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“Hey, hey!” Dean yells, watching Martin fight with the lift. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“It’s stuck, I was just—”
“Trying to lose a goddamn arm is what you’re trying to do. Get out from under there, you idiot, and let it down completely, then reposition the car and go again. Jesus.”
Bobby gives him a warning eyebrow and Dean manages to keep his mouth shut by storming into the store attached to the garage.
They sell coffee and gum and soft drinks and hot dogs that dry into jerky by the end of the day and are probably going to be the death of him. But it’s biggest selling point at the moment is that no one out here is trying to get themselves killed.
“Hey, Cas,” he says to the new attendant. He pours the coffee on top of the cold dregs in his travel mug. “Can you put a coffee on my tab? Swear to God, I’m gonna kill this new guy if he doesn’t kill himself first.” He shakes the container next to the coffee pot. “Shit, we’re outta half and half. Do you have some back there or should I grab one outta the cooler?” He tosses the empty container and looks up.
Cas is watching him curiously, eyes slightly narrowed, head tipped, and Dean realizes he may be coming across a little rough for the guy’s first week. He takes a deep breath. “Sorry, man. It’s just...it’s been a rough day. Martin just about dropped a car on himself. You, ah...you alright out here? You like the job okay?”
Cas nods slowly. “I do. It feels good to be...responsible for something like this. Something tangible. Let me get you the half and half. I won’t let it run out again.”
“You’re doing great,” Dean reassures. He looks around, trying to see the shop like that—tangible responsibility. It’s not much, their little store, but he thinks he gets it. “I remember the first time someone trusted me to open on my own, man. Can’t beat that feeling.” Granted, he was fifteen at the time, and had already been working at some odd job or another for four years prior, but he imagines this is pretty similar. It had been nice to succeed at something. Even if it wasn’t enough to keep him and Sammy on top for long.
Cas hands him the half and half. “Thank you, Dean,” he says softly, and it’s the softness that really gets Dean’s attention. Not too many people look at him like that—appreciative. Not with his gruff exterior.
“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbles. “Thanks, man.” He hurries to fix his coffee and gives a vague wave when he turns back to the garage. That unnerving look follows him.
“Brother, you know I love you,” Benny says, and just like that, Dean knows it’s bad news.
“Andrea?”
Benny smiles, his eyes squinting nearly shut. The guy is so gone on this girl, it’s a little sickening.
“Yeah,” Benny admits. “She asked me to move in. What could I say?”
Dean raises an eyebrow. “You could say, ‘Dean can’t afford our place on his own.’”
Dean drops the reproachful look. Benny’s too damn happy to notice and Andrea is pretty cool, and god knows someone deserves a happy ending, here. “Congratulations, man,” he says, pulling Benny in for a hug.
“You’ll find someone to pick up the rent, man. I can help you look.”
“Nah. You know me. I’ll hunt up some poor sucker.”
Benny looks at him with a knowing smile. “Uh-huh. You pulled me out of a bad place, brother. I know you’ll do the same for the next guy.”
“Whatever, dude. Pack your shit.”
Benny grins and Dean can’t help but grin back.
Asshole.
Dean finds a sleeping bag and canvas backpack in the back room of the store, tucked behind the shelf where they keep the extra pumice soap. He doesn’t ask questions or bring it up with Bobby, but when he gets to the garage at 5 am one morning and Cas is brewing coffee two hours before they open, he has his answer.
“Hey,” he says casually as he fills his travel mug. “My roommate bugged out on me and I have an extra room. If you were looking for a place to stay?”
Castiel looks up at him, brows low in puzzlement. “I don’t really...I don’t have a lot of money or...references.” The word sounds foreign in his mouth.
Dean shrugs. “Well, I can vouch for your job. We’ll figure it out. Why don’t you come by and look at the place this week? See if you’re even interested?”
“Yes. Okay. That sounds...good.”
Dean gives him a ride over after work, and the guy sets his backpack down in Benny’s old room.
“Yes,” Cas says. “I like it. Thank you, Dean.”
“You got it, Cas,” and the smile he gets in return is blinding.
“Hey, ah…” He never knows quite how to get through this part, but after the bullshit with Earl he finds the awkwardness at the beginning is way better than the shitstorm he’s asking for by skipping it. “I’m ah...I’m queer. So, just in case that’s gonna be a problem.”
Cas tips his head questioningly.
“Bi? I’m...y’know, I might bring a guy back or something.”
“I think you’re very kind,” Castiel says, as if it’s all the answer Dean needs.
Dean waits, but that’s all Cas seems to have to say on the subject. “Ah, okay. Thanks, man. Then, I guess we’re cool?”
Cas smiles broadly. He looks...triumphant. “Yes. I think we are. Cool.”
Dean laughs softly. “Great. Welcome aboard, then.”
Cas takes Dean’s travel mug when Dean gives him a ride in the morning. He brings it out to Dean in the garage where he’s looking over the schedule.
“You don’t have to do that, you know. I’m capable of getting coffee.”
“I know. I just wanted to do something. To thank you.”
Dean waves him off. “Didn’t do anything,” he grumbles, studying the schedule uncomfortably until Cas walks away.
He works his way through two brake jobs and starts on an engine rebuild with a minimum of swearing. It’s really all going pretty smooth and easy.
“You’re in a weird mood,” Bobby says, watching him suspiciously.
Dean shrugs. “We can’t all be as sunny as you, old man.”
Bobby narrows his eyes. “Idjit,” he finally says, grumbling under his breath as he makes his way to the office.
Dean grins and gets back to it. He feels focused today. Accomplished. Good. Even Martin can’t get his back up. He’s got a new roommate, a full mug of coffee, and the rest...well, everyone’s allowed to have a good day, right?
Dean does the last checks on Charlie’s little Gremlin—tire pressure, lights, lug nuts. It’s probably overzealous—he did all the work himself, he knows its right—but Charlie’s his best friend and he’s going to make damn sure he doesn’t make some stupid mistake that puts her in a ditch.
He pulls around to see her holding a fresh mug of coffee and practically vibrating with glee.
“What?” he asks, climbing out of the car and looking down at her suspiciously.
“What do you mean, what? Can’t a girl just stand here? With coffee?” She nudges him with an elbow. “That she got from your incredibly hot, incredibly sweet new roomie?”
“Your keys,” he says, holding them out and shuffling her toward the driver’s side. “Stop playing matchmaker and get this heap of junk off the lot. You’ll scare the customers.”
She narrows her eyes. “I see right through that cranky exterior, Dean Winchester. And just so you know, Cas had very nice things to say about you.”
He pointedly ignores her. “Your back window is getting to be a hazard, you know.”
Her face brightens and she squeals, stepping back to the window in question. “Oh my God, did you see the new General Organa one? Gilda got it for me!”
She points to where it’s mounted in an increasingly impressive jumble of decals, flanked by a rainbow heart and a pentagram that reads, ‘My other car is a broom.’
“I hate to break it to you, but that window is actually for seeing out of. Hard to do when three quarters of it is your nerdy shit.”
“Hey! I take pride in who I am, Dean.”
“Take pride safely, Charles.”
She glares at him and then grins. “You’re sweet. Don’t you worry.” She pats the roof of the car affectionately. “Gizmo’s got me.”
She opens the door and turns back to him. “I like Cas. You should bring him over. We could have a game night or something. Oooh, you should bring him to the masquerade party!”
“Halloween is months away, Charlie. It is way too early to be thinking about that.”
“First of all, it’s Samhain. And second of all, it is never too early to plan a party.”
“Go home,” he tells her firmly.
She raises an eyebrow and sighs. “Fine.” She folds herself into the car and starts it up. “Ta ta for now, Dean-o. I’ll talk to you soon.” It sounds like a threat.
He lets himself grin once she’s safely out of sight.
Cas is flipping through Netflix when Dean gets off the phone.
“Hey, buddy. My brother’s going to come by for a few days, crash on the couch and see what’s up in Sioux Falls. Hope you don’t mind—he’s annoying but I’m kinda stuck with him.” He wonders if Cas will understand. Hopes he will.
Cas look up at him, his face goes soft and sad. “That sounds...wonderful, Dean. I look forward to meeting him.”
“You got brothers or sisters or anything? They’re always welcome, I hope you know. Mi casa is literally su casa.” He collapses on the couch and gestures broadly.
Cas smiles wanly. “My family and I had a...disagreement. I don’t really speak with them anymore.”
Dean’s stomach falls. “Oh.” He’s obviously plunged into something they maybe aren’t ready to get into. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean…”
Cas touches his arm and it’s electric. “Thank you for asking. It means a lot.”
There’s something about Cas that is so sincere. It’s disarming. It worms its way under Dean’s skin in ways he tries not to think about.
Dean’s puzzled when he finishes cooking the burgers and can’t find Cas. They rode home together, the kitchen’s the only way out of the apartment, and the place is way too small to lose someone.
Dean’s starting to get a little frantic when he finally thinks to check out the front window. He’s the only one who goes out there, it’s not like a patio or anything. There’s no railing and it’s not exactly flat—it’s just the roof of the addition below, with a minimal pitch and a pretty low probability of falling off the edge. No one’s allowed out there—it’s in the lease and everything—but Dean doesn’t worry too much about rules that don’t have good reasons, so he’ll sometimes sit just outside the window, set a drink on the sill and look over the city. Enjoy the cool air.
Maybe Cas has caught onto that little trick.
He doesn’t see him at first. Dean typically sits just outside the window, but Cas is all the way on the edge, legs dangling on either side of the minimal peak. Dean feels suddenly cold.
Cas is quiet. He has history—there are things he can’t or won’t say. Dean knows Cas has secrets, because he knows what those look like in the mirror. But he’d never thought Cas would end it, and certainly not on his watch.
He struggles on his way out and Cas turns as he slips a bit and his feet scrape on the asphalt shingles.
“Dean!” Cas’s smile is broad and full—maybe the most honest smile Dean has seen out of him since they’ve met. His fear for Cas lifts immediately, but now he’s halfway across the peak of a roof with no railing because he’d been afraid his roommate was going to jump, and it seems the right kind of ironic that he’d manage to slip and fall to his death instead.
He stands stiffly, evaluating his options, and then Cas stands and holds out a hand, looking just as comfortable here as he is walking through the apartment. Dean looks at that hand for a long moment before taking it, and suddenly he’s steady, even being three stories up. He takes two steps forward and perches on the peak next to Cas.
“Were you looking for me?” Cas asks, dropping back down and turning to sit next to Dean.
“Oh, yeah. Just—I finished dinner if you want a burger.”
He glances over just in time to see Cas smile. “Thank you, Dean. That’s very generous. I was just enjoying the night, here. It’s been a long time since I got to see the city like this.”
“You’re just a regular Batman,” Dean chuckles.
“What’s that?” Cas tilts his head curiously.
Dean shakes his head. He should be used to it by now, Cas misses most of his references. But he’s been doing his due diligence getting the guy up to speed. “Nothing, really. He’s a superhero, kinda. I’ll show you, I think you’ll like him. He hangs out on tall buildings a lot.”
Cas makes a small noise, like the smallest beginnings of laughter. “That does sound like me. I like the view from here. The distance. It seems more balanced like this—the stars of creation and the stars of humanity.”
“Ah. Batman, but poetic. You’re like, if Walt Whitman was Batman.”
“You’ll have to show me Walt Whitman.”
Dean nods. “I can do that.” He looks out at the city. The lights that shine and merge together at the horizon. Taillights and streetlights and windows and office building signs. Stars of humanity. Man, that sounded a lot nicer than light pollution or overpopulation or urban sprawl.
“I just...sometimes it’s easier to be alone out here than alone with a lot of people,” Cas says softly.
Dean freezes, tries not to feel the hurt that’s prickling through his ribcage. Maybe because he’s felt that kind of alone before, and maybe because he’d trusted that Cas felt comfortable with him. Maybe he’d misread their friendship. “Do you want me to go?”
Cas looked over, head tilted, eyes narrowed in puzzlement. “No. I enjoy your company.” He looks back out.
Dean relaxes. “Cool. Me too.” He spends too long placing his hand between them after considering Cas’s arm and shoulder. Better to let Cas decide if that’s something he’s comfortable with. “You, ah...you miss your family?” he finally asks.
Cas nods very slowly, as if deciding whether it’s true. “Yes? Yes, I think so. I miss how they were. How we were. It’s hard to know who I am without that. Without...them.” He looks out again at the city and the sky, and Dean’s casting around for something else to say when Cas continues. “I like it here, though. I like the garage. I like the customers. I used to watch people a lot, I find them very interesting.”
“Listen to you, like you’re not even human,” Dean jokes, bumping his shoulder into Cas’s.
“I’m not.”
Dean looks over, struck by the way Cas says it. Matter of fact. “Hey,” he says softly. “I know it may seem that way, but you are. And you’re a good one. Believe me, I know; I’ve seen all kinds. You’ll find your way. We’ll help with whatever you need.”
“Thank you, Dean.” Cas leans into him and they sit in silence for a long time.
“I feel it with you,” Cas finally says quietly.
Dean’s heart jumps in his throat and he fights to keep his voice steady. “What...what’s that?”
“Human,” Cas says, and Dean wills his heartbeat to return to normal.
The night’s going pretty well. He’s here to show Cas a good time, have a drink, throw some music on the jukebox so Cas can hear the good stuff. And if there are a few dicks looking for a game of pool, it seems like maybe a good time to shake off the rust, see if he’s still got it.
It takes two games for them to wise up, and there’s three of them, and Dean nudges Cas’s hip to push him back while Dean steps up. It’ll be close. It might actually be a little bit of a blood bath, if he’s honest. It’s been a while. But nothing worse than he used to get when he was a kid. He takes a deep breath as the largest—Kyle?—cracks his knuckles.
“We don’t appreciate the likes of you, boy,” he growls.
Dean laughs. He’s thirty-two, for crying out loud. “An old man who can kick your ass, you mean?” He’s starting to warm up to the idea. He changes his grip on the cue, prepares to crack it over good old Kyle’s head, when Cas steps around him.
“Stop,” he says.
They freeze at the whip-crack of his voice.
He’s not loud, exactly, but there’s something about him that’s new. That demands attention. Something in his stance, an electricity about how he holds himself. He’s shorter than Dean but he fills the room.
Dean can’t look away. Cas is huge and foreign and permanent. Like the sequoia forest Dean saw on one of the Winchester road trips—trees that were there before that idiot Columbus landed, before Lewis and Clark made their way through the wilds of the west—trees that towered over them like gods.
“There will be no violence here tonight,” Cas says. And he stands there. Just stands, tall and terrifying, and no one seems remotely interested in challenging him. Dean certainly isn’t.
The three men edge past them, the money still on the table. Dean goes to retrieve it and Cas watches him, intent and silent.
Dean leaves it where it is and they walk to the car.
His hands shake a little on the wheel, even as Cas’s weird...aura dies down. It’s only when they pull into the driveway that Cas speaks again. “You lied to them.”
Dean shifts uncomfortably. “It’s, ah, just a hustle, man. No big deal. Usually. If you do it right.”
Cas’s tone isn’t judgemental the way Dean’s expecting. It’s...confused. Like Dean let him down somehow. “Why would you do that? I don’t understand.”
Dean opens his mouth and can’t think of a thing to say. Because he did it to impress Cas—the way he used to impress girls when he was twenty-two and stupid. The way he hasn’t dreamed of doing for years, because he’s grown up and has a job and doesn’t have to hustle to put food on the table. He feels a little sick. “Just a shitty person, I guess.” He turns and weaves through the parking lot. Quickly, so Cas can’t see his face. So he can’t see Cas’s disappointment.
Cas catches up and tugs his arm to pull him around. His mouth is tight, his eyes narrow. “No,” he says firmly. “You’re not.” His face softens. “You’re generous and thoughtful. That’s why I don’t understand.”
Dean’s first instinct is to fight. Snarl. Tell Cas off and stalk away. Slam some doors.
But Cas is different. He’s sincere and curious, and has never once made Dean feel like less. Even though he is. He knows he is.
“I made a mistake,” Dean finally says.
Cas smiles at him. “Okay,” he says simply. “It happens.”
Dean goes lightheaded, still half expecting a reprimand. But no, that's all Cas wanted, apparently. “Yeah, I guess it does.”
He hesitates before he speaks again. It feels invasive. But Cas makes him want to admit things, and ask things, and open doors he thought he’d closed forever. “You okay, Cas? You seemed...real upset.”
Cas moves to walk beside him, their shoulders nearly touching. “I’m all right. I just...I abhor violence. It—reminds me of...things I’ve left behind.”
Dean’s stomach drops. He triggered the guy with his bullshit posturing. He suddenly feels like a kid again, short sighted and stupid. “Shit. I’m real sorry, buddy, I didn’t know. My, ah, my old man was in the service, so I know that can be really hard.”
“Thank you, Dean,” Cas says, quiet and sincere, and Dean feels like he got off way too easy.
“I’m going as a dashing highway robber, what do you think?” Dean gives an eyebrow wiggle and then holds the mask up to his face, and then he can’t breathe when Cas touches it with careful fingers, just a fabric’s width from stroking his cheek.
“I like it,” Cas says simply.
Dean takes it off slowly. “Here,” he says, and then he has to clear his throat. “You try it.”
He holds it up to Cas’s face, and the black frames his blue eyes. They’re piercing. He looks like Zorro. Like the Lone Ranger. Like he’s here from some exotic locale to tell Dean something important. To take him on a quest. To sweep him away like he’s some ridiculous damsel in distress.
Jesus fuck.
“Looks good,” he says finally, and Cas grins slowly. Cheshire cat grin. Like maybe he’s starting to have some idea of the effect he’s having on Dean, after months of being utterly clueless.
Nothing prepares Dean for Cas’s costume.
“Dean?”
He realizes he’s been staring. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”
Cas is dressed in white—a loose tunic, tights and a leather belt looped over itself and studded with bright red stones and carved with knotwork. On his back are a set of wings—huge and shining blue and black and green in the light. How on earth he got them into the apartment without Dean noticing is a mystery he’ll worry about later.
Cas must have done something with his hair, because it, too, gleams blue and green. There’s a crown tangled into the messy curls—white and gold and delicate, looking like a piece of art that grew out of the ground—woven grasses or stems or branches.
Not a crown, he realizes. A halo. An angel’s halo.
The guy is completely fucking beautiful. Dean’s been told all his life how beautiful he is, but this—this is the definition of it, and it’s not the slight he’s been hearing all this time. It’s the highest compliment.
“Dean?” Cas’s voice is tinged with worry, now, and he adjusts the halo uncertainly with long fingers.
“Fuck.” He realizes he’s staring again. “Yeah, Cas. Looking good, man. We, ah, better get going.” He spins around before Cas can ask any questions. “Probably won’t take too long to get there, you know, kids should be about done with trick or treating, roads are clear, I think it’s going to be smooth sailing.” He’s answering questions no one asked as he picks up his keys, and he has no idea how to stop. “Not sure how you’re gonna fit those wings in the car, maybe you can put ‘em in the back or something, or lie down or fold ‘em up or something. Those are nuts, man. You must’ve spent an arm and a leg on them. Really put me to shame, I’ll have to up my game next year.”
Cas manages to pull the wings around himself so the longest bits are tilted back over the seat and then stretch down to rest on the floor mat. He makes it look easy, like he wrangles angel wings into classic cars every Friday.
The party is already in full force when they arrive. There’s a graveyard set up in the front yard, complete with skeletal hands bursting from the ground. The front porch is covered with carved pumpkins and painted sigils that are there year round. Charlie and her girlfriends take Halloween very seriously.
Dean grabs the beer and leads Cas inside, and they weave through a dizzying array of characters to get to the kitchen and drop off their offering.
He introduces Cas around, costumed revelers whirling around in every direction, various levels of drunk and giddy. Cas attracts a lot of attention and Dean tries not to feel weirdly possessive.
Cas is smiling but there’s something about his expression that makes Dean realize suddenly how this might feel to an outsider. All these people and costumes and music and merriment. He’s never seen Cas in a group like this before.
“Hey, do you want to go someplace quieter for a few? It’s kind of loud out here.”
Cas looks so grateful. “Yes, that sounds good.”
Dean pulls him into the hallway that leads to the cellar—low traffic—and sets their drinks down. “Hey, I’m sorry. I know this is a lot. If you need to go home at any point, just let me know. We don’t have to stay all night.”
“It is...a lot. But I like your friends. They’re kind hearted, good people. I like seeing that. How much people can love one another.”
Dean smiles. Cas has this insane optimism that never seems to falter no matter what Dean’s bitching about. Three drinks is hardly enough to touch Dean, really. But his skin is warm and oversensitive like he’s had twice that. He’s reminded that sometimes he thinks about Cas and how it might feel to touch, to hold. And now Cas is looking at him intently, searching.
Dean swallows. “I’m lucky to have good friends, Cas. Good people. Like you.”
Cas is standing very close. The hallway is narrow, and those huge wings take up a lot of space. It feels suddenly very intimate.
Dean reaches out before he can think about it, brushing fingers past Cas’s shoulder and neck, to touch Cas’s wing. He strokes along the soft structure of one of the huge feathers, all the gentleness he doesn’t dare apply to Cas himself. The wings have gotten so warm in the crowd they almost feel alive.
“Dean,” Cas breathes. He catches Dean’s wrist gently, brings it down in front of him and flattens his hand so their palms touch. Not quite holding, but intimate. Dean's heart races.
“Thank you,” Cas says. “You have made me feel a part of your life, you have been so kind and patient with me. I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”
He talks like Dean is some shining example and it twists in Dean’s stomach. It feels like a lie. It feels like something Dean has to explain, correct, temper. Because whatever Cas thinks he’s found here, it’s only a matter of time until he’s disappointed by the reality.
“Cas,” he begins, and he doesn’t know what to say. How to tell him that he’s got Dean all wrong.
“Can I…?” Cas looks at his face like he’s memorizing it. He looks at Dean's lips, tips his head, opens and closes his mouth as if he doesn’t quite know what to ask.
Dean nods without thinking, because as much as he needs Cas to understand, he doesn’t want to miss this. Not this. Even if it never happens again, even if Cas realizes, as he’s bound to, that Dean isn’t really all that.
He finds it hard to breathe as Cas moves closer, incrementally, as if Dean’s some animal that might spook and run. But he’s too much of a coward to run now. Not when he’s this close.
Cas stops just shy of Dean’s mouth, breath warm and even on Dean’s lips. Dean closes the gap slowly, so slowly. Savors every breath they share, and then the electric touch of Cas’s mouth against his.
Cas isn’t hesitant when they meet. He’s slow. Careful. As if he, too, isn’t sure this will ever happen again. But it’s immediately clear that he knows what he wants. Dean follows when he thought he’d lead, and Cas sets a slow, exploratory pace, as if Dean’s mouth might taste different from one breath to another, one corner to the next. Cas touches him like he’s sacred somehow. Like there’s something special about him. And even though Dean knows it’s not true, he revels in it.
Cas moves back at the same pace he moved in. It feels like it takes hours for them to part. Cas’s hand burns against Dean’s cheek. “Thank you,” he says softly.
Dean smiles. “No problem, man. Anytime.” He meets Cas’s eyes. It’s harder than it should be. “Anytime.”
Cas smiles slowly, slides his hand up and strokes his thumb up between Dean’s eyebrows, as if he can smooth away the lifetime of frustration that lives there.
Maybe he can. Nothing seems impossible in this moment.
Dean’s about to go in for another kiss when he hears rushed footsteps.
“The games begin in mere minutes,” Charlie announces. “Get your refills and meet us in the gameroom!”
Dean glares at her and she grins back. “He looks good, doesn’t he?” she asks jauntily before bouncing away.
“Meddler,” he calls after her.
She just waves over her shoulder.
Cas’s hands have fallen away and Dean wants to take one in his, but he’s not sure what this is yet. If he has that right. He grabs his glass from where it sits on the table beside him. “Refills?” he asks instead.
Cas smiles softly. “Yes.”
They avoid the long games and play a few rounds of exploding kittens. Dean sits too close and helps a very puzzled Cas with his cards, and it feels like a perfect fit. Easy. New. Promising.
He’s trying not to get his hopes up. There are a million reasons this could fail before it’s really begun.
“I think I’m going to step out for a few,” he tells Cas. “You okay?”
“Yes, of course.” Cas touches his arm and smiles and it feels like an out of body experience.
The air is crisp outside. Dean walks around to the side of the house and leans there, trying not to let his thoughts run away with him.
“Where are they?” he hears, a desperate sort of mumble. There’s a girl pacing in the shadows a few feet away.
“Hey,” he says softly, making sure not to get too close. “You okay?”
She looks up and smiles slowly. Suddenly the space he's left between them is more for him than her. Her smile shows an uncomfortable amount of teeth. Predatory. “Just waiting for some friends,” she purrs, stepping closer.
“Do you want to wait inside? It’s, ah, kinda cold out here.”
She steps closer. “Oh, I don’t think so. I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.” She slides her index finger down his chest and he shivers.
He’s thinking about ways to excuse himself when she looks over his shoulder and her eyes go bright and then eerily black. “Well, hello,” she says softly, and Dean backs away while she’s distracted.
“Dean." Cas's voice is deep and demanding. "Go inside.”
He turns to see Cas striding forward, past him, wild and furious. As Dean stumbles back, Cas grabs the girl by the throat and presses her against the side of the house and his wings—those costume wings—are spread wide, looking so real and terrifying that Dean forgets to breathe.
“Cas?”
Cas turns and his mouth is a grim line. His eyes are glowing a chilling blue. Dean stumbles back.
“Dean,” Cas demands. “Go back inside. Now.”
The girl is struggling and then she’s got something in her hand. Dean opens his mouth to warn Cas but everything is moving too fast, there's nothing he can do.
There’s a blinding light and she screams—light pours from her eyes and mouth and then she slumps into a heap of limbs. Dean wants to believe she’s unconscious, but he knows she’s not. There’s something about the way she lies there. She won’t move again, he knows it instinctively.
Dean is rooted to the spot. The scene is foreign like a dream, dark and disjointed like a nightmare. Startlingly physical—the bile that rises in his throat, the way he can feel his heart beat in his fingertips and temples. It’s like his childhood. Startlingly, horrifyingly real.
Dean tenses as something slides around his throat and something sharp prods him in the back.
“Angel,” a low voice croons against his ear. “If you don’t want to lose your pet, you’ll come quietly.”
Dean isn’t quite sure where his quiet, kindly roommate is, because the man in front of him is a hurricane. A force. The air shimmers with his fury, and Dean holds his breath.
“Harm him, and I will destroy you,” Cas says, stepping forward. It never occurs to Dean that he’s speaking anything but the absolute truth.
The man holding Dean hostage swears under his breath, and then Dean feels sharp, burn, wet and he’s falling and staring up at the sliver of sky between houses.
Everything goes very bright and blue and he wonders if that’s the light he’s supposed to go into—that’s how it works, right? And then Cas’s face looms over him and it’s the Cas he knows—kind and open and sad, and old. How had he never seen that before? How old, how tired, how full of regret and pain he always is. Dean wishes he could remember how to tell him it’s all right.
Dean wakes up on Cas’s bed, and he’s certainly thought about that possibility before, but under very different circumstances. He runs hands over himself frantically as he remembers that sharp, wet feeling, that ripping pain and that sense of falling. And shit. All that light and that girl’s body and he definitely isn’t in Kansas anymore.
Cas looks up at him and smiles cautiously, as if he’s not sure of his reception. “Dean.” He stands and Dean scrambles back. Cas freezes. “I’m sorry, it’s okay. You’re safe.”
Dean swallows hard as he looks around. He feels strangely...fine. “You’re packing.”
Cas’s bag sits on the floor behind him, jeans trailing out of it. Looks like most of the three outfits he bought at Dean’s insistence, and Cas looks harried and overwhelmed and more like the Cas Dean knows, but he’s still got an aura of power around him, crackling and shimmering in the air.
“Yes,” Cas tells him, glancing at the bag. “I think it’s best. It was thoughtless of me to put you in danger like that. It was selfish. I wanted you to see me. To really see me, even if you didn’t know what it meant. And that nearly got you killed.” He shoves at the clothes as if they’re at fault.
“You’re just…leaving?” He doesn’t even know if he wants Cas to stay, he hasn’t had a chance to begin to understand what’s going on, but this sure as fuck seems like a copout.
Cas turns to him and stares. “I brought demons here, Dean. Surely you understand I can’t stay. If any of them got the word out, more will come here. They won’t stop until they have me. And they’ll kill anyone who gets in the way. Anyone I care about.”
“Demons. I’m sorry, demons?” He stiffens. “What the hell does that make you?”
Dean jumps as the door opens.
“All clear,” Charlie says as she shuts the door behind her. “Gilda said there were only the three around the house, and it doesn’t look like you have any hanging around here.”
Cas looks vaguely relieved and Dean looks between them. “What the actual fuck, Charlie?”
She hops up on the bed and hugs him, pressing him back down to the bed and using him as a pillow. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she says softly. “You really scared us, there.”
“What. The. Fuck. Happened.”
“Everything’s cool, now,” she says. “There were some demons checking the place out and they went for Castiel, here, but he, ah, took care of it. And healed you.”
“What does that even mean?” He glares at Cas but stays put as Charlie aggressively cuddles him. “What are you?”
Cas looks embarrassed. “I’m, um, an angel. Of the Lord.”
“An angel. Jesus.” He smacks Charlie’s arm. “You’re very fucking calm there, Charles. Did you know? About Cas?”
“Umm...kind of? I mean, not the angel part, but yeah. I knew he wasn’t, y’know, one of us.”
“How?”
She smacks his shoulder. “I’m part of a coven, Dean. We’re witches. You know that.”
“Wiccans, Charlie. You burn incense and dance around a fire when you LARP! None of that has anything to do with demons or angels or killing people with light and shit! None of that’s like…real!”
Charlie giggles nervously. “I mean...what’s real, really?”
“Charles.” He glares his betrayal.
She cringes up at him and shrugs. “Sorry?”
“So what, Cas here moves on and leaves you and me to...what, exactly? Are you leaving, too? How does this even work?”
“Wait, what?” Charlie sits up to look at Cas. “You’re leaving?” she says, affronted.
“It’s the best way to keep you all safe. I’m sorry that I brought this to your doorstep.”
“Nice try, halo boy. They didn’t come for you. They were sniffing around my house. You know. With the witches? And now they’ve all mysteriously disappeared. You know who’s going to get blamed for this, don’t you?”
Cas’s shoulders fall. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Us.”
“Charlie, I’m so sorry—”
“So, it seems like you better stick around and keep us safe, huh?”
Cas’s gaze slides over to where Dean’s pretending not to lose his mind.
“Yes,” Cas says finally. “That does seems best, considering the circumstances.”
She grins and nods. “Good.” She groans. “I’ve gotta get home, Row and Gilda need to know what’s going on and we have to check the wards. I think we’re clear, but just to be safe.” She gets up and pats Dean on the shoulder. “Seems like you two should talk. Call me, Dean-o.”
Dean nods weakly at her back and then settles back against the pillows. “So.”
Cas turns toward him. “Dean, I’m very sorry about all of this, I never meant to put anyone in danger. My family, sometimes the orders they gave... I had to leave, I just wanted to live in peace, to help where I could, to understand humanity better. If you want me to leave—”
Dean finally finds his voice. “Will you stop!” He takes a deep breath. “No, I don’t want you to leave.”
“Oh. Okay.” Cas looks like he’s not entirely sure what to do.
“I just want— ” He takes a deep breath. He wants to hear the whole story. He wants to understand. He wants to go back in time and ask a lot more questions—of Charlie and Cas and that priest in Pasadena and his father, who used to come home with weird stories and wounds that never quite made sense and stocked a lot of salt. Dean wants a lot of things.
He shakes his head. Time for the third degree later. He needs something normal right now. “Why don’t you unpack and I’ll make something—do you want a snack? I don’t even know if you...do you even like food?”
Cas smiles softly. “Yes, Dean. I’ve always enjoyed your cooking. Thank you.”
Dean nods decisively. “You got it. Then, maybe...you can tell me more about why you’re here and what you need and we can get to know each other again, huh?”
Cas’s smile is broad and his shoulders fall into something more relaxed. “I would like that very much.”
Dean’s stomach twists. Cas should terrify him. He should be the one packing and running and never looking back.
But he doesn’t want to run. He wants to know what’s real. In this world, this new world. With Cas. What of the past year was real. Cas, living here and working at the garage and kissing him at Charlie’s. That had felt real. Did angels kiss humans? He never went to Sunday school but he’s pretty sure that’s an off book use.
“Great,” he says finally. “I’ll see you in a few.”
Cas looks...grateful. “Yes,” he says. “You will.”