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He didn’t want to let Nora down, but it was time to move on again. Cas found out it was customary to give some notice before you up and disappear from a job; completing two more weeks at the Rexford Gas’n’Sip. Besides, it gave him more money and time to better plan out just what it was he was going to do. Saving people, hunting things. His family’s business… he could do it, even if he wasn’t with them. He hadn’t thought much about that night with Dean; folded it up like immaculate origami and filed it in the back of his mind. Dean had refused him, it was time to move on. He would rejoin the battle and stop this war for Heaven. Was it not his obligation? Was this not his fault? If it hadn’t been for his foolish actions, the Angels never would have fallen.
First and foremost, he would need money. He’d saved a lot from his pay checks at the Gas’n’Sip by living meagre, but it wasn’t going to be enough for the long run. He would need to get to a bigger city that might have a shop run by a Hunter. He figured his best bet was to see if he could somehow acquire a fraudulent credit card like Sam and Dean used. Where better to try than other Hunters? Even if they didn’t have one, maybe they could at least help him figure out how he could get one. Then there was the issue of transportation… he was so tired of buses. It was uncomfortable, too public and slow. He had no idea how Dean hotwired cars and despite trying to learn on the internet, he didn’t feel like he would be successful. After his shift on his last day of work, he found his solution, idling and vacant outside the local post office. Sparkling golden in the evening sun like a sunflower… a 1978 Lincoln Continental Mark V.
Looking around him, he didn’t see anyone on the street… he went up to the driver side door and opened it quietly. Slinging his bag across to the passenger seat, he sat down at the wheel. Dean wouldn’t let him drive the Impala, but he’d seen him do it enough times… it couldn’t be too difficult. He put his foot on the left pedal and pulled down on the column shifter until it pointed to ‘R’. As he released the brake, the car began to roll backward. Momentarily stunned, he tried not to panic, but he slammed his foot back down anyway, jerking to a stop. At least now there was enough room to travel forward. He cracked the lever into ‘D’ and released the brake again. Pressing the right pedal, the car jolted forward, causing him to lift his foot in surprise and begin coasting. Managing short bursts, he rocked the car out of the lot and to the edge of road. In the rear view mirror, he saw someone come out of the shops and begin to chase after him. After checking the road was clear, Cas pulled out and floored it down the straightaway.
He drove south until he’d left Idaho behind him. After a couple hours, he started to get the hang of it; driving was actually enjoyable. It was much easier on the open road and gave him a glimmer of the freedom he once knew at his wings. When he was well into Utah, he pulled off at a rest stop and slept several hours in the car, realising he’d somewhat solved for two problems in one. After a light breakfast, he continued south and rolled into Salt Lake City on fumes in the morning.
It was thankfully faster to find a shop with the right sigils and symbols painted outside when he could drive around looking for them himself. He did his best to park the large Lincoln into an angled space at a strip mall and cut the engine. He saw someone coming out of the tobacco shop and waited until they had gone out of sight before exiting the car. The inside of the shop had a strong but pleasant odour he couldn’t quite place. Someone stood at the counter with their back to him, so he spoke up.
“Hello, I—” When she turned around, he was momentarily stunned. Her black curls bounced happily and her dark eyes sparkled. She took his breath away.
“What can I do for ya?” she asked cheerfully, leaning against the counter top, palms flat and elbows locked.
“I-I need some help.” he fumbled. “Some special help.”
“Look honey, you’re handsome, but we don’t offer those kind of services here…” Her laugh was like bells.
“No.” Cas felt an unfamiliar flush in his cheeks. “I mean, I’m a Hunter.” He tried to compose himself. “A new Hunter. I need money. Do you have the fraudulent cards?”
“Well then, just come right out with it.” She laughed again.
“You see, the Winchesters, they use plastic cards to—”
“Did you say Winchester?” She straightened up and appraised him top to bottom. “I might be able to help ya out…” A sly smile painted her face. “Mmm… What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t… I—” He shifted his feet. “Steve. My name is Steve.”
“Steve.” She raised an eyebrow. “Mm hmm.”
“Yes.”
“Well, Steve, let me see what I can do.” She turned away from him again. At the back counter, she opened a couple different drawers and shuffled through various items. Finally she found what she sought on a shelf instead. “Look,” she said, turning back to him and placing a dusty, crumbling box on the counter top, “I normally keep these for emergencies... for friends, but I’ll make a special exception for you.”
Cas relaxed a little, this was working out better than he thought. “Thank you.”
She handed him a credit card. “If you see Dean, tell him Jeni says hey.” she replied with a wink.
The comment slapped him across the face. He wasn’t sure he even replied before leaving. In the car, he released his breath in a whoosh, then folded the thought back up and tucked it away. As he started the engine he decided it was finally time to tune back in; he flipped the switch and turned on Angel Radio. He was disappointed to find it quiet, though he supposed that made sense in a war. The Angels wouldn’t want to broadcast all their locations and plans to each other. He would have to do this the human way. First things first.
Cas pulled the Lincoln into a shopping mall car park then went inside, looking for a suit shop. The clerk was more than helpful to get him into a nice, black suit. It was slightly odd how familiar it felt to him… as if he was himself again. The slacks looked sharp, the buttons on his shirt were a strange comfort and as he pulled on the jacket, he thought he might be an Angel again. He grabbed a second suit in navy and some essentials like a tie, socks and extra dress shirts. He replaced 'Steve’s' sneakers with a nice pair of boots. On a rack by the door, he saw a beige trench coat. It wasn’t the same as his previous one, but it would do. He left the store feeling weirdly more confident. Unfortunately, it didn’t last... After putting the clothing in the trunk, he got in to leave and the car wouldn’t start.
Cas folded his arms on the steering wheel and put his head down on them, momentarily defeated. He was sure there was something he was overlooking, the car was fine just before… Then he remembered all the times the boys stopped in the Impala for gas. He would have to try to remember to check that. Slightly dejected, he got back out of the car and walked to the nearby petrol station. The clerk looked at him like he was from another planet, but sold him a jerry can and pointed him to the right petrol, after explaining how to fill the can. Mission complete, he walked it dejectedly back to the waiting Lincoln. After finally figuring out how to open the fuel door and filling the tank, he tossed the jerry can into the trunk in case he needed it again. He drove the short distance back to the station and thanking the clerk once more, filled the tank properly. It was beginning to get late, so after picking up some dinner, he booked into a motel for the night.
***
The next few days were quiet and he found no new leads. He stayed around Salt Lake anyway, just to have the city at his disposal. After nearly a week, he picked up a short message over Angel radio. Someone was in distress and tried to ask for help. He hopped in the car and drove to the location, arriving at mid-afternoon... but there was no one there. It was a rest area just off the freeway, not much around but a toilet block and some picnic tables. He parked anyway, just to have a look around. After a quick survey of the immediate area, he went around behind the toilets, into the woods and it was only a short walk until he found them… what was left of them.
On the ground among the trees was a corpse, with heavy charring all around it in the shape of massive, mangled wings. An Angel death. He was too late. With a sigh, he continued to look around a bit longer, making sure there wasn’t anyone else. A short while later, he confirmed it was just the one Angel, and it seemed whoever had done this was long gone. His only lead ended here. On that note, he returned to the Lincoln and drove back into Salt Lake, frustrated.
Later that night, he decided to go to the bar across the road from his motel. The last week had felt a bit isolating and he found he missed the bustle of the Gas'n'Sip, Nora's companionship and that one time that Dean… Putting deep creases in the thought, he went inside, sat at the bar and waited for the bartender to come over.
“What can I get you?”
Cas looked up. The bartender was maybe in his early thirties with a tattoo sleeve up each arm, shaggy blonde hair and the type of blue eyes that changed colour in different light. Right now they were almost grey. What was it that Dean always had? “Whiskey, neat.”
“Sure thing.” The bartender grabbed a small glass, popping it down in front of Cas. Then he filled it quite generously.
Cas picked it up and downed it in one go—then just about choked. Alcohol as a human was very different than as an Angel. It was robust, practically burned his throat and the flavour… well, he just wasn’t sure yet. The bartender had seen him from down the way and gave a bit of a chuckle. He came back over and collected the glass, holding it out toward Cas.
“Another?” he asked with a sweet smile. Cas just shook his head. “You’re not much of a drinker, are you?”
“No.” Cas coughed.
“Then what are you doing here?”
“I-I’m not really sure. Just seemed like…” Cas sighed. What Dean would do...
The man leaned against the bar, propped on his forearms. “Got things on your mind eh?” Cas just stared at him blankly. “That’s what a lot of people come to the bar for. Get your mind off it.”
A revelation dawned on Cas. Oh.
“Maybe you could try billiards instead?” the bartender offered. Cas looked over at the tables... he didn’t think so. The bartender gave him a soft smile. “You just need to find your drink.” he resigned. Turning away for a moment, he pulled together a gin and tonic, then passed it to Cas. “Here.”
Cas took a cautious sip. “It’s… better.” The bartender gave him another chuckle.
Cas nursed the drink for a long while and watched the people in the bar go about their business. The bartender occasionally came back to check on his progress and chat. Cas found out his name was Matt, he’d worked there the last five years and his shift would finish in about 45 minutes… Cas wasn’t entirely sure why that last bit of information was pertinent, but he found he liked Matt and was feeling considerably more comfortable. Whatever had been on his mind when he came here, was long gone. When his shift finished and the bar was otherwise empty, Matt came and sat next to him. They chatted for a little while, then Matt finished cleaning up to close the bar. Cas felt a hand on his shoulder and turned.
“Time to go, I gotta lock up.” When he met Matt's eyes, Cas thought he looked a little disappointed.
Cas stood up and it closed all distance between them. He stared into Matt’s eyes for a moment, then down at his lips. Neither of them moved as the air warmed a few degrees. Cas licked his lips... Matt was already so close, if he just—They moved together, in a natural sequence and suddenly Cas could feel rough lips, hot breath, smooth tongue… his hands ran across the other man’s coarse stubble, around his neck and into his hair. In a hot second, Cas found himself pressed up against the bar, his tongue mingling, slick and wet with the other man’s. Matt’s hands caressed every inch of his shoulders, then down his back and finally gripped his ass as they kissed. Matt came up for air.
“Do you wanna—?” he started kissing Cas’ neck before he finished.
“M-motel…” Cas gasped. “Room… across the road…” he managed between breaths.
A few awkward paces, a smack on the ass and Cas was outside while Matt locked the door. As soon as he finished, Cas pressed him up against it and kissed him all over again. They staggered across the street and Cas fumbled with the key to his room. He practically fell inside, removing his suit jacket as he turned back to Matt. In unison they both kicked off their shoes. Matt pulled off his t-shirt as Cas undid his own shirt buttons. Then Matt was there, touching him... kissing him… Cas stumbled back and onto the queen bed. The other man's mouth tracked down Cas' chest, his breath hot on Cas’ skin, his tongue leaving a slick trail of spit, as Matt went to his knees before him. Fingertips traced Cas' side, across the tattoo on his ribs and down past his belly button. Cas could only gasp for breath in anticipation of what could come next. Matt had reached the edge of his pants and flicking open the button, he released Cas' dick from the confines. The man’s hand on his shaft ran electric with each pump of his fist, and Cas moaned as he watched the man lick away the glossy pre-come from his slit. Cas fell back onto his elbows the moment his hard cock went into the other man’s mouth. The wet, hot, licking—sucking—there was nothing else. He let the sensation consume him. Slowly, the intricate origami in his mind began to unfold… he couldn’t stop it from intruding.
Dean.
A white hot ache began to build in his groin, then spread out to every corner of his body. His hard cock throbbed with desire. A want, a need for a release… until a feeling similar to coalescing his Grace before an attack built up inside him. When he thought a blight of energy would burst forth, he instead came hard in the other man’s mouth. Shuddering and spent, he fell back and laid on the bed, breathless. Matt came up next to him, kissing the tattoo on his ribs on the way and gave him a smirk. Cas rolled over, straddled Matt and kissed him again. Sitting back, Cas ran his hands across the other man’s broad shoulders, then leaned in and put his mouth on his neck, sucking the soft skin. He kissed down his chest, licking his nipple; covering the other man’s body with his tongue as he clawed to open the fly of his jeans. Cas’ mind was half somewhere else as he unfolded the whole thing again in reverse...
***
The next morning, he'd declined breakfast. Matt insisted on leaving him with his phone number and one last kiss. Cas had to get out of Salt Lake. Later that day, he'd filled the tank in the Lincoln and drove away, leaving it all behind him. At the petrol station, he’d caught an interesting headline on the daily newspaper. North of the place he’d found the Angel kill, there was another report of two murdered — eyes burnt out. Definitely a new lead. Using the guise of an F.B.I. agent, he’d learned there was a slew of murders happening in this corridor of Utah and Wyoming. He decided to keep heading north. He stayed several days in a small town in southern Wyoming, waiting for another break. At night he became a bit of a regular at the local roadhouse, nursing a gin and tonic to pass the time. A few nights in, he hooked up with a cute brunette woman that had been chatting him up. Then it was time to move on again.
He continued north and after a couple more days, found a new lead; an entire biker gang slaughtered. That wasn’t going to be hidden from the main news outlets. What he didn’t expect, was to see Sam and Dean, walking up to him in that roadhouse. The amount of joy he’d felt at seeing Dean again was nearly revolting. Within Dean’s first few words, he’d been rejected all over again, so with feigned optimism, he’d focused on the case. Of course, he couldn’t say no when Sam invited him to join them at the bar that night. He couldn’t contain his happiness; having beers at the bar—with his best friends—finally, how it should be. But he’d left before Sam came back from the Impala, pushed away by Dean, yet again.
If there was one thing he’d learned as a human; what goes up, must come down. The next night, he found himself at rock bottom. In desperation, he’d spent the day praying for help. Yet another mistake. Muriel had meant him no harm, but he’d inadvertently lead more Angels to his location. Now, hanging from chains in the clutches of Malachi and his followers, he thought it might be over. They’d already killed Muriel and despite the torture, he had nothing to offer. It was only a matter of time. Until… poor, stupid Theo.
He had to admit to himself, he wasn’t equipped to handle this as a human. He wasn’t Sam; wasn’t Dean. Theo provided a unique opportunity. Cas resolved and slashed the Angel Blade across Theo’s throat without hesitation. Theo’s Grace slammed him like a freight train; he almost collapsed under its power. It had been so long and not long at all. Like an atom bomb, the massive energy built up inside him, stretching to all the corners of his vessel. His skin burst with searing light, illuminating his veins like a road map and his eyes shone like glacial ice. Then, the world went quiet. The Grace inside him felt like coming home. All the pain, the grief, longing, lust, the anger... the fear… became cloaked in the veil of Grace. Manageable again, tolerable once more. The Grace whispered to him, beckoning his obedience. An Angel was what he was meant to be. Cracked perhaps, broken… fallen—but an Angel was he. He extended his hand and smote Theo with no more than a thought.