?”

Putting the pen back in her bag, Krissy smirks at him. “Pretty sure you’re who you say you are, mostly because I haven’t told anyone about your partner. Also, I know taekwondo and I own a gun. You should be worrying about yourself if you think of trying anything with me. See you later,” she adds with a wink before making her way to the kitchen, giving Crowley a friendly slap on the shoulder as she walks by him.

“She’s feisty that one,” Dean says as he goes back to the counter to give Crowley the tray with his empty cup and plate. “I like her.”

Crowley takes the dishes and huffs. “So you like them quite young, do you?”

“It’s not like that, I’m with someone.”

Dean gasps, surprised by his own words. “I mean… she’s not my type. I’m not with anyone. He’s not—” Shut the fuck up, Winchester. “Gotta go,” he says in a stammer before turning around and leaving the café.

“What the hell’s wrong with me?” he says out loud as he makes his way back to the hotel, ignoring the curious looks he gets in return. As he walks, he takes his phone out to call his brother.

“Sam! I need your help.”

“It’s not like you’re interested to know how I’m doing, are you?”

“I am, but later… did you leave yet? Are you on your way here?”

“Catching a plane later this afternoon. Why?”

“Can you bring some of my stuff? You know, my wallet, some of my real clothes and—”

“If you dare ask me to drive your car down, I’m never talking to you again.”

“Even though I think planes are the worst invention in the world, I’d never let you drive my Baby all the way here. No, I just need my stuff ‘cause I might be here for a bit. I don’t even have cash or credit cards and Charlie won’t be here forever. Can you do that for me?”

“That’s it? Wallet and clothes?”

“Fill my gray luggage, it’s in my bedroom closet. Also, add my toiletries to that… I haven’t had a real good shave in far too long. I’ll pay for whatever extra they might charge you.”

“All right… anything else you need?”

“Bring my laptop and phone too, they’re also in my bedroom, with the chargers… if anything else is missing, I’ll buy it. Just haul your ass up here, okay? What time do you get in?”

“Supposed to land in Burlington around eleven tonight, then it’s gonna be another hour before I get to Montpelier. Booked a room at the Plaza.”

“That’s where I’m staying. Charlie is too.”

“It’s pretty much the only hotel in town. The nicer one, anyway. Wanna meet for breakfast?”

“I’ll meet you when you get here, dude. I’ll be in the lobby waiting for your gigantic ass.”

“Come on, Dean… I’ll be tired as hell, let’s meet in the morning, all right?”

“I always forget what a delicate little bitch you are.”

“I, on the other hand, can never forget how much of a jerk you are! See you in the hotel’s restaurant at eight, all right?”

“Eight it is! Have a safe flight.”

Having nothing to do until he’s supposed to meet Krissy, Dean finds the will to call Charlie and beg her to lend her the dockets she brought, something he himself hadn’t been able to do. He almost has to promise her his soul so she’ll accept, lying through his teeth when she asks if he’s doing his own investigating.

But she knows him, and he knows that, and he knows she knows he’s lying. Still, she calls the front desk to tell them they can indeed give Dean a key to her room. Which is how he can spend most of the afternoon reading through the files. He plows through it all in record time, then reads Charlie’s own notes for the first time.

He can’t help being frustrated to see there’s nothing new pertaining to Castiel in her files. He kind of hoped he could have learned about those new hush hush evidences, but no dice. The latest notes he finds are about Krissy Rogers and he already knows everything. He puts everything back in the docket, dispirited.

He still has an hour to go before having to meet Krissy and he spends half of it thinking back to everything he’s seen and might have not told Charlie. He can’t find anything weird, the only bad feeling he gets is how much he screwed Cas over by not completing the work on the barn. Which is why he finds himself stopping at Garth’s store on his way to Krissy’s place.

“Well, well, well… didn’t think I’d ever see you again, hombre,” Garth says. He still sounds amicable enough, so maybe he doesn’t know anything. “The beams have been delivered Friday morning.”

“Great, thanks… except I won’t be able to finish the barn.”

“I know.”

“It still needs to be done, though.”

“Yeah, it really does.”

Dean scoffs, shaking his head. “I wanna make sure it’ll be done. Do you know anyone who could take over and do this for Cas? You can bill me, it’s no problem.”

“It’s already taken care of, Dean. When you got hit by that car, Castiel called me to ask just that. Asked me to find somebody to finish the work. You don’t need to worry about that no more.”

“Who’s gonna do it?”

“I will… know my way around a hammer and a drill, so why not. Plus you kinda told me all you wanted to do, so I’m gonna work on that this week while my wife handles the store.”

“Good, that’s great. Thanks, Garth, I really mean that.”

“I know.” Garth gives him a nod and a smile, and just for a second, Dean feels a little bit better. He waves the man goodbye, but before he can leave, Garth speaks again.

“Dunno if you remember what I told you when we first met,” he says as he comes to stand closer to Dean, who shakes his head no. “Told you you were good people, that I could tell already.” Dean swallows, convinced he’s just about to be chewed out for being an asshole to Cas.

“Even with what’s going on at the house and Castiel getting arrested, it doesn’t change that. I still think you’re a decent guy, proof in the fact that you wanna make sure the barn is taken care of. It’s not just a job for you, is it?”

“Nothing special either,” Dean says, then winces; it’s not the whole truth. “Not at first anyway. How do you know about what’s going on?”

Garth shrugs, still smiling. “Was supposed to start working on the barn this morning, but Hannah called. She didn’t go into details, but she did say Cas was in jail because you’re an FBI agent and the property’s getting raided. Said I shouldn’t bother coming in today. I hope tomorrow’s gonna be okay.”

The sense of shame that washes over Dean is something new. He’s never bothered about what happened to the people he’d investigated before. Mostly because they usually were guilty and all Dean ever felt was a deep sense of accomplishment.

“It wasn’t me, Garth. I don’t think Cas is guilty, at all. I’ve been suspended, pretty sure I’ve even lost my job.”

“Well, that’s a shame. I’d say you were good at what you did, never even once thought you weren’t who you said you were.”

Dean almost rolls his eyes at that. “So, tell me Garth, you like Cas, don’t you?”

“Of course I do… what’s not to like?”

“Somebody out there has it out for him. Is there anyone at the house you think could hate him?”

“Hate Castiel? What the hell for?”

“I don’t know man, just asking out of curiosity. Humor me… just like that, does anyone strike you as odd? Or might not be who they say they are?”

“I haven’t met everyone, so it’s hard to say. Of those I met, maybe that dude that calls himself Lucifer? Only met him once, for a short minute. I guess I’m mostly weirded out because of the name. I mean… who’d go an choose to be called by the devil’s name?”

“I see. It’s okay, just thought I’d ask.” Before Garth can say anything against it, Dean goes to the counter and grabs a stray piece of paper. He writes the number of his ‘work phone’ and gives it to him. “This is my number. Use it if you remember anything. Oh, and could I ask you not to tell anyone I’ve talked to you? I’m supposed to stay clear of the investigation, but—”

“I got your back, amigo. Don’t worry about it. If I think of something, I’ll let you know for sure. And I won’t tell anyone I saw you.”

Like he’d done before, Garth comes into Dean’s personal space to hug him, giving him two hefty claps in the back before letting him go. “You’ll get your man back, hombre. I’m sure you will.”

Dean can feel his face grow warm as he exits the store, the chill of the outside air like heaven on his heated skin. He looks at his watch to see he’s already late for his meet up with Krissy. Running is not an option right now, but he’s able to walk in a brisk enough pace to be pressing the doorbell a mere ten minutes later. She opens the door, looking somewhat frustrated.

“Was starting to think you stood me up,” she says, letting him inside. The apartment is small and a bit cluttered, but clean.

“Nice place you got there,” he says as he moves her coat from the armchair so he can sit.

She scoffs at him before disappearing behind a rainbow beaded curtain. She soon comes back with two cans of diet cola and hands him one. “So, what do you wanna know?” she asks as she pops her own can open and sits on the small couch. “Told everything I knew to your partner, I’m not sure what I could say that you don’t already know.”

“I just have a couple of questions, some stuff I’d like you to clarify.” He takes a sip and waits while she does the same. “So… Charlie told me what you said, also read her report earlier today. You told her that you wanted to go live at Paradysum, did you?”

“Yeah, that’s why I came down here. I mean, why else would I move here, you know?”

“And he refused?”

“Yeah… like I told your partner, I get why he’d say no. I mean, you know about my dad, right?”

Dean only nods, urging her to continue.

“So yeah, my dad killed his wife and kid… of course Castiel won’t wanna have anything to do with me. And I’m okay with that.”

“Why didn’t you go back to live with your uncle, then?”

“Don’t like him all that much and it’s mutual. Which is kind of why I hoped Castiel would let me live with him and his friends, you know? He’s lost a daughter, I lost a father… well, I lost a mother too, but… anyway… we could have been good for one another. Seems he didn’t feel the same way.”

“Charlie also told me you defend him and his friends against whatever crap Reverend Boyle says?”

“Yeah, but it’s not just about Castiel or Paradysum. I mean, Buddy Boyle is a bigoted coward. All he does is talk shit about stuff and it’s his followers that spread the hate around town. According to that douchebag, if you’re not a white and hetero Christian, you’re scum.”

“Do you think anyone in his flock could decide to go and hurt people on his behalf?”

Krissy pouts and shrugs. “I don’t know… maybe. It’s not like I know any of them personally. Me and my friends, we try to talk to them, have some sort of dialogue, but they mostly brush us off. Mind you, it never gets violent, but it’s not all that friendly either. I think it’s only worked once that someone came out of the church and really listened to what we had to say. Not that it did much good, the lady kept going to the sermons and never spoke to us again.”

Dean takes a minute to drink, using the downtime to think about everything he’s read in the file.

“Tell me, Krissy,” he says after a while. “So you left your uncle’s home to come and live with Cas at Paradysum, right?”

She squints. “That’s what I said, yeah.”

“Okay, tell me this, then… how did you know this place existed? From what I know, it’s pretty much of a word of mouth kinda thing, ain’t it?”

“It is, but I’m sneaky, always have been.” She smirks at him. “I’ve tried to keep track of Castiel as much as I could. When I got old enough to do so, of course. Google helped a whole lot.”

“I didn’t check, but I’m pretty sure you can’t go and book a stay online.”

“Of course not, but I knew Castiel’s real name, James Novak. His family’s kinda famous too, so that helped. I got obsessed about finding him early in my senior year. We had this history assignment to do, something about family trees and stuff. Didn’t remember much about my dad since my uncle would never speak of him. All I knew is that he had died in prison the year before.

Anyway, I learned a lot while looking up my dad. Learned about the accident, Jimmy Novak, his family, the passing of his parents, the crap with his brother Michael… everything. It kinda became my side project, you know? I found out about Castiel real easy, it’s right there on the web. Not sure about the context anymore, though… some dumb expose article about how one of the Novak’s heirs had gone green and was now harvesting honey in Vermont, if I remember correctly. It all lead me here.”

“And that was, what… five years ago?”

“Almost, yeah…”

“Charlie also told me you were at Harvelle’s the night of the fire?”

For the first time, Dean sees Krissy’s contenance be shaken. She visibly bristles at the question and has to take a couple of deep breaths before speaking again.

“Yeah, I was.” As she speaks, she pulls the right sleeve of her sweater up. What Dean had seen on Castiel’s back is nothing compared to the scars adorning Krissy’s arm. “It goes up to the shoulder and some of my chest got burned to,” she explains, moving her other arm around to show where the burns are under her clothes. “I thought my time had come, and then Cas was there, taking me in his arms to whisk me outta there. Just like Anna, I owe him my life.”

“I thought you didn’t know him.”

“I wouldn’t say him pulling me from a fire counts as a meeting. It’s not like we took a minute to chat.”

“You don’t know him…” Dean repeated, mostly for himself. “You told Charlie he refused to welcome you at Paradysum. Means you’ve met him at least once, didn’t you?”

Krissy shakes her head before taking another sip of her cola. “I didn’t get to. I went to the house and then this girl met me at the gate and I asked for Castiel. She said he was busy and asked me what I wanted.”

“Did you tell her?”

“Of course… told her who I was and how I wanted to atone for my father’s sins.” She blushes. “I really talked like that at the time, I was such a dweeb.”

Dean is getting impatient, but he doesn’t dare pushing her. So he waits, mentally urging her to keep going.

“Anyway… she kinda made a face, you know? She knew who I was and she wasn’t happy to see me there. At some point, I even thought she’d punch me or something. Then she said Castiel didn’t wanna have anything to do with me. That he never would, not after what my father did.”

“And you went away? Just like that?”

“What else could I have done? Charge in and demand that he spits in my face himself? I still had a bit of pride in me, you know.”

“Who was it? Who’s the woman who told you to leave?”

As Krissy goes for another sip of cola, Dean is tempted to slap it out of her hand so she’ll talk instead. Again, he doesn’t, and waits some more.

“It’s not like she introduced herself, and I didn’t ask. Didn’t feel like hanging around much longer, you know?”

“What did she look like, then?”

“Tall… taller than me, I mean. Normal tall for a girl, I guess. Brown hair, shoulder length I think.” She snaps her fingers. “I saw her again at Billy Boyle’s church, a couple of years ago. At first I thought it was weird, but then I thought she might have been checking up on him, see what he says about Castiel, you know? She was chatting with some of the others church goers and I think I heard someone call her… hmmm…”

“Call her what, Krissy?”

Dean is about to lose it when Krissy snaps her fingers again.

“Caroline! They called her Caroline!”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Dean finds his brother already seated in the restaurant when he walks in a bit before eight the next morning. He’s immersed in his reading and eating some kind of granola cereal with berries, like the nerdy green giant that he is.

It’s too tempting for Dean to come and slap the table as he yells “Sammy!”, making his little brother jump in his own skin. When Sam looks up to send him one of his signature aggravated looks, Dean just laughs and goes to sit across him.

“Good morning, Sammy… good to see you,” he says, beaming. It’s enough for Sam’s mood to lighten up a bit, still he makes a point to roll his eyes before responding.

“Yeah, wish I could say the same,” he says, not without warmth in his voice. When Sam notices his brother going for the stack of paper, he places a hand on it. “Not yours to read, Dean,” he warns, electing to put everything back in his messenger bag.

“You know I wouldn’t tell anyone if you let me take a look, right?” Dean counters as he peruses over the menu instead.

“I know… has nothing to do with you, it’s just the way it is.”

Dean nods, because he already knows that. Doesn’t make it less frustrating. He waits until the waiter has come to take his order before speaking again.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like you to ask Cas that I be included, okay?”

“I can ask, there’s nothing against that.”

“Good, because I found out some stuff.”

Sam purses his lips again and shakes his head. “Dean…”

“Just listen for a sec, all right? I went to see Krissy Rogers and we had a little chat.” Dean raises his hand so Sam won’t interrupt him. “It’s good, I swear… dunno what you got in those files of yours, but when Charlie talked to Krissy, the girl said Cas had refused to let her come stay at Paradysum.”

“Yeah, I saw. And?”

“Well, he didn’t… it was Hannah who turned Krissy away, not Cas.”

“Doesn’t mean it didn’t come from him.”

“It may be so, but I know the guy, Sam. I can’t imagine him ever being mean to anyone, especially not a kid. What her father did, it has nothing to do with her. You’re seeing Cas today, right?”

Sam nods as he chews on a spoonful of cereal.

“Ask him, okay? Ask him if he knows Krissy came to see him and was turned away.”

“What if he knows? What if he really doesn’t want anything to do with her?”

“Then I’ll be wrong and I’ll stop looking… but I swear I’m not.”

“Explain me this, then: How can Hannah telling Krissy to hit the road help Castiel’s case?”

“Because it’d mean that Hannah’s not being honest. Krissy told me she saw her at one of Billy Boyle’s sermons a couple of years ago. Said someone called her Caroline.”

“Who’s Billy Boyle?”

“Some kind of bigoted preacher type dude in town that likes to say shit about Cas. Well, him and pretty much everybody else that’s not white, hetero, and Christian. According to Krissy, anyway.”

“And Krissy’s sure it was the girl she saw at the house?”

“Pretty much, yeah… plus, it’s in the files; Hannah’s real name is Caroline Johnson. Pretty sure Krissy wouldn’t know that.”

Sam nods, pushing his empty bowl away before drinking some of his coffee. “What you’re saying is that Hannah, or Caroline, could be the one framing Castiel? Aren’t they cousins or something?”

“She’s Castiel’s cousin, yeah… don’t think it changes anything. Not all families are as tight as we are, dude.” He offers his brother a crooked smile. “Since when do you call him Castiel?”

“He asked that I do… and since he’s the client, I complied.”

Dean’s steak and eggs is set on the table at that moment. Unlike the morning before, Dean is starving and he starts plowing through his breakfast at an unbridled pace.

“D’you bring my stuff?” he asks between mouthfuls, making his brother purse his lips yet again.

“It’s in my room, we can go get it when you’re done here.” He looks at his watch and frowns. “Actually, I’ll go get it while you finish your breakfast… gotta be in court for Castiel’s bond hearing at nine and I still have to meet with him.”

Without waiting for Dean to respond, Sam walks out of the room in long strides. Once alone, Dean looks down at his plate. The half eaten steak and fixins are enough for a wave of nausea to hit him. He pushes the plate away and bunches his napkin over it. He closes his eyes, needing to take a couple of cleansing breaths so what he swallowed will stay down.

It does.

As he waits for his brother to come back with his luggage, Dean fiddles with his phone, tempted to call Charlie. He wants to tell her what he’s learned, even though he’s sure it won’t help; anything that comes from him will be discarded and he knows it. Still, if he manages to convince her to talk to Krissy again, she’ll have grounds to look deeper into Hannah’s backstory.

He thumbs through the phone and waits as the ringing resonates in his ear. He’s soon sent to voicemail and he curses under his breath, worried Charlie could have decided to ignore him like he did her the day before.

“Hey, Charlie, it’s me… gotta tell you something, it’s important, all right? Please call me back as soon as you can.”

With a sigh, Dean hangs up and sets the phone on the table. He scowls at it, hoping it’d be enough to make it ring. It doesn’t and when Sam comes back with the suitcase, Dean grabs his arm to make sure he’ll listen to him some more. “Left a message to Charlie… not sure if she’s dodging my calls or what, but when you’ve talked to Cas, can you tell her about Krissy and Hannah?”

“Dean, I’m Castiel’s lawyer. Showing the FBI my cards now would be the dumbest things I could—”

“Castiel shouldn’t have to go to trial, he did nothing wrong. He won’t go through that crap if Charlie just knows to keep digging.”

Sam gets out of his brother’s hold and sits back down. “Dean, there’s other stuff, too… stuff I can’t tell you about. Even if Hannah is somehow mixed up in all of this, there’s still—it’s gonna take much more than that, okay?”

“Please? I don’t want Cas to suffer ‘cause of my mistakes. Plus, the accusation came way too quickly, looks real fishy to me. Even Charlie seemed to think it was too good to be true.”

“All right, I’ll try and have a chat with her. But you gotta promise that you’ll stop doing what you do. If Castiel is as innocent as you say he is, then we’ll be able to prove it. You just gotta be patient.”

As he gets up to leave, Sam gives his brother’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Just go get some more sleep, man… you look awful.”

“You—you look awful… bitch!”

It doesn’t matter that Dean really could have used a nap. More important things needed to be done and he couldn’t count on anyone but himself at that point. As he tries to scour the Internet in search of anything that could help, he considers at least a dozen time calling Kevin to ask him to look stuff up.

Dean kind of knows his way around a computer, but the kid is a sorcerer. He can find the things nobody else would ever find. Dean also knows Kevin’s still too much of a rookie to go behind Bobby’s back, no matter how nicely Dean asks. The kid has been with them for just a little over two years, he’s not yet at the stage where he’d consider risking his career for anyone.

Dean is about to give up when he gets hit with what could be the worst idea he’s had so far. He signs onto his Skype account, praying that the guy that was Kevin before Kevin would be online. That’s if he’s still alive.

He sighs in relief when he sees Frank Devereaux’s Skype handle pop up in his active contacts. He doesn’t think twice before hitting the call button.

Dean’s former colleague’s face soon appears on screen, accompanied by a rough “Whaddaya want?”.

“Hey, Frank… Dean Winchester, here. How you doin’?”

“Pretty sure you didn’t call to know how I’m doing… spill. No! Wait! Lemme call you back1”

Franks doesn’t wait for Dean’s assent and terminates the call. It takes long enough that Dean starts wondering if he’s been tossed aside like garbage. When the Skype melody echoes in the room, Dean answers immediately.

“Should know to secure the lines, boy,” Frank says in greeting. “Now, we can talk.”

Dean is very tempted to roll his eyes, but doesn’t. Frank Devereaux has always been kind of prickly and anything could set him off. That was only one of the many reasons he hadn’t been able to stay long enough to cash his retirement checks from the Bureau.

“I need to find some stuff about some people, but I’m no computer wiz. Think you can help?”

“What’s this? A sting? You trying to make me do illegal stuff so you can arrest me later?”

“Frank, come on! You know me better than that. You know you can trust me, right?”

“Nobody can ever trust no one, boy… I don’t even trust myself, so imagine how I trust you.”

“I swear I’m not trying to trick you, Frank. I’m—I’ve been suspended from my current investigation, but something’s not right. The guy they arrested—”

“James Novak…”

Dean gapes at Frank. “How the fuck do you know about that?”

“I’m one of the many ghosts still roaming around in the Bureau… not that they know that.”

“And you’re telling me?”

“Telling you ‘cause I got enough crap on you that I’m sure you won’t wanna say a word to anyone.”

“You’re bluffing…”

The smirk on Frank’s face has a bitter edge to it. He leans toward the camera, to a point where Dean can almost count the little hairs sprouting from his nostrils.

“Your brother, Sam. Nineteen-ninety-nine. Detroit…” he says in an ominous tone before leaning back again.

Dean swallows. Detroit… that means Frank probably knows about Sam and what happened to him and that Nick guy. He glares at the screen, tempted to start asking questions, but he knows he better leave it alone. If Frank had wanted to spill the beans, he would have done it already. Still, this is a story that can never get out, if only for Sammy’s sake. It would ruin his life.

“Gotcha… thanks for keeping this to yourself, Frank.”

“Don’t thank me, it’s a great bargaining chip. Now tell me what you need and I’ll tell you how much it’ll cost.”

“You’re charging me?”

Frank’s face fills up the whole screen again. “What? You think I’m in the business of charity? I work, I get paid, that’s how life works.”

“Fine. I need you to look up a woman named Caroline Johnson. She’s related to the Novaks.”

“The New York Novaks, I presume? Like James?”

“Yup, cousin to both Michael and Cas—James Novak. I need everything on her.”

“Dunno what you’re looking for, do you?”

“Something like that. I know something’s up with her, I just can’t say what.”

“All right, easy enough. Anything else?”

“That’s it for now. Depending on what you find, I might have more for you.”

“Guess you’d like this back quickly?”

“You know it.”

“It’s gonna be two thousand buckaroos… payable in advance.”

“Two thousand? Jesus, Frank, I thought we were friends!”

“That’s the rate for friends and family, not that I have much of either one. Otherwise, it’s three thousand. Wanna opt out?”

This time, Dean does roll his eyes and huffs. “Nah, it’s good… two Ks it is. So what, Paypal or—”

“Moron,” Frank spits before the computer screen turns black.

“Dick!” Dean responds, at a loss at what he should be doing now. Soon, the screen comes alive again, bright green text appearing on black.

Transfert made. Thank you for your business. F.

The computer goes dark again, this time shutting down without Dean ever touching it. That guy’s a wizard , he marvels as he starts up his computer again. A scary fucking wizard.

First thing he does when it’s back on is go to check the balance of his bank account. It’s right there, a new transaction from only minutes ago; two thousand dollars transferred to—

“Mistress Magda Adult Entertainment Co.?” he blurts out. Of course Frank would have disguised his illicit business as porn. And, well… anyone who knows Dean even a little bit wouldn’t be surprised to find such an item on his shopping list.

“Asshole!” he still says out loud, hoping Frank can hear him. Mostly because it should be in good taste to be offended about something like that.

Not that he is… porn’s great!

After spending a couple of hours actually looking up porn – he hadn’t done that in far too long – Dean’s personal cell phone starts ringing. He grabs it from where he had set it to charge to see his brother’s name on the screen.

“Sam! What’s happening? How did it go with Cas?”

“Hello, Dean…”

Dean sucks in a breath. It’s Castiel and he sounds tired, broken. “Thank God! Cas! Are you okay? Are you out?”

“I am… was able to bail myself out.” He pauses and Dean waits patiently even though he has about a million questions to ask. “Sam tells me you’re suspended?”

“Yeah… probably gonna lose my job too. Kinda mouthed off to the boss.”

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Don’t be. There’s still a sliver of a chance that everything’s gonna turn out okay when they realize I was right all along.”

There’s another pause, a longer one. Dean keeps waiting, closing his eyes to better concentrate on Castiel’s breathing, hoping they’d be close enough to touch.

“Thank you for believing in me, Dean. And, contrary to what I said before, I’m not mad. I know you were only doing your job.”

“I was… to a certain point, anyway. You know that, right?”

“How do you mean?”

“Us. Getting together. I—”

“I’d rather you didn’t say anything more, Dean. Not now.”

“But—”

“I know you mean well, but—we can’t—if they really think I’m guilty—if I—”

“Are you? Guilty?”

“Of course not.”

“Then, I won’t let it happen. Did Sam tell you what I found out?”

“No.”

Dean curses internally at his brother. He had one job… well, he has many jobs right now, but this one thing was important. “Do you know Krissy Chambers? Well, Krissy Rogers now.”

“Chambers? As in Lee Chambers?”

The sudden coldness of Castiel’s tone makes Dean wince. “Yeah… she’s his kid. Came to see you about about five years ago? She wanted to come stay at the house with you.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“She says you never met with her. If you had, would you have let her come live with you?”

“I don’t know. I would have had to meet her, but why would she want to live with us? Isn’t she just a child?”

“Early twenties now, but yeah, that’s what I thought. You wouldn’t have dismissed her because of who her father is, right?”

“Of course not. She’s not her father, I’d have no legitimate reason to think ill of her.”

“Well, Hannah thought you wouldn’t and she turned Krissy away. You swear she never said a thing to you?”

“Not a word. She knows what I went through, probably thought it’d be too difficult for me.”

“That, or she’s the one framing you. Krissy saw her going to Reverend Boyle’s sermon.”

“She’s my cousin, Dean. She probably wanted to know what the man was saying about us. He doesn’t like me very much, but you know that already.”

“I still think it smells fishy, is all. Somebody planted the stuff in that room, so it has to be someone in the house.”

“Can’t be her.”

“Who, then?”

They stop speaking once again. Dean knows Castiel must be going over everything in his mind and in no way, shape, or form is he ready to believe that any of his friends would be framing him.

“I—I don’t know, Dean. They’re my family,” he says in a trembling voice.

Dean’s own throat closes up and his eyes begin stinging with tears. He has to clear his throat to speak again. “I don’t think you should go back there,” he says, not sounding as self-assured as he’d like. “I’m staying in town until this whole thing blows over. Come stay with me.”

“No, Dean. You’re in enough trouble as it is, I can’t ask this of you.”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering. You won’t be safe at the house and I’d rather keep an eye on you.”

“It’s my home, Dean, I can’t—”

There’s some kind of crackling noise and Sam’s voice booms into the phone. “Dean! What the hell are you doing?”

“I told Cas not to go back to the house. To come stay with me.”

“Dammit, Dean! You gotta stop doing stupid stuff, you’re all but helping Castiel’s case.”

“Why didn’t you tell him about Krissy, huh? You said you would.”

“Didn’t have time before, then I figured you’d tell him anyway.”

“Guess you didn’t have time to tell Charlie either, then?”

Sam chuckles at that. Dean knows that sound and he can picture the face that goes with it; he’s smug as hell.

“I did. And she knows I didn’t come up with that on my own. She’s gonna have another chat with Krissy, but she’s begging you to butt out. And I agree with her. Butt the hell out.”

“Yeah, whatever… so, Cas called me, I guess that means I’m in. You gotta tell me what’s that big thing that proves Cas is guilty.”

“Dean…”

“Put Cas on the phone, then. He’ll tell me.”

Sam huffs, but stays on the line. “Dean… there’s a witness, all right? The guy who sold Castiel the drugs Anna took? He was arrested and he agreed to testify against him.”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

It takes a bit of work on Dean’s part to convince Castiel not to go back to the house. And even though he can’t talk him into sharing his room, he considers it a small victory when Castiel books a stay at the same hotel and agrees to come have dinner with him.

“Only dinner,” Dean had promised when Castiel hesitated, having to ignore how his appetite hadn’t been residing in his stomach at that very moment. It gets so much worse after Castiel accepted that he makes a point of taking a long shower to rid himself of all the salacious thoughts plaguing his mind. It doesn’t really work, but it kind of helps easing his nerves a little bit.

Said nerves start thrumming again when knocks are heard at the door. Dean gets up, carding a hand in his still humid hair to tame it before opening to his guest. There’s a sting in his heart when he sees Castiel on the other side; he looks awfully tired and that’s enough for Dean’s mind to crawl out of the gutter it spent the last hours dwelling in.

“Cas…” he says under his breath, taking his wrist to pull him inside. As the door closes behind him, the men come together in a tender, yet desperate hug. They stay huddled together for a while, each breathing the scent of the other one’s neck.

It’s Castiel who evades their embrace first, taking a step back to look Dean in the eye. “Thank you for the invitation,” he says, the eyes a little too shiny and red rimmed, as if he’d spent a big chunk of time crying. “I’m not used to being on my own, especially not at dinner time.”

“Just for that, you should have taken my offer to share my room.” Dean wraps an arm around Castiel’s shoulder and steers him toward the bed to sit on it. “Has nothing to do with sex or anything like that, I just wanna help.”

Good one, Winchester. Like you’d turn him away if he wanted to bone!

The sad smile Castiel gives him back is enough to kill the naughty thoughts again. “I know. I also know you want to help, Dean. I just—” he looks around the room, then back at Dean. “Would you mind if we had dinner in my room instead?”

The question brings a frown to Dean’s face. “What? Why?” And he could swear he sees Castiel’s cheeks redden a bit.

“I—I booked one of the suites upstairs? There’s an actual table and chairs, you know, if we’re going to be having dinner…”

It’s Dean’s turn to flush as he considers how it looks like he’s invited the guy for dinner in bed. “Oh… yeah, all right, good idea.”

Dean follows Castiel to the elevators, the suites only two floors above his – it’s not that big of a hotel. They don’t speak or touch before entering Castiel’s room, which is more like a studio with its kitchenette and small living room area.

“Nice,” Dean muses as he enters, trying to ignore the bed or how he’d love to be messing it up with Cas. He just can’t get rid of those damn thoughts, can he?

“Would you like something to drink?” Castiel asks, already with the mini fridge open. He takes out a couple of beers, handing him one. “You like beer, I imagine?”

“I do, thanks,” Dean confirms when he comes to takes it. “That shit’s expensive though, you might not wanna take too much crap outta that thing.”

“Thank you for your concern, Dean, but I don’t think it’s a couple of beers that will put me under,” he says. He sits at the table, popping the tab of his beer open. “So? What should we have for dinner?”

Dean shrugs, already sipping on his own beer when he comes to sit with him. “I’m not all that hungry, I won’t lie.”

“Same here,” Castiel confesses between sips. “We don’t have to eat right away,” he adds, lifting his gaze to meet Dean’s. His eyes are so dark with lust that some of Dean’s last swig of beer goes down the wrong pipe, making him cough.

“Cas?” he asks when’s he’s found his bearings, his fingers already itching to touch. Staying seated without jumping on the guy has to be one of the hardest things he’s ever done. “You okay?”

Castiel’s answer comes in him chugging his own beer before getting to his feet to crowd Dean’s space.

“Cas… don’t get me wrong, I’m all for it, but—”

“Fuck me, Dean,” Castiel says, his voice sounding at least three octaves lower. “Throw me on this bed and do what you will of me.”

Dean’s hands grabbing at Castiel’s hips is an automatic gesture. “But… you’re a top?”

“Not now, I’m not… I need this. Please…”

Castiel dipping down to claim his mouth is all Dean needs to get to his own two feet. He’s tempted to pick Castiel up and throw him on the bed like he asked. He doesn’t, instead pushing him backward as they kiss until they fall on it, tangled up together.

It doesn’t matter that Dean had kind of cleaned up his thoughts – and pipes – before meeting with Castiel, he’s still already all the way hard. Everything they do is messy, and rough, and just overly rushed. They both moan loudly as they hump each other and it’s so good that Dean is convinced nobody will get to fuck anyone before they get to blow their loads.

“Fuck me,” Castiel says again as he pushes Dean away from him to grab the bottle of lube on the side table. “Done this before?” he asks after taking his pants and underwear off, squirting some in his own hand. Dean can only look with his jaw slack as Castiel spreads the gel over his fingers, then shoves them between his legs. “Did you?” he asks again before sucking his own lower lip as he slowly pushes a first finger in his hole.

“I—I dated this chick, years ago… liked it in the ass,” Dean eventually answers, his eyes never leaving Castiel’s expert fingers as he works himself open. He licks his lips, the sight making him hungry in ways he’s never been before. He doesn’t tear his eyes away as he takes his own pants off. “You sure ‘bout this?”

The exasperated sigh Castiel should probably have made Dean laugh. Except he’s too damn aroused and all he can focus on is unwrapping the condom he took from the bedside table, hissing as he rolls it down his length. He squirts some lube over it, his eyes on Castiel’s awaiting hole as he spreads it around.

“Please, Dean…” Castiel moans. “I’m good and ready,” he adds, moving around to get on his hand and knees.

“Cas, I wanna see you, all right?” Dean says, putting a soft hand on the small of his back. “Please?”

“Anything you want,” Castiel, going back to his previous position and planting his feet on the mattress after shoving a pillow under his hips.

Dean can feel his whole body vibrating as he kneels between Castiel’s legs. He sits on his heels and grabs Castiel’s hips to pull him closer, hooking a leg over his shoulder. “Ready?” he says, holding onto the base of his dick, the head now brushing Castiel’s rim.

Castiel’s answer comes with him shifting his hips to try and spear himself onto Dean’s dick. It doesn’t work, but Dean can’t wait anymore either. And although he just wants to go to town on that ass, he refrains himself, slowly filling Castiel’s hole.

They both gasp loudly when Castiel grabs at Dean to impale himself to the hilt. “Move, you little shit!” he barks, which is almost enough for Dean to come on the spot. Instead, he growls back at him, sliding almost all the way out before plunging back in with force.

The squeaky grunt Castiel lets out is like music to Dean’s ear and he does it again, Castiel’s hand flying to his own dick to jack himself off. Dean is torn between looking down between them or drown into his lover’s dark gaze.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he manages to say after a shift of his hips pulls a breathy yelp out of Castiel.

“Again!” Castiel cries, his eyes now screwed shut.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Dean repeats, making sure to ram into Castiel the way he did before, eliciting yet another delicious noise. He keeps at it, the new angle starting to strain on his back. He doesn’t want to stop, but he’s not going to be able to keep going for long in that position either.

He still to lean over Castiel and speak against his mouth. “Ride me,” he says before wrapping himself over him to flip them around. Cold air catches onto Dean’s dick, but not for long, Castiel spearing himself again almost immediately.

“Oh god!” he almost screams when Castiel has sunken all the way down and starts pumping his hips. Castiel has both his hands under Dean’s shirt, his fingers brushing against his hard nipples. “Squeeze my—my nips, Cas—squeeze ‘em hard,” he begs, his own hands bruising on Castiel’s hips. “Please!”

Castiel doesn’t say a word and complies, bunching his fist into the meat of Dean’s chest.

“More!”

When Dean comes, it’s with Castiel pinching one nipple while biting roughly on the other one through his t-shirt. He comes with a shout, squeezing Castiel’s dick as he sends his hips upward with force. Castiel doesn’t last much longer, his mouth now softer on Dean’s nipple. As he comes down from his high, he worships Dean’s skin with open mouth kisses, bunching up Dean’s t-shirt before making his way to his mouth.

They make out lazily for some time, half dressed and sticky with Castiel’s come. Dean’s dick plops out of Castiel, making the both of them shiver. When Castiel rolls off of him, Dean can’t help the dread that builds in his gut. He turns to look at him and this time, Castiel is looking back with a smile.

“Was that okay?” he still needs to ask, doubt nagging at him.

“That was wonderful, Dean. You are wonderful,” Castiel answers in a breathy voice. “Are you hungry now?”

Dean starts laughing, both in mirth and relief. “Yeah, I could eat,” he answers, then yawns as he gets off the bed. “Burgers?” he says as he goes to the bathroom, pulling the condom off to tie it and throw it in the bin. After wiping himself clean, he comes back with a damp washcloth to find Castiel has fallen asleep.

“Guess we’re taking a nap, then,” Dean says in a hush as he gently takes Castiel’s dirty shirt off and cleans him up, then gets into bed to spoon him.

It’s the knocks on the door that wake Dean up to an empty bed. He sits up in alarm, letting a relieved breath out when he sees Castiel in a bathrobe opening the door and a hotel employee pushing a cart inside.

He waits for the man to have left before speaking.

“You got us some grub?” he asks as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “What r’we havin’?” He only hesitates for a second before getting out of bed, not minding being nude as much as he thought he would have.

“There’s a second robe in the bathroom for you, if you want,” Castiel supplies as he transfers the plates on the table. He closes his eyes when Dean comes to hug him from behind. “Ordered that one thing I’m sure we both love.”

Dean chuckles when the tin covers Castiel takes off the plates reveal scrumptious bacon cheeseburgers and fries.

“Awesome,” Dean says before kissing Castiel’s neck. He lets him go to go put on the second hotel bathrobe. When he comes back, Castiel is seated and looking at him intensely as he pops open a couple of beers.

“I also wouldn’t mind that you stayed nude, in case you’d rather do that.”

Dean chuckles and winks while sitting down. “Pretty sure you wouldn’t, you perv!”

Castiel chuckles back at him, extending a foot to rest it against Dean’s as he prepares to bite into his burger. They stay this way as they eat in companionable silence. Sometimes their gazes meet and they stare at one another without moving, forgetting their meal or the rest of the world for minutes at a time. Until they’ve cleaned up all the food off their plates and Castiel guides Dean to the loveseat.

They sit with their legs tangled together. Castiel’s warm hand sneaks high on Dean’s thigh, making him tremble. Dean’s own hand is soon carded in Castiel’s hair, grazing the skin with the pad of his fingers. They both feel that urge to touch, only not in the way they did before. The kisses they share are chaste, tender.

For the first time in maybe forever, Dean feels content. To a point where he doesn’t care that it’s a guy that’s making him feel this way. He knows he’ll probably get into some kind of panic further down the line, but he doesn’t want to think about that right now. Not while Castiel’s body feels so nice against his. He sighs as he presses himself closer to his lover and closes his eyes.

“So we’re okay now, aren’t we?”

Castiel’s voice is like a horn through the fog. Dean groans as he opens a eye. “Okay how?”

“Well… I’ve been so bad to you when we—you know—”

“Whoa!” Dean says as he leans away from Castiel, now fully alert. “What the hell are you saying?”

“When we had sex that first… no, the second time. I dismissed you. I called you a whore. I left you alone when I should have been taking care of you.”

“Yeah, you did… so? Thought we were past that.”

Castiel shrugs, wrapping his arms around himself. “I wasn’t. This is why I offered myself to you. I owed you this much.”

Dean’s mouth snaps shut, hard enough for his teeth to clatter together. Just like Castiel has done, Dean wraps his arms around himself, the surrounding air feeling ten degrees cooler. “Thought you liked me, Cas.” He clenches his jaw, averting his eyes.

“I do, Dean. What in the world could make you think otherwise?”

“The fact that you thought you owed me your ass, for starters. Sex isn’t a commodity, Cas.”

Castiel’s expression loses of its previous sadness as he tilts his head. “Isn’t it? I mean, you did use sex to get to us, didn’t you? Well… to some extent anyway. Was kind of relieved to find you weren’t really impotent.” It doesn’t matter that Castiel is giving Dean a crooked smile, his eyes are dead serious.

The coldness has started seeping underneath Dean’s skin. He swallows, getting up to grab his pants from the floor and start putting them on.

“Dean, what are you doing?”

“Going back to my room… don’t feel so much like hanging out anymore. Glad to know we’re ‘even’, though,” he says, curling mocking fingers around the word. “Wouldn’t want you to feel obligated or anything.”

“Dean—”

“You’re in good hands here, so I think I’ll just go back home. Thanks for dinner and whatever the rest was.”

Dean doesn’t even bother putting his boots back on before stomping out of the room, evading Castiel’s attempt to stop him. Instead of waiting for the elevator, Dean decides to take the stairs, worried Castiel would have time to catch up with him. If he even tried to do it, that is.

He’s back into his room in record time, letting out a frustrated growl when the door shuts close in his back. He’s about to go and call his brother when he sees the time on the screen; it’s almost one AM. Apparently, he and Cas slept more than he’d thought. He huffs and sits on the bed to start up his computer instead. He’ll book a car to drive himself back to Kansas City, then he’ll email Sam and Charlie to let them know he’s leaving.

Before he can do any of that, the Skype icon springs to life: Frank is calling him back.

“Hey, Frank,” he says when he answers.

“Ugh… you look like crap,” Frank says as a greeting, but doesn’t wait for Dean to respond. “That Caroline chick is a shady one, my friend.”

“She is? How’s so?”

“Anyone that gets a monthly allowance deposited in an account in the Cayman Islands has to be all kinds of crooked.”

“A monthly allowance?”

“Yup! Fifty big ones get transferred to her once a month… been going on for years, too. She’s got over six million dollars in there. Care to guess who’s been paying her off?”

“It’s not Cas, is it?”

“Close, but no… Michael Novak, James’s own brother. Well, not him directly, it’s through a numbered company, but it was easy enough to trace it back to him.”

“Any idea what that money’s for? Could she be blackmailing him?”

“It’s either that or she’s some kind of employee. The dough started piling up around the same time she filed a complaint to the police against her ex-husband.”

“Wasn’t he abusing her?”

“That’s what she said. I just find the timing interesting, seeing how Caroline Johnson’s husband was Michael Novak’s principal rival. They would often be bidding against one another when trying to acquire businesses. Suffice it to say, they don’t anymore. Prison isn’t all that great for conducting business.”

Dean shakes his head. “Novak would have paid his cousin to take out her own husband? Well… you know what I mean. Take him out of the game by accusing him of abuse, not killing him. Okay, let’s say that’s what happened. What does it have to do with Cas?”

“This is where it gets mighty interesting. I went a bit deeper in my research than what you paid for. Call it a freeby, since we’re such good friends and all.”

Once more, Dean stifles the urge to roll his eyes. Frank giving up something for free is something to be cherished, not mocked.

“Caroline’s mother was Naomi Novak’s sister, Rachel. Said sister lived with the Novaks for some time, not long before Caroline was born. The father info on her birth certificate? Blank. Pretty sure you can guess why that is.”

“Are you saying Caroline would be Castiel and Michael’s half sister?”

“If she isn’t, I’m prepared to set myself on fire. That’s how certain I am.”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

“This is big, man…” Dean says after taking a minute to digest the information Frank just relayed to him. “Still, it doesn’t tell us why Caroline or Michael would be trying to fuck with Castiel’s life that way.”

“That’s your job, not mine. I do have my own personal theories, though. If it interests you at all.”

Remembering how Frank has always been very much into conspiracy theories isn’t enough to stop Dean from listening to him. Even if what the man comes up with is outlandish, it could still give Dean something to work with.

“I’m all ears. Go on.”

“James Novak? I’m suspecting that all he has of his late father is the name.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m saying I don’t think Charles Novak was his birth father. Me thinks Mrs. Novak might have outsourced the baby batter.”

“Think you’re overreaching there, Frank. You’ve seen Michael Novak, right? He and Cas kinda look alike, don’t you think? They’re clearly brothers.”

“They would be sharing their mother’s DNA, if you get my drift. You’ve seen Charles Novak, didn’t you? His sons look nothing like him, they both clearly take after their mother. And, I’m no doctor, but according to James’s birth date, Charles and Naomi wouldn’t have been on the same continent when he was conceived. Your friend might just have some poor Italian chap’s blood in him, seeing as Naomi spent half of that year living it up in Florence.”

“We have no proof of that, Frank. Mr. Novak could have come to spend some time with his wife.”

“He didn’t… I checked.”

Dean huffs, rubbing at his temples. “All right, maybe that’s what happened. How does that change anything?”

Frank rolling his eyes and huffing is enough to worry Dean; is the man going to hang up and leave him hanging high and dry?

“Naomi Becket grew up poor, but she was able to snatch herself a rich man. You must know the Novaks are old money, right?”

“Yeah…”

“It isn’t so far fetched to believe Michael could have discovered the truth about James and decided he didn’t deserve his father’s fortune. He could also be trying to get complete control over his father’s company. Right now, Michael and James each hold thirty percent of the shares. The board holds the remaining forty percents. If Michael has plans that the board or James don’t agree with, he’s fucked.”

“I really don’t think Castiel cares about any of that crap.”

Dean is now rubbing his forehead, the new information swirling around in his mind. “Why try and kill Cas? Or kill people and frame it so Cas is accused?”

“Your job to know, not mine? I only give you whatever info I find… which reminds me; that new evidence against your friend? Pretty sure it’s fabricated.”

“The dealer?”

“Exactly. That tip came from way up the food chain, from Deputy Director Adler. He called S.S.A. Singer, who then called Charlie Bradbury.”

“Adler? Like… Zachariah Adler? The boss of my boss’s boss?”

“The one and the same, yeah. You’d probably like to know that he’s also a personal friend of Michael Novak.”

“He’s the one who told Bobby about the dealer, then?”

“Seems like it… if it’s not him who called, it still came from his offices. Now, how would he know about that, and why would he care? Unless it’s to help out his little friend? I also should tell you that the order to have Paradysum under surveillance came from the same place. I have yet to find real evidence in the FBI database that could have granted such an operation.”

“Son of a bitch! I gotta tell Charlie about this. Got some kind of report you can send me?”

“I already did… the file’s in your porn folder.” For the first time, a semblance of a smile is threatening to appear on Frank’s face. “You got a lot of that. Weird stuff, too. It’s almost worrying.”

“You go and worry about yourself, Frank. Porn’s nothing to be ashamed of… it’s an art form.”

Instead of answering, Frank rolls his eyes and Dean’s computer shuts down again. How the hell does he keep doing this? he wonders, restarting it.

As it powers up, he thinks back to everything Frank just said. He finds the idea of Michael Novak paying his possible half-sister to ruin his possible half-brother far fetched. Still, from the little he knows about the man, he does seem to be a real power (and money) hungry asshole. But to the point of murdering innocent people?

When his Internet browser opens back on that car rental website, Dean is glad that he hadn’t had time to book anything before Frank called. He may have told Cas he was leaving, everything he’s just learned is enough to want to stay at least another day. He goes into his emails, starting up a new message he addresses to Charlie. He doesn’t write much, only telling her not to ask where he got the new information he’s attaching to the email.

He hits ‘send’, then does it again for Sam. If Charlie will ignore him, at least Sam will know about all that new stuff and pressure Charlie to look it up. When he shuts the lid of his computer, Dean is tempted to call Castiel and ask him about Hannah, how she may be Charles Novak’s actual kid. And did he ever suspected he himself may not be related to the Novaks at all? Not by blood, anyway.

Even the brisk shower Dean takes doesn’t help ease the thoughts. He gets into bed only wearing underwear, lying on his back and incapable of falling asleep. He yawns repeatedly, because he’s tired as shit, but sleep still eludes him. Even rubbing one off in the hopes that it’ll help him sleep doesn’t do any good, his own hand not even close to being satisfying.

Dean must have fallen asleep after all, because he’s startled awake by the room’s phone. He blindly feels for the device, the ringing stopping before he can find it. He sits up on the bed, rubbing hard at his eyes before tentatively opening one. The room is dark and the glowing numbers on the alarm clock tell him it’s not even four yet. If he slept, it wasn’t for much more than an hour.

He groans as he lets himself fall backward, wondering if whoever tried to call will try again. So he waits and the next time he looks at the clock, almost another hour has gone by. He sits back up, turning on the lamp. Might as well get up if he’s not going to sleep.

He goes to his suitcase to find some clothes, only half surprised to see his brother had packed his gym clothes. He puts them on, remembering the hotel has a small health center on the first floor. Maybe running on the treadmill for a bit will help, or lifting weights. Anything to keep from going crazy over everything that’s been going on.

He heads downstairs, finding himself alone in the gym. As he runs, he keeps his eyes on the muted TV mounted on the wall. He doesn’t really care about whatever’s playing, he just needs to keep his mind busy. He’s able to do just that until Sam walks into the room, his eyebrows shooting up when he sees his older brother already there.

“Didn’t take you for the type,” Sam says as he comes to the machine next to Dean’s. “Mind if I run with you?”

“Nope,” Dean says, thinking he’ll probably stop soon anyway. He almost trips on his own feet when Sam speaks again.

“Saw your email… you know how that shit sounds, right?”

Dean shrugs as he finds his rhythm again; maybe he should have taken a closer look at the files Frank sent. Now he’s not so sure what’s in there. “Didn’t read it all the way through,” he admits, to which Sam purses his lips.

“Michael Novak trying to eliminate Castiel? Because maybe they’re not really related? Wanting to gain control of Novak Industries sounds a bit better, at least. Dunno who sent you that crap, but it sounds kinda weird, Dean.”

“Did you ask Castiel about it?”

“It’s pretty early, Dean. Woke up thirty minutes ago, twenty of them I took to read your thing. And I’m not sure I should be saying anything.”

It’s enough for Dean to pound the buttons on the machine so it’ll start decelerating. He waits until it’s come to a stop before responding.

“Why not? Don’t you think that shit’s worth investigating?”

“I’m a lawyer, Dean, not a detective. Why didn’t you send that to Charlie instead?”

“I did. I only sent it to you so you’d make sure it gets investigated. You’re his lawyer, it’s your job to make sure Cas gets out of this mess.”

Sam, who has upped the speed on his own machine, keeps looking ahead as he speaks. “The mess you put him in in the first place,” he says, breathy.

“No need to be and ass, Sam. You saw who gave Bobby the info about the dealer, right? Came from Zachariah Adler’s office. And Adler’s a friend of Novak’s. They started that shit, not me.”

Sam huffs as he presses the stop button, not waiting for the belt to slow down before jumping off. He turns to Dean, his arms crossed. “How legit do you think this is? And who gave you all that information?”

“Anything’s more credible than Castiel offing people. And I can’t tell you who my source is.”

Rolling his eyes, Sam takes a step into his brother’s personal space. “Dean, it’s me. I’m Castiel’s lawyer, it’s my job to help him. You said so yourself.” He sighs, shaking his head. “Should I understand that whoever gave you this stuff, they won’t want to testify if we need them to?”

“They won’t, this I can guarantee. I mostly asked them to look stuff up so I could tell Charlie. Her or Kevin should be able to find whatever’s in the files I gave you. They just need to look it up themselves for it to be admissible.”

“A lot of it is speculation, though, don’t you—hey… you went to Frank, didn’t you?”

“Who?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. It does make sense though… according to you, this guy was some kind of paranoid conspiracy theorist.” Sam chuckles. “You can’t be falling for his crap, can you?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean says, his voice low. “But if that’s indeed where the information came from, I still say we should check it out. Doesn’t matter that it sounds far fetched, it’s still a theory. And not a bad one, either.”

Sam nods, getting back on his treadmill. He doesn’t start it up immediately, taking a second to think with his eyes on the control panel. “You know… if this all turns out to be true, that Castiel’s not Charles Novak’s son, it may just send his whole world into a spin. Do you really think it’s worth it?”

Dean chews at his lower lip as he considers his answer. “If Michael’s indeed trying to ruin Castiel, then yeah, I’d say it is. I don’t think the news is going to break him more than going to prison would. He’s too nice, he won’t survive in there.”

“He looks pretty strong to me.”

He may know Sam is right in saying Castiel is strong, Dean just doesn’t feel like explaining how soft he also is. How it’s not Castiel’s body he’s worried about, but his soul. Prison would no doubt put a dent in that wholehearted spirit of his. And that’s not something Dean is willing to see happen. Not even if he and Cas don’t have any kind of future together.

Dean bristles at the thought: Dean Winchester, thinking of a romantic future, and with a man, no less. He shakes his head, thinking how he left things with Castiel. “Gonna go get some breakfast,” he says, clapping his brother’s back before walking away. “Talk to you later.”

“Later,” Sam answers as he starts up the treadmill again.

As he makes his way back to his room, Dean decides he should go back to Castiel’s so they can talk things out. Mostly, he wants to fight his natural urges to mess up anything good that comes his way. Whenever he started getting serious with anyone, would it be Robin in college, Lisa ten years ago, or even Cassie more recently, he always found a way to make them break up with him.

Not consciously, of course. Not really. And now that he’s met Cas, he kind of understands why none of those girls he convinced himself he kind of loved would ever be right. Not until Cas did he understand that for him, a satisfying relationship would have to be with a guy. Well… with Castiel, seeing as no other man ever made him question his sexuality even a little bit.

The realization that he actually might be gay after all makes him suck in a breath. That panic he’d been expecting earlier, as he lied in Castiel’s arms, is finally manifesting itself. He’s short of breath when he enters his room, his clothes flying everywhere as he makes his way to the bathroom.

He gets in the shower, the water washing over his skin cool enough to help temper with the heat bubbling in his veins. He thinks back to his previous relationships, how he’s wondered why he never really understood what movies went on about. He’d started believing he didn’t have a romantic bone in his body when being broken up with wouldn’t send him into a downward spiral. Things would just end, and he’d get over it in a matter of days, if not hours.

The thoughts soon swerve to the men he’d had to get close to. It had only been in the context of work, never feeling the need to get with a guy on his own time. When he needed human contact, he’d always go for the pretty girls, preferably the busty kind. His thoughts swerve again, this time to Castiel’s strong, but flat chest. He remembers the taste of the man’s skin on his tongue and he has to touch himself, his dick now screaming for attention.

As he strokes his shaft, all Dean can think of is Castiel; the roughness of his stubble, the tenderness of his lips, the iron of his grip on him, the gravelly voice he just has to submit to…

It doesn’t take him long to paint the shower wall with his come, letting out a broken cry as he does. “Cas…” Then it’s there, as clear as day… I love him , he thinks.

“I fucking love him,” he then says out loud. He had expected hearing himself say it would make him wince. It doesn’t.

It’s with a new resolve that Dean washes himself thoroughly – he has plans of the sexy kind for later – and puts on some clothes to go buy some breakfast. He could go to Castiel’s room and order in, but he wants to reciprocate that breakfast Castiel brought to the hospital. He wants pecan pie for breakfast, and he wants to feed half of it to Castiel.

He’ll go to Witch’s Brew and buy a whole pie from Crowley. Then he’ll go back to the hotel, get up to Castiel’s room, and they’ll fuck again. Before or after pie, it doesn’t matter. All Dean knows is that he wants to ride Castiel like he rode him. He wants the man he loves to fill him up real nice. He wants to feel Castiel’s come shoot inside him.

As he walks toward the cafe, Dean tries to shake the mental images away. If he doesn’t, he’s going to be walking around Montpelier with a very visible and uncomfortable boner. He starts whistling Hey Jude by the Beatles, bringing his thoughts back to a G Rating with memories of his mother singing him to sleep.

There’s a lot more people this time when Dean walks into the cafe. So maybe this place is popular after all , he ponders as he goes to stand in line with five people in business attires, only to have three more come in behind him. The other surprise comes with seeing Rowena standing at the register and barking orders at her son.

“Tall soy vanilla latte, 2 shots of espresso! Make that three shots! Medium decaf, two sugars, no milk! Pronto, Fergus!”

Crowley looks as aggravated as ever, but still works swiftly behind the counter, producing the orders at a steady pace. When it’s Dean turn’s, Rowena barely acknowledges him, only repeating his order to her son as she punches keys on the register. “Whole pecan pie and two tall americanos, black, to go!” Then, in a quieter voice, “That’ll be an even twenty, mostly because you’re an arse.”

Dean ignores the snickers the comment prompts and hands out a twenty dollar bill, not bothering to put anything in the tip jar. Arses don’t tip now, do they? He moves down the counter to the waiting area. He catches Crowley looking back at him with his brows beaded with sweat. “Couldn’t you have come later? After the rush?” he asks through the hiss and gurgles of the coffee machine.

“Didn’t think you got those.”

Crowley scoffs at him. “Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t.” He soon slides the order for the guy before Dean. “If you don’t mind waiting a couple of minutes, I’ll have to go in the back and see with Krissy if the pecans are ready.” He points to the growing line of customers. “Just have to take care of those orders first. Here’s an americano on the house while you wait.” He winks. “Just don’t tell mum.”

Dean takes the coffee and nods before going to sit at a table nearby. He’s not a fan of having to wait, but it’s still early enough and it won’t likely take all that long. Which, in hindsight, might have been a bit too hopeful of a thought.

It takes almost thirty minutes for the clientele to start dying down and for Crowley to be able to go into the kitchen. He comes back quickly, crooking a finger at Dean who gets up, wondering if he’s ever going to get his pie. “Krissy’s preparing a box for you in the back,” he says as he starts manipulating the nozzles of his machine. Again, it’s a symphony of hisses and mist as he works on Dean’s coffee order.

Krissy brings the box a minute later, giving Dean a small nod before hurrying back to her kitchen while Crowley puts finishing touches to the drinks. “Thanks for waiting, Dean. As you can see, mornings can be quite busy.”

“Yeah… that’s good. I kinda wondered how you guys held up. Never saw more than two or three people at a time here.” He slides a couple of dollar bills on the counter. Rowena may have been rude, Crowley still tried to accommodate him, so he deserves a tip.

Crowley nods at him in thanks, already busy with yet another order. Dean turns back to leave, eager to just see Castiel already. He makes his way toward the hotel at a fast enough pace, mostly worried for the rain to start and ruin their pie. He’s such in a hurry that he almost walks right into the side of the van that has come to a stop in front of him.

He’s startled when he recognizes Castiel’s old truck. “Cas?” he calls, but doesn’t have time to walk up to see the driver, the back door sliding open behind him.

The last thing he sees before a bag gets shoved over his head is the pie bursting out of its box as it crashes on the sidewalk along with the coffees.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Dean may be a highly trained FBI agent, the surprise is what makes it possible for his assaillants to subdue him. Not only is there two of them, they’re also big and strong enough to quickly pull him inside the van, bound his wrists and ankles together, and secure the bag over his head while whoever’s at the wheel speeds away.

The bind on Dean’s neck is a bit too tight, but at least the cloth bag makes it possible to breathe. And scream for help, which in hindsight wasn’t such a good idea. A strong knock on the head makes everything go black and, when he wakes up, the headache and nausea is enough to know he’s gotten himself a concussion on top of everything else.

It takes a minute for Dean to realize that he’s not in the van anymore. Wherever he’s ended up smells moldy, the ground is hard and cold, and there’s some kind of background mechanical hum. Basement, he surmises, remembering how he and Rhonda would go into the one at their highschool to make out during lunch time. It smelled exactly like this, minus the hint of strawberry shampoo and weed that always clung to Rhonda’s hair.

He tries pulling on his restraints, only to have them dig deeper into his skin. He grunts, both in pain and annoyance.

“Calm down, man. You’ll only hurt yourself.”

Dean stops moving as he tries to analyze the voice; he quickly has to admit he’s never heard it before. When he himself speaks, his voice is raw and muffled by the bag on his head.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

“It’s none of your business who we are, and we don’t want nothin’,” a second voice says, somewhat similar to the first one; brothers? “We’re just doin’ our job.”

“Your job? And what’s that? Kidnapping people to hold them in crappy basements? Did you go to college for that or—”

A boot slams him in the stomach, punching the air out of his gut. He lets out a breathy chuckle at how easy it is to rattle those motherfuckers. Which grants him with another kick, lower this time.

“You’re lucky I’m bound ‘cause otherwise, I’d be killing you both,” he says in a growl once he can breathe again. “You better make sure I never find out who you guys are, or else—”

The next kick hits him in the face, causing him to bite on his own tongue. He chuckles some more as his mouth fills up with blood, the laughter dying when he chokes and starts coughing.

“Enough!”

This time, Dean recognizes the voice.

“So it is you,” he says as the rope around his neck is loosened and the bag gets taken off his head. Dean bats his eyes to get used to the brightness and when he finally looks up, it’s to see Hannah crouching in front of him.

He glances to the side to see two men wearing ski masks standing there with their arms crossed. Yup, he’s never seen them before.

Hannah delicately grabs Dean’s chin to have him look at her instead. “I’m sorry, Dean. I wish I wouldn’t have had to do this.” She cocks her head as she wipes the blood from his face, almost looking genuinely concerned.

“Do what? Kill Anna or frame Castiel?”

A look of disgust appears on her face. “If the cops knew how to do their job properly, Anna would still be alive. Castiel should have been pinned with Flagstaff’s death years ago. Then I thought the fire at Harvelle’s would have been enough to send him away. I mean… people died, for pete’s sake! So really, the fire and Anna’s death, that’s on the Sheriff’s head, not mine!”

The more Hannah speaks, the angrier Dean gets. Not just enough to be able to bust out of his restraints, no matter how much he wishes he could do it. “What did Cas ever do to you?”

“Nothing, it’s not personal… not really.”

Hannah gets up to go drag a couple of chairs from the corner of the room. She places them face to face next to Dean’s head and snaps her fingers. The masked men come to transfer Dean onto one of the chairs, tying his limbs to it before going back to stand in the back. Hannah sits in front of him and smiles.

“Better?” she asks, to which Dean huffs.

“Do you care?”

She shrugs, taking a bottle of water from the ground. “Thirsty?”

Dean nods, parting his lips to let her pour some water in his mouth. It’s lukewarm, but still feels like heaven as it washes down some of the blood he could still taste on his tongue.

“I’m sorry my guys hit you like that,” she says after putting the bottle back on the floor. She glares at the men. “They were only supposed to keep an eye on you for me. Now I’m worried you won’t be receptive to the offer I got for you.”

“I didn’t need those gorillas pouncing on me to not be receptive to a single word you have to say. I’d say kidnapping me took care of that.”

“It’s not like you can do anything else but listen, can you? I promise, you’ll like my offer. I mean… everybody’s got a price, don’t they?”

This time, Dean throws his head back in laughter. “God, you really are a dumb bitch, aren’t you?” he says when his laughter has died down. “I got all the cash I need, sister. There’s no amount you can give me that’ll make me do anything for you. Not even six millions dollars,” he adds, proud to see a glimmer of shock in her gaze.

She lifts her chin, defiant. “So you know about that… then you must know I can get a lot more, don’t you?”

“You think that if I go and ask for ten or twenty million dollars, Michael Novak’s gonna fork the money over for you? Does he even know you’re doing this or are you blackmailing the poor son of a bitch?

It’s Hannah’s turn to laugh. “Oh, Dean… you only think you know what’s going on, but you don’t. Not really. You see, I was—” She interrupts herself, getting up to stand between Dean’s parted legs. “I’m not doing this,” she says, carding a not so gentle hand in Dean’s hair. “I’m not gonna go tell you everything about our plan while you think of ways to try and get out of here.”

Dean propels himself forward in the hopes of knocking her down. She’s quicker than him and jumps back far enough for him to fall on his face, the chair still attached to his limbs.

“That was real stupid, Dean,” she says, chuckling now. She snaps her fingers again and the men are back to pick Dean and the chair up. When she come back into his personal space, a bloody wad of spit lands on her chin. One of the guys comes to clock him on the jaw in response. It’s almost strong enough to make him tumble to the floor once more.

“This could be so easy, Dean. Easy, and painless,” Hannah says, sitting back down after wiping her face clean with some of the water and paper tissues. “Just listen to my proposal, then we’ll be able to talk. What do you say?”

“Because I have a choice?”

“No… not really. Still, you could decide to cooperate a bit more.” She pats his knee, ignoring the growl she gets back. “So, it’s like this. You don’t need to know why I’m doing all this. All you need to know is that we know stuff that you probably wouldn’t want anyone else to know.”

Dean scoffs at her. “So I like to wear silky panties… big fucking deal!”

“No need to be cute, Dean. I’m talking about your baby brother. You love him a whole lot, don’t you?”

Dread settling low in his gut, Dean swallows, really worried for the first time they took him. “He’s okay,” he answers with a shrug, very well knowing she won’t fall for that.

“He’s successful, and quite handsome too. And his girlfriend, she’s such an adorable woman, ain’t she?”

“You leave ‘em the fuck out of this! They have nothing to do with whatever crap this is.”

“Oh, but they do… didn’t your brother just take Castiel on as a client?”

“So what if he did?”

Before answering, Hannah takes Dean’s cell phone from her back pocket and shows it to him. “We’re gonna call your brother so you can tell him to drop Cas.”

“He won’t do it.”

Hannah leans forward, making sure to look Dean in the eye. “It’s up to you to convince him, then. If you don’t, he’ll lose everything he’s ever had; his career, his girlfriend, and most probably his life. I mean, could he live with the consequences of his actions once it’s…” She wiggles her fingers in the air, “once it’s out there? You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”

Dean swallows. He knows, all right. The question is, is she bluffing or does she really know?

“What is it you think you know?”

She shrugs, leaning back against the chair. “From what I heard, he killed some poor druggie, pushing him off a roof or something. Certainly the authorities will love getting his hands on him for that.” She smirks, showing him the phone again. “The sooner you do this, the sooner you’ll be set free. Can I count on you?”

Dean is tempted to set the story straight about Sam, but he knows it won’t change a thing. “I sent everything I found on you to my partner, you know. It doesn’t matter if Sam’s not defending Castiel, your ass is still toast! And letting me go’s the stupidest thing you could do.”

“Don’t you worry about me, Dean. There’s already people handling things from inside the FBI. Once your brother’s taken care of, your job will be done and you’ll wanna keep your mouth shot because, that thing we know? It’s never going away. You blab about this here? Your brother pays for it. Any of us dies or ‘disappears’? Your brother pays for it.” She grins at him, as if she just hadn’t threatened Dean’s baby brother’s life. “And no need to worry about Castiel either. He’ll have a lawyer, just not one that’s gonna be too eager to prove he’s innocent. Now, tell me… how do I unlock your phone?”

“Bite me, that’s how!”

This time it’s the other goon, the one wearing the jeans with the ripped knee, that comes to hit Dean in the face. “What’s the code?” Hannah repeats.

Even though he’s tempted to tell her to go to hell, he just doesn’t feel like getting hit in the face again. So he spits out the blood that’s been pooling in his mouth before answering, missing her foot by less than an inch. “One, nine, six, seven.”

Hannah smiles as she types the password and goes into Dean’s contact list. Before she presses the call button, she makes sure to catch his gaze again. “Remember the dirt we got on your brother, Dean. As long as you keep your mouth shut about all of this, nothing bad will happen to him, his girlfriend, or even you. That little secret of yours will never see the light of day. Are we clear?”

“Yeah, whatever. Get on with it,” Dean says in a growl, wishing he could just go and bite off the hand that’s holding the phone. He waits for Sam to answer, kind of hoping he’ll get sent to voicemail instead.

“Hey, Dean! Why didn’t you tell me you were checking out this morning? Still got some stuff we gotta talk about.”

Dean has to swallow the words threatening to spill, wondering now where his stuff’s at. He huffs as he glances up at Hannah, who winks back at him.

“Yeah, sorry. Spur of the moment kinda thing.”

“Are you on way back home?”

Dean glances up again. “Yeah, rented a car, but I’m taking my time, you know, since I kinda got sacked. I might stop by Poughkeepsie, see this old girlfriend of mine.”

As he speaks, Dean keeps his gaze on Hannah. She arches a brow, but says nothing.

“Poughkeepsie, huh? Still into this chick, then?” Sam just says.

“Yup.”

“All right. Is that all?”

“No. Look, I want you to let Castiel go.”

“I can’t do that, Dean. I gave him my word… I gave you my word.”

“I know, Sammy, but I don’t think he’s innocent anymore. Actually, I’m pretty sure he’s guilty. You shouldn’t be representing him. You’ll never work again if you do.”

There’s a slight pause on the line. Dean waits in silence, knowing Sam remembers about that whole Poughkeepsie alert thing they came up with years ago. He gave him the appropriate response, which means he’ll be calling Charlie the second they hang up.

“Are you sure you’re not just mad at Cas? You really want me to let him go?”

“I do. He’s got enough cash, he’ll find someone else real easy.”

“All right, if you say so. You know I trust you, Dean. If you say Cas is guilty, then he’s guilty.”

“Great. Thanks, Sammy. I’ll see you at home soon, shouldn’t take that long to drive down. You take care on that plane.”

“I will. Same to you, be safe,” Sam just has time to say before Hannah ends the call.

“Happy?” Dean says in a snarl, his jaw set tight.

“Very. Now all we gotta do is wait a bit for things to go back to how they should be.”

“And what is that? You getting paid to fuck your cousin over?”

“More like step-brother, but yeah.”

So Frank had been right about that, then. “Because you think that’s any better?”

“Doesn’t change a thing for me, Dean.” Hannah gets up, sliding the phone into her back pocket. “All that matters is that I finally get what I’m due. My father never bothered acknowledging me, so I deserve every bit of money I can get my hands on.”

“And you think that’s Castiel’s fault?”

She rolls her eyes. “Told you before, it’s nothing against Castiel per se. I just do what I can to get what I’m owed.”

“Pretty sure Castiel would have gladly given you all the money you wanted if you’d bothered to ask.”

“Maybe, but I get much more by associating with Michael. Castiel is too damn sweet and he wouldn’t have cared if I had tried to blackmail him. Michael fell for it in two seconds flat. That’s what happens when you’re a greedy asshole.”

“What about your husband, then? How did it help to accuse him of abuse?”

There’s an undertone of anger in Hannah’s voice when she speaks again. “That bastard really was an abusive fucker, I never lied about that. I guess I should thank him, though… had he not beaten me up to a pulp that last time, I wouldn’t have found the courage to leave. I just needed money to do it, and I found a way. The rest is history, I guess.”

Silence falls on the room, nobody saying a word until they get startled by Dean’s phone ringing. He looks up at Hannah, wondering if she’ll let him answer. She takes the phone back out to look at it.

“It says Charlie,” she says, showing him the screen. “That’s your partner, right?”

“Yeah. You gonna let me answer?”

“No… you’re supposed to be driving, you can’t really do that.”

“Thing is, I usually do. I always answer, driving or not.”

Hannah rolls her eyes. “Under a minute,” she warns before putting a finger over her lips and swiping the answer button and put the call on speaker again.

“Hey, Charlie,” Dean says, silently thanking Hollywood for Hannah’s evident belief that the call will be traced if they talk for more than a minute. If she’d known how it really works, she would have destroyed the phone a long time ago.

“Hey, Dean. Just talked to Sam, he’s going back. You told him Cas is guilty?”

“Yeah… think I kinda was blinded, you know? Fell under his spell or whatever. He’s a dangerous son of a bitch.”

Dean glances to see a satisfied smile on Hannah’s face. Damn, she’s gullible… no wonder she got duped into doing Michael Novak’s bidding . He’s kind of curious to see how far he could take this, but decides against it. Now’s not the time to play.

“I got worried, yes,” Charlie says in response. “Told our boss I suspected you had been compromised in some way. I’m glad you’re finally seeing straight again.”

For anyone who doesn’t know Charlie, they wouldn’t think there’s anything to what she’s saying. But Dean knows better and he can hear the smugness in her voice when she says the word straight. Not having the liberty to say anything snarky back is pure torture.

“Sam tells me you’re driving back home? How long is that gonna take?”

“At least three days to drive down. Taking one to go see an old girlfriend.” As he speaks, Dean can only hope she gets what he’s trying to say; at least three people holding him prisoner, in a basement, and one is a girl he knows.

“All right. You gotta go to the office the second you’re back.”

“I will. See you soon, Charlie. Over and out!”

Again, Hannah hangs up quickly, putting back the phone in her pocket after shutting it off. She takes the water bottle and shows it to Dean who shakes his head. She shrugs, putting it back on the floor.

“Can I count on you to keep quiet down here or do I have to gag you?” she asks, the two strangers looking all too eager to put their hands on him again.

“Even if I try, is there even anyone that’s gonna hear me?”

“Well, yeah, it’s the sermon soon,” one of the guys says, only to be elbowed by the other.

“Shut the hell up, Roy! He didn’t know that.”

“Roy, is it?” Dean says, startling the two men to turn toward him. “Lemme guess… we’re in Buddy Boyle’s church basement?”

Before Roy gets to respond, the other guy elbows him again. “Shut the fuck up, Roy! He’s only baiting you.”

“Damnit, Walt! Would you stop saying my name? He’s gonna know who I am!”

“Wait… Roy and Walt?” Dean says, chuckling. “Are you guys the Disney brothers? Man, when I tell my friends I was held hostage by celebrities, they’ll shit their—”

The rag that gets shoved into Dean’s mouth smells – and tastes – foul. Enough to be worried he’ll end up choking on his own vomit when Roy, the one with the ripped jeans, wraps duct tape around his face to keep the gag in place.

Once done, the two men leave the room, their steps echoing as they climb the stairs. The staircase isn’t all that far from the room he’s held in, not that it changes much of anything.

“I promise I’ll let you go, Dean,” Hannah says in too soft of a voice. “All you gotta do is be patient, okay? I wish I could make you more comfortable, but there’s nowhere else I can bring you. I’ll come back after the sermon and if you’ve been nice, I’ll give you some food and let you go to the bathroom. Deal?”

All Dean can do is glare at the woman, who smiles back at him as she pats his cheek. “See you later,” she promises, following where the men had gone. After hearing the basement door shutting closed and getting locked, Dean starts wiggling on the chair, hoping to tip it over. If he’s lucky, it’ll break or crack enough to help free himself.

The chair does tip over, but it’s too sturdy and all Dean manages to do is hit his head on the concrete. He doesn’t hit it too hard, but it’s still enough to make him see stars again. Now lying on his side and still tied to the chair, he tries to push the gag out of his mouth, without success.

It takes him about five minutes to wiggle his way toward the doorway, sweat dripping into his eyes and making the bloody scratches on his face sting. As he moved, he loosened the bindings a bit, just not enough to be able to free himself. Now his only hope resides in being able to cut through the cords by rubbing them against the door frame.

When the cord finally snaps, it’s far too soon and too easy for it to be from Dean’s efforts. He only has time to meet a set of brown eyes before his savior gets whacked over the head and falls over him.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Dean can hear the – very crappy – choir singing upstairs, hoping they’d be louder only so they’d wake Krissy up.

He’s still gagged, tied even tighter than before to that damn chair. Krissy too now is gagged and tied to the other chair, and Dean is kind of worried that she may end up choking to death with her head hanging this way.

All he can do is try and move around again, maybe hop his way toward her and bump into her legs, anything so she’ll wake up. Seems his loud grunting and the couple of hops he manages to make are enough and she wakes up in a start, trying to scream through her gag as she looks around, panicked.

It’s only when she sees Dean that she seems to calm down a bit, just not entirely. He kind of understands, seeing as he’s supposed to be representing the law and he’s in no position to help her. Still, he tries to convey through a calm and insistent gaze that everything’s going to be okay. That his friends are no doubt on their way to save them.

As she holds Dean’s gaze, Krissy visibly relaxes, ever so slightly. Her eyes are still set wide, but there’s no more panic in there. She takes a deep breath and gives him a small nod. Dean responds in kind and starts wiggling some more.

Krissy sends him a curious gaze, then looks down at herself. She too is bound with thick hemp ropes and she starts wiggling on her chair. It doesn’t take long for Walt – there’s no hole in his jeans – to walk back into the room, pointing a gun at Dean.

“Would you guys quit moving around? Not that I’d have trouble shooting you, but I’d rather not have to. Buddy’s gonna want me to clean up and I hate cleaning up.”

Dean purses his lips at him and wiggles some more, his gaze defiant. Walt gives him a similar look as he moves his gun to press it against the back of Krissy’s head.

“You sure you wanna be a hero, Dean?”

Dean doesn’t need anymore than that to stop moving, shaking his head and relaxing his body. Walt gives Dean a smug look as he slides the gun in the back of his jeans. He’s so full of himself that he doesn’t notice Krissy bracing herself to swing backward onto him, chair and all. He yelps, surprised, losing his footing to fall backward.

When a shot is fired, Dean’s heart skips about ten beats as he tries to determine where it came from, but mostly where it landed. Walt’s wailings and the red patch growing on the floor beneath him is enough to understand the idiot hadn’t secured the gun before putting it in his back and shot himself when he fell.

Next to him, Krissy manages to wiggle out of the restraints on her arms, then starts working on those on her ankles. And okay, Dean is impressed. He doesn’t have time to manage doing the same that Krissy’s already taken back her pocket knife from Walt before kneeling behind Dean to cut off the bindings on his arms.

She’s just cut the ones on his legs when they hear the basement door fly open and people run down the stairs. Dean barely has time to dive to the floor and grab move a screaming Walt to grab his gun and aim it at the door. The next second, Charlie his running in, her too with her gun drawn high.

“Haffee!” is all Dean is able to say, the gag still jammed deep in his mouth. He lowers his arms and falls on his ass, relieved to see Sheriff Mills coming in behind her. “Heffeeff eeez,” he lets out, putting the gun on the floor to start pulling at the duct tape holding the gag.

While he probably rips all the hair from the back of his head and face as he does this, Charlie goes to read Walt his rights and handcuff him. After requesting medics be sent in the basement, Jody goes to help Krissy with her own gag situation.

Dean looks up at the ceiling, lots of noises coming from the ground floor now.

“We’re shutting this place down,” Charlie provides as she comes to kneel on the floor next to him. She rubs a soothing hand where the tape has left red marks. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah… how did you find us?”

“It wasn’t all that hard, your phone was live. The real surprise was finding Krissy here with you, though. What were you thinking? Bringing her here?”

“Come on, Charlie… you know I didn’t. I didn’t even bring myself here!”

Finally able to speak again, Krissy points her thumb at the small dirty window near the door. “I heard some noise and saw Dean all tied up. Had to help him.”

Charlie lifts a single eyebrow at her. “And you thought coming down here alone was a good idea? Why didn’t you call me? Or the sheriff?”

“I don’t know… I panicked, I guess. I know taekwondo, not that it helped much.”

Dean can’t help chuckling at her response. “Well, if that’s how you panic, I wouldn’t wanna see you when you’re in control. She managed to make Walt shoot himself… she’s a total badass.”

“Indeed, that she is,” Charlie says as she gets to her feet to help Dean up. She then turns to Krissy, smiling. “I’m thinking you might make quite the FBI agent, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

Krissy giggles, obviously pleased, but shakes her head. “Nah… I mean, that was fun and all, but I think I’ll stick to baking. Got all the excitement I needed to last a couple of lifetimes.”

Without another word, they all make their way upstairs, leaving Walt to be taken care of by the EMTs. On the main floor, the reverend’s flock is huddled together near the front, most of them looking shocked, or afraid, or even both as the authorities flood the church.

Sitting on chairs are three people in handcuffs, surrounded by deputies; Hannah, ripped-jeans-Roy, and a red faced man wearing a white suit and shoes.

“Who’s Colonel Sanders?” Dean asks Charlie.

“That’s Reverend Buddy Boyle. Not sure how far his implication goes, but we found out Michael Novak is an important contributor to his church. Pretty sure he knew you were being held in his freakin’ basement, so there’s that.”

Dean would have liked to talk to the reverend, but an EMT comes to guide him and Krissy outside instead. The bearded man lets Krissy follow one of his colleagues while he manhandle Dean to sit down in the back of an ambulance. The guy looks rough, but he’s gentle as he looks Dean over.

“Feel like you broke anything?” he asks as he prods at the bump on the back of Dean’s head, making him hiss.

“Nah, I don’t think so…” He looks at the EMT’s badge; J. Cuevas. “I don’t think so, Mr. Cuevas. But I might have a concussion.”

“Pretty sure you do… and you can call me Jesse, no need to be all formal.”

Dean catches Jesse’s soft gaze on him and chuckles. “I’m flattered, but I’m kinda seeing someone,” he says before noticing the wedding band on the man’s gloved hand.

Shit!

It’s Jesse’s turn to chuckle. “That’s just as well, seeing as I’m married to this gorgeous guy right there,” he says, pointing at the EMT taking care of Krissy. “Guess we were never meant to be,” he adds with a wink, now dabbing antiseptic over Dean’s scraped skin. “What the hell happened to you in there? Looks like they’ve gone and mopped the floor with your face.”

“Yeah… kinda feels like it, too.”

That’s all Dean says on the subject and Jesse doesn’t pry, keeping his next questions strictly health related. When Charlie comes out of the church a good half hour later, she finds Dean and Krissy sitting together in the ambulance, both sipping on coffee and wrapped in foil blankets.

“How come you guys aren’t at the hospital yet?” she asks. They don’t have time to say a word that Cesar, Jesse’s husband, answers for them.

“They’re both being difficult about that. They refuse to go.”

“I told Krissy she should have herself checked out,” Dean defends himself when Charlie scowls at him.

“If he’s not going, I don’t see why I should go. I’m not more fragile because I’m a girl, you know.”

Dean sends Charlie an aggravated look, but she’s having none of it. “I don’t care if you tinkle standing up or sitting down, you need to get checked out.” She claps Cesar’s shoulder, smiling. “It’s nothing against you guys, but I’d rather they see actual doctors, you know?”

“That’s what I’ve been telling them,” Cesar says, crossing his arms over his chest to glare at both Dean and Krissy.

Dean frowns and turns to Charlie, a pleading look on his face. “I’m doing okay, Charlie, I swear. I just wanna go back to the hotel and see Cas. He’s okay, right? The charges are gonna be dropped, right?”

He could swear he sees a shadow fall onto Charlie’s features. But she’s smiling at him, so he’s not really sure he saw anything.

“I’m sure they will, just need Bobby to confirm when we check in with him tomorrow morning. As for Cas, he checked out this morning, went back to Paradysum. I mean, it looked like you had left, so I guess he didn’t see the point of staying.”

“Then that’s where I’m going,” Dean says, letting the blanket fall off his shoulders.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Sam’s voice startles Dean. He looks up to see his little brother marching toward the ambulance, a serious – bitchy, if Dean has to give it a name – look on his face. He jumps out and goes to hug him, holding him close to speak. Hannah’s threat is still hovering low over his head.

“They know, Sammy. They know about Detroit. Hannah said they’ll ruin you if—”

“Don’t worry about that, Dean. It’s over, all right?”

Dean takes a step back, whatever Sam is saying not registering with him. “What do you mean, it’s over?”

Sam’s jaw is set tight. He looks more resigned than mad, not that it’s any better. “I can’t keep running from my past, Dean. S.S.A. Singer called me this morning. Apparently, whoever’s behind this decided not to wait and blabbed anyway. Gonna have to put my career on hold for a little while. Maybe I’ll even have to change careers, who knows?”

“What? What are you—”

“We’ll talk about it later, okay? First, you gotta go to the hospital.”

“Did you talk to Cas? He knows I didn’t think he was guilty for real, right?”

“Don’t worry, I know the drill. I did as I was supposed to and called Charlie when we hung up. Didn’t tell much to Cas, ‘cause I didn’t know what was happening. And I know whatever you said about him was bullshit, so I said nothing. Just told him what happened after Charlie called me to say you were safe and sound. Now get on that ambulance before I haul your ass up there myself.”

“Yeah, right, Samantha… I’d like to see you try.”

And because he knows his little brother is a freak of nature, Dean complies when Sam gets in position to tackle him, making sure to give him the finger as he gets back in the ambulance. Krissy, still sitting inside, rolls her eyes as Jesse gets in behind Dean and closes the door while his husband goes to sit behind the wheel.

Both Dean and Krissy are given a clean bill of health from the hospital and can leave in no time at all. Had he known, Dean would have let his brother follow them. Now, Krissy has to take a cab home – refusing to wait for Sam to get there and give her a ride.

As he waits for Sam, Dean pouts over the fact that he’s phoneless again, seeing how it’s become evidence thanks to Hannah. He’s also without a wallet, not even sure where it’s at. For all he knows, he could have lost it when Walt and Roy forced him into the van. It could also be in the van, meaning it might end up in another evidence bag. He’ll have to remember to ask Charlie about that.

When Sam walks through the doors, Dean gets up, not wanting to stay another minute. Sam understands and turns back around to open the door of the vehicle parked near the door. Dean chuckles when he sees the shiny SUV.

“Damn, Sammy… didn’t think you had that much cash to spend. The nice hotel, the luxury car. What did you have for dinner? Caviar and lobster?”

“No, better than that. Had the best pot roast I’ve ever had in my entire life.” He winces and points a finger at his brother. “You can never tell Eileen I said that.”

It doesn’t take long for Dean to notice Sam isn’t driving back to the hotel.

“Where are we going?”

“Since I kinda lost my job, Cas offered that I stay at Paradysum until I go back home.”

Dean swallows, nervous now at the thought of going back there, no matter how eager he was earlier. “And when are you leaving?”

“I gotta go see your boss, but I dealt myself a couple of days before I need to do this. Take a load off, you know? It’s not like they’re waiting for me at the office anyway.”

“What did Eileen have to say about that?”

Dean doesn’t miss the light in his brother’s eyes when he turns to him. “She said yes.”

“Huh?” And then, he understands. “Wait! You finally asked her? And she said yes? When did that happen?”

“Right after I called Charlie?”

Dean squints at his brother. “Wait… you asked her to marry you over the phone? This afternoon?”

“Well, over Skype, actually… it’s not like I could do it in person. I didn’t know what kind of trouble you’d gotten into at the moment, and I promised you I’d ask her.” He chuckles, a bit embarrassed. “She still thought it was sweet, though. I told her to go in my sock drawer, that there was something in there for her. I didn’t even get to ask. She came back wearing the ring, crying, nodding and signing yes.”

“So… would you say that your proposal made her… speechless?” Dean grins at his brother, overly proud of himself.

“God, you’re a dick!” Sam says, still chuckling a bit. “How long have you been sitting on this one?”

“Too damn long, Sammy… years!” Dean claps his brother high on the chest, this time with a soft smile on his face. “I may be a dick, but I’m real happy for you. You know this, right? Eileen’s an amazing girl.”

“I know, she’s the best girl in the world. I’m incredibly lucky.”

“Does she know? About… you know…”

Sam nods, not looking as gleeful anymore. “Yeah. Kinda told her about Detroit years ago. She doesn’t know everything, mainly because she doesn’t feel the need to, but she knows I might go away for some time because of it now. She’s not pumped, but she’s still supporting me. We’re good…”

Dean nods, wondering if he could ever be this lucky. He’s done some shady things in his days. He bristles when the thought prompts Castiel to come to his mind.

“So… Cas… how pissed is he?”

“At you? He’s not pissed, Dean. He seemed more worried than anything. I had to promise to bring you back to the house.”

“What if I’d said no?”

Sam glances at his brother again, that dopey look back on his face. “I knew you wouldn’t.”

It’s the sudden heat in his cheeks that makes Dean turn to look out the side window. He keeps his gaze outside as he speaks. “You’re not weirded out about this?”

“About what? You having a boyfriend?”

A boyfriend. That’s sappy as shit , Dean thinks, but he doesn’t say it, mostly because the idea makes his skin tingle. In a good way. “Don’t think I really can call Cas my boyfriend, but yeah… you’d be okay with me being… like that?”

“Why do you even care what I think?”

“‘Cause you’re my brother, Sammy. I you can’t accept me being with Cas, I—”

“You’re my brother, Dean, and that’s never changing. I’m not gonna stop loving you because you got a guy in your life. It doesn’t make the tiniest bit of difference to me. All I want is for you to be happy and if Cas does that for you, then I’m okay with you being… like that.” As he says that last part, he winks at Dean who scoffs and gives him the finger.

They don’t say another word until Sam parks the SUV where Castiel’s van should have been. Dean sucks in a breath, the events of the last couple of days finally starting to wear him down. He turns to his brother, panic in his eyes.

“Dean? You okay?”

“I can’t, Sammy,” he says in a stammer. He looks at his hand and how the knuckles are white from holding the door handle too tight. “Can’t do it.”

“D’you wanna stay here a bit? Take a breather? I can stay here with you, or we could drive around.”

“No… I mean… you go. I just need a minute, all right?”

“I’ll leave the engine running, it’s pretty cold out. Just… don’t go for a joy ride, okay? That thing’s already gonna eat a chunk out of my savings.”

Although he knows his brother is mostly kidding, Dean shakes his head, a serious look on his face. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. Just had a long couple of days, is all.”

“All right… I’ll be in the living room. Don’t forget, we gotta meet Charlie and Jody at the station tomorrow morning, so I’d rather not go to bed too late.”

Dean nods, closing his eyes as he makes the seat lie back. He needs a minute to breathe, knowing his life probably is about to change forever. If he were to be honest with himself, he’d admit his life changed the moment Castiel put his hands on him. Or the moment he let himself touch Castiel the way he wanted to touch him.

Maybe it even changed the moment he saw him walking out of the woods and taking his beekeeper hat off. Or when Cas made him a sandwich, or when he listened to all the lies Dean fed him and being so… patient, and understanding, and open.

He thinks back to the night before; breathing in Castiel’s skin as they sat together on the couch, feeling warm and content. Right before everything turned to shit.

Right before I found yet another reason to fuck everything up.

The silence surrounding him becomes too much to bear so Dean turns the radio on, fiddling with the dial until he finds a station playing something that’s not total crap. He wouldn’t be able to say who’s singing or what song it is, but it’s a nice enough background noise.

He lies back on the seat and closes his eyes again, letting the bluesy guitar lull him into a more relaxed state. The next song is a slower one. It almost sounds like jazz, but Dean doesn’t care, still finding it soothing on his ragged nerves.

After the fourth song, he’s calm enough to consider joining his brother inside. Maybe even see Cas. He’s so relaxed that the driver door opening doesn’t startle him. It’s only when Castiel speaks that Dean’s heart starts racing.

“Hello, Dean…”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

“Heya, Cas.”

Dean can’t say anything else as Castiel sits behind the wheel and shuts the door close. Their gazes are locked together and, even though Dean’s heart is beating furiously in his chest, he can’t deny the sense of calm washing over him. Just like he can’t help the smile now gracing his features as he makes the seat go back up.

“Are you okay?” Castiel says in a hush.

“Yeah… I’m fine,” Dean says, him too in a low voice. As if speaking at full volume would be enough to break the delicate bubble surrounding them. “You?”

“I’m all right. Why aren’t you coming in?”

Dean shrugs. “I’m scared, I guess?”

“Scared of what?”

He shrugs again, averting his eyes this time. “Not sure.”

The hand wrapping around his sends shivers down Dean’s spine. His eyes meet Castiel’s again, dipping to his lips when he speaks.

“Are you worried about what this all means for you? How people might judge you for wanting what you want?”

“And what is it that I want?”

A crooked smile appears on Castiel’s face. “Me? Unless…”

His answer makes Dean chuckle. “Yeah… no, I do. Want you, I mean. And yeah, maybe I kinda gotta get my head wrapped around that.” He sighs, shaking his head. “It’s not even about the guy on guy thing, you know?”

“It’s not?”

“Not really.” Dean turns on his seat to face Castiel. What he really needs to do is speak to him, but he finds himself mesmerized instead and lunges forward to kiss him. Just like when they came together the night before, the embrace feels desperate, soon both with their hands underneath their shirts and roaming over miles of warm skin.

When Castiel leans back to breathe, Dean chases after his lips, hungry.

“Dean,” Castiel says against Dean’s lips. “Your brother might not appreciate us soiling his car. I’m told it’s an expensive rental.”

Dean laughs into Castiel’s mouth, kissing him a bit more before leaning back. “Let’s go to your room, then.” He gives Castiel’s multiple kisses on the mouth, ending with a small lick on his upper lip. “I want you to fuck me, Cas.”

“Dean—”

“Has nothing to do with owing you my ass… it’s just what I want, all right? I really do.”

The doubt on Castiel’s face soon morphs into that dark lust he’d seen when Castiel had decided to punish him. Except this time, there’s no room for anger in the blue gaze, only power and want. Dean swallows, his dick already half hard.

He bunches his fist in Castiel’s t-shirt to pull him closer, locking their eyes together. “Fuck me, Castiel. Hard!”

When Castiel’s hand cards in his hair to pull on it, Dean lets out a trembling whine. “Yeah… like that.”

“You know the rules… you shut up unless I tell you otherwise.”

Castiel captures his mouth, letting him go after biting hard on his lower lip, still with a strong grip on his hair. “We’re not doing this here. We’re going to my room and you’ll take a shower.” He kisses him again. His lips are ferocious, but his fingers are delicate over Dean’s scratched face. “Then you’re gonna come to bed and show me how you open yourself up for me.” He pulls Dean’s head further back to lick up his stubbled neck and nip at his Adam’s apple. “You’re not coming before I’ve filled you up good and plenty. Are we clear?”

The green in Dean’s eyes is close to nonexistent at this point. His mouth is dry and all he can do is give Castiel back a shaky nod.

“Speak up, Dean. Are you okay with that plan?”

“Hmm… huh… yeah…”

When Castiel glares at him, Dean swallows.

“Green?”

“Good boy.”

Dean doesn’t have to say a word to his brother when they walk past him on their way toward the stairs. A single look at the men’s frumpiness and flushed skin is enough for Sam to know what’s about to transpire. And as soon as they disappear, Sam runs up to go hide in Dean’s old room, hoping the sound of whatever’s about to happen won’t travel all the way across the house.

Once in the privacy of Castiel’s bedroom, Dean lets himself be pushed on the wall and kissed. His dick is already hard and Castiel is just as aroused as he grinds against him.

“Shower… have to watch to make sure you won’t try masturbating in there,” Castiel says when he lets Dean go to steer him into the bathroom. Dean starts taking his clothes off, but Castiel stops him to take over. He can’t hold a soft moan when Castiel slides his underwear down, his dick bobbing free in the cool air.

“Shhh,” Castiel only says, arching an eyebrow at him.

Dean nods, pressing his lips together to try and stay quiet while Castiel turns the water on, guiding him inside the glass cabin when the water’s hot enough.

“Quickly,” Castiel instructs, handing him a washcloth and bottle of body wash. “You got three minutes,” he adds after Dean takes them, now looking down at his watch.

Dean smirks. Quick showers are something he’s good at and three minutes could almost be too much. So he washes himself, making sure not to make a single noise when rubbing the cloth over his skin makes his insides spark.

When he’s done, Castiel wraps him in an oversized towel. It’s soft and warm, and Dean could stay huddled in there forever. Cas guides him back into the room, gently dabbing the fabric over his maimed skin before snatching the towel away from Dean’s body and throwing it on the floor.

“On the bed,” Castiel says, his voice low and raw. Dean obeys and climbs onto it, naked and exposed. A bottle of lube lands on the mattress. “Open yourself for me.”

Dean swallows. It doesn’t matter that Castiel ordering him around is hot as hell, he’s never done that before. He’s helped getting some girls ready, but he’s never gone further than putting a single finger up his own ass while jerking off. He closes his eyes, swallowing the tinge of apprehension down as he flips the cap open and squeezes some lube onto his hand. He looks back at Castiel to see him taking his clothes off and it kind of makes him forget what he’s been doing.

“Keep going,” Castiel orders, letting his pants drop to the floor. Dean licks his lips at the sight of the tented underwear. “I said, keep going,” he repeats, again with a growl in his voice. Dean bristles as he drops his lubed fingers between his legs, tempted to start jacking himself off. He knows better, instead going to tease his hole, sucking in a breath as he starts pushing a first finger in.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Castiel says as he climbs on the bed, now fully nude. “Go on, push it in some more. You know you want it.”

Dean closes his eyes to work his finger deeper. It’s never as good as when Castiel did it to him, never was all that good… which might explain why he’s never been too eager to explore that part of himself any further. What Dean would love to do now is beg Castiel to take over, but he doesn’t dare doing it. Instead he breathes deeply as he starts pumping his finger in and out. It’s starting to feel a tiny bit better.

“Good boy… now, put a second one in,” Castiel says against his ear before sucking the earlobe between his teeth. “The quicker you get on with it, the quicker I’ll be inside you.”

Pushing a second finger next to the first one isn’t as easy as he’d hoped. Dean is too tensed and needs to try and relax, which proves next to impossible with Castiel basically French kissing his ear. “Cas…” he whines. When the mouth disappears, Dean turns to look Castiel in the eye. He doesn’t say another word, but his pleading gaze seems to be enough for Cas to understand.

Without a word, he coats his own fingers with lube. The next second, Castiel has his mouth on Dean’s, sucking at his lips and tongue as he gently pushes one, then two fingers in him.

“Ugh… Cas…” against Castiel’s mouth.

The fingers disappear. “I told you to shut up, Dean. I won’t say it again.” He wipes his hand on the comforter as he sits back on his heels. “You should be able to finish preparing yourself, now. Show me!”

Dean swallows and nods, lying backward with his legs spread wide. He puts some more lube on his fingers and this time, he’s able to push two in without a problem. He’s soon pumping them in and out, coating his insides as he stretches himself and tries to find his prostate. Before he can do it, Castiel grabs his hand to gently pull it out of the way.

“That toy’s not yours to play with, Dean,” he says, moving Dean’s arm over his head. “Both arms up, please,” he adds. He gets off the bed to grab the tie he’d been wearing earlier, then comes back to show it to Dean. “Green?” he asks.

The shivers that creep along Dean’s spine aren’t ones of pleasure this time. “Red,” Dean answers, frowning. Any other day, he might have been all for getting tied to a bedpost. Being kidnapped and tied to a chair is just too fresh of a memory for the thought to be enticing.

“Oh, Dean… I’m so sorry… I didn’t…” Castiel says in a stammer, throwing the tie away. He takes Dean’s hands in his, pulling him up into a sitting position. “We can stop this. I mean, we can just make love without me being all… domineering. I’d love that too.” He kisses the red markings on one wrist, then on the other one, his lips light as feathers on Dean’s skin. “I don’t need this.”

“I do,” Dean supplies as he brings Castiel’s hands to his own mouth to kiss them. “I’m ready… just fuck me, okay? I need it to be rough… just… can’t handle being tied up right now.” He leans up to kiss Castiel, then lets himself fall backward again. “I’m green about you splitting my ass in two. I really am.”

Castiel nods and sits back on his heels. “Very well. Can you handle being on your hands and knees, then?” The voice is rough again, but there’s still a soft edge to it. Dean nods, half bummed he won’t get to see Castiel’s face while he fucks him. Still, he gets into position, making sure to look over his shoulder.

This time, Castiel doesn’t ask him to keep his eyes forward, and Dean is grateful for that. He looks on as his lover rolls a condom down his shaft and coats it with lube. Another thing he’d like to do is not have any type of barrier between them. Again, Dean says nothing and waits for Castiel to shove his dick in him. He’s hungry for it. He can almost feel his butthole fluttering he’s so impatient.

When Castiel rests his cockhead against Dean’s hole, Dean sends his hips backward. He hisses when his ass gets slapped.

“Patience.”

Dean huffs, biting at his lower lip while Castiel keeps teasing him with his dick. Until he stops moving and just stays there, dick warm against rim. It takes all Dean’s got for him not to move.

His patience is quickly rewarded, Castiel starting to push inside him. It doesn’t matter that the movements are slow and delicate, the air still gets punched out of Dean’s whole body. The two fingers were nothing compared to what’s entering him right now. He’s seen Castiel’s dick, he knows how big it is, yet it feels twice as large as it’s being pushed in his ass.

“Green?” Castiel asks, feeling how tense Dean has become.

“Green…”

Castiel pulls back, then pushes forward again, a steadying hand on the small of Dean’s back and the other now wrapped over his hip. He gets in deeper, and Dean has to bite the inside of his cheeks to keep quiet. By the time Castiel’s balls hit Dean’s ass, it’s as if Castiel’s cock has always belonged there.

Soon, all can be heard in the room are Dean’s ragged breaths and Castiel’s pleased grunts, set against a backdrop of skin slapping together. How Dean is able to stay quiet when Castiel hits his prostate, he’ll never know. He does let out some shameful squeak when he tries to touch himself and gets hit on the ass again, much harder this time.

“Mine,” Castiel murmurs in his ear after he’s pulled him up. They’re both on their knees now, Castiel’s sweaty chest strong against Dean’s back. He grabs at Dean’s length, stroking it in a rhythm that matches the thrust of his hips. “Don’t come,” he orders, squeezing the base of Dean’s dick as he keeps pounding him in the ass.

The loud grunt Dean lets out when Castiel bites the meat of his shoulder doesn’t seem to register, Castiel’s hips ramming in one last time before he stills and moans as he comes inside him. Dean’s close too, sending a hand backward to grab at Castiel’s hair, tempted to pull. He doesn’t, instead massaging his lover’s scalp as he clenches his ass and moves his hips, intended on milking Castiel for all he’s got.

It only takes a few strokes from Castiel’s firm hand for Dean to come with a strangled cry. One hand still holding onto Castiel’s hair, he sends the other one to grab the meat of his ass, needing to keep him in there for as long as he can.

Until he can’t anymore, loosening his grip on Castiel as his whole body goes limp. He gets back onto his hands and knees, Castiel sliding out of him barely registering as he lets himself fall face first on the mattress. He feels tired enough to sleep, but the buzzing under his skin prevents it. He starts shivering, not sure if he’s cold or just winding down. Maybe it’s a bit of both.

Dean lets out a satisfied hum when Castiel’s hand gets back on him. He wipes him clean with a warm washcloth before rolling him to the side. It takes a bit of effort, but Dean manages to open his eyes to see Castiel pulling off the white feather down from the bed to throw it on the floor. He then pulls the sheet and blanket to help Dean crawl underneath.

“I’ll be back,” Castiel murmurs as he puts on a bathrobe, leaving Dean to hum as he tries to warm up under the covers.

When he comes back, it’s with a tray holding two glasses of lemonade and a plate of oatmeal cookies. He places it on the bedside table then gets under the covers after getting naked again. He sits up with pillows in his back, settling his body against Dean’s. Once he’s helped him also sit up, Castiel gives Dean a glass.

“Drink this. Then you’re gonna have some cookies.”

Dean chuckles are strained as he accepts the drink. He takes a couple of sips, trembling when he gives the glass back to Castiel. Without a word, Castiel manhandles him so he’ll sit between his legs, hooking them over Dean’s. He pulls the covers on their bodies and starts rubbing at Dean’s chest and belly to help him warm up.

With his chin on Dean’s shoulder, Castiel speaks softly, praising him. “You were so good, Dean. You’re the most beautiful man in the world. You know this, right?” He kisses him below the ear. “I’ve never met anyone as good or as beautiful as you.”

No matter how Dean is tempted to start arguing, he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to talk, or think, or even move. All he wants is to bask in Castiel’s warmth for as long as he’ll have him. He leans back and sighs, his own head now resting on Castiel’s shoulder.

“You really should eat a little bit,” Castiel says after a while. He breaks a piece of cookie to rest it against Dean’s mouth. “You like those, don’t you?”

Dean nods as he wraps his lips around the cookie, catching on Castiel’s fingers in the process. He hums as he chews, keeping his eyes close. “More,” he murmurs when he has swallowed, another piece soon being fed to him. He takes it, once more getting a taste of Castiel’s fingers.

Between them, they’ve eaten about three cookies in little bites when Dean finally opens his eyes. He’s feeling more like himself again and he moves around to catch Castiel’s gaze. “Do all your lovers get juice and cookies after you fuck ’em? Not that I’m complaining.”

Castiel chuckles, dipping down to give him a small kiss on the lips. “It’s called aftercare… that’s what I didn’t do the other day, and I should have.” He kisses him again, a bit more deeply this time. “Doesn’t matter how mild the scene is, it is my duty to take care of you once we’re done.”

“You do that stuff a lot? I mean, do you have whips and shit?” He looks around the room, wondering now if he’s missed some kind of kinky display.

“It’s happened…” He sighs, wrapping himself even tightly around Dean. “Never been with such a responsive sub before, though. That’s something we could explore further, maybe…” Dean feels him shiver in his back. “If you’re into it, and if we see each other again, that is.”

Dean sits up and turns around to face Castiel, sitting between his legs. “Why wouldn’t we?”

“Don’t you have to go back home?”

Dean shrugs, chewing at his lower lip. He kind of had forgotten about that.

“I gotta go see my boss. Well… my ex-boss, most probably.”

“You still think they’ll fire you?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I was right about you, but then there’s something about Sammy that got out. I’ll probably get in trouble for that too, seeing as I’ve been covering for him all those years.”

Castiel tilts his head, frowning. “Detroit wasn’t your fault or your brother’s, Dean. Pretty sure they’ll realize that soon enough.”

Dean’s jaw slacks. “Wait… how do you… did my brother tell you about Nick?”

“He did. Only because I was with him when S.S.A. Singer called. I guess he needed someone to talk to.”

“And you’re not… you still wanted to get with me?”

“Dean, it’s not my place to judge you. If anything, the way you risked everything to help your little brother is admirable. Wish my own family had for me only half of the love you have for yours.”

“I’d do anything for that kid,” Dean says. “And anyway, it was an accident. If he hadn’t—”

Dean only realizes he’s started shivering when Castiel pulls him to lie on top of him, rubbing his back. “You did what you had to do, Dean. Sam needed help dealing with his addiction, not be held responsible for something he had no control over. Nick falling to his death because he was too high to function isn’t Sam’s fault.”

“Did Sammy say that?” Dean asks, hopeful. As far as he knows, Sam has never stopped struggling with his guilt.

“No. I’m saying that. He still seems to believe he could have saved his friend. I can only hope my outside view on the matter might help him think otherwise. Although he might need better help than what I provided during a simple conversation. I believe seeing a professional about this would help… when all’s done and dealt with, I mean.”

The more Castiel speaks, the warmer Dean’s insides get. “God, you’re awesome,” he says as he wraps his arms around Castiel to hug him back. “You’re so fucking nice… I hated having to lie to you, you have no idea,” he adds. “I—”

The words are there, waiting to be set free. No matter how they had been easy to voice when Dean was alone, Castiel being right there with him is enough for the declaration to cower back and dissolve in his throat. He starts trembling again.

“Dean?”

“Can we just… not talk for a bit?” Dean says when’s found his voice again. As he says it, he moves them both to lie down, Dean moving himself as the small spoon and holding onto the arm Castiel wraps over his chest.

They don’t speak again for some time, holding onto each other under the warm blanket. It doesn’t take long for Dean to notice Castiel’s breathing has evened out.

“Cas?” Dean says in a hush, not really hoping to wake him up. “You sleepin’?”

Castiel doesn’t answer, only letting out a sigh as he tightens his hold on Dean. Dean who, once more, can feel the weight of his emotions building up in his throat. Except this time, he doesn’t swallow them down. He closes his eyes and lets the words fall out of his mouth, ever so softly.

“I love you…”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Dean is the first to wake up, and although the room isn’t as dark as it was when he fell asleep, the sun has yet to rise. He shivers, the covers not on their naked bodies anymore, which is probably what woke him up in the first place.

As he slept, Castiel moved away from him and is now lying on his back with his arm stuck under Dean’s body. Dean turns to face him and moves closer, using Castiel’s bicep as a pillow. He tries to grab the blanket with his toes, but fails and soon abandons the idea. Castiel’s body against his is enough to keep him warm.

When Castiel lets out some kind of loud snort, it makes Dean smile. Castiel snoring kind of makes him perfect, in an imperfect sort of way. His heart starts racing as he lets his eyes roam over his lover’s tanned skin. He lays a soft hand on his chest, brushing a nipple with his thumb. Castiel sighs as the nub hardens and Dean has no choice but to kiss and lick it, his hand now slowly travelling downward.

He looks to see Castiel’s dick has been filling up. He licks his lips before starting to kiss his way down Castiel’s torso. When his nose hits the trimmed pubic hair, Dean inhales deeply, Castiel’s scent heady and warm. He licks his lips again before licking along Castiel’s shaft and taking him in his mouth, suckling gently at the swollen head.

When he takes him deeper, a hand cards in his hair. “Dean…” Castiel says, already sounding out of breath. Dean only hums back as he works Castiel’s dick with his mouth and hand, his own dick hard now. In need of some sort of pressure, Dean moves around to lie on his belly between Castiel’s leg and starts humping the mattress as he works to take Castiel deeper down his throat.

It’s hard to say if it’s Dean’s eagerness or inexperience that causes him to gag the way he does. He has to let go of Castiel when saliva goes down the wrong pipe. He coughs only to almost chokes again when he sees it; Castiel’s cock glistening with spit and dark red at the tip. It may have been feeling amazing on his tongue, what Dean needs now is to impale himself on that dick. He lifts his gaze to see Castiel fully awake and looking down at him.

They don’t need to speak to communicate, the hunger in their eyes enough to understand what it is they both need. Castiel grabs the bottle of lube from the bedside table and puts some in his hand before giving it to Dean. He also grabs a condom, but Dean snatches it from his hand before he can tear the packaging, throwing it over his shoulder.

“I wanna feel you,” he only says as he shoves a couple of slick fingers inside himself. He doesn’t need much preparation this time, soon straddling Castiel’s legs to sink down his lubed up dick within seconds, his arms wrapped around Castiel’s neck to hold him close. It’s easy, and it’s good, and he doesn’t wait to start pumping his hips up and down, his dick getting all the friction it needs from their bodies being pressed together.

“Good morning, Dean,” Castiel says as he nibbles on Dean’s ear.

“’Morning, Cas,” Dean answers, breathing heavy. He’s already close, the movements of his pelvis fast and rough. “You feel so good inside me. Why do you feel so good inside me?” he murmurs, emotions bubbling up from the depths of his belly. He shifts a bit and it’s like fireworks exploding inside him. “Oh, god, Cas!” he says in a whine. “Please!”

Castiel sounds just as wrecked as he does. “Please what, Dean? Anything… I’ll give you anything you want…”

But Dean doesn’t speak again, instead shoving his tongue inside Castiel’s mouth. They come together a couple of minutes later, each swallowing the other’s blissed out cry. The kiss becomes more tender as their movements soften, Castiel’s come trickling out of Dean’s hole when his dick plops out.

Castiel falls back on the mattress, Dean following with his arms still around his neck and straddling him. Dean can’t say how it happened, but the covers are back over their bodies. He sighs, sated.

“I could get used to that,” Castiel murmurs. “Do you really have to leave?”

Dean only nods, his face hidden in the crook of Castiel’s neck. They don’t speak again for some time, enjoying each other’s warmth while trying to ignore how sticky and gross they are. If they don’t move, it shouldn’t matter all that much, should it?

When Dean speaks again, the sun is up and the birds are chirping.

“Cas…” He takes a deep breath. “I—I love you, okay? And it’s fine if you don’t. I mean, I’ll leave you alone if you tell me to. But I just had to say it. I fucking love you, man! Didn’t think I could ever do it, love someone for real, you know? But then—then, I met you… I know it makes no sense, but—but that’s how I feel.”

When Dean pushes himself to sit back up, it’s to see Castiel’s eyes shiny and his brows furrowed. The expression could be a toss between delight and sorrow. For Dean, sorrow is the emotion that makes the most sense and he averts his eyes.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he mumbles as he starts to move away from Castiel’s lap, only to be grabbed at the thighs so he’ll stay put.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Castiel says, his eyes even shinier than before, tears threatening to spill. “You’re the most infuriating, impatient, self-doubting man I’ve ever met, Dean Winchester!” He lets his legs go to sit up, softly cradling Dean’s face to force their eyes together. “Do you know how much I love you? I love you to a point where I would leave here and follow you anywhere if that’s what you wanted me to do. I love you so much that I’d leave you alone if you didn’t want to see me again. Don’t care if it makes sense or not, that’s how much I love you, you idiot,” he says before capturing his lips in a searing kiss.

All Dean wanted that morning was to stay in bed. And maybe he could have convinced Castiel to let him do it if it hadn’t been for his cockblocking baby brother. Sam would constantly do that to him when they were younger, and it appears he’s still finding ways to do it now. Which means that it’s always been on purpose, Dean decides, bent on getting his revenge as soon as he has the chance.

Even with Sam being an ass, Dean and Castiel are able to clock in some more sexy times when they hit the shower, Castiel getting to his knees to suck him off. After coming deep down Castiel’s throat, Dean can only hope he’ll eventually be just as skilled. All he wants is to be able to do the same for Cas. For now though, Dean reciprocates as much as he can and almost comes again when Castiel spills on his tongue. Just like he almost comes when Castiel dips down to lick his own seed from Dean’s face and feed it back to him.

And even though he would have prefered to spend the day canoodling in bed with Castiel, Dean is grinning like an idiot as he sits in Jody’s office with Charlie. They’re on hold with the FBI, waiting for Bobby Singer to pick up the phone.

“Somebody’s had a good night,” Charlie says, chuckling. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re pregnant. You’re glowing, dude.”

Dean doesn’t have time to do anything but glare, Bobby getting on the line at that moment.

“Singer,” he says, his voice making Dean gulp; Bobby doesn’t sound happy. Not that he ever does.

“Hey, Bobby… it’s Jody. I’m here with Charlie and Dean.”

“Hi, Bobby,” Charlie and Dean say at once, to which their boss grunts in return.

“What are you both still doing over there?” he asks. “Was expecting you both in my office this morning.”

Before Charlie or Dean can start explaining themselves, Jody answers. “Come on, Bobby. Dean was kidnapped less than twenty-four hours ago. He kind of deserves a small break, doesn’t he?”

“I’m old, you don’t see me getting no break,” Bobby says, then sighs. “But yeah, I get it… still need to debrief you guys. When are you coming in?”

Charlie turns to Dean and winks. “I’ll be there tomorrow, for sure. Whattaya say we give Dean a bit more time to get back on his feet? Isn’t he suspended anyway?”

“He has to turn his badge and gun in, so, you know—”

“I have Dean’s home key and the code to his safe, I’ll bring them to you tomorrow, boss,” Charlie promises, getting a thumbs up back from Dean. “And Dean will be in the office bright and early Monday morning.”

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Bobby… I’ll be there, like she said.”

“You better, or else I’m releasing an APB on your ass.”

Jody squints at Dean. “Don’t you worry, Bobby. I’ll drive him myself to the airport if need be. He’ll be there.”

Dean scoffs while Bobby snorts. “Good luck with that, Jody. Dean doesn’t do planes.”

“Not if I have a choice, no, I don’t,” Dean confirms.

“If he’s gonna be driving back, then he might as well be leaving today,” Charlie chimes in, knowing that’s not something Dean will want to do. He turns to glare at her again.

“I can make it in a day, Bradbury. Just you watch me.”

“All right… not that I’m bored, but I gotta get outta here. Donna was having contractions this morning and I’d rather be with her in case today’s the day. Can we finish this up? And, about James Novak, do you confirm he’s off the hook on your end too?”

“He is,” Bobby confirms. “Thanks to you guys, we’ve got all we need to accuse Caroline Johnson. From what I’m told, she pretty much confessed her crimes to Dean when she held him prisoner.”

“Also, Walt and Roy Moon agreed to testify against her in exchange for a reduced sentence,” Jody says.

“That and they’re probably pissed to not be getting the money they were promised,” Dean surmises. “How about that drug dealer? The one that said he stole crap to Cas?”

“He was lying through his teeth, as you might imagine,” Bobby says. “The second we told him he’ll never see a single cent Uriel Wisdom promised him for lying, he fessed up.”

“Wisdom? That’s Zachariah Adler’s second in command, right? Thought he was all righteous and shit.”

“Some are more susceptible than others to power and money, I guess… Internal Affairs will be handling him and Adler, and anyone else that helped. As for Michael Novak, we’re putting the finishing touches on our case against him. Just need to verify some of the stuff Charlie found out and then we’re good to go. He’ll likely be arrested this afternoon.”

“Pretty sure Kevin’s going to find much more than I could,” Charlie says, signifying for Dean to stay quiet with a finger on her lips. “I mean, he did find out about him giving money to Buddy Boyle’s church… didn’t know that.”

“Maybe. So, Charlie… eight AM in my office tomorrow?”

“Eight AM sharp, boss. See you tomorrow.”

The line goes dead before Jody or Dean have time to say their goodbyes. Jody turns the speaker off and leans back in her chair. “I’d say that was a good day. Closed three cases in one sitting; that Flagstaff girl, the fire at Harvelle’s , and Anna… oh, and speaking of Flagstaff! Did you know your friend Kevin might have been able to identify her?”

Both Dean and Charlie shake their head.

“If he’s right, she came to America from Sri Lanka to study. Sorta fell off the map before she could get her diploma, though.” Jody clears her throat. “I won’t try saying her name, it’s ten feet long and I’m no doubt gonna mess it up, but the good thing is people on your end are doing all they can to find her next of kin. I’d be so very glad if we could totally put that case to rest, you know?”

Jody gives Dean a crooked smile, shaking her head. “Even if I came to believe getting you guys involved was the worst idea I’ve ever had. When you showed up at my home with Castiel—”

“But I was right, wasn’t I?”

“Right or not, you’re still lucky I didn’t shoot you.” And although her tone is kind of rough, there’s still a bit of humor in her gaze. “You really should be more careful in the future, Dean.”

“I know… what can I say, I was desperate.”

“I’ll say,” Charlie agrees, rolling her eyes. She leans forward to speak, pointing at Dean. “You see, our boy here fell in love and he can’t think straight anymore,” she says in a conspiratorial tone. “And yes, I’m being literal,” she adds, laughing.

Dean can feel his cheeks warming up. “Did not,” he says, but they know he’s lying. “Okay, so I did. Sue me!”

Now with a grin on her face, Charlie grabs at Dean’s face to pull him toward her and kiss his forehead. “Welcome to the family, Dean. We’re here, we’re queer—”

“I’m outta here,” Dean finishes as he gets up. “Anything else you need, Sheriff?”

“No, I think I got all I need. Now go spend some time with your beau.” She winks as she gives him the evidence bags containing his wallet and phone. “And we won’t be needing those,” she adds before getting up to come around the desk and hug him. “I’m thinking we’ll be seeing you a lot around town in the future,” she says as she lets him go. “Don’t be a stranger, all right? Just don’t bring anymore perps by my house.”

When Dean comes back to Paradysum, everyone’s in the kitchen having lunch. He’d love to go sit next to Castiel, but there’s no place for him. Instead, he sits next to his brother after getting himself a serving of Gabriel’s chicken quesadillas. They’re not that all warm anymore, but he doesn’t care. They still look and smell amazing.

“Hey, guys,” he says as he sits down, only to find the people keeping their gazes on their plates without responding. He swallows, finding Castiel’s blue eyes not looking back at him either. “Cas?” he asks, his lunch forgotten. When the man doesn’t answer, Dean turns to his brother, his heart jammed in his throat. “What the hell is go—”

That’s when he sees it, the corner of his brother’s mouth quivering. He turns to give everyone the stink eye, Castiel included. “You motherfuckers!” he spits.

That’s all it takes to make everyone break character. They’re all laughing while Dean can only breathe in relief. Until he has to join them because they really got him good. They’ll eventually pay for it, he vows that they will, but for now he just laughs with them because he’s too damn relieved.

“Come on, Dean-O, you had to know we’d be giving you a hard time,” Meg says, winking at him. On her left, Chuck is grinning wide and on her right, Hael is giggling with a hand over her mouth.

“Not only did you hide who you really were, but you also hid that gorgeous hunk of a man. I still can’t believe he’s related to you,” Gabriel adds, roaring and wagging his brows at Sam who huffs, now red as a beet. “You had to pay for that, at the very least.”

“Hands off my little brother, Gabe! He’s engaged,” Dean says, pointing a menacing finger at the ex-porn star.

“I know… saw a picture of the missus, she’s cute as a button. You should show them my work, see if it’ll inspire them to expand their horizons a bit.” He winks at Sam. “I’m available whenever you guys decide to get naughty in the bedroom.”

Everybody at the table is laughing again. Everybody except Dean and Castiel who are sitting much too far away from each other to really be comfortable. They get lost in each other’s eyes, enough not to notice when people start trickling out of the kitchen to go back to their daily activities. It’s Sam snapping his fingers in his face that pulls Dean out of his transe.

“Earth to Dean,” he says. “So? When are you coming back?”

Dean blinks a couple of times, then turns to his brother. “Huh? Hmm… gotta go see Bobby Monday morning.” He glances back at Cas who’s taking his and Sam’s dishes to go wash them. “When are you going back?”

“Tomorrow afternoon. I also have to see S.S.A. Singer Monday morning.”

“Leave with me on Sunday morning, then. We’ll drive down together.”

“Are you crazy? It’s like… two days out!”

Dean purses his lips. “First, it’s about twenty hours. Second, come on man. Road trip! Just like when we were kids.”

“Those weren’t road trips, Dean. That was our drunk of a dad not being able to keep a job and moving us around because he couldn’t pay rent”

There’s a clatter of dishes and Dean looks up to see Castiel acting as if he hadn’t been listening in, grabbing back the plate that had slipped out of his hands. Dean elects not to get on that subject right now, determined to convince his brother.

“If we both drive, we’ll be there early Monday. You’ll even have time to go home, take a shower, and kiss your bride-to-be good morning.”

Sam crosses his arms. “Here’s my counter. I go with you, but we leave Saturday morning. And we stop for the night.”

“Why? It’s gonna take even longer that way. We can make it without stopping if we both drive.”

“All right, we don’t stop. But we still leave Saturday.”

Dean glances at Castiel again, and this time he’s looking back at them. He swallows, hating the idea of losing a whole day of Castiel-time. “Come with us,” he blurts out, then looks at his brother again. “Cas can come, right? If he wants to, I mean.”

Sam smiles, looking up at Castiel who’s coming to wrap an arm around Dean’s shoulders. “I wouldn’t mind. What do you say, Cas? Feel like coming on a road trip with us?”

“I could leave here for a couple of days, I guess. Would have to make sure all is taken care of, though. It’s just… I wouldn’t want to impose on your family time,” he adds, looking down at Dean.

“You wouldn’t be, I swear,” Dean says, sneaking an arm around Castiel’s waist. “Plus, I’d go as far as to say that you’re family. You are to me, anyway.”

Sam leans in to slap his brother on the shoulder, then gets up to stand tall in front of Castiel. “If Dean says you’re family, then that what’s you are,” he says before taking a step forward, holding a warning finger up. “But if you ever hurt my brother, believe me when I say that they’ll never find your body again.”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

After agreeing they would be driving to Kansas City together, Dean suggests they leave Friday evening instead of Saturday morning. Not only is Sam eager to see Eileen, but Dean is just as excited to bring Castiel into his own home. He wants to see Castiel having breakfast in his kitchen. And he wants Castiel to fuck him hard into his own mattress. He shivers with delight at the thought of his memory foam getting to remember that .

Dean is the one driving the first stretch while his brother naps on the backseat. Castiel is sitting in the front with him, their fingers interlaced most of the time. Even when Castiel dips below the wheel to suck him off, their hands stay linked together, Dean almost driving into a ditch when he comes with a strangled breath. When Sam is startled awake by the car swerving back onto the road, he’s offered the excuse of Castiel pulling on the wheel so they wouldn’t hit a deer.

Sam squints at them, but seems to accepts the explanation and goes back to sleep, never seeing how Castiel wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. Just like he doesn’t see the sated smile on Dean’s lips as he keeps on driving, or how he lifts Castiel’s hand once in a while to kiss it. And Dean sighs contentedly, his heart so full it feels three times bigger than it should.

They’ve been on the road for about eight hours when Dean comes to a stop at a Gas ‘N Sip to fill up. Both Castiel and his brother are dead to the world and Castiel is so cute that Dean decides he should let him sleep.

“Sammy… it’s your turn to drive,” Dean says in a low voice after opening the back door and patting him on the knee. He keeps an eye on Castiel, hoping he won’t wake up. Sam stirs awake, blinking as he acclimates to his surroundings.

“Where are we?” he asks. Dean puts a finger on his lips, then points at Castiel.

“Pennsylvania,” he says in a hush. “Ready to take over?”

Sam nods, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He looks back at his brother and mouths ‘coffee’. Dean nods and gets out, putting the nozzle back on the pump before going into the store. When he comes back out, Sam is already sitting behind the wheel with Castiel still asleep on the passenger seat. He gives Sam his coffee then gets in the backseat, careful to make as little noise as possible.

He also gives his brother the bag of snacks he bought then grabs the pillow Castiel had insisted they brought, trying to punch it into a cozy lump. The car isn’t as big or luxurious as the pricy SUV Sam had rented and trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in the normal sized sedan isn’t an easy feat. As he tries, Dean grummels and huffs.

“Stop fidgeting, Dean. I’m taller than you and I found a way,” Sam says in a quiet voice when Dean has been moving around for a good fifteen minutes.

“You’re a freak, that’s why,” he says back, keeping an eye on Castiel’s head still leaning against the side window. His heart swells again, even bigger than it had before. He stops fidgeting, tempted to squeeze his arm between the seat and the door to find Castiel’s hand. He doesn’t, but the thought alone seems to be enough to help find the blissful sleep that had been eluding him.

When Dean wakes up again, they’re nearing Terre Haute, Indiana.

“Good morning, Dean,” Castiel says when Dean sits up and yawns.

“Hey, Cas,” he answers, leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek. “Hey, Sammy,” he says, rubbing a hand into his brother’s long hair to mess it up.

“Quit it,” Sam says, slapping his hand away. “Can’t you see I’m driving?”

“Yes, you are.” He looks at his watch, yawning again, then peaks at the gas needle. “Whattaya say we stop? Get some gas, and coffee… we could switch, too.” He wraps both his hands over Castiel’s shoulders to squeeze them. “The back’s not super comfortable, but you could still try and take a nap, if you want.”

Castiel puts a hand over one of Dean’s. “I slept enough, thank you. But I can still go in the back, let you and your brother spend some quality time together in the front seat.”

Dean almost laughs at that, thinking back to the quality time he and Castiel had up there not so long ago. “As you wish. I’m not offering you to drive only ‘cause I know you don’t like it.”

This time, Castiel fully turns in his seat to kiss Dean on the lips. “Thank you, I truly appreciate it. I would if I had to, though.”

“I know… I love to drive, so I don’t mind at all.”

Dean smiles, giving Castiel another kiss before leaning backward. It takes another ten minutes for Sam to find somewhere to stop. The three men get out of the car to stretch their legs and hit the restroom. Ten minutes later, Dean is back behind the wheel with Sam on the backseat because he insists that driving has made him tired and that he’d like to take a nap.

“Just one thing though,” Sam says as he rearranges the pillow to his liking and lies down with his knees drawn up. “If you could wait until I’m not in the car anymore to do sex stuff, I’d really appreciate it.”

Dean gulps and flushes while Castiel starts laughing. “Deal… and sorry about that,” he says as he grabs Dean’s hand to squeeze it.

“Yeah… sorry, Sammy,” Dean mutters, getting back on the road to devour the last miles toward Kansas City.

When they stop by Sam and Eileen’s place a little before dinner time, Dean takes a minute to go and congratulate her, no matter how eager he is to bring Cas into his home.

They stay a bit longer than he had expected, mostly because Eileen and Castiel hit it off instantly. Of course, Cas knows sign language and they get into a lengthy conversation about weddings, which Dean has trouble following. He knows a bit of sign language himself, but apparently not enough. Even Sam, who’s much better at it, doesn’t understand everything the two are signing about.

Maybe introducing those two wasn’t such a good idea after all , Dean thinks, now worried about all the stuff they could be saying that neither he or his brother would ever understand. Secret stuff…

“So… do you want a beer or something?” Sam asks. Except Dean knows his brother; what he really wants is for Dean and Cas to leave already so he can spend some alone time with his fiancée. He’s giving him an out.

Dean shakes his head. “Nah… I think we better go. Huh, Cas? Wanna go?”

“But you just got here,” Eileen says, speaking now while she signs.

“Babe, we just drove for close to twenty-four hours,” Sam says, signing as well. “Let’s all get some rest and,” he glances at his brother, almost looking apologetic now, “we could have dinner together tomorrow night?”

That would mean another couple of hours where Dean wouldn’t be able to touch Castiel the way he wants to, but he actually loves the idea of him and Eileen getting along. If they’re to stay together for the rest of their—

“Yeah, okay. Plus, we gotta celebrate your engagement,” he says, startled by his own train of thoughts. “Dinner tomorrow. We’ll go to that fancy place you guys like… my treat,” he says, to which Sam nods, a relieved smile on his lips. Dean hugs him, then hugs Eileen, congratulating them again. He waits while Castiel does the same, then pulls him out of there before another topic of conversation can arise.

“How far is your place?” Castiel asks. Dean turns to him to see that eager look on his face again.

“Too damn far,” he admits as he puts the car in drive. And when he parks in front of his apartment building, it’s five minutes faster than the twenty it usually takes. It still took too long for their taste.

They have to keep their hands to themselves as they ride the elevator to the seventh floor, thanks to his neighbor Mildred riding along with them. It doesn’t matter that nobody says a word, the air is heavy enough for the older woman to understand what’s going on and before she gets out on the fifth floor, she wiggles her fingers goodbye and winks at them.

“Good evening, boys… have fun.”

Their mouths are like magnets. They come together as soon as the doors close, Dean letting himself being pushed against the wall with Castiel licking inside his mouth. The doors open again and they get out, Castiel pulling him by the hand.

“Left,” Dean says as he takes the lead toward his apartment. When he unlocks the door, it’s with trembling hands, Castiel having already started to undo Dean’s pants from behind.

“Finally,” Castiel growls when they get in, slamming the door shut with his foot. “Bedroom,” he orders, already pulling on his clothes while Dean does the same. They don’t touch as they make their way inside the apartment, Dean walking backwards while Cas follows, his hungry eyes all over him.

The room is dark and Dean doesn’t flip the switch. Instead, he takes Castiel’s hands and pulls him toward the bed. Once there, he lets himself fall backward on the mattress, bringing Castiel to fall on him. “Fuck me,” he says when he wraps a hand around Castiel’s already hard dick.

“Got lube?” Castiel asks, doing the same to him. Dean whines, letting his head fall back. “Lemme check.” He gets out of Castiel’s hold to turn the side lamp on and slide his sex box from under the bed. He flips the cover off and groans. “That’s what I thought… I finished it,” he announces, showing there’s no lube in the box.

“I have some in my bag… that we left in the car…” Castiel says before chuckling as he catches a glimpse of the box’s content.

“ Busty Asian Beauties magazines, Dean? I’ll admit, I pegged you more for a computer kind of guy.”

“They have great articles,” Dean counters, cheeky. “Plus, I’m a purist at heart. Internet’s nice, but sometimes you need to go back to the basics, you know?”

“The lack of toys is the saddest thing, in my humble opinion.”

“Got all the toys I need right here,” Dean says, wrapping a hand over Castiel’s shaft again.

Castiel purrs, leaning in for a kiss. “Tell me you got olive oil in your kitchen… or coconut oil… any type of edible oil, really,” he says against his mouth. Dean nods, letting Castiel go to get off the bed. He runs out, soon coming back with a small bottle of olive oil that’s never even been opened. “I don’t cook much,” he offers as an excuse as he unscrews the cap. He’s about to pour some in Castiel’s awaiting hand when he looks up, his brows scrunched. “Sure we can use that? It’s okay?”

Castiel takes the bottle from Dean’s hand. “Do you wish to forego using a condom again?” Dean nods and Castiel smiles. “Then it’s good,” he says, pouring a bit of oil on his erect cock, then on Dean’s hand. He sits with his back to the headboard, spreading the oil over his dick while Dean quickly preps himself.

“You’re getting quite good at that,” Castiel says, chuckling when he notices Dean’s face grow warm.

“Shut up!” he says as he comes to straddle him. “Ready?”

Castiel nods, holding the base of his dick. It doesn’t matter how quickly they fell into bed, time seems to come to a stop when Dean starts sinking down. Their eyes are locked together and if anyone would try to tell Dean it took him a whole hour for his ass to swallow Cas’s dick whole, he’d believe it. Once down to the hilt, he stay still and waits, his eyes never leaving his lover’s.

“Now would be a good time to move, Dean,” Castiel says, his voice strained.

Of course, Dean agrees, but he has other plans in mind. He lifts his chin, defiant. “Make me!”

The last word ends in a yelp as he finds himself being flung to his back, Castiel almost sliding out to ram back into him with a grunt. “You asked for it,” he then says, pistoning into him as he pinches a nipple so hard it makes Dean cry out.

“Yeah! You think you’re so hot, trying to order me around.” As he speaks, he moves in an out without respite, hitting on Dean’s prostate almost at every thrust. It’s like a revelation for Dean when Castiel wraps a strong hand over his throat, making it increasingly harder for him to breathe. It’s like a deep sense of purpose washing over him when his surroundings slowly dissipate, hardly noticing how he’s painting his own stomach with precome now.

Soon, Dean can’t hear anything anymore, the overwhelming lust like ocean waves in his ears. When he comes, it’s like he’s diving off a cliff to tumble into the abyss. Blissful, he surrenders to the fall, letting himself drown into his pleasure.

When he’s able to open his eyes again, it feels as if he’s waking up from a nap. The room is silent and Castiel is in his back, solid and warm. He doesn’t see the alarm clock from where he is and for some reason, he seems to have lost his watch during that last romp. When he tries to move, Castiel’s grip on him tightens.

“Sleep, my love,” he mumbles, the hand he has on Dean’s midsection splayed wide.

“Gotta pee,” Dean says, delicately pulling Castiel’s hand away from him. “Be back in a sec.”

Castiel huffs, but lets him go. Dean winces as he sits up, both from the sensations in his ass and how all of his other muscles feel heavy as lead. He drags his feet toward the bathroom and sits on the toilet, not in the mood to stand up and try aiming. On the counter, there’s a used washcloth. He looks down at himself to see he’s much cleaner than he should be.

“Huh…” he lets out, having to admit he doesn’t remember how things ended, not really. He doesn’t remember Cas coming, which is a pity, really. He doesn’t remember washing up either.

When he comes back to the room, he spots a bottle of water and a bag of saltines on the dresser, along with his watch. Castiel is fast asleep, now hugging the pillow Dean had been using. He opens a drawer to put on some underwear – god he’d missed his good underwear – before going to the kitchen. Stuck under a magnet on the fridge is a delivery menu for the best pizzeria in town; they deserve that title mostly because they deliver food and alcohol until very late on the weekends. Dean takes it and grabs his phone, his stomach growling he’s so hungry.

The order is delivered twenty-five minutes later, which is kind of a record for a Saturday night. Seeing as he forgot to put on a robe before answering, he gives the scowling delivery woman a generous tip before bringing everything back to the room.

“Grub’s on,” he says as he puts the box on the bed and dips to kiss Castiel on the forehead. Castiel hums, opening a single eye to glare at him.

“I’m sleeping,” he says, closing it again.

“You gotta eat.” Dean opens the box to grab a slice, taking a huge bite out of it. “You need all your strength if you wanna keep on fucking me like that, old man.”

This time, Castiel opens both eyes. “I don’t even have five years on you, you ass,” he says as he pushes himself into a sitting position. “And I’m not the one who blacked out,” he adds, looking falsely innocent as he grabs himself a slice.

Dean hums. “Is that what happened? I mean, I don’t remember much of anything… I came and then I woke up.” He points his chin at the saltines. “Did you try feeding me those? They’re old as shit.”

“I did… I’ll admit, I’m not sure if you blacked out or just fell asleep you were so tired. Nevertheless, you weren’t really responsive, hardly nibbled on a cracker and drank some water. I washed up you up, cuddled with you… I too must have fallen asleep at some point.” Castiel takes another bite of his pizza and quickly swallows it. “How are you feeling?”

“Great… I’m a bit sore all over, but it’s normal I guess.” He winks. “I haven’t exercised this much in a long time.” He dips to grab a couple of beers from the floor and pops them open.

“Same with me, I won’t lie,” Castiel says as he takes the can Dean is handing him. “I honestly don’t know how I’ll manage going back home without you,” he says after taking a couple of sips. “Not saying this to put pressure on you, it’s just—”

“I get it, Cas… I’m exactly where you are. I can’t imagine not being able to touch you every minute of every day.” As he says that, he moves his foot to rest it against Castiel’s leg, making him smile. “I’m sure it won’t be like that forever, but that’s how it feels right now. And it’s kinda weird, ain’t it? Like… crazy fast?”

“Are you worried this thing between us may just be a flash in the pan?”

Dean shrugs, yet still gives him a small nod. Castiel sighs, dropping his half-eaten slice back into the box. “The thought crossed my mind too. And if that’s what this is, then so be it. It doesn’t feel temporary at the moment, but I’m prepared for it to be.”

“God, I really hope it’s not…”

Castiel nods and smiles before leaning forward to kiss his lips. Dean hums, his lover’s lips tasting like the pizza they’ve been munching on. Castiel responds in kind before leaning backward to pick his slice back up again and take a bite. Dean also takes a bite of his, the two looking at each other as they chew.

“What will you do if you lose your job? What are your plans?” Castiel asks once he’s swallowed. He picks a piece of pepperoni off the slice, then drop everything back in the box instead of eating it.

Dean shrugs, munching on the last of his own slice. He swallows and grabs a second one before responding. “I like cars. I could be a mechanic, maybe.”

“Here in Kansas City?”

“Well…” Dean swallows, panic starting to peak its ugly head again. “I mean… Sam’s here, and I got friends too. And… I mean, I meant it, what I said, it’s just—”

“Dean, breathe…” Castiel says, putting a steadying hand over his shoulder. Dean’s eyes are drawn to it, the presence hot enough to burn. “I’m not asking you to move to Montpelier, relax. I’m only asking out of curiosity. Of course you’d want to stay where your life is. I could see myself visiting you here from time to time, if you’d like that. You could also come and visit me whenever you feel like it.”

“You’d wanna do that? A long-distance relationship type thing?”

This time, Castiel chuckles, taking Dean’s forgotten pizza out of his hand to put it back in the box. He raises Dean’s hand to start licking his fingers clean. Dean lets him do it, licking his own lips at the sight. Castiel ends his cleaning job with a soft kiss on Dean’s open palm.

“I don’t think I want to talk about this right now. And if I’d known it’d send you into some sort of panic, I wouldn’t have said a word about it.” Castiel gets to his knees between Dean’s thighs.

He kisses his temple. “I want us to enjoy our time together…”

He kisses his brow. “As if it were to be the last time…”

He kisses his nose, licking the tip. “And I don’t want to think about later… not right now.”

Before Dean can say a single word, Castiel kisses his lips. Dean kisses him back as he wraps his arms around Castiel and guides his legs to wrap around his lover’s waist.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Dean is checking himself out in the mirror, making sure the knot of his tie is perfect, when he sees Castiel coming to stand behind him. He smiles and turns around, only to laugh when he notices how Castiel’s own tie is all kinds of crooked.

“You were born rich, man… how do you not know how to do this properly?” he says as he unties it to start over again.

“You should know by now that money has never been what defines me.”

Dean smirks, quickly making his boyfriend presentable before kissing him on the lips. “I know. Still, this should be a basic skill for any self-respecting male.” He huffs and rolls his eyes when Castiel glares at him. “For any self-respecting entity with opposing thumbs. Is that better?”

“I don’t think it’s any better to dismiss those who are thumbless, Dean.”

It’s only because Sam is expecting him to behave that Dean doesn’t push the issue. “Yes, dear, you’re absolutely right,” he only says, kissing him again before taking his hand. “Wanna come see Sam with me?”

“No, you go be with your brother. This is an important day for you both. Plus, I should go find the bride, seeing as I’ll be walking her down the aisle.”

As it often does whenever he’s in Castiel’s presence, Dean’s heart swells. He grabs him in a strong hug, needing to feel him close, even if only for a second. And of course Castiel lets him do it, used by now to Dean’s sudden bursts of affection. Not that he’d ever be against it.

“Thank you for doing this, Cas… the house, everyone helping out, giving Eileen away…”

“No need to thank me, Dean. We’re family, and that’s what family does.” Castiel looks up at Dean, a soft smile on his lips. “You, and Sam, and Eileen, you’re my family now. My permanent family. The others too, they are, just… when they move away, I don’t hear from them or see them as much, you know? They’re more like cousins… the non murderous kind of cousins, that is.”

Dean tightens his hold on Castiel. “You don’t have to worry. I’m never going anywhere.” He looks at his watch and sighs as he untangles himself from Castiel. “It’s almost time… I gotta go check on Sammy. You’re okay?”

Castiel turns to look at himself in the mirror, Dean slapping his hand away when he tries fiddling with his tie.

“Leave it be, you’re gonna mess it up again. See you later, okay?” he says, turning Castiel back around to guide him out of their room. “Go find Eileen, I’ll see you up there,” he adds before kissing him one last time and patting his butt so he’ll start moving.

Castiel complies, crossing to the other side of the house while Dean enters the TV den. Sam is inside, his eyes fixated on the piece of paper holding his written vows.

“Pretty sure you know them by heart, don’t you?”

There’s a bit of panic in Sam’s eyes when he looks up at his brother. Dean chuckles at he comes to take the page from his hands. He folds it, then slides it in the inner pocket of Sam’s jacket, slapping it into place. “You okay?”

Sam swallows, now wringing his hands together. “Eileen’s there, right? She’s coming, right?” Sam asks, his tone pleading.

“Of course, she’s there. Eileen has nothing to do with Jess, all right? I don’t know why that amazing girl loves you that much, but she does and she’s just as excited to marry you as you are to marry her.”

“You really think so?” Sam says, letting his tall frame sink into one of the large recliners Dean bought to replace Charles Novak’s old furniture. That a huge modern TV because, well, he does have some kind of television addiction that needs nurturing.

Dean sits in the other chair and claps his brother over the knee. “Come on, man. How can you even start doubting her? She’s followed you here, didn’t she? If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.”

“Yeah…” Sam lets out after a good minute. “I mean, you came here for Cas and I know you love him a whole lot.”

“And then you moved here because you love me a whole lot,” Dean adds, hitting Sam’s leg again and making him laugh.

“I had a nice job offer.”

“But mostly, you love me a whole lot.”

Before Dean can go and try messing with his brother’s hair, Sam slaps his hand away and gets up to go stand by the door. “Is it time?” he asks, looking himself up in the standing mirror Dean had moved from Naomi’s old luxury room.

Dean looks at his watch and grins as he gets up. “Yup… time for you to go and get married, Sammy.”

When Eileen walked down the aisle holding onto Castiel’s arm, both brothers had gotten emotional. And if Gabriel – who had insisted to be the officiant – had asked Dean if he wanted to marry Cas at that very moment, he would have said yes.

Of course, Gabriel doesn’t ask and goes on to marry Sam and Eileen in front of a whole lot of people. Seeing as neither Sam nor Eileen have much family left, there’s only a handful of their Kansas City friends. The rest are all residents of Paradysum and Montpelier.

Once the ceremony ends, everyone takes their chair to move them to the terrasse where the buffet and dining tables have been set up. Anothing thing Gabriel insisted on doing was prepare the food. And luckily for him, with Krissy now living at Paradysum, he hasn’t been alone to do it all. Others also helped, but the cooking itself has been his and Krissy’s job.

“It was a beautiful ceremony, Dean,” Donna says when she comes to stand next to him. She’s holding baby Alex over her hip, swaying softly from side to side.

Dean smiles and nods. “It was… never seen my brother this happy,” he adds, wiggling his fingers at the little girl who extends her arms at him. Donna rolls her eyes, but still smiles as she transfers the child into Dean’s awaiting arms.

“Glad to see you caved and bought this little kiddo a dress… not freaking out that she’s a girl anymore, then?” Dean asks, Alex giggling from him making her bounce on his hip.

“We never freaked out,” she says, her eyes on Alex. “We were surprised.” She looks up, smiling. “We couldn’t care less about what’s hiding in her diaper, dontcha know.”

Dean nods as they start walking toward the terrace. Jody is already there, having brought hers and Donna’s chairs over. Castiel also brought his own chair and is now sitting at the main table where the newlyweds will be taking place. Dean gives Alex back to her mothers and kisses both Donna and Jody on the cheek before going to join Castiel.

Sitting with his boyfriend will have to wait a bit as he runs into Charlie and her date. Before he gets to speak, Charlie jumps up to wrap her arms around his neck. Dean smiles as he reciprocates, happy she could make it.

“So glad your here, Charlie… was worried you wouldn’t be able to come.”

“Thought so too… wrapped up our last case just in time.” She smiles, taking a step back to take the hand of the woman standing next to her. “This is Dorothy Baum, my new partner… and my date,” she says, beaming.

Dean smiles, shaking hands with the brunette. “Heard a whole lot about you… if you don’t mind my saying, you’re even prettier than Charlie said.”

Both women glance at each other, a bit of heat in their cheeks. Dean gives Charlie’s shoulder a soft squeeze. “I’ll see you girls later,” he says as he once more tries to make his way to Castiel. He’s almost there when he notices Hael standing near the barbecue pit. She’s quietly shedding tears as she watches the speared pig that’s rotating over it.

He goes to stand next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“Sam likes salad and stuff,” she says after letting out a trembling sigh. “Couldn’t we have had a vegetarian dinner for the wedding? I mean…” She stops talking, waving a hand at the roasting pig with her nose scrunched.

“You know you don’t have to eat it, right?”

“I know… but… I’d rather not have to see it either, you know?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t watch, then.”

“I can’t tear my eyes away,” she says, her voice trembling.

As far as Dean is concerned, the roasted pig looks amazingly good and he can’t wait to have a stab at it. He says nothing about that, instead guiding Hael to go sit at her table, making sure she has her back turned to the barbecue pit.

It takes him another five minutes talking to various guests before he gets to sit next to Castiel, who’s busy chatting with Ellen Harvelle. When Castiel sees him, he smiles and takes his hand, keeping his attention on Ellen as she speaks.

“… so I said no. I don’t really care anymore, you know? The insurance never disputed the claim and it’s not like I have anything more to add. Of course, I’ll testify if need be, but Jo and I didn’t get hurt, so we’re good.”

“What are we talking about?” Dean asks.

“I asked Ellen if she’ll be part of the lawsuit we’re filing against Caroline and Michael when all is said and done. I think she should, seeing at it was her business that got burned down.”

“And you won’t?”

Ellen takes a sip of her beer, shaking her head. “Like I was saying, we got all the cash we needed from the insurance, and we didn’t get hurt. People like Krissy and Castiel, or the families of those guys that died, they deserve all the cash they can get.”

“You’re just as deserving, Ellen… the trauma is still there, even if not physical,” Castiel says, a soft smile on his face. “Just think about it, would you? See what Jo says about it all.”

This time, Ellen just nods before going to join her daughter at the sheriff’s table where Crowley and Rowena are also sitting. Castiel turns on his chair to face Dean and leans in for a kiss.

“Hello, Dean,” he says against his mouth before kissing him again.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean responds when Castiel has leaned back. “You okay?”

“Of course. You?”

“I’m great… you saw Sam up there, right? He looked so damn happy.”

Castiel wraps a warm hand behind Dean’s neck. “I’ll admit, I had my eyes on someone else up there.”

Dean smiles. “Well… Eileen was gorgeous. Unless it’s Gabriel in his Buddy Boyle cosplay that got your engines running?”

“Don’t be an assbutt,” Castiel says in a low growl, tightening his grip on Dean’s neck who refrains from moaning by biting at his lower lip. “You know you’re all I could see up there. If Gabriel had asked me if I’d marry you, I would have said yes, no hesitation.”

It doesn’t matter that Dean had had the very same thought, he still feels himself flush. “Yeah… same here,” he admits before grabbing Castiel’s face with both hands to pull him in for another kiss.

It took some time for Eileen and Sam to come back to the party. Eileen had taken time to change into a more casual dress while Sam had lost his jacket and tie to keep the vest and roll up his shirt sleeves.

Against all odds, Lucifer himself had offered to be providing the entertainment when he heard the wedding would be celebrated at Paradysum. Nobody would have ever dared to ask, because they thought he’d never agree. Still, he seems to like Sam and Eileen enough to do this. After Sam had gotten over being all flustered and giggly from Lucifer actually being one of his favorite singers, of course.

One of the things he said he wouldn’t do was act as emcee, so Raphaelle gladly stepped in. She’s looking ultra glamorous, having changed from her earlier pink pantsuit into a red sequined dress, a remnant of her former life that she wore with great pride.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she starts, standing tall in the middle of the mini stage Dean and Garth had built. “Please give a warm welcome to Sam and Eileen who will now have their first dance together as a married couple. Hit it, Luci!”

Rather than clapping their hands, most people shake their hands in the air instead. Some still clap, while others choose to whistle as the first notes of the couple’s chosen song echoe, played by Lucifer and some of his old bandmates. The only condition Lucifer had had to be doing this was not to be asked to sing any of Ladyheart ’s old songs.

Luckily enough, the song Sam and Eileen consider theirs has nothing to do with the band’s catalog. And there’s still enough Vince Vincente left in Lucifer for his interpretation of John Legend’s All of Me to be a little less sappy… in Dean’s taste, anyway. To be honest, it may be the fact that one of Eileen’s friends is on stage with them to sign the lyrics that brings the song to another level of awesome.

And if Dean sheds a tear because of it, it’s nobody else’s business but his… and Castiel’s, seeing as he’s the one who wipes the tear away with his lips.

When the song is over, there’s another round of congratulations and people start invading the makeshift dance floor. Lucifer and his friends go on to play a slew of pop hits, most them from the eighties and nineties, to the guests’ – and Raphaelle’s – delight; she does have an amazing set of pipes on her.

When Sam and Eileen finally make it to their table, Dean gets up to grab them both in a hug.

“So happy for you guys,” he says, his voice a bit strained from the emotion.

“Thank, Dean,” Sam answers, his eyes red-rimmed and shiny. He gets out of his brother’s hold to go and hug Castiel. “And thanks for everything, Cas… could never have imagined a more perfect day,” he says and signs after leaving his hold. “Eileen and I, we’re really grateful.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” Castiel says, glancing at Dean. “Now?” he asks him, to which Dean shrugs.

“It’s your gift, man. You do what you want.”

“Our gift, Dean,” Castiel counters as he reaches in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “You’re just as much a part of this as I am,” he says before handing an envelope to the newlyweds.

Sam frowns, his gaze travelling between Dean and Castiel. “Your gift was to have the wedding here, Cas. We don’t need anymore than that.”

Dean shrugs, both hands in his pockets. “You’ll never be able to make him change his mind, Sammy. Just take the thing and say thank you.”

Sam rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling when he hugs Castiel again. “Thank you, Cas… still, you shouldn’t have, really.” As he speaks, he opens the envelope. When he sees what’s inside, he gapes at the men. “No… we can’t accept this.”