The Reset Button

DEAN 

”Dean Winchester.”

Among the chaos, the burning buildings, and the charred corpses littering the ground, a single voice prevailed. 

Dean stood heaving for air, shotgun hanging limply at his side, and Castiel standing at his other. Sam was gone. His little brother was fucking gone, and it was all his goddam fault. Lucifer had walked off with his meat suit just moments after blowing up the whole fucking town and everyone in it. Dean gagged as the smell of burning flesh met his nose.

“Who are you!” He spat, raising his gun once more. His arm shook, his shoulder being injured. Actually, fuck that. His shoulder was mutilated. The skin was shredded, bleeding, and the bone was dislocated. He could barely feel it at all.

A powerful light shone in front of him, causing him to shield his eyes so he wouldn’t get blinded. He could feel Castiel shift next to him, a nervous, protective movement, ready to smite whatever dared come their way. This couldn’t be it; this couldn’t be the end.

Dean withdrew his arm once the heat stopped searing his face, none other than Chuck Shurley standing in front of him. He had a small, timid smile on his face, his eyes sad, disappointed even.

“No,” gasped Cas, his hand tightening around his angel blade. 

“Chuck?” Asked Dean in shock, gaping at the prophet. 

“If you wish to call me that,” he said.

Dean nearly jumped when Cas fell to his knees beside him, head bowed. Dean thought for a fleeting moment that he may have passed out. “Father,” he murmured, eyes downcast. 

Dean blinked in shock and confusion, “God?” 

The man smiled somberly at him, “you must fix it,” he said, hands folded neatly behind his back. “This was not the destiny I foresaw. I was wrong. I am never wrong.”

”Whatever do you mean, father?” Asked Cas. 

“Rise, child,” said Chuck, beckoning with his hand. He did. Dean moved to stand closer to the angel. “You have to go back to when it all started.” 

Dean regarded God with a blank stare, “I’m gonna have to second what Cas here said. I don’t understand.” 

Chuck smiled, something sad flickering behind his eternally old eyes. “You were always my favorite, Castiel. And you, Dean, I had high hopes for you. I trust you will not fail me again.”  What the hell was that supposed to mean? 

Chuck snapped his fingers, and Cas was gone with a small pop and a cut off curse. “Cas!” He cried. He whirled around to face God, raising his shotgun as if it would actually hurt him, “what did you do!” 

“Fear not, Dean. You will be with him soon. The best I can do is provide this gift of parting, the rest is up to you. I wish you the best of luck. Do not fail me.” Chuck pressed two fingers to his forehead, in a similar fashion to when Cas always did it to heal one of his ridiculous hunting injuries. A searing pain flashed through his body, and Dean screamed in agony. 

And then he was falling. 

“FUCKER!” Dean roared, slamming his forehead into something solid. “Shit!” 

His eyes flew open, taking in his unfamiliar surroundings. Something clattered to the ground next to him, and Dean hissed as his body tingled from Chuck’s angel whammy. It never sucked that bad when Cas did it.

He had hit his head on a dresser. A dresser. Upon closer inspection, Dean found that he was laying on the ground of some shitty motel room, beer bottles and food wrappers strewn across the ground around him. “The hell?” Last he checked, the world was ending. How drunk did he get?

Admittedly, he’d found himself in some sketchy situations after a night out; namely that one time he woke up in a bush behind a frat house with an extra hairy dick drawn across his forehead with a sharpie. 

Dean groaned, stumbling to his feet, only to nearly trip over an angel blade resting at his right foot.

He stared down at the weapon, trying to make heads or tails of what the actual fuck just transpired. “Cas?” He called, doing a complete three-sixty of the room. A figure from under the covers of the bed flush to the far wall let out a moan, turning over in their sleep. That was definitely not Cas, and decidedly female. 

Dean stumbled backwards, full on panicking now. He snatched the blade off of the ground, only stopping when he froze in front of the mirror. Oh hell no. Oh absolutely fucking not. 

Last time Dean checked, he was at least thirty two years old. This, this person staring back at him, had to be at least five or six years younger. Dean sucked in another panicked breath, hands shooting to his pockets to find his phone. He shakily flipped it open once his hand closed around it, eyes widening impossibly wide at the date on top of the horribly pixelated screen. 

September 16th, 2005; Just about a month and a half before Dean had visited Sam at Stanford to help search for their father. 

“You son of a bitch!” Dean screamed at the ceiling. “You fucking asshole!” The woman shifted in the bed again, murmuring nonsense to herself.

He angrily sank down onto the bed that didn’t have another person in it, staring down at his phone with mixed emotions. If God had enough juice to send him back in time, why the fuck could he not fix the apocalypse himself? Because last Dean checked, he was God. He had the almighty power of creation. 

Dean snarled, hurling his phone at the wall in pure anger. Only, he didn’t expect it to fly straight through the drywall. Dean gaped, hearing the yelp of another person from the opposite end of the wall as his phone missile shattered against the TV screen in their room. “Fuck,” he said, shooting to his feet. That had been entirely unexpected. He heard a series of curses as the couple in the neighboring room starting arguing with each other about where the hell the phone had come from.

This was just about the most confusing twenty minutes of his life. 

The woman, who was now very much awake, called out his name tiredly. Dean did a double take when he realized that she was fucking naked. She smiled at him, her big doe eyes looking up at him expectantly. “Get out!” He rasped, now on the verge of a panic attack. She frowned. “Out!” He pointed shakily towards the door.

Her eyes widened in hurt, tears filling them before she grabbed her pile of clothes from the ground and hauled ass out of the room, still very much naked. Some bastard out there was about to have the best day of his life.

Dean paced back and forth, taking note of his inventory. The keys to the Impala were in his pocket. That could either mean that John was at a bar by himself, drunk, or he had left Dean again. He wracked his brain, trying to remember what he had been doing in September of 2005.

And that brought on a whole other wave of panic. John. His father was still alive here. What the fuck was he supposed to do with that information? And then most importantly, where was Cas? 

It wasn’t like Dean could call him, he’d just thoroughly destroyed his phone. First things first, shower. He smelled like sweat and sex, and it made him insanely uncomfortable. Dean didn’t know how to feel about this. Sam was still alive in 2005. It was now dawning on him that Chuck had quite literally pressed the reset button.

This was chance numero dos, and he’d trusted Dean and Castiel with it. But why? It was his fault that the world was destroyed to hell and back the last time around.

As he stripped off his shirt with shaky fingers, Dean noted that he did not, in fact, have his anti-possession tattoo. But to his shock, the handprint on his shoulder remained. Okay. So first stop after this, protection tattoos. He might as well get the anti-angel ones while he was at it. He and Sam had memorized the glory marks Cas had carved into their ribs a long time ago after they scared the shit out of the techs doing the X-rays. He and Sam had become momentary celebrities while the medical staff tried to figure out what psycho did body modifications so extreme.

Dean took a moment to study his figure in the mirror. He was lacking the scars he’d accumulated over the years; gunshots, stab wounds, fucking werewolf. He was also lacking the slight pudge from around the middle from his years of excessive drinking.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. This was like a fucked up fever dream. What happened to the world that he left behind? Did it still continue on while he and Cas got blasted back to the past? That was probably a question for Cas when he found him… wherever he was. 

Dean let the hot water run down his face as he contemplated his next move. He wasn’t exactly sure what to do. It wasn’t like God had given him an instruction manual. Chuck had told him to fix it. Fix what? There were so, so many things to fix, starting with Jess. 

Dean’s eyes snapped open. Holy fuck, he could save Jess! He damn near slipped in the shower and ended his second chance right then and there. Jess wasn’t dead yet, and she wouldn’t be for about another two months. Dean had to save her, for Sam, and Chuck had given him a second chance to do that. 

He started to make a mental checklist of things he needed to do in chronological order. So far it was; tattoos, Cas, Sam, Jess. His father could kindly go screw himself for now. Dean knew where he was and where he would be, he knew how to kill the yellow eyed demon, hell, he didn’t even need the colt right now, Chuck left him with an angel blade. 

Which brought one more very, very important question; how the hell had Dean launched his phone through a wall with the force and velocity of a gunshot?

______________________________________

“Dude…,” said the tattoo artist, looking at Dean with concern, “you want all of this at once?” He was a burly man; donning at least eight different facial piercings and a multicolored mohawk. The guy somehow pulled it off, and he currently had an expression of extreme doubt plastered across his face.

After buying himself a new phone (oops), Dean had done some research on reliable tattoo artists in the area. This place had rather good reviews, and only looked a little bit sketchy.

”Yes.” 

“That’s gonna be one hell of a healing process,” he said, scratching his head, and regarding Dean with mild to moderate concern.

”I’ve dealt with worse.”

Dean decided that the angel wards would look best as sleeves. They didn’t need to be neat, just legible enough to get the job done. The ani-possession tattoo would go where it was before. The artist introduced himself as Jake as he showed Dean where he would be sitting for the next five or so hours.

He glanced down at the markings Dean had scribbled down onto a piece of paper, his face scrunching up in confusion, “what language is this?” 

“Uh… Enochian?” Leave or to his quick thinking to do virtually nothing. He probably could have said Egyptian and the guy would have believed him anyway.

“Never heard of it,” said Jake as he sterilized the tattoo gun, setting out the little containers of black ink.

Dean snorted. “Not many people have. It’s the language of the angels.” Jake nodded, seeming to accept his answer. Dean might as well just stick to it. He’d probably had stranger requests, anyway.

Eventually, the buzz of the tattoo gun, and the dull ache of it digging into his skin caused him to zone out. They were about halfway done, all of the line work finished nicely. Jake proved to be a fantastic tattoo artist. He barely batted an eye at the brand on his shoulder after Dean played it off as a failed tattoo removal. 

He just worked around it, somehow making Dean’s chicken scratch handwriting look nicer on his skin than on paper. “Man,” said Jake about thirty minutes later with a head shake, “you sit like a rock.” 

That tended to happen to a person when they got tortured in hell for forty years. This was essentially a flu shot compared to what Alistair had done to him. 

After paying (Jake gave him a discount), and instructions on how to care for the tattoos properly while they healed, Dean studied his new markings in the mirror. He vaguely noted that he looked kind of badass. Sam would likely have a heart attack if he saw it, and John would probably call him a fairy or some shit. He’d always had a vendetta against excessive tattooing, though John had a vendetta against a lot of things.

They wound around his arms nicely, blending together so that it didn’t looks like a haphazardly drawn symbol. Dean decided that he liked this look for him. It was a fresh start, after all. Why not do everything different?

He could still clearly see the handprint, something inside of him glowing warmly at that. It was somehow a reminder that Cas was still with him, even when he wasn’t. Wherever you are, man, please hurry, he prayed as he shrugged his shirt back on. 

After exiting the shop, Dean’s new phone vibrated in his pocket. He had programmed it with the same number as his old one just in case Sam needed to call him or something. He knew his brother wouldn’t, they were still having a bit of a rough patch right now, according to the timeline. 

It was an unfamiliar number, but he answered it anyway. “Hello?” He said after pressing the answer button. 

“Dean.” 

His heart dropped. “Dad.”

Dean knew this was inevitable, but hearing his dad’s voice after all of these years was strange. It was like he was reliving a long forgotten memory; which he essentially was. 

“I need your help, boy.” 

“With what?” He asked, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice. 

“I have a lead on the thing that killed your mother. Where are you right now?” 

Shit. Dean didn’t actually know. If he remembered correctly, he had been making his way towards California slowly, eventually planning on reconnecting with Sam. He took a wild guess, “Nevada.” 

“The fuck are you doing in Nevada, boy?” 

“I was following a lead,” he said, “on a, uh… werewolf.” 

There was a pause on the other end, “by yourself?” 

Dean thinned his lips. He forgot how different these times were. He rarely hunted by himself, and when he did, John didn’t trust that he would make it out alive. He thought Dean was stupid, and he knew it for a fact. He always made a point to emphasize his ‘pretty’ looks, saying that hunters should look more masculine, more gruff. Dean didn’t let it bother him now. “Yes, by myself, dad.”

”The hell did I tell you about that? What if you got killed?” 

“But I didn’t. And I won’t. What’s the lead?” 

He could hear a vague grunt of anger from the other end of the line, “tracked it to the outskirts of California. It’s moving quickly, so I figured that we should close in on it now.” 

Dean didn’t know how to tell his father that they couldn’t kill it with any weapons that they had now. He also knew that his dad was dropping off the face of the earth soon after this phone call. “Yeah. I’ll meet you there.” The phone hung up. 

Dean pretended not to notice that John never told him exactly where to meet. He was never going to show up anyway, so Dean was heading straight for Sam. Just after he found Cas. 

______________________________________

“Cas, wherever the fuck you are now, I could really use you, man. Chuck didn’t exactly leave me with any instructions on how to fuck up a preexisting timeline…,” he sighed, leaning back in the Impala’s drivers seat. “Just hurry. I want to save Jess. I just have to catch yellow eyes before he gets there. Maybe this is what Chuck meant when he told me to ‘fix it?’ I don’t know…,” Dean closed his eyes. 

He felt terribly alone right now. Sam was dust in the wind until further notice, his father would be useless to him now that Dean was basically a prophet until the year two thousand ten. 

Dean flipped open his phone again, staring down at the number he had plugged in for Sam. Sam never answered him in the past. Dean had rarely even called him; only about once a month to check up and see how he was doing. 

He closed the phone. And then opened it again with a frustrated grunt. Now was not the time for procrastination. Dean pressed the call button. He just needed to hear his brother’s voice, just to know he was alright. He shuttered, the images of his brother taking his last breaths flashing briefly behind his eyes.

His heart practically stopped beating as the phone rang, and then he almost had a heart attack when it picked up. “Hello?” Said the voice on the other end. Sam. 

Dean realized that Sam must had deleted his number. He wouldn’t have answered if he knew that it was Dean. He took in a shaky breath. “Hellooo?” Said Sam. 

“Sammy.” 

The silence was loud. “Dean?” 

He couldn’t help his slightly hysterical laugh, “fuck, it’s good to hear your voice, man.” 

“Dean, I thought I told you to lose this number.” 

“I know, just… how are you?” 

“How am— what? Dude, are you dying or something?” 

“No! Can I not check in on my baby brother. It’s almost been two damn years.” 

“…yeah. Listen, Dean. Whatever you’re going to ask me about hunting, the answer is still no.”

”I know.”

”So this isn’t a call to convince me to come back?” There was another sigh, “fine. How much money do you need then?”

”Sam! I don’t need money. ‘Sides, I’ve got my fake credit cards anyway.”

”Of course you do.” 

Dean picked at his nail absently, waiting for Sam to say something else. He didn’t. “Listen, man. I’ve got to go. Just… just be careful.” 

”You’re worrying me, Dean. Is something going on?”

“No. No. Everything’s fine. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Bye, Sammy. Maybe I’ll see you soon?” Dean hung up before Sam could say anything else. Or before he could make any more of a fool of himself. 

Dean stretched his arms over his head, letting his phone drop into the passenger seat. He frowned at the lack of pain the feeling of new tattoos should have. The skin didn’t even pull tight. Dean curiously lifted the sleeve of his shirt, shocked to see that the skin wasn’t even red, much less irritated. “The hell?” 

He prodded the skin, eyes widening. It was completely healed. 

Chuck had done something to him before zapping him back about six years. A flaring pain, a ‘gift,’ he had said. Fuck. Dean slipped the angel blade out of his hidden coat pocket, turning it over to gaze at the engravings in the pommel. Double fuck. He had a theory, and he didn’t like it.

Cas told him a long time ago that each angel had their own unique blade with their name engraved into it. Dean ran his fingers over the runes, spelling each letter out as he went. He wasn’t very familiar with Enochian, but he did know most of the letters. 

“Aw, shit, Chuck,” he said. “Not cool, dude.”

It was his name. 

Many miles away, Jimmy Novak said yes to Castiel, giving up his body as a vessel to the angel of the lord for the last time. 

DEAN

Dean was less than pleased with his recent developments. A few thoughts raced through his mind at once; one, would he be able to angel whammy people like Cas? ‘Cause that alone would be pretty badass. Two, could he still eat, and if yes, would he even need to shit? He chose not to look into that one too deeply. And then third, and most importantly, is he fucking immortal now? Would he just be twenty six years old for the rest of eternity? He wasn’t sure how to feel about that one.

Dean thought that he might cry if food tasted like molecules like Cas said it did. 

“Dude,” he hissed to the sky as he hurried into the nearest convenience store, “I am really freaking out, find me now. Do I have fucking wings!” 

It didn’t feel like he had wings, then again, he would definitely notice if he had two large appendages jutting from his back. He’d never actually seen Cas’ wings, just shadows of them because they ‘were on another plane of existence.’ Fuck, his brain was hurting. 

Dean wound through the store until he found the pie. Dear God, please let him still be able to taste this. The employee didn’t even bat an eye as Dean snatched a whole apple pie into his hands and walked straight out of the door without paying; poor guy probably didn’t get paid enough to deal with it anyway. 

So it turned out Dean could taste food. He thanked every lucky star before promptly finishing off the pie with a desperate kind of gusto. 

Now that he’d established the most important of the issues, he seriously needed to find Cas. Or wait for Cas to find him. He didn’t have the slightest idea of where to actually look for the angel, so all he could keep doing was praying.

He tossed the empty pie box into the passenger seat with his phone, picking up the dejected device to see a multitude of messages from Sam. 

Sam: 4:32 a.m 

>Dean

Sam: 4:37 a.m

>Dean are you okay 

Sam: 4:53 a.m

>I swear to god if you’re not and you’re lying to me 

Sam: 6:45 a.m

>Is it dad?

And then the most recent message, sent ten minutes ago. 

Sam: 8:21 a.m 

>that’s it I’m finding you 

You: 8:32 a.m

>no. I’m good. Stay at college 

Sam: 8:32 a.m

>fucking asshole! Where are you 

You: 8:33 a.m

>doesnt matter. Am fine. 

Sam: 8:33 a.m

>this isn’t funny 

>you can’t just call me after 2 years and ask if I’m okay for no reason 

Dean stared down at his phone in confusion. Why not? It wasn’t like Sam was gonna go long without seeing him anyway. T-minus one month, and Dean was hauling his ass down to Stanford. Not that Sam needed to know that right now, of course. 

You: 8:36 a.m

>I can’t? 

Sam: 8:36 a.m

>no! 

Sam’s caller ID popped up on his screen and Dean stared at it for a full five seconds before hanging up. 

You: 8:38 a.m 

>gotta go. 

>working a case. Cya later Sammy 

Sam: 8:39 a.m

>fuck you 

Dean set his phone back down with a sigh before firing up the engine of the Impala. He needed to find a place to stay for the night so he could figure out his next move. 

It turned out that Dean was in Arizona. His guess had been well off, but not too far from California either way. The town he resided in now was a flat expanse of nothingness surrounded by sand. It was probably a while before there was any other sign of life in any direction he chose to drive in.

Dean shook his head for about the fifth time that day. Great. 

The Impala had a full tank of gas, and he had one destination in mind for the moment, Blackwater Ridge, Colorado. He realized that every monster he and Sam had worked to kill over the years was still alive now. They were still alive, and actively murdering people every day.

Dean had a wendigo to kill. 

CASTIEL

”C’mon, Cas. Where are you, man?” 

His vessel was weak. 

Castiel needed to get to Dean, but his wings were tired, and his grace was depleted.

He needed rest. 

“I’m coming, Dean,” he said to nobody in particular. 

All he could do was have faith in his father. This was all God’s plan, after all.

DEAN

Dean knew where the wendigo was. Last time he was here, he remembered helping the young lady named Hayley find her brother after the creature stored him in a mineshaft for a late night snack.

That wasn’t the case this time. Her brother hasn’t been kidnapped yet, and Dean knew how to kill it. Piece of cake.

Maybe he could speed-run these cases in the meantime. He didn’t want to find Sam just yet. The only other person in existence that knew Dean wasn’t from this time was Cas; he didn’t want to seem suspicious in any way, shape, or form. 

If he rolled up to Stanford, guns blazing, looking for Azazel specifically, the demon would know immediately. Dean would be the first to admit that Azazel was smart. He thought of every possibility before making any sort of move, and Dean had to be smarter. He would arrive the night Jess was destined to die, and he would save her then. 

He knew that no matter what he did, somebody would suspect something. There was no possible way for him to know that Jess was going to die, and he couldn’t tell Sam directly. He could only hope that Sam would believe in a very lucky coincidence.

As Dean pulled into Blackwater Ridge, he smiled at the shocking beauty of the trees. Dean hadn’t had much time to just enjoy the small things, but somehow he found himself smiling at fucking trees. He let out a snort in disbelief. 

The wendigo was lurking around in there somewhere, probably watching him as he thought about it. Dean could either burn the fucker alive, or get close enough to skewer it with his shiny new weapon. Either way worked for him as long as it was dead. 

Dean watched people mill around outside, laughing, talking with each other. It was a nice day. 

People watching had been one of Dean’s favorite activities when he was younger. He would zero in on somebody, whether it was middle aged woman with three kids, or a teenager at a skate park, and he would imagine would it would be like to stand in their shoes.

He would wonder what it would be like to live a normal life in place of his shitty one. What if he went to school, got good grades, hell, even played on a basketball team or some shit? Sammy had alway been the one for normal, and over time, Dean began to understand him. 

He could never live a life like that now, knowing that things like demons and vampires lurked in the shadows. He would constantly live with the guilt of not tracking them down when he knew that they existed, knew that they were out there killing people. 

A couple caught his eye. He discreetly turned his body to watch them as he pretended to rifle through the backseat of his car. They were older, maybe mid to late forties. The man was slightly balding, a pair of thick rimmed glasses sitting atop of a slightly crooked nose. He had a black eye, and Dean noted his calloused hands; something that took years to form. 

The woman had a funky haircut, one side shaved, the other dyed a bright green. She had a cut across her cheekbone, and Dean immediately donned them as hunters. The car they stood by was a classic, enough room in the trunk for an arsenal almost as big as his own. 

And Dean knew they were here for the same reason he was, the only difference was, he lived, and they didn’t, otherwise the wendigo wouldn’t have been there when he and Sam arrived almost two months later. Maybe he could save more than one life. 

Dean slammed his back door shut, patting his pocket where his angel blade rested. He sighed, making his way towards the couple. There was no point in being discreet at this point. 

The woman spotted him first, nudging her partner in the side as he approached them. Dean put on his best flashy smile, showing all of his teeth. “Mornin’!” He said. 

They both narrowed their eyes at him. “Watcha want, boy?” Said the woman. She kind of reminded him of Ellen, just with an ugly haircut.

“Same thing you do?” 

“Yeah, and what’ll that be?” Said the man, crossing his arms and visibly sizing Dean up. 

“Creature in the woods. Snatching people in the night, not a body to be found. Sound familiar?” 

They both glanced at each other in surprise before the woman nodded. “What’s it to you? This is our case. Maybe you should take on something more your size… perhaps a death echo?”

Dean’s eye twitched. “Do you even know what’s out there?” He asked. 

“Skinwalker,” said the man all too confidently. 

“Wrong you are,” said Dean. 

“I don’t think so,” said the woman, “been doing this a long time, I’d know a skinwalker when I see one.” 

“Yeah, except it’s not a skinwalker.”

”Fine,” said the man, his attention fully on Dean now. He only looked slightly pissed. “I’ll bite. What is it then?”

Dean leaned against a tree, trying his best to look nonchalant, “wendigo.” 

The woman snorted, “bullshit. They don’t come this far North.”

”Well this one does,” he sighed, “listen, as I see it, you have two options. Go out there by yourself, convinced it’s a skinwalker, and never come back because it ate you, or listen to what I’m tellin’ you, and swallow your seniority.” 

The woman looked like she wanted to rip his head clean off and use it as a basketball, but the man held out a hand to stop her, “if there’s any chance it’s a wendigo, I’d like to come prepared,” he told her in a low voice. He looked to Dean again, “Jason,” he said, holding out his hand. At least Jason was reasonable.

Dean accepted it, shaking. “Firm grip you got there,” said Jason. Right. Angel shit. 

He just snorted, “the name’s Dean.” 

He glanced to the woman expectantly. She rolled her eyes, flipping her hair off of her shoulder, “Mariel. I ain’t shakin’ your hand, Dean.” 

“Fair enough,” he said with a grin. Somebody woke up on the wrong damn side of the bed today. “You sleep with that?” He asked Jason as Mariel slammed their trunk closed. 

He let out a booming laugh. 

______________________________________

Dean was pretty sure that he had every ward possible tattooed onto his arms. Unfortunately, Jason and Mariel did not. 

So Dean had quite literally scribbled them onto their forearms with sharpies as they questioned his insanity. 

“It’ll keep the wendigo away,” he explained as he finished off the wards on Jason’s arm, “or at least keep it from tracking you.”

”How do you know that?” Asked Mariel as she regarded him with curiosity. “You’re a bit young, aren’t you.” 

“To be a hunter? I wouldn’t think so. Been doing this shit since I could say my ABC’s.”

Dean set down the depleted sharpie, and Jason cocked a brow at him. “What about you?” 

Dean grinned, partially rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, “tattooed. Wards ain’t going nowhere.” 

“Goddam,” said Mariel with a whistle, “there’s gotta be everything there; thanks for the idea, though. What language is that?” 

“Don’t even know. It works though.” Dean figured that lying would be easier than explaining the existence of angels to other hunters. They didn’t need to know about that just yet. 

______________________________________

“You ever killed a demon?” Asked Mariel as they trekked through the thick woods. 

Dean snorted, “once or twice.” 

“Really now?” Asked Jason. “Ain’t never even seen one. Thought they were rare.”

”They’re my specialty, I guess,” said Dean, stepping over a fallen tree. Specialty. Sure. Dean could have practically had tea parties with demons at this point. Sam with Ruby checked off every item on that list. 

“You’re one tough son of a bitch,” Jason said with a grin. “Takes balls to actually look for a demon.”

The sun was beginning to set, and the wendigo would start to become more active the darker it got. Dean had a lighter, and an honest to god can of hairspray tucked into his back pocket just in case. He didn’t think he would need it though. 

And he didn’t.

The wendigo struck at around midnight, seeming to pick up on their scent more than anything. Unlike last time, nobody was stupid enough to fire off shots into the woods. Bullets would only piss it off. Mariel had panicked when Jason was snatched right from his seat on a fallen tree, and she and Dean had followed the tracks to the abandoned mineshaft. 

It ended with Dean barreling through a wooden caution sign hammered over a closed shaft, barely even feeling the splintering wood shatter around him. 

The wendigo had dropped Mariel from where it had her pinned against a wall, and Dean had caught the fucker by surprise when he drove his angel blade straight thorough it’s empty eye socket. He had nearly jumped when the thing literally spontaneously combusted. It’s papery skin erupted in flames, sizzling away at it like tissue paper.

He and Mariel had gagged on the smell of burning wendigo as they swiftly exited the mineshaft with Jason in tow. The man was slightly delirious, and a little banged up, but overall okay. 

Mariel and Jason had profusely thanked him after that, exchanging numbers just in case they happened to run into each other again on another case. They didn’t turn out to be too bad despite their rocky first impressions. (Even Mariel.)

Dean felt a sense of satisfaction while leaving Blackwater Ridge that day. Not only had he saves two lives, but he had also prevented any deaths that could happen in the future. 

CASTIEL

Dean killed a wendigo. 

He knew that because he told him so. 

“Hey, Cas,” he had prayed that night. “Stopped by Blackwater Ridge today, took care of one of the first cases Sam and I tackled together.” 

Castiel closed his eyes with a smile, soaking in the hunter’s soothing voice. It was almost time. 

“It wasn’t as tough as I remembered it to be. But maybe that’s ‘cause I already killed it once. Or maybe it’s just the extra juice Chuck gave me. That helps.”

Dean continued to talk about his day, not even knowing if Castiel could hear him or not. 

But Dean was an angel now, wasn’t he? Or at least some semblance of one. Angels could hear prayers. So for the first time in his life, Castiel prayed to Dean Winchester. 

“Hello, Dean. I suppose I can say that I miss you too. I have been resting, but I will see you in the near future.” 

Castiel always kept his promises. 

SAM

”You okay, Sam?” Murmured Jess from behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head atop his shoulder. She hummed quietly. “You’ve been quieter than usual.” 

“Yeah,” he said tersely, glancing down at his phone again. His knuckles whitened around it. “Just some family issues.” 

The weight of her arms slipped away as she moved to stand in front of him. She crossed her arms, deep frown marring her face. “Your dad? I know you don’t really like to talk about him much.” 

Sam chuckled, leaning back on the couch he’d been sitting on. “No. It’s… uh… actually my brother.” 

Jess cocked her head at him in interest, “your brother? You talk about him even less. Hell, I don’t even know his name,” said Jess with a breathy laugh. Then she sat down on the couch beside to him, patting his leg, “Come on then. Spill.”

Sam sighed, closing his eyes. There was no hiding anything from Jess. “His name’s Dean. He’s pretty much been gone ghost for a while now… he just called me two days ago.” 

“Really?” She asked, a note of shock lacing her tone, “what did he want?” 

“See that’s the thing, I don’t know. He said he was just checking up on me, asked how I was doing.” 

“And what’s the problem with that?” She asked with blatant confusion. “Maybe he just misses you.” 

“Things are never that simple with Dean,” he said, eyes trailing off to the family picture he had framed on their coffee table. It was just them and their dad. The picture put up a false image of a happy family, which was why he chose that one to frame. Dean and Sam both had toothy grins plastered across their faces as John wrapped his arms around their small frames.

“How can you be so sure? When was the last time you talked to him, anyway?” 

“Before this? About two years….” 

“Christ, Sam!” She squawked, thwapping him over the head with the back of her hand.

“Ow!” 

“Of course he would check up on you! It’s been two years. Was there some kind of a falling out?”

”Sort of. My dad was all about the both of us sticking with the family business, so was Dean. I wanted to go to college instead.” 

Jess hummed, “and I’m assuming, since you’re halfway through getting into law school, it did not go over well with them.”

”No. Not at all,” he chuckled.

There was a brief moment of silence where Jess drummed her fingers against her leg, lips pursed. “Ask him if he wants to come visit.” 

Sam physically did a double take. “Excuse me?” 

Jess scowled at him, “you heard me. Ask him to come visit. Call him right here, put him on speaker, and I’ll convince his ass.”

”Jess, this really isn’t a good idea,” he said. 

“Nope! You’re calling him.” 

“Am not.” 

“Are too.” 

They had a short staredown before Jess lunged for his phone, Sam letting out a yelp as she tackled him. There was a brief tussle, where Jess somehow ended up with her bare foot pressed against his cheek as he begged her not to press that damn call button. 

“Oh, this button?” She asked innocently, finger hovering over Dean’s contact name. She pressed the fucking thing. “Too late.” 

“Jess!” He cried, making a move to snatch the phone again. She held it out of his reach, foot still firmly planted on his face, as the damn thing rang. And rang, and then rang some more. And then it picked up. 

“Heya, Sammy!” Dean chirped from the other end of the phone. 

“You’re dead,” he mouthed, pointing at Jess menacingly. Her cheeky grin just widened. 

“Is this Dean?” She asked innocently, shooting Sam a pointed look and fluttering her lashes.

“Yes ma’am. Whose askin’?”

”My name’s Jess, Sam’s girlfriend. I guess I’m speaking on behalf of him today because the stick lodged up his ass seems to have hindered his ability to speak.”

“Hey!” He barked.

Sam ignored the howling laughter coming from Dean’s end of the phone. He also noted the steady sound of the Impala’s engine rumbling in the background; he must be driving. “Oh, man! I like you. Good pick, Sammy!” There was the sound of something clattering after that, and then a muffled curse. ”Sorry ‘bout that. Watcha callin’ for anyway?” 

“Well,” said Jess with a smug look, “We were both wondering if you wanted to come visit sometime. You know, catch up. Since it’s been so long,” she raised her brows at Sam after that statement, probably hoping he would say something to back her up.

Dean was quiet for a long moment, then “you there, Sam?” 

“Yeah,” he rasped, swallowing heavily. 

“Dunno if I can. There’s some stuff I gotta wrap up first, a friend to meet. Maybe after that?”

”A friend?” Asked Sam, “you have friends? What about dad?” 

“Very funny, asshat. And yes, I do happen to have a singular friend. And dad? I dunno, he’s been doing his own thing lately.” 

Sam frowned. Dean never strayed far from their father, especially if they were hunting together. “Are you sure everything’s okay?” He asked, actually a bit concerned now. 

“All peachy, Sammy. Listen, I gotta go, somethin’ came up. Talk to you later. Was nice meetin’ you Jess.” And then there was the click of the receiver hanging up. Sam stared at his phone which was still held in Jess’s hand.

“Wow,” said Jess. “You weren’t lying.” 

“Of course I wasn’t,” he sighed. 

“Do you think he’ll actually come?” 

“He will,” said Sam, pushing himself off the couch with an exaggerated groan, “it’s just a matter of when.” 

______________________________________

“He sounded lonely.” 

“Jess, Dean doesn’t get lonely. All he needs is the company of a six pack of beer and a random chick from a bar, and he’s all set.” 

She planted her hands firmly on her hips. “How could you say that? You’re being cold-hearted Sam. He’s your brother.”

Jess then proceeded to pluck the phone from Sam’s back pocket, skipping away from him with a grin. “I’m calling him again. Three days is a long time. And he left you hanging. Maybe he’ll talk now.”

“Jess!”

”Sam!”

”Why are you so insistent on this?” He whined. 

“Because he doesn’t sound like a bad person. Hell, he might have reached out to you because he had nothing else to do. Or nowhere to go. Maybe he was just looking for his brother. ” 

“He said he’s meeting a friend. That’s sounds like somebody to me. Fuck, maybe it’s even a girlfriend.” That would solve literally every problem ever. Dean had never been one to settle, but he was fiercely loyal to those close to him. If there was a girl, he knew that his brother would do anything for her. 

Jess just rolled her eyes, scrolling through Sam’s contact list until she found Dean’s name again, all the while shielding the device from him just in case he decided to launch a stealth move on her again. Sam groaned. 

“You know, you should probably save his name under something other than ‘bro.’” 

“Why?” 

“Dunno. It makes more sense,” she said, pressing the call button again. The phone barely even rang.

Dean picked up almost immediately. “SONUVABITCH!” Was the first thing Sam heard roaring through the speaker. 

He reeled back in shock, and Jess held the phone in front of her face like it was a bomb that needed defusing. “Dean? What the fuck?” Sam cried in confusion.

”Really, really bad time, Sammy,” Dean yelped. 

Sam nearly shit himself as what sounded like honest to god gunshots rang out in the background. “Holy shit!” Cried Jess, “Are you being shot at? Why the hell did you answer the phone?” 

“I don’t know! What did I tell you about speaker phone with other people around Sa— FUCK.” Another shot rang out, this time much closer. There were multiple voices shouting, and the phone clattered as it hit the ground on Dean’s end. 

Sam ripped the phone from Jess’s hand, “Dean!” She attempted to grapple it back from him, but this time she lost. 

There was another muffled clattering as Dean picked up the phone, “FUCKING FUCKER!” He roared. This time the shot was much closer, definitely fired off by Dean. “That’ll teach you, asshole,” he snapped. 

He and Jess stared at the device with open jaws. How the fuck was he supposed to explain this one to Her? “Sorry ‘bout that!” Dean crowed as something slammed shut in the background. It sounded like the trunk of a car, or maybe a door. “How much of that did your girl hear?” 

“She was the one that called you, asshole.” 


“Oh. Shit.”

“Explain. Now,” said Jess. “Also, are you okay?”

Sam’s mouth flapped. 

”I’m a cop,” said Dean before Sam could come up with a worse lie. When he panicked, he usually said stupid shit. He didn’t think that Jess would believe him if he said that Dean was playing intense paintball with his friends. “Caught me in the line of duty. No biggie, all quiet on the western front now.” 

“Why the shit would you pick up the phone while somebody was shooting at you!” Jess cried, almost hysterically.

“I’m a simple man, Jess. Sammy calls, I answer. I’m easy like that.” 

Jess covered the speaker of the phone, turning an accusing look on Sam, “you didn’t tell me your brother was a cop,” she hissed. 

Sam chuckled nervously, thanking the lord that she bought it. “It never came up.” 

“Y’all keep catching me at real bad times,” Dean continued on. “If there wasn’t anything you guys really needed, I gotta go. Fucker got me good in the leg, and I gotta clean bloodstains outta baby’s seats.”  

And then he hung up. 

“Asshole!” Sam barked at the phone. 

“He got shot!” Cried Jess. 

“He’ll be fine,” said Sam, haphazardly running a hand through his hair. 

“He was shot!” Jess shrieked hysterically. 

That call raised so many questions. Obviously, Dean was still hunting. He avoided answering any direct questions on what the actual fuck he was doing, and wouldn’t tell Sam where he was. Apparently, he was also alone. Sam sure hoped that this ‘friend’ he mentioned before was there to patch him up.

Sam shook his head. “God, Dean,” he mumbled.

”Should we make sure he’s okay…?” Asked Jess. “Or maybe send an ambulance in his direction?”  

“I’ll check up on him later, plus there should’ve been an ambulance on scene. Because he’s a cop,” said Sam. “And I’ve got a call to make myself.” 

When Jess reluctantly let Sam leave their apartment with his phone, he scrolled down to the old number of his father. He wouldn’t pick up, Sam knew it. But if John wasn’t with Dean, then what was he doing alone? 

Maybe the two of them were tracking two sides of the same case; that did happen sometimes. 

So Sam called him. 

And then tried again after that. 

Four phone calls later, he still hadn’t picked up. Sam wouldn’t expect anything less.

Just what were they up to? 

Sam glanced back at their apartment’s window from the fire escape that he was perched on currently. Jess caught his eye from the living room, and shot him a reassuring smile. 

No matter what, Sam refused to put her in danger. Maybe he should just forget about Dean for the both of them. 

Nothing good ever came out of hunting.

DEAN

Two days after his little incident with the gunslinging vampire, Dean’s leg had completely healed over. Now that was seriously cool. He could now see why the angels boasted about their all powerful greatness at every given chance. Well, that was mostly Zachariah and Lucifer. Lucifer was very fond of himself.

“Hey, Cas,” he said. It’s how he ended every day, a prayer to his angel. Sometimes, he even answered. “Leg’s all good as new. Who knew my new mojo could do that? Anyway, I’m considering gettin’ Sam and Jess outta there before yellow eyes even has the chance.” 

Dean sighed, stretching out on his motel bed. “Was planning on burstin’ in there the night she was s’posed to die,” Dean’s words were stifled by a yawn, “but I think that maybe I should get them outta there while I can.” 

Cas didn’t answer tonight, but that was okay, because Dean knew that he was listening. 

“Anyway… I miss you, man. I dunno where you are now, but please come back. I kinda need you.” 

With that, Dean flipped off the light switch next to his bed. He honestly wasn’t sure if he even needed to sleep anymore. Cas didn’t, but chose to when he could. Dean shuddered at the thought of going so long without shut eye. He needed his four hours, dammit. 

As he slowly dozed off, he thought about how lucky Sam was to have Jess. Dean immediately liked her the second she so blatantly insulted Sam and made it sound like his fault. Only girlfriends had that superpower.

He was more determined to save her now. Upon occasion, he’d receive a text from Jess; she must have nabbed his number from Sam’s phone. The first one he got from her was yesterday. She wanted to know if he was still alive after his little shootout via phone call. 

Once he had assured her that he received ‘proper medical care,’ from the hypothetical ambulance at the hypothetical crime scene, she seemed satisfied; then letting him know that Sam was worried, but too prideful to reach out to him so soon. 

Dean definitely didn’t miss these days. His relationship with Sam had been strained at the beginning. It was Sam’s hesitance to get back into hunting, mixed with Dean’s persistence for him to start it all back up again. Once Jess had died the first time, Sam became irritable, eager to kill everything that wasn’t them. Dean really did not need to relive that again, thank you very much. 

Dean’s phone dinged next to him, and he cracked his eye open, feeling around for the device before his hand closed around it. It was a text from Jess. 

J: 11:49 p.m

>still alive? 

Dean snorted, quickly typing out his response. 

You: 11:49 p.m

>your boy toy know you’re talking to me? 

J: 11:50 p.m

>he’ll live 

>now answer the damn question 

You: 11:51 p.m

>no

>my spirit that has yet to ascend is answering the phone 

J: 11:51 p.m

>asshole 

>go to bed 

You: 11:52 p.m 

>you texted me first

J: 11:54 p.m

>bed 

Dean rolled his eyes, once again setting down his phone. He could see why Sam picked her. He balanced him out; the perfect mix of goofiness and seriousness at the same time. Able to live in the moment, but also be able to take things seriously when she needed to. 

It made his heart ache for Cas. 

Dean had never really put a label on their relationship. Just before Chuck had zapped them back to 2005, their relationship had just started to touch the tip of the iceberg of ‘something more.’ They had shared a drunken kiss outside of Bobby’s house the day they all thought they were going to die. They didn’t, but Sam did. 

They never had time to talk about it, and Dean honestly didn’t know if he wanted to. 

Now he wasn't going to be an asshole and say that the kiss meant nothing to him. ‘Cause it did. It meant a whole lot, actually. It had been a spur of the moment kind of thing that hadn’t even been a second thought in the back of his mind. Kind of a Hail Mary, ‘hey, Cas, we’re gonna die anyway, so why the fuck not!’

And, yeah, Dean enjoyed it. He enjoyed the hell out of it, and maybe, sort of, wanted to do it again, but Cas wasn’t here right now, and Dean was feeling all kinds of foreign emotions towards the angel. The very male angel. 

Dean hasn’t really explored any interest in men in the past. In fact, he’d never really had interest in men at all until Cas. Maybe it was just because it was Cas. Cas was Cas, and somehow, that was enough for him. 

Dean knew his overstimulated mind was rambling nonsense right now. He was tired, burnt out, and in need of a real good fucking Apple pie. He knew what he was doing when he woke up in the morning. 

After tackling the pie, Dean was going to hit one more case before heading for Sam and Jess. He needed to gank Bloody Mary. 

That was the first case, maybe besides the demon on the airplane, that had truly scared the shit out of him. At least he knew how to kill her this time. There was something about ghosts and mirrors that really didn’t sit right with him. 

“Gonna sleep now, Cas,” he mumbled, letting out a yawn so big he felt his ears pop. “Going after Bloody Mary tomorrow. Bitch was a real fun case you know. Anyway, just thought I should let you know. Just in case. Night, Cas. Maybe I’ll see you soon.” 

And as Dean finally started to drift off to sleep, he heard a very faint reply somewhere deep in his mind. 

Goodnight, Dean.

DEAN

”Good morning, Dean.” 

He damn near flew out of the bed. 

“Fuck, man!” He gasped, hand clenched over his chest as his heart raced, “don't do that.” 

Castiel stood at the very foot of his bed, expression as poker faced as ever. The fucking asshole. His vessel was the same, albeit a few years younger; the outfit was different too. This time, Jimmy was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a canvass jacket over a wife beater; a reasonable substitute for his trademark work suit and trench coat. Good lord, the man actually had style. 

Dean promptly launched himself at the angel without preamble once he blinked the sleep out of his eyes, recovering from his early morning jump scare. “Where the fuck have you been?” He gasped, arms coming up to wrap tightly around Castiel’s waist. 

Cas returned the hug with equal fervor, his chin resting on Dean’s shoulder. Dean noted that he smelled a bit like whiskey and old spice deodorant. Jimmy really was a man of taste, it appeared. “I have been resting.” He said simply. 

Dean pulled away, hands still on Cas’ shoulders as he searched his eyes. “You’ve been resting,” he deadpanned. 

Cas winced, “er… yes. The time jump was far more taxing on my physical form than I thought. My wings refused to work initially. I apologize, Dean,” he said sincerely. 

Dean huffed, drawing Cas back into his arms. “Doesn’t matter, you’re here now.” 

The two of them stayed like that until it seemed as though it had far surpassed the limits of socially acceptable. “Nice digs,” chuckled Dean, plucking at the collar of Castiel’s new canvass jacket. He thought that he could get used to the new look.

Cas smiled, “yes. James was dressed for a night out, as you would say. This is far more comfortable than his other outfit.” Cas’ eyes remained fixed on Dean’s face, roving over his body to the point where he squirmed under his intense gaze a bit. 

“What?” He asked a bit defensively. “There something on my face?” 

“No,” said Cas with a breathy laugh, “you look young.” 

“You do too,” he retorted, “even though I know you’re physically, like, a billion years old.” 

Cas just rolled his eyes before his expression shifted into something unreadable. He almost looked nervous. “Would you allow me to fix your wards? It was rather smart of you to get them tattooed.” 

“How the hell do you even know they’re there?” 
Cas flushed, diverting his eyes almost bashfully. Dean cleared his throat. “Never mind. I don’t wanna know. Have at it.”

Cas snapped his fingers with a satisfied nod, Dean’s shirt disappearing with a huff of air. He jumped back in shock, his hands flying up to cover his chest like a fucking chick. “Jeez, Cas! Give a guy a warning next time.”

“I hardly think that was worthy of one,” Cas snipped, moving to stand in front of where Dean had sat on the bed. He studied the lines inked into his arms, a look of concentration plastered across his face. “Your tattoo artist did a rather fine job. Only a few of them are crooked.” Good to know.

Cas gently pressed his fingers to Dean’s sternum, a warm feeling washing over him. Dean’s breath hitched at how close the angel had gotten to him. The smell of whiskey overtook his nose again. “You been drinkin’?” He rasped out. 

Cas smiled, “no. I do believe that Jimmy did just before he agreed to be my vessel again, though. My mark is still there,” he noted dubiously. Dean just grinned and nodded in answer.

He followed Cas’ eyes to his arm, watching in fascination as a few of the lines righted themselves seemingly on their own. “You gotta teach me how to do that,” he murmured. And with that thought, he then shot to his feet, almost slamming his forehead into Cas’ nose.“Cas!” 

Castiel stumbled back in shock, his hand retracting quickly from where it had still been pressed to his skin, “what? Are you okay?”

“Chuck juiced me up with some sort of angel mojo. You probably heard me already when I prayed, but what the fuck did he do to me?” 

Cas cocked his head the the side in that way that made him look like a curious bird. “How did you figure this out?” 

“Launched my phone through two different layers of drywall. Don’t ask,” he said at Cas’ perplexed expression. “And then he left me with this.” Dean drew the angel blade from under his pillow. (He always kept some kind of weapon under it), and handed it to the waiting arms of Cas. “That’s my name on the handle, right?” 

Cas curiously turned the blade over in his hand, eyes widening slightly. “Yes. This is an authentic angel blade.” He wordlessly handed it back to Dean, turning his head again, “are you able to feel your wings? That being, if my father gave you any.”

Dean frowned, “I dunno what they’re supposed to feel like. So, what? Am I an angel now or something? Some kind of freaky half breed? Chuck sent me back in time with a power up?” 

Cas pressed his fingers to Dean’s forehead without warning, something akin to a small electric shock traveling down his spine. He hissed at the contact. “What the hell?” 

“It appears that you are correct in your observations. Tell me, Dean, what else did he say to you. God, I mean. Why did he send us back?” 

Dean shook his head, absentmindedly twirling his new blade around in his hand. “He just told me that we had to ‘fix it.’ I think he’s allergic to straightforward answers or something.” 

“Perhaps he wants us to prevent what happened the first time.” 

“Well that much was obvious, but how can we fix something that’s basically written in stone to happen anyway?” 

“We should have faith in our father. You are an angel now, Dean. It is time that you listened to him.” 

Something about that statement didn’t sit right with Dean. This was all happening too fast. Less than a week ago, Dean and Cas were standing in the middle of a burning world; today, they were back in 2005, and one of them was no longer human. Seemed like the start of a bad joke to him. 

“Dude,” he whined, “I can’t believe I have wings.”

”You will learn to use them soon enough,” Cas said with a confident head nod, “I will teach you.” 

“Gee, thanks,” said Dean sourly. He didn’t even know how to access them, let alone use them. Never mind that, it was a battle for another day. Dean dipped his head forward, resting it in his hands, and letting out a long suffering sigh.

He needed a goddam break. 

A warm pressure settled on his shoulder. He didn’t need to look up to know it was Cas’ hand. “Are you alright?” Asked the angel again.

“Yeah, dude. This is just a lot.” 

“I understand, but we have been given a second chance. I recommend that we take it.” 

Dean lifted his head out of his hands, his nose just inches away from Cas’ own. This was it. This was where they were, and there was no going back. 

Warm breath ghosted over Dean’s lips, and his eyes flicked down to meet the angel’s. An odd sort of half smile worked it’s way onto his face. They were so close. So, so close. 

Cas was here, finally, and Dean could  decompress for the first time since he got here. He wasn’t alone in this anymore. He and Cas had drifted impossibly closer. All he had to do was lean forward and—

His damn phone started ringing. 

Cas took a startled step back, and Dean cleared his throat awkwardly, glancing down at the caller ID. Leave it to his Sasquatch of a brother to cockblock him. 

“Who is it?” Asked Cas. 

“It’s Sam. The one from 2005.” As if Cas didn’t know that already.

“You should answer it,” he said, his blue eyes boring into Dean’s own.

“I know.” He replied, not for a second breaking their gaze.

“Are you alive?” Was the first thing that Sam said. 

“Are you on speaker phone?” 

“No. Jess is in class right now. What shot you?”

”Good mornin’ to you too. Pissed off vamp. Nothin’ I couldn’t handle, though.” 

Dean set the phone down on the nightstand, putting it on speaker so he could multitask while also talking to his brother. He stuffed some of his belongings into his duffel bag, zipping it up around them. 

He did a sniff test on one of his shirts, determining that it was okay to wear for the day. 

“So you’re still hunting, then.” 

“No. I was just taking a stroll through the park. What the hell do you think, Sam?”

”I was thinking that you went and got yourself killed like a dumbass. Who the hell is even covering your ass?” 

“He is rather irritable,” mumbled Cas. “Was he always like this?” 

Well, Fuck. He forgot to account for Cas’ severe lack of social cues. 

“Who was that?” Demanded Sam. 

“Uhh…,” Dean trailed off, glancing at Cas. “My friend… Jimmy.” Cas wrinkled his nose at Dean, and he could onto give him a weak shrug in return.

“Dean, why would you not—,” Dean clamped a hand over Cas’ mouth before he could finish that statement. He absolutely did not need Sam to know that angels existed yet, and that he was apparently one now too.

”Jimmy. So you weren’t lying, then. Is he a hunter?”

”Why the fuck would I lie about having a friend? And yes.”

”Can I talk to him?”

Dean and Cas both looked at each other with a deer caught in headlights kind of expression. “What do I do?” Cas mouthed, eyes like an owl’s.

“Figure it out,” Dean mouthed back. He shoved the phone in his direction, and Cas scowled at him before taking it. 

“Hello, Sam,” he said, shooting a withering glare at Dean. 

”Jimmy, right?”

”Yes,” said Cas, monotone. “That is correct. I am Jimmy.” Dean facepalmed, God (dad?) help him. No. Absolutely not. He was not calling God ‘dad.’

“Right…. Are you sure you’re not some random guy Dean paid to lie to me?” 

“No?” Said Cas, confused. 

Dean wrestled the phone from back his hand, Cas glaring at him in the process. “He’s not some random guy, Sammy. Drop it.  Why’d you call me, anyway?”

“To make sure the bullet didn’t kill you.” 

Ah. So Jess was right. Dean had a feeling she knew Sam far better than he had anticipated. Sam still cared, but he was also reasonably pissed at the same time, (beats Dean as to why though.)

”Still alive and kicking. How’s Jess, anyway?” 

“Don’t even think about it, Dean.” 

“What? Ew! No. God, Sam. Get your head out of the gutter.” 

He heard Sam sigh through the receiver, ”she’s good. Stressed, I think. Probably because she was sole witness to your shootout over the phone.” 

“Yeah, but she totally believed I was a cop.” 

“Yes. For now. But I don’t want her dragged into this, Dean. I’m serious.” 

A bit too late for that. She was gonna find out about the existence of demons one way or another. If he busted them out of Stanford sooner than later, he’d had to explain his reasoning. And if he arrived the day Jess was supposed to die, she’d have a front row seat to an almost one way ticket to hell. Maybe there was a way for him to kill Azazel before he even had the chance to touch the campus of Stanford. He’d discuss the possibility of that with Cas later.

“Whatever you and dad are planning, we want no part of it. I just want to—“

”Me and Dad ain’t planning shit. I haven’t seen the guy in over a month.” That’s assuming that was how long he was gone before Dean got zapped into that hotel room. 

Sam was quiet for long enough where Dean wondered if he’d shocked him into silence. “And you haven’t looked for him?” 

“Why the hell would I? If he didn’t tell me where he was goin’, he obviously didn’t want me there. Best I leave him alone.” 

“Right…. I’ve gotta go. Take care of him, Jimmy. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.” Sam hung up the phone quickly after that. 

Well, that went about as good as Dean expected. He tossed the phone onto the opposing bed, climbing to his feet. Dean stretched his arms above his head, sighing in satisfaction as the vertebrae popped in his lower back. He needed a shower. 

“Gonna shower, Cas,” he announced. “Make yourself at home. I think I’ve got half a bagel leftover or somethin’.”

”I would also like to shower,” he said, shocking the shit out of Dean.

”You want to shower? Have you ever taken one before?”

”No. but it seems pleasant.” 

“Oh, dude. You have no idea. A shower is the universal problem solver. I’ll show you after I’m done. Hopefully there will be enough hot water for the both of us.” 

“Why do we not share then?”

Dean did a double take, almost choking on air, “what?”

”Why would we not share? It would save hot water.” He did have a point. Dean forced his brain not to go there.

Dean laughed nervously, his face flaming. “Uhhh, maybe next time, Cas. I’ll be quick, Kay?”

”Okay, Dean,” he said patiently. “I shall wait here for you.” 

“Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat, “okay.”

Dean hurried to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him as he silently screamed at his dick to not think about the thought of him and Cas sharing a shower. He couldn’t go there yet, not so soon. Dean had barely kissed the guy. 

And what would his father think? 

He’s dead, his brain supplied. 

No he wasn’t. Not in this time. 

Dean didn’t give a shit what he thought, but it made all the difference in the world what he did think. He was raised in a household where anything less that ‘womanizer’ was considered a ‘faggot,’ as John Winchester would say. 

If Dean so much as looked at another man the wrong way, he was walking home with a busted nose that day. 

Dean liked Cas. He really liked him. Therefore, he didn’t want to fuck it up before it even started. He just needed to get over the mental hump of man. It sounded terrible when he put it into words like that, but anyone would understand if they had John Winchester as a father. 

True to his word, his shower was quick, and his dick luckily remained impassive, and Cas was standing exactly where Dean left him. 

He showed him the works, seeing as Cas didn’t even know which way the knob turned to get hot water. By the time the angel was finished, which was almost an hour later, Dean was almost zonked out. 

The sight of Cas with a towel wrapped around his waist was enough to wake him back up real quick. 

He was so fucked. 

SAM

Forty-seven unanswered calls later, John Winchester finally decided to pick up the damn phone. It had been a solid week since he last talked to Dean, this was unexpected, especially because it was their father. Sam learned never to keep his expectations high for him.

“Sam!” Jess barked from their bedroom. 

“What!” He called back, setting down the bottle of ranch dressing that he had just been smothering his salad in. Once upon a time, Dean would have made fun of him for it. 

“Your phone’s ringing! It’s your dad!”

The bottle of dressing hit the ground within seconds, exploding all over Sam’s feet, and the bottoms of the cabinets. Sam slipped over the linoleum tiles, leaving ranch flavored footprints in his wake. “Give me the phone!” He cried as he skidded into their room. Jess had a towel wrapped around her hair, and another around her waist, having just gotten out of the shower. 

“Sam,” she hissed, glaring at his mess on the ground, “I’m not cleaning that up.” 

“Yeah,” he said absently, snatching the phone from her hand. “You look gorgeous,” he kissed her on the cheek with a wide smile before he took the phone. 

Jess just rolled her eyes, “flattery will get you nowhere, Winchester.” 

He just shook his head with a fond eye roll and focused his attention back to the phone. Low and behold, there was the caller ID of none other than John Winchester lighting up the screen. 

Sam damn near broke the answer button pressing it. “Dad!” He cried. Jess caught his eye, picking up her car keys from the holder on their dresser. They belonged to this little red beetle that she was so fond of. She had decorated it with black spots and gave it the affectionate name of ‘Ladybug.’ Sam would relentlessly make fun of her for it, though it was no worse than Dean calling his car Baby. “Groceries,” she said, swiftly exiting the room after grabbing a discarded sundress from the ground. God bless her. 

“Somebody better be dying, boy.” 

“Hello to you too,” he retorted. “What’re you and Dean up to. Don’t bullshit me.” Two could play the blunt and straight to the point game.

“The hell do you mean?” 

“He’s been all over the place dad. He said he hasn’t seen you in well over a month. He called me about two weeks ago to check up on me for no reason.” 

The silence from John’s end was loud. “He’s not in California?” 

“How the hell would I know! He’s running around with some guy named Jimmy, shooting down vampires last time I checked.” 

“Who the fuck is Jimmy?”

”You keep asking me these questions like I know the answers to them. I’m going to assume that you’re still looking for the bastard that killed mom, which means that Dean is doing something else entirely.” 

“Is this Jimmy guy a hunter?” 

Of course he would ignore literally everything else that Sam said, otherwise known as the important stuff, “According to Dean, he is. Listen, I don’t know what’s up, and neither of you are telling me anything, but don’t drag me into this. Please. I only called to make sure that the both of you were alive.” 

“Sounds to me like you’ve already been dragged in, son. You wouldn’t have called otherwise.” 

”This isn’t fair to me, dad. You know it, and so does Dean. I’m doing good for myself, I’m doing so well in law school, don’t ruin it.”

”Don’t tell your brother about this call, Sam,” said his father. “Can’t have him following me right now. You either.” 

“Dean wasn’t looking,” said Sam out of spite. “He hasn’t been. And neither have I.”

Sam knew that what he said hurt John, but he didn’t regret it. At least not completely. There was a long suffering sigh before John replied again. “You’ll always be a hunter, Sam. You can’t avoid it.” Click. 

Sam hurled his phone at the wall in fury, watching it shatter against the plaster, and also leave a sizable dent. Jess was going to kill him. 

Sam gripped his hair, tugging until it hurt. He needed some air, and now. Sam grabbed his jacket before throwing open the door to his apartment. Maybe a shot or two would do him some good. He’d had his fair share of bad experiences with tequila, but it was sounding better and better by the minute. It would at least loosen him up. He didn’t drink much, but tonight seemed like an appropriate occasion.

He almost ran directly into Brady. His friend had been standing outside of his door, fist raised as if he was just going to knock. “Sam,” he said, shocked. 

“Hey, dude. This really isn’t a good time. Later, okay?” 

Brady nodded, throwing him an odd sort of look. 

“Family trouble?” 

Sam frowned, “yeah… how’d you know?” 

Brady shrugged, “just a hunch. Have a good night, Sam.” He flashed him a smile that didn’t look quite right on his face.

Sam furrowed his brows as Brady walked off, hands stuffed deep into his pockets. He decided to ignore his friend’s strange behavior for the time being. And now he needed a new phone because his other one was brutalized on his bedroom floor. He didn’t know where the hell he was going to cough up that money, and he wasn’t about to pull a Dean and create a fake ID.

He decided to leave Jess a quick note, taping it to the fridge, since he currently couldn’t text her his whereabouts.

JESS:

WENT 2 GET DRINK 

WILL BE BACK SOON

P.S

SORRY ABOUT THE WALL

-LOVE, SAM

Once he was satisfied with the placing of his note, Sam finally exited his apartment. It was freezing out, and he’d been a complete dumbass and forgotten a jacket. He wrapped his arms around his middle with an annoyed grumble. At least the alcohol would warm him up.

On the way down the street, about halfway to the bar, he could have sworn that he saw Brady watching him from a corner; but when he turned around to do a double take, he was gone.

His eyes must have been playing tricks on him. He really was going crazy.

DEAN

He woke up to his phone going off. 

Dean groaned, rolling onto his back, and accidentally slapping Cas across the face with his flailing arm in the process. The angel barely even moved, just grunted and rolled over. His black hair looked as though it had been attacked by a leaf blower, and he had pillow lines across his cheek. Dean blushed and looked away. He gathered his thoughts before he could overthink it. His morning wood was making it very, very hard not to do that.

The hotel clerk only had a room with one bed (apparently. Or maybe she was just being a bitch). Dean didn’t feel like throwing a tantrum, so he took it. And it wasn’t like he needed to sleep now, he chose to. And so did Cas. Right?

Oh, who the fuck were they both fooling? 

Cas mumbled something unintelligible before batting Dean’s hand away with an unnecessary amount of force. It was still lying beside him from where he’d accidentally bitch slapped him before. Castiel wasn’t a morning person, was what Dean came to gather.

“Asshole,” Dean grunted, sliding his phone towards himself. He grunted when he knocked a half empty water bottle onto the ground in the process. The liquid splashed over his pair of discarded jeans. He was surprised to see a notification from Jess. 

J: 6:49 a.m

>your dad is an asshole 

He was up. 

Dean smacked at Cas once again, the latter cracking open a single bleary eye to shoot Dean a death glare that rivaled Sam’s. “What,” he snapped. 

“Get the fuck up, you grumpy ass.” He turned his phone so Cas could read the text on the screen, and then not-so-discreetly threw a pillow over his lap.

“I thought your father was avoiding the both of you at this point in time. Is that Jessica?”

“Yeah, and so did I.” 

You: 6:52 a.m

>what do u mean?

Jess answered quickly.

J: 6:52 a.m

>his phone went to voicemail like 50 times b4 he decided to answer Sam

You: 6:53 a.m

>the hell did he say to him? 

J: 6:53 a.m 

>I don’t know!

>it had something to do w u

>Sam’s pissed

>now our friend Brady is acting weird bc Sam’s pissed 

>or maybe bc he heard like the whole convo

>he had 2 much 2 drink last night 

Well this complicated things, didn’t it. Dean had almost forgotten about Brady, the poor guy Azazel had taken a liking to first before he took his pedophile looking vessel as his meat suit. “Pack our bags, Cas. Looks like we’re heading to Stanford earlier than anticipated.” 

“What about our hunt?” 

The two of them had been tracking a pack of wolves to a small suburban town in Nevada. They just managed to pinpoint their lair last night before conking out. 

“We’ll finish it later. Yellow eyes is already there.” 

It made so much sense, how Azazel knew to go for Jess to get at Sam. Last time, he had been possessing Brady too. He was assuming, by proxy, that he was possessing him now as well. The fucker had been there the whole time, just waiting for the right time to strike. Dean’s plans of tactical invasion had been foiled once again. 

Castiel nodded, finally rolling off of the bed to kick his feathery ass into gear. He still didn’t look to happy about it, though.

You: 6:57 a.m

>thanks, J

>I’ll check in on him 

J: 6:58 a.m

>good luck w that 

>he broke his phone 

You know what they say: great minds think alike. He wasn’t telling her anything about rolling up to Stanford. He didn’t want to cause any unnecessary panic, especially to Sam. 

Dean didn’t know when Brady was going to make his move this time. unfortunately, the side effect of trying to change the past to better the future was a whole lot of changing the past to better the future. Doing one thing differently could snowball affect everything. Dean figured he would end up learning that the hard way.

The first time, Sam had never been on the phone with his dad, and Brady never had anything to overhear. He could attack tomorrow, for all Dean knew. 

You: 7:05 a.m

>give me the # to his main accnt 

>I’ll send cash his way for a new 1

Nobody had to know that all of the money Dean was sending them was the result of credit card fraud. 

J: 7:07 a.m

>k

> thank you :)

”Shall I fly us there?” Asked Cas. 

“Nah,” said Dean, immediately vetoing that idea, “last time I flew with you, I didn’t shit for a week. Not happening.”

”You are incorrigible. If you would just allow me to show you how to use your wings—“

”If I even have them,” he retorted pointedly.

”Which you do, because all angels have them.”

”What if I’m a freak hybrid or something?” 

“You’re not.” 

“How do you know?”

”I just do.” 

“How?”

”Dean Winchester, I will smite you where you stand.”

He and Cas stood nose to nose now, eyes narrowed menacingly at each other. Dean could feel his heart beating quickly. He could feel the slight hitch in Cas’ breath as his eyes flicked downward. Dean leaned in close, so close in fact, that their lips were damn near touching, and he knew exactly what he was doing. He waited for a moment, gauging Cas’ reaction. “We’re drivin,” he whispered, mouth splitting into a grin. He pulled back when he felt a hot breath ghost over his lips, and clapped Cas on the shoulder, “‘sides, angel. You gotta save your energy. You just got it back.” 

He squeezed his arm gently before throwing his duffel over his shoulder with ease. 

“I wish you would not do that,” mumbled Cas. 

Dean frowned, stopping in his tracks, “do what.” 

Cas shook his head, grabbing the other bag. A small smile crossed his lips, “nothing, Dean.” He breezed by him, that fucking smell of whisky still lingering.

______________________________________

“Alrighty, Cas. What’s the ETA?” Dean had just pulled out of the parking lot with a full tank of gas, and an arsenal readied in the truck for Azazel. 

“I do not understand that abbreviation,” said Cas as he fiddled with the radio. 

“How long ‘til we get to Stanford.” 

“Roughly three seconds if I were to fly us there.”

”How the hell would Sam and Jess react if we pulled up without a source of transportation? How long if we drive.” 

Cas rolled his eyes, “nonstop, nine hours. That is accounting for traffic stops.” Damn, Cas was like a built in angelic GPS.

Cas eventually stopped on some staticky station, a patchy language flowing through the speakers. Dean scoffed, “the hell is this, Mandarin? Why are they talking about the retail price on vacuums?” Dean froze when he realized what he just said. “What the hell? Last time I checked the only language I understood was English.” 

“Now you know all of them.” 

“What!” 

“It is simply the knowledge that comes with being an angel. Most of us know close to every language spoken on Earth, though there are some rather confusing words in what was called the ‘updated Urban Dictionary. I took the time to read it myself.” 

Dean gaped at Cas. What was he even supposed to do with that information? That seemed like a lot of knowledge for a single being to possess.

“Say something in Greek.” He demanded, eager to put this theory to the test.

Cas rolled his eyes fondly, “oi fakídes sou faínontai oraíes ston ílio.” 

The fact that Dean understand that word for word immediately was earth shattering to him. He was so going to mess with Sam using this one. The fun part? Dean can just play it off as him being smart, knowing that it would piss Sam off to no end. And the he turned bright red as he actually comprehended what Cas just said to him. “Dude,” he squeaked. “You can’t just go around saying shit like that to other guys.” 

“Why not? It is the truth. The sun makes your freckles stand out nicely in contrast to your skin.” 

Dean cleared his throat, focusing his attention back on the road. Inside, he was practically giddy from the compliment. Externally, he looked like an awkward mess. He didn’t know if he would ever express his feelings externally. 

John and a lot of his hunter buddies often made fun of Dean for his ‘pretty’ face. They never gave him too much shit since it seemed to work like a charm on the ladies, but his dad never failed to remind him of how it could present to the other guys. Realistically, Dean would rather look ‘pretty’ than like he’d had his face bashed in like most veteran hunters did. 

Cas’ words didn’t feel degrading. The angel had meant nothing but sincerity with them; but the feelings that Dean had been having for him lately were causing unwanted memories to resurface more and more every day. 

He glanced over at Cas as he rolled to a stop at a red light. He stared wistfully out the window, his eyes lit up with happiness despite the impending doom that they had been thrown into again. 

“There is a bumblebee on your side mirror,” Cas said giddily, turning to look at Dean with a wide grin. 

He threw back his head and laughed.

JESS

D: 12: 37 p.m

>Sam get the $?

You: 12:38 p.m

>yessir 

>he’s pissed

>I told him it came from my parents 

Jess didn’t think Sam would appreciate her talking to his brother, especially right now. Dean actually turned out to be a pretty great guy despite everything Sam said about him. Perhaps she was missing something.

Jess didn’t have a face to put to the name besides the childhood photo Sam had framed in their living room, but she could imagine that he looked a bit like their dad. His personality differed from Sam’s greatly, so she could only assume that his looks did too. 

Sam looked like his mom. He didn’t have any memories of her, but he always carried around a worn down photo of her in his wallet. She was a beautiful woman, long, flowing blonde hair, a kind smile. Somehow, it made sense that Dean would look more like their dad. 

D: 12:43 p.m

>how dare u lie to your bf! 

Jess snorted, quickly typing out her reply as she set down her laptop on the table of the coffee shop she always studied at. It was this tacky little place on a corner street, only big enough to seat about ten other people. The coffee there kept her alive, though.

You: 12:44 p.m

>I’m saving u from a lot of pain

>u should b thanking me 

D: 12:44 p.m

>yes ma’am 

Jess flipped her phone shut, letting out a huge yawn. She didn’t sleep very well last night. She had panicked when she came home to a missing Sam, only to feel very little relief when she saw his note on the fridge, (and the dent in the wall.)

He had stumbled back into the apartment at about three in the morning, smelling like a bar, and slurring his words to the point where she couldn’t understand him. 

Jess had never seen Sam like this before, it was starting to concern her. She knew that his personal life had always been a sore topic for him, so it was no doubt that the return of both his father and brother within the same week were weighing down on him. 

She was just worried, is all. 

Jess looked up when the little bell above the coffee shop dinged, and smiled when Brady trailed into the building, hands stuffed deep into his pockets. He had become a pretty close friend to both her and Sam, the three of them forming a kind of study group.

“Hey, Brady,” she said. 

He smiled coldly at her. She frowned, something about it seeming terribly off. “Good morning, Jessica.” 

She reeled back a bit at that. Nobody ever called her that, and Brady had never once called her by her full name. He’d been off ever since last night. Sam had drunkenly explained to her about how he swore Brady was following him home from the bar. At least Sam had been smart enough not to drive or something.

So, being the amazing girlfriend she was, she had patiently held his hair back as he threw up into the toilet, and explained that he was probably seeing things due to the liquor shop that he consumed. Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure. 

She carefully watched Brady as he ordered a black coffee. His posture was stiff, as if he were uncomfortable in his own body, and his clothes were strangely neat. He usually wore jeans or sweatpants, but today, he wore khakis and a dress shirt. His hair was combed and jelled neatly to one side. Wishful thinking, but maybe he had a job interview.

He politely thanked the cashier as she handed him his coffee, and left a generous tip in the jar for her. He winked at Jess on the way out the door, and she visibly shuddered, chills tingling down her spine. 

Something wasn’t right. 

Jess packed up her belongings, suddenly feeling unsafe at the coffee shop. 

She should get to class early instead.

JESS

Sam was asleep when she arrived home from class. This had been her latest one of the week, ending at nine o’clock at night. The others had all filled up quickly, but Jess didn’t mind the late ones all too much. The class only had a few other people in it, and the walk home always calmed her nerves. Usually.

She had been especially jumpy tonight, something about Brady had unnerved her before, and she often found herself looking over her shoulder to see if he was following her. Of course, she thought that she was being ridiculous. Maybe Brady was just having a rough day and didn’t intend to look like a creep. Happened to the best of them.

She toed her shoes off, leaving them in front of the door. She would put them away tomorrow. Sam was a clean freak and liked his shit organized; he was always on her about leaving her shoes out like that. 

Jess shrugged on a t-shirt to sleep in, trying to stay quiet so Sam wouldn’t wake up. He was spread out on their bed, facedown on the pillow, one arm hanging off the side of it. She grinned, sliding her phone out of her pocket to snap a picture, strictly for blackmail purposes. He let out a snort in his sleep.

When she was satisfied with the results, she set it down on her nightstand and slid under the covers beside him, Sam ripping out another snore while she did so. 

As she turned to face her boyfriend, a feeling of uneasiness washed over her, the same one she felt at Brady’s chilling smile. It was nothing, she kept repeating in her head. She slid herself a bit closer to Sam, finding a bit of comfort in his warmth. There was nothing to worry about. 

Jess sighed, her eyes trailing to the ceiling, watching the shadows of a tree branch outside their window dance across it. She tried to calm herself, her gaze following it to the window. And then her eyes met those of Brady, as he stared at her directly though the fucking window.

Jess gasped, jumping enough to jarr Sam awake. “Jess?” He mumbled groggily, his arm tiredly feeling out to the side for her, “wassit?”

She gripped his arm, “Brady,” she gasped. “I saw him.” 

Sam frowned, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he tried to understand Jess’s rambling. “What do you mean?” 

Her eyes settled on the window again, but there was nothing there except the shadows of the branches. “I could have sworn…” she said, trailing off. Her heart pounded in her chest. 

“You’re just tired, Jess,” said Sam soothingly, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her back down onto the bed. “You’ve been overworking yourself. Come here.” 

Sam drew her in close, and she buried her face into his chest. Maybe he was right; she could just be imaging it. Jess knew she was a bit behind on the sleep she could definitely have. 

She closed her eyes, trying to calm her racing mind and heart. She gripped Sam’s shirt with her hand. There was nothing to worry about. 

She repeated that mantra to herself as she drifted off to sleep, that feeling of uneasiness still twisting violently inside of her stomach. 

______________________________________

Jess woke to a jarring feeling traveling down her spine, almost as though she’d stuck her finger into a light socket. She sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes opening to focus on Sam’s chest. She didn’t dare move. 

It was like her fight or flight response activated in her sleep, the kind of feeling you get when you wake up with your heart racing from a bad dream. She felt rooted to the spot, her muscles frozen, tense.

Jess felt a breath ghost over the back of her neck, and then terror flew through her body. She still didn’t dare move. She and Sam were not alone in here. BRADY, her mind screamed. Jess swallowed hard as she felt another breath on the back of her neck, holding back tears. 

She gripped Sam’s arm under the covers, praying that he would wake the hell up now. 

Jess tried not to tense when she heard the sound of soft footsteps padding on the carpet behind her. Oh God, she was going to throw up. She squeezed Sam’s arm harder, and he grunted, rolling over to his other side. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She squeezed her eyes shut.

The footsteps stopped.

Jess tried to keep her breathing even, tried not to give anything away. 

“I know you’re awake,” hissed that venomous voice that she knew so well. “I know you know I’m here.” 

And slowly, so slowly, Jess cracked her eyes open. Poisonous yellow ones stared directly back at her. She couldn’t help it. She screamed. Because that thing standing there, that was not Brady. 

Sam shot into a sitting position next to her, his eyes flying open. The pillow that he had been hugging thumped uselessly onto the ground. Jess screamed again when Brady let out a cackling laugh, his white teeth gleaming as the moonlight caught on them. 

“Jess!” Cried Sam, his head whipping around in confusion. He was no doubt still half asleep. Then his gaze settled on Brady, his eyes flashing yellow again.

”Heya, Sammy,” he snarled. 

“What the fuck are you!” Barked Sam. Jess scampered out of the bed and away from Brady.

“Somebody you hoped to never see again.” 

“No,” breathed Sam, something seeming to dawn in him. “You—“

And then Jess felt her back slamming into the wall behind her, her body momentarily going weightless. Her breath left her lungs in a sharp burst, and she felt hot tears falling down her face. “Sam!” She begged. She was so confused. What was happening? 

”Let her go, you fucker!” Sam screamed, lunging for Brady, brandishing nothing but a paperweight with a cat’s face on it from his nightstand.

Sam met a similar fate as Jess, getting flung into the opposite wall by a seemingly invisible force. Jess clawed at her throat as the pressure surrounding it got tighter and tighter, the wall behind her growing painfully hot. She was going to die, she realized. She and Sam were going to die right here, right now, and there was nothing either of them could do about it. 

Brady advanced on Jess, demonic smile on his face as his venomous yellow eyes bore into her soul. “Jessica,” he said. “Jessica Moore,” he dragged out her name disgustingly, and she sobbed, her voice cracking painfully as it grated against her throat. “Don’t take this personally,” he purred. “I suppose we could call this Sam’s early character development.” 

“Jess!” Sam roared from where he was still pinned to the wall. She could see the veins popping in his neck as he tried to break away.

“What are you?” she croaked, the words barely leaving her mouth. She was starting to see black spots in her vision, and her back was starting to burn. 

Brady leaned in close, close enough where she could feel his stale breath on her skin again. “Hell,” he whispered, his dry lips brushing her ear. 

And then an earth shattering shot rang out, just as she felt Brady’s sickening fingers close around her neck, Brady getting blasted away from Jess with record speed. And just like that, the pressure was gone, and Jess’s knees were slamming into the ground. She heaved for air, fat tears falling from her face. She wanted to curl up on the floor and never get up, but Brady was still in the room with her, and she couldn’t let him hurt Sam.

As Jess shakily got to her hands and knees, another figure flew into the room, “SAMMY!” He roared, heavy boots thudding over the ground. Why did that sound so familiar? Her vision threatened to tunnel as she sucked in more air desperately, her fingers clenching against the throw carpet.

Jess screamed as a hand clamped over her arm, hauling her to her feet. She kicked and clawed at the hand, and the person attached to it. No. No, no, no. 

“Sam!” She screamed again. 

“Hey!” Shouted the figure, the hand still right around her arm, “calm down there, J. Your boytoy’s okay.” 

Sam entered her peripheral, and Jess finally focused on the face in front of her. The steel grip on her arm loosened. When she looked behind him, Brady was gone like he’d never been there in the first place. The place was trashed, though. There was a hole in the wall from where Jess had slammed into it, the vase of flowers on her dresser was shattered, and there was a gunshot hole in the opposing wall. “Dean,” breathed Sam behind her. 

“Dean,” she repeated, dumbstruck. This was Dean. The Dean. The one that had been several states away not even a day ago.

The man in front of her wasn’t what she expected at all. He did look like their father, but… kinder. He had a handsome face much like Sam, his hair cropped much shorter, with a smattering of freckles over his nose. His eyes were green, she noted. 

“Long time no see,” he said, flashing her a grin. 

“You’re holding a shotgun,” she said stupidly. 

“I am.”

”You shot Brady.” 

“That wasn’t Brady, sweetheart.” 

“Dean,” said Sam again, just as shocked as she was, “you’re here.” 

“We gotta go, Samantha,” he said, cutting straight to the point, “or that fucker’s comin’ back tomorrow night, and the next, and… you get the point. Let’s go.” 

“I can’t just get up and leave,” said Sam weakly. “I have a life here, Dean.” 

“Well, it’s over now. C’mon!” He gestured for them to follow him, eyes wild. “I’m almost outta damn rock-salt.” 

Sam wordlessly grabbed the nearest bag to him, throwing some of his and Jess’s belongings into it. What was happening? She must be in shock. This had to be some sort of fever dream. Maybe she got hit by a campus bus or something, and she was in a medically induced coma. At least she would get a hell of a lot of money from the lawsuit that came from that.

“Jess,” said Dean, firmly, but not harshly. “We have to leave.” She realized she had absently been staring at her shattered vase.

“What was that?” She said meekly, her voice barely a whisper. “He… it threw me against a wall…. With its mind.” 

“Demon,” he said casually, “newsflash, I ain’t a cop.” Yeah, she gathered that.

Sam grabbed her hand, his eyes fixed on his brother’s back as they made their way out of the building. The commotion had caused a few nearby students to emerge from their rooms, gazing at them curiously. 

“What’re you lookin’ at, assholes?” Dean barked. 

Jess let herself be dragged like a dog on a leash into an alleyway, where an absolute monster of a car was parked. 

“What is this, Dean?” said Sam. “Two damn years, and you conveniently show up when this asshole does. Explain, now.” 

“Tracked it here. Knew he was comin’ for you. Guess dad wasn’t useless after all.” 

Dean threw open the truck of the car, lifting up a false bottom to revel an entire fucking arsenal. Her jaw hit the ground. That was entirely unexpected.

“I’m not bringing her into this,” said Sam. 

Dean slammed his shotgun down into the truck and Jess winced, “she already has been, Sammy. In case you haven’t noticed, he came for her specifically. We need to get the hell outta dodge.” 

“I’m only doing this for Jess, Dean,” said Sam, seeming to realize that he wasn’t going to win whatever argument this was. She still didn’t have the slightest bit of an idea what they were taking about. 

And for the third time that night, a figure emerged from nowhere. Jess was quick to grab the nearest thing from Dean’s truck, which happened to be a sledgehammer. She was ready to bash in the skull of whatever the fuck else tried her tonight. 

“Woah, hey!” Said Dean, grabbing it right from her hands as she was mid-swing. “He’s a friendly.” 

“We both know I would have been fine,” said a gravely voice. 

It belonged to that of a man wearing a canvass jacket and jeans. He was also rather handsome, his dark hair accenting bright blue eyes. 

“Who the hell is this?” Demanded Sam. 

“Uh… Sam, Cas, Cas, Sam.”

”Wait a damn minute!” Barked Sam, “say something,” he demanded at ‘Cas.’ Jess felt like crying. This was too much yelling for one night.

“Like what?” He asked, confused. 

“That’s enough. You’re Jimmy,” he deadpanned. 

“Yes…” 

“Why the hell did you give me a fake name, Dean?” Asked Sam. 

“I panicked, okay? Can we please go now?” 

“Go where!” Sam almost screamed, looking hysterical. “Go where and do what, huh? Jess almost died tonight.” 

“Bobby’s,” Dean determined. 

“Whose Bobby?” She asked. 

“Nobody,” said Sam dismissively, “a friend.” Nobody. Jess was starting to get pissed off.

“Alright, children, everyone in, it’s time for a road trip,” Dean urged, ushering everyone into the car with flapping hands. It was obvious he was done explaining for the night. And it was good timing too, because she heard police sirens in the distance. Students were starting to trickle out of the dorm and apartment buildings, muttering to themselves.

Jess wordlessly climbed into the back with Sam, her adrenaline rush from before finally wearing off. She held back the tears pricking at her eyes as her hands shook. “You said Brady was a demon back there,” she said. “What did you mean?” 

“What I said, basically,” said Dean, the engine coming to life as he twisted the key in the fob. She observed Cas cock his head at Dean curiously.

”There’s no such thing,” she said determinedly.

”You really gonna try to tell me that after tonight, J?” 

She clenched her teeth together, glancing out the window as Dean rumbled down the road. This couldn’t be happening. Jess had never really been the religious type, but she did believe in God. The one thing she never believed in were demons, ghosts, the general horror story creatures. 

Tonight made her question everything. 

And apparently, Dean wasn’t a cop. 

SAM

Jess was somehow asleep next to him, her head resting against the window. 

Sam was still in a state of shock at what had just happened. He didn’t even have time to fully comprehend it before Dean was in his apartment blasting some demon away from him, and shoving him and Jess into a car with Jimmy, now Cas.

He almost laughed, almost. 

Dean was silent the whole time they had been in the car so far. Cas didn’t help either, he just stared out the window like the outside world was the most fascinating thing in the world.

Sam took a moment to study his brother through the rear view mirror. He looked different. He couldn’t quiet place it, but there was something different about him. Maybe it was the way he carried himself. 

He frowned when he saw the hint of a tattoo peeking out from under the collar of his shirt. He couldn’t make anything out, but it must have been a big tattoo because it matched on the other side too. Since when was Dean into that kind of stuff? 

Two years, his brain reminded him. Right. 

Don’t get him wrong, he was glad to see Dean again, just not under these particular circumstances. Sam had just dropped everything he’d worked so hard for without a second thought. He was doing it for Jess, he knew that much. Not for Dean, nor for himself. For Jess. Dean had been right in saying that the creature had come for her specifically. He couldn’t let that happen again. 

How the hell Dean managed to track a demon here was beyond him; but he would begrudgingly admit that he did save their lives. 

Cas unnerved him a bit. It weirded him out that Dean was hunting with anyone besides their father, who was currently AWOL, by the way. It shocked him even more that Dean didn’t seem to care all that much either. He practically worshipped the ground that he walked on, last Sam checked.

“I can feel you staring, Sam,” Dean drawled, “spit it out.” 

“Why now?” he practically spat. “Why me?” 

“That’s a question for the demon.” 

“A demon,” Sam breathed, “a demon is what killed mom.” 

“Yeah,” said Dean shortly, “how’d you know it was him, though?” 

“A hunch? Or the fact that he pretty much told me.” 

Dean snorted, rolling his eyes. “Hey,” he said suddenly, batting at Cas’ hand as he fiddled with the radio, “don’t be messing my shit up.”

”There was no shit to mess up to begin with,” he said, glowering at Dean. 

“There’s always shit to mess up, Cas,” said Dean. 

“So… Cas,” said Sam, rudely butting in on their conversation. 

“Castiel.” 

“What?” 

“My name. It is Castiel. I would prefer if you called me that, if it’s alright.” 

“Uh… okay.” Sam swallowed nervously. Jeez, something was off about him. Where had Dean even managed to pick this one up from to begin with? 

“You know Dean for long?” 

“About two years,” he said confidently. 

Dean laughed next to him, though it sounded more like a pained squawk, “yep! Two whole years,” and then he shot Castiel this look. Sam decided not to read too much into it.

“Wow,” said Sam, “so a while then, huh?” 

“Dude’s my best friend,” said Dean, slapping Castiel on the shoulder. Sam saw something almost sad pass through his brother’s eyes through the mirror, though he wasn’t sure why. 

“Y’know, your girl’s kind of a badass,” said Dean after a moment. 

Sam smiled, “I know.” 

“Hell, she was ready to bash in Cas’ brains over here after getting demon flung.” 

“She’s something, that’s for sure,” said Sam, smiling again. He placed a hand on her leg as she continued to sleep, more to ground himself than anything. “How far are we from Bobby’s?” 

“Four hours, give or take. Gotta make a stop to refill my ammo and shit first, though.” 

“So you’ve been hunting a lot then?” 

“Yes,” said Castiel. “We have.” 

“Any more demons?” He asked curiously. 

“Just one,” said Dean. 

Sam furrowed his brows. Dean had managed to survive a demon by himself. Well, with strange, apparently not new, friend. It’s been a while since they caught up, Sam had no idea what his brother’s been through until then. 

“Dean! There’s another bee,” exclaimed Castiel suddenly. “She just landed on your window.” 

That struck Sam as a rather odd thing to say, but he was shocked when Dean just laughed along. The Dean he knew would have made fun of him relentlessly. Maybe people did mature over time. 

“Gonna name this one too?” 

“She looks like a Sheila,” Castiel said seriously. Sam couldn’t help but crack a smile at his strange antics too. 

It didn’t last long. 

Sam didn’t know what he had just gotten himself into. 

DEAN

For the sake of Sam and Jess, they had stopped at a hotel for the night, just so they could rejuvenate before they went to see Bobby. Honestly, they just needed a safe spot to keep Jess while Azazel was still alive. Dean could only assume that he would continue to come after her until she was dead, so the underground, salt lined panic room seemed like a fantastic idea.

Dean had just been winging this so far, and it wasn’t going as terribly as he thought it would. Everyone was still alive, albeit a bit pissed, (he was talking about Sam). “Two rooms,” he said to the clerk at the front desk, an older woman that had the permanent smell of cigars floating around her. 

“Both with two doubles?” She rasped out, shooting Cas a look. 

“Yes,” he said, narrowing his eyes. 

She just grunted, reaching under the desk to produce two keys with the room number tagged onto the ends of them. “Enjoy your stay,” she said, “can’t guarantee they didn’t clean the roaches outta the bathrooms, though.” 

Dean chose to ignore that statement, Jess did not. 

“Roaches!” She cried. 

“Well, it’s either bugs, or yellow eyes back there. You choose,” said Dean. He didn’t mean to be short with her, he was honestly just exhausted. Dean needed sleep (or at least he thought he did), and he hadn’t really established a solid plan of what they were going to do after Bobby’s. 

Jess just snatched the key from his hand, and shook her head, mumbling something about Sam having a lot to explain later. Dean was sure he would fill her in when they parted ways for the night. And just in case he didn’t plan on it, Dean shot Sam a pointed looked before unlocking his own room. 

“Don’t forget the salt lines,” he said, tossing a duffel at his brother. He caught the bag with ease, letting out a sigh.

“What’re they for?” He heard Jess ask as he dragged Cas into their room. 

When the door clicked shut behind them, Dean stared at it for a minute, letting out a long breath, and then immediately drew Cas into a hug. He was surprised at how easily the angel returned it. “Are you alright, Dean?” He asked. He asked that a lot these days.

“Yeah, dude,” he mumbled into Cas’ shoulder, “I’m just great.”

”You are lying.”

Dean snorted, letting his forehead thump against Cas’ collarbone. His hands tightened against the back of his jacket. “You know me too well, man. This was a little more chaotic than I was hoping for. I’m just glad everyone’s alive and mostly in one piece.”

Cas nodded, rubbing a soothing circle on his back, “as am I. I like Jessica,” he said. “I think that she is a lot stronger than we might give her credit for.” 

“I give her lots of credit,” snorted Dean, “In less that twelve hours, she almost got murdered by a demon, sort of got kidnapped by us, and left behind everything she and Sam built together. It kinda sucks ass,” he said. 

“That is rather unfortunate,” Cas observed. “But you do not give yourself enough credit either.” 

Dean pulled away from him with a frown, “what do you mean.” 

“This is Sam,” said Cas, “but not the one you left behind. You miss him,” he said, a sad smile crossing his face, “I do too.” 

Dean could feel his eyes fall to his feet, “yeah. I guess you’re right. It just ain’t the same, Cas. It’s such a strange feeling to be back here, already knowing what’s gonna happen. Sam’s smart. He’s gonna start to suspect something after a while.” 

Cas nodded, agreeing with him. “You are correct, but until then, we shall just do our best to keep things ‘leveled out,’ as you would say. We keep things neutral.”

Dean stared at Cas, “you did not just use finger quotes.” 

“What is wrong with that?”

”Dude!” Cried Dean, all tension leaving his body just like that, “that’s so fucking stupid.” He couldn’t help the slightly hysterical laugh that bubbled past his lips. The gravity of the whole situation was finally starting to dawn on him, and he just continued to be in a stage of half denial. Part of him was hoping this was some sort of fucked up prank on Gabriel’s end, and he would just wake up in an abandoned building somewhere. 

“Why are you laughing?” said Cas, his lips turned down into a pout. “I hardly think it was funny.” 

“Stop your damn pouting,” said Dean, grinning as he patted Cas’ cheek. “Gonna hit the shower. Hopefully the roaches evicted themselves.” And then he paused, frowning, “actually, I should probably call Bobby first to let him know we’re comin’.”

”That would be the smart thing to do,” agreed Cas. 

Dean hummed to himself as he scrolled through his contacts. According to his phone, the last time he called Bobby was over a year ago. He couldn’t quiet remember why, but he hoped that they parted on good terms. 

The phone barely even rang before Bobby picked up. 

“Dean?” 

“Hey, Bobby,” he said. “Long time no talk?” 

“The hell are you callin’ me for, boy?” He hissed. “Your daddy bail on you again?”

”Yes, but that’s beside the point. We need your help with something.”

Bobby paused on the other end of the line, “alright, shoot.” 

“Just picked up Sammy and his girl, Jess, from Stanford. Same thing that killed mom came after Jess. Now we need some place safe to stay.”

”Fuck,” said Bobby, “you’re serious?” 

“Dead. Just calling to warm you that we’re comin’ one way or another. Dunno if the demon’s going to keep searching for Jess.” 

“What makes you think I’ve got somewhere for her to stay?” 

“Because you’re Bobby. Of course you do.”

There was a vague grunt that sounded more like a stifled curse. “alright. But make it snappy, don’t keep mucking around in some shifty motel. You’re basically sitting ducks.” 

“Loud and clear, Bobby. We’ll be there around nine in the morning tomorrow.”

”See you then, Dean. Good luck, and stay safe.” 

Dean tossed the phone into his chosen bed without another word, once against making a beeline for the bathroom. “I would like to shower as well,” said Cas. 

“Then I’ll make it quick,” he said, yawning hugely. 

“You said last time that we would share to save the hot water,” Cas deadpanned. “Is there enough for the both of us?”

Dean had to give himself credit for not choking on nothing this time. God, Cas was going to kill him. “Yeah, there’s enough, Cas.” He rasped.

”Very well. Enjoy your shower.” He didn’t miss the way that Cas narrowed his eyes at him. He almost looked dangerous.

Fuck, Dean was going to have a heart attack if he kept saying that stuff. It had very much peaked the interest of his dick, because it was at that confused in between state of ‘in distress but also half-hard.’ 

He closed the door gently, yet quickly, behind him, because he was pretty sure it would fly off of its hinges if he slammed it. He still didn’t know his own strength yet. He glanced at his face in the mirror, thinning his lips at the lack of stubble there. All functions seemed to have slowed down; his need for food, sleep, the rate at which his five o’clock shadow grew. It was all kind of unnerving. 

He turned his jaw from side to side, still amazed at how youthful he looked. He honestly couldn’t complain at that part. Maybe Chuck wasn’t entirely useless in this situation.

As Dean was slipping out of his shirt, the door flew open, slamming against the wall, Cas standing determinedly in the doorway.

”Dude, what the hell!” Dean cried, his shirt landing on the ground as it slipped out of his hands. He felt ridiculous as his hands came up to cover his chest like he had tits or something.

Cas walked all up into his personal space, eyes flashing dangerously. Dean’s back hit the opposing wall, smushed in between the sink and the shower. “Are you just going to pretend like nothing happened, Dean?” He asked. 

Dean swallowed nervously, “w-what do you mean?” He croaked out. 

Cas jabbed him in the chest, his finger sinking into the soft flesh there, “That,” he hissed, “that is exactly what I mean. You know exactly what I am talking about.” 

“Cas…” he said. 

“You were drunk,” continued Cas, “but I was not. I remember every, little, detail,” his face was so close to Dean’s that he could feel his breath, and— what the fuck! No! His traitorous dick was feeling very differently about his situation than his brain was. 

Cas paused in his rant to follow Dean’s gaze down to when it rested on his embarrassingly tented pants. A small smirk crossed over the angel’s face. Dean found himself getting pissed off at it for no reason. “Ah,” said Cas, “I see.” 

“You see what,” challenged Dean. Two could play it that game. 

“You are aroused,” he said, almost like it was an accomplishment. His eyes met Dean’s, laced with victorious amusement. Asshole.

“And so what if I am?” 

Cas opened his mouth to reply, but it just flapped shut uselessly. Dean grinned when he realized that he had him backed into a corner. The line between ‘something else,’ and ‘dude, panic, this is something else,’ was thinning real fast. “Dean,” said Cas, his eyes impossibly wide.

And then, to thin that line just a little bit more, (who was he kidding, he completely fucking destroyed it), he grabbed the lapels of Cas’ jacket a little more aggressively than necessary, and smashed their lips together. 

Was it sloppy? Yes. There was no grace whatsoever in his actions. Their teeth clicked together, and Cas barely even had time to react, his own lips going slack. Cas made a surprised noise, his hand weakly grasping Dean’s arm.

When he pulled away, Cas’ mouth was hanging open in shock, his eyes remaining wide. Dean was still gripping his jacket. 

“Newsflash, Cas. You weren’t the only one that remembered it. Now let me take my damn shower.” 

With that, he shoved the starstruck angel out of the bathroom, and closed the door with enough force for paint chips to fall form the already decomposing walls. God, what was he thinking? That was very not smart of him, his brain helpfully supplied.

He turned the water on, shucked off the rest of his clothes, and stood in the freezing cold spray until he started to shiver. His dick refused to give up its battle, though. He groaned, looking down at the damn thing, knowing exactly what was about to go down. 

Never, ever, would he admit to jacking off to an image of Cas looking pissed off in his mind. It was unbelievably hot, for no apparent reason. Tits! He tried to say. Angel dick! Screamed his brain.

So when he walked out of the bathroom, acting like nothing had happened, Cas eyed him menacingly from where he sat with a book spread open on his lap. Dean grinned at him, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

“Kinda warm in here, isn’t it, Cas?” 

The latter betrayed no emotion, still staring at him. 

Dean knew he was being an asshole. He stripped to his boxers, slowly, and then pulled back the covers of his bed. He could feel Cas’ gaze on him the entire time. 

“Gonna hit the hay,” he said, “I recommend you do the same.” 

“Do you have the slightest idea what you are doing to me?” Asked Cas, his voice low. 

“What?” Asked Dean innocently, he stretched his arms above his head, and he heard Cas’ breath hitch. “What am I doing, Cas?” 

He grinned when Cas continued to glare at him. Dean should have expected what came next, he was asking for it, really. Cas suddenly appeared in front of him, the flutter of his wings being the only indicator that he had moved at all. 

He cursed when Cas’ hand closed around his jaw, forcing Dean to look up at him. “Tell me to stop,” he said. His grip tightened a bit more, and Dean’s heart pounded in his chest. “Tell me, right now, to stop.” He leaned in close, his breath hot, the smell of whiskey stronger than ever. He wondered if he tasted like it too.

“No,” said Dean, turning his chin up the best he could in its jailed position. He grinned. He was not going to lose this fight.

The look in Cas’ eyes could be described as wild. One second, he was grinning up at a flustered angel, the next, with just a snap of Cas’ fingers, he was fucking naked with an angel in his lap.

He cursed loudly, not even having time to comprehend what was happening before Cas was fucking devouring him. His brain second handedly noted that he did in fact taste like whiskey. His lips were hot, and persistent, and he was still stronger than Dean was.

“Take your damn pants off,” snapped Dean as soon as Cas pulled away for a breath. “I hardly see how this is fair.” 

“No,” he said, mischievous grin snaking across his face. The motherfucker, using Dean’s own tactics against him. 

The weight of Cas in his lap was enough to wake up his dick again. Dean had no damn idea what was happening, or even how it began, but he was not about to tell Cas to stop. 

Cas then proceeded to wrap his hand around his dick, and pleasure rocketed through his body. Okay, maybe he should tell him to stop now, because Dean had never been intimate like this with a man, and had no damn idea what he was doing. But when Cas started kissing his jawline, his tongue trailing down it, that thought immediately evicted his mind. 

“God, don’t stop,” he said. Stop! Screamed Brain.

Who knew the nerdy little guy had it in him. As far as Dean was concerned, Cas had never been intimate with anyone in his life. Consider him shocked.

“The hell did you learn this?” Dean gasped as Cas sped up his pace. His hand was hot, and Dean was in a pleasure and confusion induced haze.

“I did research,” Cas mumbled against his skin.

The mental image of Cas sitting in front of a computer, face nothing but serious, watching gay porn, was enough to send him over the edge. He gasped as he came on the spot, Cas grinning as he dipped his head forward to capture his lips again. He pushed back against the angel, shooting his tongue into his mouth, because dammit, he was not going to let Cas have all the fun here.

This was the single most confusing but arousing experience of his life. 

And just like that, Cas was climbing off of his lap, wiping his hand across the bedsheets like it was the most casual thing in the world. 

“What the fuck?” Dean stuttered out, dumbfounded, his chest heaving as he came down from his high. 

He was sitting naked, confused, yet somehow satisfied, on the shittiest mattress known to mankind. His brain was flying in all kinds of directions. One; Cas just made out with him. Two; Cas just jerked him off and then made out with him again. Three; Cas was a dude. 

“You cannot say that I was the one that started that,” said Cas. And okay, fair enough. Dean had been provoking him while knowing exactly what he was doing to Cas in the process.

“How long, man?” He asked. “I didn’t even… I thought you weren’t into that… stuff.” He finished weakly.

Cas shrugged, suddenly looking sheepish, his badass ‘angel of the sex gods’ composure all but gone. “I am more complex than you think, Dean,” he muttered, “When you kissed me before Lucifer, it made me realize something.” 

“Realize what?” Dean pressed. 

“I suppose I could say that I had romantic intentions towards you for quite some time, I just refused to acknowledge it because it was against my nature.” 

“Please don’t call it romantic intentions,” Dean groaned. 

“Then what would you like me to call it? I wanted to ‘jack you off’ as you would say? Then yes.” 

Dean flushed a bright red, his ears burning. He cleared his throat. “Yeah…,” he said, “uh… me-me too.” He was so bad at this. 

Dean almost melted when he saw hope light up in the angel’s eyes, “really?” Really…? He had just manhandled Dean’s dick and he was still questioning if Dean was even interested or not?

“Yeah, man. I guess. I was just confused I think. I’ve never really found a dude attractive before. It thought that I was just deprived of sex at first.” 

Cas shot him a sour look. 

“But!” He said before Cas could smite him or something, “I think I just liked you.” It was a lot easier saying it than he thought. It only took letting Cas jerk him off to admit it. “Just… we can’t tell Sam yet. We don’t really even know each other yet. At least not in this timeline.”

Cas nodded in understanding. “Very well. It shall remain a secret as long as you want it to.” Dean didn’t even know what this was. What was Cas to him now? Obviously, more than a friend. Two dudes don’t just handle each other’s dicks in literally any platonic scenario. Dean wasn’t ready to put a label to it. Not yet. He still had some things to work out himself. 

Don’t fuck it up, asshole. Said his brain. I’m trying my best! He shot back at it. 

Cas stood there awkwardly for a moment, kind of just staring at a spot on the ground. Dean sighed, screw it, “the hell are you doing standing there, man? Just come here.” 

“What?” He looked genuinely confused. Did he seriously think that he was only good enough for a jerk-off?

“Dude.” Dean grabbed Cas’ arm, physically dragging him down onto the bed beside him. Leave it to him to read between the lines, but only upon his own terms. 

Cas gave a surprised, ‘oh!’ as Dean threw an arm over his waist. “This never leaves this room. You hear me?” He said against the back of his neck.

Cas just chuckled, the vibrations of his laughter traveling through Dean’s body, “yes, Dean.” 

“Good. Don’t move too much. I need my four fucking hours.” Dean hid his smile against Cas’ back. 

He was so fucked. 

DEAN 

They didn’t talk about it.

When Dean blearily cracked his eyes open the next morning, he froze as a warm puff of air hit the skin on his neck. The skin there was damp, meaning that Cas had probably been there a while. 

He didn’t think that Cas needed to sleep, nevertheless, the angel was passed out next to him, an arm thrown over Dean’s naked waist, and his leg wedged between his thighs. His head rested in the crook of his neck like it was made to be there. 

Dean froze, breath hitching. Don’t panic said his brain. He tried not to. Don’t. Panic.

The memories from last night flashed through his mind; their little fallout in the bathroom before Dean decided to be an asshole that led to him then being jerked off in the most violating and arousing way possible. 

Oh shit. 

He didn’t regret it. He didn’t. But now he had to address it because he knew Cas definitely would. The angel always got straight to the point, while Dean mastered the tactics of avoidance. 

Don’t fuck it up! Screamed his brain. He remembered it saying something similar to that last night. 

Dean’s phone vibrated on the dresser next to him. He glanced over at the clock illuminated next to it, the time reading 5:12. They should leave soon. 

His movement had caused Cas to stir, the angel letting out an annoyed grunt as his arm tightened around Dean’s waist. “Cas,” he whispered, shaking him a bit. Cas groaned again, mumbling something unintelligible. 

“Dude, we have to get up.” 

“No,” said Cas, “I’m warm.” 

“And we have to get to Bobby’s.” Cas still didn’t move, “Casss,” urged Dean, “come on.”

When he didn’t move again, Dean grinned, hooking his leg around Cas’ and flipping them quickly so he had him pinned to the bed, his arms holding Cas’ above his head. Fuck it, Dean didn’t have time to freak out about this. That was for later when he had time to think. He had worse things to worry about. The angel’s eyes shot open in surprise. 

“Good morning,” said Dean, “get the fuck up.”

”You’re on top of me,” he deadpanned, ever the literal asshole he was.

Dean rolled his eyes, throwing all caution to the wind as he kissed the tip of Cas’ nose and rolled off of him. “Well, now I’m not.”

”I never told you to get off,” Cas grumbled.

Dean became horribly aware that he was still naked as he stood up to put something on. Cas shamelessly stared at him, and he blushed a deep red, clearing his throat dismissively. “The hell did you zap my clothes too?” He mumbled absently as he looked around the room. 

“I prefer you without them.” Holy fuck, he was a shameless flirt too. Dean’s heart was pounding, still totally definitely not freaking out. 

Why was he freaking out? Because he had been happy. Everyone Dean ever cared for got ripped away from him in the most brutal ways possible, and they always ended up dead. If that happened to Cas… he couldn’t. He couldn’t let his guard down. It was the Winchester curse, he used to joke with Sam. They always come out on top, but everyone else ended up six feet under.

He jumped, his clothes reappearing on his body as Cas snapped his fingers. “You have to teach me that one,” he said absently. 

He finally grabbed his phone, a message on the screen from Sam asking if he was awake. He quickly shot one back, telling him to be up and out of the room in five minutes. 

“You’re overthinking it,” said Cas suddenly. 

Dean blanched, “what? I’m not.” 

“Yes you are. You have that look on your face.” 

He crossed his arms, frowning, “what look.” 

“That one.”

”Waddya mean? This is just my face.” 

Cas rolled his eyes, “it doesn’t need to be complicated, Dean. I choose to ignore the labels that humanity puts on relationships. Can two people that care about each other simply not be intimate with the other?”

Dean swallowed heavily, the muscles in his jaw tensing, “yeah. Yeah, I guess you're right”. 

Dean knew first hand how cruel people could be. His father was John Winchester, after all; the single most homophobic man he had ever met in his entire life. It was no wonder Dean was so skittish. 

“I’m sorry, Cas,” he said. 

He gave him confused a half smile, “for what?”

”This must be hard for you. I’m kinda an asshole about this, and we both know that probably wasn’t gonna be my last assholish moment.”

”I know,” he said simply. A lot was left to be said with those two words, but it was enough for Dean for now. 

Sam was already waiting for them with Jess when they exited the room. Dean grinned at them, “mornin’ Sammy!” He chirped, his voice only about an octave higher than he should be.

Part of him half expected Sam to look him dead in the eyes and say, “I know Cas jacked you off last night,” or maybe something along the lines of what John would have said, “pussy. You a fairy now, Dean?” He swallowed nervously, but Sam just rolled his eyes at him. 

“Getting your beauty sleep?”

”Shut up, princess. Can’t say shit until your hair is shorter than mine.” 

“Not gonna happen, jerk.” 

“Bitch.”

It was almost too familiar; this little exchange between them. As much as Dean loved his brother, he was still mourning the loss of the one that he lost, the one that he’d spent the last five or so years creating memories with. 

“Can we please act our ages?” Scoffed Jess. 

Sam huffed, but wrapped his arm around her shoulders anyway. Cas smiled at their exchange before looking at Dean, something akin to sadness flashing through his eyes so fast that Dean almost missed it. He knew exactly what he was thinking; he wanted them to have what Sam and Jess did. He wanted to be able to put his arm around Dean in public knowing that he wouldn’t shrug him off if he got uncomfortable with the attention they received. Dean swallowed a lump in his throat and averted his gaze.

”Does Bobby know we’re coming?” Asked Sam. 

Dean nodded as they checked out of the hotel. He tried to give the hotel clerk a friendly smile, knowing damn well that she didn’t clean shit in that room they slept in last night. She just snatched the keys from him with a slightly grubby hand and barked out the price he owed her. “I called him before I hit the hay. He’s gonna have a lot of questions,” said Dean. “You fill Jess in on our extracurriculars?”

Sam thinned his lips, glancing over at his girlfriend. She puffed her chest out a little bit, “it’s cool,” she said, and then blushed, “thanks for saving our asses.” 

Dean snorted, “that’s my every other Tuesday. No problemo, J.” Dean found himself more and more impressed at her resilience. She accepted it, just like that. Though he knew that she was probably internally panicking. It showed as they drove, her constant fidgeting, glancing out the window to distract herself, fixing her hair.

He snuck a look as Cas in the passenger seat, the angel gazing wistfully at the trees. He looked surreal, something about him calming this constant turmoil spinning inside of Dean. And when Cas gave him a strange look at his hidden smile, he ignored him, just shaking his head with a fond eye roll. 

“So demons,” Jess blurted out about forty five minutes outside of Bobby’s. 

“Demons,” he said. 

“I can’t believe they’re actually real,” she said. “All this time,” she laughed. “I don’t think I’d ever be able to live a normal live knowing all those things are out there.” 

“Sam sure tried,” said Dean. He winced when he noticed the way his brother’s face fell. Dick move on his end, “but you can’t blame him. It sucks ass, the life we lived.” He noticed Cas’ hand twitch next to him on the seat. Dean swallowed heavily. He knew that Cas knew all about his fantastic childhood. He didn’t hide the blatant hatred that he harbored for his father. Cas didn’t look his way as his hand twitched again. 

Dean glanced back in the mirror, Sam and Jess wrapped around each other as they rested their eyes. Her blonde head was tucked under his chin as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Dean’s hand tightened on the steering wheel, glancing down at Cas’ hand again. 

Fuck it. 

He slowly slid his hand into the small space between them until his fingers bumped against the angel’s. Cas sucked in a sharp breath next to him as Dean carefully folded their fingers together. Sam and Jess wouldn’t see anything, the seat blocked it, his brain supplied. And then he mentally kicked himself. 

He looked away from the road again for just a split second, Cas already staring at him, expression unreadable. Dean just squeezed his hand, focusing again on the yellow lines of the highway. 

______________________________________

Bobby tried to shoot Cas. 

It was probably a bad idea to send him in first, seeing as Bobby, this Bobby, had no idea who the hell he was. 

Dean may have grabbed the shotgun with a little more force than necessary, Bobby physically lurching forward as it was ripped from his hands, “sorry!” Dean yelped as he tossed the gun behind him. 

“Dammit, ya idjit! I thought you said it was just gonna be Sammy and his girl. Who the fuck is this?”

”Its good to see you too,” Dean deadpanned before Bobby pulled him into a bear hug, hand slapping against his back. As he pulled back, Bobby already had a silver knife in hand. 

“You know the drill,” he said. 

Dean sighed dramatically, taking the knife from him with a small smile. Jess furrowed her brows as Dean took it, and then her eyes widened when he rolled up his shirtsleeve and sliced it across his forearm. Bobby nodded in acceptance as Dean handed off the knife to Sam, and then raised a single bushy eyebrow at his tattoos. “Wards,” he explained, not offering any further explanation. 

Sam was staring at him, eyes unreadable as he glanced over the small amount of Dean’s tattoos that he could see. He just shook his head with a sigh and rolled up his sleeve next. 

Dean jolted when he felt an uncomfortable tingle travel up his arm. He silently cursed as he glanced down at it. The wound was closing up as he stared at it, thinning into nothing but a small white line before disappearing like nothing had been there in the first place. He quickly shucked down his sleeve before anyone else could notice.

Jess winced when Sam handed her the blade, but stuck it out like a trooper. “To make sure I’m human, right?” She asked timidly. Everyone nodded.

Cas was last. Bobby and Sam eyed him as he took it from Jess’s hand. He just rolled his eyes. “I’m not a demon,” he grumbled before doing the same as Dean. Slicing his arm, showing it to everyone, and then pulling his sleeve down when nobody was looking anymore. 

“Just makin’ sure,” said Bobby. He clapped his hands together once everyone was deemed as ‘human’ “alright. So I’m guessin’ that you’re Jess,” he said, looking at her, “unless we have a serious misunderstanding,” this time he looked at Cas, who blanched, “you’ve come to the right damn place.” 

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I appreciate it.” 

Bobby dismissively waved his hand, “sure. Enough with all that, now. Dean has a lot of explainin’ to do here.” He raised his eyebrows at him, just waiting for the explanation to fly out of his ass or something.

Dean thinned his lips, closing his eyes to regain some composure, “what I told you is all I have to say. I dunno why the fucker went after Jess.” 

“But you knew he would be there,” said Bobby.

”Tracked him to Stanford. Put two and two together,” said Dean with a shrug.

”Alright then,” said Bobby, nodding his head at Cas, “then whose your boy toy here?” 

Dean cleared his throat, hoping that his face wasn’t as red as it felt, “this is Cas. He’s a damn good friend of mine.” 

“Castiel,” supplied the angel. “Call me Castiel.” He threw a small smile at Dean. Dean frowned, wondering why he was suddenly so insistent on that. He would have to ask him about it later.

”How long you two known each other for?” Asked Bobby. 

“Two years,” said Cas. 

“Hmm. Ain’t never met you before,” he said. 

Dean realized that the last time he had talked to Bobby before this was a over year ago. That meant that Dean would have known Cas for a whole year before that, which then meant that Bobby assumed that he kept a friendship from him for that long. Dean thinned his lips to a line, they had to be careful with slip ups. 

Bobby grunted, obviously not in the mood for any more questions, motioning for them to follow him. “Got a spare room upstairs where she can stay, used to be your room, actually.” Dean smiled at the memory. The time he spent with Bobby as a kid was the most normal he ever felt to having a happy family.

”You knew him as kids?” Asked Jess, studying a jar of pickled eyeballs on Bobby’s bookshelf.

“He’s family,” said Sam. 

______________________________________

They decided that getting a decent meal would be a good next step. There was a diner with good reviews not too far from Bobby’s. It was Jess’s pick, it was the least they could do for her… troubles. 

Jess and Sam sat close together in a booth, his arm thrown carelessly over her shoulders. Dean and Cas were smushed together across from them, their thighs pressed together under the table. He swallowed nervously, trying to focus on anything but that. 

The waitress saved the day. She bounced over, grinning as she offered to take their drinks. Her name tag read Julia. Sam and Jess both ordered lemonade and then giggled cutely at each other after. Dean pretended to gag at them, and they both shot him mock glares.

”And for you, sweetie?” She asked, leaning forward as she talked to Dean 

He opened his mouth to say ‘beer,’ but something stopped him. He remembered looking in the mirror when he woke up in that motel room for the first time after Chuck whammied him there. He didn’t had the slight pudge he had developed over the years, and something about it stirred this unknown feeling in his chest. Dean wasn’t sure how much of an angel he really was, or if he could even gain weight any more, so he just said, “I’ll have a water.” 

Sam looked at him like he just said that he shits bricks and eats nails for breakfast. “I’ll also have a water,” said Cas patiently. 

As Julia scribbled down their orders, and scampered away to take them to the kitchen, Sam continued starting at him. He shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, “dude, what?” He snapped. 

“You got water.” 

“I wanted a water?”

”You never get water. You get whatever’s on tap.”

”Well maybe I just wanted a damn water,” he said. 

Sam let out a disbelieving laugh, “do I need to whip out the holy water? Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?”

Before he could answer that with some half-assed witty comeback, Julia returned with their drinks, placing them down on the table. “Now what can I get y’all to eat?” She asked, grinning at Dean. The excitement he would usually get from seeing an attractive woman take interest in him wasn't really rearing its head today. 

He smiled politely at her, “bacon burger. Extra cheese.” 

“And there he is,” Sam mumbled. He kicked him a little harder than necessary under the table.

Cas didn’t need to eat (and he probably didn’t either), but he ordered the same thing as Dean to keep up appearances. Plus, Dean was certain that Cas would like it anyway. 

They all made small talk until the food came. It was obvious that Sam was still uncomfortable around Castiel. He kept shooting him wary glances, but wisely chose not to say anything on his own behalf because he knew that Dean would shut him down immediately.  

Jess seemed okay around him. She was adjusting to both his and Cas’ presence, so she probably showed a level of extra politeness until she got more comfortable. 

Dean tore into his burger with fervor, Cas scoffing beside him as he did do, “has anyone ever told you that you eat like a heathen, Dean?” He said, nibbling on one of his French fries.

Jess snorted across from him, lemonade quite literally dripping out of her nose. She giggled as she grabbed a napkin to wipe her face with. Sam was smirking, also holding back laughs, “I’ve told him that at least once a week, dude,” he said. 

Dean swallowed half of the bite we was chewing, trying to defend himself, “Cash ‘as no idea wa ees talkin’ bout,” he said around a mouthful of bacon and burger.  

“Yet you continue to prove my point,” Cas said with a victorious smirk. 

Dean finally swallowed his bite, “you know, Cas? You’re quite the sassy motherfucker.” 

Jess giggled again, “you guys are funny, I can tell you’ve known each other for a while.” 

Dean grinned at her, “yes ma’am.”

When they finished their meals, Julia returned with the check, her breasts on full display for Dean. He just looked away, sliding the check towards him to pay. He almost jolted when he felt Cas’ hand slide across his knee under the table, gripping it lightly. He could feel the holes he was staring into the side of his head. 

He haphazardly scribbled his signature at the bottom, swallowing nervously, just waiting for her to return with the change for the bill he used to pay with. 

“Dean,” said Sam. He turned to look at his brother, “she was totally interested in you.” 

“She was,” said Jess, “had the tits on display and everything.” 

Dean coughed, feeling Cas’ hand tighten slightly on his knee. The asshole knew exactly what he was doing, “wasn’t feelin’ it Sammy.” 

He was hit in the face with a vial of holy water on the way out the door. He spluttered, spitting water out of his mouth as he glared at his brother, “what the hell!” 

Sam sheepishly pocketed the vial, “just making sure. You were acting strange tonight is all.” 

“Strange as in, I ordered a water and declined a booty call from a waitress?” 

“Yes, dude. Strange. That’s not like you at all.” 

Dean tried to hide the little bit of hurt that came with that statement. He knew that was how he used to be; frogging girls back every other night and leaving them in the morning. But now… he just had other things to focus on… better things.

He just shrugged, clapping Sam on the back as he passed by. Sam jolted forward a bit, and Dean got the idea that he probably put a little too much force into it. He genuinely wondered what would happen if he put all of his strength into that slap, “weird times, Sammy.” 

______________________________________

They all stayed at Bobby’s that night. Sam and Jess took the room that they stayed in during their childhood, and Bobby said he’d take the couch for the night. “Don’t make a mess of my room, boy,” and then he winced looking at Cas, “sorry. If I had another room with two beds I’d let ya have it. Make do. Dean hogs the covers.” 

It wasn’t awkward. 

Or at least they made it off not to be. 

Dean didn’t overthink it, and Cas wisely didn’t comment on his possible overthinking. They just climbed into the bed, laying a little bit closer than socially acceptable. 

Dean eventually turned to face Cas, his silhouette visible in the darkness. “Do you even need sleep?” He asked. 

Cas chuckled, “no, but I enjoy the activity.” 

Dean felt his breath ghost over his cheek, and he felt his stomach flutter. “What’s it like,” he blurted, “being an angel, I mean.” 

Cas turned a little more towards him, their noses mere inches apart, “it’s wonderful,” he said, “but it is both a blessing and a curse.” 

Dean felt Cas’ fingers trail over his arm, and he shuddered. His fingers were light, dancing over the lines of the tattoos that he had there. “I have all the knowledge in the world, but I miss out on the simple things. I have a difficult time identifying emotions upon occasion. It is mostly because angels are wired not to feel them.” 

“But you feel emotions,” said Dean, “don’t you?” There was no way he didn’t. Cas was far different than the other angels he’d met. For one, he wasn’t a heartless winged dick.

“Yes,” he said, breath puffing over Dean’s face as he laughed lightly. “I feel. It is why my siblings have forgotten me, left me for myself. I am different.” 

“Well, I think it’s good to be the black sheep,” said Dean, “hell, I’ve been one my whole life. Like you said, good and bad.” 

“Then I suppose we are more similar that you think.” His fingers stopped at the base of Dean’s neck, tangling lightly into the short hairs there. Dean found himself leaning into the touch a little.

”Yeah, I guess.” 

Dean let their foreheads bump together, and he left out a sharp exhale, a breath he didn’t know he was holding. They stayed like that for a while, his fingers tangled through Dean’s hair, light breaths puffing over each other’s lips. 

Eventually, Cas leaned forward, gently pressing his lips to Dean’s. He didn’t stop him. It was chaste, just a simple press of lips to lips, nothing more. “Goodnight, Dean,” Cas whispered. 

He smiled, “night, Cas.” 

SAM

Sam would admit that he didn’t necessarily like Castiel. He seemed kind of stuck up, but almost in the way where he wasn’t even trying to be. Nevertheless, he made Sam uncomfortable. He didn’t like the way he seemed to hover around Dean, always breathing over his shoulder. And what confused him more, was that Dean didn’t stop him. 

Sure, the guy seemed a little weird, but Dean was always one for personal space. Maybe he’d just gotten used to it, because apparently, he’d known the guy for two years. Maybe he just got tired of reminding him to take a step back. 

Sam sighed, rolling around on his bed. Jess had gotten up about ten minutes ago to eat something. She was starving, and the smell of cooking bacon from the kitchen was enough to spur her into action. 

Sam didn’t have much of an appetite. He kept replaying the events of two nights ago over and over in his head. Something didn’t seem right. Sure, the demon trying to murder his girlfriend really topped off that list, but there was something else. Dean had been the definition of right place, right time. Ten seconds later, and he and Jess would probably be dead. 

Castiel seemed to be out of place. Maybe not to Dean, but he didn’t fit into this whole equation to Sam in the slightest. He was like that extra variable that the math problem didn’t need. Not once, had Bobby met this guy, and Sam was willing to bet his top dollar that their father didn’t either. Then that led to a whole other string of questions. Why had Dean simply given up on their father like that? It wasn’t like Sam was mad, the guy treated his brother awful his entire life. If anything, he was glad that Dean was finally thinking for himself. 

Sam pressed his lips together as he pushed himself out of the bed. He needed to talk to Dean. 

Sam threw on a semi-clean pair of sweatpants, running a hand through his tangled hair as he exited the room, the door creaking open behind him. Bobby really needed to fix the hinges on that thing. He wandered slowly down the hallway to the room that Dean was staying in, feet dragging tiredly over the carpeted floors. He hadn’t slept well the previous night. Castiel had been in there too, so he would probably open to door to one of them sleeping on the floor. He reminded himself not to step on either of them.

Dean would rather risk back problems than swallow his pride and just fucking share. Sam knocked twice, “are you decent?” He asked, pressing his ear closer to hear the response. 

The was the sound of scuffling on the other end, followed by cursing and then a hollow thud. “Yeah!” Called back Dean, his voice cracking slightly. “Come in.” Sam snorted, pushing open the door.

He paused as soon as he stepped in, frowning at the sight of his brother. Something still wasn’t right. Dean was shirtless, rummaging through his bag as Castiel watched him intently (almost creepily. The guy seemed to have a thing for staring. Maybe he was just bad at picking up social cues). The latter had a book open in his lap, a few of the pages dog-eared. Tattoos lined Deans arms, and a good portion of his back. They consisted of many intricate sigils, some which he couldn’t even begin to recognize. His brother snorted when he noticed him looking. 

“Wards, Sammy. Better safe than sorry.” 

“That’s a lot of tattoos man. You never struck me as that guy.”

Dean shrugged, turning a full three sixty to show off his ink to Sam. “Kinda badass if I do say so myself. You should invest in a permanent anti possession tramp stamp too. Might save your ass more than once, you know.” Sam would admittedly say that it was a smart idea. Why carry around wards when you can just have them permanently inked to your body.

“Wait,” said Sam, noticing something else on Dean’s shoulder, “what’s that?” 

“What’s what?” 

“That. It looks like— is that a fucking handprint?” 

“Mistakes happen, Sammy. Had a tattoo removed a while ago.” 

“It looks like a burn.” 

“They fucked up. Last time I ever visit a sketchy basement for a tattoo removal.” 

“Why the hell would you have a tattoo of a hand?” 

Sam jumped as Castiel slammed his book shut, abruptly getting to his feet. “How about breakfast. Dean? Bacon? I smell bacon.” 

“Sounds great, Cas. Thought you’d never ask.” Dean shrugged into an old band tee, clapping Sam on the shoulder as he passed by him. Sam tried to hide the fact that he jerked back as Dean did so. The asshole didn’t need to put that much force behind it, Jesus. “Comin’ Sam? I know how much you love bacon,” he shot him a wolfish grin. 

“Funny. I’ll take an omelet.” 

As he followed his brother and Castiel to the kitchen, the sound of pleasant chatter between Jess and Bobby filled his ears. A warm smile crossed his face when he saw her. She was wearing one of his shirts. It was large enough where it looked like a night gown on her.

Jess grinned, setting down the tongs she was using to turn over the sizzling bacon, and wrapped her arms around his waist in a tight hug. “Morning,” she murmured. 

He kissed the top of her head, beaming. “Morning.”

Dean breezed by him, sniffing the air. “Fuck. Did you make bacon, Jess?” He asked. 

“She did,” said Bobby, “and pancakes. Didn’t even know I had half this stuff in my house.” 

“Dear god,” said Dean, moaning around the bacon he was chewing on, “marry her, Sam. The bacon must prevail.”

He just scoffed, watching carefully as Dean handed Castiel a piece of bacon before taking another for himself.

Jess herded them all over to the small dining table as she served them each a plate of pancakes. She gave Dean his in the shape of a dick, and they all got a good laugh out of it. “You’re lucky we share the same kind of humor,” said Dean with a finger jabbed in Jess’s general direction. He speared a piece of the pancake with his fork and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing. 

“Well!” Said Bobby. “While you boys are here, might as well help me with somethin’.”

Sam frowned, swallowing his bite. Jess made really fucking good pancakes. “With what?” 

“Old huntin’ buddy of mine sent me this message a couple’a nights ago. His name’s Jason. Can’t make heads or tails of what it actually says, but was hoping you could.” 

Bobby turned out his pockets, three phones clattering onto the table. One was labeled FBI on the back of it, and another was HOMELAND SECURITY. The third one was blank. Sam raised a brow at the collection of devices. “Quit your gaping, boy. A man has priorities.” 

Bobby flipped open the blank phone, scrolling through old messages until he seemed to find what he was looking for. “Listen to this,” he said. 

Sam leaned closer to the phone as the crackle of static filled the air. At first, he heard nothing but a faint buzzing, and then a grainy voice filled the air, causing him to jump. “Er iz gekumen. Er iz aoyfgeshtanen,” it said. 

Sam looked at Bobby with confusion. The man just shrugged. “Keep listening.”

“Hit eykh ale vas aroysfodern nit folgn. Boygn  zikh far aunzer neyer har.” Continued the garbled voice. Sam held his breath, listening for more. He drummed his fingers when it repeated itself, saying those four phrases three times over before the message cut out. 

“What the fuck?” Said Jess. Sam couldn’t even begin to recognize the language. 

“Was that Yiddish?” Said Dean, looking as equally baffled as everyone else. 

Sam blinked, “how the fuck would you know that?” Jess lightly slapped his arm, scowling at him. 

“No, he is correct,” said Castiel. “That was a rather old form of Yiddish, a religious language spoken by the Jewish people.” 

“Yeah, I know who speaks it,” said Sam. “But how could you two recognize it?” 

“Can you play it again?” Asked Dean, completely ignoring Sam’s question.

Bobby gave him a strange look, but pressed the play button nevertheless. The scratchy voice filled Sam’s ears again, and he winced at how grating it was. He saw Dean frown, “it doesn’t make any sense,” he said. 

Sam snorted, “yeah. That’s because you don’t speak Yiddish.” 

“No,” said Dean, his brows scrunched together. He turned to Castiel, “what does he mean by that, ‘bow down to our new lord’? You know I don’t like this creepy religious shit.” 

Castiel frowned, and Sam’s jaw nearly hit the table. “I believe that this is a warning. The way in which this man, presumably Jason’s, voice sounded, he was likely possessed.” 

“Dude,” said Sam. 

Dean ignored him, continuing on. “Right. But he also said ‘he has risen.’ Who? Who has risen? Many things rise, Cas!” 

“Dean!” Barked Sam. 

His older brother paused, looking at Sam, “yes?” He asked casually. 

“Since when to you speak Yiddish?” 

“Cool,” whispered Jess. 

“Uh,” he scratched his head, “Cas… taught me.” He didn’t seem so sure about his answer. 

“He taught you.” 

“That is correct,” said Castiel, as monotone as ever. Sam shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

”You’re Jewish?” Said Jess.

Castiel looked like he wanted to respond, but Dean cut him off, “yup! He’s Jewish. Celebrates Hanukkah and everything. I found him on a little farm all those years ago and saved his ass from a werewolf. He’s been hunting with me ever since.” Castiel threw Dean a pissy look, and he just grinned at him. Sam narrowed his eyes. 

“Oh… okay then,” said Jess. 

“Yes,” said Castiel, gritting his teeth. His gaze was flinty, “that is correct.” Maybe he was embarrassed. Sam probably would be too.

Bobby grunted, impressed, “I always said you were smarter than you let on, boy,” he clapped Dean on the shoulder. “So what’s this about new lords rising?” 

Dean drummed his fingers on the table, his dick shaped pancakes long since forgotten. “Dunno. If the dude’s possessed, there’s a damn good chance this demon is trying to send a message. Or, whatever’s possessing Jason.” 

“Can things other than demons possess people?” Wondered Jess. 

“Yes,” said Castiel, “often, vengeful spirits are able to possess a person.” 

“Vengeful spirits?” 

“Angry ghosts,” supplied Sam. She nodded in understanding. 

“Where did this call come from?” Asked Dean. 

“Last I know, Jason was tracking a pack of wolves in Stony Hill. ‘Bout an hour drive from here.”

Sam pursed his lips. He didn’t come here to hunt. He came here to find a safe place for Jess to stay until he and Dean could figure out what to do about the demon. They were getting off track. 

“I’ll only do it if you can help us with something too,” said Sam. 

Bobby grunted, “this ain’t a charity.” 

“We need you to help us find dad,” continued Sam, ignoring him.

Dean and Castiel both gave him disbelieving looks, “hell no, Sam. Guy left. He doesn’t wanna be found.” 

“Yeah, but he’s still after this demon. Shouldn’t we warn him about it? About what it tried to do to Jess?”

”I’ll be damned,” mumbled Bobby, “never thought I’d see the day where you prioritized your father before Dean did.” 

Sam scoffed, “I’m not prioritizing him. I just don’t want him to do something stupid. There’s got to be some way to get ahold of him. I know damn well he won’t be answering my, or Dean’s calls.” 

Sam watched Castiel lean in close to Dean, whispering something to him. Dean snorted, swatting at his arm, “no, dude,” he said, “we can’t do that yet.” 

“Do what?” Demanded Sam. He was starting to get a little irritated. 

“Can we stop bickering like children,” snapped Bobby, “I’ll help ya find your damn daddy if you can check up on Jason. Make sure the guy ain’t dead somewhere. I’m too old to be doin’ this shit these days.”

”Deal,” said Dean before Sam could butt in again. “We leave tomorrow.” 

“I’m coming with you,” said Jess. 

“No!” Cried Sam, Dean, and Castiel at the same time. At least they could all collectively agree on something.

Jess crossed her arms, “why not? I’ve already seen a demon. What the hell is a ghost?” 

“We need you to stay here because Bobby’s got this place warded from everything,” said Dean, “we won’t be long.” 

“I promise,” Sam added. 

______________________________________

“I need to talk to you,” started Sam. 

Dean gave him a strange look, “aren’t we doing that now?” 

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. I have a lot of questions, Dean. This was all so sudden. You at least owe me that much.” 

Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. It was an oddly stilted motion that made him look years beyond his age. Dean, he realized, looked exhausted. He’d been dragging the weight of three people for the last few days, and now he was going on a hunt. “Waddya wanna know,” he said around a yawn. 

“Alright, I’m starting off easy, then. Is Castiel coming with us?” 

“Yep,” said Dean, popping the ‘p,’ “ain’t going nowhere without him.” 

Sam frowned, honestly confused at the strange relationship Dean seemed to have with this guy. As long as they’d lived, Dean’s never had a real friend. He had people he drank with, and women he hooked up with, and that was it. Sam never understood why his brother refused to form any kind of connection with anybody. He seemed to be set on sticking to the drifter lifestyle; no constant to keep him rooted to a single place for more than a short period of time.

Sam launched into his next question without preamble. ”How do you know so much? You’ve been gone for almost two years, and know a hell of a lot more about hunting than I ever did. I don’t think dad taught you all of it either.” 

Dean shrugged, “tell me, Sammy. When you go to school you learn more every year. It’s a learning curve. I’ve just decided to invest some time in it is all,” he flashed a grin at Sam, the tiredness still shining through in his eyes. That made sense in a way. 

“What do I do now?” Wondered Sam. “I can’t go back with Jess until I know she’s safe. And after that, then what? Do I go back to living my life pretending like Jess didn’t almost die? I know she couldn’t.”

Dean shrugged, taking a long draw out of his beer bottle. He and Sam had cracked open a six pack. Dean had been working on it by himself. “that’s up to you. I ain’t gonna force you to do anything you don’t want to.” 

That… wasn’t the answer he expected. He’d expected at least some semblance of a fight from his brother. “What about you?” 

Dean chuckled, “we’ve still got work to do, Cas and I. I have a feeling it doesn’t end with this demon.” 

Sam looked down, scuffing his foot over Bobby’s decade old carpet, “I don’t either.” He risked another glance at his brother. “Can I… can I tell you something? You have to promise you won’t tell Jess though. She’d freak out if she knew.”

”Cross my heart,” said Dean with a grin, tracing his index finger over his chest. Sam affectionately rolled his eyes. 

“I’ve been having these… dreams, I guess.” If you could even call them that.

Dean cocked his head to the side, “dreams?” 

He nodded. “I don’t know. They could mean nothing, but they just seem so real. I kept having these nightmares about Jess dying the same way that mom did. I didn’t think much of it. Until now, anyway. I tried the best I could to just chalk it down to being sleep deprived, or maybe just a result of our shitty childhood, but a few night ago made me realize that maybe I should have paid attention to what my own body was trying to tell me.” 

Dean nodded. “Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

“Okay.” 

“That— that’s it? No freak out? No telling me I’m insane?” 

“Nope!” 

“I— okay then.” Sam didn’t really know what to say. Dean was surprisingly calm about all of this. In fact, all of his reactions and mannerisms seemed very out of character for him. He was still Dean, just different. Sam didn’t know what happened during those two years, but it must have been enough to make Dean rethink how he came across to others. He watched Dean down the rest of his beer in two large gulps. Well, maybe.

They stood there in silence for a minute, Sam shooting glances at Dean as his brother cracked open a fresh bottle.

”You shoulda seen the look on your face when I said Cas taught me Yiddish,” said Dean, trying to stray away from an awkward silence. “Pretty sure you made the same face that one time I put nair in your shampoo and your hair starting falling out.”

“We said that we would never speak of that again, one. And two, it just shocked me a little. It’s a strange language to want to know, I guess. But to each their own,” Sam raised a brow, “you know any other languages?” 

Dean grinned, nose wrinkling goofily, “all of them.” 

Sam huffed, “okay, Asshat. I’ve still got Spanish on you.” 

“Try again, Sammy.” Dean leaned back in the chair he’d sat down in, crossing one leg over his other knee.

Sam narrowed his eyes, “Eres un maldito gilipollas.” He grinned when Dean looked at him funnily, thinking that he had him backed into a corner.

Dean then flashed a cocky smile at him, “me enorgullezco de ello.”

”Dude, what the hell.” 

Sam didn’t know if he should even be surprised anyone. Because of course Dean knew Spanish too. What didn’t Dean seem to know now? 

“Look Sam. I know you got a hell of a lot of questions. I can’t answer them all now. Just know that I’m your damn brother, and I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.” 

Sam sighed, that was probably the best answer he was going to get for now. “Same here, man. I really appreciate you doing all this for Jess, though. I know this is probably… less than convenient.” 

Dean snorted, “wasn’t a problem at all. This is treading into dangerous chick-flick territory, though,” he stood, handing Sam a beer on his way out of the room. “Me and Cas have a thing. I’ll see you in the morning, Samantha.” 

JESS

Bobby set down a plate that consisted of a pan seared steak and mashed potatoes in front of her. “Ain’t much, but it’s an honest man’s work,” he said. 

“No! It’s perfect,” said Jess, “thank you.” 

Bobby grunted as a way of thanks, and sat down in the seat across from her. The chair creaked from years of usage. She watched as he unfolded the napkin next to his plate, and neatly set it atop of his lap. “How long have you known Sam and Dean?” She asked, following his example and setting her napkin on her lap. 

A small smile twitched at the corner of his lips, “long damn time. Since they were just boys, really,” his smile faded away as he cut into his own steak, “their daddy would leave them here with me when he couldn’t take ‘em with him.” 

Jess thinned her lips, picking up her fork and shoveling a bite of the potatoes into her mouth. They were good. “Sam doesn’t tell me much about his childhood.” 

“And for good reason,” grunted Bobby, “wasn’t much good to talk about. They’d ask me the same question every time he left, ‘is he comin’ back this time, uncle Bobby?’ And I’d tell them the same thing every time they asked. ‘I don’t know, boys.’ Cause I didn’t know if he would.” 

“He sounds like an asshole,” said Jess, chewing aggressively on a bite of the steak. It was actually pretty good, albeit a bit over cooked.

“John means well, but sometimes I think he shouldn’ta had children. They ain’t had much of a childhood at all to begin with.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Bobby took a long swig of his beer, taking his time to swallow it, “he started training them young. He was always harder on Dean, maybe ‘cause he’s the oldest. Hell, Dean was more of a father to Sam than his own father was, and he didn’t complain about it once.”

“Sam talked about Dean sometimes. He never really said anything bad, but I could tell that it made him sad to mention him. Why?” 

“I don’t know what went down between those boys, and it ain’t my business either, but they’re brothers. Can’t be mad at each other forever, can they?” 

Jess nodded, a newfound kind of respect for Dean blooming inside of her. It took a lot to take on that kind of responsibility that young. “Can you tell me about them?” She grinned, “I need lore on teenage Sam.” 

Bobby chuckled, tearing into his steak with a little more aggression than necessary. “I can try. I didn’t see them much, only when John dumped them here. Dean was a troubled kid, but he always meant well. Everything he did was for his brother. He got into more damn fights than anyone I knew, and almost always came out on top. By what? Maybe just sheer luck. He tried too hard to be like his daddy, wanted to follow in his footsteps. John was too damn hard on him.” 

“And Sam?” She asked quietly. 

“Sam didn’t want much to do with what his brother and father did, he wanted to leave. Maybe it was because of how he had to watch the abuse his brother took for him, or how he had to watch people die. Watchin’ people die is always the hardest. I don’t blame him one bit for leaving for that.” 

“But he can’t leave now.” It wasn’t a question.

Bobby shook his head, “not now. He won’t if he knew it would put you in danger. I know that boy, he wouldn’t risk it.” 

“And Dean wouldn’t let him go back either if he didn’t think he was gonna be safe either, I’m guessing.” 

“Damn right,” said Bobby, downing the rest of his beer. He held the empty bottle up. “Gonna get another. You want one?” 

She pursed her lips, “I’ll take two.” 

CAS

The Impala rumbled down the highway, music playing softly form the speakers. Castiel hardly saw the point of driving, seeing as flying would be significantly easier. Unfortunately, they had a reputation to uphold; that reputation being ‘normal.’

They wanted to appear the least amount of suspicious as possible, while also trying to keep the world from ending twice over. So far, so good, or at least he thought so. 

They had prevented the first of many deaths, that being Jess. Castiel liked Jess. He could see why she and Sam fit together so well. She grounded him, kept him sane; almost like Dean did for him. He would almost go as far as calling her a female version of Dean. 

Sam was passed out in the back, face smushed against the window as his long legs were sprawled akimbo across the seat. He let out a rather loud snore, and he couldn’t help but smile. 

Castiel glanced over at Dean in the drivers seat. He was mouthing along to the words of the song silently, something called ‘Rockstar’ by Quarterback, he believed, drifting out of the radio. He liked the tune of the song. Dean’s freckles were highlighted by the rays of sun shining through the window, and his eyes glowed happily. He was beautiful.

Dean furrowed his brows when he noticed Cas looking, “somethin’ on my face?” He asked, grinning. 

Cas could feel his cheeks heat up a bit at the comment, “no.”

Dean chuckled, “I’m just messing with you. Take a nice long look, I know I’m a sexy motherfucker.” 

Castiel crossed his arms, lips pursed, “well if you want to put it into brash terms.” 

He smirked when he realized that he had Dean backed into a corner. He cleared his throat, face also flaming as he refocused on the road. “You’re relentless,” he mumbled. 

“I try.” 

Dean snorted, changing the subject to something else, “we’re about twenty minutes out.”

”I could have flown us there in less than a second.”

”Yeah, well,” he glanced at Sam through the rear view mirror, “we can’t do that yet.”

Dean drummed his fingers to the beat of a new song on the steering wheel, eyes drifting over to Cas again. “Focus on the road, Dean,” he said, smirking, “you’re swerving.” 

“Sorry. Do you just…” he cleared his throat again; a nervous habit he seemed to do when he was trying to avoid something, or when he felt uncomfortable. “Do you think that I really have wings? Like actual feathery appendages.”

”That is what wings are, Dean.” 

“You know what I mean, smartass,” he said, “my shoulders have been itching like hell for the past day or two, I couldn’t help but think that maybe that’s what it is.”

“My wings do tend to get uncomfortable when I do not use them for an elongated period of time,” he mused. “Perhaps we should revisit this tonight. We do have a case to take care of.” 

“Gonna show me how to angel, Cas?” He said, “are there specific guidelines I need to follow? An instruction manual?”

”There are no such instruction manuals,” he said, narrowing his eyes at Dean, “unless you happen to know of any? If so, I would very much like to read an outsiders take on how to be an angel of the lord.” 

Dean tipped his head back and let out a booming laugh that startled both Castiel and Sam. Sam jerked awake in the back, and Cas left out an unamused huff. He hardly saw how Dean managed to find humor in these situations.

“Don’t ever change, Cas,” said Dean. “Don’t ever change.” He smiled, warmth blossoming in his chest. He didn’t know what Dean meant by that, but it somehow made him happy to hear it.

“What’s happening?” Said Sam blearily. Cas heard scuffling behind him as Sam struggled to push his large form into a sitting position. His hair was flattened on the side that had been resting against the window. 

“Fifteen minutes, Sammy. Strap on your good panties.” 

“Fuck you,” he mumbled. 

“So you didn’t bring them?” 

“Oh my god. Dean. Please,” then he leaned closer to Castiel’s side of the car, “is he always this incorrigible? I figured you’d know since you’ve been stuck with him for two years or so. Sorry about that by the way, he’s kind of a dick.”

”I would hardly call Dean a dick, but yes, he could be incorrigible at times.” 

“Dude! I thought we were on the same side here.” Cried Dean.

”We are. I am merely stating facts.” Castiel said smugly, knowing that he was pressing Dean’s buttons.

“Asshole. Don’t make me pull this car over.” 

“Oh no. I feel terribly threatened!” 

“I’ll leave you on the side of the highway.” 

“Do you really believe that will stop me?” 

“You’re gonna miss your exit, Dean,” Sam piped up. “You’ve got half a mile. Stop bickering like toddlers.” 

______________________________________

Stony Hill, South Dakota, population approximately six hundred and fifty. It looked lonely. 

As Dean pulled into an abandoning parking lot outside of a nature center, he stole a look around at their surroundings. There were a lot of trees. Castiel was fond of trees; there were so many kinds. 

Personally, his favorite was the evergreen. Call him biased, but he had created the tree himself all those years ago. It made him sad to see the leaves fall from the trees in the winter, leaving them bare until the weather became warm again. 

“I’m gonna check out the sheriffs station,” said Sam, “you two got park ranger duty?”

”You know it,” said Dean, reaching over Castiel’s lap to open the storage compartment above his legs. His hand closed around a small wooden box, presumably filled with various fake ID’s. “Gotta make you one of these, Cas,” he said, rooting through the box until he found what he was looking for. 

The back door of the car slammed shut, Sam already hustling down the dirt road they just drove up. His hands were stuffed into his pockets, head held high. Dean was looking after him with a deep rooted sadness in his eyes; Cas knew it was because this wasn’t the same. 

Sam looked the same, Bobby looked the same, but they weren’t the Sam and Bobby that they knew. Castiel became very thankful that his father had sent him along with Dean. 

“Did you know that I created the evergreen tree, Dean?” He asked as they exited the car. 

Dean paused, hand still on the door, “seriously?” 

Cas hummed, closing his own door a lot more gently than Sam did. “Yes. It made me sad to see the bare trees in the winter.” 

Dean gave him a strange sort of look, “really? I don’t think I’ve ever looked at a tree and felt sad about it. Then again, I ain’t you either. No offense, but you’re kinda weird.” 

“I am not weird.” 

Dean clapped him on the shoulder, “yes you are. Don’t even bother denying it.” 

Cas scowled, attempting to shrug away from Dean, but the man just laughed and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, “I’m kidding. Don’t get all pissy on me.” 

“I’m not.” 

“Yes you are. That’s your pissy face.” 

“It’s not, Dean!” 

Dean pulled them to a stop outside of the nature center, leaning in close, “yes it is. But I think it’s damn adorable,” he kissed him on the cheek quickly before retracting his arm and pushing the door open. His cheeks were red. Castiel felt his head spinning as he followed Dean inside, this odd sort of fluttering feeling shooting through his chest.

It appeared to be empty. They stood in front of a counter, stacks of paper laying on abandoned desks as they entered. The lights were off, and it seemed that nobody had been in there for a while.

“Hello?” Called Dean, turning in a full circle, “anyone here?” 

Cas caught Dean’s wrist as he walked by, gesturing to a phone hanging dejectedly from its receiver by one of the desks. 

“Don’t think they’ll mind if I climb back there, Cas?” 

“There is nobody here to mind.” 

“Exactly my point.” 

Dean glanced around one more time before kicking open the half-door that separated them from the rest of the building. 

Cas could hear the faint sound of static cracking through the phone, so he approached it cautiously as Dean picked up one of the papers to study it. 

“There’s still power here,” he observed, gently taking the phone into his hands. 

“I’ll find the light switch,” said Dean. 

Cas turned the phone over, curiously pressing his ear to the speaker. Static was the only thing he could hear. “Hello?” He called into the phone, as if somebody could hear him.

“Found it!” Dean cheered, the lights flipping on at the same time that the static abruptly stopped. 

“Hello?” He said again, hesitantly. 

“Cas,” said Dean, climbing over a pile of papers to reach him, “what is that.” 

He frowned, “I am unsu—“

”Castiel.” 

He jerked the phone back, sparks flying from the cord and the electrical box resting next to the phone. The lights immediately flickered back off with a sound of protest from Dean.

”What the hell!” 

The phone then proceeded to burst into flames in his hands, the electrical box quite literally exploding. “Fuck!” Yelped Dean, dodging a piece of metal, and not even thinking as he threw his hand out. 

The phone flew out of Castiel’s grip and into the opposing wall, flaming plastic bits raining down onto the many stacks of paper littering the office area. “FUCK!” Dean roared again, looking around in a panic. 

“Fuck,” Castiel seconded. 

“I didn’t mean to do that,” defended Dean. 

“You don’t have full control over your abilities yet.” 

“I don’t even know what my abilities are!” 

“I said I would help you, however, I suggest we leave the building. The fire is growing.” 

A wall of flames erupted in front of them as if to prove his point, and Dean nodded, grabbing his hand, “smart. In fact, we should leave this entire damn area before we get accused of arson. I don’t need to be on the FBI’s most wanted again.” 

Dean almost tripped over a floral rug with coffee stains on it as he dragged them out of the building. Smoke billowed out of the doorway as they stumbled onto the small porch surrounding the nature center. Sam was standing directly in front of them, mouth hanging open in shock. 

“You guys have got to be fucking kidding me. Ten minutes. I left you alone for ten minutes. How.” 

“The telephone said my name, and then it exploded.” Castiel explained. He was being truthful, after all.

”It said— you know what. Later. That’s for later. Find anything with the sheriff, Sammy?” Said Dean, brushing some of the ashes out of his hair. 

Sam sighed, “yeah, actually.”

SAM

Sam stood staring at the flaming nature center as Dean and Castiel stood sentinel beside him, neither man looking as ashamed as they should be.

“That was not my fault,” said Dean as a section of the roof collapsed in on itself, a plume of smoke and flames shooting out of the hole it left behind, “just saying.” They all collectively jumped when a window shattered.

Castiel wheeled around to face Dean, brows pinched together rather sassily, “oh, so this is my fault now? Yes, Dean, the phone blew up because of me. Perhaps it was whatever said my name?”

“I don’t know! Maybe you’re just hearing things?” If only they were ever that lucky. Sam heard lots of things. Things that generally turned out to be real.

”I do not hear things, Dean,” he snapped.

“Can you guys not?” Said Sam, already irritated at this whole thing. “I can tell you what the sheriff said when we leave. As far as I know, nobody works even here anymore anyway. The building’s been abandoned for a while now, according to the sheriff.”

“Oh, good. I was worried we burned down something important,” said Dean. “Carry on.”

“I think that we should avoid burning down buildings altogether,” snipped Castiel, grabbing Dean’s arm to drag him off towards the Impala. Dean stumbled after him with a yelp. Sam shook his head with a disappointed eye roll.

He was starting to feel like a third wheel here. First, he got booted to the backseat. That was a lot more degrading than it should have been, by the way. He felt like a child banished to the back after misbehaving. Sam knew it’s been a while since he’d seen Dean, much less spoken to him. Somehow, he almost found himself jealous, though he would never admit it aloud. He just wasn’t used to Dean paying more attention to somebody other than him, it was strange.

As he opened the backdoor to the car, he watched as Dean swatted Castiel over the head, grinning as the other tried to bat his hand away with fruitless attempts. Dean then ruffled his hair, and proceeded to jam a cassette into the slot with a pointed look thrown Castiel’s way.

“What’s the verdict, Sammy,” said Dean almost as soon as Sam’s ass touched the leather of the car seat.

He grunted, slamming the door closed hard enough for Dean to give him the look. “I didn’t get much, but it was enough. Jason wasn’t the only guy to go missing. Two more this week, a kid that was seventeen, and then an elderly man. So no pattern in terms of victims. Nothing unordinary about the disappearance other than the tape Bobby had on his phone.”

“What else?”

Sam shook his head as Dean started the engine to the Impala, shifting the car into drive. “Apparently, according to their families, they all started acting strange before they disappeared. Starting speaking in tongues, rocking back and forth, the general possessed person kind of shit.”

Dean hummed, Sam slamming into the side of the car as he took a hard turn out of the parking lot. Castiel made a sound of protest, his knuckles white as he held onto the dash for dear life. “doesn’t sound like the usual demon quota. Maybe a vengeful spirit?”

“Usual demon— just how many demons have you come across, Dean? In case you haven’t noticed, they’re rare. That means you would have had to seek them out on your own.”

Dean shrugged, “two or three, give or take.”

“Dean is very skilled at killing demons,” said Castiel, matter-of-factly,. “They all died violent deaths.” Sam pretended not be be irked by that statement. In all the years that he had been living with Dean and his father, they had never once come across a demon.

“Really, Cas?” Dean deadpanned, “I think that Sam could have gone his life without knowing that.”

”Yup,” said Sam, “and you are right. I don’t even want to know. So what now? On the case, I mean, not on killing demons.”

Dean took another violent turn, Sam grabbing onto the back of Castiel’s seat to avoid being thrown to the side again, “look for any strange history regarding the town; natives that could have lived here, myths, folklore, religious cults, anything strange.”

“So right now we are driving to…”

”The town library,” finished Castiel. “There, we could use their computer, and possibly find any books regarding the town’s past history.”

Sam hummed, “smart. Whose on computer duty?”

“Me,” said Dean, not even bothering to use his turn signal as he shot across two lanes and into the library’s nearly empty parking lot. It’s not like there was anybody living here to drive on the roads anyway. The only other car parked there was a beat up old Cadillac, the rims rusty, and the tires slightly low on air.

“Dean!” Castiel snapped, “please. I would rather not get into a car accident.”

”Shut it, flyboy. Haven’t got into one yet, have I?” Sam rolled his eyes at their bickering.

The look Castiel gave him was a vicious looking side eye. “Okay! That was once. But it technically was not my fault. Hell, I wasn’t even driving.”

”You got into an accident?” Asked Sam, dumbstruck.

“Uh… yeah. It was a long time ago. I’m all good, Sammy. Still kickin’, aren’t I?” Dean whipped into a parking spot, throwing the Impala into park. “Let’s roll, Cas.” Ah. The classic Dean method of avoidance.

Dean hurried out of the drivers seat, and Sam suddenly got the feeling that he was hiding something. In fact, he was hiding a lot of things, and he knew that for sure. He wasn’t going to pry, he knew it was useless, but it didn’t mean that his brother should hide everything from him.

The library looked just as abandoned as the nature center. The windows were yellowing around the edges, and the white paint on the siding was chipped in multiple places. There used to be vibrant flowers painted onto the side of it, but they looked like nothing more than dull smudges now. A yellow smiley face was smeared so it looked as through its face were melting. Real welcoming. 

“This town gives me the creeps,” mumbled Dean as he pulled open the door, or at least he tried to. When it didn’t budge, he frowned.

“It says push to open, dude,” Sam said.

Dean scoffed, “right, I knew that.” Sam shook his head with a sigh. Some things never did change.

A bell rang, signaling their arrival, and an elderly lady sitting at the welcome desk lifted her head to look at them. She had a frizzy red Afro atop her head, and a pair of spectacles perched on her nose. Her papery lips curled into a grin. “Why, hello!” She said, her voice shaky and shrill, “it’s been such a long while since I’ve had any new visitors.”

Sam watched as Dean threw on his most charming smile, “I’m glad we could be of some use! Do you by chance have a computer we could use, maybe somewhere in the back?”

The woman nodded, lifting a bony hand to point to the back section of the library, where one of the lightbulbs were blown out. Sam swore he saw cobwebs drifting from the ceiling. “Just one, though I must warn you it is a bit outdated.”

“It won’t be a problem, ma’am,” Sam said with a smile, “we appreciate it.”

She nodded, the chains holding her glasses to her face bobbing up and down, “do feel free to look at some of the books too, I have quite the wide selection.”

As Dean and Castiel wandered to the back of the library, he turned to look back at the elderly woman. She was staring at him kind of creepily, her eyes intense, “do you by chance have any books on the town history?” He asked.

She frowned, “oh, we must have one somewhere. Come,” she hobbled out from behind the counter, “I’ll show you where you might find them.” She moved with surprising speed for somebody that looked like she was nearing one hundred years old.

Sam followed her around the corner, rows of books filling his eyes. The shelves were cramped together, and dust was collecting on top of a majority of the books. The woman hummed to herself as she ran her index finger over the spines of a few of the novels. 

“So uh…” Sam cleared his throat, “how often do you get somebody in here?” 

She picked up one of the books, dusting off the front cover, “I do have a few regulars; Eunice, she brings her cat when she visits, Harold, though I suspect he died, I haven’t seen him lately. It’s like he just disappeared. Ah!” She grabbed another book, a triumphant grin lighting up her face. She was missing two of her teeth. “This one.” 

The book was thick, at least five hundred pages or so, and could have easily killed somebody if you were to throw it at them.

“There, you will find everything there is to know about this town, and more.” 

“Thank you, ma’am. May I ask your name?” He asked, attempting to be polite.

She stared at the book for a moment, turning it over in her hands, “Lily.” She had a thin smile on her face while handing it to Sam. It creeped him out a little.

“Thank you, Lily,” he said, taking the book from her, “what’s the cost?” 

“Oh, don’t be daft. It’s free of charge your first time here!” 

“Sam!” Dean suddenly barked. Lily turned her head towards Dean and Castiel with lightning speed as they rounded the corner. Once again, Sam was shocked she didn’t break something moving at such a speed (though he could have swore he heard something crack).

“Dear me!” She said, holding a hand over her heart, “I am reaching closer to my end every day, no need to speed up the process.”

”Sorry, ma’am,” said Dean with a grin, “we were just gonna be on our merry old ways now. Thanks for lettin’ us use the computer.” 

______________________________________

“Somethin’ ain’t right about that old hag,” said Dean as they deposited their things into the motel room. Per usual; shitty. Water stained walls, sort of made beds, some scenic photograph trying to cover a hole. Dean stretched his arms above his head with a wince and Sam snorted. 

“Sore there, old man?” Dean good-naturedly flipped him off. “And I don’t think so, she just seemed senile to me.” 

“I agree with Dean,” said Castiel from the other side of the room. He was rummaging through his bag for a pair of clothes. He grinned triumphantly when he produced a pair of grey sweats, “she was rather unnerving.” 

“She’s an old lady that owns a library. I’m sure she’s just lonely.”

”She looked vicious,” Dean mumbled, as if he were talking about a rabid dog rather than an elderly woman.

“Whatever,” said Sam dismissively, “you find anything on the town? I still have to look through this book Lily gave me.” 

“Not much. There were some old legends about this place having been some sort of religious high ground for Jewish folk all those years ago; I guess that makes sense since we got some weird Yiddish nonsense over the phone. Still doesn’t explain the disappearances though. We can talk to the families tomorrow.”

“I’ll look into it,” said Sam, dropping the book onto his lap. He tried to hide his wince, it was a lot heavier than he thought. “You get some rest, you look dead in your feet. Both of you. I’m pretty sure you haven’t slept since Jess.”

”I don’t sleep,” said Castiel. Sam didn’t miss the look that Dean threw him.

“Welcome to being a hunter, dude.” 

”Nah, I’m fine Sammy. I don’t sleep either.” 

“He is correct, Dean, you should get some sleep. You are angry when you are tired.” 

“Fuck you, Cas. I thought we were on the same side here.” 

“We are. I will now be sleeping as well to ensure that you do. Therefore, you cannot yell at me. The reasoning is moot.”

Sam cracked open the book across his lap, Dean angrily shucking off his pants, and then his shirt, and tossed them into his bag. The shirt missed completely and sprawled across the nasty floor. Sam wrinkled his nose in disgust. Sam then turned to look at Dean, wide eyed, because Jesus Christ. “Dude.” 

“What?” 

“Your back.”

Dean frowned, trying trying to look over his shoulder, “what about it?”

”Have you gotten that rash looked at, Jesus. It looks like somebody burned you!”

Dean shrugged, shooting a pointed look at Cas as if he could magically fix the problem, “nah, it’s good. Give it a few days and it’ll be gone.”

Sam threw up his hands in exasperation. It was like trying to converse with a stubborn brick wall. Sam tuned out his brother as he shuffled around in the background, tossing pillows and grumbling expletives to himself. He had agreed to share with Castiel, seeing as there were only two beds, and he’d probably be a dick if he made the guy sleep on the floor. And then he’d said something about Sam being freakishly large for his own good, and he took up the whole thing anyway.

Sam jumped when a yelp came from Dean, the book almost flying out of his lap. “What the fuck! Cover hog, give me some of the blanket, you winged dick.” Winged dick? That was a new one. Sam mentally added to to his checklist of viable insults for future reference.

“You have plenty!” 

A small tussle ensued where Dean grappled with his friend for the blanket until they both had a death grip on their end of it, facing away from each other. The tension was tight enough where it couldn’t stretch any farther.

“I am not letting go.”

”I ain’t either, Cas.” 

“Are you guys going to continue to act like children. Jesus, Dean. Take my bed if you want to, it’ll be a while before I decide to sleep anyway.” 

“Nah. Cas can get up. I’m not admittin’ defeat.” 

“I do not lose under any circumstances,” growled Castiel. 

“There’s a first time for everything.”

Sam groaned, burying his head into his hands as the two of them continued quietly bickering to each other. God help him. All he wanted to do was research.

______________________________________

“Hello, Miss. Allen, I’m agent Moscone with the FBI, and these are my partners, agents Hetfield and Tyler.”

Mrs. Allen peeked out from behind the bright orange door, her eyes impossibly wide. The house was a series of obnoxious bright colors, the siding being a vomit green. “Are you here for my electric bill? I’ll have it paid by next Monday, I’ll have my paycheck then.” 

“No, ma’am,” said Dean, “we’re here to talk about the disappearance of your son, Jacob. May we come in, please?”

”So I can pay my bill on Monday?” 

Dean shared an incredulous look with Sam as the door creaked open. “Yes, you can.”

Miss Allen was a stout woman. She stood a good foot and a half shorter than Sam; her hair was a curly mess on top of her head, grey strands of it sticking out everywhere. Her eyes were sunken in, and she hobbled when she walked. Sam observed her knuckles trailing over the wall as she led them to the kitchen. It must have been something she did often, because the paint along the path was slightly duller.

“Do you mind if I go fetch my daughter from upstairs? She was the last one to see Jacob before he… before he disappeared.” 

“Of course, take your time,” said Castiel. “We will wait in your family room.”

As they made their way to the family room couch to wait, Sam took that as an opportunity to study the room. It was rather plain. There were a series of family photos on top of the coffee table, as well as three coasters. The walls were painted beige, and a single photo of Jacob hung above the fireplace. It almost looked like a memorial, and the interior of the house obviously didn’t follow the same terrible scheme as the exterior of it.

Sam’s concentration was broken by the sound of footsteps creaking down the stairs. 

Miss Allen tottered in with a young girl, maybe of about fourteen years following behind her. She had pin straight red hair, wide hazel eyes, and a smattering of freckles across her face. Her skin was rather pale. She didn’t look like her mother at all. Sam frowned as an uneasy feeling tingled down his spine. 

“Hello there,” said Dean. 

Her eyes focused on his brother, “hello.” 

Sam observed Castiel tap Dean’s shoulder, gesturing at the girl with his head. Dean just nodded, and Sam had the idea that he was completely missing something. 

“You’re here about my brother?” She asked almost wistfully. 

Sam nodded, “your mother says you were the last one to see him. Can you please tell us what he was doing when you last saw him, perhaps anything unusual? Did he say anything to you?”

“No. He was normal. I think we were playing chess. What’s your name?” 

“Uh…” Sam was a bit taken back by the question, “I’m Eddie. What’s your name, kiddo?” 

“I’m Lily.” She smiled at him, white teeth glowing in the lamplight. She folded her hands behind her back. “Right, Mommy?” 

“Of course, dear,” Miss Allen’s gaze wasn’t focused. She stared airily at the photo of Jacob above the fireplace, her hands wringing together anxiously at her side. “Be a good girl and go fetch my purse? I think I left the money for the electric bill in there.”

“Okay, Lily. Thank you very much, we will be going now,” said Dean, standing abruptly. Sam didn’t miss the emphasis on the last word. “Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Allen,” he hurriedly stuttered out.

“Yup. Thank you!” Squeaked Sam. 

Dean grabbed his and Castiel’s arms, and dragged them out of the door with record breaking speeds, abruptly closing it behind him. Lily’s pale face gazed at then through the window as they hurried to the Impala.

“I fuckin’ hate creepy children,” said Dean, visibly shuttering, “there was somethin’ so very not right about her. And wait a goddam minute. Wasn’t that creepy ass librarian also named Lily?”

“Hey, Dean?”

”What, Sam.” 

“Do you remember the name of the other missing man, the elderly one?” 

“Yeah, I think it was Harold or somethin’, why?” 

“I think I found a connection.” 

“A connection?” 

“Well, not really. But it’s something. Come on, I have the page marked in the book.”

JESS

“You up for a project?” Bobby asked her that next morning. 

Jess was in the kitchen, making them both breakfast as Bobby fed his dog, Rumsfield  outside. He was this large Rottweiler that barked at anything that moved. Jess hated to be the person that pissed the dog off; he could easily turn them into a chew toy.

“Depends on what it is,” she said with a smirk, dropping a plated omelet in front of Bobby. He raised an impressed brow. 

“This looks damn good,” he said, sounding suspiciously surprised. 

Jess shrugged, “Sam’s a shitty cook. One of us needs to produce quality food.”

Bobby nodded in approval as he dug into his breakfast with gusto. “I need somebody to run into town with me. Don’t worry, I’ll give ya wards so the demon can’t find ya.”

Jess was quick to agree. She was getting restless just sitting in this house all day, and she was dying to get out and do something. “All we gotta do is get some groceries, and some supplies to up the wards here. I ain’t aboutta leave ya alone either.”

Once again, Jess agreed. She didn’t want to be left alone. She dreaded what might happen to her if Bobby wasn’t there to stop it. “Deal, but only if you tell me more about Sam and Dean as kids. It’s my only source of entertainment these days.” 

Bobby rolled his eyes, “I got a few stories for ya. Don’t tell the boys I told you, though.” 

Jess grinned, “cross my heart.” 

As she sat in the passenger seat of Bobby’s beater of a pickup truck, (seriously, that thing shouldn’t be able to run. It was basically held together by hopes and dreams), he told her about the time Sam broke his arm falling out of a tree. “Let me tell ya, I ain’t never seen Dean so panicked before. They were just a couple’a young dumbasses then, but when Dean came ridin’ into my scrapyard with Sam on the handlebars of his bike, arm all bent outta shape, the boy thought John was gonna beat the lights outta him.”

Jess snorted, “how did that even happen?” 

Bobby shrugged, “Monkey see, monkey do. Nine year old Dean climbs a tree to show off, little five year old Sammy can’t let his big brother be better than him.” 

“Aren’t they still like that?” 

“It’s what makes ‘em brothers. Hell, I’d be concerned if they got along with everything they did.” 

“That’s true, but now it’s my turn,” a wicked grin spread across her face, “after Sam’s first big exam in law school, we went out to celebrate afterward when we found out he passed. He got so drunk that I couldn’t find him until the next morning. He was asleep in a bush outside of a bar in his tighty whiteys, with a dick drawn across his forehead.” 

Bobby almost choked on laughter next to her, the truck of hopes and dreams swerving dangerously, “that don’t sound like Sam at all. Guess even he needs to have fun sometimes.” 

Bobby pulled the truck into a parking spot along a strip mall. There were a good amount of people out today, good coverage. “What’s the most dangerous hunt you’ve ever gone on?” She asked as she climbed out of the passenger seat with a grunt. She was more curious to learn about the other things out there. “Sam hasn’t told me much about what he’d gone after.” 

“Tough one,” said Bobby, leading them into a local grocery store, “was in Colorado with an old hunting buddy of mine, Rufus. There was this mansion, real old building in some abandoned estate, people were filing noise complaints left and right, so we decided to check it out.” 

Jess not so discreetly tossed a deluxe pack of Oreos into the shopping cart. Bobby just rolled his eyes and continued on with his story, “turned out to be three different poltergeists holin’ up in the same place. Rufus damn near shit himself, but we only left with minor injuries and bruised egos.”

”poltergeists are real?” She asked. The movie alone had been enough to terrify Jess. She couldn’t imagine being face to face with real thing.

“Yep. They’re just a real nasty form of a vengeful spirit. One thing to learn ‘bout the supernatural world, is that if you’ve heard of it, it probably exists.” 

“Unicorns?” She asked hopefully.

“Except for that,” said Bobby. Jess tried to hide her mild disappointment.

“Well maybe you’ve just never come across one yet,” she said, crossing her arms.

Bobby snorted as he tossed three packs of bacon into the cart with her Oreos, “ain’t nobody ever came across a unicorn that I’ve known. Hell, you might be right, but until I’ve seen livin’ breathin’ proof, it ain’t out there.” 

She shrugged, “fair enough.” 

Bobby paused in his bacon shopping endeavors when his phone rang from his pocket. He pulled it out, then handed it to Jess. “Answer this. I got somethin’ to grab, but I trust a demon wouldn’t be stupid enough to nab you in the middle of a packed grocery store.” 

She took the phone from Bobby, Dean’s caller ID flashing across the screen. Bobby was already halfway across the store when she looked up again. “Hello?” She said into the receiver once she’d answered. 

“Jess?” 

“Yeah, Bobby had to go grab something. I can have him call you back later if this is a bad time…”

”Nah, you’re good. Just tell him what we’re tellin’ you.”

”Okay.”

”Sammy and I might be a little longer than expected. We don’t know what it is yet, but it ain’t a ghost, that’s for sure.” 

“Any word on his friend, Jason?” 

“Nothing yet, but we’re workin’ on it.”

”Where are you now?” She asked curiously.

“Drivin’ back to our shifty motel. Sam thinks he might have somethin’. I’ll call Bobby back when we’re sure what it is. Plus, Cas over here needs his beauty sleep.” Jess jumped when she heard something smack on Dean’s side of the phone, followed by a yelp, and then the phone clattering to the ground. “Fucking—“ she heard as the phone continued to get thrown around.

”Sorry ‘bout that,” said Dean after a moment of silence, “Princess is a little grumpy.”

”Dean Winchester, I swear to all things living—“ she heard in the background, accompanied by what she could imagine what was a snort from Sam. She couldn’t help but giggle at their antics. Dean and Castiel reminded her of a pair of friends that were so close they might as well have been siblings. She hadn’t known them for very long, but based on her character judgement, she took an immediate liking to Dean, and still had a hard time figuring Castiel out. He was reserved, quiet until spoken to. She made it her mission to make the guy laugh at least once. 

“Alright, well, be careful,” she said. 

“Will do, J. Sam says he loves you.” And then Dean hung up. Jess pocketed Bobby’s phone, smiled, and then decided to add a few more essentials to the cart before he came back from wherever the hell he had gone off to.

True to his word, Bobby rendezvoused with her in the produce isle about five minutes later, a small package tucked into the inside of his jacket. She raised a brow at it. “Later,” he said, patting his pocket, “what did the boys want?”

”They think they have a breakthrough on the case, but aren’t sure exactly what it is that took Jason yet. They know it’s not a ghost, though. They’ll call you back later.”

Bobby nodded, holding out his hand to take back his phone. “Ain’t very helpful, but at least they got somethin’. What kinda alcohol you d’ya prefer?” He asked all of a sudden. “Hunter lesson number two, alcohol is your best friend.” 

Jess snorted, “all of it. I’m not very picky.” 

“I was hopin’ to hear that,” said Bobby, grinning at her. 

DEAN

”Lilim?” 

“Yeah,” said Sam, practically shoving the book in Dean’s face, “just hear me out, okay? They’re kind of like a succubus, but more demonic.” 

“Just my cup of tea,” murmured Dean, taking the book of lore from Sam’s hands. “A seductive demon, great.”

The depicted picture of the Lilim was a half naked woman with a forked tail and devil’s horns. Old Lily and creepy child Lily didn’t look like that, though maybe they were capable of possessing a person like a demon or an angel was. Dean’s eyes widened as his eyes skimmed over the description, “they’re said to kidnap children, and seduce men, then drain them of their essence. Fantastic.” That sounded like a terrible way to die to him.

”I hardly think there is anything fantastic about that,” said Cas, looking distastefully at the book. “They are the children of the demon, Lilith.” Dean’s ears immediately perked up at that. The last thing he needed were the offspring of that psychotic demon bitch running around. 

“All the more reason to kill them,” he said, glancing down at the picture again. 

“We don’t know if that’s what they are yet,” said Sam. “Let’s not jump to murderous conclusions.”

“Well either way, it’s gonna die,” said Dean, “it’s worth a shot. How do we kill them? Cas?” Sam looked at him strangely. Dean hoped an angel blade would work on them, but sometimes there were exceptions. Angel blades didn’t work on archangels, or demons of a higher rank like Asmodeus, or, for example, Lilith.

“I am unsure. I am not very familiar with the Lilim, but hypothetically, if they are of the demonic nature, an exorcism might work.”

”And if not?” Wondered Dean. 

“We do more research,” concluded Cas. He groaned. Great. Just what he wanted to do; read books. 

“I found a pattern among the killings while we were at the library,” Cas continued, producing a pile of printed papers from seemingly nowhere. Where the fuck had he stashed those? “I printed them out while you and Sam were arguing.” 

Dean rolled his eyes, “well, let’s see it then.” 

Cas dropped the pile of grainy papers down into Dean’s lap, “the killings are ritualistic to a degree. Three men go missing, all of a Jewish affiliation, every September, nine years apart. Teenage boy, middle aged man, elderly man. These articles date all the way back to the early 1900’s.”

“Well that checks out,” said Sam. “That must mean that Jason was the third man, plus his strange Yiddish voice memo. I remember library Lily telling me that one of her regulars, Harold, went missing.” 

“So she probably killed him,” deducted Dean. “And then creepy child Lily and her older brother. Jason makes three.”

”Alright,” said Sam, “then how do we get them all together? We haven’t tracked down the third Lilim yet. Assuming that’s what they are of course,” he said again.

Cas shuffled through the papers next to him, his eyes rapidly skimming over the pages, “we can summon them,” he suggested. “It would work the same way as summoning a demon; we need a ritual.” 

“Excuse me?” Said Sam, “summon them? I vote no.”

”You’ve been outvoted, Samantha,” said Dean, removing the stack of thick papers from his lap. “I agree with Cas, here. This would be the quickest way to gank all of ‘em at once.”

”Do you even known how to summon a demon?” 

“Yes,” said Cas. “I know the ritual.” 

Dean could practically feel Sam’s bitch face. “Does that not sound a little suspicious, Dean?” He asked, throwing Cas a look. 

“Cas likes to read,” he defended. “He knows everything. So, no, it’s not suspicious,” he said. 

“There is an alternative method,” Cas piped up, “though I suspect Sam would not like this one any better.” 

“Might as well hear it anyway,” said his brother, letting out a disappointed sigh. 

“The Lilim could be considered succubi to a degree. Just because they seem to do this particular ritual every nine years, doesn’t mean that they still don’t target men specifically.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot into his hairline, “so you’re suggesting that one of us poses as demon bait?”

”Well… yes,” mumbled Cas. “However, this would only succeed in killing one of them at a time. I still vote in favor of the ritual.” 

Dean raised his hand, “I second that.”

Sam’s side eye was deadly, but he just shook his head in favor of wringing Dean’s neck. “Fine, but you better know what you’re doing. If I die, I’m coming back to haunt both of your asses.”

”Sounds like a fair trade to me,” said Dean, standing to clap Sam on the back. “Shoot Bobby a call and fill him in on what’s happenin’. Me and Cas will go shopping for ritual ingredients.”

______________________________________

“This was a terrible idea,” announced Sam, watching Dean and Cas set up the ritual. “Is it too late to volunteer as demon bait?” They had managed to track down some sort of abandoned convenience store, which wasn’t hard in whatever sketchy ass town they were in, and the three of them had set up camp inside of it.

“Yes,” said Castiel. He handed Sam a knife, and his brother looked down at it like it might explode. 

“What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?”

”We need an ounce of human blood,” explained Cas. 

“Okay, and? This was your idea.”

”Sam, you’re practically a giant. You’ve got more than enough blood to spare,” said Dean, not to mention that he and Cas both did not, in fact, have human blood. (That still didn’t sit right with Dean, by the way. Thank you, Chuck.)

Sam threw Dean another bitch face before slicing the knife across the palm of his hand without another word. Cas held out a small metal bowl under Sam’s hand, the drops of blood catching in it one by one. Dean’s stomach churned looking at it. 

Cas then set the bowl down in the center of a large spray painted devil’s trap. It was big enough to contain the three Lily’s, assuming that this actually worked. 

“This is insane,” hissed Sam, his eyes laser focusing on Cas as he dropped some kind of incense into the bowl. 

“Hardly,” Cas shot back. “Stand back. The process could be… messy.” 

Dean and Sam both gave the devil’s trap a sizable berth. Cas took a step back himself before he started chanting in verses. Dean recognized the incantation as some sort of Latin and Enochian mix. Sam threw Dean a wide-eyed look that basically said, Dean, what the fuck? 

He shot him one back that said, shut up and go with it. 

As Cas finished his chant, he tossed some kind of grainy looking substance into the devil’s trap, the candles surrounding it flaring up before they snuffed out. Smoke curled around Cas like an eerie fog, but there were no Lilim to be seen.

”Maybe you said a word wrong?” Suggested Dean after another moment of nothing happening.

“I don’t get words wrong,” snapped Cas.

”He said it right,” threw in a low voice. Dean’s hand immediately flew to his side where his angel blade was tucked into his belt, just in case. He hated when ominous voices spoke form unknown locations.

The candles flared back to life again, illuminating the three faces of the Lilim standing centered in the trap. Dean reeled back at seeing their true faces swirling around beneath their vessels. The last time he saw the true face of a demon was right before he was dragged off to hell. As expected, library Lily, and creepy child Lily were both there. A third woman stood in between the both of them; donning the same red hair and pale skin. “Hello, Castiel,” all three of them said in unison. 

The hair on the back of Dean’s neck stood up in anticipation. Sam looked like he was going to piss himself next to Dean. “Dude,” he hissed. “Dude, go back!” 

“Shut the hell up, Sam,” Dean snarled. 

“You’re nervous,” giggled child Lily, looking up at Sam through think eyelashes.

“Shut up,” snapped Cas, visibly losing his patience. “Three men went missing this past week. Where are they?” 

Middle-aged Lily blinked, as if Cas had the audacity to speak to her, “they’re with their new lord, now, silly,” she said, her face splitting into a grin. Dean could see the resemblance to Lilith. They were all creepy bitches. 

Then old Lily’s face darkened, “you know who she is, don’t you Castiel? If you don’t, then I’m sure Dean does!” she grinned, showing off all four of her missing teeth. 

“Lilith,” said Cas. The answer wasn’t hard if they already knew it.

Young Lily giggled again, “yes! Mommy was very happy with her gifts.” Dean threw her a disgusted look. 

“Who’s Lilith?” Stage whispered Sam as the Lilim continued to converse with Cas. 

“I don’t know,” Dean shot back (lied), “but the book said they were created after the demon Lilith. She’s probably their fucked up mother or somethin’.” He could feel a bead of sweat drop down the back of his neck at the lie, but Sam seemed to accept it in the midst of his confusion induced haze.

“Are they dead?” Wondered Cas. 

Middle-aged Lily shook her head with a smile, “no. They’ve just been reborn. They’re better off where they are now.” 

“Alright!” Snapped Dean, already having enough of this, “enough chit-chat. How do we fry these bitches, Cas?” 

“An exorcism,” he replied, “it will work on them.”

”Oh, yes,” said old Lily, “very effective. I have a book on that. Make it quick, then!” 

Before Cas could even begin speaking, Dean grabbed his arm, jerking him away from the Lilim as a realization hit him like a sack of bricks. “Dean!” He hissed, shooting him a scathing look. 

“It’s too easy,” he hissed back. “They’re not even fighting back, look at them.”

“He’s right,” said Sam, finally saying something helpful. 

They all glanced back over at the Lilim, the three of them standing next to each other like a chart demonstrating the process of human evolution. Cas furrowed his brows, his thinking face firmly plastered on. “They’ll all die,” he said after a minute. “If we kill the Lilim, all the men they took will die.” 

“Very good, angel,” said young Lily. Dean glanced over at Sam to ensure that he hadn’t been paying too much attention to what she just said. His face remained impassive, so Dean could only hope he took the phrasing as something a creepy demon child would say. 

“Then how do we kill them?” Asked Sam. 

“Oh, well you could just complete the exorcism,” said middle-aged Lily. “You’ll just have to say bye-bye to Jason!”

Dean knew he had a moral decision to make now. (He hated those). If the men were all with Lilith, that meant they were all in hell. As far as Dean could see, the only way out of hell was via angel airlines, or the demon subway station. The Lilim said they were ‘reborn.’ Dean frowned, trying to understand what they meant by that. 

During his time in hell, Alistair had said that to him more than a few times. “Say yes, Dean,” he would cackle, venom dripping from his voice. “Together we could be reborn. You could be reborn if you stay long enough.” 

“Kill them, Cas,” he said confidently. 

Sam yelped next to him, “Dean! Do you understand what you just said? You’re going to kill them!” 

“They’re already dead, Sam!” He snapped, “They’ve all been turned into demons. There’s nothin’ we can do ‘bout it now.” 

Judging by the way the Lilim’ faces dropped in fear all at once, Dean knew he had gotten it right. “That’s not fair!” Cried young Lily, “you cheated!” 

Dean shot her a wicked grin, “all’s fair in love and war, bitch.” 

Cas started up his chant again with a small smile thrown Dean’s way, and the three of the Lilim let out consecutive wails of pain. Sam covered his ears next to Dean as the three of them started thrashing back and forth, their necks contorting painfully as their vertebrae snapped out of place. 

“This won’t be the end, Dean Winchester,” hissed old Lily. 

All at once, the three of them screamed, black smoke exploding from their mouths and into the ground, straight back to hell. Dean got the shock of his life when the three vessels simply crumbled into a fine grey dust, raining down over the ground like dirt. The last thing he saw were their three matching grins as they blew away with a sudden gust of wind. 

They were silent. 

“I’m gonna throw up,” announced Sam, throughly ruining the moment. 

Dean let out a chortle of laughter, clapping his brother on the back, “suck it up, Sasquatch. Welcome to hunting.” 

Dean threw a careless arm around Cas’ shoulders as they exited the building, not even bothering to clean up their mess. Some poor bastard was going to walk in on that eventually, and wonder who the hell was messing with Satanism. 

Cas scowled at Dean as he mussed his hair up before pulling away, but there was no real malice behind it. He ignored the warmth that spread through his chest when he felt a light touch to the back of his hand.

As they trekked back to the Impala, Sam caught Dean’s arm, pulling him back. Cas threw Dean a questioning look, but he just nodded at him to keep on walking. “What’s up, Sam?” 

“What the hell was that?” He said. 

Dean stared at his brother, genuinely confused, “what do you mean?” 

“That wasn’t normal, Dean, even for us. Do you understand how dangerous that was?” 

“Ain’t that the definition of hunting?” 

Sam scoffed, throwing his hands up in the air, “come on, Dean! Don’t play these games with me. You know something that I don’t.” 

“Please, do tell,” said Dean, crossing his arms, “I’d love to hear what kinda bullshit theory you came up with.” 

“How did you know that those men were all turned into demons? Like, I really hope you were right, otherwise you just killed dozens of innocent people.”  

Dean glared at him, “of course I was right, Sam. Is that really what you think of me? That I’ll just murder people for the hell of it? C’mon dude, that’s low, even for me.”

”I don’t know what to think, Dean. These past few days…” he shook his head, “this isn’t right. None of this is right.” 

Dean sighed, “listen, Sam. I understand that you’re all nervous and shit because of this thing after Jess, but I’m wingin’ it just as much as you are,” and that was true, “you just gotta trust me, man. Two years is a long time, of course we’re gonna have shit we disagree on.” 

Sam just looked at him, eyes unreadable, “okay.”

”Okay?” 

“I trust you, of course I do. I’m just… not used to this. Plus, your friend creeps the hell out of me.”

Dean snorted, “that’s just Cas. The guy’s always been a little strange. Probably has to do with his Jewish upbringing, and all that.” Dean thought that was hilarious, by the way. He was one hundred percent going to keep building onto that story, just to piss Cas off. 

Sam rolled his eyes, “right. Well, I’ll call Bobby and Jess, let them know what happened.” 

When Dean caught Cas’ eye through the side mirror on the way back to the car, he knew the both of them had a lot to talk about. They had to make themselves sound more believable. No matter what happened, Sam couldn’t know about where he and Cas really came from. 

DEAN

”Dean!” Bobby barked from the living room. 

He groaned, dropping the book of lore that might as well have been a cinder block onto the kitchen table. Sam had him doing some shitty research on skin walkers. “Yeah, Bobby?” They’d gotten back late from the hunt the previous night. Sam had immediately hit the hay, not even bothering to take a shower, even though he was covered in sweat, dirt, and ashes from when Dean and Cas accidentally burned down the nature center. Dean filled Bobby in on the smaller details of the hunt after that, giving him his condolences for Jason.

”I need ya to go pick up an order of rock salt and ammo from a buddy of mine today.”

“Really, Bobby?”

”Did I stutter? I need that shit by Friday. It’s Wednesday. You got two days, Dean. It’s prepaid.” 

Dean rolled his eyes, glancing over at Cas, who was engrossed in a Harry Potter novel. “Any good?” He asked, poking him in the cheek as he passed by him. 

Castiel swatted at his hand, and Dean literally felt himself telepathically getting swept off of his feet. He yelped, tumbling to the ground. Cas chuckled from behind him. “No fair!” He whined, “I dunno how to do that yet.”

”Yes, the book is very good.” Dean flipped him off.

”You guys okay down there?” Jess called from upstairs, her voice slightly muffled.

“Yeah, J! Cas just tripped over Bobby’s rug.”

He met a pair of angry blue eyes as he climbed to his feet. He shot Cas a shit-eating grin. “You’re lucky I like you, Dean,” Cas said. 

“Was that a threat?” 

Cas snapped closed Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, his challenging gaze meeting Dean’s, “maybe it was.”

”Right,” said Dean, “well… I’m going to take a shower. Upstairs. In case you were curious.” He watched the angel’s eyes darken as he slowly made his way up the stairs. Please take the bait, he silently begged.

He passed Jess attempting to drag Sam out of the bedroom on his way to the bathroom. Sam groaned, telling her to piss off before Jess flipped him onto the ground from the bed. He landed in a heap on top of his jeans from the previous night with a surprised yelp. He snorted. There was no losing to that girl.

Dean needed a shower badly. He smelled more than ripe, was still covered in nature center ash and Lilim dust, and he was also really hoping that Cas took the bait.

Bobby’s house was surprisingly neat, Dean realized, as he shut the door behind him. He had his towels color coded in the bathroom closet, every single one of them rolled up into a little cylinder. His bathroom was spotless. Dean was pretty sure he could have drank the toilet water and been fine. (Not that he was going to test that theory).

Dean quickly stripped from his t-shirt. The rash on his shoulders was growing more painful by the day. He turned to look at it in the mirror, wincing as it came into view. It looked like somebody had burned him with a hot poker repeatedly. He would know, Alistair enjoyed that more than he should have. Hopefully cold water would soothe the constant burning. 

He flexed his shoulder blades curiously, hissing as pain rocketed through his spine. Was this part of Chuck’s plan, chronic and burning pain? ‘Cause if it was, it sucked ass. 

“Those are your wings, Dean.”

He jumped, almost slamming his face into the mirror as he lurched forward. “Jesus, Cas. Don’t do that.” Dean at least expected him to knock or something. Then who was he kidding, this was Cas. 

Castiel gently grabbed his arms, turning him so Dean’s back was to him. He shuddered when his finger lightly traced around the painful looking rash. It somehow didn’t hurt when Cas did it. “You sure they’re my wings and not some kind of witchy voodoo curse?” 

Castiel snorted, fingers coming to lie still at the base of his neck, just below his hair. “Yes. The same thing happens to all angels when they first start using their wings.” 

“Comforting. How will I know when they’re… usable?” 

“It will no longer hurt,” Cas said simply, his fingers brushing across the small hairs at the base of his neck. Dean swallowed hard. They were both playing a dangerous game; a game that he wasn’t sure he wanted to stop playing. Dean turned around to face the angel.

“You’re taking a shower?” Asked Cas, his head cocking to the side, there was a glimmer in his eyes. 

Dean cleared his throat nervously, “yeah.” 

Cas took a step closer to him, his hands wringing together. He looked up to meet Dean’s eyes, “it would be a shame if we took separate ones and used up all the hot water. I don’t think Bobby would appreciate it.” 

Dean licked his lips, “it would be a shame.” 

“Perhaps we should share then,” he muttered, breath ghosting over Dean’s lips. 

“Perhaps we should.” 

He grinned when Cas’ breath hitched, and pulled away just enough where he could turn the knob of the shower behind him. The warm spray ghosted across his skin as he pulled his arm back. “I agree,” said Cas. “It would be truly tragic if something happened to you and I wasn’t here to help.”

Dean dropped his belt. “Those bars of soap get away from you quickly,” mused Dean. “Never know when you’ll slip and fall on one.”

Cas’ shirt hit the ground, “I’ll hold onto it for you. You know, so you don’t fall on it.” He grinned up at Dean.

”Wouldn’t want anyone else to.” Dean hooked his thumbs through the belt loops on Cas’ pants, pulling him flush to his chest in one quick move. “This is a dangerous game,” he whispered as the angel’s arms wrapped around his waist, repeating his thoughts from before.

“Do you want me to stop?” Asked Cas, catching Dean by surprise as he squeezed his ass through his jeans. Jesus fuck. 

“Come here you fucker,” Dean snapped, finally locking their lips together. He could feel Cas grin, smugness practically radiating from his as his hands slipped below Dean’s boxers, shucking them off in one quick movement.

Dean returned the favor with a newfound kind of eagerness, pulling the both of them into the tiny shower after. Dean ignored the slight stinging on his back, pressing Cas up against the shower wall instead. He let his tongue dart out, slowly licking across Cas’ lower lip, a drop of water catching on it in the process. 

Cas let out a light gasp, pulling away. He just gazed up at him for a second, eyes shining, “Do you know what you do do me, Dean?” 

“I dunno,” he said, letting his hands slide around Cas’ naked waist. His hands were dangerously close to the forbidden fruit, he realized. “You tell me.” Dean would never admit aloud that he had no fucking idea what to do next. 

Never in his life did he think he would look at a dick and think, ‘yeah, I want that.’ Women were easy. They were all soft curves and perky tits. Dean was good at women. Don’t get him wrong, Cas had a nice dick. A really nice one, in fact. Dean just didn’t know what to do with it. He didn’t know what Cas would like. 

“You confuse me,” said Cas, his own hands traveling lower. “I have never wanted somebody as bad as I want you.”

”That’s makes two of us, man,” said Dean, voice crackling embarrassingly. 

“You’re nervous,” Cas announced, leaning closer to Dean. 

Dean huffed out a laugh, letting his fingers graze over the muscles on Cas’ back. “What clued you in?” 

“You hesitated, and I can feel your heart beating quickly.” 

Dean chuckled, letting his eyes slip closed, enjoying the feel of the warm water against his skin, and Cas under his hands. “I’m scared I’m gonna fuck up,” he admitted. “I’ve never touched another dude’s dick before. I’ve never wanted to be with a dude before,” he clarified.

”Then I hope you feel comforted by the fact that I am new to this as well. I will go at your pace, as long as that takes. We can learn together.” 

Dean let out a shuddering breath, gently capturing Cas’ lips again. “What the fuck did I do to deserve you?”

”Hmm. I ask myself the same question,” said Cas. Dean gazed down at him, water running down his face in streams, his always messy black hair plastered to his forehead. Dean didn’t know where Cas got his delusions from. Dean was fucked up. He was broken in so many ways he’d lost count. He was bad for people. He hurt them. “You can let yourself be happy, Dean,” said Cas, probably reading his mind. His hand came up to trace the side of his face. “We have a second chance now, to do things differently.” 

“I know,” he croaked. 

“Good,” said Cas, “then let’s just enjoy this shower together, we don’t have to do anything. I know I will enjoy it.”

Dean grinned, water trickling into his eyes. He pushed back the hair on Cas’ forehead, pressing a kiss there. “Let’s do that,” he agreed. 

______________________________________

“You need some company?” Jess called from Bobby’s front porch. She had a small travel sized bag slung over her shoulder, hands on her hips as she squinted her eyes at Dean through the sunlight. 

Dean finished cleaning up some space in the impala’s trunk, slamming it closed. “You sure it’s safe to come with?” 

She shrugged, “maybe. Maybe not. I’m going to go crazy if I keep staring at the walls of this house. Maybe moving around will even throw him off my trail.”

Dean chuckled. “Maybe. Maybe not.” 

“Smartass,” she said, sidling up to his car. “Where to?” 

“You don’t even know where I’m going? What if I was on my way to a brothel?” 

“We both know damn well you’re not.” 

Dean snorted, “fair point. We’re goin’ to Whitefish, Montana. Bobby needed me to pick up some hunting shit for him. This guy named Rufus has his order.”

”How far?” She asked, popping open the passenger door. She tossed her bag onto the floor.

“Four hours, give or take,” said Dean. “We’ll be back before Friday.” Jess slammed the door closed, obviously making up her mind about coming. 

“Sam know where you’re goin’?”

”I’ll shoot him a text. I’m sure he won’t mind all that much,” she said with a wide yawn, stretching her arms above her head. 

Dean shrugged, “alright, but when he comes for my throat, your ass better be there to protect me.” 

Jess rolled her eyes, “fine. Now let’s fucking go.”

Dean caught a glimpse of Cas’ smiling face from the upstairs bedroom window as he backed out of Bobby’s driveway. He waved at Dean before shutting the curtains. He couldn’t help the small smile that graced his face after. 

Jess cocked her head at him, a smirk lining her lips, “what?” 

“Nothin’,” he said, “just an inside joke.” 

“Uh huh, sure. How long have you and Castiel been boning?”  

Dean’s foot slammed hard on the brakes, and Jess shrieked as she lurched forward into the dash, “God, Jess, we haven’t even left the driveway!” 

“You didn’t need to give me whiplash!” 

“You’ll live,” he snapped, “and we’re not boning.”

”Please,” she said once Dean had finally pulled onto the main road safely, “Sam may be the most oblivious human on planet earth, but the two of you literally walked out of the bathroom together today. After the shower had been running for like twenty minutes. Also, he gives you, like, moon eyes when you’re not looking at him.”

Dean felt his face heat up to the tips of his ears. He cleared his throat, trying to find the words that’ll work, “it’s only been a few weeks, J, not even,” he said. 

“Ahhh,” said Jess in understanding, kicking her feet up on the dash, “new love.”

Dean swatted her feet down, “hey, shoes off the merchandise.” 

“Whatever. Seriously, though. A few weeks? You said you’ve known the guy for two years now, right?”

Dean nodded, focusing hard on the yellow lines of the road. “Yeah,” he said tersely.

He could feel Jess’s gaze on him. He could almost feel what that dreadful realization hit her. “Oh shit,” she said. “Ohhh, shit!” 

He let out a nervous laugh, “what?”

”You're having, like, a gay crisis for him!” She announced as if she had just passed her drivers test. “He’s the first guy’s dick you’ve willingly looked at!”

”What are you, a fucking mind reader?” 

“No, I’m just good at reading people. You don’t exactly strike me as an ‘attracted to guys,’ type is all.”

”I’m not gay,” he mumbled. 

Jess frowned, “maybe not. But you like him, right?” 

“Yeah…” he said, “…a lot, actually. I just don’t wanna fuck it up ‘cause I fuck everything up,” he paused, narrowing his eyes suspiciously, “Does— does it not bother you that I like a dude?”

Jess’s frown deepened, “why should it?”

”I dunno,” he mumbled, letting the hum of the engine calm his racing nerves, “I guess I’m just not used to people being so casual about it.” 

Jess was silent long enough for Dean to worry if he’d said something wrong, “Sam told me your dad was an asshole,” she finally mumbled.

He scoffed, resisting the urge to grind his teeth together. ”You sure you’re not a mind reader?” 

“Who knows, maybe I am,” she said, wiggling her fingers at him, “seriously, though. I could care less if you like dick or not. I think the two of you are adorable.” 

Dean flushed red again, “yeah, well. Just don’t tell Sam yet. I’d want to do that myself, anyway.” 

“Cross my heart,” said Jess, “though I’m sure he wouldn’t care either.” 

“I know,” said Dean, “but sometimes I can’t help but wonder. He did grow up with the same dad I did, after all.”

”Tell me about him, then,” said Jess, changing the topic. “Let’s hear about the famous John Winchester.” 

Dean snorted, “I don’t got much good to say ‘bout the guy. Handed me my first gun when I was five, had me shootin’ it a year later. I grew up in sketchy motels, and raised Sammy myself ‘cause he apparently had better things to do than have children. I think I went dumpster diving more than I went grocery shopping. The real kicker? He was a homophobic asshole. Made me out to me a womanizer, and told me I’d be a pussy if I was anything but that.”

”He sounds real fantastic,” muttered Jess. “I’ll probably kick his ass next time we see him.”

”You’ll have to beat me to it.”

They both shared a laugh after that. Jess wasn’t bad company. Dean thought that the two of them would get along just fine. “So how did the two of you really meet?” She asked, “You gave this whole story about a Jewish farm and a werewolf, but there’s gotta be more to it than that.” 

“You got me there,” said Dean, “he pulled me outta a real tough spot. I was probably at my lowest, actually,” he said, trying not to laugh at the irony of the situation. Lowest, sure. Try hell. “And, yeah, we kinda just hit it off from there.”

”How romantic,” she gushed, putting her hands over her heart, “my hope for true love is restored with the most ambiguous story known to man.” 

“Fuck you,” he said, “I thought my story telling skills were great.” 

“Sure. I’ll let you off the hook for now, but we’re not done here, mister.” 

“Keep tellin’ yourself that. Now it’s your turn. How’d you stumble across my Sasquatch of a brother?” 

“Oh ho ho,” said Jess. “Strap on your good panties, this is a wonderful story.” 

They spent the rest of the car ride talking about random shit. Before he knew it, Dean had a whole new collection of blackmail on Sam that he probably couldn’t even waterboard out of him. 

Sam was only a little bit pissed when he called Dean to ask why he kidnapped his girlfriend.

SAM

”You want a beer?” 

“That would be acceptable.” 

Acceptable? Who the fuck said that a beer would be acceptable? Why not just say ‘yeah, sure,’ or even just ‘yup.’

”Uhh. Okay.” Sam popped open Bobby’s fridge, digging through the leftover food until he came across the six pack buried behind it. 

“You better not be eatin’ my meatloaf!” Bobby roared from upstairs. Jesus, did the guy have fucking super hearing?

“Just getting a beer!” He yelled back up to him. 

Sam awkwardly handed Castiel his bottle, not sure what to do with himself. Dean and Jess had taken a road trip without him, so now he was left to make conversation with Bobby, who did not want to make conversation, or Castiel, who was weird. 

Sam watched as Castiel popped the cap off of the bottle with his thumb like it was no problem, taking a swig of it before setting it down on the table. He smacked his lips together contemplatively.

“Did you know Dean was gonna kidnap Jess?” He asked, trying to make any kind of conversation start. 

“I do not believe he kidnapped her. In the words of Jess, she said she would go insane if she had to stare at these walls any longer. They will be back by tomorrow, anyway.”

”Yeah,” he said absently. 

“I know you worry for her, Sam, but Dean would intentionally not put her in any kind of danger, especially because he knows what she means to you.” 

“I know.” 

Castiel picked back up his bottle, kicked it back, and chugged the rest of the beer like it was water. Sam’s eyes bugged out of his head as he watched the liquid drain from the bottle with record speed. “I guess you needed that?” He asked in slight disbelief. He silently slid another bottle across the table. “just don’t inhale this one. You might throw up, Jesus.” 

“I can assure you that I will not.”

It lapsed into an awkward silence again. Well, at least it was awkward for Sam. Castiel seemed to be content staring at a wall while consuming concerning amounts of alcohol all at once. How Dean even managed to keep something going with this guy was a complete and total mystery to Sam. 

Dean was always pretty good at keeping a conversation going, but the company he chose were generally like minded people; somebody willing to catch a drink for a night or two, and then they’d never talk to each other again. Dean and Castiel were polar opposites in his eyes.

“Did you hunt before you met Dean?” Wondered Sam. “Or did he kinda just drag you into this.” 

For the first time ever, Sam saw him crack a smile, “I did not hunt before Dean, but I willingly went with him. I find his company wonderful.” 

“You may be the first person to ever say that,” snorted Sam. 

Castiel drained half of his new bottle before setting it down again, “Dean is an amazing person to have as a friend,” he said, “I do not believe that you give him enough credit.” 

Sam’s eye twitched, because who the hell was this guy to lecture him on his own brother’s antics? But then again, people changed a lot in two years. Sam kept his mouth shut. “Maybe not. It’s just been a long time, dude. It’s strange to just be around him again, you know?” 

He nodded, “yes. It is indeed a lot to take in at once.” He finished off the bottle, and Sam shook his head in disbelief. How was he not pissing himself right now? 

“Right,” muttered Sam for the umpteenth time, “well I’m just gonna… yeah. I have a thing.” 

“I understand, Sam.” 

“Okay….”

Sam couldn’t have left the kitchen quicker. He probably needed another beer, or three.

”Any progress with the android down there?” Asked Bobby as Sam passed by his bedroom. He was hunched over a desk, a pile of papers and notes surrounding him like a hurricane. 

“No, the guy's impossible.” 

“Dean really knows how to choose ‘em,” chuckled Bobby, tossing a handful of papers to the ground. 

“Tell be about it,” mumbled Sam. “I’m gonna go shower or something to take the edge off.”

”Don’t wear out my hot water tank. Dean already put a dent in that thing with that beauty shower he took this morning.”

JESS

”Don’t stop, believinnnnnng! Hold on to that feeelllinnnng!” Dean belted out, the car going about sixty over a speed bump. His voice actually wasn’t that bad. She could imagine that if he actually tried, he would sound much better.

”Streetliiigght, peopleeeeeAHHHH,” Jess shrieked as the Impala gained air the next time Dean hauled ass over a bump. “Read the fucking signs!” She cried, “it literally says ‘slow down’, Dean!” 

“I’ve got things to do, and places to be,” he said, turning the blaring radio down a little bit so he could actually hear Jess speak.

“Yeah, like where? It’s still, like, three hours until we get back anyway.” 

“I can make it two and a half,” he said confidently. “And for your information, I have a hot date with Cas’ ass when I get back.” 

“Oh my god, please do not,” she said, fake gagging, “I really don’t need to know about your sex life. At all. That’s like me saying how wonderfully large your brother’s di—“

”Okay! That’s enough of that, thank you very much.” 

Jess smirked “now we’re even.”

Dean grinned wolfishly at her, taking a violent turn onto an exit. The car behind then laid on the horn. Jess slammed into the door, her seatbelt locking up over her waist, “asshole!” She barked, punching Dean in the arm hard. The guy barely flinched, and Jess tried to hide how much that hurt her hand.

Fresh bags of rock salt and ammo crashed around in the truck. She sincerely hoped that Dean hadn’t broken one of the bags open with his dangerous driving. Bobby didn’t seem much like the forgiving type. 

Rufus had been all business. They were in and out within ten minutes, and after stopping at a slightly sketchy diner for a meal, she and Dean were already on their way back to Souix falls. 

“You know how to shoot?” Dean asked once the song changed to something calmer and less screamable. 

Jess frowned, “a gun?” 

“Nah. Darts. What the hell do you think I’m talkin’ about?” 

Jess threw Dean a scathing look, “funny, and yes, for your information. I used to hunt with my parents. Er… the non-monster type of hunting.” 

Dean nodded, accepting her answer with a nod of approval, “that’s good. One less thing Sammy and I gotta teach you.” She turned her head at that. Teach her. They obviously planned on keeping her around long enough to give her the hunter’s crash course 101.

“I’m going to choose to take that as a compliment.” 

Dean snickered, reaching his hand down to slip his phone out of his pocket. It buzzed in his hand, and he tossed it over to Jess, who just barely managed to catch it before it hit the ground. “answer that for me,” he said. Don’t say please or anything, geez.

Jess rolled her eyes, looking down at the screen,”it’s an unknown number.” 

“Answer it anyway.” 

Jess fought the urge to roll her eyes again, and pressed the answer button, putting it on speaker so both of them could hear it. Dean turned the radio all the way down. “Hello?” Said the voice on the other end of the phone. It was a woman. She sounded confused.

”Uh, hi?” Said Jess. “Can I help you?”

She could practically hear the girl on the other end of the phone do a double take, “shit, I’m so sorry. I thought that this was still Dean’s number.” 

“It is!” He called from next to Jess, “I’m just drivin’. Whose this?” 

“It’s Cassie?”

Jess was prepared this time for when the car swerved again, glowering at Dean. “Cassie?” He said, “why’re you callin’ me?” 

“I know I said I wouldn’t, but I need your help. There’s somebody murdering people here. I think it’s racially motivated…. And… it’s weird.”

Dean’s fingers tightened over the steering wheel, “fuck I forgot,” he muttered causing Jess to glance over at him in confusion. “Still in Mississippi?” He asked. 

“Same house,” replied Cassie, sounding more than relieved. “Thank you, Dean.” Technically, he hasn’t said yes to anything yet.

“I’ll be there in less than two days. Lemme know if anything else happens, Kay?” 

“Yes, yes, of course. Goodbye, Dean. Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

”Seeya, Cassie.” The phone hung up with a click. Dean’s face remained impassive as he stared at the road, his lip twitching. His chipper mood from before seemed all but gone. 

”Old friend?” Wondered Jess. 

“Ex,” snipped Dean. 

“Oh,” replied Jess, “well, shit.” 

“Call up Cas for me,” he said suddenly. He obviously did not want to talk about it, “tell him to grab Sammy, too.” 

Jess wordlessly nodded, scrolling through Dean’s contact list until she came across Cas’ name. Dean had it entered as ‘Cas :)).’ She couldn’t help but smile a little bit at it. 

Castiel picked up on the first ring. “Dean,” he said, sounding relieved for some reason, “will you be back soon? I cannot take th—“

“And Jess.” 

“Oh, hello, Jess.” She wasn’t sure if he sounded disappointed or not.

”Grab Sam. Dean’s got news.” She said.

“Yes, of course.” 

There was the sound of scuffling on the other end of the phone, followed by a few muffled exchanged words that got progressively more aggressive. “Dean, Jess?” Sam spoke this time around. 

“Hey, Sammy. Somethin’ came up. I might be returning your girl to you a little later than you thought.” 

“Dean I fucking swear to goddam Jesus Christ if you—,”

”It’s fine, Sam. An old friend called, she’s in Mississippi. Said that there’s a pattern of weird racially motivated murders or somethin’ that needs investigating.” He put an emphasis on the word ‘weird.’

“Dean, that’s halfway across the country!” 

“I am inclined to agree with Sam.”

”You better have my ammo!” Bobby shouted in the background. 

“Maybe you could meet us there?” Suggested Jess, silently agreeing that she was going with Dean. She was already here, so why not? “We’re only about two and a half hours from you guys if we turn around now. Dean will send you the location.” 

“What if something happens to you?” Argued Sam. “We can’t promise that you’re safe yet.”

”Not a single blonde hair on her little head will be harmed, Samantha,” promised Dean. “Pack your shit. You too Cas.” 

“I will see you soon, then,” said Castiel without hesitation. 

“Devoted man,” Jess mouthed to Dean. He flipped her off with a scowl.

“Is this really that important?” Said Sam. 

“She’s an old friend, dude. Plus, I owe her a favor.” 

“Sam is coming,” said Castiel (though it sounded like Sam would rather not come), “we will meet you in Mississippi. Text me where you’re going.” 

“Will do, buddy,” he said. Castiel hung up on the other end, Dean making grabby hands for his phone when Jess was finished with it.

”Eyes on the road,” threatened Jess as she handed it back to Dean. “Anyway, tell me about this Cassie.” 

Dean groaned, “there’s not really much to tell. I dated her for a bit, it didn’t work out. It’s been a few years since I’ve last seen her.” 

Jess nodded, “how ironic is it that you went from Cassie, to Cas?”

”Dude,” said Dean.

“Also, when your man drives halfway across the fucking country for you, don’t make him feel jealous or anything. Take it from me, current relationships and exes don’t get along.” 

Instead of some crass insult that she expected, Dean just gave her a soft smile, “trust me, I ain’t gettin’ rid of Cas that easily. I still care about Cassie, but there’s no way in hell I’m dropping Cas for her.” 

“That’s the spirit!” Said Jess, clapping her hands together.

Dean snorted, “I can’t believe you took up the fucking position of my relationship counselor.”

“Somebody has to,” she sighed.  “Oh! Turn this up, I love Nickelback.”

Dean was silent for a long moment, “you did not just call Metallica Nickelback.” 

“Oops?”

”I cannot believe you right now. You’re almost as bad as Sam; shit taste in music.” 

“Oh my god, it’s not that deep.” 

“It is though! You have deeply wounded me.” 

Dean did a u-turn in the middle of the interstate to reroute them to Mississippi. 

SAM

Sam sat stiffly in the drivers seat of Bobby’s junky truck, Castiel sitting even more stiff in the passenger seat. Literally. The guy might as well have been a lamppost. Neither of them had spoken in the hour that they’d been driving. 

Sam glanced over at Catsiel, awkwardly meeting his weirdly glowing blue eyes before clearing his throat and turning away. The guy had a staring problem.

”You do not like me very much,” said Castiel, once Sam had refocused on the road.

Sam thinned his lips, “I don’t know you.” 

“You never know somebody the first time you meet them.”

Sam opened his mouth, and then closed it. He had a point. Fuck the guy and his logic, “I just don’t really think we have anything in common,” he elaborated. 

“We have Dean in common.”

Sam huffed out a breath, “yeah, I guess so.” He drove for another ten minutes of painful silence before saying something else, “I wonder who his so called ‘old friend’ is.” 

Castiel shrugged next to him, “I haven’t the slightest idea.” Sam barely noticed him frown. Barely.

”Maybe it was an old one night stand or something.”

”Maybe,” echoed Castiel. He turned away from Sam to look out the window, his frown deepening. How the fuck was Sam supposed to start a conversation with this guy when he sulked like that.

“So, uh. Dean got you into hunting?” 

“Yes.” Sam almost threw his hands up, but he was driving. He didn’t need to die today of all days.

“Dude. Please say something other than one word at a time. You’re making me nervous.” 

“My apologies. That was not my intention.” Did he always speak like a dictionary? Sam slowly sucked in a breath to compose himself, counting backwards from ten before he let it back out. 

“Something is bothering you,” announced Castiel. “Other than the fact that your are perpetually annoyed by my presence.” Sam tried to hide the slight pink tint to his cheeks. Apparently he wasn’t as good at hiding things as he thought. 

“I’m just worried about Jess.” 

For the first time ever, Sam saw Castiel smile out of the corner of his eye, “I can assure you that she is safe with Dean. He knows what he is doing.” 

“I sure hope so. I’m gonna kick his ass for taking my girlfriend, anyway.” 

“I do believe Jess asked to go with him. You cannot keep her locked up in Bobby’s forever. One way or another, the demon will find her eventually. It’s only a matter of time.” 

Sam thinned his lips. As much as he hated to say it, Castiel was right. Maybe keeping her moving was a good way to throw him off of their trail. “Maybe you’re right.” 

“I know I am right,” he deadpanned. “There are very little times where I am not.” Okay, asshole. Way to be Mr. Confident. 

“Tell that to Dean and he might just murder you.”

”Yet I still sit in this truck. Contrary to popular belief, Dean is willing to listen to you if you approach the situation without attacking him first.”

”The fuck are you? The Dean whisperer?” 

Castiel snorted, “hardly. I just listen to him when he needs me to. He has lived far too much of his life getting swept under the rug, as one would say. His opinions have rarely been validated, especially by your father.”

Sam’s hand tightened on the steering wheel minutely. His knuckles whitened. He listened to Dean. He listened to him just fine. “I have been kind of a dick to him, haven’t I.”

”Would you dislike me even more if I said yes?”

Sam sighed, “no. I probably needed to hear it.” 

“Dean does say I am good at giving constructive criticism. Though I cannot be sure if he was serious or not, because he Dutch-ovened me after saying that,” Castiel shuddered, “it was terrifying.”

Sam couldn’t help the small snort he let out, “of course he would do that.”

______________________________________

Two hours later, Castiel was passed out in his seat, head leaning against the window. The guy could at least offer to drive, or something.

His face was twisted up in a way where he looked like he was in pain, his eyes moving rapidly under his lids as his hands twitched at his sides. He must be dreaming. 

Sam focused back on the road. He was on a long stretch of empty highway, not another car in sight. It was also getting late. The sun was setting in the distance, and it would soon be dark out.

“No,” Sam heard Castiel mumble next to him. He furrowed his brows, glancing over at him again. He was still asleep, but it was now apparent that his dream wasn’t very pleasant. Maybe Sam should wake him up? “No,” he said again, his head falling to the side as he let out a small gasp. 

“Dude,” said Sam, trying to focus on him and the road at the same time. 

“Stop,” he said, arm flailing out and almost catching Sam in the side of the face. 

“Castiel,” he said, this time a little bit louder than before.

He showed no signs of waking up. He stopped his sleep fighting for a minute, and Sam thought that he was safe to look away from him and focus on not crashing the car in the middle of nowhere. He was wrong. 

As soon as he turned his eyes to the road again, Castiel let out a shuddering gasp next to him, like he was taking a breath after being submerged underwater for more than a minute. He bodily jerked forward, fists swinging out, and connecting with the dash, “NO!” He cried for the third time. 

Sam swerved the car as Castiel’s fist barely missed him again, the man finally jerking awake when he was thrown to the side. His eyes were wild, and he was breathing heavily. Sam noticed the unshed tears shining in the corners of his eyes. He looked around him, confused. “Dean?” He asked. 

“No, dude,” said Sam, speaking slowly, just in case he decided that Sam was a threat again, even though he was awake now. “It’s Sam.” 

Castiel blinked his watery eyes, “oh.” 

Sam snorted, “don’t sound disappointed or anything… are you okay though?” 

“Oh… yes. I just had a disheartening dream.” 

“So a nightmare,” he deadpanned. “What were you seeing?” He was genuinely curious.

Castiel looked away from him, gazing at the sunset before answering Sam, “the end of the world.”

DEAN 

One thing Dean didn’t think about when he and Cas came back, was how jarring it might be to relive some of his previous cases. This one took the cake so far. 

It wasn’t like he’d forgotten about Cassie, he kind of just pushed her to the back of his mind. That kind of happened when the devil threatened to destroy the planet (more than once). Jess gave him a side eye as he stared at Cassie’s house, the engine to the car long since shut off. “You’re stalling,” she said. 

“I’m not.”

”You’ve been sitting here for ten minutes, Dean.”

”I’m giving myself a mental pep talk.” 

“So, you’re stalling,” she deadpanned. 

Dean scowled at her, pointedly shoving the driver’s side door open. Cas and Sam should be about two hours out from them, maybe a little bit more now. “Let’s go,” he snapped, slamming the door back closed. He ignored Jess’s badly hidden eye roll.

Dean swallowed hard as he walked up the rickety steps of her front porch. It was kind of like having déjà vu over and over again, every moment of every day. “You want me to knock?” Asked Jess, crossing her arms. Dean realized that he’d been staring at the door. 

“No,” he mumbled, rapping his knuckles against the smooth wooden surface. He had to withhold himself from slamming his whole fist through it by accident. Or on purpose. Who knew at that point.

Cassie answered within seconds, which wasn’t long enough for Dean to prepare himself. Dean blinked, taking in her grinning face, curly black hair framing it. “Dean,” she said, sounding all too relieved.  

He cleared his throat, glancing over at Jess, “hey, Cassie.” 

She took a step forward, likely to pull him into a hug, but paused when she spotted Jess hovering next to him, “whose this?” She asked, frowning. 

“Oh,” she said, stepping forward so they could shake hands, “I’m Jess.” 

Cassie nodded, accepting her hand. “I’m Cassie, but you probably know that already,” her eyes flicked over to Dean then, “why don’t you guys come on in.” 

Dean already knew how this case ended. He knew what he needed to do to make sure nobody got hurt in this town again, but he couldn’t solve it too quickly. No. It would raise too much suspicion. (Specifically on Sam’s end).

He’s gonna figure it out, said his brain. Dean should probably give his inner monologue a name at this point. 

No he won’t, shut up.

“There’s been this truck,” Cassie started babbling, getting straight to the point. Dean winced as her eyes teared up, “it’s targeting black men. My dad was one of them. I know I sound fucking crazy, but there was nobody driving it. The divers seat was empty, and I watched as it ran my dad right off the road. He’s been one of four people so far.” 

“So a ghost?” Wondered Jess, glancing at Dean for clarification. 

“Uh, maybe.” He plopped himself down into an armchair in Cassie’s living room, his hands nervously wringing together. 

“I don’t know,” said Cassie, “but… since you know,” she waved her hands in Dean’s general direction, “since you… hunt this stuff. I figured that you were the best person to call,” she then glanced at Jess, “you and your… girlfriend?” 

Dean looked at Jess, who then looked at Dean. The two of them blinked, holding eye contact for exactly five seconds, and then burst into a fit of spluttering laughter, “fuck no,” said Dean. “Jess here is my brother, Sammy’s girl. We were just roadtrippin’ it when you called me.” 

Cassie flushed, “right. Sorry,” then she frowned again, “your brother?” 

He nodded, “Sam’ll be here in about two hours to help us out. My friend, Cas, is coming with him.”

Cassie lifted a brow, “Cas?”

He chuckled, “yeah.”

“Right,” Jess piped up. “So the creepy truck. What else do you know about it?” 

Dean could just about kiss Jess’s feet right now. Cassie just sighed. “Not much. There was only one set of tire tracks at each collision sight, no sign at all that truck had been there in the first place. It just doesn’t make sense,” Cassie looked at her lap, “nobody else would believe me.”

Dean gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, “I do.”

”Me too,” Jess piped up, “trust me, I’d believe anything now. A demon tried to murder me and my boyfriend in our sleep.” 

Cassie just stared at her, “a what tried to do what now?”

”Nothing,” said Dean, shooting a look at Jess “that’s beside the point. I’ll do whatever I can to help.” 

Cassie just nodded, “okay. You have no idea how much I appreciate this, Dean.”

He grimaced slightly, but covered it up with a smile, “just doin’ my job.” 

Dean jumped when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He almost cried in relief when he saw a text from Cas lighting up his screen. 

Cas :)): 6:34 a.m

>We are one and a half hours away, Dean.

>Sam thinks that he can get there faster. 

You: 6:34 a.m

> I’m sure he can

>if he drives anything like me 

Dean watched as the bubbles indicating Cas was typing appeared and disappeared on his screen a few times. He frowned. Cassie and Jess made small talk in the background when they noticed his attention was elsewhere; something about demons.

Cas :)): 6:36 a.m

>Cassie is your previous relationship, correct? 

>Sam didn’t tell me, but I do recall you telling me about this case quite some time ago.

You: 6:36 a.m

>ya

>her dad got hit by a racist truck 

Cas :)): 6:36 a.m

>Oh…

>Condolences 

>Does she giggle and flip her hair when she talks to you? 

>I read in a magazine that those are two of the three actions a girl will preform from the flirting trifecta.

Dean just stared down at his phone, not sure if he should laugh or not. He remembered what Jess told him on the car ride down; essentially, don’t be a dick and fuck it up. Dean repeated that to himself like a mantra. 

You: 6:37 a.m

>doesn’t matter 

>her tits are nowhere near as nice as ur ass

>:))

Cas :)): 6:37 a.m

>I am aware that I should take that as a compliment from you. 

>Thank you, Dean. 

>Your ass is satisfactory as well. 

> <3

Dean stared down at that little emoticon heart, his own beating against his chest like a drum. What did Cas mean by that? What did he mean? Dean swallowed hard, slipping his phone back into his pocket. 

“Sam?” Asked Jess, once she noticed him doing that. 

“Cas. They’re almost here.” 

______________________________________

Cassie watched from her porch as Sam pulled up in one of Bobby’s old junkers. It rattled like a can of nails, and the brake squealed painfully as Sam threw it into park. Dean was mildly impressed that the thing made it all the way from South Dakota to Mississippi. 

“Is that them?” Asked Cassie, head peeking out from behind her front door. 

Dean nodded, fighting to keep the grin off of his face as Cas clambered out of the passenger seat, wearing a pair of slightly too large jeans, and a nicely fitting sweater. His hair was absolutely wild, per usual. “Cas looks like he just slept through a tornado,” giggled Jess. Dean was inclined to agree with her.

”Oh,” said Cassie quietly behind him. 

Dean frowned, “what?” 

“I… I thought Cas was a girl…,” was it just Dean, or did she sound relieved? Dear God, he could not do this today. 

“Hey, Sammy!” He called out, grinning widely at his brother. 

Sam spared him a half-assed smile, but Jess was already flying past him and into Sam’s arms. He wrapped them around her waist, burying his face into her hair. “I will shave your head in your sleep if you kidnap her again, Dean,” Sam threatened. “No, you know what? I’ll dye it bright pink.”

“He didn’t kidnap me. I asked to come with him,” mumbled Jess, her voice muffled against Sam’s shirt, “you’re crushing me, Sam.” 

He grinned sheepishly, loosening his grip around her a little, “sorry.” 

“See Samantha, nothing to worry about. Me and Jess are besties now, right J?” 

“You know it, asshole,” she said, throwing him a grin. Sam looked between them like Dean had just said that eats cement with his Cheerios for breakfast and washes it down with a fresh cup of motor oil.

Dean lingered back, and gave Cas a side hug when he sidled up to him, discreetly pressing a kiss to top of his head when everybody else had started to head inside. Cas’ shy smile was totally worth it. 

“So you’re Cassie, I gathered,” said Sam, once Dean had stepped into the house with Cas again.

She smiled, “yes. And you’re Sam.” 

Sam leaned back against her countertop with an affirmative nod, smirking at Dean, “so, how do you two know each other?” 

“We used to date a while back,” Cassie said, shooting Dean a small smile. “Didn’t work out, though.” Obviously.

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p.’ He tried not to look at Cas, because he could feel his burning gaze next to him. 

“Okayyy,” interrupted Jess, “the case. Racist truck and all that. How do we even manage to kill a truck?” 

“Wait, what?” Said Sam, “please fill me in. How the fuck could a truck be racist?” 

Cassie begrudgingly retold her story to Sam and Cas as Dean stared absently at a small hole in the wall. What was he even doing? Now, of all fucking times, it had finally hit him. 

He and Cas had a second chance. What the fuck were they supposed to do with it? As far as he was concerned, Azazel was still out there, and Heaven and Hell both wanted Micheal and Lucifer to duke it out to the death, riding his, and Sam’s meatsuits. How was he supposed to stop that from happening? 

“Dean,” said Sam, startling him out of his thoughts. 

“Huh?” 

“You okay, dude? You’ve been kinda spacey today.” 

“Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat, “just thinking about the case. Maybe a vengeful spirit?” 

“Could be,” said Sam, “I’ll have to do some research on it.” 

Cas cocked his head next to Dean, his blue eyes questioning. Are you okay? Cas’ mouth definitely had more moved.

Dean almost flew out of his seat, causing Jess, Cassie, and Sam to all glance at him with mild to moderate concern. “Sorry,” he said, “just, uh. Never mind. I think I’m just fuckin’ tired. Please ignore me.” 

“Okayyy,” said Sam. “You need to get laid or something, dude, Jesus.” 

I can pray to you, Dean, like you can pray to me. You can hear me now. 

He swallowed hard, eyes flicking over to where Sam and Cassie were locked in a discussion about what could have caused the deaths. 

Angel radio? 

Yes, Dean. 

You heard me? 

Cas smiled, yes. 

Oh… cool. I’m okay, dude. 

Cas obviously wasn’t seeing through his bullshit, but Dean suspected that it would look weird if he and Cas just stared at each other, unblinking, for more than a few seconds. “It’s gotta be some kind of spirit,” he said, proud that he kept his voice from cracking. 

“You’re probably right,” said Sam, “but it wouldn’t harm anybody to do some more digging. Jess and I’ll go hit the sheriff. Still got  my fake ID?” 

Cassie raised a questing brow at Dean as he tossed the keys to the Impala at Sam, “glove box,” was all he said before Sam was flitting out of the door with his girlfriend in tow. 

An awkward silence fell over the room immediately. “Cas, was it?” Said Cassie after a moment. 

“Castiel,” he said cooly, narrowing his eyes at her. Dean swallowed the lump in his throat. ‘Exes and current relationships don’t get along,’ came Jess’s voice in the back of his mind. 

“Right… Castiel. Can I borrow Dean here for a moment? Help yourself to any beverages if you want one. They’re all in the fridge.” 

Dean locked eyes with Cas, and the angel just gave him a small nod, face betraying no emotion. He laid a hand on his shoulder before following Cassie into her room. 

“What’s up?” Asked Dean, trying to act as casual as he could when he basically knew where this conversation was going, (or where Cassie wanted it to go.)

”I think we need to talk,” she said. No conversation in the history of conversations ever ended good when it started like that. 

“Probably,” he said. 

She blanched at him, “probably? Dean, there’s a lot we have to cover. First of all, how shitty our relationship left off. I… I feel terrible about it.” 

Dean smiled, “I’m sorry, Cassie. I really am. I think that maybe I shouldn’t have told you about what I, what we do. Kinda a dick move on my end.” 

Cassie looked thoughtful, “maybe not. Things might have worked out differently, anyway.” 

Dean would be lying if he said that he hadn’t thought about that at least once. If he had dropped everything and decided to be with Cassie simply because she made him happy, where would he be today? Probably dead, because then there would be nobody to stop the fucking apocalypse.

He never would have gone to Stanford for Sam, and they never would have killed Azazel. He would have gotten his hands on Sammy eventually, anyway, and then nabbed Dean when he least expected it. There was really no good way for this shit to play out. 

“Maybe,” said Dean, “but there’s no changing’ the past.” How fucking ironic was that statement? She didn’t need to know that, though. 

“No,” she said, taking a step forward, small smile on her face. Dean narrowed his eyes, “but we can mend it, can’t we?” 

Dean sucked in a breath, gently pressing his hand to her chest as she started to move toward him again. “We can’t,” he said softly, the words leaving his mouth before he even thought about it. “We can’t, Cassie.”

A look of sadness, and slight hurt, passed over her face, but she nodded in understanding, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—“

”No, no, Cassie, it’s not you. It’s just… there’s someone else.” 

She frowned, “oh. Well… I hope you got what you were looking for in her.” 

“Him.” Fuck it. He was never gonna see her again after this, anyway. To all hell if she thought he was disgusting like his dad would. His job was to kill a ghost and get outta dodge. 

Cassie physically did a double take, “what?” 

“Him,” repeated Dean. “‘She’ is a ‘he,’ and I think he’s probably digging though your fridge right now for a drink so he doesn’t look rude. Cas is good like that.” 

“Oh,” said Cassie, “oh— my god. I didn’t expect that… at all. When— when did you start—” she waved her hands at him, “men?” She squeaked out the last word. 

Dean snorted, “a few weeks ago.” 

“So—“ 

“Yes. It’s new. I’ve never so much as thought about dick before I met Cas, but that’s not important right now. What important, is that we stop the thing that killed your dad, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” she agreed, bobbing her head up and down, “okay.” She shuffled awkwardly on her feet, “Can— can I at least get a hug, so I know we’re okay?” 

He smiled, “‘course you can.” 

And that was that. Dean’s dignity lived to see another day, and Cas glowed with happiness the rest of the day when Dean retold him the events of what happened with Cassie.

He didn’t miss the slightly curious looks she would shoot them when they stood closer than a foot apart, but he just chose to ignore it. Not everyone has to like it, he told himself. 

______________________________________

The rest of the case went pretty smoothly, (minus Cassie’s brush with death, but that happened last time too, so it was all good). 

Dean nudged Sam towards the newspaper article regarding Cyrus Dorian, who was the vengeful ghost tacked onto his death machine on wheels. 

They talked to the mayor (who died later that day), and then an old flame of Cyrus Dorian, who basically outed him for being a racist prick, and then burning an entire church filled of children alive. 

Cas had been particularly disturbed at that part, ranting about how sinful it was to defile a holy ground in such a disgusting way. 

That then led to the lovely story about how Cyrus got into a brawl with one of his friends, Martin, and Martin ended up on top after capping him with a baseball bat and drowning him in a lake in that damned black truck. 

Long story short, Dean went on a suicide mission into the lake to haul out the truck so he could torch the bones that resided inside of it, that was after Sam got chased down by the ghost of said truck. 

It was the end of the case that three Dean off, because it hadn’t happened the first time around. Hell, he would definitely remember if it happened the first time around. 

He and Cas had been cleaning up the charred bits of metal and bone, everyone else having left to safely transport Cassie back to her home when it happened. 

“Dean Winchester,” a voice boomed behind him. 

He and Cas whirled around, coming face to face with a woman. She was tall, almost as tall as Dean, and had pin straight brown hair down to her ass. Her choice of attire was interesting. She donned a bright orange crop top decorated with animated dicks, and booty shorts with a matching print. She had a slight smirk on her face that looked all too familiar. Dean frowned. “Who the fuck are you?” 

The woman chuckled, “surprisingly, I think you should know that. If not,” she grinned, “I’m sure Casanova over here does.” 

Dean could hear Cas’ breath hitch next to him, his body stiffening, “Gabriel,” he said. 

Dean reeled back as if he’d been slapped, “Gabriel? Well, fuck. This vessel sure is a step up from your last one, both literally, and figuratively.” 

“If I knew what vessel you were talking about, I’m sure that I could come up with a viable insult. So until then, fuck you, you bow legged heathen.” 

“Gabriel,” snapped Cas, “you did not come here to insult Dean.” 

“Right you are, little brother,” she said.  “I came here because I sensed a disturbance in the force.”

Cas blinked in confusion, looking at Dean, “I did not understand that reference.” 

Dean sighed, “remind me to make you watch Star Wars.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” said Gabriel. A grin spread across her face, “you two are way out of your time, aren’t you, which I find very interesting.” 

Cas started to respond next to him, but Gabriel held up a hand to silence him, “now, now. Before you get your panties in a twist, I won’t tattle on you. I’m more curious than anything. Who sent you?” 

“God?” Said Dean, “the fuck else would you want me to say?” 

“Seriously?” said Gabriel, “who the hell actually sent you?” 

“No, he is telling the truth,” defended Cas, “it was our father.” 

Gabriel frowned, still not looking like she believed them all that much, “why? We haven’t seen daddy dearest in eons. What made him crawl out of his little hidey hole?” 

“The end of the world, if that isn’t a good enough reason,” mumbled Dean. 

Gabriel scoffed at them, “what the fuck did you guys do! You,” she said, looking at Dean, “aren’t even human. And you are supposed to be human in this current year. Best not let the other angels find out.” She looked smug. “That could mean very bad news for you.” No shit. The angels were bad news for him even when he was human. 

“God juiced me up a little bit.” 

“A bit? You’ve got wings, my friend. Feathers, bones, the whole nine yards! I think that’s a little more than a bit.” 

“He wanted to ensure that we did not fail this time,” said Cas, taking a cautionary step towards Dean. 

Gabriel’s eyes remained fixed on the both of them for a long moment before she sighed, “as much as I would like to continue this conversation, gentlemen, I have to go now. Duty calls. Duty, meaning my other annoying siblings. Know I will be back, though! They do say I’m too curious for my own good.” 

She then disappeared with the sound of flapping wings, the smell of chocolate, a pile of lollipops on the ground, and a single, sparkly dildo, being the only things left that she was even there in the first place. She needed a better sign off than a dildo, though Dean admired the style.

“We’re fucked!” Dean announced. 

“We can trust Gabriel,” countered Cas, but even Cas didn’t seem so sure. 

“How the fuck would he, she, whatever! even know that we don’t belong here?” 

Cas shrugged, “I don’t know. Gabriel always  knows a lot of things that she should not.” 

Dean thinned his lips, throwing his hands up before closing his eyes, “okay. Another issue for another day. Let’s get back to the others.” 

Cas nodded, agreeing with him, and reached down to lace their fingers together. Dean let him, because why wouldn’t he.

DEAN (PRESENT)

Dean shouldn’t have let down his guard. He hadn’t expected something like this to happen so soon. Of course, when was his luck ever that good? 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He mumbled to himself, straining against chains that bound his wrists to the concrete wall above his head. See, Dean had no doubt that he could snap then in half like they were paper if they were normal chains, but these ones hurt really damn bad. 

The skin on his wrists burned, and he hissed out a pained breath, letting himself fall limp in defeat. What, the fuck!

“Y’know, I’d really appreciate it if the asshole that took me would show their fuckin’ face!” He roared. Naturally, nobody magically appeared in the room. They were probably waiting for him to go mildly insane before they started their interrogation tactics, or whatever they wanted with him.

Cas, where the hell are you, man? He prayed, just hoping that he would hear him. 

He didn’t even know how the hell he gotten here. He’d been on a food run at a gas n’ sip, somewhere around the halfway point between Mississippi and South Dakota. That was the last thing he remembered. 

“C’mon, fucker!” He roared, yanking against the chains again, “I don’t got all goddamn day!” 

Dean sighed after another ten or so minutes of no answer, arms going slack again. Just his luck. Just his amazing, wonderful, totally not cursed luck. 

C’mon Cas. 

TWELVE HOURS AGO

“Get me some Tostitos,” said Jess, “Oh! And some of that cheese in a can stuff.” 

Sam wrinkled his nose in distaste next to her, “that’s disgusting, Jess.” 

“Who the hell doesn’t like canned cheese?” She defended, crossing her arms across her chest.

Dean chuckled, grabbing a wad of cash from his glove box, “I’ll get you two.” Sam threw him a slightly disgusted look, as if he had the audacity to feed his girlfriend processed can cheese. 

Cas stood sentinel by the Impala as it filled up, by Dean’s request. He’d be damned if anything happened to his car in the ten minutes it would take him to grab a few snacks and take a piss. 

Dean clapped him on the shoulder as he sauntered off to the gas station store. It was only slightly sketchy. The sun had set about an hour ago, and the night was cold. At least Dean thought it was cold. Temperatures were weird now. He could feel them, but he couldn’t. Dean felt the warm rays of the sun beating down on him as he stood outside on a sunny day, but he didn’t feel them. It was like he was more vaguely aware of it than anything. He was pretty confident that he could stick his hand directly into liquid nitrogen and it would come out just fine. (Though he was not going to test that theory any time soon).

Dean scoured the isles for Jess’s canned cheese, letting out a huge yawn in the process. He really needed some damn rest, preferable with Cas next to him. 

The cashier looked bored, her phone held in front of her face as she snapped a piece of gum between her teeth obnoxiously. One thing Dean found annoying about his angel-ness was his slightly heightened senses. His hearing was better than the average human’s, and her gum sounded like gunshots to him. His eye twitched. She shot Dean an unamused look as he continued to wander the store, as if she were waiting for him to steal something. Teenage bitches. 

Dean was vaguely aware of the feeling of nausea creeping up on him as he selected a bottle of water for Sam from the refrigerator section. He frowned, stumbling back in confusion. The hell? 

The cashier seemed to notice his struggle, and she glanced up from her phone, “you okay, dude?”

”Uh huh,” he mumbled, his vision swimming.

She sighed, pointing vaguely behind her, “bathroom’s there. Please don’t make a mess, because it’s coming out of my paycheck if you do.” 

“Uh huh,” he said again, dropping Sam’s water bottle in favor of hauling ass directly into the bathroom. 

He practically threw the door off of its hinges as he made a nose dive for the toilet, completely losing whatever was in his stomach, which wasn’t much. “The fuckin’ fuck?” He sputtered. He didn’t read about this in the angel handbook 101. Cas had some serious explaining to do if this was a sudden side effect of his new feathery appendages.  

Dean slumped against the wall, giving zero shits about how nasty the bathroom actually was. His vision had tripled now, and he was seriously wondering if his body was rejecting his recent developments. That probably wasn’t entirely impossible. 

Dean muttered nonsense to himself, barely noticing the looming figure that had just appeared in front of him. “Cas…?” He mumbled, squinting his eyes to see better. 

The figure knelt down, and nope! that definitely was not Cas. Dean cursed, trying, and failing, to get his legs to move. What the hell! This did not happen to him the last time around. Then again, neither did Gabriel showing up in a female vessel decorated by dick pajamas. 

“Wha—?” He slurred out. 

He was vaguely aware of a hand descending upon his forehead. No! That fucker. Gabriel had promised them! He ignored the niggling thought at the back of his mind that maybe this wasn’t Gabriel’s doing. Dean thought just about every bad word he knew at that moment, both in English, and in whatever language came to mind first. 

Cas! He desperately threw out, hoping that angel radio was still up and running in a half-lucid state. 

The world tilted dangerously as Dean saw the figure stand up again, everything going sideways as he hit the ground with a thump. Fuck.

PRESENT

Dean spent many fruitless hours trying, and failing, to free himself of the chains when the imposing double doors in front of him squealed open. 

Blood dripped down his raw wrists, creating a small puddle under him. Christ, that fucking hurt. Dean let out a scream of anger, letting his head thump back against the wall. He felt exposed. He was shirtless, bloody, and overall embarrassed because he was supposed to be a goddam angel. This wasn’t screaming heavenly warrior to him in the slightest.

He jumped when he heard footsteps outside the room (chamber?). Dean wasn’t sure where he was in the slightest. To him, it looked like a dungeon more than anything. No windows, a dim light emitting from a single lightbulb hanging in the center of the room, the painfully annoying sound of water droplets hitting the ground somewhere to his left. It was like any cliche kidnapping moving where the kid got locked in a cellar. 

He tensed when the doors started to creak open. Dean heard the sound of struggle before he saw it. A man was cursing, his flailing figure getting dragged into the room as he fought against his captors. 

Two men, two very familiar men, held onto a slightly obscured figure. Dean would recognize that freakishly bald head anywhere. He fought the urge to groan out loud; he doubted that it would make his situation any better. 

They continued to drag the man in Dean’s general direction before depositing him at his feet. The man grunted, limbs sprawling akimbo, as he practically ate shit. Dean winced in sympathy. “The fuck is this?” Snapped the man, pushing himself to his knees, “who the hell are you?” 

This time Dean did groan out loud. The angels never once failed to disappoint. “You have got to be kidding me,” hissed Dean. 

Don’t give anything away! Screamed his brain. 

The man looked up at Dean, horror stricken expression crossing over his face, “Dean?” He asked, bewildered. 

He thinned his lips, glowering at his captors with open hatred, “hey, dad. Long time no see?” 

John Winchester whirled around, fixing an angry gaze on the two angels, “what’s the meaning of this? You let my son go, right fuckin’ now!” 

“And just why would I do that?” Said Uriel. Uriel. Dean hated Uriel. He had the most punchable face known to mankind, maybe minus his companion’s. Zachariah should just go die in a fucking hole for all he cared. Dean would personally escort him there. He would pay for the funeral and everything, though he would prefer cremation just to extra make sure he never came back again.

Thump, thump, thump, thump. 

Dean realized that his heart was beating rapidly in his chest, pounding against his ribcage painfully. No, no nonono. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. 

The angels weren’t supposed to intervene for another few years. What changed?

Play dumb. Give nothing away.

“Who are you?” Hissed Dean, his wrists throbbing against the chains as he shifted to see them better. 

Uriel stepped under the light, his bald ass head reflecting against it like a goddam mirror, “I think the real question, Dean Winchester, is who are you?” 

He blinked, honestly confused. “Did you not just answer that question yourself?” 

Uriel’s expression didn’t waver. “You think you’re funny.”

”I think I’m hilarious.” 

“Dean,” hissed John, who was still laying by his feet, a warning. Den was long past showing these assholes any respect. He learned that it was useless anyway the first time around.

“We weren’t supposed to interact with you this early on,” said Zachariah, “but we’ve noticed some… inconsistencies.” 

“What’s he talkin’ ‘bout, boy?” Mumbled John. 

“I don’t know,” he said through gritted teeth. 

“You have something that belongs to us,” continued Uriel. 

Now Dean was actually confused, “what?” 

“Castiel.” Said Zachariah, “why is it, that our baby brother has suddenly upped and left our home without warning? That simply does not happen by coincidence, does it?” 

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about,” spat Dean. How could they have never thought about that? Cas was still an army general or some shit somewhere around this time. Of course, they would notice if he were gone. And of course, they would go looking for him. Dean mentally kicked himself. Maybe it wasn’t Gabriel, maybe it was, but he shouldn’t have been so careless, either way.

And then Dean saw stars. His head was snapping to the side, blood exploding inside of his mouth as his cheek split open against his teeth. “Hey!” Barked John.

“Do not lie to me, Winchester,” warned Uriel. 

Dean coughed, spitting a wad of blood onto the ground, “I don’t know who he is,” he said. No way he was ratting on Cas.

John stumbled to his feet next to Dean, holding a hand over his bruised ribs, “he doesn’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,”he said, “just let him go.” Dean still failed to see why John was here. 

Dean was prepared for when Urial hit him this time. He grunted as his eyes exploded in pain, but didn’t give him the satisfaction of showing a reaction. He’d played this song and dance for far too long with Alistair. They would not get what they wanted from him. 

“Pity,” said Zachariah. “We shall leave you to think wisely about how you answer our next questions for a few hours, Dean Winchester. And you will, if you value your father’s life.” Fuck. John was a bargaining chip. They’d nabbed him from wherever the fuck he’d been and used him to get to Dean.

The two angels stared at him menacingly before turning on their heels in a creepy kind of unison, exiting the chamber. Dean felt at least somewhat relieved that they hadn’t mentioned his… less than human nature. Obviously, they knew, because these chains seemed to dampen his powers (not that he really knew how to use them anyway) significantly. He was going to wring Gabriel’s scrawny neck next time he saw her. 

John was quick to check on Dean’s slightly beaten face once they had left, “Dean,” he said again, prodding at his eye. Dean winced, “what’re they talkin’ about, son?” 

“Dunno,” he croaked. Dean just wanted to know how they found him around the wards that he literally had tattooed onto his body. The wards that John was currently staring at in curiosity. “Long story,” he mumbled. “Not for today.”

Dean closed his eyes, slumping back against the wall the best he could with his fucking arms suspended above his head. “What’re you doin’ here?” He croaked out. He really needed a nap, and then a bottle of vodka. Maybe three. He was one bad night away from finding out just how much alcohol it took to get a celestial being drunk. This was that bad night, and more.

John sniffed, “I don’t know. One moment, I was goin’ to sleep, next thing I knew, I woke up here. I got no fuckin’ idea how they got past my wards,” he paused, “where’s here, anyway?” 

Dean just shook his head. He genuinely didn’t know. 

“Are you okay?” Asked John after a moment. 

Dean nodded. “Yeah. I’m good.” And royally fucked. How was he supposed to explain his way out of this one? Easy way? Kill them; get rid of the evidence. Dean could play them off as delusional demons. Any other way; yeah, he was fucked.

Cas, if you’ve got your ears on right now, don’t look for me. Dads here… I don’t know what to do. Urial and fucking Zachariah— you get the damn point. Anyway… just stall Sam and Jess until I can figure this out. I’ll be okay, man. 

“What do you think they are?” Asked John, pulling at the shackles on his wrists fruitlessly. 

“Demons, probably.” They might as well be, at this point. 

John nodded, agreeing with him, “you might be right.” 

“We gotta get out of here, dad,” he said, holding back a hiss of pain as the skin of his wrists rubbed against the metal. 

“How the fuck we gonna do that?” 

Dean just shook his head. He needed to do whatever he did next smart. Cas could by no circumstances come here, especially with Sam and Jess. They’re couldn’t find out, not now, not ever. God was probably shaking his head in disappointment right now. Speaking of God, where the hell was the guy when Dean needed him? 

Dean was either gonna die trying, or go down swinging, but he was getting the fuck out of here. He didn’t know how long they had until they came back, but he needed to be gone before then. A few hours; they said. That was doable. He’d had worse odds is worse situations, and he lived to tell the tell. (Sort of). 

“Dean,” started his dad, “I’m sor—“

”Don’t. It’s really not the time for this, John,” mumbled Dean. “Later. When we get out of this.” John’s jaw snapped shut with an audible click next to him.

Dean’s muscles were burning. His legs were shaking from having been upright for so long, and he just knew that his arms were going to hurt like a bitch when he was finally able to lower them below his head. 

Dean glanced up at the restraints again, an idea forming in his head. It was an absolutely terrible, rather painful, probably gonna get him killed idea, but it was better than nothing. 

CASTIEL (12 HOURS AGO) 

Cas! 

His head snapped up, hand falling away from the gas pump. That was Dean. 

He glanced over at Sam, who was engaged in conversation with Jess. Cas frowned. “I’m going to check on Dean,” he called over to them. 

Sam furrowed his brows, “he’s a big boy, Castiel. I’m sure that he can manage buying a few snacks by himself.” 

“He’s been gone for too long,” he mumbled, starting to head for the store. That sounded like a cry for help, and it didn’t sit right with him.

Everything looked fine to him at first, that was minus the absence of Dean, of course. He whipped his head towards the cashier, who was disengaged form her surrounds completely, “excuse me,” he said. She looked up from her phone, obviously very bored, “was a man just in here? A bit taller than me, green eyes, light brown hair?” 

She nodded, “yeah. He was gonna he sick or something. He should be in the bathroom. Do tell him to clean up after himself,” she said, waving her hand at Cas with a yawn. “I’m not touching that shit with a ten foot pole.”

Cas hurried over to the bathroom, fear rushing through him when he noticed that the door was slightly ajar. “Dean?” He called, hovering outside just in case. No answer. “Dean, are you alright?” 

There was no answer again. Cas cautiously pushed the door open the rest of the way, sucking in a sharp breath. Dean wasn’t there. No. Instead, his discarded angel blade lay on the ground, a few droplets of blood surrounding it. No! 

Castiel surveyed the scene, anger ripping through him, and he quickly pocketed the blade. He was going to smite whoever did this in the most brutal way possible. He barreled out of the store with a cry of protest from the cashier. “Hey! Is your friend okay?” She called after him. Cas ignored her.

“Sam!” He barked. 

Sam leapt away from Jess, who he had been leaning in to kiss, startled, “Jesus, dude. What?” 

“It’s Dean,” he said breathlessly, “he’s gone.”

Sam quirked an eyebrow at him, “what do you mean, gone?” 

Castiel shook his head, “I do not know. The woman at the register said that he went to the bathroom because he was feeling ill. He was not there.”

Sam seemed much more alert now, his hand falling from Jess’s shoulder, “what’re you talking about?” 

“There was blood,” he added on, choosing not to mention his blade. “I think he was taken.” 

“What the hell,” said Jess. “Are you sure?”

Castiel nodded, “why would I lie about something like that?” 

DEAN (PRESENT) 

“Fuck, this is gonna suck,” he moaned. 

“There’s gotta be something else,” said John, giving Dean a slightly condescending look. “You can’t do that.”

“The way I see it, this is it.”

”Dea—“

”Stop. You wanna get the fuck outta here or not?”

”Yes but—“

Dean was already moving before John could get another word in. In one quick motion, he jerked his right hand down as hard as he could, letting out a muffled cry of pain when he succeeded in what he was trying to do. His thumb snapped inwards, the skin ripping off the side of it. It felt like somebody had sheared off the side of his hand with sandpaper, and then smashed it with a sledgehammer. Dean bit the already busted inside of his cheek, the metallic tang of blood filling his mouth. His arm shook as he slipped his hand out of the cuffs, blood flowing down it freely. His muscles protested, spasming from being held in a position for so long. “Fuck,” he hissed. 

John watched with a horror stricken expression from beside him, his hand hovering in the air like he was attempting to comfort Dean, but he didn’t know how to. Dean would really prefer if he just didn’t touch him right now.

Dean sucked in a breath, preparing himself once again. He mentally counted to three, and then repeated the motion with his left hand. Same damn deal. Dean couldn’t help the cry of pain he let out this time around, feeling the bones snap in his hand. Jesus, and he couldn’t heal it either because who the fuck healed that fast? And then he found that he couldn’t heal it anyway. The hell were those chains made of? 

Dean immediately slumped to the ground, cradling his mutilated hands to his chest as he heaved in a few calming breaths of air. (He was also trying not to vomit). As soon as he was free from the chains, he felt better. It was like somebody had lifted a weight off of his shoulders. “Okay,” he said, “okay.” 

He felt John’s hand on his shoulder, and he shrugged away from it. “Dean,” he said, sounding hurt.

“Let’s go,” he replied, stumbling to his feet with a grunt. Pain flared through his hands, all the way down his arms. He winced. Dean wasn’t sure where to go from here. Could he just bust open the doors? Likely not. 

Cas. I’m okay. I’m on my way back to you. Just hold on. 

Dean’s legs damn near almost gave out as he braced himself against the wall. The doors were solid fucking mahogany. Of fucking course they were. “No!” he cried, “No, goddammit!” Dean angrily slammed his fist into the door, not giving two fucking shits about their current condition. A few chips of wood fell away from the door, as well as blood from his knuckles. 

“Dean, fucking stop!” Roared his father, “stop it right now. You’re gonna hurt yourself, boy.” 

A hysterical laugh bubbled past Dean’s lips. And then he just kept on laughing. He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the ground, his chest burning from the laughter, and his eyes stinging from the tears they started to shed. “Hurt myself? Fucking look at me!” 

God’s plan was bullshit. If it weren’t for Cas, he would just lay down on the ground right here and give up, but he’d already made his decision to go down swinging. “Azazel went after Jess,” Dean mumbled, his head lolling to the side tiredly. 

John went rigid, “where the fuck did you hear that name?” 

“Asshole told me himself when I caught him on his way to Stanford. If I hadn’t got there in time she would have died, you know.” 

John narrowed his eyes at Dean, “who’s Jess?” 

“Sammy’s girl,” he mumbled, blinking the yellow spots out of his eyes. “She’s okay now, though. Pretty badass.” He chuckled deliriously.

”Sam’s here?” 

“Not here. Bobby’s I think. At least he should be. I’ll kick his ass if he ain’t.” He would do more than kick his ass. 

Dean. Can you hear me? 

He stiffened, yeah, Cas. Loud and clear. 

Thank my father. Where are you? 

I don’t know but—

Dean heard footsteps. Fucking fuck. They should have been gone longer. They didn’t give him enough time. It was now or never. 

Dean? 

“Get ready,” he mumbled to John. 

He frowned, “for what?” 

Dean! 

“Can’t let these pussies get the best of us. I’ll die trying to get outta here.”

Dean took a step back from the door, crouching low. His injured hand twitched at his side, pain zinging through it at every movement. Time seemed to slow down after that. “No,” said John, “you won’t win, we ha—“

As soon as Dean heard the door rattle, he was already moving. Judging by the shocked look on Uriel’s ugly ass face, he wasn’t expecting Dean to be right in front of him at all. 

Dean launched himself at Urial with a feral roar, going directly for his face. They both flew back; ass over tea kettle, as Dean squeezed the fucker’s neck as hard as he could. Uriel gagged, throwing Dean off of him in one swift movement. Shit. Dean skidded across the ground, John making a dive for Uriel’s legs when he was distracted. He was unsuccessful. Uriel sent him hurtling across the ground, just narrowly missing Dean by centimeters.

The angel laughed amusedly, “my, my. When they said that you were something else, I thought they were lying. Look at you, pathetic.”

”Fuck you,” he spat feebly. Nothing better than that came to his mind.

John wheezed next to him, rolling over onto his stomach. Dean winced in sympathy, he knew what it was like to be angel flung as a human. It hurt like a mother. 

“I thought better of you,” Uriel continued, “especially now.” His wicked grin showed that he knew too much. He knew far too much, and Dean could not let him get that information out to anyone. 

“Where’s your fugly friend,” he said, sneering at Uriel, pissing him off just because he could.

“Oh, Zachariah? He was a bit held up. No matter, I do not need him to deal with two pathetic mud monkeys,” he grinned, “you will never be more than that. I haven’t the slightest idea who, or what decided to make these… alterations, but they thought wrong.” Dean’s face screwed up in anger. John just looked confused and in pain, probably only hearing about half of what Uriel was saying.

Thump, thump, thud, thud.

Dean could hear his heart pounding again, anger rocketing through him because how dare this asshole haunt him in not only his first life, but his second one too! 

Uriel had his blade in his hand, advancing on Dean slowly, as if savoring the moment. Hell, he probably was. He likely had imaginative scenarios of how he would kill Dean for pleasure.

Thud, thud.

Dean looked at his father, who looked absolutely terrified. Fuck this. Fuck all of it. 

Dean was moving again, by some miracle. Uriel jabbed at Dean with his blade at the same time he decided to throw everything he had into his next attack. Good news, Uriel had been aiming for Dean’s eye, and he missed. Bad news? The blade went directly through his shoulder. John and Dean let out twin screams, but adrenaline carried him through his attack. 

Dean kept on screaming, both in pain and in rage, as he jammed his broken thumbs directly into Uriel’s eye sockets. Blood spurted out around his fingers, Uriel’s scream getting thrown into the mix of yelling. Dean could barely feel the blade in his shoulder as he positively fought for his fucking life. 

He reached around his back, hand closing around the blade, and he pulled. With a sickening squelch, he yanked it the rest of the way through his shoulder, the pain finally erupting through his entire body. 

Somewhere behind him, John lost his lunch, his body hitting the ground with a thud as he blacked out. Fucking pussy, he thought. I’m the one standing here with two broken hands and an impaled shoulder! 

Uriel writhed under Dean, blindly throwing out his hands as he tried to heal his now useless eyes, and kill him at the same time. Dean had the upper hand, be realized. I’m a fucking angel now, he thought. Fight like one.

With a roar of anger, and a sudden burst of strength, he slammed Uriel’s own blade directly into his right eye, the sound of his skull crunching under it almost being enough to make Dean lose his lunch himself. Dean collapsed to the ground, tears and blood rolling down his face as light poured out of Uriel’s eyes and mouth. His body thudded to the ground next to Dean, blade still sticking out of his eye. A pair of charred wings seared into the ground next to him. Dean was going to leave it there. As a goddam warning. Do. Not. Fuck with him. He hoped that Zachariah was the first one to see it.

Dean was vaguely aware of Cas still screaming his name over angel radio, but it blended with the thousands of thoughts flying through his head at that very moment.

I’m okay. He said. I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay, Cas. Im comin’ to you. Stay at Bobby’s, Cas. 

Dean felt like dying. His entire left arm was numb now. It hung uselessly at his side as he nudged John with his foot. His father groaned, eyes fluttering. Fuck this, Dean thought for about the tenth time in ten minutes. 

His adrenaline rush was wearing off, and blood was seeping from his shoulder in concerning amounts. He grabbed his father’s arm, hauling him off of the ground with surprising ease, and slung it over his shoulder. (The non-impaled one.)

There was a hallway in front of him, a long, winding corridor, a small light shining at the end of it like a homing beacon. So Dean dragged him and his father towards it with the last of his energy, his vision tunneling. 

“Dean?” John mumbled, shifting against his side, and thank fuck, because Dean was about to hit the deck himself.

“Bobby’s,” he gasped. 

“Wha—?” Slurred John. 

“Go to Bobby’s, John,” he said, releasing his father’s arm as everything around him got swallowed by black. 

His last fleeting thought was that Cas would somehow be able to cover this up.

SAM

”We can’t just fucking sit here! It’s been almost THREE DAYS!” Sam roared, slamming his fist into Bobby’s kitchen table. The man glared at him, no doubt fantasizing about Sam’s possible death if he damaged the wood.

“Then where do you propose we start looking, Sam?” Retorted Castiel, “because, please, if you know where he is, I would very much like to know too!” 

Sam’s jaw clicked shut, and he paced back and forth angrily, running a hand through his hair. Dean had been fucking kidnapped, and they were just sitting here doing nothing. 

“We need to start somewhere,” said Sam, “he couldn’t have just vanished into thin fucking air.”

Castiel just looked sad and pissed off. He nervously wrung his hands together, something that Sam had never seen him do before. In fact, the poor guy was frazzled. He had been pacing back and forth, and muttering to himself for the past twenty minutes, sweat beading on his forehead. 

“Sam, I don’t think any of us know where to start,” said Bobby. “There was no damn evidence left behind other than a few drops of blood. The hell’re we s’posed to do with that?”

”I am so confused,” Jess squeaked. Sam reached down to grab her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. His heart sank when her eyes filled with tears, “what if we never find him?”

Sam had been kind of dumbfounded by the strange relationship Jess and his brother took up. Somehow, she seemed to look up to him in that older brother kind of way. They got along well, and Sam felt kind of like an ass for not making more of an effort with Castiel. But he was still pissed for whatever reason that Jess and his brother hit it off so quickly.

”We will find him,” said Castiel, determinedly. 

Sam really wanted to believe the guy. “Okay. We need to find something. Literally anything to go off of.”

”Is there somewhere he could have gone?” Asked Jess, “let’s just say that he managed to escape. Where would he go?” 

“Here,” said Cas. 

“Yeah, but where would he be if he didn’t escape.” Said Sam. 

Bobby grunted next to him, “no damn idea. I’ve already looked for cases in the area, and we got Jack shit. Nothing suspicious, nothing outta the ordinary. Boy’s just gone.”

Sam narrowed his eyes at Castiel when he noticed him staring at a spot on the wall. His face was screwed up, an expression of what looked like concern plastered across his face. Once again, he muttered something to himself before shooting to his feet. “Are you okay…?” Asked Sam. 

The last thing he expected was for Castiel to yell at him, “shut up!” He barked, “you don’t— I can’t,” he let out a yell of rage, his hands clenching his hair as he paced back and forth. Sam had never seen him lose his composure before. To see it happen… it was almost terrifying. The look of rage on his face would make almost anyone do a double take about crossing him. 

“Dude,” Sam breathed, “we all want to find him, but I think that you nee—“

”No! You don’t understand,” he snarled, “I promised that I wouldn’t let anything happen to him. I said I— I said—,” he ripped his hands out of his hair, sending his fist straight through Bobby’s wall. 

Sam and Jess jumped up in unison as the sound of cracking plaster echoed through the room. “Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me!” Snapped Bobby, “you’re gonna be fixin’ that with your own damn money!” 

Sam locked eyes with Jess, the both of them shooting Castiel a cautious glance. The guy looked unhinged. His eyes were wild, and his face was red with anger, practically frothing at the mouth at this point. 

“Castiel…,” said Jess, “maybe… maybe you should sit down, and then get your hand looked at, I’m sure that hurt.”

”I’m fine,” he snapped. Sam did not think so. He was honestly confused by his behavior. Sure, Sam was mad, pissed, even, but you didn’t see him punching holes through walls. 

Something clattered in Bobby’s kitchen then, followed by a muffled curse. At first he thought it was a delayed reaction to the vibrations that Castiel’s punch sent through the house, but it soon became apart that it wasn’t.

At once, everyone leapt to their feet. Sam was just about ready to bust in the skull of whatever the fuck had the audacity to break in right now. He didn’t feel like dealing with this bullshit today.

Bobby drew a shotgun from behind his sofa cushion, producing an ammo box from inside the cushion. Sam raised a curious brow at him, but nevertheless, slid his own side piece out from where it was concealed in his belt. 

Bobby held a finger to his lips, pointing at the kitchen. He then gestured for Sam to go one way, and he the other. “Stay here,” he whispered to Jess, handing her his Swiss Army knife. She clutched it like a lifeline, her wide eyes staring at him in fear.

Sam crept around the living room, keeping low, just in case the intruder had a weapon, and he needed to hit the deck. Sam could see the shadow, of presumably the man, standing by the refrigerator. He was stalk still, probably listening for them. 

Sam took a composing breath, calming his heart rate before he confronted the intruder. 

Sam slid around the corner, clicking the safety off of his gun, “don’t fucking move,” he said slowly. “Out, with your hands where I can see them. Slow.” 

Sam watched the figure unfold from himself, the hands on the shadow raising above his head in surrender. Something fell from his hand, and onto the ground. Sam blinked in confusion when he realized that it was a half eaten apple. Sam kept his finger on the trigger as he whipped his gun around the corner, coming face to face with… his fucking father. 

“Dad?” He said in disbelief. The two of them stared at each other in blatant shock. 

He looked like shit. His hair was damp with sweat, plastered against his forehead, and he had a black eye. He was hunched over on himself, hand over his side, likely an injured rib or two, “Sammy,” he wheezed, a relieved grin spreading across his face. “Need your help.” Help? Since when did he need Sam’s help? He’s been MIA for months, according to Dean.

“John?” Said Bobby from behind him, his shotgun clattering to the ground in shock. “The fuck are you doin’ here?”

“Bobby,” he said, “I—“ John was cut off when a blurred figure went flying past Sam, slamming his father up against the wall in rage. A glass fell from the open cabinet, shattering against the ground. Sam heard Jess gasp from somewhere behind him.

“Where the fuck is he,” snarled Castiel, his arm pressed up against John’s windpipe.

“Woah, hey!” Cried Sam, grabbing onto his brother’s psycho friend’s shoulder. “Leave him alone!” 

“Where’s Dean!” He snapped, Sam’s presence not even phasing him.

John’s eyes were wide as saucers as he stared up at Cas, “who the fuck are you?” He managed to wheeze out. “Sam?” 

“Where. Is. Dean.” 

“Castiel!” Snapped Sam, “let him the hell go. Now!”

Slowly, very slowly, he turned to look at Sam, backing away from his father. John dropped to the ground with a gasp of air, glaring up at Castiel with distaste. “thank you,” breathed out Sam, “I’m sorry about him. He’s just… Dean’s missing,” Sam sighed, “we’re all stressed.” 

“Dean,” croaked out John, his eyes lighting up, “he—,” he let out a rattling cough, “car outside.” 

Sam was bursting through Bobby’s backdoor, and outside, before he could even hear John finish that sentence. 

Among all of the junk cars in Bobby’s yard, a stolen pickup truck was parked sideways in Bobby’s driveway. Sam didn’t know how the hell he managed to miss the sound of it pulling up, because it was no doubt a loud ass vehicle. He was probably too busy trying to get Castiel not to break something. The backdoor to the vehicle was ajar, a limp leg hanging out of the truck. “Shit,” hissed Sam. He could hear voices behind him.

Sam knew it was Dean before he even saw his face, (he always wore the same shitty steel-toed boots, and refused to buy a new pair until the souls of them were literally falling off).

“No,” he muttered, advancing on his brother, tossing his gun to the side “please, god, no.” The hell was John doing eating an apple while Dean was passed out in the back of a stolen car?

He looked fucking dead. The back of the truck looked like a murder scene, with blood smeared all over the leather of the seats, and the window, where Dean’s head rested limply. His face was pale and clammy, chest barely rising and falling with each shuddering breath he took. Sam felt nausea wash over him, just barely managing to keep himself from throwing up. What would he even do? They’d gotten hurt over hunts as kids, the occasional broken arm, or black eye, but it’s never been this bad. ”I— we need a hospital…” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else, “why did you bring him here?”

“Dean!” Gasped Castiel from behind him. John and Bobby were hot on his heels, followed by Jess. “What happened!” He demanded, whirling around to look at John. Sam would very much like to know the same thing.

Sam vaguely heard them talking as he assessed his brother’s condition, “I don’t fucking know! I got fucking kidnapped, and they had Dean there too. He asked me to bring him here before he passed out. I’m sorry, I still don’t know who you are.” 

Sam returned his focus to his brother. Dean’s left shoulder was actively bleeding, and Sam had no doubt there was a gnarly wound under all the blood. He was shirtless. His face was beaten; his lip split, and had a black eye. His hands were by far the worst. Sam gagged, averting his gaze. His thumbs were both bent at awkward angles, the skin literally ripped off of his hands. His wrists were covered in black and blue bruises, and a ring of raw and bloody skin. Sam had do doubt that Dean had broken his own hands to escape some kind of restraints. He felt tears brim his eyes; the crazy fucker. How would that idea have even come to his mind?

Castiel and John were still arguing behind him, while Bobby and Jess tried to calm them down. “Dean?” Sam called quietly. His brother showed no signs of moving, “c’mon man,” muttered Sam, “don’t do this to me now.” He rested his hand on his leg, shaking it lightly. 

Slowly, Dean cracked open a single, bloodshot eye. “That’s it,” said Sam, “can you hear me, man?” 

Dean slowly blinked, making a gurgling noise at the back of his throat; and then he launched himself out of the back of truck with shocking speed, tackling Sam to the ground with a scream of anger. “Dean!” He yelled in shock, because what the hell? “It’s me. It’s Sam!” 

His brother wasn’t having any of it, “fucker!” Dean snarled, “couldn’t fucking stay dead!” 

Sam gagged when Dean’s hands came up around his throat, his vision immediately tunneling because, fuck, his grip was tight. “Dean,” he gasped out desperately, his legs scuffing against the ground to try and gain some traction. He was going to pass out! 

And just like that, he could breathe. Dean was dragged back from Sam, kicking and screaming, as Castiel wrapped his arms around him, pinning his arms to his sides. “Let me go! Let me fucking go!” Dean screamed, his voice sounding raw. Sam laid on his back for a minute to regain his composure, eyes shut tight.

Castiel stumbled back, his back hitting the truck as he sunk down to the ground, bringing Dean with him. “Dean, listen to me,” Castiel said lowly, “you’re safe. You’re at Bobby’s with me, Sam, and Jess. You can open your eyes.” Sam heaved in a breath of air greedily, coughing as he rolled over. Jess quickly helped him to his feet, grasping his arm tightly as she watched the scene unfold with teary eyes.

His brother was still fighting against Castiel’s grip, but Sam had to credit the guy for managing to hold onto him. He pulled Jess close to his side. “Hey,” cried John, “the hell are you doin’? Let him go!” 

He advanced on them, fists balled at his sides, and Sam grabbed John’s arm, “wait,” he said, nodding his head at them. 

“Open your eyes, Dean,” said Castiel again, his arms tightening around him as he tried to break away again. He made a point of ignoring John. By some goddam miracle, Dean’s legs stopped flailing, but he was still heaving for air as he came down from whatever high he was on. He and Castiel were both coated in blood now, and Sam’s stomach turned nauseatingly at the sight. 

“Cas?” His brother croaked out, sounded defeated, “that you?” 

His friend grinned, “yes. You are safe now, Dean. We have you.” 

“You sure? They lie, Y’know.” Sam curiosity turned his head at that statement, looking to his dad for answers because apparently, he and Dean had been kidnapped together. Sam didn’t like the odds of that happening. It was almost too coincidental. 

“It’s me,” Castiel promised, finally loosening his grip around Dean’s arms.

Dean broke down in tears. Sam reeled back in shock, because never in his life had he seen Dean cry in front of him since they were little kids. Dean seemed to slump back in defeat, sagging against Castiel’s chest as the adrenaline left his body all at once. Everyone was silent around them, Jess’s fingers still digging into his arm. “ ‘M tired, Cas,” slurred Dean, “hurts.” 

“I know, but you have to get up for me, okay? We need to get you inside so we can clean you up. You’re bleeding all over me.” 

“I killed him,” said Dean, head dropping to the side as Castiel lifted Dean to his feet with some effort, wrapping his arm around his waist for support. Sam hurried over to help him, grabbing Dean’s other side.  “I killed him,” he mumbled again. “ ‘M sorry, Cas.”

“Who, Dean?” Asked Sam. 

“He deserved it,” he said, a single tear falling from his eye and onto the ground. Sam watched it mix with the dirt there, “it hurts, Cas.” He choked up on the last word. 

“I got it from here, Sam,” said Castiel, making eye contact with him. He shrugged away from Sam, slowly leading Dean to Bobby’s house, practically dragging him across the ground as his feet struggled to keep up with him. 

“You better explain. Right, fucking, now,” Sam said to John, as soon as they had walked inside and out of earshot. 

“I told you all I fuckin’ could. These two demons kidnapped us, real pretentious fuckers. Turns out we were in Kansas somewhere. Had Dean chained up, he—,” John grimaced, “he broke his thumbs. To get outta them.” Sam figured that much. 

“And?” Said Bobby, “what else?” 

John shook his head, “one of ‘em came back. Tall, ugly, bald fellow. Dean… I couldn’t even recognize him,” John shook his head in disbelief, looking like he was going to fall over himself. “He just went for him, no hesitation at all. Didn’t even listen to me when I told him to stop. He blinded him first,” John continued. He paused at the last part. 

“He, what?” Said Jess, her fingers getting impossible tighter around Sam’s arm. He winced, but didn’t tell her to let go.

“Blinded him. Jammed his fingers into the fucker’s eye sockets, ripped ‘em right outta his head. And— and then,” John actually gagged, “he’d been aimin’ to stab Dean at the same time. Blade went right through his shoulder, out the other side.” 

Sam went rigid. “And he’s alive?” He said. 

“I bit it after Dean reached ‘round his back and pulled the blade out through the other side. Said he stabbed him through the eye with it. Killed the demon after, exorcised him.” 

“Oh my god…” said Jess. 

Sam didn’t know whether he should be impressed or horrified. What Dean did; Sam didn’t think he could even fathom doing. That kind of fight took wanting to live to see another day to a whole new level. It was sheer adrenaline and willpower that carried him through.

”What did they want with you?” Asked Sam. “I mean, demons don’t usually kidnap people without reason.” 

“I dunno. They kept askin’ Dean ‘bout this guy, Cassiel. Casteel? Dean said he didn’t know him, but they kept on insisting he did.” 

Sam saw red in that moment. Dean had almost died, just so he could protect his dickish friend? He kept his cool, not yet wanting to cause a scene. He could rip Castiel’s head off later. 

“Now, it’s my turn,” said John. “Dean told me that your girl here was on Azazel’s hit list. How the hell did you manage to get outta dodge?” 

Sam frowned, “whose Azazel?” 

“The demon…?” Said John, “yellow eyes.” 

“The fucker has a name?” Said Jess, “I think Self Righteous Dick suits him much better.” Sam had to agree with her on that one. 

John thinned his lips, “apparently, this is a conversation for later.” 

“Yeah,” said Sam, “I’m gonna go check on Dean.” Azazel. Azazel. Why did that sound so familiar? 

Jess called after him as he stormed into Bobby’s house. He only paused when he saw the scene in the living room. Dean was sitting on the edge of the couch, Catsiel gently cleaning off his brutalized shoulder with a washcloth. Sam’s stomach dropped at the sight of the wound. Dean sagged forward, looking like he was about to pass out. “They were lookin’ for you,” said Dean. A smile passed over his face, “they didn’t get shit from me.” 

“I’m sorry, Dean,” replied Castiel earnestly. He looked nothing but sincere, “I should have been more careful.” Careful? Just what did this guy have Dean mixed up in? Sam watched carefully as Castiel’s fingers traced around the wound, a small frown crossing over his face, “This should have killed you,” he mumbled. 

“Glad to know it,” said Dean, rolling his eyes. 

They both noticed Sam standing there then, and Dean threw him a small smile, his expression dropping when he spied the fingerprint shaped bruises already forming around Sam’s neck, “fuck,” he said, “Sam, I—“

”It’s okay, man,” he said dismissively, “How are you feeling?”

”Like ground beef.” 

“Yeah, well. You look like it too.” They both snorted at that.

Sam eyed Castiel as he stepped around Dean to gaze at his hands. His stomach turned at the sight. “We have to set those,” he said. 

Dean nodded, “my left thumb’s only dislocated. I just need somebody to snap it back in.” 

“You need stitches,” announced Castiel. “I am taking you to the hospital.” 

“What? No! How am I gonna explain this to them?”

”I’ll deal with it, but this is far past my medical expertise, and I refuse to stitch up your shoulder with dental floss.” 

“As much as I hate to say it, I agree with him,” said Sam. 

Dean looked far too tired to argue.

______________________________________

To say the hospital staff had been shocked was an understatement. 

Dean took it like a champ, walking by himself into the hospital, head held high, all the while looking like a failed homicide attempt and leaving a trail of blood behind him. Castiel hovered close to his side, and Sam’s eye twitched at that. He needed to take a step away.

The doctor that tended to them was a kind, older woman called Dr. Cooney. She had greying hair pulled up into a smart bun, and worry lines around her eyes.

Jess had decided to stay back with Bobby and John, to fill his father in on the events that brought her here, and also to get a little bit more out of him. 

They'd been banished to a private room, Dean sitting stiffly on the hospital bed, looking like he was trying not to pass out. Castiel sat sentinel in the chair to the right of his bed, while Sam sat in the one on the left. The two of them refused to look at each other. “You two’re killin’ me,” muttered Dean.

Dr. Cooney walked in, eyes scanning over her clipboard, “hello, I am Dr. Cooney, and I’ll be tending to you tod—“ her mouth snapped shut when she spotted Dean sitting patiently on the hospital bed. “Oh, dear god,” she said. 

“I think I need stitches,” said Dean casually, “and, uh,” he held up his mutilated hands, “I need this fixed too.”

Sam resisted the urge to facepalm. Only his fucking brother. 

Dr. Cooney set down her clipboard, bustling over to Dean with a purpose. “Dear boy, what happened to you?” 

“I fell…?”

”Dean,” snapped Castiel. 

“You fell,” said Dr. Cooney, “because it looks to me like you’ve been impaled, and then restrained,” she lightly tapped his wrist, “I’ve seen enough people in my lifetime to know what this is. 

“I was mugged.” She narrowed her eyes at him, “…after being kidnapped.” Sam had no idea how Dean was even upright right now, let alone making up somewhat convincing lies. 

“We need to file a police report,” she said. “They could have killed you if that wound on your shoulder was a few centimeters lower.” 

Dean shook his head, “I didn’t see them. I was blindfolded. Please just stitch me up, doc.”

She sucked in a breath before giving a curt nod, “how much pain, on a scale from one to ten, are you feeling right now.” 

“Twelve?” Sam shot him a disbelieving look.  

She signed with another head shake. “I’ll get the morphine.” Sam might need some himself. 

Dr. Cooney returned with her equipment, setting a small metal tray down across from Dean. He eyed the contents like they might bite him. “I’ll need to set your thumbs first,” she said, snapping on a pair of gloves, and gesturing for Dean to give her his hand. 

Sam winced when she turned his hand over in her own. “On three,” she said, grabbing his thumb, “one, two,” Dean flinched when she jerked his thumb to the side, a painful pop sounding in Sam’s ears. He saw Castiel flinch behind Dr. Cooney.

“You must have the highest pain tolerance I’ve ever seen,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. “Give me your other hand, kiddo.”

”This one’s broken,” said Dean, almost deliriously, holding it up in front of his eyes. 

“Yes, dear, I can see that.” 

______________________________________

Dean sat freshly bandaged in a new hospital room. They wanted to keep him overnight, having Sam fill out a shitload of paperwork, all of which he used false information for. The cops were the least of his worries right now. His one hand had a cast over the thumb, and wrapping around his palm, his wrist covered by soft bandages. The other one had a brace, since it thankfully wasn’t broken. “How the fuck am I gonna jerk off like this?” Said Dean, holding his hands in front of his face. “How the fuck am I gonna eat food like this.” 

“I think you will live,” said Castiel, patting Dean’s arm. 

Deans shoulder looked like how a football player’s did when they wore pads under their jersey. It was bulky, and inconvenient. 

“Hey, Cas?” Said Dean. Sam thinned his lips. 

“Yes, Dean?” 

“I’m gon—“ and then he keeled over without any other explanation, eyes rolling back into his head as he slumped to the side. Castiel was quick to catch him, gently laying Dean back on the bed that he was already curled up in. 

“Shit,” said Sam, scrambling to his feet, “should I get a doctor?” 

“No. He is fine, merely exhausted. We should let him rest.” 

“Right,” said Sam, “then now that it’s just the two of us, why were the guys that kidnapped Dean and dad looking for you?” 

Sam smirked when Castiel went rigid, his shoulders tensing up. “What do you mean?” 

“Dad said that they asked him where you were. You know that he almost died, because he didn’t give you up?” 

“This does not concern you, Sam. We made the wrong people angry on a hunt a while back. They took particular interest in getting revenge on me.” 

“The wrong people, meaning demons? Because yeah, not smart of your end. Why did Dean take the fall for it, then?” 

“Are you trying to make me feel bad about what happened, Sam? Because you do not need to. I feel terrible! Dean is the closest thing I have to family. So, yes. I feel guilty. Is that what you want to hear?” 

Sam deflated a bit. “Look, no. I’m just having a hard time understanding what happened. It can’t be a coincidence that Dean and dad were there together.” 

“Perhaps not. Logically, they likely assumed that Dean would not talk on his own. They needed a bargaining chip, something, or someone, to use as leverage.” 

“And that was dad,” supplied Sam. 

“Correct.” 

Dean mumbled something incoherent to himself, rolling over on the bed. They both paused to look at him. 

“I know you don’t trust me, Sam. That’s fine, I never asked you to. But for Dean’s sake, the two of us need to at least tolerate each other.”

”For Dean’s sake,” he snorted, “you sure you’re not talking about yourself right now?”

“I could care less if you liked or disliked me. Not many people do like me, but that is because they do not understand me. What happened to Dean was terrible, but it was not my fault. I don’t know what I need to do to convince you of that.” 

Sam didn’t answer. He just fixed his gaze on his brother, watching him drool all over his pillow as he rested somewhat peacefully. 

DEAN

Dean’s mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. His throat felt like it was coated in sandpaper as he tried to swallow, and his hands felt like bricks at his sides. The kicker? He still couldn’t heal them, and neither could Cas.

So once again, loud and clear: fuck you, God. XOXO, Dean.  

Dean woke up on a slightly uncomfortable bed, his entire body throbbing as a bright light almost blinded him. At first, Dean wondered if he’d finally just given up and chased after the light, but Sam’s giant ass moose face hovering over him was enough to convince him otherwise.  

“I can see every hair in your nose, Sammy,” he mumbled.

Sam took a step back after that, and Dean immediately looked around him for Cas. For some reason, he felt a slight pang of panic when he noticed that he wasn’t there like he had been when he fell asleep, “where’s Cas?” He asked, his groggy brain finally waking up.

Sam reeled back like he’d been slapped, “getting you something to drink.” He nodded in acceptance. 

The next person to walk into the room was the doctor lady, Cooney, or something. She smiled at Dean sweetly, “how’re you feeling, Mr. Smith?” Ah, right; fake ID. 

“Like I’ve been steamrolled, and then thrown into a deep fryer.” 

“So, normal,” she said with a smirk.

“If that’s what you wanna call it.” 

She checked his vitals for a few minutes, jotting something down onto that damned clipboard of hers before Cas reentered the room. Dean felt himself relax once he knew that he was there. They both shared a hidden smile, Sam looking between them with a poorly concealed bitch face.

“Alright, so if I can just look at your eye now—,” said Dr. Cooney. 

Dean realized that he hadn’t been paying attention to what she had been saying, so when he saw her hand coming directly for his face (a little faster than necessary), he found himself flinching away from her with a yelp, throwing his hands up to protect himself instinctively. Dr. Cooney retracted her hand immediately, “I’m sorry,” she said, “I should have been more considerate of th—“

”It’s fine,” he said curtly. 

“Dean,” said Sam, “it’s okay t—“

”I said I’m fine.” 

Dr. Cooney left soon after that, seeming to realize that he needed some space. Cas set down a bottle of orange Powerade next to him, his lips pressed into a thin line. “What’s this?” Dean asked. 

“Drink it, so help me, lord,” threatened Cas. 

“Christ, okay,” mumbled Dean, moving to pick up the bottle. He froze, looking down at his hands again. “Open it for me?” He batted his lashes up at Cas. “Pretty please?” 

“You’re insufferable,” muttered Cas, though there was no real malice behind those words. He cracked open the bottle before carefully handing it over to Dean. He held it awkwardly between the palms of both of his hands, his arms shaking as he brought the bottle or his mouth. Fucking Uriel. Dean found a nasty little part of him wishing that he’d killed him more brutally (though he genuinely wasn’t sure if he could have), but he shoved that thought down as quickly as it sprung up.

”I’m going to piss”, announced Sam, leaving the room quickly after his rather abrasive statement. Cas just rolled his eyes. 

“You know, sometimes I wonder how we used to get along so well,” said Cas, sitting down on the corner of Dean’s bed by his feet. 

“Sam was much different then than he is now,” said Dean, “people change. You just gotta give it some time, Cas.” 

Cas nodded, reaching down to take one of Dean’s hands between his own, turning it over gently, “I’m sorry, Dean,” he said for about the fifth time. 

“This isn’t your fault, dude. There’s nothing to be sorry for.” 

“I know but— I… I can’t heal you.” 

“I can’t heal it either, it’s okay. It’s probably for the best, anyway, Y’know. I don’t think Sammy would take it too well if I suddenly looked all spiffed up and all that. You can give me angel lessons later. For now, I really just need a damn nap.” 

“Yes, of course. I can go… if you want,” said Cas, averting his gaze from Dean. 

“Stay,” Dean blurted out. His face turned red. “Please.” 

Cas smiled at him, dropping his hand back into the bed. “We can talk about what happened later. I suspect that Uriel will not be the last of my siblings to come looking for me now that they know I have left them.” 

Dean could already feel his eyes drooping closed, “yeah. Sounds good, Cas.” 

He felt Cas press a quick kiss to his forehand as he drifted back out of consciousness. He fell asleep with a smile on his face. 

DEAN

”Tell me a story, Cas,” he mumbled tiredly, shifting so he could at least try to get somewhat comfortable on the shitty hospital bed. He swore they must have stuffed the mattress with bricks. He sincerely felt bad for those in a worse condition than him, these beds were going to send them closer to the light than anything else.

He could see Cas raise and eyebrow from where he sat in the chair next to him, a book written in Czech covering his lap. Where the hell gad he even gotten that, “like what, Dean?”

”Dunno. Something angel-y? Tell me somethin’ I don’t know ‘bout angels.” Dean scowled at his flat pillow. It might as well have been a napkin. He considered punching it for a minute, but he would prefer that his already busted hands healed quickly. 

“Very well,” said Cas, dog-earring his book before closing it. Dean’s face screwed up in confusion when he caught a glimpse of the cover. 

“Why the fuck’re ya readin’ a book about heart transplants in Czech?” Dean stifled a yawn.

Cas’ face flushed, “it was very interesting.” Dean huffed out a small laugh at that. 

Sam had left about an hour ago with some convincing from Dean. Sam needed rest too, and Jess needed him right now more than Dean did. He also didn’t want to leave her alone in a house with his father, Dean knew how he could be. He would likely be gone again in a few days or so, anyway, back on the hunt for Azazel. 

Maybe not, said his brain. John might want to know what Dean knows about Azazel before he leaves. 

“Every angel has a patron animal,” said Cas, interrupting his thought process.  

Dean’s eyes snapped open in interest, “what do you mean?” 

“Every seraph has an animal sacred to them. Often, they can achieve the form of that animal if they please.” 

“The hell? I ain’t ever seen you as an animal,” said Dean. 

Cas smiled, “I prefer to remain in a humanoid form. I find taking the form of an animal restricting in a way.” 

“Well, you know I want to hear more about this. What animal is.. er, yours?” Did it belong to him or something?

Cas cocked his head to the side, as if thinking about it, “for me, a raven, or crow. An angel’s personality often matches that of the animal that represents them. For example, Gabriel’s is a fox. Uriel’s is a weasel.” That made absolute sense to Dean. Though Uriel seemed a bit more like a snake to him. No matter, the asshole was dead now. That also explained the birdlike manner in which Cas always tilted his head. 

Dea snorted out a laugh at that, wincing as pain flared through his shoulder at the motion. “You gotta show me. I ain’t believin’ shit without proof.”

“Dean, I cannot transform into a raven in the middle of a hospital.” 

“That’s not what I meant,” he huffed, “Later, when we’re outta here.” 

Dean opened his mouth to say something else, closing it soon after. A frown crossed over his face. “Are you alright?” Asked Cas.

”Yeah. Just— does that mean that— that I would have a patron animal or whatever you called it before?” 

Cas patiently nodded, “yes. Every seraph does.” Dean hadn’t even discovered his wings yet. How the hell was he supposed to turn into a dog or some shit?  

“What is it?” 

“I do not know. Often, the first time you transform, it will then be decided.” 

“Then what do you think it’ll be?” Dean was dying to know the science behind this. Sam would have an absolute field day. 

Castiel hummed, lifting himself out of the chair to sit on the edge of Dean’s bed. It let out a creak of protest. Dean didn’t miss the way his eyes traveled down to his bulky hands, “something strong,” he said, his fingers twitching, “fierce. You are a survivor, Dean. Perhaps… a tiger? A lion? Maybe a bear.”

”A lion would be pretty badass,” he mused.

Cas’ eyes met Dean’s, a deep frown crossing over his face. “What?” He asked. 

“I wonder…,” mumbled Cas. 

“What?” Asked Dean again, shifting self consciously under his gaze. Cas had a really intense gaze when he wanted it to be. It was like being dissected under a microscope.

“When Uriel and Zachariah captured you, did they mention anything about your developments, so to say?”

Dean frowned this time, “not… directly? I mean, they knew something was off, but they never exactly said what they thought it was.” 

Cas nodded, “they couldn’t see around your soul. It must have thrown them off.”

”My— soul?” 

“Yes. I find it very curious that my father left you with one. It could have been a careless mistake on his end, though.” Dean sincerely hoped that God did not make a careless mistake when throwing him back in time all these years. 

Dean’s face screwed up in confusion, “do you not have one?” 

Cas shook his head, “angels do not have souls. We have our grace, which you already know. In a way, it is a soul, just more celestial, if you will. But you have your grace, and your soul. Very curious,” he mumbled. 

“Will that cause problems or something?” 

“I am thinking it may have something to do with why you have not yet been able to heal yourself, or why I have not been able to heal you.” 

“So, what? My body’s rejecting my soul or some shit? What does that mean?” Dean placed a cautious hand over his chest as if that would actually help anything.

“I am unsure,” said Cas, his hand gently coming up to wrap around Dean’s. He carefully rubbed his thumb over the bulky cast there. “I wish that I were able to heal you, though. This looks painful.” 

“Just a little,” Dean snorted, awkwardly attempting to squeeze Cas’ hand back before pulling his own away.

Dean scooted over on the ridiculously small bed, until his ass was just about hanging over the side of it. He patted the spot next to him, “c’mere,” he said, yawning hugely. 

“Dean, I couldn’t possibly—“

”Cas,” he said, “get your feathery ass into this bed with me, so help me God. I did not just get impaled to have you reject me so harshly.” 

“I am not rejecting you!” 

“Then get the fuck over here.” 

Cas rolled his eyes, slowly climbing in beside Dean, as if moving quickly would somehow cause him more harm. They probably looked ridiculous; two grown men squeezed into a bed that could barely hold one of them. Cas gently pulled Dean closer to him, winding his arms around his waist, the stupid paper hospital gown rumpling around his grasp. Dean sighed contentedly when Cas propped his chin up on top of his head. “What are we going to do about Sam?” Mumbled Cas, “and your father? They do not like me very much.” 

Dean let out a low groan, “we keep on makin’ up believable lies. For now, we keep your asshole family away from you, and we can deal with my asshole family tomorrow. Kay?” 

“Okay,” said Cas. 

Dean sighed, closing his eyes. His hands throbbed as he rested them on the bed in front of him, and Cas was gentle as he held him. He could almost ignore how cramped the small bed space was.

“Dean?” Said Cas, his low voice vibrating against his back.

“Mmm?” He muttered, just about a few seconds away from dozing off. 

“Sam just texted you. Jess is going to pick us up tomorrow morning.” 

“M’kay.” 

The last thing he felt before he succumbed to sleep was Cas pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head, his hand splaying across his chest, just over his heart. 

“Hello, Dean.”

He frowned. That definitely wasn’t Cas speaking. Dean gasped when the air rushed out of his lungs, his back slamming into something hard as a chair skidded across the ground under him.

”The fuck?” He wheezed out. 

“I suspect that things are not going as smoothly as you hoped.”

The room spun a complete three sixty, suddenly finding that he was facing Chuck. His face was clean shaven, and he wore a cream colored suit, a single red rose pinned to the lapel of it. He had his hands folded in his lap. They sat in a circular library, the two of them facing each other in chairs like it was some sort of divine therapy session.

“Yeah, well. You didn’t exactly send me with an instruction manual, did you?” 

Chuck smiled, though it looked a little forced, “I have faith in you.” 

Dean snorted, “bold of you to say that. I haven’t   exactly succeeded in anything yet but killing Uriel and getting skewered in the process.” 

“I must thank you for that… Uriel— he was becoming a nuisance.” 

“So you left me to do your dirty work, then?” 

God didn’t answer. 

“Sammy’s gonna find out,” he said as Chuck just waited for him to say something, “too much slipped up. They’re all confused, and he’s too damn smart for his own good.” 

“I can assure you, Dean, that Sam will never come to the conclusion that you and Castiel have been sent from five years in the future. He may be suspicious, but for much different reasons. He has been led to believe that Castiel has you mixed up in something dire.”

”Maybe he won’t come to that conclusion, but I’m gonna need a better lie than ‘we pissed off the wrong people.’ Dad was there with me, he won’t buy that shit for one second.”

“I am confident in your abilities to concoct a believable lie.” 

Dean threw his hands up in the air, “fuckin’ unbelievable.” 

“I would watch your language around me, Dean. I am still the divine creator of the universe.” 

“Then why can’t you solve your own damn problems?”

Chuck’s smile turned dangerous, “it is not my place. I have expressed my faith in you, and Castiel. I expect nothing less than perfection.” 

Dean held up his jailed hands, “you call this perfection, Chuck? Huh? Also, speaking of perfection, Cas seems to think that you made a mistake. I’ve still got a soul, Y’know.” 

Chuck’s face remained impassive. ”I must go, Dean. You are doing well.”

”Don’t you fucki—“

Then Dean felt like he was falling. He screamed into the blackness surrounding him in anger. Could he not get a single fucking straight answer from anyone?

JESS

”Room 312,“ said the receptionist, pointing down the hall, to the right.

“Thank you,” said Jess, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. 

It was around eight in the morning, a dismal, rainy day out. Last night had been less than pleasant, in fact, the whole day had been a certain kind of living hell. 

Jess never, in her life, wanted to see something like what happened yesterday again. For her to believe that Dean was missing, only for Sam’s estranged father to show up with him half dead in the back of a stolen truck, after they had both been kidnapped; let’s just say that she was more than traumatized. She was seriously reconsidering her (possible) career in nursing after that. A small part of her knew that she would probably never be able to go back to Stanford anyway.

The fear she’d felt in that moment when Dean tackled Sam to the ground was almost like that night when the demon came after her. She hadn’t been sure if she should yell at Dean to stop or not, or hit him with a tire iron. He obviously had not been in any kind of lucid state to understand her anyway. 

She approached the room he was staying in with an unpleasant turning in her gut. She saw Sam’s brother in a new light now. Her first impression of him; he was a genuinely nice guy. He was funny, good sense of humor, a little rough around the edges. But he was dangerous. He’d fought a battle to the literal death against a demon, apparently, with little regard for his own safety, and won.

The door was slightly cracked open to his room, and Jess hesitantly pushed it all the way in, the light from the hallway streaming into the dark room. “Dean?” She called out quietly.

She squinted her eyes against the darkness, waiting for them to adjust, to see across the room better. The scene melted her heart a little, slightly easing that uneasy feeling in her chest. 

Dean was sound asleep, Castiel curled up around him almost protectively. Dean was snuggled up to his chest, his head resting in the crook of his neck as his chest rose and fell evenly. “Dean?” She said again, this time a little louder. She hated to wake him, but she was kind of on a tight schedule. 

Dean jumped awake at the sound of his name, inhaling sharply, and jarring Castiel awake as well. She winced at his violent reaction, Castiel’s arms tightening just slightly around his shoulders to keep Dean from flying out of the hospital bed. He blinked groggily, “Jess?” 

“Yeah,” she said, “I’m, uh. I’m here to take you guys back to Bobby’s. If you’re ready, I mean.” 

Dean readjusted himself in the bed before he nodded slowly, “yeah, I’m good.”

”Dean,” chided Castiel, “you can stay here if you are not feeling up to it.” 

“I’m fine, Cas. Let’s go.” 

“In his defense, you don’t really look fine,” said Jess. He kind of looked like a hit and run, but the driver came back for a second round. 

“I. Am. Fine.”

______________________________________

Dean did not appear to be fine. 

Castiel practically carried him back to Jess’s borrowed truck, Jess hovering awkwardly at their sides just in case he dropped him or something. Though she wasn’t sure there was much she could do if Dean’s entire body weight was coming down on her.

The receptionist had looked hesitant in discharging him, but technically, she legally could not hold him against his will. He’d changed out of his hospital gown into a pair of sweatpants, and a jacket that zipped up so it was easy to take on and off.

“We’re stopping to eat somewhere,” announced Jess, once Castiel helped Dean spread out in the backseat. 

“ ‘m not hungry, J,” said Dean. 

“See, I don’t care. You haven’t eaten anything solid in two days. There’s a diner down the road. They’re cheap, and they have good reviews.”

”I can’t even pick up a fucking fork.” 

“Then your boyfriend can be a gentleman and feed you your food.” She smirked as both Dean and Castiel turned bright red, averting their gazes from her. Castiel sat in the back with Dean, ensuring that he didn’t get too jostled by the ride. “Plus, Sam wanted to make sure that you ate anyway.” Dean grumbled something about his overprotective brother.

The ride was quick. 

Dean was mostly silent, only speaking to make a comment about some drunk guy passed out on the side of the road. He looked more dead than anything to Jess. Apparently, they weren’t the only ones that had a rough night. 

Jess dropped Dean and Castiel off at the door of the diner as she pulled around the building to park. “Get us a table,” she instructed. 

When she hurried back into the diner (it was cold out), she spied Dean and Cas huddled in the far corner booth. Dean had the menu awkwardly pinched in between his pointer and middle finger as he tried to read it, swatting away Castiel’s hand when he offered to help. Asshole was stubborn, that’s for sure. Jess thought he could read it just fine if he laid it flat on the table.

Jess slid into the booth across from them, sliding another menu towards herself. “I’m thinking pancakes,” she said, trying to make conversation, “you?” 

“Uh…,” Dean glanced down at the menu again, “same.”

He was much quieter than his usual abrasive self, and it was putting her off a little. Sam had been right in saying that something didn’t feel right about him. Now, it wasn’t really an uneasy kind of wrong. His gaze looked distant, hollow. It was like he’d seen a ghost (speaking hypothetically.)

The waitress skipped over to them a few moments later, pen already in hand as she offered to take their drinks. She was probably ten or so years older than Jess, her bright orange hair pulled into a tight bun. Jess got an orange juice (maybe it was her hair that convinced her), and Castiel a water. “Okay, and for you?” She asked Dean when she finished writing down Castiel’s order.

“Water,” he said, and then he held up both of his hands, “with a straw, please.” 

The waitress blinked in shock, “you poor dear,” she said honestly, shaking her head as she sauntered away. “Linda, some guy at table thirteen has two broken hands and a black eye,” she said not so quietly. 

“How does somebody break both of their hands?” Linda yelled back from the kitchen. 

“I just love being pitied,” muttered Dean, slumping back against the backrest.

”In her defense, I believe that anybody would look at you currently and feel bad for you,” said Castiel. “You look terrible.” 

“Gee, thanks.” 

Jess snorted, and Dean shot her a not so playful glare. 

And when the food arrived, Jess had to slice his pancakes up into bite sized pieces (well, she probably didn’t, but she thought it would be funny if she did). Dean did not appreciate it.  

______________________________________

John Winchester was already waiting for them when they arrived back at Bobby’s , sitting cross legged in the living room chair with his hands folded over his lap. Jess shuddered. This was some kind of final destination shit. 

“Dad,” said Dean, giving him a curt not. 

“Son. Dean’s friend. Why don’t we all take a seat?”

“It hasn’t even been two minutes,” Dean muttered to himself, shaking his head. 

At the sound of the commotion, Sam had peeked his head around the corner wall blocking the staircase. He smiled when he saw Jess, and then winced when he looked at his father. “Sam,” she breathed out. 

Her boyfriend begrudgingly entered the room, making a beeline for Jess. She practically melted into his arms, letting out a content sigh. “Perfect,” said John, “now that we’re all here,” he gestured at the couch.

Jess exchanged a look with Sam before the two of them squeezed into the other armchair, Dean and Castiel taking the couch. They both looked about as happy as Jess felt, which was not at all. 

“I have some questions,” said John. 

“Great! Then that makes two of us,” retorted Dean. 

“Me first, then,” said John, ignoring Dean, “you feelin’ okay, boy?”

Dean blinked in shock, obviously not expecting that question at all, “yeah? Sort of?” He narrowed his eyes, “are you feelin’ okay? Don’t think you’ve ever asked me that in my life, maybe ‘sides when I got shot in the leg during that hunt in Tennessee.”

John ignored that, and Jess thinned her lips. Tough crowd. “Now, who are you,” he said, looking at Castiel, “I haven’t really gotten a straight answer, except that you’re the guy the demons were after.”

Castiel straightened in his seat, making himself look a bit larger. It was working. Something about his very presence was intimidating. “And I will tell you what I told Sam. Dean and I crossed paths with them a while ago, during a hunt. We have unfortunately… angered them.”

”And how long ago was this?” 

Castiel glanced over at Dean for conformation, “a month? Perhaps a bit longer.” 

Dean nodded, agreeing with him. “Yup.”

”A month. Bobby here claims that the two of ya have known each other for two years. How come I ain’t ever seen ya?”

Jess frowned. It was weird. Two years, Dean had known him, and not once had John met Castiel. Even if it was by accident, he should of at least seen him once or twice. 

“I do have a life outside of what I do with you, dad,” Dean drawled, picking at the plaster surrounding his thumb absently.

“You coulda gotten Dean killed,” growled John. 

“Dad,” started Sam from next to her, “I’ve already had this conversation with him. He’s sorry, he didn’t mean it.” 

“He’s sorry,” sneered John, “that ain’t cuttin’ it.”

Jess could see Castiel’s eyes darken across from her, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Before he could even speak, Dean jumped into the conversation to defend him, “it ain’t his fault, Dad. It takes two to tango. I pissed those fuckers off just as much as he did.”

”But you—“

”John!” Barked Dean, “enough. Cas didn’t do shit.” He lifted his chin in a challenge, and for some reason, Jess found herself smiling. Their relationship was something special. She could see how much the two of them cared for each other, and if the others weren’t as oblivious as she was, then they would too. 

“What’s happened to you, Dean?” Said John sadly. “You ain’t the same.” 

He shrugged, “you left. I woke the fuck up. I don’t need you to function. You’ve been so goddam wrapped up in tryin’ to hunt down Azazel, that you forgot you had two damn kids of your own!”

Jess could see John’s jaw click shut. “I’m still your father, Dean, and you should show me some damn respect.”  

Dean scoffed, “respect,” and then he looked over at Castiel, “you hearin’ him right now, Cas? Respect?” He shook his head, climbing to his feet, and then he swiftly exited the room. Jess was mildly impressed, seeing as he was having trouble taking a few steps by himself not even a few hours before. Castiel awkwardly smiled, clearing his throat before he pointed after Dean and quickly followed him.

John stared after Dean and Castiel, an expression of confusion and anger plastered across his face. “For what it’s worth,” said Jess, “he’ll come around. Maybe you could take a less… interrogation-ish approach? Just talk to him, father to son.” 

A muscle twitched in his jaw, his still folded hands clenching together over his lap. “She’s right, dad,” said Sam. 

“I don’t wanna hear it, Sam,” he said. “I gotta go, anyway. There’s a case in Michigan that I gotta finish.” 

John slowly rose from his chair, and Jess could audibly hear the joints in his knees pop from where she was sitting. “I’ll be outta your hair tomorrow morning,” he said, exiting the room in a similar fashion to Dean. 

Sam cleared his throat once John’s figure disappeared up the stairs. “That went well.”

Jess snorted, “judging by their clashing personalities, it probably could have gone a lot worse.” 

“You have no idea. They got into a fist fight last time.”

“Yeah, well. I’m not so sure that your father would have a chance at winning those any more.”

Jess barely noticed the look that passed over Sam’s face, “I’m not so sure either.” 

DEAN (THE DAY BEFORE LUCIFER ROSE)

”Can’t fuckin’ believe thisis happinen!” Dean bellowed at the sky, the bottle of half drank liquor sloshing around in his hand. “Fuckin’ God, ain’t doin’ shit ‘bout this! Asshole,” he muttered, taking another swig from the bottle. 

Dean just muttered to himself as he aimlessly wandered the alleyway behind the bar he’d just taken the bottle from. He thought he paid. Maybe not. Whatever.  

A few passerby’s spared him an odd look or two, but wisely gave him a wide berth otherwise. “Lucifer’s gonna killl usss!” Dean deliriously sang, letting out a slightly hysterical laugh. “Is th-at watcha want?” He hiccuped, looking to the skies. 

Dean took another swig from the bottle, before hurling it at the ground with a scream of anger. The bottle shattered into a million pieces, the glass skittering across the concrete. Dean cursed as he felt a piece of it nick his cheek. He didn’t really have it in him to care.

”Hello, Dean.” 

Dean drunkenly grinned, turning to face the angel. “Heyaaa, Cas. Cassie. Didja know that the wo-orld’s gonna end t’morrow? You know that all of us’re gonna die?”

Cas looked sad for some reason, but Dean’s muddled mind couldn’t make heads or tails of why he would be. “I did,” he simply answered. 

“I gotta—“ Dean hiccuped again, pointing at a full bottle of whiskey perched on a ledge, “gotta ‘nother bottle. Wanna share?” 

Cas just gazed at it contemplatively, “you know what, Dean, I do want to share.” Dean grinned as Cas grabbed the bottle, popping it open with his thumb. Dean found himself laughing, for some reason, as Cas took a long drink from the bottle, until half of it was gone.

“Good stuff,” muttered Dean, “good, good stuff.”

Dean stumbled backwards as he spun in a circle, tripping over his own feet. He grunted when his back hit the solid wall that was Cas’ chest. Cas was there. Why was he there? Why had he come to see Dean? 

“Are you alright?” Cas asked quietly, his hand lightly touching his shoulder. 

“Yuh, huh,” said Dean, bobbing his head up and down. “I’m gr-eat, actually.” 

Cas met Dean’s eyes, and his face broke into a grin as he let out a giggle, “pretty eyes,” cooed Dean, tracing a hand down Cas’ face almost against his own will. “Really blue!”

Cas’ breath hitched as he carefully watched Dean. “There’s a chance that we could win tomorrow,” he said. 

“Nuh uh,” said Dean, shaking his head, “not gonna.” For a moment, his mind cleared as he focused on the ethereal blue of Cas’ eyes. He grinned because Cas came to see him. “Pretty,” mumbled Dean again, “ ‘m I pretty, Casss?”

Cas was quiet, his eyes sad, “yes,” he said without hesitation, “beautiful.”