Chapter Text
The diner was small and dimly lit through dirty windows. Throughout the confined space the smell of grease was pungent, but not as thick as that of the local alcoholics. Everything was worn, outdated, and probably in violation of health codes.
Dean was easy to spot in the near-empty establishment he clearly didn’t belong in, poking at a burger that looked anything but appetizing. His coffee cup had something that resembled tar stuck to the bottom. You could see it through the misty brown liquid left untouched.
Wordlessly Cas sat down across from Dean, finding his green eyes dull and distant, unrecognizing. Cas lowered his head and stared at his hands as if they held the answers. There was no other movement in the establishment. There wasn’t even any noise other than the humming of outdated machines and boiling oil.
Cutting through the empty tension was Dean’s knife, promptly plunged into his “burger”. “How did you know where to find me?” He spoke in a forced neutral tone.
“I… uhm, as I’ve told Claire once, I can hear prayers as simple as longing or a, uh, fleeting thought.” A nervous smile accompanied the tripping over his own words.
“A longing, huh, Cas?” Dean laughed almost deliriously, his head finding the table’s greasy surface. “Is that anything like invading someone’s dreams and, oh, I don’t know, manipulating their feelings? It’s a freaking invasion of privacy and a... a misuse of power and a million other kinds of wrong.”
It might still be firmly in the “burger”, but it felt like Dean was holding the knife at his throat. Now, knives like that couldn’t kill an angel, of course, but it was lethal nonetheless.
Dean lifted the knife to point at Cas like a dagger, the contents of the “burger” flying everywhere including Cas’ face. It was hilarious, nobody laughed. Dean didn’t even flinch at his thoughtless action.
He waved the knife around as he lashed out, “You’re better than this, or at least so I thought.”
“I would never manipulate you again. I haven’t forgotten about purgatory.” Cas stared daggers at Dean for suggesting something so hurtful, momentarily forgetting that he’d done him wrong.
A silence fell as Dean journeyed through facial expressions as he thought how best to approach this. Cas showed no outward emotions but he too evaluated his options. The silence begged for words to spare.
"Dean…" was all they could find, spoken by Cas in the characteristic way he did when meant languages worth of words.
Dean licked his lips as his dream flashed by once more. “But you’ve been entering my dreams?” Cas’ head dropped, eyes cast down.
“Yes.” It came out as a sigh from the depths of his semi-existent soul. “I’m ashamed of this. When I was human I had dreams of my own, mostly nightmares. Though the process of falling asleep was terrifying, the good dreams were an escape of reality. Your dreams provide me that comfort.”
Many emotions flashed across Dean’s face. Cas waited impatiently. The scenery hardly moved, giving him nothing to occupy his mind with other than fear and diminishing hope. He already felt like he had so much to make up for and this only added to the list. He didn’t want to fight for his place again. The Winchesters are his home, his only home.
After Dean had already opened and closed his mouth to say something a few times, he finally spoke, his voice breaking. “You uhm… you can’t do that Cas. Haven’t we all learned not to go behind each other’s back?” There were tears in his eyes when he looked up. Cas’ heart shrivelled and he felt like he was drowning in his clothes.
“I’m sorry Dean, I-” Cas started but Dean continued, “you can’t go hurting and not tell us. We’re here for you for, well, anything. Not saying we’ll never disagree or be mad about shit, but me and Sam will stand by you like you were our actual brother.”
Cas perked up like the first flowers of spring, looking a head taller than he had a minute ago. He was speechless. Dean wiped away his tears and added: “I thought you knew that by now.”
“I’ve felt like I haven’t earned that…” Cas muttered. It was a weight off his shoulders to admit it, but it was something else that broke the tension: Dean’s unusual reaction; He struggled to fight back his laughter. “Hold on, I can’t take you seriously with half a burger on your face," Dean quipped.
They both laughed and as though their interaction had halted time, everything around them started moving again. The waitress came with coffee and napkins, a chef grabbed a ticket from the rack, new people walked in, and the road contained traffic once more.
Despite the bustling crowd, Sam found Eileen easily. She contrasted starkly against the customers in elaborate clothes and their sparkling jewellery adorning every piece of socially acceptable skin. She was happily sipping her custom drink, a plate, empty save for a few crumbs, had been shoved away from her.
Over the times that he’s hunted or hung out with Eileen Sam had learned that she loved being surrounded by sound, to feel the vibrations in the air she was more sensitive to. Where hearing people think you can only feel the heavy high volume bass of the likes of dubstep, those waves can actually be as overwhelming as the sound of them is to the hearing.
She smiled when she saw him approach and Sam sat down across her, grinning a little himself. A waitress with a plastic smile appeared at their table before Sam could sign much more than ‘hello’ and ‘nice to see you’. He ordered one of the exotic smoothies the lady recommended and was glad to be in company that didn’t question his wishes for something healthy.
“So, what are we hunting?” Sam asked after he got his drink.
Eileen brought out her laptop and turned the screen so Sam could see. “I’m almost sure it’s a Crocotta, but as you know I can’t exactly hear it call for its victims.”
“So you needed a listening ear?” Eileen punched his shoulder playfully, feigning her feelings having been hurt “Ow, I was serious.” Sam pouted and pretended even touching the “assaulted” area hurts him immensely.
Eileen took a deep breath and opened her eyes with a clear determination in them. “Can we focus on the case? I think I’ve found it’s hunting grounds. All the victims lived or disappeared on the edge of the reserve here within a 12-mile radius.”
Sam ran a hand down his face until it remained stroking his chin, his eyes not focused on anything in the room.“12 miles is a lot of woods to comb through…” He sighed.
“Yes, but right here”, Eileen enthusiastically showed a location on her phone, “is an abandoned dump. Lore says they live in filth, right?”
“Okay, all of this is very impressive, so what do you need me for? You’ve slain plenty creatures you couldn’t hear.” His words dripped with admiration and Eileen’s breath hitched.
“Normally it wouldn’t matter, but a Crocotta mostly hunts by luring people with their voices. Also it’s nice to have back-up every now and then… and you could use the break.” Eileen’s voice trailed off.
“Break from..?”
Eileen rolled her eyes and made wild hand gestures as she said: “Dean and Cas playing their game of ‘I love you, but I’m too blind to see you feel the same’”
“That’s very, uh…” Sam couldn’t help but grin as he processed her comment, “-kind of you.”
A tense silence hung in the air before they both decided to focus on the case, casual chitchat and heavier topics put aside. It wasn’t long before they concluded their research done and left for the suspected nest.