Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

On Tuesdays, Dean can't seem to get his mind to work. Tuesday is his Monday, which is the only day of the week when it's acceptable to moan and groan in protest. His alarm blares beside him, and he almost wants to call in sick just to sleep for a few more hours. He knows he's a dick for even thinking it, so he forces himself to get his ass into gear and get moving.

"I hate Tuesday," He mumbles, sitting up and wiping the sleep from his eyes. He reaches out to grab his phone, nearly blinding himself to disable his alarm. He can already tell that it's going to be a long day. He groans as he makes his way to the shower. 

His apartment is small, but it suits his needs. It's newly remodeled, and white is the most dominant color. It makes him feel like he's in a hospital. It's sterile. He could add some personal touches, but that would mean he's staying for a while, and that's never really been an option.

He currently lives in a small town where nothing major ever happens, and that's how he likes it. Low key and boring. There's also the fact that not a soul knows where he comes from or about his past. That alone is a blessing he thanks the universe for every day.

His drive to work is short, but he finds comfort in the sound the engine of his 67' Impala makes when he accelerates. He smiles as he approaches the gates to Singer Waste Management. His boss, Bobby, is standing outside. He pulls through with a wave to the older man. The man nods and follows him on foot.

"Mornin' Dean," Bobby says as he approaches the office. His voice is gruff and familiar.

"Mornin'," Dean replies as Bobby passes him. Dean watches as the man steps into the office on the side of the garage for staff vehicles. Bobby is the closest thing to family he has out here. Dean's dad had known him when he was younger, but they don't talk about it.

"Summer's almost over," Bobby says. "We're gonna have to start preppin' for winter pretty soon." He hands Dean the keys to his truck. She's old but gets the job done. If you had asked Dean what he wanted to be when he was a kid, he wouldn't have said a garbage man, but the job was one of the only ones available when he first moved to town. He's grown to like it. He makes enough money to live on, save, and send some to his younger brother. Stanford's debt wouldn't pay for itself, no matter how many internships and odd jobs his brother could find.

"See ya in a few hours," Dean says and walks to his truck.

His morning is like all his mornings, except he has the downtown route on Tuesday. It's not hard, but he hates having to fight with traffic. Residential areas are more accessible because it's easier to maneuver around cars, toys, and other things people leave lying around. People are terrible drivers downtown.

It's nearing the end of his route when Dean takes a break. He parks the truck and pulls out his uneaten lunch. It's not much, but he enjoys his turkey sandwich and chips. He doesn't usually eat in his rig, but he's running behind due to the traffic. Summer is nearly over, and the townies are coming back to town to prepare for winter and the school year.

After finishing his sandwich and chips, he opens his water and takes a few sips to wash it down. He's screwing the cap back on when his phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Hey Dean, you working?"

"You know I work on Tuesdays," Dean laughs.

"Right,"  Sam says.   

"What's up? How're classes?"

"Oh, you know,"  Sam pauses and sighs softly,  "I met someone."

Dean shifts in his seat and looks out into the alleyway. Sam has a way of continually asking questions that aren't really questions. "Alright, what's going on? Are you okay?"

Sam laughs,  "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just...well, there's this girl-"

"Oh, Sammy, you've come to the right place! What do you want to know?" Dean knows he sounds like a smug sonofabitch. He smiles and relaxes in his chair. He leans back and throws his feet up on the dashboard.

"Dean, gross."  Sam chastises. " I want to ask her out, but she's... she's amazing. You know? Smart and beautiful. Probably way out of my league."

"Two words: Study date. That way, if it goes to shit, you can just focus on your books and whatever. Or, you can take her for a drink if it goes well."

"I don't know why I didn't think of that. Well, listen, Dad called and is asking about Thanksgiving."

"I don't know, Sammy," Dean says and scrubs a hand across his face. The truth is, there is no way he's returning to his hometown for Thanksgiving. It sucks when Sam asks if he's coming to visit. Dean doesn't have the heart to tell him he's not and won't and that it would have to be a cold day in Hell before he ever set foot in his father's house again.

"Alright, well, think about it?"

The hopefulness in Sam's voice tugs at his heartstrings.

"Yeah, I'll think about it."

It's nearing the end of his break when he sees a man sitting in the alley, sprawled out between two dumpsters. His head is tipped against the brick wall, and his mouth hangs slightly open. Dean stops and stares for a moment to make sure the man is breathing.

"Alright, well, I'll call you later. Thanks, jerk." 

"See you, bitch." Dean replies and laughs a little. They had been calling each other dumb names before Sam could even say words. But, for some reason, those two stuck. 

He looks into the alley again and see's the guy move a little. Dean presses on the horn to signal he's backing up, and the guy jumps and glares at him. Dean smiles and sheepishly waves as if to say, "sorry for the horn." The man looks at Dean and frowns as he backs out of the alley and returns to his route.

Chapter Text

The following Tuesday is similar to the previous one. Again, traffic is a nightmare, and Sam calls. They talk about how well the study date had gone and that he and this girl, Jess, have another date planned for the weekend at a coffee shop near campus. He also shares that he got another promising internship. 

Dean's glad Sam is fitting in. Lord knows he never really fit in at home. Neither of them did. For Dean, it was all about making money to get outta there. For Sam, it was all about school. They both had their own escapes. 

When he nears the end of his route, he sees the same man sitting near some dumpsters behind the bakery. This time, he's reading a book. He has a half-eaten sandwich and a water bottle resting on his leg. Dean places a hand on the steering wheel and presses down twice quickly to signal he will back up. As the horn blares from the truck, the man's book flies in the air, and his sandwich falls to the ground. Dean chuckles and waves, but the man only glares at him. Dean smiles until he sees the man pick up the sandwich like it's a dead family pet or something. He looks it over in his hands, and even from where Dean sits, he can see the man sigh heavily.

The third time Dean sees the man between the dumpsters, he realizes he might be homeless. He can't help the guilt that washes over him. He wasn't trying to be a jackass with the honking. It's protocol. The weight of knowing that he had been the reason the man lost part of a meal leaves him feeling like the world's biggest asshole.

After his shift, he drives to the convenience store and picks up a few sandwiches and a bottle of water to take to the man. He parks his car in the alley a block from where the man typically sits. He's reading again, but he doesn't look up. Dean grips the bag a little tighter. This may be a mistake. What if this guy was a serial killer or something?

Even with his heart beating a million miles a second and his sweating palms, he walks up to the guy and clears his throat. The man looks up, and suddenly Dean's looking into the most captivating blue eyes he has ever seen. A moment passes before he realizes he's staring at the man.

"I- last week, you dropped your sandwich. I mean, it was my fault," He's rambling. "But anyway, I got these for you."

The other man stares at the bag. Dean doesn't think he will take it, but slowly he reaches up, takes the plastic bag from Dean's hand, and sets it on the ground next to him.

"Thank you." The man says. His voice is deep and gravelly and not what Dean was expecting. 

Dean nods at the guy in response. The man doesn't say anything else. He just picks up his book and starts reading again. Dean backs away and heads back to his car. He can admit that the interaction was awkward, but he feels better having done something for someone else. Over the next few days, Dean goes out of his way to bring the guy a few things here and there. Of course, the man always says thank you, and Dean promptly leaves. 

The second Tuesday in September is the same as the others, but when he walks out to his car, there is a slight chill in the air, and he can see his breath a little when he exhales. He goes inside and grabs old gloves for the man by the dumpster. They're worn, and the outer layer of the fabric is cracking, but the insides are fleece and warm and soft. He also makes an extra sandwich and fills another thermos with hot coffee.

Getting to the end of his route takes forever. He's anxious to get to the guy and give him the stuff. The sun is out, but a crisp breeze makes Dean's cheeks and nose feel like they are on fire. He takes the truck back to the yard and returns after he's off the clock.

"Hello?" Dean calls out, he turns to look around a few spots in the area, but he can't find the guy anywhere. So he searches again near the usual place and sees the guy's bag stuffed under the stairs that lead up the side of the building. Dean knows better than to touch the bag but can't help the panic rising up in his chest. What if he got sick out here? What if he's hurt? Or worse?

Dean runs back to his car, and on his way home, he stops at the two shelters in town and the hospital to look for the guy. Dean quickly realizes it will be impossible to find someone whose name he doesn't know. He doesn't know him. Not really. He doesn't know anything about him. He can't help but feel guilty that he's been bringing him stuff for a month, yet he can't take the time to learn his name?

The drive home takes too long, leaving Dean in a sour mood. He feels like an asshole, making him think about the months before he left his old home. Then, he had been more or less homeless. He had been practically living in his car for a few weeks before a friend stepped in and helped him get back on his feet.

He doesn't like to think about his past, but what if this man is in a similar situation? So he makes a mental note to see if he can find him after his shift tomorrow. He will ask his name and find out what he's doing for Thanksgiving. It's still a month away, but it doesn't hurt to ask.

Chapter Text

The next day, after Dean's shift, he showers quickly and is out of there before Bobby can question him about why he's in such a hurry. He drives downtown, parks his car at the park and ride, and walks the three blocks to where the blue-eyed man usually hangs out. He carries an old backpack with the gloves, a sandwich, an apple, and a large water bottle. He stuffed a burger and fries in there too. Finally, he rounds the corner into the alley and sees the man sitting there wrapped up in a dirty trench coat. He's asleep, and Dean can't help but feel instant relief that the man looks unharmed.

Dean bends down and taps him on the shoulder, "Hey," The man opens his eyes and pulls the coat up as if to hide from an intruder.

"Sorry, I... I'm...sorry."

"Hey, no need to apologize. Didn't mean to scare you. I brought you some stuff yesterday, and you weren't here. Kinda freaked me out, man. It's getting colder out here," Dean stands, and his eyes land on the man's face. He looks awful. He could use a shower and a shave. Maybe some food.

Dean pulls the pack off his back, and the man's eyes land on the bag, following it as Dean unzips it. He tenses as he pulls out the bag with the hamburger and fries and hands it to the guy. It's still warm. The man relaxes, takes the burger, unwraps it faster than possible, and shoves it in his mouth.

"These make me very...happy," He says, smiling around his second bite. Dean can't help but smile too.

"Yeah, me too," Dean sits next to the guy, and the guy stops chewing and stares at him. "What?"

"Why do you keep bringing me things?" The man asks. He sets the burger down on his lap and frowns. Dean feels like he should tell him the truth. It could be a half-truth.

Dean sighs and looks around the area, "I was in a similar position a few years ago. There weren't many people who helped me, and those who did weren't what they seemed to be."

At least it wasn't a total lie.

"Are you like those people?"

"No, no. I'm nothing like them," Dean turns to the guy and sighs, "When I was down on my luck, no one really cared what happened to me. You weren't here yesterday, and I...I just wanted to make sure you're alright."

The man stares at him, his face softens, and his cheeks slightly turn pink, "Thank you."

"No problem. So, what's your name?" Dean asks. He pulls the open backpack towards himself, pulls out a bottle of water, and hands it to the guy.

"Castiel," He replies and takes the bottle from Dean's hands. He opens it, drinking half the bottle in just a few seconds.

"Weird name. Are you named after a family member or something?"

"I'm named after an angel. My family is very religious. I have three brothers and a sister. We're all named after angels," Castiel sets the bottle down and picks up the burger again.

"That's pretty cool. I'm Dean," Dean smiles, and so does Castiel. Dean feels himself starting to feel comfortable, and panic sets in. He came to this town to get away and start over. He didn't want to get to know people. He stands up quickly, wiping his hands on his jeans, "I'm gonna get going, but this stuff is for you," He pokes the backpack with the toe of his boot.

"Thank you, Dean." Cas stands and reaches out the hand not occupied by a hamburger. Dean takes it and gives it a firm shake before turning to leave. He feels a little guilty for suddenly leaving, but he's done okay without friends. The guy seems normal, aside from his weird name, but who knows. 

He's halfway back to his car when he remembers he didn't ask about Castiel's plans for Thanksgiving. Something in his brain tells him to keep walking; he doesn't need to let anyone in. But he can also hear his brother saying, "Help him. Turn back and help him." So he turns around with a groan.

As he approaches Castiel again, he sees he's putting things into the backpack Dean had left. Dean shoves his hands into his pockets and leans up against the dumpster next to him.

"You leaving?" Dean asks. 

Castiel looks up and nods, "Yes, I'm allowed to stay here until 4. The owner of this building is very kind."

Dean's heart clenches, and he hates what he's about to do, "I don't do this. But I have a couch if you want to get off the street for a bit. My apartment is small but warm, and you can shower and whatever."

Castiel takes his time to answer, "No, thank you."

Dean's mouth drops open, "What?"

"I appreciate what you have done for me, but this is where I belong."

"Hey, man, no one just belongs on the street." Dean's shocked at how upset he feels and how worried he is that Castiel wants to take his chances in the elements. "I don't know your story, and I'm not askin', but I've got more than enough at home."

"I appreciate the offer, but no, thank you." Castiel starts to walk away, and Dean follows. Castiel stops abruptly and spins around; his face is so close to Dean's that he can feel the man's warm breath, "I said no."

"Alright. Sorry. I didn't mean to push," Dean puts his hands up in defense and takes a step back.

"Goodbye, Dean," Castiel says, turns around, and walks away, clutching the backpack to his body as if it's going to protect him. Dean scrubs and hand over his face and watches as Cas rounds the corner

Chapter Text

It's Saturday, Dean's day off, and he's awake too early. He saw Cas a couple days ago and apologized to Cas. He's still slightly surprised that Cas had agreed to lunch today. But he would be lying if he said he wasn't excited.

He takes a shower hoping to waste a little time. He makes himself an elaborate breakfast and even cleans the kitchen right away. Unfortunately, it's still too early, at nine in the morning. Maybe he'll catch up on some TV. He turns on his favorite show and watches it for five minutes before he sighs in frustration. He can't focus. He may walk downtown and wait for Cas to show up. He had yet to be downtown as a tourist, which could waste a reasonable amount of time. On the other hand, it could be a learning experience about the place he currently calls home.

He drives downtown and parks at the park & ride. He's shocked at all the little stores packed into such a small area. He finds a small bookstore and goes in to find something to send Sam. He likes books about supernatural lore and historical fiction. Running his hands across the spines of all the different books, he looks for something obscure. He picks one up about vampires and flips through it.

"Vampires?" He hears from behind him. He knows who the voice belongs to before he even turns around. There is a spike in his heart rate, but he plays it cool. 

"It's for my brother. He's into this stuff," He replies and closes the book. Dean looks down at his watch, hoping he's on time for lunch. He should have paid more attention to time once he entered the store.

"I saw you come in," Cas offers and smiles. It's a small thing, but Dean will take it. Unfortunately, Dean's already aware that Cas doesn't smile enough.

Dean buys the vampire book and has it shipped to his brother.

_____________________________________

The two men exit the bookstore and walk toward the center of town. Cas discusses the weather and bees while he picks up litter on the sidewalk. He also talks about the mating cycles of deer and rabbits, and other various animals. Dean talks about cars and work. Neither of them talks about their family or anything too personal.

"So, what do you do all day?" Dean asks.

"This," He says and holds up the garbage bag, "Whatever I can." 

Dean can't believe his eyes when Cas offers to help an old lady cross the street a few moments later. The woman hands Cas a few small bills. He thanks her, placing the money in his pocket.

It's then that Dean realizes where they are headed. Bobby talked about the homeless camp near the park when a few people had come to trade cans for cash. They walk for about ten minutes before he sees the tops of tents and tarps hanging from trees. He feels a pang of guilt as he follows closely behind Cas. Maybe Cas has a family out here.

"Is this where you live, Cas?" Dean asks curiously. The nickname slips out.

"Cas?" The other man asks. He doesn't look mad. Just curious.  

Dean can feel the blush coloring his cheeks, "Uh, yeah."

"I like it," he states and continues to walk towards the tents.

Finally, they make it to the park's edge, and Cas holds a branch back and waits for Dean to pass. But, if he's honest with himself, he's terrified about what he will see. His experience with these types of places could be better. 

The trail they are on leads to a small clearing with three rows of tents that make a half circle. There's a fire pit in the middle with several chairs around it. The people who occupy the area are milling around. Some of them are sitting near the fire. Some are talking with others in the group. 

A tall man near the fire waves the two men over, "Castiel! Looks like you brought home some extra baggage."

Cas smiles and walks into the larger man's arms, and they embrace quickly. The man reaches out a hand to Dean and nods at him. Dean takes his hand and nods in return.

"I'm Dean." He can't help but keep looking between Castiel and this other person who might be Castiel's partner. 

"Benny," The man takes his hand from Dean's and turns back to the line of people behind him. 

"Benny works at the barber shop downtown. He comes out here twice a month for free haircuts and shaves."

"That explains the peach fuzz, Cas," Dean says and reaches out a hand to touch Cas' face before he can stop himself. He just touched Cas's face. He thinks he can see Cas blush, but he ignores it.

"So, tell me about this place," Dean says and turns in a slow circle taking in the views of tents and people lining up where Benny is setting up his station.

"Most of these people are good people. They're- they're doing what they have to do." Dean hears that Castiel's voice changes when talking about people doing what they must do. He must genuinely know the kinds of things people have to do to survive. Cas turns and starts walking towards the tents. Dean follows.

Dean is about to change the subject when he sees a kid wearing the hoodie he gave Cas a month ago. His gaze follows an elderly lady wearing his gloves, and he spots a man about his age with his backpack. He now understands why Cas has refused his offer to stay at his apartment. Cas does have a family. Maybe not in the traditional sense, but Dean gets it.

"What do you do when you aren't downtown bothering me?" Dean laughs, and Cas turns around, and Dean doesn't have time to move out of the way. His face inches from Dean's.

"I bother you?" He asks softly. His face is solemn. Dean takes a step back and puts his hands up in defense.

"No, no. I was kidding! I mean, if anything, I bother you," He defends. Cas seems to relax and starts walking again. Dean follows. Further away from him this time. Cas clearly has little or no concept of personal space, and Dean wants to avoid getting caught off guard again.

"This is where I stay," Cas says, and he steps into a large canvas tent. The space is clean and very well put together. It's bigger than he initially thought. There's a bed built on pallets in the center of the tent. There are three makeshift bookshelves filled with books, and there's even a small cabinet filled with canned foods and bottles of water.

"Looks like you've got it made," Dean smiles nervously and sits on the folding chair near the entry.

"I do have it better than some," Cas says and sets his bag down. He pulls out several bags of bagels. Dean watches as he takes two and puts them aside. He then pulls out a tray from under the bed and places the bagels carefully on the tray. Cas' hands look cold. His long fingers pick up each bagel gently. 

"So, does the bakery give you those?"

Cas nods and then," I don't steal them. If that's what you're asking."

"No, I don't think you steal. Just curious," Dean stands and looks at some of the books on the bookshelves. He hasn't read any of the titles, but some of them look interesting. He takes one off the shelf and turns it over in his hands. "I loan books out to the others. I guess it's kind of like a library," Cas says. Dean turns to look at him. He's holding the tray of bagels, and there are now a few muffins on top.

"So, that whole cliche attractive librarian thing?" Dean blurts.

Cas tilts his head, and Dean's eyes go wide. He turns to the shelf and puts the book back to hide his embarrassment.

What the fuck am I saying? Do I not have a fucking filter? Jesus Christ, Dean.

"I'm going to pass these out if you want to join me," Cas says. Dean is thankful the other man doesn't say anything about calling him attractive.

"Yeah, sure," Dean shoves his hands in his pockets as they walk back to the line in front of Benny.

Dean counts seven people in the line. A couple of the people look intense, but everyone seems to have a sense of belonging, and Dean feels envious of them. He used to belong somewhere. He had a family like this once. People from broken homes struggling to make life worth it. They are just trying to make it by doing anything they can. He can understand that.

Cas starts handing out the baked goods from the back of the line and moves toward the front. The last person to grab a bagel is the elderly lady wearing Dean's old gloves. She's sitting in an old computer chair, and her feet dangle a few inches above the ground.

"Who's this?" She asks, looking at Dean. She then promptly stuffs the bagel in her mouth. Again, she stares at Dean while she chews, making him feel like a bug under a magnifying glass.

"This is Dean. He used to own those gloves you're wearing," Cas sets the nearly empty tray down next to him on Benny's work table and smiles at her. The woman keeps looking at Dean.

"My hands get so damn cold," She says and smiles. "This angel shows up with them one day. Handed them right over like it was no big deal. Always taking care of us." 

"You're welcome," Castiel says as Benny walks up behind her and begins to spray her hair. Her hair grays at the roots, but it's a deep chocolate brown towards the ends.

"Benjamin, don't go cuttin' off too much! Pay attention to what you're doing, alright?" She snaps. There's no actual malice in her voice. Benny just smiles and runs his hands through the long strands. "I'm serious, young man!"

"Yes, ma'am," Benny replies and starts trimming the ends of her hair. Dean watches as Benny moves. He's like a samurai with scissors. Dean catches his own reflection in the mirror Benny has set up. He looks like a lumberjack, and not in a good way. He makes a mental note to make an appointment. 

Cas gets his haircut and shave last. Benny takes a little more time with him. He even takes the time to wash his hair. Dean isn't entirely sure, but as Benny is scrubbing Cas's scalp, he thinks he might feel jealous.

Benny tips the computer chair back and starts rinsing the shampoo from Cas's scalp. The smell of the soap is overwhelming. It smells like pine trees, spice, and a hint of something sweet. After the soap is rinsed, Benny towels off Cas' head, and his hair is sticking up all over the place. Dean snorts in laughter.

"What?" He asks. His face is serious, but his hair looks insane. Dean wants to respond, he really does, but Cas just looks too damn stupid to be taken seriously and laughs louder while he pulls out his phone. It reminds him of all the times Sam had experimented using a blow dryer. Cas keeps glaring even after Dean has snapped a photo.

"Take a look, Mufasa," Dean chuckles. Cas's eyes leave Dean's face and land on the phone. His expression changes to a much softer one, and slight smile forms on his face. Dean pulls his phone out of Cas's view and pockets it, shaking his head. "I've only seen one other person with hair like that!"

"I suppose I take after my mother in that area," He says simply. Benny pauses and looks at Dean, who meets his eyes. It's like he's trying to convey some kind of message. Like something important had happened, and he missed it. Benny doesn't say anything. Instead, he looks at Dean while his hands move in Cas' hair.

"How much do you want to cut today?" Benny asks, his gaze doesn't leave Dean's face. It feels like he's trying to get inside Dean's head and see the darkest corners of his mind.

"I'm going to try applying for a bakery job."

That statement causes Benny's hands to freeze and drop his gaze to the top of Castiel's head.

"You sure?" Benny asks.

"Yes."

Benny nods in an understanding of what Cas needs and gets to work. Something happened there, and Dean is wildly aware he missed it. 

Cas's face relaxes, and Dean can't help but feel like he wants to be the reason he looks so content. In fact, if he was honest with himself, he'd really like to be the one running his hands through Cas's hair.

"I have some clothes you can borrow if you want," Dean offers. He stares at the hands in Cas's hair. Dean doesn't miss the way Benny grabs a handful of Cas's hair and pulls on it gently. Cas closes his eyes again, and Benny gives Dean a shit-eating grin like he knows something that Dean doesn't. "I'm gonna go check out your library."

He walks away before Cas can give any kind of response.

I'm so fucked.

Dean's sitting on Cas' bed, skimming through a book about extreme outdoor camping when Cas walks into the tent. His hair is shorter and styled in a way that makes Dean's mouth go dry. Cas's face is smooth, and Dean feels like he's seeing him for the first time all over again. The sight of the new look makes him stare longer than he intended to.

"Are you alright, Dean?" Cas asks, concerned. He sets his jacket down on the back of the chair inside the tent. He looks so different without his oversized trench coat on. Instead, he's wearing a plain gray fitted t-shirt and faded blue jeans. Jeans that Dean is pretty sure were sent from heaven because they look perfect. On his feet, he's wearing a pair of beat-up Chuck Taylors. He's sure his mouth is hanging open. "Dean?"

"Wha-oh. Yeah. I'm fine, Cas." Dean sets the book down on the bed. He watches as Cas walks over to a hanging bag, unzips it, and pulls out a dark red-colored zipper hoodie. Castiel is putting his arms through the sleeves when Dean's mind brings back a memory from his past, which isn't where he wants it to come up.

"You ready to go?" Cas asks and zips up the sweatshirt. It's like the piece of clothing is mocking him. "I'll walk you to your car. I'm gonna pick up an application at the bakery." Cas smiles.

"Yes, let's go." This shouldn't be happening. This isn't a thing that happens to him. Dean feels like he's overheating. He's gotta get outta the tent. It's suddenly too small and too confining. He pushes past Cas and starts towards the trail. He hears Benny yell something behind him, and Dean waves over his shoulder. His breathing is erratic, and his vision is blurring.

Oh, for fucks sake, a panic attack? Now? Of all places, Winchester.

He stops walking when he reaches the bench at the entrance to the trail and sits down, trying to catch his breath. He feels a hand on his back. The applied pressure starts moving, rubbing small reassuring circles. "Hey, you're alright, brother. Deep breaths."

It takes Dean a few minutes to realize that it's not Cas touching him but Benny. Once he's able, he sits up and sees Cas standing in front of him. The hoodie is covered by a light blue windbreaker, and Dean feels instant relief. He remembers Benny is next to him. Benny is talking, but he's only sure what he's saying once he registers the water bottle in front of his face. Dean takes it and takes a few sips.

"What was that all about?" Benny asks and takes the bottle from Dean's hands. Dean doesn't have an answer he feels comfortable saying, so he stays quiet and leans back, closing his eyes. He can't just tell them about his past or explain that seeing that hoodie makes him feel like he's somewhere else. Somewhere he doesn't want to be. "Dean?"

"Just give me a minute," Dean replies and opens his eyes again. Big white fluffy clouds are passing above him, and he focuses on them until he's calmed down. "Thanks."

"No problem. Military," Benny says. Dean doesn't need an explanation. He understands. Cas is on his other side and looks like he's seen a ghost. Benny picks up his pack and takes off in the other direction after Dean assures him that he's alright.

"Was it too much?" Cas asks quietly. Dean stops and forces himself to look at his friend. Cas looks nervous. Dean has to stop himself from reaching out to the other man. He wants to tell him everything. He should have someone to talk to about all this because he knows pushing it down forever will eat him alive.

"I have a past," Dean starts. He has to take a few mind-clearing breaths. "I have a past that... It's not too much, Cas. I just- I need to go home."

Cas nods and starts walking, leaving Dean to catch up. They walk across the park toward the lot where Dean is parked in silence.

"I understand pain, and I understand having a past you want to hide from," His tone was not angry but pain-filled. Cas turns and goes towards the bakery, and Dean drives home.

Dean's confused about Castiel's revelation. It was like he wanted Dean to know but didn't want to discuss it further. It could be his way of saying that he understands and is there if Dean needs anything. He's starting to realize Cas's way of communicating is different from what he's used to. He's blunt and only speaks when he wants. He doesn't like small talk but will give long-winded speeches about the things he's interested in. He realizes there is so much he doesn't know about Castiel, but he wants to.

Chapter Text

Dean's Sundays are usually spent watching television shows, drinking beer, and coming up with awesome and easy recipes to send to Sam. Today, he has an appointment at Benny's shop to get a haircut and shave.

Benny's shop is a few doors down from the bookstore. It's small and looks like something out of a magazine, complete with an old school coke machine and dark hardwood floors. Dean enters and is greeted by a redhead who introduces herself as Charlie.

While he waits his turn, she talks about Star Wars and her crazy weekend adventures in the park doing something called LARPing. Dean is still wondering what LARPing is, but she's so passionate about it that she keeps his attention.

"What do you do for fun?" She asks. It's a simple question, but it really makes him think. There isn't anything that he does in his spare time that means anything. Of course, there is the whole thing with Cas, but he wouldn't say semi-stalking a homeless man was a hobby he could brag about.

"Nothing, really," He says as Benny motions for him to sit in one of the chairs.

"What?" There is a scandalized look on her face, "Dude, there is so much to do here. I mean, the bar scene is snoozeville and full of misogynistic douchebags. Still, there are some awesome events that some of the local places put on. You should come out with me one of these days."

"I don't know about that," He says. He eyes Benny while he mixes the shaving cream in the small bowl he's holding. Charlie follows as he sits down. He looks her up and down as discreetly as possible. She's cute but not really his type. 

Is she hitting on me?

"Well, what kind of stuff do you like to do?" Again, this is a simple question. What does he like? What is he even good at? Cars. He's good at fixing up cars, and he likes trying new beers and cooking. He might like being outdoors, but he has yet to test that theory.

"I dunno, stuff?" Of course, it comes out like a question. Charlie plops down in the chair next to him and scoffs. He's clearly not passing any of her tests.

"The girlfriend and I like to go to The Roadhouse. It's pretty cool. LGBT friendly, if you care about that kind of thing." She says plainly and looks at her nails as if they are the most exciting thing in the room. 

That answers that question. 

He realizes this is a test. It's the same way that Sam will say things as statements when they should be questions. She looks him in the eye, and he's about to tell her that he's bi, but Benny starts speaking first. 

"I met Dean through Castiel," Benny says. Then, "Alright, brother, no moving. I'm gonna have to use my electric first to get some of this hair outta the way." 

Part of him thinks that Benny brought Cas up at this exact moment on purpose.

"Oh, ol' blue eyes, huh?" She laughs. Dean realizes there's a story there but doesn't ask any questions. He's learned that people should be able to tell their own stories. 

"Helped Castiel hand out some baked goods. Did I tell you he has an interview at the bakery?" This little piece of information makes Charlie perk up. She sits up and turns her entire body towards Benny.

"Really?" Dean pretends not to be listening as Benny continues cutting hair from his face. But, to be honest, he's terrified that this man, whom he barely knows, will slit his throat and laugh at him while he bleeds out.

"I guess he's ready."

"Good. That's really good," Charlie says quietly. He takes a quick peek at her face. She looks genuinely happy for him, but the hint of sadness in her voice makes Dean wonder what the story behind the sadness is.

Benny tips Dean's head back and places a warm washcloth on his face and neck. It feels weird to have someone touching him like this. It feels foreign and strange. He realizes it's been a long time since he's touched another person for longer than a handshake, and both times that it's happened recently have been by Benny.

"Are you going to see him again, Dean?" Charlie asks. His eyes open, and he stares at her. At this point, he doesn't know. It feels weird with Cas now.

"Our conversation was awkward." Apparently, everyone in this damn town is good at making Dean talk when he doesn't want to.

"That's Castiel for you. He's a bundle of awkwardness. What happened?" She asks and moves to the chair across from him. That had been the day he had his panic attack. 

"Charlie, could you double-check the order for me?" Benny asks. Dean sighs, silently thanking the universe Benny saved him intentionally or not. He's going to be giving this man a huge tip. Charlie leaves, mumbling about being a queen, and Dean relaxes again when he can hear her in the back room moving things around. 

He had let his beard grow for the last few months. Partly out of hate for shaving but mostly because he wanted to hide his face. He stares at himself in the mirror as Benny finishes styling his haircut. He looks human, and he feels tears pricking in his eyes. He looks like himself again, and damn he shouldn't be this emotional over a haircut and a shave.

He quickly remembers that he's in a barber shop and clears his throat. If Benny or Charlie notices his minor emotional breakdown, they don't say anything, and he's thankful.

"We'll see ya in a few weeks, Dean," Benny says as Dean slips Benny his tip and payment in a handshake.

"Thanks," He says. Dean smiles and turns to leave. He sees Cas standing awkwardly outside the door. Dean offers a small smile, but Cas doesn't return it. Instead, he just stares for a moment and then turns and walks away. Dean opens the door to follow him but decides against it. He looks back at Benny, who shrugs at him. 

Chapter Text

Tuesday comes, and Dean doesn’t see Cas in his usual spot. A pang of guilt hits him. He should have gone after him Sunday, talked to him, made sure he was okay. Dean backs out of the alleyway and heads back to the yard, a low gnawing in his chest. He realizes he might miss the guy, and the thought sticks all week, heavy and uncomfortable.

Late the following Monday, Dean wakes to the sound of his phone ringing—not his alarm, his phone. Groggy, he squints at the screen. A female voice, unfamiliar, muffled in the haze of his sleep. He only catches a few words before panic sets in. He’s running through his apartment, grabbing his keys, hoping Cas is okay, hoping he’s not too late.

The drive to the hospital is a blur of stoplights and speed bumps. Dean prays he doesn’t get pulled over. His stomach is a knot, his chest tight. Cas is in trouble. And somehow, Dean’s the emergency contact. He barely understands how, but he doesn’t have time to question it.

Dean skids into a half-empty parking space and sprints inside. The sterile smell of the hospital hits him like a wall—too clean, too sharp, everything too bright. People glance up, and he feels every eye in the room, but he doesn’t care. He’s moving. Searching.

“I’m here for Castiel,” he pants.

“Last name?” the nurse asks, detached. Dean freezes. Of course. He doesn’t know Cas’s last name. His stomach twists tighter.

She types silently, and Dean’s feet carry him before his brain catches up. Finally, the room number appears in his head, and he barrels inside.

Cas is sitting in a hospital bed, cuts and bruises marking his face, an arm in a sling. The IV wires glint under the fluorescent lights. Dean exhales the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He’s alive.

“Dean?” Cas’s voice is quiet, wary, surprised.

“The hospital called me. You’re here. Cas… what the hell happened?” Dean slides into the chair next to the bed, eyes scanning Cas for injuries he can’t fix, hands itching to do something.

Cas looks down. Shame and fear flare across his face, but he won’t meet Dean’s eyes. Dean reaches out, lifting a hand to his shoulder. Cas covers it with his own. The touch is grounding, steadying. Dean’s chest is tight, but it loosens just a fraction.

“I didn’t know who else to call,” Cas murmurs. “Your number… it was on one of the tags on my backpack. They said it was unsafe to return to the camp for a few days. I… I needed somewhere else to go.”

Dean’s chest swells with a mix of relief and guilt. He had missed him all week—missed him and didn’t even realize it until now.

“Cas… I’m glad you called,” he says softly, his voice rough. And it’s true. Part of him had been starving for contact, for someone to be there. Cas’s eyes flicker up at him, hesitant, small, but they meet his for a moment.

“I should have tried Benny first. I— I’m so sorry.”

Dean notices the little signs—sniffles, the tilt of his shoulders, the quiet tension in his body. He squeezes Cas’s shoulder gently. “What good are friends if you can’t be there when they need you?” The words are heavier than he expects, closer to a confession than casual speech.

His heart hammers in his chest, his breathing shallow. He looks down at Cas’s hand over his and focuses there, willing himself to calm.

Deep breath in. Let it out.
Deep breath in. Let it out.

Minutes pass. Dean’s heartbeat slows. He maintains a firm grip, and Cas is staring at him, small smile forming.

“Better?” Cas asks quietly.

“Yeah,” Dean says, voice low, admitting it to himself as much as to Cas. “I’m… sorry, Cas.”

“Don’t apologize,” Cas replies, voice soft. “We’re a mess.”

Dean nods, letting himself exhale. He helps Cas gather his things. Cas will stay with him for a week. Dean doesn’t mention the tingling left in his hand where Cas had held him. That’s just for him. Cas can stay as long as he needs.

Chapter Text

The first day is awkward. Mostly, Castiel stays on the couch and sleeps. He doesn’t speak much. Still, Dean sits with him, keeping him fed and hydrated, watching over him like a sentinel. He can feel the tension in the air, a fragile line of trust neither wants to cross yet.

After accidentally dozing off while watching a nature show on bees late in the afternoon, Dean wakes to Cas groaning in pain.

“Cas?”

“I’m fine. I just need to get to the bathroom.”

Dean rises and moves closer, offering his hand. Cas stares at it, hesitant.

“Come on, man. You gotta go if you gotta go.”

“I think I can do this myself,” Cas mutters, wincing as he shifts his weight.

“Let me help you.”

“I don’t want your help!” Cas snaps, his voice tight with frustration. He forces himself to stand, and Dean steps back, letting him hobble forward. Every careful step makes Dean flinch, wishing he could make the pain vanish. He doesn’t push; he won’t break Cas’s walls.

Day two is almost identical. Cas doesn’t speak much, but he’s calmer. Dean makes him his famous 'Dean Winchester BBQ Burger,' and he swells with pride when Cas bounces in his chair at the first bite.

“Good, huh?”

“Dean, where did you learn to cook like this?” Cas asks, his face smeared with barbecue sauce and mustard. Dean laughs, passing him a napkin.

“I picked up some cooking skills for Sam.”

“Sam? Your sibling?” Cas bites into another massive piece, ignoring the napkin. Dean hesitates, thinking about how much to reveal.

“Yeah. He’s just finished Stanford. Interning at a law firm in California. Studying for the bar.”

“Really? That’s amazing. My oldest brother went to Stanford too… he’s a civil rights lawyer. Funny, I—” Cas stops and looks down at his burger, faltering.

“I-he… I’m sorry. I just got fatigued,” Cas admits softly, and Dean senses he was about to share something heavier.

“It’s fine.” Dean tucks the thought away. “Do you need anything before I start cleaning up?”

“No, thank you. I think I’m going to lie down.” Cas moves to the couch, wincing twice in pain. Half a burger remains on his plate.

On day three, Dean wakes early to make breakfast, but Cas isn’t on the couch. The bedding is folded neatly, shoes and backpack gone.

“Damn it, Cas,” Dean mutters. Panic twists his stomach. Cas can’t return to the camp—not after what happened. He grabs his coat and shoes, ready to hunt the streets if he must.

Before he can reach the door, Cas steps inside, carrying a white bag and two coffees.

“Dean?” Cas looks worried, confused. “Do you have to go back to work?”

“No, I was—Uh—” Dean stammers. Should he confess he was about to chase him down? He swallows the thought.

“I thought you left,” Dean admits, voice tight.

“Oh.” Cas sets the bag and drinks down, concern etched across his face.

“I know you said you don’t want help, and I know this is weird,” Dean gestures between them. “I’ve been alone for a long time, and I just… I want to help. I feel like I’m intruding, and I don’t want that.”

Cas says nothing. He sits carefully on the couch and opens the bag, pulling out two large muffins. One for himself, one for the empty space next to him.

“Are you going to sit down?” Cas asks, soft. Dean shrugs off his jacket, settling beside him. Cas hands him one of the drinks, picking at his muffin with meticulous care.

“You aren’t invading. You’re… a good friend, Dean. And I called you, remember?”

So they are friends. Good. That’s comforting.

“I want to tell you what happened… how I ended up in the hospital. But Dean, I don’t want you to do anything about it,” Cas says, and Dean nods slowly. He can feel the gravity in Cas’s voice. “I need a verbal promise, Dean.”

“Cas—”

“Promise me.” The desperation in his voice makes Dean’s chest tighten.

“I promise.” Dean lies.

Cas exhales shakily. “I had my interview on Monday. I asked the owner if I could come in after hours, and he agreed.” He swallows. “I was leaving, and I heard these men talking a few doors down… there’s a bar called Gordon’s. I tried to avoid them, but they saw me. One asked me for the time. I didn’t have a watch, so I ignored him and ran toward the park. I’m not weak, Dean, but there were three of them.”

Dean sits frozen, absorbing every word. His hands clench, jaw tight. Images of Cas, bruised and in pain, play in his mind. Rage bubbles but he holds it down; he promised.

“Dean?” Cas’s voice cuts through, fragile, uncertain.

“Give me a minute.” Dean retreats to the bathroom, shuts the door, and splashes his face with ice-cold water. The sting sharpens his focus. He stares into the mirror, seeing his own reflection—tense, angry, helpless.

You promised, Dean. Do nothing.

He exhales, letting the water wash over him, grounding himself. He can feel Cas’s vulnerability, the trust placed in him, and the weight of it presses on his chest. But he keeps the promise.

Chapter Text

The fourth day is tense. Dean knows he promised Cas he wouldn't interfere, but he also knows he won't be able to keep his word. He's already called Charlie and plans to meet up with her for dinner. It will be easy to accidentally walk by and scope out the shit show that is Gordon's.

"Cas, I'm going out for dinner. Do you want me to bring you anything back?" Cas eyes him suspiciously and shakes his head. Dean doesn't let his gaze linger too long. "I should be back around eleven."

"Where are you going?"

"The Roadhouse? Charlie invited me. I haven't been yet." Of course, he's lying about being invited, but she did suggest the place. Cas doesn't need to know that Dean wants to scope out Gordon's.

"And you'll be back at eleven?"

Dean looks up at the question. Cas has brought his knees up to his chin and wrapped his arms around them. He looks scared, and Dean knows he can't be comfortable sitting with bruised ribs like that.

"Or before. Want me to stay?" Cas doesn't answer immediately, but Dean can see the emotions flash across the other man's face—considering his answer.

"No," he finally says. The answer seems forced, strange. It doesn't sound like he means it at all. Instead, it makes him feel like Cas can see right through him and knows what Dean is up to—but wants him to make the right choice.

"If you want me to stay, I will. We can get a pizza or Mexican from the new place off Front Street. I'm sure Charlie won't mind rescheduling."

"No, you should go. I'm not much fun right now anyway," Cas says and stands slowly. Dean watches as Cas walks to the bathroom and closes the door. He stands at the front door for a moment, listening for the shower to start.

Dean leaves.

Dean forgets Halloween is coming. A woman dressed as corn keeps giving him sex eyes. He smiles once and tries to avoid her gaze. Finally, Charlie shows up a little before eight, dressed in a cape and a gold crown. Dean tries not to laugh—really—but can't stop himself. He freezes when she looks at him like she might stab him and leave him for dead.

"I told you I LARP, Dean. I happen to be a big deal." She takes off the cape but leaves the crown on. "I'm the queen, actually." He doesn’t know why, but he likes it. The crown perched on her head makes him inexplicably happy.

They order food and make small talk, but Dean can't stop thinking about Cas and how uncomfortable he looked before Dean left. Sitting here listening to Charlie talk is nearly impossible when he wants to check on Gordon’s.

"Dean? Are you alright?" she asks, her eyes searching.

"I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

"Dude, you were totally zoned out. I literally said I eat fat pig balls every night, and you didn’t even flinch. So, what’s going on?"

Charlie and Cas had some kind of past together. What if it wasn't good? Cas hadn't said anything when Dean mentioned her name. He could tell her a few details, but it wasn’t his place to talk about Cas. Still, Charlie seems trustworthy.

"Uh… Cas-tiel. He's been… staying at my place." Charlie’s eyes go wide, but she waits for him to continue.

"He was attacked when he was walking back to the camp. There’s more to the story, but he doesn’t want to talk about it, and I don’t want to push."

"Did he say where it happened?" Her voice is calm but sharp. Dean leans back slightly—she already knows.

"He said something about passing Gordon's," he replies. A strange look flashes across her face. She rushes out the door, cape around her shoulders. Dean realizes she knows exactly who hurt Cas. He drops fifty on the table and runs after her.

"Charlie!" He calls. Left. Right. Nothing. He jogs slowly toward Gordon's, scanning for her. Before he can even reach the door, it bursts open. Charlie crumples to the ground at his feet.

"You asshole! I told you to stay away from him!" she yells, scrambling to her feet and lunging toward an older man, smacking him. His hand comes up to his face, wiping it, checking for blood. None. His gaze locks on Dean, deadly.

"You shouldn't have done that." His snake-like voice makes Dean want to throw up. He knows it. He knows it.

"Charlie?" Dean steps forward.

The man’s gaze leaves her and lands on Dean.

"Winchester," he hisses.

Dean gasps. His head swims. His vision narrows. Fear turns to white-hot anger.

Charlie looks at him, confused but alert.

"You're the one? You sent him to the hospital, you piece of shit?" Dean spits.

"Dean? You know him?" Charlie asks, wary.

"Castiel and I had a deal. He backed out. He got what he deserved," the man says.

Charlie turns between the two men. Dean feels like he's about to snap.

"What? You wanted him to make a delivery for you? Cause people like us are expendable? We're nothing to you?" Dean steps closer, fists clenched.

Charlie grabs his arm, trying to pull him back, but he breaks free.

"It's easy to make people do what I want. Your little friend didn’t have any problems until you got involved. You nearly got him killed. Remember that?"

Dean stops. The words sink in. He steps back, grabs Charlie to steady her, roughly, because he can’t lose another friend. "Tell Cas I'll see him soon."

He turns, starts walking to his car. Legs shaking. Heart hammering. Thoughts racing.

Every memory of Cas—the bruises, the hospital, the panic in his eyes—flashes in his mind. He gets to the Impala, collapses into the seat, and the world tilts.

Hands clutching the steering wheel. Breathing shallow. Chest tight.

Dean’s vision tunnels. Cold sweat beads on his forehead.

"Deep breaths," he mutters.

But the panic won’t let him. Tremors run through his arms. The car feels small, confining, suffocating. He buries his face in his hands.

Everything is too much. Too loud. Too real.

Dean Winchester is having a full-blown panic attack.

Chapter Text

Dean groans as his eyes slowly open. Charlie is leaning over him, hands gently cradling his face. He focuses on her knowing eyes and takes a few deep breaths.

“You're okay,” she says softly. He nods and tries to sit up. Everything hurts, and his throat is so dry it sends him into a coughing fit. Her hands leave his face, and she digs around next to him for a moment before handing him a water bottle. He takes a few sips and looks around. It’s still dark out, and he’s still in the car. Charlie is on her knees next to him in the middle seat, leaning into his space.

“I-I think you had a panic attack. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken off like that,” she says and leans back onto her heels. Her crown is crooked on her head, and he reaches up to fix it. She smiles at him. He drinks the rest of the water before settling into a more comfortable position.

“How did you know?” Dean asks. He’s scared to know the answer. He doesn’t want to hear it from her—he’d rather hear it from Cas. He also wants Cas to tell him how he could have ended up mixed up with someone so awful and why he didn’t go to the police.

“Cas and I used to be pretty close. It’s hard not to want to be friends with someone so caring. When he first got here, he had nothing. So I took him in for a while. He was working at Gordon’s part-time. Alistair started coming in, and they had a weird friendship, more like cat and mouse. He’s creepy, and Cas, you know Cas, he’s kind. He wants to give everyone a chance,” she says, giving Dean a small smile.

“Anyway, this other guy starts showing up. I don’t know much about him, but I saw him and Cas arguing about something. It seemed really intense. One day Alistair doesn’t come in. Of course, Cas looks for the guy, thinking he’s in trouble. There wasn’t much camp then, but Castiel found Alistair trying to recruit some kids to deliver something for him. Cas said he’d do it instead. It was the only time I knew of, but Alistair never stopped asking. He disappeared over a year ago. This was the first time I’ve seen him since.”

“So if he had a place with you and a job, why does he stay at the camp?”

Charlie lets out a little laugh and sits on the seat. “Cas and I had a falling out, and I didn’t feel safe with him anymore. But I also didn’t know then what I know now. After our fight, I moved into Benny’s basement, and Cas got fired and took off to the camp. He’s been there ever since. He takes care of those people to keep Alistair away from them.”

Everything about Cas’s behavior before Dean had left makes sense. He’s scared of Alistair. Dean turns his head and looks at Charlie. Last year, he’d just moved here. Was Alistair following him? Did he know where Dean lived?

“Charlie, we have to go now.” Dean fumbles for his keys. Charlie doesn’t ask; she just clicks her seatbelt into place. Dean drives more recklessly than usual. If they knew where he lived, Cas could be in danger. He’ll never forgive himself if Cas isn’t on the couch when he gets home. He will never forgive himself.

The car is barely parked before he’s out the door, running up the stairs. The front door is still locked, and Charlie follows close behind. Dean finally unlocks it and bursts inside. The living room is empty. Cas isn’t on the couch. His heart leaps into his throat, and tears form in his eyes. He scans the apartment and sees Cas’s shoes by the door and his bag hanging off a kitchen chair.

Dean rushes down the hall to the bedroom. The door creaks as he pushes it open. Cas is lying in Dean’s bed, arms wrapped around one of Dean’s pillows, mouth hanging open as he snores. Dean has never been so happy to see someone before. Cas, who had been sleeping on the couch, is now in Dean’s personal space—safe, trusting, and finally letting go.

Charlie kneels on the floor beside the bed, wrapping her arms around Cas. He looks at Dean, confused, but holds onto her as she cries into his shirt.

“I tried. I tried to tell him to leave you alone. I’m sorry,” she says. Cas doesn’t respond, only lets her cry.

Dean steps back and collapses onto the couch, tension spilling out with every ragged breath. His body finally gives in. He can talk with Cas later about leaving, but right now… he just needs to rest, just to feel that Cas is safe.

Chapter Text

Dean wakes up first. His mind isn’t all together, and his head pounds. His back protests when he stands. He walks toward his bedroom and sees Cas and Charlie wrapped around each other. Both are safe and sleeping soundly. Dean just stands there, staring. He has to let it sink in—they’re okay, nothing happened while he slept. He can’t even call it “sleep.”

He lingers a moment, then heads to the bathroom to shower. Maybe the water will clear his head. His thoughts drift back to last night, and his stomach sinks. What if Alistair knows where he lives? What if he had followed him and now knows where Cas is?

Dean stops at the back window and scans the parking lot. No new cars, no suspicious figures. His stomach grumbles, and he skips the shower, heading for the coffee. Charlie enters quietly and sits at the table.

“Did I wake you?” Dean asks. Her hair is wild, and she looks tired—sad, even. He sets a cup of coffee in front of her and smiles. She doesn’t respond at first, just stares at it.

“How did you know that was Alistair?” she asks. Dean doesn’t want to talk about his past.

“You aren’t going to like it,” he says softly. She finally meets his eyes. Tears are already brimming. Dean’s chest tightens; he’s never handled someone crying well.

“I used to work for him. Years ago. I think he followed me,” Dean admits. She stares at him, trying to find words, but can’t. He reaches for her hand, but she pulls it away, retreats to the bedroom, and closes the door.

By the time Cas and Charlie come out, Dean has pancakes ready. Charlie picks at the grapes while Dean pours coffee for Cas. They eat quietly. Dean watches Cas, searching for any hint of how he’s processing the morning.

Finally, Cas clears his throat. “Dean, I think I should stay for a little longer.”

Dean glances at him, then at Charlie, who gives a small nod. “I think that’s a great idea. Alistair is a dick and usually gets what he wants.”

Cas freezes, fork mid-air. “What did you say?”

Dean frowns. “Did I say something wrong?” He assumes Charlie has already told Cas about last night. Maybe she hasn’t.

“I never mentioned his name,” Cas says, setting his fork down. “How did you know?”

Dean looks at Charlie. She avoids his eyes. Cas scoots back, his expression hard to read.

“You told him?” Cas directs the question at her. He doesn’t sound angry—he sounds wary, tense.

“I didn’t tell him his name. You already knew,” she says.

Cas stands so fast his chair topples. He backs away, face tight. Dean’s chest contracts. He can’t read him—just sees the hurt, the anger. It burns, and Dean panics.

“I used to work for him,” Dean blurts, hoping it explains something. Cas doesn’t respond. Charlie drops her hands. Dean can feel the weight of Cas’s gaze. He looks away.

Cas storms down the hall. The bathroom door slams. Dean hears cabinets, a zipper, and then silence. He realizes Cas is gathering his things. His heart twists.

“Are you leaving?” Dean asks, voice shaking.

“I have to.”

“No, you can’t. It’s not safe.” Dean’s panic builds. Cas has nowhere else to go. Alistair could find him.

“Don’t ask me to stay.”

Dean steps forward. “Cas, this isn’t your fault.”

“How do you know? You don’t even know me!” Cas’s tone cuts deep. Dean wants to reach out, to grab his hand, to calm him. He can’t read the other man at all.

“I know because it’s my fault!” Dean shouts.

“How could it be you—?”

“Alistair is here for me. I moved here a year ago to escape him, and I think he followed me.”

Cas steps away. Charlie reaches for him, but he pulls back.

“Did you know about this?” Cas asks, eyes sharp, voice trembling.

“No. I swear I didn’t.”

Dean watches them, the fear and anger radiating off Cas like fire. He doesn’t understand it—not the full truth, not the terror, not the old memories being dredged up. All he knows is he’s losing him. He grabs his jacket and boots and flees, leaving them behind.

He drives blindly, tears blinding him, the car fishtailing slightly on the road. He’s doing it to protect them, to keep them safe, but his chest aches. His heart is breaking. He loves Cas, more than he’s allowed himself to admit, and now he might have destroyed the fragile trust he’d worked so hard to earn.

Chapter Text

Dean’s 19 and needs money, and he has a phone number burning a hole in his pocket. He knows that calling it will change his life forever.

He takes a swig of warm beer and stares at the number. He looks around the small house and sighs. He has to call. He has to get Sam off to school, and he has to get away from his dad. He’s not smart like Sam. Not going to get a scholarship. He’s going to have to work his way out. He pulls out his phone and dials.

“Yes?” The voice on the other end is strange, odd enough to make Dean’s stomach twist. He ignores it.

“Hi. Uhh, this is Dean. I got your number from a friend. I’m looking for work.”

"Ah, yes. Dean Winchester. I’ve been waiting for your call. I’ve been told you’re quite the little charmer. When can you meet?”

“I have some time today. What exactly will I be doing?”

“Deliveries.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.” The voice laughs. “I’ll meet you in forty-five minutes at the diner on 32nd.”

The line clicks. Dean feels that sinking feeling again, but Chuck had said this guy was legit. He kicks himself for not asking what he was delivering—or even for a name. Sam will be home any minute. Dean throws on his shoes and jacket and leaves a note for his brother.

The drive takes a little longer than usual, but he makes it with a few minutes to spare. He doesn’t know who he’s looking for, so he takes a booth in the back and orders pie and coffee. The waitress is cute, and he winks at her a few times. Maybe he can get the meal free.

Thirty minutes pass. Only one couple has come in since he arrived. He glances at his phone. The waitress brings a small white box and sets it down.

“Dean, right? Someone left this for you.”

“Yeah, but how did you know?”

“He said you’d be cute,” she says, then walks away.

Dean opens the box. Inside is a watch—nicer than anything he’s ever seen. He picks it up. It feels heavy on his wrist, almost like it’s weighing him down. He wonders if it’s too nice, if wearing it will get him in trouble. He sets it back down, then lifts it again. It fits perfectly.

He pays for his food. The waitress waves him off: it’s been taken care of.

Over the next few days, Dean gets vague, strange texts from several numbers. The first is a date, time, and location. The second is a date and place with no time. He’s still figuring them out when the phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Winchester. You have your first assignment?”

“I think so. There isn’t much information.”

“What information do you need?”

“I don’t know. What am I delivering? What to wear? Resume?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No recommendations. Wear whatever you like, but don’t be late. Deliver baked goods to businesses around the city. All communication will be sent via your cell phone. Keep it on you at all times.”

Dean hesitates. No interview. Who hires someone like this? Maybe Chuck had set it up.

“Do you have the watch?”

“Yes, sir.” Dean glances at the box. The weight on his wrist is heavier than it should be. He feels like it could get him in trouble somehow—he’s poor, can’t afford to mess up.

“Wear it while making deliveries.”

“Why?” He shouldn’t question it, but the words escape anyway.

“To keep the time. Why else?”

“Good point.”

“We’ll be meeting soon. I mean it—about the watch. Wear it while you make deliveries.”

“Okay.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Winchester.”

Dean hangs up and stares at the watch. Even for a short time, it feels like a burden. Uneasy. Wrong. Still, two hundred bucks a delivery? Too good to pass up. Just a few months. Just to get Sam out of here. Just to get away from his dad—drunk, verbally abusive, never missing a chance to put them down.

If you want, I can also smooth the texts and phone call sequence even more so it flows faster and keeps the tension, while keeping Dean’s physical unease and the danger feeling immediate. Do you want me to do that next?

You said:
yes and add it into the whole chapter.
ChatGPT said:

Perfect! Here’s your full chapter, tightened, with the watch feeling heavy and dangerous, Dean’s dad verbally abusive, and the texts/phone calls flowing more smoothly:

Dean’s 19 and needs money, and he has a phone number burning a hole in his pocket. He knows that calling it will change his life forever.

He takes a swig of warm beer and stares at the number. He looks around the small house and sighs. He has to call. He has to get Sam off to school, and he has to get away from his dad. He’s not smart like Sam—not going to get a scholarship. He’s going to have to work his way out. He pulls out his phone and dials.

“Yes?” The voice on the other end is strange, odd enough to make Dean’s stomach twist. He ignores it.

“Hi. Uhh, this is Dean. I got your number from a friend. I’m looking for work.”

"Ah, yes. Dean Winchester. I’ve been waiting for your call. I’ve been told you’re quite the little charmer. When can you meet?”

“I have some time today. What exactly will I be doing?”

“Deliveries.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.” The voice laughs. “I’ll meet you in forty-five minutes at the diner on 32nd.”

The line clicks. Dean feels that sinking feeling again, but Chuck had said this guy was legit. He kicks himself for not asking what he was delivering—or even for a name. Sam will be home any minute. Dean throws on his shoes and jacket and leaves a note for his brother.

The drive takes a little longer than usual, but he makes it with a few minutes to spare. He doesn’t know who he’s looking for, so he takes a booth in the back and orders pie and coffee. The waitress is cute, and he winks at her a few times. Maybe he can get the meal free.

Thirty minutes pass. Only one couple has come in since he arrived. He glances at his phone. The waitress brings a small white box and sets it down.

“Dean, right? Someone left this for you.”

“Yeah, but how did you know?”

“He said you’d be cute,” she says, then walks away.

Dean opens the box. Inside is a watch—nicer than anything he’s ever seen. He picks it up. It feels heavy on his wrist, like it’s weighing him down, almost accusing him. He feels like wearing it could get him in trouble somehow—he’s poor, can’t afford mistakes. He sets it back down, then lifts it again. It fits perfectly.

He pays for his food. The waitress waves him off: it’s been taken care of.

Over the next few days, Dean gets vague, strange texts from several numbers. The first is a date, time, and location. The second is a date and place with no time. He’s still piecing them together when the phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Winchester. You have your first assignment?”

“I think so. There isn’t much information.”

“What information do you need?”

“I don’t know. What am I delivering? What to wear? Resume?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No recommendations. Wear whatever you like, but don’t be late. Deliver baked goods to businesses around the city. All communication will be via your cell phone. Keep it on you at all times.”

Dean hesitates. No interview. Who hires someone like this? Maybe Chuck had set it up.

“Do you have the watch?”

“Yes, sir.” Dean glances at the box. The weight on his wrist presses into him, almost like it’s reminding him he’s taking a risk. Poor, desperate—he shouldn’t even be here.

“Wear it while making deliveries.”

“Why?” He shouldn’t question it, but the words escape anyway.

“To keep the time. Why else?”

“Good point.”

“We’ll be meeting soon. I mean it—about the watch. Wear it while you make deliveries.”

“Okay.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Winchester.”

Dean hangs up and stares at the watch. Even for a short time, it feels like a burden. Uneasy. Wrong. Still, two hundred bucks a delivery? Too good to pass up. Just a few months. Just to get Sam out of here. Just to get away from his dad—drunk, verbally abusive, never missing a chance to put them down.

He slips on his jacket, tugs the watch over his sleeve, and heads out the door. Each step feels heavier than the last. The world seems sharper, edges more dangerous. And maybe it is—Dean Winchester is about to enter a life he can’t escape from.

Chapter Text

Dean’s first delivery was to be picked up at noon and dropped off the same day at any time. He drives to a large building for the pick-up and punches in the code texted to him a few hours ago. The gate opens, and he goes in slowly, taking in the sight of the building. It’s incredibly tall. The sign outside says Roman Enterprises. He’s never heard of this company before, but it looks fancy.

He pulls into a parking spot, checks his hair and teeth before getting out, and makes his way to the front doors. A guard reads a book at the desk with his back to Dean. He doesn’t know what to do or say, so he just walks up and clears his throat. The man turns around and greets Dean with a huge smile. His name tag says Marv.

“Mr. Winchester?” The man says and reaches out a hand, setting his book down. This isn’t the man that he’s been talking to. This man's voice is cheerful and bright. Too bright.

“Yeah, I’m here to pick up my delivery.”

“Of course. Follow me. I have a few forms for you to sign. After that, I’ll get you the boxes you’ll need.”

Dean follows the man through a series of doors while he talks about the company and what they do. They provide food products like flour and sugar to local bakeries and grocery stores. Dean is relieved that he’s not doing something illegal. In fact, he’s so pleased that every fear or reservation about the job disappears. This was a job that he could be proud of. This was an honest job that didn’t involve questionable deeds.

“Alright, your paperwork is here,” the man points to a desk. "Fill them out and bring them to me when you’re done, and I’ll get you set up. Do you have your watch?”

“Yeah,” Dean pulls back his sleeve to reveal the shining watch on his wrist. The man smiles, then turns to leave.

Dean sits at the table and fills out the paperwork. It’s all basic stuff like his name and age and how many deliveries he’d like to make a week. It doesn’t even ask for his address or work history. It takes him a few moments to fill it out before he walks back to the front desk. Another man is standing there with the guard.

“Mr. Winchester. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Dr. Avla.”

The man doesn’t even turn toward Dean or put out a hand. Dean quickly realizes why the man’s voice is unsettling. He sounds like a snake or something. His words containing an ‘s’ sound drag out almost comically. His voice is nasally and strange, making the hairs on Dean’s neck stand up.

“Nice to meet you too,” Dean says and sets the papers down in front of Marv, who takes them and sets them in a folder next to him. Marv stands and motions for Dean to follow him. Dr. Alva doesn’t say anything else.

_________

The first delivery is to a bakery. Dean walks in, drops off the flour and sugar boxes, and then leaves. That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less. He almost feels bad that he will make so much money for doing next to nothing. As soon as he’s back home, he takes off the watch and puts it in the box on his dresser. He ensures it’s closed so his dad doesn’t see it and tries to sell it.

__________

Dean’s second delivery is to a grocery store. He drops off the boxes at precisely 9 AM and leaves. He takes a long way home. It should only take him about three weeks of work to send Sam off with a good chunk of money and then a few more weeks to get himself a place away from their dad.

__________

The third delivery doesn’t go as smoothly. Dean has to pick up the delivery at six, and it has to be dropped off by seven. Unfortunately, Sam has to be at school at seven. He puts on his watch and knocks on Sam’s door to get him up and moving. If Sam was ready to go by six-forty-five, Dean would have just enough time to drop off Sam and the delivery on time.

“Hey, Sam,” Dean says quietly. There’s no movement in the room, so Dean walks over to his brother's bed and turns on the lamp. His brother's sleeping form is illuminated in the dim light. There is a book on his chest and papers all over the bed. He must have fallen asleep studying.

“Sammy?” Dean says and gives his brother a little shake. Sam sits up, and the papers and book fly in different directions.

“Am I late?” He asks, bug-eyed.

“No.” Dean laughs. “I have to work early, so be ready by six-forty-five. I’ll be here exactly then.”

Sam doesn’t say anything. He just stares at the papers on his floor and bed.

“Sammy?”

“Six-forty-five.”

Dean ruffles his brother's hair and takes off. He picks up at six. On his way home, he sends Sam a text, but he doesn’t respond. Dean tries calling. 

No answer.

“Shit.”

Dean presses the gas. It’s six-thirty. Even if Sam wasn’t awake, he might still make it on time. The bakery he’s delivering to today is only a couple minutes from Sam’s school. Dean parks in his parking spot and rushes into the house. He can hear the shower running as he enters. Rushing to the bathroom door, he starts yelling.

“Sammy! Come on! I told you six-forty-five! You have five minutes, or you’re walking. I’m not joking!”

“Sorry! I fell back asleep. I’ll be out in a second.”

Dean pours himself some coffee and waits. He takes a look at his watch. Six-thirty-four. He takes it off briefly to look at the back, running his finger over the letters. It’s weird to think that it was just given to him. Sam comes rushing out of the bedroom, hair soaking his shirt. His shoes and clothes are thrown on, and he’s clutching his backpack like a madman.

“I’ll give you money for lunch. Let’s go.”

Dean makes it to the school faster than ever. 

He looks down at his watch.

 It’s not there.

“Fuck!” he mutters, realizing that he had left it on the kitchen table. If his dad sees it, he will never see the damn thing again. So, he makes a decision. He speeds all the way home to grab the watch. He puts it in his pocket and rushes to the bakery. He carries the three boxes to the door in one trip and sets them down on the counter. He’s seven minutes late. The guy behind the counter looks pissed.

“I am so sorry. My brother was running late. I had to get him to school.”

“You should make sure you’re more punctual next time.” The man says and takes the boxes without another word. Dean leaves, heading home. It’s not like he had left it on purpose. Everything would have been fine if he had just left the stupid thing on. He’s almost home when his phone rings. It’s Alastair. He doesn’t even get the chance to say hello.

“Come to my office,” the man says before hanging up.

Dean knows he’s getting fired. He hasn’t even gotten his first paycheck yet, and he’s already fired. Maybe they’ll give him the money he has already worked for. But he doesn’t count on it as he makes his way to Roman Enterprises.

He walks by Marv, but the man is less friendly this time. He leads him to Alistair's office and leaves. Dean sits in the chair and waits for the man to arrive. He looks around the space. It’s pretty bare. There isn’t much on the walls, but many rows of binders are on the bookshelves behind the desk. Next to that is a window that overlooks the woods behind the building. Dean doesn’t even hear when Alistair comes in.

“I told you not to be late,” He says. He doesn’t sound mad, but he doesn’t sound happy, either.

“I’m sorry, sir. My brother was running late, and then I forgot the watch. So, I went back to get it.” Dean explains. The man looks wry, making Dean feel like he’s being watched under a magnifying glass.

“I don’t care for excuses,” He says.

“It won’t happen again.”

“You’re right. It won’t-”

“Please don’t fire me!” Dean blurts. He needs this job. Dean can’t go back to what he was doing before. He needs this job badly and can’t pass up the money. He’ll do better.

“Fire you?” the man laughs. It's not a friendly laugh. It's mocking. 

“I-I thought you were going to fire me.”

“For being late one time? I hardly care about  one  honest mistake.” The man opens the drawer next to him and pulls out a file. Dean’s name is written on the tab. He opens it and looks over the papers. “It says here you’re willing to work every day?”

“Yes, sir. My brother got into an early acceptance program at Stanford.”

“He must be a smart kid.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I have a special job for you. We like to keep things running smoothly here. When things don’t run smoothly, we must eliminate the problem. Think you can handle it?”

“Yes.”

“Meet Crowley here at seven. You can pick up your payment on Friday.”

Dean nods at the man.

“Dean?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Stop with the 'yessir' bullshit.”

Dean stands quickly and rushes out the door. He’s not sure, but Marv has a smug look on his face when he passes by. On the drive home, Dean decides he isn’t taking the watch off unless he’s showering. He can’t have a repeat of today.

Chapter Text

Crowley is interesting. He’s charming, but something about him is downright terrifying. Dean meets with him at seven, and they take a short drive to one of the local shops in town. It’s a small cake shop that opened a year ago. Dean remembers because there was no pie. 

They pull up to the back of the building, and two men are standing outside waiting. Dean doesn’t like the way anything looks. Something is going to happen, and he knows it. He shouldn’t have taken this job. Crowley opens his door and greets one of the men. He completely ignores the other, and Dean doesn’t miss how the man scowls at Crowley.

 
“Coming, squirrel?” Crowley asks. Dean slides across the car's back seat and stands in front of Crowley. The men standing outside the door are standing like they are standing guard. “Now the fun begins,” he says and steps into the building. 

They walk through the back area of the shop. The walls are lined with boxes of cake toppers, sugar, flour, and other baking items. There is music coming from the area that Dean assumes is the kitchen. Crowley just walks right in and turns off the radio. A man a little younger than Dean turns around and looks at Crowley. The sheer fear on the man’s face makes Dean want to turn around and run.

“Garth, nice to see you. Is your boss here?” Crowley asks.

‘N-N-No. He went to get something to eat.” The man stays still, and Dean can’t help but take a step away from Crowley. The other man's entire demeanor has changed. He’s undoubtedly not charming anymore. He looks lethal. Demonic even. 

“Shame. He hasn’t paid for his products in quite some time. It would be quite a disaster if something happened to his precious cupcakes.” Crowley says. Dean watches as Crowley walks over to the back of the display, takes a red velvet cupcake out, and takes a bite.

“I’ll tell him you stopped by,” Garth says. The guy is like a hundred pounds and visibly shaking in fear.

“Tell him I’ll be back in a few days to collect.” Crowley makes a face at the cupcake and then drops it on the floor, “You should get someone to clean that up.”

Dean watches as the man slowly and carefully walks over and bends down in front of Crowley to pick up the discarded pastry. It all happens so fast, but Garth is on the floor holding his face. Blood is dripping from behind his hands, and he groans in pain. Crowley steps over the man and walks out the door, leaving Dean to stare at the man on the floor. His nose is broken, for sure. He looks up at Dean. It’s almost like he’s pleading for Dean to help him, but he can’t move. 

“Dean!” Dean jumps at the sound of his name. He whispers an apology to the man on the floor and rushes back to the car. Something tells him this job will last longer than he initially thought. This couldn’t have been what Chuck wanted him to do. He gets back in the car with Crowley and realizes this was less about Garth’s boss and more of a warning to him to do better. It was a threat of what would happen to him if he were ever late again.

Chapter Text

Dean still makes deliveries, but fewer than he used to. He’s sent out with Crowley a lot. They meet up with all kinds of people, and most meetings end with some type of violence. Dean can feel himself changing. He’s not the same as when he first started the job. He’s almost excited when he knows he’ll go out with Crowley. It takes him seven months to realize that he’s being trained to take Crowley’s job. He will be Alister’s new attack dog, and he can’t deny the excitement it brings him to know that people will fear him.

Sam left for his program with a fat wallet and an even fatter savings account. Dean never tells him that he had nearly a quarter million dollars saved for Sam and himself. Dean had simply told him not to worry about anything and that he would give him money as needed. Dean watched Sam’s spending and sent him a couple hundred a week. Sam still got a part-time job and saved most of what Dean sent him. The most significant purchases he made were books and computer programs.

He bought his dad’s car from him and fixed it up. It was beautiful. He revamped the whole inside and painted the outside. All chrome and black. She was the most important thing Dean owned, and he kept her pristine. He couldn’t help but notice how people stared when he drove up. Some were scared cause they knew exactly who he was, but others looked like they wanted to be sprawled in the backseat naked. Being newly 21, he couldn’t deny that he liked the attention.

With the money came excessive drinking and occasional drug use. Dean found out about the inner workings of Roman Enterprises. It wasn’t baking goods they were selling. Not really. It was mostly cocaine and weed. Lots and lots of cocaine and weed.

He had learned that there were levels underneath Roman Enterprises containing millions and millions of dollars worth of science to create and cultivate these drugs. There were at least two dozen strains of weed, and each one got you high differently. Dean was okay with the regular stuff, but he had tried a few others just to say he had. The cocaine was another story. Dean has tried it, but he doesn't like that he loses control.

He is meeting with Crowley and Alister soon, and they will undoubtedly move his position up in the company. Watching Crowley beat the crap out of people had been exhilarating, but Dean was ready to get his own hands bloody. He had a few of his own ideas on how to get people to pay up or start talking.

Chapter Text

Dean’s promotion had not been a surprise, but the amount of money he was making was. He saved as much as he could, but it was hard not to want to spend it all on drinking and sex. It wasn’t like he was able to date. So, he found himself drunk and slightly satisfied at Crowley’s personal brothel nearly every night. It was too easy to walk in and get what he wanted. But at 22, he wanted more.

“Are you going to get up anytime soon?” Dean sits up quickly and looks at the man sitting across from the bed he’s lying in.

“What do you want, Crowley? It’s my day off.”

“We don’t get days off, darling.” Dean rolls his eyes and stands up in all his naked glory. Crowley doesn’t even hide that he’s looking Dean over, “Maybe put some pants on.” Crowley stands and exits the room leaving Dean to get dressed.

Dean makes his way to Crowley’s office, passing lots of ladies. They all look him over like he’s a piece of meat. A while ago, it would have excited him. Now he just wants to take them to breakfast and drop them off at college. He’s slept with a few of them, and even though it’s mostly lust and sexual tension, he feels he has a connection to them.

“We have a job for you.”

“What kind of job?”

“We need you to find someone and get them to join us. Shouldn’t be too hard with a face yours.”

“Where?” This sounds fun. It’s too easy to charm people into doing what he wants. He leans back in his chair and waits for the information he wants. Something about the way Crowley is smiling at him makes him feel unsettled.

“C Street.” Dean was not expecting that. C Street was full of homeless, drug addicts, prostitutes, and desperate people willing to do anything for money. He sits in the chair and looks at Crowley to see if the older man is joking. Dean had nearly lived on C Street before this job to keep food on the table, pay rent, and put clothes on Sam’s back.

“You serious? You want me to go to C Street?”

“Yes. Trust me, it will be worth it.”

“How so?”

“Trust me.”

“Trust you? Crowley, please. I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you, and I can’t even fucking lift you.”

Crowley laughs, even though he’s being earnest. He hands Dean a folder with all the information he needs and then returns to his computer. Dean stares at the man to ensure he’s not kidding. He’s not. He really wants him to go to C street and find someone named “Andy.”

Chapter Text

C Street during the day is decent. C Street at night is a whole other ballpark. Dean doesn’t dare take his car down there. He would never get any info, and he’d return to all the windows smashed out and the seats missing. It’s not so much that the people are bad; they just do what they have to. Sometimes stealing and destroying things is part of that. 

Dean parks his truck a few blocks away and walks the rest of the way to C Street. Even in a beat-up car, someone would find something to take. But he doesn’t want to take any chances. He gets to the alley's opening and starts walking down the long road. There are people everywhere. They all look at him like they remember him. Some of them even look sad to see him there again. 

“Dean-o! What are you doing here?” A voice asks. He turns around and see’s Gabe handing out soap and toothbrushes to some of the people sitting on the street. Gabe isn’t from C Street, but he often hangs out there. He brings food and toiletries to people. Gabe brings hope to those who have lost it.

“I’m looking for someone,” Gabe stops mid-pass and hands his bag to someone else who takes over for him. 

“Who?” Gabe asks. Dean knows if anyone named Andy were here, Gabe would know. 

“Andy?” Gabe gives Dean a knowing look and points to a small tent towards the back of the area. Dean knows that tent. He’s been in there more times than he wants to admit. That’s where you go when you have nothing left. That’s where you go when you’re willing to do anything to get money to eat or even have warm socks. 

“You sure?” Dean asks. He doesn’t want to go near it, but he has no choice if he wants to keep his job. He sure doesn’t want to end up back here against his will. 

“I’m sure. New kid. Just got here a few weeks ago. He’s nice.” Gabe says sadly. Dean knows what that means. Dean was friendly once too. They like it when you’re friendly. 

He gives Gabe a small smile and heads down the alley to the tent. He gets catcalled a few times by the locals it makes him want to take a three-hour shower and scrub his skin until there is nothing left but bone. He gets to the tent and waits. No sounds are coming from inside, so he rings the small bell next to it. There’s no answer. 

“Andy?” Dean says quietly. He can hear movement and muffled crying. Not wanting to know or see what’s inside, he opens the flap. Inside, he sees a guy about the same age as Sam, bound and gagged. He’s lying face down on the filthy blankets. His face streaked with tears. His pants and down around his thighs. Dean rips the tent door open the rest of the way and gets in to help. The man cries silently while Dean unties him and gets his clothes together. 

“I’m sorry,” Dean says quietly. The man puts himself together the best he can, sits up, and wraps his arms around his knees. 

“Not your fault.” The man says. His voice is quiet and raw. He must have been screaming for hours. Dean looks up at the guy and frowns. This isn’t a way to live. This could have been  him  if it weren’t for Gabe.

“I’m looking for Andy. Are you him?” Dean asks. The man lets out a few silent tears, and Dean can feel the pain of knowing what is happening here flood his mind. The man is probably high out of his mind.

“Not currently. I’m the next best thing.” The man laughs. He then lets out a sob, reaches out, grabs ahold of Dean, and holds him so tight Dean's arms ache. He can’t stop the tears that come out of his eyes. He helps the man out of the tent and takes him to Gabe, who’ll help get him out of there, at least for the night. Crowley can wait. 

Chapter Text

Dean waits a few days before going back to C Street. It had been way too emotional, and he had spent the last few days sulking and having horrible flashbacks of things he's had to endure. When he goes back, he goes during the day. Fewer shady things are going on during the day. He walks around looking for the guy from a few days ago but avoids the back of the alley. He doesn’t like it there. It makes him want to peel his skin off and grow new, untainted skin.

 
He finds a few people he’d seen when he used to run around the area, but no one seems to know who Andy is. Later, Gabe shows up with pizzas and cases of water, and Dean helps him hand them out while he waits for Andy to show up. He had been in the tent. He’ll be back for sure. Only those who have nothing left go in the tent. It was only a matter of time before he would pop back up again.

“So, you’re working for Alistair? He’s made quite a name for himself in the last few years,” Gabe says and hands Dean an empty pizza box.

 
“Yeah,” Dean replies. Gabe stops and turns and looks at him. It’s not just a passing glance, he’s really looking at him, and Dean’s face is starting to heat up. So he busies himself with the empty boxes in front of him.
 
“Do you like it?”

“It’s alright." 

“Dean-”

“I don’t wanna talk about it, Gabe.”

“Okay.” Gabe never pushes. He just asks the hard questions and lets you think it over for weeks until you crack and tell him everything. It isn’t going to happen this time, though. He can’t risk anyone getting involved. He’s seen what happens to innocent bystanders in Alistair’s way. They end up dead or worse.

Dean's starting to see things he knows he shouldn't see. He knows something much worse is happening behind doors he's not privy to go behind. He doesn't know what it is and is not sure he wants to. So he has to start coming up with an exit plan. It will take time, but he has to get out before it's too late. 

Chapter Text

It's a few weeks later when Andy shows up again. He's so high he can barely stand, and Dean has to carry him to his car. Gabe had shown up while Dean was leaving and gave him some phone numbers of people who could help.

Gabe didn't know the details of what Dean was doing with Andy, and he never asked, but Dean wanted to tell him. He knows that at least one other person should know where Andy is. That way, someone not connected to Alistair could identify him if his body appeared in a ditch somewhere.

"Where are you taking me, baby?" Andy asks. Dean wants to throw up. He's asked that more than once and once ended up not being unable to sit down for a week. It was the worst week of his life.

"I'm taking you to my boss," Dean replies. The guy is so high, drunk, or both he's not going to remember anything happening.

"Your boss? Is he big? I could use a good fucking," Andy says. Dean can't stop looking over at the guy to see if he's serious. After a moment, Dean looks back to the road and continues to drive to Roman Enterprises, where Crowley and Alistair wait for him.

"You're cute," Andy says and slides into Dean's space. Dean doesn't dare look at him. He knows by the other man's voice that he's already crying. Andy leans in close to the side of Dean's face and places a gentle kiss on his cheek. Dean hadn't been kissed like that in a long time. He can feel Andy's hand slide up his thigh, and he pulls over and finally looks at the younger man.

"I don't want you," Dean says. He says it harshly. Andy jumps back away from him and whispers a quiet apology. He returns to the road and glances at Andy, who has silent tears falling down his face. Dean's been there. He knows what it's like to be rejected, even if it's by someone you don't even really want.

__________

The next time Dean sees Andy, he's an entirely different person. He's cleaned up and almost shiny. He's in uniform, and Dean can't help but feel a little jealous.

 
"Andy?"

"Yes," He replies. He turns and faces Dean. He keeps eye contact and has a slight smile on his lips.

"Hi, I'm Dean Win-"

"Winchester, I know. You're the man who saved my life," Andy finishes. Dean tries to come up with something to say, but nothing comes out. So he nods.

This person is not the Andy that he saved. It was, but not really. This person in front of him was so put together and polished. It was like he went through years of therapy in months. "I've been meaning to call, but I wasn't sure what to say."

"That's okay. I didn't do anything special. I did what any human should have done."

"You did so much more. I mean, there was Gabriel, but he could only do so much. He never pushes past the point of making you think about your life."

Dean laughs at that. It's true, after all.

Gabe did have a way of making you think about your life and planted the smallest seed of hope inside you. He always made it seem possible that if you wanted something enough, you could get it. Dean believed him for a while until things went wrong. He didn't have a choice after that. C Street would have killed him if he had stayed.

"Gabe has that way about him," Dean says. Andy gives him a look that he can't place, but Andy doesn't say anything more about Gabe. 

They find themselves at a cafe not far from Dean's apartment, catching up and talking for a few hours. Dean doesn't think he's ever been this open with someone. Not Gabe. Not even Sammy. He tells Andy everything about his time on C Street, how his dad is verbally abusive, and how he fears it will get physical. He tells him about saving money and moving away someday. He even talks about Sammy and how he's passing all his classes with flying colors.

When it's nearly dinner time, Dean realizes how much he'd been talking. Andy hadn't shared much about anything except his job. He didn't speak about Alistair or what Alistair and Crowley did with him after he dropped him off. Dean's too curious about it not to ask, so he does.

"What happened after I dropped you off?"

Andy smiles at him as if he knows Dean is going to ask.

"Do you know what you're delivering and enforcing?" Andy asks. Dean shouldn't answer because Andy is in uniform.

"Yes."

"Do you know about the SEL Program?"

Dean hasn't ever heard of anything like that and lets it be known.

"Nope. No idea. I pick up and take deliveries and enforce payment."

"Right." Andy stares at Dean. His eyes scan his face as if he's looking for something. "I have to get going. But I'm glad we were able to catch up."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean it. Thank you for all you did," Andy says and leans in to kiss Dean's mouth. Dean doesn't know what to do with his hands, so he stands there dumbly and lets it happen. Andy backs away, keeping eye contact, and gives Dean a gentle smile. Dean can't help but smile back.

His lips tingle all the way home. He smiles a little as he opens the door and maybe feels a little happy that he made a difference in someone's life. Maybe he's pleased that someone kissed him, and it wasn't because they had some twisted reason. He goes to bed with a smile and hopes that tomorrow will be a better day.

Chapter Text

Dean has his first day off in a long time and decides to sleep late. At least he  tried  to sleep late. It's nearly six in the morning when he hears his dad enter the house. He's boots are heavy on the worn floor, and Dean knows his dad is drunk or worse. His behavior has been so different lately, making Dean's skin crawl. He didn't want to think the worst of his dad. They didn't have the best relationship, but he still loved the man. He still calls him dad.

Dean gets up and walks down the stairs to see his father holding a large mailing envelope. He can see from the entryway into the kitchen that his father's name is in large bulky letters across the front, and there's no address. So Dean figures someone must have dropped it off after he had gone to bed.

"Dad?"

John Winchester stands with his back to Dean near the kitchen sink. He can see that his father is holding something else, but he's not sure what it is. Dean takes a few steps into the kitchen and pulls out the coffee and some mugs.

"You some kind of faggot now?" His father asks suddenly. Dean turns around quickly to face his father, who has now turned and is holding a photo. It's a single photo, and it's of Dean and Andy in the coffee shop. It was the exact moment when Andy had leaned in and kissed him. Dean takes the photos from his father's hands and stares at them. They're grainy, but it's him. He hoped his dad would never find out about his attraction to men.

"This isn't what you think it is, dad," Dean says. John stares at him and then takes a few steps forward. The two men are toe to toe in the kitchen, and it's the first time Dean has genuinely been afraid of his father.

"Do you think I'm fucking stupid, Dean?"

"No!"

"What were you doing all those days that you missed school?"

"That was years ago! I barely remember yesterday." Dean lies. He will always remember some things, no matter how much time passes. 

Dean takes a few steps back. The tension in the room is thick and threatens to suffocate him. He's sure his father has been drinking, but his eyes are clear, and his body language says otherwise. His dad pushes past him bumping him on the way out, and walks up the stairs. Dean can hear him moving things around upstairs. He hears slamming and cursing, and his father is downstairs again, holding a sizable stack of pictures.

"You wanna tell me the truth?" The man asks and slams the stack of photos on the table. Dean jumps with the amount of force his father uses. He's used to his dad slamming things. It was the John Winchester way, but there was something wrong. He wasn't himself. Even drunk, he felt like he fit, but this was all wrong.

Dean takes a few of the photos and scans them. In them, he's about 17, and he's definitely at C Street. The further into the stack he gets, the more explicit they get. Photo after photo of Dean doing unspeakable things for money. Pictures of himself looking broken and sad. Photos of Dean with his head thrown back in pleasure. Dean is on his knees. Dean on his back. Dean is on all fours. Dean bloody. Dean crying.

"I-I don't know what you want me to say." His voice breaks, and tears fall down his face. So many questions come to mind. Who took these photos? Why were they being sent to his father? Why would someone do this?

"You're some kind of, what? Prostitute? You hang out down with those people down there?"

"Dad, no! I stopped years ago."

"Did you like it?"

"Dad, please don't."

His father doesn't say anything for a long time. He stares at something that isn't there. He stares and doesn't move. It's like he's frozen in place, and Dean's too scared to breathe, let alone move. He can't believe this is happening. His worst fear unfolds in front of his face in real-time. His father knows about everything he did to feed himself and Sammy. All the things he did for clothes and gas for the car. 

"She wouldn't have wanted this," John says suddenly. Dean's heart aches in his chest, and he feels like he will fall over. His dad never talks about his mom. Never. The only time he had ever heard him talk about his was when he was nine, and his dad had disappeared for days after leaving Sam and Dean with nothing but peanut butter and jelly.

"You're fucking disgusting."

Dean barely has time to move before his father's hand hits him in the face. Dean hits the ground hard; his body is stunned by the shock. He can't make himself get out of the way of what he knows is coming. Maybe he deserves this. Maybe Gabe was wrong. Maybe there isn't hope.

"You have her fucking eyes, and you're fucking disgusting. I can't even look at you. You're pathetic. I didn't raise you like this, you fucking faggot." A kick to the ribs leaves Dean in tears sobbing. He still can't move. He can't speak. 

Things get blurry after that. He knows his father is hitting him, but he can't seem to make his arms and legs move to defend himself. Instead, he can feel every furious blow to his weakening body. He tastes blood at one point and accepts that this is where he will die.

"She's gone because of you!" His father screams. He's heard his father yell many times, but this is different. Dean is terrified and can't seem to do anything but lay there and take his punishment. It was only a matter of time before Sammy found out about what he did, and he wouldn't want to be a part of him either. Dean slips into unconsciousness silently and slowly.  

Chapter Text

When Dean's eyes open, it's too bright. People are standing over him. Everything seems familiar, but he can't place where he is. Then, finally, he sees a face he recognizes. 

Gold eyes. Light brown hair. Kind eyes.

Hope.

__________

The beeping wakes him. He can't move, but he opens his eyes slowly. It's darker now. There is a body sitting in the chair next to him. They are asleep. He can't make out who the person is and realizes he should be able to see more clearly. He can feel his heart beating quickly and can't catch his breath. He slips in and out of consciousness as the body next to him starts moving.

"Dean…"

"Dean."

"Dean!"

Each call of his name is increasingly frantic, and they both panic. Dean's looking at the man with gold eyes, willing the words he needs to say to come out of his mouth. 

"I can't breathe!" Dean yells, "I can't breathe! I can't-"

"Dean," There are hands on either side of his face, and his eyes are meeting gold. "Listen to my voice, okay? Just listen. Take a breath, Dean. 

You can do this,"

"I can't. I can't-please! I can't breathe!"

"It's a panic attack. You're going to be okay. Just take a deep breath."

He focuses on the eyes and takes his first deep breath. The burning in his lungs eases, and he takes another and another. He's breathing. In and out. In and out. The hands are soft and gentle on his face, and he slowly calms down and can remember a name. 

Gabriel.

A nurse comes in and puts something clear into Dean's iv, and Gabe helps him lay back gently on the bed.

"Sleep."

Dean nods.

__________

Dean wakes again, and it's light outside his window. He looks to his left and sees gold eyes staring at him. Dean tries to smile, but it doesn't feel right.

"How do you feel?" He hears.

He can't think straight. His thoughts are jumbled and jumping over each other. He knows what he wants to say, but the words are all wrong. He can't seem to talk. He can't make his mouth move. 

Panic on his face, Gabe grabs his hand and squeezes it. "Hey, you're going to be okay. Just give it some time, alright? I'm not going to go anywhere."

Dean nods.

__________

He doesn't know how many hours it's been, but he knows that he should be talking by now. He can think now. His ribs hurt like a bitch, but he can think clearly. He tries to speak, but the words won't come out. He tries to write, but his hands won't move. He wants Gabe to stop looking at him like that. 

"We're going to try something new today. Is that okay with you?"

Dean nods.

__________

Gabe still has yet to leave. He has been reading Dean books by Vonnegut. Dean tries to comment or give input, but his mouth still doesn't want to work. It opens and closes, but that's about it.

Sleep doesn't come easily. The doctors told him he had a traumatic brain injury and shouldn't be alive. He shouldn't have lived through what he went through. He can't remember what he went through, and he can't ask anyone. He's starting to get bored, and the healing wounds on his face itch, and he can't scratch them. His hands and arms barely move.

"Are you ready to sleep?" Andy asks.

Dean nods.

__________

“W-w-w-ater.” Dean says. Gabe shoots up out of his chair and yells for a nurse.

"I'll get you some. I'll get you all the water in damn the world. Alright, buddy?" Dean's not sure why Gabe is so happy or why tears are coming from his eyes, but there are.

Dean nods.

__________

"Gabe," Dean chokes out. Gabe stops pacing on the phone and turns to look at Dean, who has a smile on his face. He can't explain that he's been practicing when he can't sleep. He can't explain that it's easier to say words when it's quiet.

"Hey! New word!" Gabe says and hangs up without saying goodbye. Dean wants to laugh.

"Gabe," Dean says again. He can't change his tone yet, and he wishes his stupid hands would stop feeling so weak so he can give the guy a high five.

"You're doing fine. Give it time, okay?"

__________

Dean hates the hospital. He's sick of the medications because they make his brain fuzzy. Getting up and walking out sounds better every day, but it's impossible. He doesn't even fully know why he's here. He knows there was a fight, but he hasn't seen his brother, and no one has mentioned his dad.

Dad.

Dean's head feels a little weird, and he stares off into the corner of the room. He has short visions of something he can't place or remember.

Something happened with dad.

Dad.

Dad did something.

Dad.

Why?

Dad hurt me.

Dad.

Why?

"Gabe!" Dean yells. It's so forceful he even shocks himself. Gabe nearly falls over from being startled.

"Jesus! You nearly made me piss my pants," Gabe stands, walks over to the bed, and takes Dean's hand. It takes everything he has to squeeze Gabe's hand as hard as he can. He knows it's not much, but he has to improve.

"Dad," Dean says. He knows by the look on Gabe's face that he's starting to remember what had happened.

"Ah, kiddo. I'm so sorry. You're doing great, I promise. Just keep fighting."

"Fight," Dean says. The rage boiling under his skin is the only thing that will keep him going.

Chapter Text

Dean keeps driving, and Charlie keeps calling. He's an hour out of town before he lets himself listen to some of her voicemails.

"Call me back."

"Dean Winchester, I'll kill you if you don't call me back."

"Look, Dean, this isn't your fault. Okay? It's just a lot of information to take in. Please come back. Don't you think you should stop running?"  Dean hears some shuffling on the phone, and then there's a new voice.

"Dean?" Cas says. The worry in his voice overshadowed anything Dean may have experienced before he left. I -please come back. I'll stay if that's what you want, but please don't leave angry. Don't leave before I can tell you- Just, please come back."

There are at least three more messages, but he doesn't bother listening to them. He's already turning around to go back. No one has wanted him to stay after them finding out about his past. He still needs to get into the details of everything. He doesn't know if he can trust them, but he wants to. He wants to go home to his friends and be content with his life. He wants to stop fighting against his instincts to settle down. He wants a house, a yard, and a garage to work on the car. He wants it all, but he also knows his life wasn't made for that.

He takes his time driving back to town. He takes in the trees and water. He looks at the sky several times to watch the birds fly overhead. He can't stop himself from feeling better and better as he makes his way back to his apartment, but there's also the feeling of dread. How is he going to get through this? The last time he had to talk about his past, he could barely get it out. His panic attack was almost immediate and lasted an hour. He texts Charlie when he's a few minutes away to give her a heads-up that he's nearly there and has gotten her messages.

He had something to help him this time, though. He had what Andy had sent. He didn't expect the package to arrive in just a few days. It took him a week to open it and then a few more days to look inside it. It sat on his table for days mocking him. He wanted to know what was inside, but it also scared him to know that it could be something awful.

It wasn't very good, but it was also freeing. It was all the answers to all the questions Dean had. It was all the information on Alistair that he would need to take him down. It was the truth of what was going on behind the trafficking of illegal drugs and large amounts of money. He had to wait, though. He had to make a plan. Maybe having Cas and Charlie on his side wouldn't be so bad.

__________

Dean pulls up to his building and sits in the car for a while. The sound of the engine cooling is calming and makes him feel more at ease. It will be challenging to talk about his past or the truth of what happened to his friends. It will not be easy to look Cas in the eye and tell him that he cares about him, but he has to.

He gets out of the car and opens the trunk. He pulls up the false bottom and pulls out the folder filled with the information Cas and Charlie deserve. The information makes up a large percentage of his first adult years: the good, the bad, and the ugly. Everything about him laid out on paper no thicker than a child's chapter book. He makes his way up the stairs and to his front door. It seems silly, but he knocks anyway.

"Hello, Dean," Dean isn't sure who reaches out to who first, but being in Cas's arms is like being in heaven. He can't help but breathe the other man in. He doesn't even hide that he's crying. They stay like that for a few moments before Charlie comes out and clears her throat.

"I'm glad you're back," She says. Dean can tell that she means it. She looks so exhausted it's hard for him to imagine that she's the spunky, outspoken woman he's become so attached to.

"Thanks. I uh- I brought you something," Dean hands her the folder and makes his way to the couch. It's best if he's sitting to talk about this in case he has a panic attack and passes out.

"You seem different," Cas says. Dean looks up at him. Cas stands in the middle of the living room with his arms crossed over his chest. Charlie stands a few feet away, holding the folder, turning it over a few times in her hands. Cas stares at it. Dean looks between the two, wanting them to say something or do something. The quiet is making him feel crazy.

After an eternity, Charlie sets the folder on the coffee table across from Cas. His eyes don't leave it. Instead, he stares at it as if it's going to open by itself or it will start talking to him.

"This folder is everything you need to know about me and my past."

"I don't care about your past," Cas says. Dean notices Charlie's reaction next to him. She looks like she's about to cry. She looks like she wants to say something, but she doesn't.

"Cas, I- I'm sorry. I, I don't do this. People don't- once they know. They leave. Or I leave. Once you know this, whatever we have, will be gone."

Cas doesn't move for a moment. He stands there and stares at the folder. He looks like he wants to read it but is conflicted. Finally, he walks over to it and picks it up. Dean's heart is beating so fast that he feels like he will pass out. It feels like hours pass while Cas flips through page after page reading everything about Dean. Every little detail. His time in the hospital, Gabe, on C Street, what he did for Alistair, Andy, school, birth records, addresses, phone numbers, everything.

"Dean?" Charlie asks. Dean looks over at her. It isn't until she grabs his hand that he realizes he'd been holding his breath. She gives his hand a squeeze and smiles. It's small and unsure, but it's real. It's honest. Cas clears his throat, and Dean looks up at him. He's frowning.

"You can go now if you want," Dean says. He doesn't want to cry, but his eyes are stinging.

"I'm not leaving."

"Come on, Cas, you can't possibly want to stay. I haven't done a decent thing in my whole damn life."

Cas takes a few careful steps to the couch and sits down on the other side of Dean. He stares as if he's trying to convey a secret message. Dean feels like the whole world is moving slowly as Cas's arms wrap around him again. This hug feels different. This hug feels like something he hasn't felt in a long time. 

"You have done plenty to protect the ones you love. You've given so much that you can't see what you mean to those around you. You're-you're special, Dean. You're- amazing, and if it weren't for you, I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't be here, and  you  did that."

They sit and cry and talk long into the following day. No one says hurtful words or makes fun of Dean. No one acts like he's the scum of the earth. No one makes him feel less for the things he had to do when he was younger. Instead, he feels like he's maybe finally found a place where he can be himself and be okay. 

Chapter Text

"What are we going to do about Alistair?" Dean asks. Charlie has long gone home. Dean and Cas are on the couch, sitting so close that Dean can smell Cas's toothpaste and shampoo.

"I don't want anyone else to get involved in this," Cas says. Dean nods in agreement and leans his head on Cas's shoulder. Little touches here and there have become common in the past few days. Nothing intense, just small intimate moments to let one know the other is there. Dean can feel the tension between them, though. It creeps in when it's just the two of them. 

He's had enough of the tension. He's tired of feeling like Cas will walk out the door, and he'll never see him again. Dean can sense every time Castiel has questions. Like now. He can feel Castiel staring at the side of his head. 

 "You've been thinking pretty hard over there," Dean finally says. 

"I have questions, but I don't want you to feel pressured to answer."

"I wouldn't feel pressured," Dean says. He means it. He wants to be honest with Castiel about things because that's what you do when you care about someone. 

"Why did you take the job with Alistair?" Dean knew questions were coming, but he didn't expect that one. He wants to lie but knows if the situation were reversed, Dean would want the truth. No matter how intense it might be.

 "At first, I needed money to get Sam off to school. I was going to stop, but I did what all desperate kids do and got in over my head. I felt trapped. I knew too much about what was going on just to quit, and even though I had an exit plan, it was never the right time."

"Who's Gabriel?" Cas asks. Something about the way Cas looks at him worries him. Gabe was his friend. He was a good friend, and because of Dean, he could have died. The topic of Gabriel has never come up before.

"He was my friend. He helped me out. A lot. He-he saved my life." Dean confesses and looks at his hands. He doesn't think he can say much more than that. Despite knowing Gabe is alive and well, Dean feels guilty about running that night. He looks up at Cas, but he still has that unreadable look.

"What happened to him?"

Dean's eyes start burning before Castiel finishes his question. He wasn't thinking that Castiel would be asking about Gabriel. It's one of the hardest things for Dean to discuss. Not only because Gabe was seriously injured but because talking about him means that what happened happened. It means that what happened with his dad is real. It means his lying to Sam all this time is real. 

"He- Crowley came looking for me. And Gabriel warned me that they were coming, but he couldn't get out before they got there. He practically shoved me out the back door. They shot him, and I ran. I should have just faced them, but I ran." Dean sobs. He feels foolish for being so emotional. Castiel didn't ask for any of this. As usual, Dean is too much, and Cas will leave. 

Castiel stays quiet for a long time while Dean sits and allows the shame to roll over him in waves. Finally, after the long silence, Castiel reaches out his hand and takes Dean's into his. 

"I understand." Cas finally says, "Did you ever tell Sam about any of this?"

"No. Never."

"Why not?"

"He was a kid. What would I have said?" Dean asks. He had to take care of Sam and protect him from the harsh reality of their lives. Dean wishes someone would have done that for him. There was Gabriel, but Gabe came later. By then, it was too late; the damage had already been done. 

"You were also a child, Dean."

"Listen, taking care of Sammy was my job, and I barely did that well. So telling him about this would not be helpful. For him and me. He'd be furious, and I don't think I can handle that right now."

"Dean-"

"No," He doesn't want to think about Sam knowing about what he did for food, money, and sometimes for fun. How do you explain that? The truth is, he doesn't want to acknowledge that Sam probably already knew. It wasn't hard to figure out; Sam was brilliant. He could tell the second Dean came in what he had been up to. Sam probably knew it all. If Sam knows, then he failed his only job. 

"Okay," Cas says. "Let's go to bed."

Dean falls asleep after a bit and doesn't wake up until the next day. He wakes up to his alarm blaring and rolls over to turn it off, but it's already off before he can get to it. There is a mess of dark hair moving next to him. He watches as the figure gets up and walks out into the hallway. Cas refuses to sleep alone anymore. Dean doesn't mind. 

He can hear footsteps and then gurgles from the coffee maker. He listens as pots and pans tink and clang together, and silverware is taken from the drawer. Relaxed, he slips into a peaceful rest listening to the movements in the other room. Knowing he isn't alone makes him feel safe. 

"Dean."

He opens his eyes, and Cas is standing there with a mug of coffee in his hand. He sets it down on Dean's side table and sits next to him. He places a hand on Dean's face, leans in close, and kisses his forehead.

"Thanks," Dean mutters. Cas gets up and goes back to the kitchen. Dean takes a few slow sips from his coffee. It's perfect; creamer and just a hint of sweetener. He can smell the bacon as he gets into the shower. 

Cas has gotten up nearly every day to make Dean coffee and breakfast. He knows it's not going to last forever, so he tries not to be used to it, but it feels nice waking up to someone. The urge to leave is still in the back of his mind. He still wants to pack everything up and go.

A few more days pass, and nothing happens. Cas takes care of Dean, and Dean lets him. It's all very domestic, and it makes Dean's skin crawl. He wants to leave. He wants to get away and go before something terrible happens. He thinks about it every day on his way to work. He could keep driving. He could leave without a word, but he won't.

"Dean?" Dean looks up and sees Cas looking at him from the kitchen with a concerned look. "Are you going to answer it?"

He looks down and see's his phone buzzing on the coffee table. He picks it up and stares at it for a moment before finally answering.

"Hello?"

" Dean?"

"Yeah, what's up, Charlie?"

"I need you to come to Purgatory and bring Cas."  Her tone is light but urgent.

"What's going on?"

"I just...can you please just get here?"

 "Yeah, we'll be there soon." Dean hangs up and looks at Cas, who's still standing in the doorway of the bedroom. "Charlie needs us to meet her at Benny's."

 Cas nods. The two get dressed and make their way to Benny's shop. The sheriff's car is outside, and Dean feels like he's gonna. Something must have happened. Benny is talking to the sheriff in his office, and Charlie sits in one of the stylist chairs.

"Charlie?" Cas asks. She looks up and smiles.

"They got him," She says and stands. She makes her way to Dean and locks her arms around him. 

"What do you mean?"

"That asshole was trying to get Benny to do business with him. It turns out that sad sack is wanted in like seven states for drug trafficking." She's just finished talking when the agent and Benny walk out.

"Dean Winchester?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You're a hard guy to find. I'm Agent Mills. I've been trying to find you for a while." 

Chapter Text

Dean's sat in the local sheriff's office waiting for Agent Mills. It's about time that his past finally caught up to him. The fact that all the chaos in his life hadn't found him sooner shocks him. He looks around the small room and sighs. His fingers tapped on the desk in front of him over and over. He can hear whenever someone passes by the door, but no one enters. He feels anxious. Cas is waiting in the lobby.

A few more minutes pass, and he notices the manila envelope on the desk. The corner of it is barely sticking out, but he recognizes the handwriting and pulls it out of the stack. It says "Agent Jody Mills" across the front. It's much thicker than his envelope. Then, just as he's about to open it, the door opens behind him. He sets it down, embarrassed. 

"I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Mr. Winchester." Agent Mills says. She has a kind smile.

"Do you know him?" Dean asks. He doesn't know how much he should or shouldn't say, but he feels safe enough to ask that.

"I did." The word 'did' makes Dean feel uncomfortable. He watches her as she sits down and hands the envelope back to him. "Go ahead."

He takes a deep breath and opens the envelope, pulling out all the papers in one grab. They feel heavy in his hands. On the top of the stack is a handwritten note.

Sheriff Mills, Please forgive me. I hope you can do something with this information. Thank you. 

                                                                                                   -A

Next was page after page of typed text. Most of the pages are covered in thick black lines. There are notes in the margins along with phone numbers, addresses, and states. He skims the parts he's able to read, but one section sticks out:

"Gabriel Novak was always there. He helped when and where he could. I learned that Gabriel had a younger brother, Castiel Novak, with whom he had a falling out, and that's why he helped on C-Street. Dean Winchester was just a kid when he met Gabe. I never knew the details of their meeting, only that Gabriel was fiercely protective of him."

Dean sets the stack of papers on the desk and looks at Jody, watching him intently. 

"We had to take a lot of the information out because the less you know, the better. I can't do anything to protect you from the law. However, Alistair is gone. I'll let you have a week to get your things in order, and then we'll go from there."

"What about Crowley?" Dean asks seriously. Alistair was a dick, but he wasn't nearly as bad as Crowley.

"We haven't been able to locate him, and Dr. Alva isn't talking." She looks at Dean and then looks past him through the glass. He looks behind him and see's Cas sitting at the end of the hall. He looks stressed. 

"I suspect you'll stay put for the time being?" She asks firmly. Dean nods in agreement. He gets up and walks down the hall in a haze. He doesn't know what to think. He doesn't know what to do. The only thing that resonates in his head is that Gabriel had a brother. Not only that, but Castiel is said brother. 

Chapter Text

Dean stops at the end of the hallway to the lobby of the police station and stares at Cas sitting at the other end. He's leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, eyes downcast. Cas is praying. Dean hears a faint amen, and then Cas looks up. Tears in his eyes, the other man jumps up, quickly gets to Dean, and wraps his arms around him so tightly Dean can barely breathe.

"I'm sorry," Cas mumbles. Dean pulls the man off him himself and looks him in the eyes.

"For what?" Dean asks. It comes out harsher than he means it.

"I should have told you who I was."

"When did you figure it out?" Dean asks. Castiel doesn't say anything. Cas sits down in the chair and looks up at Dean.

"I had a suspicion the night Charlie came home with you. The night you brought home that envelope confirmed it. I got one too a while ago." Dean realizes that this goes much deeper than he ever could have imagined. He also realizes that his meeting of Castiel might not have been an accident. 

Dean takes a step away from Cas and sighs. He doesn't know what his emotions are doing. Part of him feels relieved that Cas knows about everything and is still willing to stand beside him, but there's something else brewing underneath his skin. If he had to identify the feeling quickly, he'd call it anger, but really, he'd discover fear. Not only fear that Cas might be dangerous but that he might have to lose him. 

"Let's go home, okay? We can talk about it later. I need to call Sam," neither man says anything else until they are in the car. Dean can feel Cas's eyes burning into him. He knows Cas wants him to say something, but he doesn't know what to say.

"I don't know what I feel right now," Dean says honestly. He pulls off onto the side of the road and turns himself towards Cas. Cas stares at him, his eyes pleading for something Dean can't give.

"This not ideal, Dean. I can understand that, but we have to make a plan. Crowley is still out there, and we have yet to determine whether he knows where you live. So let's talk about this, but let's take it one thing at a time. Can you give me that?"

Dean has no words, so he nods and returns to the road headed toward home. They pull up to the apartment, and Cas gets out. He leans in and looks at Dean, who can't seem to take his hands off the steering wheel. 

"I gotta drive, Cas," Dean says. 

"I hope I'll see you soon," Cas replies. 

Dean drives past everything he has known for the last few years and follows the signs to the base of a mountain outside town. Driving always cleared his mind when there was too much going on. He drives until he comes to a clearing near one of the more popular hiking trails. He's heard many people talk about it over the last few years. He gets out and takes some deep breaths, taking in the view of the town below. The lights light up the night sky. He can see cars driving around town. He idly wonders where they are going or coming from, leaving him feeling something he can't explain. 

His phone pulls him from his thoughts. 

"Hello?"

"Sammy?"

"Dean? Where are you? I have a dozen phone calls from a woman named Jody Mills. What is going on?"

"I don't even know where to begin, Sammy." As he says the words, he realizes that Castiel is right. He should have told Sam about this a long time ago.

"How about you go home and talk with Cas, and then I'll be there on the first flight out." 

How did Sam know that Cas was staying with him? He must have gotten more information from Jody than Dean's comfortable. Sam could be very persuasive and likely charmed the information out of her. He had learned how to do it from the best, Dean himself. 

"Sa-"

"I'm already on my way to the airport."

"Okay, I'll come to get you."

"Dean, you and I both know you can't do that."  Something at the edge of his voice makes Dean feel like he's failed at protecting Sam from the evil in the world.

"Sammy, I'm sorry," Dean says. Tears blur his vision before he can even finish his apology, and he can't stop the sob that claws its way out of his throat. Dean cries and doesn't stop until he hears Sam sniffling on the line. He quiets himself, wipes his eyes on the backs of his hands, and gathers himself the best he can. He takes in a shaky breath and listens to his brother cry on the line.

"Dean,"  Sam says, his voice raw and sad.  "You have nothing,  nothing , to be sorry for."

"I do, Sam. I should have told you everything a long time ago."

"Maybe that's true, but we're going to get through this now. I'll be there soon."  Sam hangs up and leaves Dean to his devices. He could keep driving towards the summit or turn around and go to Cas.

He can picture Cas sitting on the couch in the apartment they have shared for the last month, reading or watching a documentary. Calm and collected, even when they discover their worlds are more intertwined than they could have imagined. The decision to go home seems simpler than ever. They say everything is a choice. If that's true, he's choosing Cas. 

Chapter Text

Cas is asleep when Dean gets back to the apartment. He’s curled up in the middle of the bed, covered in blankets. He can barely make out the top of Cas’s head peeking out from beneath the heap.

He removes his boots, jacket, and jeans, leaving him in his t-shirt and boxers. He crawls into the bed, pulls blankets over himself, and shifts his front against Cas’s back. It feels so right to be next to him. He doesn't know when his feelings started to change, but it's overwhelming. 

Cas moves a little, and Dean holds his breath. He doesn’t think he can talk anymore tonight. He wants to sleep. Sam will be arriving soon, and he needs all the strength he can get for that conversation. He lets out his breath once Cas settles and gets comfortable as gently as possible. 

“Dean?” He hears in the darkness. Cas's low voice soothes him in ways he could never describe.  

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry,” Cas says and rolls over to face Dean. They can't see each other in the darkness, but he knows Cas is looking at him. 

“Yeah, me too.”

It's silent for a long time. Both men lie awake, thinking, processing, and trying to put the pieces together. Something has shifted in Dean. He should be skeptical of Cas, telling the other man to get the fuck out, but that's not what he wants. He wants to stay right where he is and enjoy the feeling of another person. Cas is a person he cares about and someone who, despite everything, he feels he can trust.  

“I think I'm in love with you,” Dean says, almost dumbfounded. He knows it’s too late to take it back, and the longer Cas doesn’t say anything, the more Dean folds in on himself. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Cas pulls him into a hug. He gently kisses the top of Dean’s head, and Dean tries not to focus on the feeling of warmth washing over him. Cas doesn’t need to stay it back.

“What are you afraid of, Dean?”

“I don’t know what to tell Sammy. I'm worried he’ll look at me differently. That I’ll seem different to him, and things between us will be different. I need Sam and me to stay close. I need us to stay how we are.” Dean admits. 

“The truth. Sam needs the truth and deserves it.”

“Yeah,” Dean sighs, “I know.”

“You don’t think something like this could bring you closer?”

“I honestly don’t know. I can hope.”

The two don’t get much sleep. Instead, they talk most of the night and finally fall asleep for a few hours before Sam shows up. 

__________

Sam is still a giant. Dean can’t stop looking at his little brother, who towers over him by a good foot. He had been only a little taller than Dean the last time he had seen him. His hair is also really long, and Dean can’t help but smile about it. Their dad must hate it, but it suits Sam. 

“Hiya, Sammy,” Dean says as Sam walks through the door. He sets his bags down and immediately hugs his brother. They hadn’t seen each other in person for a few years. They talked on the phone and video chatted, but seeing Sam in person was like breathing fresh air. 

“You must be Castiel,” Sam says and lets go of Dean. Cas stands awkwardly near the couch and smiles. 

“I’m glad to meet you, Sam,” Cas says. They shake hands.

“So, what’s going on?”

“Are we just going to jump right in? No breakfast or coffee?”

“I could use some coffee, but yes. We’re going to jump right in,” Dean can’t stop himself from looking at the folder on the table. His truth is sitting there in the open for anyone to see. Sam follows his gaze but doesn’t go for the folder. Instead, he waits for Dean to start talking, which might be worse. 

“I’m sorry, Sam. I didn’t want you to find out about all this.” Dean says quietly. Cas returns with two cups of coffee and hands one to each of the brothers before taking a seat at the dining room table. He’s close enough to hear the brother's conversation but also far enough away to give the brothers some privacy. 

“From the sounds of it, you weren’t going to tell me anything. So, instead, I get a phone call from a detective trying to figure out if you’re a flight risk or not. I then find out you have been avoiding one of the largest drug dealers in the country and may have possibly worked for him. So, I’m sorry if I’m ruining your plans.” Sam’s pissed, and Dean can’t blame him. If things had been the other way around, Dean would have been just as upset, maybe more. 

Sam always could see things differently. He understands in a way that Dean can't. It's always been one of Sam's superpowers, and even then, Dean feels sick to his stomach. They sit on the couch while Sam stares at Dean, and Dean stares at the folder. 

“Dean?” Cas finally says. Dean’s gaze shifts to Castiel for a moment, and then he reaches for the folder. He wants to run. He wants to get as far away as possible but can’t. He owes Sam the truth.

He hands his brother the folder and looks at Cas, who nods at him in encouragement. He can’t take it back once Sam takes hold of it. Sam takes the folder and holds it in his hands before opening it. Tears spring to Dean’s eyes before anything has even happened.  

Sam doesn’t say anything as he reads through the pages of Dean's secret life. Everything he’s tried to protect Sam from is out in the open. There truly is no going back. Sam clears his throat and looks at Dean. 

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” Sam asks. The hurt in his voice is more prevalent now than the anger before. 

“Sammy...I...I’m- I don’t have an explanation for you. I did what I had to do. And dad, he just made things worse. He put me in the hospital, Sam. I wanted to protect you. Save you from ever having to make the choices that I did.”

“Please tell me you don’t believe that you were protecting me. You were gone, Dean. A lot. Dad was an awful drunk, and we had it out more times than I can count. I had to do some fucked up shit too. So why didn’t you trust me with this?” Sam asks, shaking the folder at Dean and then tossing it to the coffee table. 

“I don’t know! I just couldn’t. I didn’t think you’d want to be in my life. I thought you’d leave me.”

“Leave you? Dean, you left  me . You left without a word, and I was worried about you! And dad? Shit, Dean. It wasn't good for a long time. He drank himself nearly to death. I know that it’s hard to hear, but you didn’t save me from anything. I was there too.”

“I was just a kid, Sammy. I was a kid who had too much responsibility forced on his shoulders. I had no business raising you, but everything I did, I did for you! You needed school clothes, lunch, books, and a decent birthday every year. Then, you got into that program for college, and Dad wasn't there. He had drilled it into my head that you were my responsibility! I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me, but I can’t take anything back.”

“I don’t want you to take anything back. I want you to be honest with me. I’m your brother, for God’s sake.”

“You’re right.” 

“So, what do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” Dean replies, and it’s the truth. He has no idea where to go from here. He doesn’t know what to do or what to say. 

“Do you have any legal council? Have you been charged or given a court date?”

“I haven’t done anything, Sam. I don’t know where to begin.” Dean confesses. Sam looks at him for a moment and then excuses himself to the balcony outside. Dean watches as Sam pulls out his phone and makes a phone call. He can’t hear anything, but he knows it’s serious. 

“Dean, would you like something to eat?” Cas asks quietly. 

“No, I’m okay. Thanks, Cas.” Dean says and turns back to his brother, who’s entering the room again. 

“I don’t know all of the details of this case, but I’m going to do what I can to help you. I called a friend, and he will help in a few days. The good news is, you haven’t been charged with anything.”

“Okay,” Dean says. He’s at a loss for words. He feels so much these days. 

Dean walks over to the couch and sits down. He's overwhelmed and knows he's about to have a full-blown meltdown in front of Sam and Cas. His heart is racing, and he can't keep his breathing even. He looks at Cas as if to plead for help, even though there isn't much that Cas can do. His eyes flick to his brother, and Sam looks horrified. 

He’s tried hard to leave the past behind, and now it's here, making his life hell again. He doesn't want to see Crowley or Alistair, and he certainly doesn’t want to be charged with their crimes.

Cas kneels in front of Dean and takes his hands. They're ice cold. Dean sniffles and looks down at Cas's hands in his. They are wet and dripping all over the carpet. He watches as Cas starts taking slow breaths. Dean doesn't know why, but he starts to do it too. His heart rate slows, and he gains control again. 

“Dean, it’s going to be okay,” Cas says. 

“Doesn’t feel like it.” He replies and looks up at Sam, who has an unreadable look on his face. Dean closes his eyes and puts his head in his hands. Crying seems to be the only thing he's capable of right now. 

“We’ll take it a day at a time,” Sam says and sits down next to Dean. Dean feels the pressure of a hand on his back rubbing gently and leans into it. Castiel's arms come up around his neck and pull him in close. 

"We've got you, Dean. Okay?"

“Yeah,” Dean says, “Okay.”

Chapter Text

The next few weeks drag on, full of paperwork and tons of shit that Dean doesn’t fully understand. He doesn't know what Brady told the police, but he does know he’s lucky that he doesn’t have to serve any time. So Dean gives the police and lawyers all the information he can and doesn’t look back. 

Cas stays with him, but they haven’t had a real conversation since Dean confessed his feelings. Sam stays in a hotel, which means there are plenty of opportunities to talk, but it never happens. 

“What’s up with you? You’re acting weird.” Sam says, flipping through pages of court documents that Brady brought and left with Sam for review. He's over for dinner. 

“I’m fine, Sammy.”

“You aren’t fine. I can see it written all over your face. Things with Cas going okay?” Sam asks, eyeing Castiel sitting in the other room. 

“What do you mean ‘things with Cas’? Nothing is going on.” And that's the issue. Cas hasn’t said anything substantial to him in days, so he doesn’t know where they stand. So even if he wants to tell Sam everything, he can’t because  he’s  not even sure what’s happening between them.

“Okay,” Sam says and goes back to reading over the page he has in his hand. Dean should be happy that his brother accepts his answer, but a part of him wants to talk about it.

“You want to go out?” Dean nearly shouts. It’s a terrible choice, but he needs a drink. Sam eyes him over his paper. Dean doesn’t miss the way Sam’s eyes look at where Cas is sitting in the living room watching a documentary on bees. 

Sam loudly clears his throat and gives Dean a look. Dean ignores him and goes to his room to get dressed. He doesn’t need Sam getting in the middle of things. It will only make it more awkward and weird. Besides, Cas probably heard him and will change if he wants to go. 

Cas doesn’t come in. 

Dean quickly gets dressed and finds Sam sitting next to Cas on the couch, watching the documentary.

“You ready?” Sam asks. 

“Yep,” Dean replies. He tries to sound cool, calm, and collected, but he sounds awkward. Cas turns and looks at him with a look of confusion. He clears his throat for a second time and tries again. “Yeah, I’m ready. You want anything, Cas?”

“No, thank you. I’ll have leftovers.” He says and gives Dean a small smile. Dean can’t help but smile back. 

“Okay, we’ll be back soon.”

“Okay.”

__________

They decide to go to The Roadhouse. The music is live but not too loud, and the food is good. They sit down and order their drinks. Dean gets a beer and a shot of whiskey, and Sam gets a glass of water. 

“You sure you want to drink?” Sam asks, eyeing Dean’s now empty shot glass. 

“Are you judging me?”

“No. No, I’m not judging you. I’m just- worried.”

“Worried about what?” Dean asks, slightly alarmed. Was he going to have to serve time after all?

“It’s not about the case. I just-how much do you know about Castiel?” Sam asks. Dean wants to get mad and yell in his face to shut up about stuff he doesn’t understand, but he's right. Dean doesn’t know a lot about Cas. But he knows how he feels about the man. Dean isn’t careless with his feelings, so the fact that he’s told Cas he loves him means something. 

But the way Sam asks leads him to believe that Sam knows something about Cas that Dean doesn’t. And it’s also apparent that Sam did much more digging around in Dean and Cas’s lives than he feels comfortable with.  

“Okay, I’ll bite. What?” Dean finally says. 

“What, what?” Sam pretends to look shocked and offended. 

“Sam, I know you. You found out something about Cas and want to tell me, but you don’t want to upset Cas because it’s probably something important that Cas should tell me himself.”

“Damn, you’re good.”

“Always have been.”

“Fine, I’ll leave it alone.”

“He’s the best person I’ve ever met. He goes above and beyond for those he cares about and never asks for anything in return. He even makes my coffee exactly the way I like it. Of course, our situation is not ideal, but it’s what works for us right now. I don’t know what tomorrow will look like, but I know how I feel right now is real.”

“So, you love him then?” Sam asks quietly and picks at his napkin, dampened by the condensation of his ice water. Dean hadn't officially come out, so he stares at Sam, trying to gauge his expression. Lying to his brother is no longer an option, but what if this is the thing that breaks them apart? He goes back and forth for a minute in his head.

Cas is important, too.  

Sam will have to learn how to deal if he has an issue. 

“Yeah, I do,” Dean says confidently. He does mean it. He does love Cas even though the feeling is still in its early stages.

“Good, that’s good.” Sam smiles. Dean wants to ask him why it’s good, but he's not ready to have his brother weigh in on his non-relationship relationship. "You seem happy around him."

"I am. I think. He hasn't been very talkative lately."

"Give him some time, Dean. Your lives are intertwined in an intense way, and he's probably just trying to figure it out. You still need to tell him." Sam looks up, and Dean smiles at him awkwardly. "Dean!"

"I'm trying to be more honest with people. But, it was more of a revelation to myself that I accidentally said out loud. While we were lying in the same bed."

"Jesus. You've got it bad."

"I know. How’s dad?” Dean asks and then promptly takes another shot of whiskey. He knows bringing up the older Winchester is dangerous, but a part of him still cares about John, and it's been years since he's seen or spoken to his dad in person or otherwise. 

“Dying,” Sam responds quickly. Dean knows it’s a dig, but he ignores it. 

“He uh- ask about me?”

“All the time." Sam says, "I’m not going to be the go-between. If you want to talk to dad, you’ll need to call him up and talk to him yourself. I tell him the same damn thing. You two are so fucking stubborn it kills me.”

"He almost killed me, Sam."

"And now he's dying. So call him and tell him to fuck off," Sam chuckles. It's morbid, but they laugh because the situation is fucked up, and it's better than crying. 

“Alright, I’ll call dad,” Dean says without thinking. He doesn’t feel ready, though. Not to mention his father put him in the hospital. He shuts down those thoughts and takes a few large gulps of his beer. 

Sam asks a few questions here and there, but for the most part, they eat in silence. It’s not uncomfortable, but not comfortable either. Dean knows Sam has more to say, but he’s glad he doesn’t. Dean has a few more drinks, and they talk a little more. Sam brings up the time Dean had to get him to the hospital with just his bike. Dean brings up the time they went out into the deep woods of Kansas, found a 'dry-ass field,' and accidentally lit it on fire by shooting fireworks. 

The two men sit and talk for a couple of hours, and Dean drinks too much. Finally, Sam takes the keys so they can pay and get home before Dean gets more embarrassing.  

“Don’t scratch her,” Dean slurs and laughs. Maybe he’s a little drunker than he thought. 

“I won’t,” Sam shakes his head and smirks.

Dean turns on the radio and sings along to a classic rock song loudly and offkey. Sam joins in after a few moments, just like when they were kids. It’s been a crazy few weeks, and Dean feels emotionally raw. Dean had missed his brother so much. By the time they get home Dean can't stop smiling. 

Cas is sitting on the couch reading when the two brothers walk in. He looks up and smiles at them, and Dean can’t help but stare. Something about Cas brings out a different side of Dean. A happier, less messy side. There is safety with Cas. Something Dean doesn't ever remember feeling in his entire life. 

“I’m going to get going. I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon.” Sam says and claps Dean on the back. He then turns and hangs the keys on the hook by the door.

“Wait, Sam,” Dean says as Sam opens the door and steps out. Dean follows him and pulls him into a tight hug. It probably lasts longer than needed, and if they both are misty-eyed after, that's their business.

“Talk to him,” Sam says and leaves down the hallway to the elevator. Once Sam is gone, Dean turns and sees Cas looking at him. 

“Are you drunk?” Castiel asks. 

“A little.” Dean laughs and plops down next to Cas after closing and locking the front door. Cas hums in acknowledgment and returns to his book, but he wants to know how Cas feels about him. 

“Cas, are you upset with me?” Dean asks. 

“Upset with you?” 

“Yeah. We haven’t talked a whole lot since everything happened.” 

“Do you want to talk now?” Cas chuckles and sets his book down. 

“Yes,” Dean replies and takes Cas's hand. He stares at his fingers and wonders what it would feel like to have them touch him. Not the little touches they share now, but discovering his body without fear or worry. He looks Castiel in the eye and smiles. 

“I’m not upset with you.” Cas looks down at their joined hands. Dean gently traces out the shape of Cas's hand, allowing himself to be tender and present in this moment. 

“That’s good to hear.”

“I’m upset with myself.” Cas’s eyes flick up and meet Dean’s. Dean doesn’t know what Cas is about to say, but it seems it will be important. Maybe he should have waited for this conversation, but he doubts he will be as brave when sober. “I feel guilty for judging you. I feel confused about how I feel about you and how things happened so fast.”

“How do you feel about me?” Dean asks and looks down at their fingers again. He takes Cas's hand, brings his palm to his lips, and kisses it softly. 

“Strongly. I hated you for what happened to Gabriel. I hated you for running and being a coward." Cas confesses. Dean continues to hold his hand and give him the attention he deserves. "Then we met. Things changed.”

"Do you want to leave?" Dean asks quietly. Castiel leans into his space, releasing his hand to bring it to Dean's face to accompany the other. Castiel is gentle and pulls him in so close Dean could kiss him if he leaned in just a little further. 

"Haven't you been listening? I want to stay."

Dean wants to look away, but he doesn’t. Instead, he stares right into Castiel’s eyes, daring him to look away first. Cas’s hands drop between them, and he looks down at Dean’s lips. 

"You can stay for as long as you want," Dean says, licking his lips. He's painfully aware that this situation is wildly more intimate than usual. They had never discussed romantic intimacy, and Dean would never want to cross a line with Cas. He decides no matter how he feels, Cas has to take the lead where romance and sex are concerned. Dean's all in and would do anything Cas asked. 

Castiel's flick from Dean's lips to his eyes and back to his lips again, “Thank you, Dean.”

“You’re welcome,” Dean replies. 

“I’m sorry.”

“For?”

Castiel backs away slowly, and his expression changes to something resembling embarrassment. “I was one hundred percent going to kiss you, but I changed my mind.”

“You didn’t do anything that I'm not one hundred percent on board with and support,” Dean says. Cas lets out a small laugh, takes Dean’s hand, and kisses it. 

“I’m going to need time, Dean. You meant what you said the other night?”

“I meant it,” Dean says. He wouldn't just tell  anyone  he was in love with them. If Cas needs time, Dean will give it to him. He’d give Cas anything he wanted if it were within his power to give it.

Dean goes to bed that night with a smile and Cas in his arms. He feels good for once, and he’s not waiting for the other shoe to drop. He feels like this could work with Cas. He feels like he could stay instead of running. He feels his life here is worth fighting for, and he will do whatever it takes to keep it. 

Chapter Text

Dean wakes up just before sunrise, and Castiel is snoring softly next to him. Dean turns slightly to watch the rise and fall of Cas's chest. It's calming in a way that he won't ever be able to explain to another person. He carefully and slowly reaches out his hand and places it over Cas's heart. Steady and safe.

He wants to stay. 

Dean thinks the words over and over in his head. It's been weeks, and they still need to work out some things, but Cas wants to stay. No one has ever wanted to stay. Not really. Not when they learn the truth about his past and what he did. But this, whatever this was with Cas, feels different. These feelings are more significant than any fear he has ever felt. Dean realizes he also wants to stay. 

It should scare him to feel content. He should be running, but yet. 

Castiel stirs next to him, his blue eyes blinking open tiredly. Cas is definitely not awake yet. He takes Dean's hand off his chest, holds it in his hands, and pulls it around himself as he rolls over and faces away from Dean. Dean smiles and adjusts himself so that he's flush against Cas's back. Cas lets out a low, sleepy grunt, and Dean kisses his shoulder. 

They wake up a lot of mornings like this. Slowly. Waking in each other's arms in one way or another. Their legs usually tangled together. If they had been seen in the morning, one would be unable to tell where Dean starts, and Cas ends. It's not sexual. It's comfort. Dean hasn't been this close to another person in a long time and can't help but be slightly embarrassed about how his body reacts to Cas's touch. Like he's never been touched gently before. He finds himself trying to lean into it. Desperate.

He relaxes, closes his eyes, and drifts off to sleep again. 

__________

Dean wakes again a couple of hours later to an empty bed. If it wasn't for the smell of coffee in the air, he might panic, but Cas never goes too far. Not with Crowley being seen entering and leaving Gordon's a couple of times in the last few weeks. Somehow they hadn't found Dean's apartment, but he didn't allow that fact to let him actually feel safe. If Crowley or any of his minions show up, he will do what he has to do to protect what he has now. Even if the relationship with Cas is in its infancy. 

Dean goes through his morning routine and heads to the kitchen, where he knows a hot cup of coffee will be waiting for him. Cas is sitting at the table, head bowed, reading the paper he insisted Dean subscribe to. 

"Good morning, Dean," Cas says as Dean sits at the table, wrapping his hands around his mug of coffee. 

"Mornin'. Anything happening?" Dean nods at the paper and meets Castiel's eyes just over the top. 

"Nothing that would make me worry," Dean looks at him as the reality of what he'd just said smashes its way to the forefront of his mind. They were still not free to live as they saw fit. He would never find peace as long as Crowley lurked around. 

It was only a matter of time before he would have to go back to work. Bobby had been gracious about giving him time off to deal with the investigation, but that was only going to go so far with Christmas coming up fast. It was one of the worst times of the year.   

"That's good," Dean replies. Cas hums in agreement, and they sit silently for a while. The only sound is the cars passing on the street outside, and the newspaper shuffle as Cas scans the page, looking for anything out of place.

Dean used to hate the silence. The quiet always left too much room for thinking. But, these days, he's finding he appreciates it. He appreciates Cas not needing constant entertainment. He appreciates that while Cas says he is struggling with his feelings, he's consistent and continues to show up for Dean in ways that he didn't know he needed. He's also been staring at Cas for too long, but the way Cas blushes gives Dean butterflies.

It's not that Cas is so attractive that he can't stop looking… it's the way Cas is just…Cas. His eyes and how they squint at the slightest confusion. His small smile when he reads something that likely only he thinks is funny, his big gummy smile that Dean has only seen a handful of times and would do anything to see again. The scar on his right temple, his hands and how gentle they are with every single fucking thing he touches, his voice, and how rough it can sound in the morning. Everything. He'd say he's obsessed, but it's so much more than that.

"Dean?" Cas asks.

"Huh?" Dean blinks sleepily a few times and returns to Earth.

Cas chuckles. 

"I said I'd like to get lunch today and talk if you are up for that."

"Yeah. Yes. Absolutely." Dean replies and smiles. Cas returns to the paper in front of him, and Dean slips back into his mind.

These moments with Cas are ordinary, but they make Dean feel exhilarated and alive. Making plans, even for lunch, seems like such a blessing. He would take any amount of time that Castiel was willing to give him. He would do anything for Cas. He truly knows that now. 

Chapter Text

The two men head to The Roadhouse for lunch. The restaurant and bar are quickly becoming a favorite place. They sit in their usual booth, and Jo, the owner's daughter, brings them their favorite orders. Going out is risky, but they had both agreed that living in fear would never be an option. They are careful, and Dean knows what to look for, so he's constantly scanning their surroundings when they go out.

"You boys ever go anywhere else?" Jo asks in mock annoyance as she sets Dean's burger in front of him.

"Jo, why would we do a dumb thing like that? I'm pretty damn sure if your mom found out, she'd hang us by our toes." Dean says quickly and shoves a few fries in his mouth to be obnoxious.

"I don't know how you deal with him," She says to Cas gently and sets his plate in front of him.

"It's difficult." Cas deadpans, and Dean opens his mouth in shock.

"You two are terrible. Ganging up on me for no reason." He says, pointing at Jo and then Cas with a french fry. Jo snorts a laugh as she waves them off over her shoulder, and Cas smiles, reaching for the house-made barbeque sauce. Dean watches as Cas opens his chicken sandwich and covers it in so much sauce it's dripping down the sides of the bun and onto his plate.

"You really like that sauce, don't you?" Dean chuckles. Cas looks up like he'd forgotten Dean was there. A look of panic crosses his features for a second, and then it's gone. Dean doesn't mention it. Cas just smiles and then takes a huge bite, the sauce dripping everywhere. Dean tries to stop himself, he really does, but a bark of laughter bubbles up out of his mouth before he can think better of it and nearly chokes on his own lunch. Between small chuckles and deep breaths, Dean reaches out his hand full of napkins. Cas slightly tips his head to the side and squints in confusion.

"You got a little-" Dean says and gestures to his face. Castiel takes the napkins and gets himself cleaned up. They only take a break from their food to talk about other people in the bar or things they observe. Most conversations between them are surface-level. They don't get too deep into anything that might upset the other, not because it's unsafe to do so, but because some things need time. Dean gets it.

"I need to tell you something," Cas blurts after a long lull in the conversation.

The topic of Gabriel has yet to come up again, making Dean a bit nervous about what Cas will say. He knows that Castiel knows what he saw on paper, but there is so much he doesn't know. He hopes that Cas knows that Dean still thinks about Gabriel every day. He had been a real friend. Gabe had patched him up so many times that Dean had lost count.

"What's up?" Dean says. He tries to keep it casual.

"I never thought…I didn't-" Castiel looks right into Dean's eyes. Dean couldn't look away if he wanted. Cas can look at Dean and make him feel like jello and, simultaneously, like he's burning. Not in a bad way, but it is a slight surprise to Dean that Cas has that much power over him.

"After Gabriel got shot, I went to see him, and he told me what had happened. He said you were a good person and didn't deserve what life had given you. I thought he was just being nice."

"The file at the police station said you guys had a fight. Was it about me?"

"Yes. That night I told you about my brother being a civil rights lawyer; I was talking about Gabriel."

"He's a- fucking lawyer?" Dean asks in disbelief. "What the hell was he doing on C Street?"

"He was working on a case trying to put Alistair and Crowley away. They were trafficking young men from C Street across the border. They were throwing people away like they were nothing. At that time, I was working for a community outreach program and discovered what they were doing by accident."

"What the fuck?" Dean asks, furthering his disbelief. "You gotta know that I had nothing to do with that. I had no idea. I knew something else was happening, but I had no idea it was human trafficking. Jesus Christ."

Dean can't believe what he's hearing. There is no way he would have stayed as long as he did if he knew. At least, he hoped he wouldn't have. He was a different person back then.

"I had always thought you were playing my brother and left him on purpose. I didn't realize that he was trying to protect you. I begged him to turn you in, but I didn't actually know who you were. All I knew was that you were connected somehow." Cas looks down, ashamed. "Reading the truth about what happened that night and knowing what I know from my own file was difficult."

"Oh my God, Cas. You stayed in my house, in my bed, and thought I could support human trafficking?" Dean feels sick to his stomach.

"No! That's what I'm saying. Even when I found out who you were, I knew there was no way you were part of that. I was forced to realize that Gabriel was telling the truth."

"Cas, what the fuck? You brought me to lunch to talk about this? Why couldn't we have done this at home?" Dean whispers roughly.

"I thought it would help to get you food and then tell you," Cas says seriously. He almost wants to laugh because Cas isn't exactly wrong. Of course, food would help in most situations, but this isn't an out-to-lunch conversation; this is at home in a private conversation.

"Cas, what the hell, man?" Dean asks. Castiel doesn't look up; his eyes stay on his half-eaten chicken sandwich. He continues to speak.

"The other thing I need to tell you is that I'm likely the reason that Crowley and Alistair returned to town. They thought that when they shot Gabriel that he was killed. He wasn't. They knew he had a brother helping him but didn't know what I looked like. I spoke to Alistair for weeks before Crowley showed up. I knew who they were, but they didn't know who I was."

"Then shit went down with Charlie, and you left to the woods to keep the kids safe," Dean says. His brain is slowly putting all the pieces together. It's becoming more apparent that he and Cas had indeed met by accident. There was no way that anyone could have predicted them both showing up in the same place within months of each other.

"Yes," Castiel confirms. "They obviously know what I look like now, and that's why they returned. Your being here was a bonus. Crowley doesn't care what happens to Alistair. He's been trying to get into a position of power for a long time."

"How do you know all this?"

"Have you heard of Morningstar Rising?"

"Yeah, the tech company. They do home surveillance."

"The CEO is Luc Morningstar. Short for Lucifer. My older brother. Crowley used to be his right-hand man until Alistair came along. My brother was into some bad shit and ended up in prison. Crowley sold him out. I remember that they were coming after anyone associated with Roman Enterprises. Including you, Sam, and your father. "

Dean doesn't know what to say. He's stuck. His brain is trying to process everything he has just heard, but he's frozen in place.

"Dean…"

"Give me a minute, Cas," Dean says and stands. "I'll be right back."

Dean turns and makes his way to the men's room. He makes it over to the sink, turns the cold on full blast, and splashes his face a few times. Then, he closes his eyes and forces himself to take deep breaths. The overload of information was making his head hurt. He knew that Roman Enterprises wasn't into many legal operations but the human trafficking of young men? It could have been him who was shipped off to who knows where never to see Sammy or his dad again.

'Including you, Sam, and your dad' rings in his head over and over. No one in his life was safe with Crowley still out there. It would take very little to find Sam or his dad, so why hadn't they gone after them yet?

Dean pulls out his phone and texts Sam to call him as soon as possible. He guesses that Sam already knows about everything, and that's likely the information he had on Castiel. Sam and his dad are together right now, giving him a little peace. Although sick, their dad could take care of business if needed, and Sam is highly skilled in all things knife.

He looks at himself in the mirror and sees Cas standing behind him. They look at each other for a long moment. Cas looks as shitty as Dean feels. He understands why Cas had taken so long to speak to him. This was discussed with facts and time to consider all the details. He feels dumb for thinking Cas wasn't talking to him because of his feelings.

"Now you see why I was so conflicted. Your family is everything to you. I had to make sure I could trust you with this, Dean. Then, I had to ensure that what I felt was real. You told me you were in love with me. I could have said it back, and it would have been as true then as it is now."

Dean turns and faces Castiel. The blue-eyed man stands lamely in front of the bathroom door staring at Dean. Castiel takes a couple careful steps toward Dean. "I love you, Dean, and I'm asking for your help to put Crowley away."

"Fuck," Dean says and turns back to the sink. He turns off the water and looks at Cas in the mirror's reflection. He doesn't know if he wants to be dragged back into this part of his life. But Cas needs him and is asking for help. He has to help. Dean's about to respond when the rest of what Castiel said slaps him across the face.

"You love me?" Dean asks, quickly whipping around to face Cas again.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to realize what I said," Cas says dryly but smiles at Dean. Cas closes the space between them and takes Dean's face into his hands. Dean's hands come up to rest on Cas's wrists. Cas's eyes go back and forth between Dean's lips and eyes. "I'm gonna kiss you now," Cas says, and Dean nods his permission.

Chapter Text

Dean had been scanning the parking lot for a second time when the return call from Sam came.

"He told you,"  Sam says matter of factly. Dean looks up at Cas, who looks guilty. 

"Yeah. How did  you  know?"

"The Luc Morningstar case was the first big case I worked on. Plus, I'm good at my job."  Sam says. Dean tries to laugh because, of course. He can't believe everything in his current life is so entangled and connected to his past. He's tried so hard to escape, but he's being forced to play a part in a game no one wants to play. No matter how much he thought he was in control, he wasn't. The reality of what's likely to come hits him like a ton of bricks.  

"I thought I got away from this shit," Dean admits. Cas is at his side with a hand on his shoulder in moments. Squeezing gently to comfort him. 

"I've learned Crowley is very persuasive."  Sam spits as if he knows Crowley the way Dean does. Dean ignores that thought quickly because the idea of Crowley being anywhere near Sam makes his head spin. Part of him wants to ask, but he decides against it for now. 

"I don't understand why he hasn't taken what he wants."

"Best guess? Crowley is setting you up to take the fall for something."  Sam says carefully. Dean tries to think back to when he was working with Crowley. There was no way that Dean could have known what was going on. 

"I was barely old enough to drive, let alone know anything about human trafficking!"

"There is no way  that  would stick. I can promise you that. So it has to be something else. But, listen, Dean," Sam starts. He knows Sam is about to suggest something idiotic, "I talked with Jody, and she agrees that you and Cas should return to Kansas for a while."

"You want me to bring Cas back to Kansas? So that they find him and what? Kill him? I'm not risking that! So dad can be a dick? Hell no!" Dean nearly shouts. 

"You don't have to stay at dads place. I think you  know  where you two should stay." The weight of what Sam says slams Dean in the stomach, and he feels like he's going to throw up. He doesn't think he's ready for that.

"You can't be serious!" Dean gasps, looking up at Cas, who can't seem to meet his eyes. "No-fucking-way, Sam!"

"Dean-" Cas starts, and Dean glares at him. The realization of what's happening falls over him like an ice-cold bucket of water. 

"How long have you two been planning this?" He asks, standing to face Castiel. He takes the phone away from his ear and sets it on the coffee table in front of him, activating the speaker option. 

"It's not what you think," Castiel says and sits on the couch, hands folded in his lap. Dean knows he's trying to be non-threatening. It's working, but only a little.

"Isn't it? You two made some plan without me!" Dean yells towards the phone. He hears Sam sigh loudly, no doubt rolling his eyes.  

"For fucks sake, chill out. You are one of the most stubborn sonofabitches I know, and you would have never listened to a damn word anyone had to say if Cas had just said you guys had to come back to Kansas. We have to stay together, Dean. It's not safe to have us spread out all across the US. I didn't leave dad's after the holiday, and we didn't make a damn plan because I thought we'd do that when you get here."  

Sam's right. What he's saying makes sense. He should go to Kansas. 

But it feels too risky. 

"What if something else happens to Gabriel?"

"It's a risk he's willing to take. Fortunately,  you  don't get to decide for him."

"Cas, are you sure?" Dean pleads. He looks at Cas again. It's clear his mind has already been made, and Dean knows he's lost this battle. But, he has to admit it does make sense for them to stay together, and at this point, he would follow Cas into Hell if asked. 

"To protect  you ?" Cas asks gently, "Yes."

"Is  he  sure?" Dean's voice shakes as he struggles to get the question out. The thought of seeing Gabriel after so long makes his chest hurt. 

"He's sure," Cas says and gives a final nod. Dean rubs his hands down his face and rubs at his eyes. His brain screams at him not to accept what's being offered. 

"Goddamnit." 

"I wish I could see this working another way, but I don't. So, we have to." 

"Yeah, I hear you." Dean looks up at Cas as if to plead with him to develop another plan. The last fight left in him about the situation leaves as he admits that he must return to the one place he swore he would never go. 

He ends the call with Sam and sits and stares at the wall for longer than he intends. His brain is thinking so many thoughts simultaneously he can't move. He can see Cas sitting beside him from the corner of his eye and feel gentle touches across his back and shoulders. The weight of Castiel at his side should ground him, but instead, he's left feeling like he's drowning in his thoughts with no fight left to get to the surface. 

Dean has no idea how much time has passed when he becomes aware of his surroundings. He looks down distractedly at Cas's hand in his. He realizes he's gripping it so tightly that Cas's fingers must hurt. Dean's eyes snap to his face, and he loosens his grip. Cas doesn't look like he's in any pain. 

Cas meets his gaze and kisses Dean's hand, bringing it to his cheek. Castiel's stubble gently scratches his skin, pulling him further into the moment and out of his head. His eyes close as he leans back on the couch. He's exhausted. 

Dean is mildly aware of being led to the bedroom. Castiel helps him get undressed and into bed. Castiel joins him a few moments later and curls around Dean in a way that makes Dean feel like a child. He feels safe and protected, but there is something else there too.

Fear.  So much fear. 

Fear that what he feels for and about Cas is wrong and that he shouldn't be feeling like this. Fear of his father's disapproval of wanting to love another man. Fear that more people will get hurt. Fear they won't be able to find their way out of this. Fear that he will fail at protecting what he has now. Fear of regressing to who he was. 

"You still seem overwhelmed," Cas says gently. 

"Yeah, no shit," Dean says and lets out a hollow laugh. He feels embarrassed that Cas sees him so vulnerable and exposed because it's  weak  to fall apart like this. At least, that's what he was forced to believe since childhood. Cas tightens his hold on Dean that much more. 

"You've been through a lot," Cas states softly, pressing a delicate kiss to Dean's forehead. Dean tries to remember the last time someone treated him like this. 

A memory from when he was four springs to mind. His mother had just served him lunch and leaned close to kiss him on his forehead. He remembers the smell of her perfume. It was light and sweet, maybe vanilla or something. He remembers feeling safe with her, much like he feels now.

It's slightly disarming. 

Castiel is safe. Makes him  feel  safe. Comforted in a way that he doesn't think he's ever felt. A pang of guilt makes his chest tighten. Cas doesn't deserve the old version of Dean. The version that doesn't talk about feelings or admit wrongdoing. 

"I shouldn't have said it like that," Dean realizes. 

"I didn't take it personally."

"Yeah, but that doesn't give me the right to be an asshole, Cas." Cas hums in acknowledgment but doesn't say anything more. "Aren't you scared?"

Castiel shifts slightly. He can barely make out Cas's features in the somewhat lit room, but Dean could sense Castiel's gaze on him. 

"No," Cas says simply. 

Dean doesn't know what to do with that. How could he not be scared? Not only was Crowley looking for Cas, but his family, no doubt. He doesn't have enough information on Castiel's family to know if that will be an issue, but they can cross that bridge when they get to it. They lay together silently while Dean's brain starts to calm and his thoughts become more solid and rational. 

There's still one more thing that Dean's worried about. One thing he doesn't know if he can talk about, but Cas deserves to know that Dean might change, that he might become someone else right in front of Cas's eyes. That's not who Dean is anymore; he knows he can't change the past. What happened, happened.

But...

"I  will  do whatever I have to do to end this," Dean admits into the darkness, grimly. 

"I know," Cas replies softly. 

"I'm different now," Dean continues, his heart beating so hard that he suspects Cas can feel it. "though I want you to know that even if sometimes I have to...turn it off, it's still me."

Dean's never talked so plainly about his humanity or lack thereof, but Cas deserves the honesty. Back then, it was like a switch. He would turn his emotions off to get things done. It wasn't like he wasn't aware of what he was doing. He just forced himself not to care. He hurt people, and though he could compartmentalize, the effects of his actions have stayed with him over the years. 

"I  understand ." 

Dean stares into the darkness where he knows Cas's face is. 

"You... understand? " Dean asks carefully. 

"I understand that sometimes difficult things happen, and I know that that causes difficult decisions to be made, and I can appreciate the skill to be able to do that." Cas's hand finds the side of Dean's face, and he holds it gently in his hand. Dean sighs, and he leans into it. "I want to remind you that you aren't alone this time. You have me. And Sam. And I hate even to bring him up, your father...And Gabriel."

The realization that Castiel is willing to accept the parts of him that he can not causes an intense burst of emotion in his chest, relief being the most overwhelming.  

If Dean has anything to give Castiel, it  has  to be all of him. 

"I love you," Dean whispers. He leans in and places a soft kiss on Cas's lips. 

"I love you too."

They fall silent, their words hanging in the air, but the lack of sound isn't uncomfortable. It's calming when Cas is near. He does his best to focus on the arms around him and closes his eyes, but the reality of the situation still weighs on him. 

"We have to go back," Dean finally sighs. "Fuck, Cas, I really don't want to. What if it just gets worse?" Dean doesn't expect a response; he knows Cas has no answers for him tonight. The last coherent thought that trickles through Dean's rapidly shutting down brain is  thank fuck I still have vacation time.

Chapter Text

Dean hates flying, and the airport is a fucking nightmare. Each step through the terminal feels like he's wading through thick fog. He can't stop scanning people's faces, his heart racing with every glance. Most people haven't noticed him, but a few have glared back, their looks sharp and accusatory, and he feels a flush of shame rush to his cheeks. He can't help but fixate on them, the eye contact stretching far too long, fueling his unease.

It feels like they've been standing in line for hours, the lines twisting and winding, each second dragging on longer than the last. The hum of conversation around him morphs into an overbearing buzz, drowning out his thoughts. The bright overhead lights feel too harsh, illuminating a space that is suddenly too crowded, chaotic, and far too real. Anxiety tightens around his chest like a vise, and it takes everything left in the last coherent part of his panicked brain to reach out and grab at Castiel, desperate for a tether, for reassurance in the turmoil that threatens to swallow him whole. Breathe, he tells himself, but each inhale starts to feel shallow, as if the air itself is being withheld.

"Dean, if you don't stop pushing me into the people in front of us, they might have to take us to dinner," Castiel says gently yet firmly. Dean's mind slows, and he focuses on the blue ones before him. He looks over Castiel's shoulder and notices a couple looking at him with shy, gentle smiles. Embarrassed, Dean ducks his head and mumbles an apology before stepping back.

Dean doesn't understand how Castiel can remain so calm. There are so many things that could go wrong. There are too many unknowns; if he's honest, he's a little worried about what will happen. He will likely have to confront his father—a man who has tried to kill him—and Gabriel, the man he almost got killed.

"What if... what..." Dean stammers, struggling to gather his thoughts. They need to go to Kansas, but he dislikes the idea of being confined for hours in a metal tube soaring through the sky at thousands of feet, propelled by a mix of hopes, dreams, and jet fuel.

"Tell me about your car," Cas suddenly asks in the same gentle tone.

"Uh," Dean's train of thought derailed. "She's… she's everything to me. " He took a breath and continued, "I know she's just a car, but she's the only home I've ever really had, you know? It didn't matter where I was; I didn't have to worry as long as I had the car. I've probably slept in the backseat more than in a real bed. " Dean laughs.

Castiel's expression softens as he asks, "Are you scared to fly? " Dean feels his face heat up at the idea of being noticed and nods in response. Castiel studies him for a moment longer before changing the subject back to the car as they walk together.

Eventually, they reach the end of security and arrive at their gate. Dean sits quietly in one of the available chairs, with a mother and her child occupying one side of him while two empty chairs sit on either side. Castiel has the option to sit, but he chooses to stand instead. He stands awkwardly in front of Dean, blocking his view of anyone around them. Castiel is trying to make Dean feel more at ease, which is working somewhat.

An overhead announcement that boarding will begin soon causes Dean's anxiety to spike, overwhelming him with a feeling that they are flying back to Kansas and heading into a trap.

What kind of plan can they devise to take on a man with resources they can't imagine? What chance do they have against someone who could track Castiel down so easily despite him taking every precaution? Will his dad be a dick the whole time? Will he be able to keep them all safe? How much does Sam know now? Does Gabriel forgive him?

"Dean, " Castiel says softly as he kneels, bringing their foreheads together. Dean suddenly realizes how tightly he is gripping the lapel of Castiel's ugly tan trench coat. The intensity of this awareness is overwhelming. He must have been speaking out loud, as his fingers are now numb, his knuckles are white, and his breath is ragged and gasping.

Castiel wraps his hand around Dean's, and Dean holds on until he feels his breathing steady, his shoulders relax, and he regains feeling in his arms and legs. Castiel sits down beside him and gently squeezes his hand.

In the last hour before the flight, Dean scrolls on Reddit while Castiel reads a book about bird migration patterns. The internet didn't hold Dean's attention for long. He looked down the way, and the same mom and kid were sitting there. The mom looked up and gave him a small smile, likely noticing his slight panic attack before. He gives her a curt nod, and she returns to her kid.

Across the aisle and a few seats down, there's a man with a jar of honey who wasn't there before. The man's intense gaze holds Dean's attention longer than is socially acceptable for a stranger. Something about him seems familiar, but Dean can't quite place why. The man lifts the honey jar to eye level, tips it upside down, and watches as the honey flows to the opposite side. He looks from the jar to Dean's eyes, winks, and then looks away as if their strange encounter never happened.

"Weirdo, " Dean mutters. Castiel looks up from the book in his hands, confused. "That guy at 3 o'clock. "

"I don't see anyone, " Cas replies.

Dean looks up, prepared to point out the man, but Cas is right—there's no one there. He glances at the mother and child sitting to his left, wanting to confirm that he isn't hallucinating everyone in the room. They are together, completely oblivious to Dean. He turns back to where the man was sitting, feeling unsettled but mostly resigned to his plan to fly.

"Never mind, " Dean mutters, glancing around once more.

___________________________________________________________________

The flight isn't the worst experience Dean has ever had, but he still prefers driving. The baggage claim area is crowded, so he stays close to the exit to keep an eye out while Castiel retrieves their bags. Dean scans the crowd; most people look bored or exhausted. Traveling during the holidays was the worst decision they could have made. With Jody's approval, a long and somewhat painful conversation about why they couldn't just drive the Impala, and the promise of daily photo messages from Bobby of the car, Dean booked two tickets for an open-ended flight to Kansas.

Dean's gaze lands on the man from earlier, and the direct eye contact feels intentional rather than coincidental. This guy is fully staring Dean down, making it clear that he wants him to know he's being watched. But why? Who is he?

"Dean? " Cas asks as he approaches Dean with their bags. Dean's eyes leave the strange man for a moment to acknowledge Cas, but when he looks back, the man has vanished.

"The weirdo from before was staring at me again. He's gone now, but he looked at me like he knew me. He had a jar of honey—the kind with the beeswax paper you get from the farmer's market. I only recognize it because Sam loved that stuff when he was a kid."

Cas's head whipped back and forth, scanning the bustling crowd with a mix of urgency and anxiety. His dark eyes widened as he finally locked onto Dean, a silent plea for understanding etched across his face. Without uttering a single word, he grasped Dean's arm firmly and pulled him through the airport's sliding glass doors. As they stepped into the biting cold of the Kansas winter air, the frigid breeze seemed to amplify the tension between them, the chill wrapping around them like a cloak.

"Do you know who that was? " Dean asks, his voice tense, as he is pulled toward a vacant taxi cab on the busy street. The driver, who had been chatting with another driver a few feet away, quickly approaches and opens the trunk and back door.

" Thank you, " Castiel says gruffly to the driver, shoving a wad of cash at his chest. Castiel pushes Dean into the backseat of the yellow car, places the bags into the trunk, and enters the vehicle from the opposite side. He quickly rattles off an address that Dean doesn't recognize to the waiting driver, and they drive away.

Dean gazes at Cas for a long moment, reflecting on every instance of their brief time together. Despite the complexities, he wouldn't change a thing. The man before him grounds him with soft looks and gentle touches. Dean wants this relationship; he trusts Cas completely.

"Who was that, Cas? " Dean asks, knowing he won't like the answer. Given what he knows about Cas's family and past, he's sure it's not someone friendly.

The cool, calm mask Castiel wears falls, revealing something Dean didn't expect.

Fear.  

Something shifts within Dean, releasing long-buried anger and fury that trickles down his spine in a slow, hot flood. He thinks he should be freaking out, but he's not.

"That man, " Castiel begins, pulling back just enough to look Dean in the eye, willing him to understand. "He works for my family; he used to. His name is Cain. My family betrayed him."

"Is he trying to find you? " Dean asked, surprised by the strength in his own voice. A few hours ago, he had been a mess, but now he was ready to confront anyone who dared to make Castiel uncomfortable or fearful.

"I don't know. He worked with Gabriel. He and I were friendly, but neither Gabriel nor I, for that matter, would ever have been part of what my family did to him. " Castiel glanced at the car's driver and then back at Dean, perhaps sensing the change. He had warned him about this. Dean took Cas's hand and kissed its back. Cas nodded and sat beside him silently, gripping his hand so tightly that Dean's hand would probably be sore afterward. He didn't mind. He welcomed the ache as a reminder that, at this moment, they were okay and together.

"Welcome to Kansas," Dean says flatly.