Archive of Our Own

THE PHANTOM KILLER STRIKES AGAIN!!!

April 5

Staff writer Alicia Banes

Early on the morning of April 3, authorities found a body on the corner of Price Street and Maple Avenue, at the east edge of Warlington’s downtown district. The body was identified as thirty-eight-year-old Asa Fox, a librarian at Korons Institute of Magic’s main library . The death was ruled a murder by the Warlington Police, and in a press conference, Sheriff Ketch stated that Mr. Fox’s murder followed the Phantom Killer’s modus operandi, and that Mr. Fox is unable to do magic.

With the Phantom Killer’s seventh victim claimed, and all victims being related to the institute, Sheriff Ketch cautions all traveling through the institute’s campus, especially non-magic folk–”Do not walk alone, and try to spend as little time as possible outside at night. The entire staff of the police department is working as quickly as possible to–”

Dean stopped reading. “Yeah, they’ve been saying that for a month now.”

“Well, they don’t call him the Phantom Killer for nothing, Dean. He’s supposed to be, y’know, a phantom.” Cas peered at Dean over his textbook (The Magical Properties of Lesser Coned Flowers). “And I thought you’d sworn off reading the student newspaper.”

“I did, until someone else got murdered.” Dean sighed and set the newspaper down on their kitchen table. “I liked Mr. Fox. He didn’t report me for slicing a book in half when I had a mishap with my scimitar.”

“I still can’t figure out why you had a scimitar in the library.”

“We go to a magical university, Cas. People bring curses into the library.”

In many ways (well, if one ignored the bloody murder), this was just another morning for Dean and Cas. They were both in their fourth and final year at Korons Institute of Magic, although they were part of a handful of students who didn’t have any magical abilities. Cas was studying herbalism (hence the lesser coned flowers), while Dean had his sights set on smithing (hence the scimitar). In one short month, they would graduate and go out into the real world. In the meantime, though, they were here, crammed into the tiny apartment on the outskirts of campus that they had shared since the start of their second year, catching up on reading and having toast before heading in for their first classes.

“Do you ever worry about the killer?” Dean asked suddenly, and Cas looked up from his book again.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, he only goes after those who can’t do magic, and he slices ‘em all up, from sternum down through their belly. That’s gotta be a painful way to go, and this guy sounds like he doesn’t care.”

“The Phantom Killer could be a woman,” Cas pointed out.

“Either way, don’t you worry? Neither of us can do magic.”

“We’re always together,” Cas replied. “So I don’t have to worry.”

“Yuck.” Dean rolled his eyes, but there was a note of fondness there.

Their friendship had happened by accident. Cas was a shy first-year, reluctant to join any groups or make himself known on campus. People heard his name, Castiel Novak, and their first thought was Novak Industries, the number-one producer of magic-amplifying machines, which Cas’s parents ran.

Their second thought was that Cas was the only member of the Novak family who couldn’t do magic. Everyone else with his last name had roles in the business, from his oldest brother Luke as the chair of Novak Industries’ board to his cousin Raphael, who was two years younger than Cas but already a supervisor.

Meanwhile, Cas was going to be an herbalist. His lack of magical ability had shut him out from the family fortune, but based on the public’s perception of the Novaks, that was probably for the best.

Dean, on the other hand, was boisterous. Not only was he non-magic, he came from a family that lived life almost entirely on “normal” terms. His mom was a homemaker, his father a mechanic, and Dean and his younger brother Sam were the first people on their entire family tree to go to college.

(Sam was a defense lawyer).

On scholarship at Korons and sporting a chip on his shoulder because of his area of study and background, Dean had practically bullied Cas into coming to a meeting of a group of non-magic students, which was where they had met their rag-tag group of friends, but most importantly, at least to Cas, each other. He liked to think that they balanced each other out. Dean was the loud and proud one, and Cas tempered him.

Well, he tried to, and on occasion, it worked.

“Okay, coneflower time is done,” Dean said suddenly. “If we don’t leave in the next ten minutes, we’ll be late to class.”

“As if you’ve ever cared about being late,” Cas replied, but he shut his book nonetheless.

“Professor Mosely told me that if I’m late to her advanced metallurgy lab one more time, she’s gonna call my parents.”

“And your dad–”

Dean shook his head. “Dad could care less about that. Mom, on the other hand, will drive here and try to kill me, and I really don’t need to deal with that right now.”

They usually walked from their apartment to campus, since it only took about ten minutes, but recently, the trip had been lengthened. All of the entrances to the Korons Institute had guards now, equipped with both guns and wands, to defeat whomever they needed to in whatever manner necessary, and there was a fair deal of waiting in line to get checked.

(The scanners were, of course, made by Novak Industries. Even when they barely spoke to him, it was impossible to escape his family.)

“Do you think,” Dean asked as he and Cas waited to go through the line, “They have all these guards at night?”

“Didn’t you listen to Sheriff Ketch’s last press conference? There’s a twenty-four hour rotation–”

“I didn’t, but my mom did. She’s six hours away, what help is that?”

“I don’t think she was listening to Sheriff Ketch, Dean.”

“What? Oh. Gross, Cas.”

In some ways, Cas reflected, they’d grown up a lot in the nearly four years at Korons, but in other ways, they were still the goofy eighteen-year-olds they’d been when they’d met, despite Dean having recently turned twenty-two and Cas on the cusp of his birthday.

They made it through the actual scanners without incident (Cas wasn’t sure how dangerous his flower samples were for his mint lab–yes, a class based entirely on the properties of the many varieties of mint, Cas’s personal favorite was chocolate mint–were). After that, it was into the hustle and bustle of campus, and it was time to say goodbye until lunch.

“Don’t get in another fight with Mitch Davies about wormswort,” Dean said warningly.

“It’s not a fight if I’m right, Dean. It’s a lot more poisonous than he thinks it is.”

“Well, you don’t have to try and punch him over it–”

“He was going to poison me with it.”

“Okay, okay.” There was a fond smile playing on the corners of Dean’s mouth as he shoved one of Cas’s shoulders. “Have fun. See you at lunch.”

“You too.”

The morning’s classes were fairly easy for Cas. The mint lab was a lot of carefully dissecting leaves and looking at them under microscopes, which was tedious work but easy to zero in and concentrate on, and then he had a lecture about the aforementioned lesser coneflowers.

What he was really looking forward to, though, was lunch. Every day, a little after noon, his friend group would gather together in the Korons Commons for lunch (and, if they were lucky, a little bit of a show–the commons was one of the places that people would often duel, and it tended to be over little things, like a stolen pen or a date to formal). Charlie couldn’t use magic but had figured out a way to trap it in her computer, and she had fashioned her own major out of that accomplishment. Meg was pursuing costumery, which was a new program back in their first year, and they had brought a few of the younger students under their wings at the start of the year, such as Jo (combat and swordsmanship) and Aaron (undecided, but leaning towards herbalism).

“We’ve got a good one today,” Meg said as Cas sat down at their usual table. “Delaney hates that Alicia got to write the front-page article in the student newspaper about the Phantom Killer, and she made a pretty scathing post online.”

“Alicia’s brother Max is dueling Delaney in five minutes,” Jo added.

“So we got here just in time?” Dean asked. He had met Cas outside of the herbalism building, Levar Hall, and they had walked to the commons together, like they did every day. While Cas enjoyed spending time with their friends, it was nice to have some time to chat with just Dean.

“As always.” Charlie scooted over so that Dean and Cas could sit down, and they settled in for the action. Delaney and Alicia’d had an ongoing feud since their first year at Korons, when Delaney became a full-time staff writer for the institute’s newspaper before Alicia, and it had only gotten worse. Of course, duels were (mostly) harmless, and Max was likely only being his sister’s proxy so he could show off his skills. He was a pyromancer, working with fire, and he’d recently learned how to make dragons out of fire. By the end of the duel, Max had thoroughly humiliated Delaney, part of the quad was on fire, and everyone had returned to their lunches as if nothing had happened.

Just another day at the Korons Institute.

The rest of Cas’s classes were fairly normal, and he was relieved. Every time there was a new victim killed at the hands of the Phantom Killer. It made Cas anxious, and the skin under his palms a bit scratchy, like there was some kind of invisible energy there. It was probably just the nerves, wondering if, as a non-magical person, the next time he turned a corner, he would see the cloaked figure and be facing being sliced down the middle like all the other victims.

Cas typically got out of his classes before Dean, so he would usually work on his homework in the library or, since the weather was nice, in the quad. There were still some smoldering remains of the duel at lunch, but Cas ignored the students goofing off around them and went to sit on a bench, flipping open one of his textbooks.

The decision to study herbology had, in many ways, been an act of rebellion. Because his family didn’t really care about Cas, seeing as he couldn’t do magic, they didn’t feel anything in particular about his admission to Korons. While the institute had started letting in non-magical students about ten years ago, it was still harder for those students to get in, and Cas had spent weeks on his application. It was his only shot out, unless he went to normal university, and he didn’t want to do that. Of course, a normal university would have been fine, but getting into Korons when he didn’t even have any abilities felt a bit like he was sticking it to his family.

(Not that they noticed.)

And herbology? The rest of the Novak family was laser-focused on monetary success, regardless of how it was achieved, and Cas never wanted to be like that. If he took up a career with a focus on healing people and helping them, he could set himself apart and hopefully prove that at least one of the Novaks cared about more than money.

For now, though, he needed to focus on convincing his professors that he was ready to graduate so that he could grab that future he wanted, and he focused on his books until Dean appeared.

Getting out of campus was much easier than getting in–they weren’t scanned as they left, since apparently it didn’t matter if they took anything dangerous as long as they didn’t bring it in. Once they were back at their apartment, it was time for another normal night for them. Cas would actually do his homework, Dean would attempt to and then give up to make dinner. He was a jack-hand at cooking (he said that his mom had taught him), although sometimes he made Cas’s favorite boxed mac-n-cheese, and tonight chicken soup was on the menu. The smells of the different herbs were easy for Cas to pick out, because he was familiar with them from his classes.

It was a comforting environment, but, as always, it made Cas consider the future, once they graduated from Korons. He hoped that Dean would want to stay close by, but there was nothing tying the two of them together, nothing guaranteeing that Dean would stay, would want to stay. Sure, they were happy, but they were young, and Cas, well–

Well, he’d never had a best friend, or any friends, really, before coming to Korons. Dean, he knew, had a lot of friends from his normal high school, because he’d met some of them. They’d all gone to normal universities or into the workforce, and had been fascinated by Korons and by the weapons that Dean had smithed.

(Dean was quite talented, so it was understandable that they were fascinated. Cas didn’t always find weapons beautiful, but a sword of Dean’s…)

And after their normal dinner, it was time for bed, and that was that. Cas turned the lights out and got in bed, with the blinds cracked slightly so that the moonlight could seep in and the door open, like always, and he shut his eyes, ready for another day.

Cas couldn’t say why he woke up in the middle of the night–probably because he was thirsty. The apartment was completely silent, and his bed was warm, and for a moment, he considered staying in bed. His thirst overtook him, though, and he pushed the blankets away.

His footsteps were nearly silent, and it was strange to feel the apartment this quiet. It felt like it must have been empty, what with the complete lack of noise, but Cas knew that Dean was safely asleep in the next room, probably having already kicked half of the blankets off of his bed because he was not a calm sleeper, and that made him feel markedly less alone.

Cas got a glass of water from the sink and drank it slowly, watching the numbers on the oven clock change from 1:34 to 1:35 to 1:36. Finally, the glass was empty, and he set it in the sink and turned back to his room.

That was when he heard it.

In the silent apartment, he probably could have heard a pin drop, which made footsteps even stranger. It could have been Dean, but Dean hadn’t gone to sleep with shoes on, and Cas knew his footsteps, knew that they weren’t so heavy.

It was probably nothing, but…

Cas switched courses to Dean’s room.

The short walk down the hallway was familiar, everyday, but now it felt strange and eternal, and he knew, just inherently, that something was wrong.

And when he pushed open Dean’s bedroom door, he saw why he felt this way, because standing in front of Dean’s bed was a figure in a long, dark cloak.

The Phantom Killer.

Cas was frozen with horror, and for a second, the whole world stopped. There was no sound, just the Phantom Killer with his head turned towards Cas but his knife still held over Dean’s sternum. The knife looked different than Cas expected, shorter, he’d imagined a long blade to make such an enormous slice down the victims’ bodies, but there it was–

The moment unfroze, and the cloaked figure raised the knife as if to plunge it into Dean’s chest. Cas wasn’t thinking anymore; he was too filled with panic, fear that he wouldn’t be able to do anything, that Dean was going to–

The word wouldn’t cross the threshold of Cas’s mind, and a moment later, as if his body was moving on its own while his brain was still frozen to the spot, he had thrown himself at the Phantom Killer. It was a terrible idea, ridiculously bad, dangerous, but he couldn’t stop, and then his hands were grasping the figure’s cloak.

There was a flash of blinding light, and Cas was dimly aware that it was coming from him. His head throbbed, and he couldn’t see anything, could only hear screaming, Dean screaming, and he struggled to grab onto something. His hands felt like they’d been burned, and he couldn’t get a hold, and Dean was hurt, and–

“Cas?”

Cas blinked his eyes open, slowly trying to adjust to the light. The room had been dark, hadn’t it?

“Cas? C’mon, wake up.”

That was Dean’s voice.

But Dean was–

Cas struggled to open his eyes completely and peered at Dean, the light making his head hurt. “Dean?” he croaked.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Dean’s hands were on Cas’s shoulders, and he helped Cas sit up. They were still in Dean’s room, the only evidence that the Phantom Killer had been there the window opened, and Dean’s shirt, singed through at the shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Cas asked, reaching out to tug at Dean’s shirt. “Did I do that?”

“Yeah, but…” Dean cleared his throat. “It was an accident. What happened?”

“I don’t know.” Cas let go of Dean’s shirt and looked at his hands. “I just saw the Phantom Killer, and something…broke.”

“I think you saved my life.” Dean’s voice was quiet, tone far more reverent than usual.

“And you’re sure I didn’t hurt you?”

“Well…” Dean carefully pulled back his t-shirt. “This one’s done for, and my shoulder–” There was an angry red handprint on Dean’s shoulder, raised up from the skin. “It doesn’t really hurt, don’t worry. You were blindly grabbing at stuff after the Phantom Killer left, and I was one of the things that you grabbed at.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ll take this over getting sliced open with a giant knife.”

They were both silent for a moment, the stress of seeing the Phantom Killer still lingering, and then Dean spoke again.

“Do you think he’s gone?”

“Yeah.” Cas swallowed. He wasn’t sure how he was going to go back to sleep, high on adrenaline from confronting the killer and whatever had come out of his fingertips.

He wasn’t sure what it was, and he wasn’t sure if he liked it.

“I’m going back to bed,” Dean finally said. “I’ll–yeah. I’ll take the couch. I don’t feel like sleeping in my room.”

“You could sleep in my bed,” Cas said in a rush. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was loath to be alone after the attack. The image was still running through his mind, the minutes-ago memory of the Phantom Killer with his knife suspended over Dean’s prone body still etched there.

“I–” Dean looked at him, gaze inscrutable, before nodding. “If that’s alright with you.”

“I offered.”

Cas’s bed was full-sized, so there was plenty of room for both of them to sleep comfortably, but instead of spreading out on one side of the bed, Dean moved in close, close enough for Cas to feel his breath. Close enough for Cas to want to reach out and take those hands so close to his.

It was Dean who made the first move, throwing one arm over Cas’s waist as he shifted. The blankets over them formed a warm, comforting bubble, and when Dean spoke, it was in a low whisper.

“How long have you known you could do that?” he asked.

“I…I didn’t know I could do it.” Cas swallowed again. His throat felt thick and dry.

“Seriously?”

Cas nodded, and his forehead brushed against Dean’s. “I’ve never been able to do magic.”

“Until now?”

“I guess so. Maybe I needed a…catalyst or something.” Dean almost dying, almost being murdered, seemed as good of a catalyst as any in Cas’s mind. He couldn’t imagine being without Dean, had been trying to avoid the thought with graduation coming up. Their lives had molded themselves together, without even trying, and now it was unfathomable to think that one day he would wake up and Dean wouldn’t be sleeping in the next room over or standing at the stove, cooking them both bacon.

“You saved me,” Dean said, his whisper somehow even softer.

“I had to,” Cas replied. There was no other truth.

Later, Cas would wonder if this moment was simply a figment of his imagination, if either he or Dean had really been there. Dean tipped his chin slightly, and their lips brushed together. It was the barest touch, the ghost of a kiss, but it made Cas’s chest feel tight and constricted. He had been inches away from losing his best friend.

Dean did not nose in closer, did not press their lips together properly, instead dropping his head to his pillow and tightening his arm around Cas’s waist. A few minutes later, his breathing was even and regular, leaving Cas awake with his thoughts and dozens of questions that couldn’t be answered.

When Cas awoke, his bed was empty.

There was a slight impression in the space beside him, some feeling of misplaced warmth, as if Dean had left not that long ago. Cas’s first thought, after the Phantom Killer’s visit the night before, was to panic, to throw the covers aside and leave his room in search of Dean.

The entire apartment was empty–Dean’s room, the living room, the bathroom, and the kitchen. In the kitchen, Cas found a half-full pot of coffee and all of the things for toast, including a plate and a knife, set out. Next to the plate was a note that read in Dean’s scrawl, headed to campus.

They always walked to campus together.

Cas couldn't shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong, and after the attack, he wasn’t taking his chances. He took out his cell phone and called Dean. It rang all the way through before going to Dean’s voicemail box. Cas knew that Dean never checked it, so instead of leaving a message, he texted Dean: everything alright?

Cas’s entire morning felt sluggish. He could barely focus in his classes, exhausted from the night before and worried about Dean. He didn’t even bother taking notes. Cas was especially out of it in his Advanced Medicinal Herbs course. He couldn’t find it in himself to open any of his textbooks, his mind elsewhere. Knowing about the usage of calendula or St. John’s wort wasn’t important to him at this moment, and he propped himself up on his stack of books, staring out into the classroom but not actually hearing his professor speaking.

He couldn’t help but ponder about what had happened last night. He had never heard of the kind of magic that had come out of his own hands, of bolts of energy that could fell someone. Whoever the Phantom Killer was, they were clearly a strong magician, because they had resisted, but Cas also didn’t have any control over what had happened. He had no idea if he could do it again, how he could control it. Before he could think too hard about it and accidentally zap someone, he stopped his train of thought, but he could still feel some kind of weird energy dancing underneath his skin, right at his fingertips, pushing to get out. It had never been there before, and he had no idea how he could explain it or quantify it, or what it was supposed to mean.

What he did know was that it meant, for some reason, that Dean was shutting him out with no explanation, and that he was alone, and that was why he was here with just his stack of books and his thoughts to keep him company instead of his best friend. Because if Dean was speaking to him, Cas would have someone to talk to about this, someone to parse it with. And he didn’t.

And it was terrible.

When noon hit, Cas hoped against all hope to see Dean standing outside the building to walk him to lunch, ready to explain that he’d just gone to report the attack or remembered something he’d forgotten for class.

Cas’s hopes were in vain, because Dean wasn’t there.

He wasn’t in the commons, either, but the rest of their friends were there. “Where’s Dean?” Meg asked when Cas sat down, and Cas shrugged. “Did you guys get in a fight?”

“I don’t think so?” Cas had intended to act like everything was fine until he’d figured out where Dean went, but he couldn’t help it, and the truth spilled out of him. “The Phantom Killer came to our apartment last night and–”

“Wait, stop,” Aaron said. “The Phantom Killer visited you? Right on the edge of campus?”

“Yes.” Cas swallowed. “He did. And he was going to kill Dean, but I saved him–”

“How’d you beat the killer?” Meg asked, “With a marigold flower?”

“As it turns out…” Cas stared at his hands. “I can do magic.”

“You can what?!” Charlie exploded.

“It’s news to me, too! Anyways, we make sure everything’s safe and go to bed in my room, because you know, serial killer broke into Dean’s, but when I woke up this morning, he was gone, and he won’t answer my texts, and–”

“Cas,” Meg said slowly, “Do you think that this might have something to do with your newfound ability? I mean, what is it?”

“I think I shot lightning out of my hands?”

“Oh my god.” Meg shook her head. “Dean is probably fine, Cas. He just doesn’t know how to…you know he talks a good game about being fine with being non-magical, but at the end of the day, it bothers him. It probably made him upset that his best friend can do magic now, even if you discovered it by saving his life.”

“But,” Cas protested, “Why won’t he talk to me? It’s not like I did anything wrong–”

“You didn’t,” Charlie said soothingly, “But Dean is in the middle of beating himself up about it. Just give him some time, and he’ll come around.”

“Right.” Cas stared at the table despondently. It wasn’t right, wasn’t the same without Dean’s constant jokes and laughter, their shoulders pressed together as they sat at the table.

Cas decided it right then and there: he hated magic.

It was weird to walk back to the apartment by himself at the end of the day, and weirder still when it was empty again. Cas had no desire to make dinner for one or watch television by himself, so he retreated to his room, piling his textbooks atop his desk to get started on his homework. He was going to have to work extra to get caught back up after his absent-mindedness today.

He didn’t know what to do. If the circumstances were different, Dean would be bursting into his room to cheer him up, but instead there was just utter silence, so Cas did something he never thought he would do: he picked up his phone and called his brother.

Cas barely spoke to his family–after he had reached the age of fifteen and it seemed as if his magical abilities would never appear, they had started to shun him, going so far as to forget him on the way to vacations, never pick him up from activities at school, or ask him to eat dinner in his room so that they could discuss the business over dinner. The Novak mansion was, Cas had discovered, an easy place to get lost in, and for the three years until he could head to college, he got lost, went in so far that they might never find him.

He hadn’t spoken to them since going to Korons.

Luke Novak picked up on the first ring and practically shouted into the phone, “Cas?”

“Hi, Luke.” Cas braced himself for some barrage of thinly veiled insults, but none came. “I wouldn’t be calling, but I don’t know who else to talk to.”

“What’s happened?” Luke sounded…worried, which had never happened to Cas before. No one in his family worried about him.

“My roommate and I got a visit from the Phantom Killer last night.”

Luke gasped. “We were wondering if you would be attacked! Mother–”

“Mother was concerned for me?” Cas let out a bitter laugh. “That’s funny. Look, that’s not exactly why I was calling. Both of us are fine, but it’s only because I used magic.”

“Well, that’s ridiculous. You can’t use magic.”

“Apparently, I can.”

“I’ll have to see it for myself.”

“Fat chance of that happening.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, as if Luke was considering something. “You could always come to dinner tonight. You know we have a new apparatus that helps hone magical powers. It’s still being beta tested–”

“You want to use me as a guinea pig.”

“For your own good, Castiel!” Luke, and the rest of his family, never referred to him by his nickname. “If you do have abilities, you need to learn how to use them. You’re behind the curve, and to switch career paths you’ll need to–”

“Woah,” Cas interrupted him, “Who said anything about switching career paths?”

“Well, if you have abilities, you won’t need to be an herbalist.”

“What if I want to be an herbalist?”

Luke scoffed. “We’ll talk about it over dinner. Six o’clock, sharp.”

“I never said I was–” The line went dead before Cas could finish his sentence. “Coming,” he finished to himself lamely. The apartment was still completely silent, and his phone told him there was an hour before he even needed to think about leaving for the Novak mansion, so he turned back to his textbooks.

About thirty minutes later, the apartment’s front door slammed, and then Dean’s bedroom door. Cas considered going to knock on it, but he knew Dean, and if the doors were slamming, he was still unhappy.

Cas just wished he could help.

Finally, when he had to leave or risk being late (and therefore risk ridicule), he stood outside Dean’s door and knocked on it tentatively. “Dean?”

No response.

“I’m, uh, going to my parent’s house. For dinner. I’m going to stay for as short of a time as I can.”

Still no response.

“Please be careful,” Cas said, his voice coming out as an unintentional whisper. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.” He waited for a few more minutes outside the door, but when there was no reply, he finally resigned himself to walking to the bus stop.

If he was going anywhere farther away than downtown or campus, Cas would typically hitch a ride with Dean. Dean’s car was a 1967 Chevy Impala that still ran like a dream (and sometimes made Cas question if, in fact, no one in Dean’s family could do magic) and had a trunk full of Dean’s hand-smithed weapons. If Dean was taking him to dinner, they would both poke fun at his parents and siblings on the way there, laughing at his mother Naomi’s pinched expression in a recent press conference or his sister Anna’s latest foray into marketing.

But there was no Dean.

The wait at the bus stop was long. It was unusually chilly for April, and Cas hadn’t brought his coat. All alone he felt marooned, and the feeling didn’t improve once he was actually on the bus. As he watched houses and businesses rush by, he wished, once again, that Dean was here next to him, although circumstances would be much different.

Eventually, the bus made it to the stop nearest the mansion. Cas was the only passenger to get off, and in the rich neighborhood, he felt out of place walking down the sidewalk. The houses he walked past could barely even be called houses, especially since they all had sweeping lawns, enormous driveways, and bright, clean exteriors.

The last time Cas had been at the mansion, it was winter break of his first year at the Korons Institute. He’d been staying in a dorm at the time, and he wasn’t allowed to spend break there. It had been a profoundly unhappy time, a period of six weeks where he was trapped with his parents and siblings (all of whom wasted no time in ignoring him), but curiously it had brought him and Dean closer together. During those six weeks Dean had talked to him every day, making him laugh when he felt like crying.

Well, he felt like crying right now, but Dean wasn’t here to make him smile.

Cas wished there was a way to make Dean listen, to explain to him that he didn’t care if Dean couldn't do magic, that he himself didn’t want to be able to do magic? He wanted to tell Dean that he had been terrified to see Dean threatened, on the verge of death at the hand of the Phantom Killer.

(He wanted to tell Dean that he felt alone, that it had only been a day but he couldn't bear the space, that he couldn’t understand why Dean would kiss him and then go silent.)

The mansion loomed above him, just as blank and imposing as it had been two and half years ago. It formed the same gnawing pit in his gut.

Before he had the chance to climb the stairs and knock on the gleaming front door, it swung open to reveal his sister.

Anna was four years younger than Cas, and the last time he had seen her, she had been about fifteen years old. She was eighteen now, and it showed. She was taller, her hair long and shiny. The last Cas had heard on the news, she had taken up a supervisor position within Novak Industries.

(Because, Cas thought, why not put a teenager in charge?)

“Castiel,” Anna said, the tone of her voice was inscrutable.

“Anna,” Cas replied, trying not to look uneasy. Anna looked elegant, and he knew his family would lay into him immediately for his clothes–without the Novak riches, he often wore ratty jeans and sweatshirts.

(And today, he realized, his sweatshirt actually belonged to Dean.)

“Come inside,” Anna said. She was still hard to decipher, difficult for Cas to understand, but she didn’t sound like she hated him like she had when she was fifteen, every word dripping with teenage bile.

It was strange.

The front entryway also looked exactly like he imagined, tall ceilings and a massive staircase, all predicated by shiny black tile. He felt like a vagabond, like a kid someone had pulled in from the street. Anna was wearing a pantsuit, and he looked like he’d just tried to rob a video store.

(If Dean was here, he would laugh at that joke. Although Cas hoped that, for Dean’s sake, Dean would never have to even think about stepping foot in the Novak mansion. It would be terrible.)

Naomi and Charles Novak loved to tell a certain story about Novak Industries: they would tell people that it was started from the ground up, that they both worked hard to provide for years to “provide for their families.” Naomi’s ghost-written memoir even included a chapter on being a maid when the oldest Novak child, Luke, was a baby.

That was, of course, a complete fabrication. Naomi had never cleaned a thing in her life, and Luke had always lived in a spacious house, although the mansion had been purchased and renovated right before Cas was born. The truth was that Charles Novak had once been known as Chuck Shurley, a man whose parents had both died and left him a fortune, and he’d once had a best friend who was an inventor and suddenly passed away as well, and Chuck changed his name, took the money and inventions, and ran.

The media hadn’t figured that out in the twenty-five years that Novak Industries had been around, but if they ever did, it would be a complete frenzy and destroy the family’s reputation.

(After that one dreadful winter break, Cas had been tempted to do it himself.)

“Everyone else is already in the dining room,” Anna said. “It’s nice to have you here.”

“Is it?” Cas raised an eyebrow. “Because the last I checked–”

“You can do magic now, Luke says.”

Oh, right. That was what Cas could offer the family. This wasn’t about him. It was about making money, being able to proudly claim that every child had powers.

Cas followed his sister into the dining room, which had the same highly polished floors as the entryway and a long black table in the center. Before he reached fifteen, he’d been forced to sit at this table for every single meal, completely silent while everyone else talked. Today, though, his parents and brothers (Luke and Michael) stopped and stared as he entered.

“Hey,” Cas said, waving awkwardly. “Long time, no see?”

More staring.

“Castiel, your clothes,” Naomi said, and there it was, what Cas knew she would focus on first. Not that he had managed to make it on his own or that he was a month away from a degree, that he didn’t need the family wealth to be successful. He was going to do good things, not chase after money and wealth. He had a home.

(Although with Dean freezing him out, it didn’t feel much like one.)

“Yes, I do like to wear clothes.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I do.” Cas noticed that the same place that had always been his was set–the one at the end of his siblings, with no one across from him, secluded from everyone else. It seemed that even now, with magic, he was still the black sheep of the family.

Well, it suited him.

“Once you start working for us,” Naomi said, “You’ll be able to have much better clothes to wear and not those rags.”

“I’m not gonna work for you.” Cas looked at her with a full-on scowl. He was twenty-one–they couldn’t ground him anymore or make him do anything.

“But of course you are! You’re a Novak–”

“Which didn’t seem to matter before my run-in with the Phantom Killer last night.” Cas looked around at his family. “Aren’t any of you concerned that a notorious serial killer broke into my apartment and threatened Dean and I?”

“Oh. Dean.” Charles frowned. “I thought you had gotten over hanging out with him.”

“He’s my best friend. And my roommate.” Cas pushed away the hurt that came with referring to Dean in those terms when Dean wouldn’t even speak to him.

“And he’s non-magical. At Korons.”

“Well, there are lots of areas of study. He’s doing smithing, and I’m herbology–”

“Which won’t matter once you’re here.” Naomi spoke as if the matter was settled, and it took all of Cas’s self-control to not get up and leave right then and there. If he wanted answers, he was going to have to stick around for a little while longer.

He had gotten used to Dean’s cooking, and had forgotten that his family ate in courses instead of scarfing down pizza in front of re-runs of Two Broke Girls, so he settled in for a long, uncomfortable dinner on their too big, uncomfortable chairs.

The dinner conversation was mild, as it had always been. Cas wasn’t supposed to know about the business of the corporation, so there was never much to talk about in front of him, which was fine. He had never cared much for the work of Novak Industries, and now that he was a mere month away from having his degree in herbology and getting to pursue his own career, he cared even less. Eventually, though, it turned to him.

“So,” Charles said, “Tell us about these magic powers.”

“So-called,” Michael pointed out. “We haven’t seen any proof.”

“I believe him,” Luke interjected, which was unusual. He wasn’t known for sticking up for anyone, let alone Cas.

“I don’t really know how to explain it, to be honest,” Cas said. He wasn’t used to speaking at the table, and his throat felt tight, nervous. He also wasn’t used to being here at all. “It was like…lightning came out of my fingertips. It was blinding. It forced the Phantom Killer away, and burned Dean, so it must have been powerful.”

“Powerful.” Naomi suddenly seemed interested. “That’s good.”

“But a serial killer visiting my apartment and Dean getting hurt? Not good.”

“Don’t worry about that right now.” Naomi waved her hand, as if to wave the problems away. “This is an excellent opportunity for our new machinery to be tested–”

“Don’t worry about it?” Cas exploded. “Dean or I could have been killed, and you’re telling me not to worry about it?!”

“Dean can’t do magic,” Charles said. “If you’re going to work with the family–”

“I’m not going to work with the family. I want to be an herbalist. I’ve been studying herbology at Korons. I’m going to have a degree in a month. Doesn’t that mean anything to any of you?”

“Castiel.” Naomi was using that voice, the voice she had used when Cas became a teenager, when his family lost all hope of him demonstrating magical abilities, the voice that meant that he was in trouble. “You will not speak that way to me, or any of your elders. You are a Novak, and you are going to work for the company. If your powers are real, they are likely extremely powerful, and you will be a tremendous asset to the enterprise.”

For a moment, Cas cowered, and then he remembered that he was an adult now and he didn’t have to rely on his parents anymore. “It didn’t seem to matter to you that I was a Novak for the first twenty-one years of my life, so I can’t imagine it actually matters now. I don’t intend to be an asset to anyone. And I’m leaving, because I have homework to do.” He stood up and pushed his chair back from the table.

“Don’t you want to beta-test the new–” Luke started, but Cas cut him off.

“No, and I never did. Why don’t any of you listen?”

He had almost made it out the door of the mansion when he heard footsteps behind him, and he quickened his pace. He didn’t know what he would do if his mother grabbed his arm or tried to stop him, and he didn’t want to find out.

He didn’t want to hurt someone, even if it was her, even if it was on accident.

“Cas, wait!”

It was Anna.

And she had called him Cas. Not Castiel.

Cas stopped and turned to face her. “What?”

Anna looked genuinely pained. “Don’t leave. Stay and help. We could…we could use you. To add humanity to the company.”

“I’m sorry, Anna. I don’t want to work for our parents.” Cas looked down at his feet. “I wish you would understand why.”

Then he turned back towards the door, leaving his sister standing in the entryway, watching him leave.

Cas had hardly eaten anything at dinner, so as soon as he returned to his and Dean’s apartment, he made a beeline for the kitchen, and ran directly into Dean, who was standing in front of the fridge and eating Hot Pockets off of the pan. Dean took one look at him and turned to leave the room.

“Dean, wait,” Cas said, a note of pleading in his voice. He didn’t care that it was coming out.

“I hope you had a nice time with your family.” Dean’s voice sounded nasty, the word family hard and spit-out.

“They’re not–I didn’t. I left early.”

“Why’d you go at all, then?”

“Because I thought…” Cas dropped his head. He just wanted to say it in a way that would make Dean listen to him. “I thought they would help. But they only wanted me because I could–” He clenched his fist, a reflex, feeling the ghosts of sparks releasing from his fingers. “They didn’t want me. Not really. And they didn’t want to help. I left because they didn’t care. They think you’re expendable.”

“You don’t?”

“I–” Cas looked up at Dean again. “Why would I think that, Dean? You’re my best friend.”

“Your best friend who can’t do magic.”

“When has that ever mattered? I can’t do it–”

“You can now!” Dean exploded. “And one day you’ll see, Cas, you’ll see that staying here isn’t worth it, that it’s better to follow them than stick with me. You think it’s great here? I had to unplug and plug the oven back in twice to make it work–”

Cas cut across him, but his tone was flat. “If one of them died, I wouldn’t care. But the thought of someone hurting you….” He swallowed, the words stuck in higs throat. “I was scared, Dean, so scared. And then you shut me out.”

He’s not sure what happened. One second, there was a gulf between them, a kitchen separating them, Dean abandoning his Hot Pockets to keep hidden from him, and the next he’s being engulfed in strong arms and he feels a wet patch under his face and Cas realizes that he’s crying.

They didn’t speak for a few minutes, Dean just rubbing one hand reassuringly up and down Cas’s back in a long, slow motion, and slowly Cas felt like he could breathe again. He pulled away from Dean, wiping his face with the back of hand and sniffling.

“I was so scared,” Cas said, “And then you shut me out with no explanation. Meg said that maybe you were upset that I could do magic.”

“She’s…sort of right.” Dean looked wrong-footed and awkward. “I felt like maybe you wouldn’t want to be associated with me anymore. We met because we were both students at Korons without those abilities, and you come from a well-known magical family…And I know what they’re like. When you said you were going to dinner with them, it felt like that was it.”

“I called Luke earlier today because I didn’t have anyone else to call. I would have talked to you, but…” Cas shrugged. “I couldn’t.”

“But I’m not mad at you,” Dean said. “I was just really fucking bummed.”

“You sure did a good job of pretending to be mad.” Cas remembered his anxiety from all day, swirling in his gut, wondering if he was going to get to see him.

“But I wasn’t,” Dean said. “I…I wish I’d told you that instead of just retreating. I really do. I just didn’t know if you, if anyone would understand.”

“Of course I understand. And I meant it when I said I wish I didn’t have magic. It doesn’t even feel like I really do, I mean, I used it what, once?” And it was to save your life.

Those words, unspoken, hovered between them. Dean knew that it was true, but it almost felt too delicate to say aloud, to put into the middle of their darkened kitchen.

“M’sorry, Cas,” Dean finally said. “If you’d like to pretend I don’t exist for a day, you can.”

“I’m not gonna do that, Dean. Unless you don’t share the Hot Pockets.”

Dean smiled at him, and it was an uneasy smile, a wan smile, nothing like his usual grin, but for a moment, Cas thought everything might be okay.

The next day started like many others. For a moment upon waking, Cas was sure that Dean would be gone again, but to his great relief, Dean was standing in front of the coffeemaker when he arrived in the kitchen.

“Do you think it’s taking longer than usual to make the coffee?” Dean asked.

“I just got here.” Cas pulled open one of their cabinets and grabbed a box of cereal. “How’d you sleep?”

“Not great,” Dean said, glaring at the coffeemaker. “I kept feeling like the Phantom Killer was gonna come back.” He shuddered.

Cas could empathize with Dean’s situation; he’d had trouble drifting off into slumber as well. There were aids for that, magical medicines and remedies created by healing magicians and herbalists, but as a rule, Cas didn’t like to use them, even though he was going to be an herbalist himself. It felt too close to…

Well, too close.

There were also drinks that could aid in keeping one awake, but he and Dean stayed committed to coffee. Dean’d had coffee his whole life, growing up in a non-magical household, whereas Cas had been introduced to it and now had to drink it every morning or he’d get a headache.

(There were also remedies for that, but…)

“At least my classes should be pretty chill today,” Dean eventually said, interrupting himself with a yawn. “Our smelting lab got canceled because someone shattered their weapon all over the floor and the professor said it’s a ‘safety hazard.’”

“Was that someone…you?”

“For once, no.”

Slipping back into the teasing was easy, comforting, and Cas let himself relax and get into their normal routine. Eventually, the coffee was ready, and then there was the usual reading of the student newspaper and talking about who wrote what (today, Dean was complaining about Delaney’s attempt to retaliate against Alicia for getting front-page–an expose on whether cloaks should come back into fashion for magicians or not. Truthfully, Cas didn’t have an opinion). Before long, they were heading off to campus, through the checkpoint at the gate, and then to class.

Just another day for them.

When Dean met Cas at Levar Hall to head to lunch, though, things took a bit of a different route. “Let’s go to the library,” Dean said.

“What about lunch?” Cas asked. “Meg told me that there’s going to be another fight, we don’t want to–”

“I’ve got a better idea. It may be able to help us with the Phantom Killer.”

“You think we can research our way out of danger?”

“I think you can research and I can logic. C’mon.”

As they set off for the institute’s library, they didn’t quite touch hands, but the back of their fingers brushed, and Dean didn’t step away or put any space between them as he walked. He stayed close to Cas as ever, and it made Cas…wonder.

There was something there that was new, or maybe it was something that had always been there but Cas was just noticing it now. Perhaps he had managed to push it aside with studies, concerns about his family, fears for the future, what would happen in a month when they graduated from Korons and their easy routine was disrupted. Perhaps he had managed to push it aside and it had come back up the night before last, thanks to a shadowy figure with a knife.

Dean had kissed him, Cas was sure of that. And in all that they had spoken about last night, all the frustration and the misunderstandings, Dean had never said he regretted that. Cas would hold onto that, he decided. He would ask Dean about it.

Later.

When they got to the library, Dean brought Cas up to the fourth floor and then claimed one of the heavy oak tables in the corner. As Dean spread his books out across the table, Cas couldn’t help but think of Mr. Fox, who just a few days ago would have helped them grab books.

“This is what I was working on,” Dean said, “During lunch yesterday. And after classes got out. Based on what we know about the PHantom Killer, we might be able to glean something new. All of his victims have been no-magical people associated with Korons. He–or she–has killed students, professors, staff members…all without magic.”

“And that leads you to think…” Cas said.

“That the person behind the deaths can do magic, but their powers are either distinctive or well-known.” Dean flipped open one of his books. “I looked up some rarer magic styles, but came up empty, no magicians in years. Which leads me to someone well-known. Someone who’s spoken out about the institute allowing non-magical students and decided to take matters into their own hands.”

“The Phantom Killer is famous?” Cas said incredulously, and Dean shrugged. “That’s insane.”

“But do you think I’m wrong?”

Cas considered and then shook his head. He knew Dean, and Dean was good at puzzles and solving problems (when he wasn’t standing in his own way), and it was what made him so great at smithing. He just inherently knew how everything would fit together.

“Well, Cas said, “What do you think we should do now?”

“Research these people. I did some looking around online, found well-known magicians who have spoken out about–”

Cas snatched Dean’s notebook away from him. “Every member of my family is on this list.”

“Uh…yeah.”

“But none of them have said anything about…”

“Cas, they hate you. And now they’re pretending to care because you can do magic. Remember that lawsuit Novak Industries got last year about not hiring non-magical individuals?”

Cas swallowed. Dean was right–his childhood had been miserable, and Dean knew first-hand how seeing them affected him. But he couldn’t cast any of them as cold-hearted killers, even with his father’s shady past. They were money-hungry, but that hunger didn’t extend to blood.

(He hoped.)

“We, uh, might as well research them. You’re right.”

Dean pulled out his phone and began tapping away at the screen. “The MagiNet page for each of these people is probably the best place to start.”

“MagiNet?” The website was sort of like an online encyclopedia, which meant that anyone could add to it…and that the information was usually wrong. Although Cas was pretty sure that him not being mentioned on the page for his family was no accident. “That’s a joke.”

“Which is why,” Dean said, “It’s a great place to start. No one would think to look there. It’s like using…what’s the magical version of Instagram?”

“MagiGram. Owned by the same people as MagiNet.”

“It’s like starting there. Wow, they didn’t even try to be unique, huh?”

“Of course not.” Cas got his beat-up laptop out of his backpack to make searching easier. What he had discovered was that people often used magic as an excuse to be lazy or half-do something, and oftentimes doing it by hand was easier or more effective. In his house, there were never tools or cleaning supplies–there were spells and potions, but perhaps a wrench was better than a wand.

However, skipping Korons cafeteria sandwiches to get thirty minutes of research did practically nothing. There was no news about any of the famous people who were openly opposed to non-magical individuals at the institute doing anything (or being anywhere near the city), and even looking at articles about his family revealed nothing that Cas didn’t already know.

“Well, this was just a general search,” Dean said, trying to put on a brave face.

“I’m sure someone will catch the Phantom Killer,” Cas replied, trying to sound placating without being patronizing. This was just like Dean: jump into action to try and solve a problem that he had no hope of solving. Cas knew, at this point, that it was often better to just go along with what Dean was doing than try to stop him. If Dean Winchester could have figured out how to lasso the sun, he would have done it.

“And that someone could be us.” Dean stood up abruptly, grabbing his notebook. “C’mon, don’t wanna be late for class.”

Cas kept his sigh to himself and followed Dean out of the library.

When they got back to their apartment, Cas felt all sorts of strange and wrong-footed. He wondered if there was still more beneath the surface that Dean hadn’t divulged to him, other things that were upsetting him. He wondered if he was doing enough to make sure that Dean was happy, or at least comfortable.

(If Dean was just pretending to be okay.)

But things ended up being quiet but comfortable–Dean made mac-n-cheese and Cas helped by staying out of they way, and then without even having to discuss it first they started watching television. They weren’t speaking, but just being together was helping to assuage some of his concerns. They were alright, maybe. He just hoped that it wasn’t trying to track down the Phantom Killer that was keeping Dean stable and able to talk to him.

Cas’s phone seldom rang (he was almost always with Dean, the person who called him the most), so when it started jingling its ear-splitting ringtone, he quickly picked up, expecting it either to be a spam all or Luke.

It was Jo.

She had never called Cas, so he pressed the answer button immediately. As soon as the line picked up, he heard lots of voices and commotion. “Hey, Jo,” Cas said, “What’s up? At a party?”

“No, no, not at a party.” Jo was usually fairly self-assured and confident, but she sounded terrified.

“Jo, what’s wrong?” Cas asked. Dean’s gaze snapped to Cas, brow furrowed in concern.

“The police…the police are here. I—the Phantom Killer was in my dorm!”

“Oh my god.” Cas was beyond stunned. The inner walls of the Korons Institute were supposed to be impenetrable—there were guards at all hours, Sheriff Ketch had said.

“What?” Dean whispered at him, “What’s going on, Cas?”

Cas held the phone away from his face. “The Phantom Killer came to her dorm.”

“We gotta go get her,” Dean said, jumping up from the couch.

“Jo, Dean and I are coming to get you,” Cas said, already following Dean towards the door. “Okay?”

“You guys are speaking again?”

Cas realized that, since he and Dean had skipped lunch to go to the library, their friends had no idea that he and Dean had talked things (well, some things) out. “Yeah, we’re good. And you don’t need to worry about that right now, okay? Just stay safe until we get there.”

“Okay. You don’t have to do this.”

Cas glanced at Dean. “Yeah, we do. Hold tight.”

“How does she seem?” Dean asked after Cas hung up as they headed out of their apartment. They could have driven, but it seemed impractical, seeing as they lived so close and trying to drive onto campus was probably a nightmare right now.

“She seems shaken but okay,” Cas replied. She sounded a lot more balanced than Cas had felt when he had seen the Phantom Killer in his apartment, but also knew Jo and, once again, she would put on a brave front (it was likely why Dean was often protective of Jo—he saw himself in her, or, at least, Cas saw Dean in her).

“She’s tough,” Dean said.

When they got to the campus gates, instead of the typical pantheon of guards with a variety of safety devices, there was a pile of unconscious bodies.

“Are they alive?” Cas asked, stepping close to one of them and peering down.

Dean bent down and checked the pulse of the guard Cas was standing over. “I think so. I guess all the guards can do magic because otherwise they’d be dead, right?”

The thought was sobering—the guards were only safe by some cosmic, inexplicable luck of the draw. Scientists, some normal and some magical, had tried to discover the catalyst for someone having magical abilities and thus far, for decades, results had been inconclusive. Some believed it was genetic, others disagreed, but ultimately, Cas had learned, it didn’t matter how someone got their mail, just that they had it and someone else didn’t.

“Whaddya think?” Dean asked, standing back up. “Any particular signs of magic?”

Cas shook his head. “Any type of magic could have knocked them out.”

“So it doesn’t rule anyone out.” Dean’s shoulders sagged. Cas didn’t know what to say—he knew Dean wanted to figure out the Phantom Killer, but he didn’t think they could do it themselves. Unlike Sheriff Ketch, they didn’t have access to interviews and crime scene photos, or the victims to study on a slab.

(Well, Cas was glad about that. He couldn’t imagine seeing Mr. Fox, or any of the other victims, on an autopsy table. Or Dean.)

“Let’s focus on Jo right now,” Cas said, instinctively reaching out to grab Dean’s wrist. There was a moment where he hesitated, but Dean didn’t step away, instead shifting his hand so that Cas would take it, instead.

They walked that way to Jo’s dorm, neither of them speaking. Cas had obviously never been much for magic, but it was like there was a spell at play here, descending over both of them and creating some semblance of calm during a time of panic.

Once they got to her dorm, though, the spell broke, and Dean dropped Cas’s hand. The place was swarming with cops, but Cas quickly spotted Jo. She was talking to a police officer who had a notepad and was carefully writing down everything she was saying. It looked like she had rushed out of her room with whatever she could grab after the attack, which meant she was still wearing her pajamas and holding only her backpack.

“She seems okay,” Dean muttered, “But we’ll have to ask her to really find out.”

The second Jo spotted Dean and Cas, she broke away from the officer interviewing her. He tried to protest, but Cas knew that stopping Jo Harvelle was almost impossible. He’d only known her for less than a year, but she was the kind of person who didn’t let other people get in her way.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said by way of greeting, “Before I get interviewed for the fifth time.”

“What happened?” Cas asked as they turned away from the dorm and started walking back to the gates.

“It’s all kind of a blur, really,” Jo replied. “One minute I’m staying up too late convincing Cynthia to watch Say Yes to the Dress, because apparently magical TV is boring as hell, and the next there’s a scream coming from the hallway.”

“Did you see anything?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, when Cynthia and I stuck our heads out our door to see what was going on, we saw a tall, shadowy figure running down the hall. The police said the girl who screamed probably lived only because of that scream. Apparently part of the Phantom Killer’s profile is that he doesn’t like witnesses.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t either if I was trying to keep my identity a secret so I could murder people.”

“I just don’t understand how he–oh.” They had arrived at the gate, which meant that Jo was seeing the pile of unconscious guards for the first time.

“They’re not dead,” Cas said quietly. “We checked.”

“That must be how he got in, though.” Jo walked through the gate and stepped gingerly around the guards. “What’s next, a gate with teeth?”

“Let’s get outta here,” Dean said.

They walked briskly and silently back to the apartment, the streets eerily quiet. Cas could practically see Alicia’s headline about a campus invasion, and it made him shudder. There would probably be a duel over it, but it just seemed silly to him at this point. A student could have died on campus.

“Look,” Dean said when they got to their apartment, “You take my bed. Our couch is really lumpy.”

“Are you sure?” Jo asked “Where will you sleep?”

Dean glanced sideleong at Cas. “I can bunk with Cas, we’ve done it before.” Cas nodded in agreement, although his heart clenched. He and Dean had been together all day and had only worked things out less than twenty-four hours ago.

(And there was the kiss.)

“Alright,” Jo said, “If you’re sure.”

They got her set up with pillows and blankets in Dean’s room, and then headed to Cas’s. They went about the motions of getting ready for bed in silence, but instead of the easy silence of earlier, where Cas felt like everything was okay and he could handle what was going on, this silence felt tense and uneasy. He wanted to ask Dean if everything was alright, wanted to poke and prod, but he wasn’t sure how, and it was easier, perhaps, to say nothing, to play all of his cards close to his chest for now.

The mattress sagged with the weight of both of their bodies, and there was a moment where they were both trying to get comfortable, shifting around on the sheets, before Dean scooted himself closer to Cas under the quilt and threw an arm around Cas’s waist, pulling him in. Cas felt his breath catch at the proximity, but he didn’t push away. He wanted to be close, liked being able to feel Dean’s heartbeat, but he also felt like now was the time that he had to speak. He couldn’t avoid the questions present in his heart any longer.

“Are we gonna talk about it?” Cas whispered into the silence between them.

“Talk about what?” Dean asked, but Cas knew that he knew.

“Dean.”

“Cas, I can’t talk about it. Not right now.”

“Then why do it?” It was difficult for Cas to talk about this with Dean’s arm snaked around his waist. It felt like a massive mixed signal.

“Because I was scared.” Dean’s swallow was audible.

“And you’re not scared now?”

“I’m scared in a different way.” Dean’s arm tightened. “Can we put a pin in this until later?”

“Define later.”

“When we’ve taken care of the Phantom Killer.”

Cas wanted to say no. He wanted to push Dean, because he was worried waiting would make it too late. But he also didn’t want to push Dean away, when they had just managed to get back on the same page.

“Okay,” Cas said.

After that, it was somewhat hard for Cas to fall asleep. Once again, Dean dropped off quickly, but unlike two nights previously, Cas didn’t find himself lulled by Dean’s slow, steady breath. When he had fallen asleep then, he had been sure of some things. He had been sure that he was independent and didn’t need to talk to his family. He was sure that no wonder what happened, he and Dean would be in it together, just like they’d always been.

And then neither of those things had been true.

He’d had to travel to the mansion to try and get answers, and he was still shaken from dinner with his parents and how dismissive they were all these years later. He’d had to do it because Dean wasn’t with him, they weren’t in it together.

And it could happen again.

Cas had discovered, that lonely winter break stuck in the mansion, that he wasn’t very good at being alone. He wanted to be good at it, had spent the first eighteen years of his life trying to be good at it. He didn’t have many friends at his (way too fancy) private school, seeing as he was without magic, and while he’d made friends early on at Korons, he’d kept them at arm’s length. His experience had been that people wanted him for the Novak name–and then got tired of him.

Dean had been different. He wouldn’t let Cas keep him at arm’s length, and Cas remembered a week into those six weeks trapped at home how Dean called him until he answered and then pressed him about what was wrong until he talked. No one had ever cared about him like that before, had genuinely wanted to know how he was doing.

In the dark, Cas couldn’t make out Dean’s features, but he knew them, perhaps better than his own. He knew how Dean’s features were smoothed out now in sleep, his usual restlessness finally restful. He knew where all the freckles across the bridge of Dean’s nose were. He knew behind Dean’s eyelids, how green his eyes were. He knew all these things and more.

He knew that he needed sleep.

With three people, the usual morning routine was a little bit busier, but it was actually nice having a third person there. Cas wasn’t sure what he would have done if he’d been alone in the kitchen with Dean while Dean fried their eggs, and Jo was a nice buffer. She made fun of Dean’s Scooby-Doo socks (it was a normal, non-magical show that they had both grown up with, as they both came from normal families. Dean had shown it to Cas early on in their friendship, and Cas had to admit that it was quite amusing and enjoyable) and talked about classwork and, thankfully, did not mention the Phantom Killer, although Cas knew that the hooded figure was on all of their minds.

He tried to focus in class, but once again, herbs seemed unimportant. Everyone was whispering about what had happened in the dorms last night, and even the professors seemed distracted. The morning dragged by until lunch when, as per usual, Dean met him outside of Levar Hall. Today, they decided to eat with their friends instead of doing research.

(Well, that’s not exactly what happened, but Dean didn’t suggest doing research.)

(So Cas didn’t offer.)

When they sat down at the table, everyone stared at them except for Jo, who was halfway through a burrito.

“What?” Dean said.

“Jo said that you two are cool again,” Aaron said. “Is that true?”

“Better than ever,” Dean replied, and his tone was so jovial that everyone believed him. Cas went along with it, smiling too, even though he himself wasn’t sure if they were actually better than ever. They still hadn’t–

Dean was avoiding–

Cas swallowed that away. They still had the rest of lunch to get through, and classes, and another night of homework and television, hopefully one that would not be interrupted by the Phantom Killer’s machinations. It was a tall order, but maybe if Cas could follow along with Dean and pretend that all was well, that order could be filled.

“So, Cas, tell us about your powers!” Aaron continued. “You were too busy moping yesterday to talk.”

“You were moping?” Dean muttered to Cas.

“Well, yeah, you were acting like I didn’t exist.” Cas didn’t mean for it to sound so biting, but Dean didn’t recoil from him, and he recovered, speaking to the group as a whole once more. “I don’t know much about them, to be honest.”

“There was lightning,” Dean interjected. “Sort of.”

“Like…raw energy coming out of my fingertips.” Cas looked down at his hands. He still couldn’t imagine that kind of power coming from him, not when he was…like this.

Himself.

Always the reject.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” Meg said bluntly.

“All of us are, to be honest,” Charlie pointed out. “Jo had a pretty close call last night.”

“Don’t you think the Phantom Killer will take a step back?” Jo asked. “I mean, he’s been caught twice now.”

“Technically, only once,” Dean said, and followed up when everyone started staring at him. “Cas and I never called the police.”

“You never–” Meg practically exploded. “What were you thinking?”

“It was a stressful night,” Cas said. “That wasn’t the first thing on our mind.”

“Yeah,” Dean added. “There was a lot going on.” His hand unconsciously drifted up to his shoulder, and Cas swallowed, throat suddenly dry. He’d gotten a glimpse of the handprint the night before, still red and raised, and he’d wondered whether it would scar, and whether Dean would mind if it did.

“But still,” Jo said, either not noticing or ignoring Dean’s movement, “That was a pretty high-profile sighting last night. Maybe he’ll lay low for a little while.”

“Maybe.” Meg shrugged. From the expressions around the lunch table, it didn’t seem like anyone had much hope, her included.

“Whaddya want for dinner?” Dean asked when they got back to their apartment, not even bothering to pretend to do his homework.

Cas shrugged. He’d already taken out his textbooks and spread them out across the table.

“How about mac-n-cheese?” Dean asked.

“I’m fine with that.” Cas was almost always fine with mac-n-cheese, and Dean knew that.

Dean started slamming various cabinet doors, peering into the fridge, pulling out a pot to boil water in, while Cas kept trying to focus on his books. There was something off about Dean’s energy, but Cas had been prodding a lot recently, and he didn’t feel like doing it more.

“We’re out of mac-n-cheese,” Dean said after rummaging through their kitchen cabinets.

“We can have something else,” Cas replied, “Isn’t there a bag of chips in there somewhere?”

“We are not having chips for dinner, Cas. I have some standards.” Dean grabbed his keys off the kitchen counter. “Let’s go to the store.”

Normally, Cas would protest about it being after dark, especially with the Phantom Killer still roaming about (and the two of them no closer to finding out their identity), but it seemed like Dean was in one of those moods where he was hell-bent on doing what he wanted to do, so, as always, Cas followed him out the door.

The ride to the grocery store was quiet, save some classic rock station playing softly from Dean’s car radio. At this hour, there were almost no other cars out on the road, and for a moment, Cas let himself enjoy the quiet of the night, the road rushing by, Dean’s company, and the music.

He let himself enjoy a normal night.

Before the Phantom Killer rose to prominence, before they had murdered three people and the murders were linked, before any non-magical people out had to watch their backs any time they went anywhere, this was a normal night for them, and Cas didn’t worry about the lateness. He was focused on getting a tub of ice cream and heading back to their apartment to continue their movie.

(Dean often got a craving for ice cream and would drag Cas along to get some.)

The store itself was also nearly deserted, and even though they were only supposed to be getting mac-n-cheese, Dean grabbed a cart and began wheeling it through the aisles. “We’re out of beer,” Dean pointed out, and Cas nodded along.

The atmosphere on the road, in Dean’s car, had been comforting and familiar, but the atmosphere in the store was downright unnerving. The bright fluorescent lights beat down, casting the supermarket as otherworldly.

They stopped in the cereal aisle and Dean reached up to grab a box from the top shelf, the sleeve of his t-shirt riding up so that Cas could see the very bottom of the handprint he’d…well, there were no good words for it. He’d pushed it onto Dean’s shoulder, and Dean had pushed him away.

What was it he’d said at the time?

I’ll take this over getting sliced open with a giant knife.

Cas swallowed as Dean put a box of cereal in their cart and the handprint disappeared from view. Dean started pushing the cart again before speaking as if they’d been in the middle of a conversation.

“I knew you were sad, but I didn’t realize you were moping.”

“Aaron’s words, not mine.” Cas followed Dean down the brightly-lit aisle of the grocery store. “And it’s like I said, you were acting like I didn’t exist.”

“You still sound mad.” Dean grabbed a box of mac-n-cheese from the shelf.

“I’m trying not to be.”

“Cas–”

“I know that you were upset, but it wasn’t like I did magic on purpose. You left me, and the only place I had to go was to my family. And you know what seeing them does to me. You, of all people, should know it best. And then when I got back, you had the…the gall to act like I cared about them more than you.” Cas was trying to keep his voice down in the empty store, which meant that he was sort of whisper-shouting.

“I’m–”

“You are the only person who’s ever really been there for me or understood me, and then you left me. Imagine how I felt–no explanation, no contact, no nothing. Just an empty apartment and texts you wouldn’t respond to and a closed door. You didn’t even give me a chance, when I was willing to do anything”

“Cas, I’m sorry.” Dean turned away from the shelf with the macaroni to face him. “I’ll say it a thousand times until you believe me. You have to believe me. I just…when you said through my door that you were going to see your parents, I gave up. You’d said you never wanted to see them again, and I heard that then as I’ll never see them again unless I want to, and I thought maybe you wanted to.”

“I can confirm that I definitely didn’t.”

They stared at each other in the pasta aisle, silence settling back over them, and Cas had half the mind to leave, although he didn’t know where he would go. This whole argument was making him profoundly uncomfortable.

“Can we just…” Dean shrugged. “I dunno, Cas, move past it? I know I upset you, and I’m sorry. I don’t know how many other ways to say it. But I wish you could just see it from my perspective for a moment. Imagine your best friend, who you met because neither of you can do magic, suddenly has magical powers, and then he leaves to go have dinner with his magical megalomaniac family that he swore he would never speak to again. Wouldn’t you feel left behind?”

“I guess.”

“That’s how I felt, Cas. And I’m sorry I misread things and took it out on you. But you can’t keep holding it against me.”

All of the fight drained out of Cas. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Dean held out a hand. “I’m–” Cas started.

“Nope.”

“Dean–”

“Neither of us are perfect.” Dean chucked another box of mac-n-cheese in the cart. “I’m just glad that we still like each other, you know?”

Cas wanted to tell Dean that there was no way he wouldn’t like him, but he couldn’t figure out how to dislodge the words from his throat, so he kept his mouth shut and followed Dean. They used the self-checkout, seeing as they only had a couple of bags of groceries, and headed out of the store. In the time that they’d been inside, the sun had set, and the parking lot lights had snapped on.

On the drive back, Cas felt an increased sense of trepidation. With the warm glow of the sun still present, he’d been able to imagine a safer world, one void of the Phantom Killer’s influence, but now, with darkness descending, there was a real and prominent chill in the air.

“What’s that?” Dean said suddenly, and Cas sat up in the passenger’s seat, looking out the window. There was something on the side of the road, a long, uneven lump.

“I don’t know,” Cas said.

“I think it’s a person.” Dean slowed the Impala down.

“Should we really–” Cas was thinking about the dark, and the danger, and the thought of getting out of the car when it was dark and there were no other people around…

“We should.”

Cas swallowed. “I know.”

Dean pulled the car over to the gravelly shoulder of the road, putting it in park before taking the keys out of the ignition. They sat there in silence for a moment before Dean unlocked the driver’s side door and got out of the Impala, and Cas followed suit.

It was eerily, ominously quiet, the only sound their footsteps crunching in the gravel as they approached the figure.

“It’s a woman,” Dean said, crouching down next to her. Cas didn’t recognize her, but she had long curly blond hair that was spilling across the ground, and there was a cut on her forehead, a trickle of blood still oozing sluggishly out of it. Her shirt, however, seemed intact, no bloody knife-slice bisecting her, which meant that it probably wasn’t the work of the Phantom Killer. “She’s still breathing, we should call an ambulance.”

“I got it.” Cas fished his phone out of his pocket and made to dial the emergency number, but before he could, he found himself being thrown across the ground.

He landed on his back and pushed himself up onto his elbows so that he could see his attacker. As he dug his elbows into the ground, he could feel wetness on the gravel, like blood, but he ignored it, because looming over him was the cloaked figure of the Phantom Killer.

It was a trap, Cas thought faintly before the Phantom Killer stepped towards him. It was as if it was four nights ago, except this time, instead of the Phantom Killer in their apartment, over Dean, the killer was here, and Cas knew that he had something that could help.

It was the first time he’d been grateful for his powers since discovering them.

Cas pushed himself up to a seated position and then leapt up, grabbing the Phantom Killer’s arm, releasing a bolt of energy. The killer staggered, but didn’t run like last time, and Cas kept holding on until he felt chill under his fingers and resistance pushing them away.

Resistance like wind.

Like the wind that had thrown him across the ground.

Wind like–

“Luke,” Cas said, horrified, almost too scared to even really say the name.

The Phantom Killer shook off his hood to reveal Cas’s oldest brother. “Took you long enough to figure it out.”

“What are you doing?” Cas asked. “Who’s this woman? Why are you hurting her? Why are you hurting me?”

“Because you know too much.” Luke shrugged. It was easy, now, for Cas to see the way that his brother filled out the cloak, how he made up the killer’s threatening stature. “And you may have magic now, but you’re still one of them.”

“Them?”

“Those who took advantage of an education they never should have been afforded. Go to the normal world, live with the rest of the vermin who can’t do magic!” Cas had never heard anyone in his family speak with such open hatred of normal folk, even though he knew it existed.

“I’m going to do good things with that education,” Cas said, trying to stand his ground. “So is Dean.”

“But you’d do better to not have it at all.” Luke swung his hand up, and that was when Cas saw it: the knife.

The knife that he’d thought to himself didn’t seem as long as he thought it would, but now, with it looming above him.

I’m his brother, Cas thought. I’m his brother and he’s going to kill me.

He stuck his hands out, but without any of Luke to grab onto, he wasn’t sure how to funnel his powers, he didn’t know how to use them, and it was too late. All that was left was closing his eyes and bracing himself, hoping that Dean was calling someone, anyone.

But the blow never came.

Cas was reluctant to open his eyes, afraid that something had happened to Dean instead, but there hadn’t been a cry, so–

“I don’t think he’s gonna cut you open, Cas. Or anyone. Anytime soon.” Dean’s voice.

Cas let himself open his eyes, and he found Luke crumpled on the ground at his feet. Part of the giant black cloak had been kicked away, and all of his limbs were askew, save one: the arm that had been holding the knife. Instead, it had been lopped off, and next to him, Dean was holding a sword.

“Did you get that from your trunk?” Cas said dumbly.

“You betcha.” Dean flipped the sword in his hand. “Sorry for cutting your brother’s hand off.”

“Don’t worry.” Cas looked down at Luke’s prone form, at Luke snarling at him. “He’s not my brother.”

The hospital was bright and sterile, completely different from the way the environment has been when they’ve discussed this sort of thing before. It was miles away from Cas’s bed, from the darkness of those nights, confronting the way that the Phantom Killer—no, no longer a phantom, Luke Novak—had slipped into their lives. There was fear in those embraces, and Dean had said to put a pin in it because he was afraid.

Well, Luke was going to be locked up for life now, Cas was sure, which meant that perhaps they could be free. Perhaps the fear was gone.

“Dean?” Cas asked. His voice felt too loud in the sterile environment of the hospital, with the white walls and smooth tile floors and occasional beeping of machines and calls over the intercom.

“Yeah?” Dean looked at him sleepily. They’d been up all night, thanks to questioning by Sheriff Ketch’s investigators, and then checking the unconscious woman into the hospital, and his face was soft.

“You said that we could talk after we took care of the Phantom Killer.”

“Yeah.” Dean yawned and then suddenly looked more alert. “Yeah, I did. Do you want to?”

“Want to what?”

“Talk about it.”

“I’m bringing it up for a reason, Dean.”

“I know, I just…” Dean sighed. “I’m still scared, Cas.”

“Well, I’m not letting you put a pin in it anymore.”

Dean looked down at his hands, and then at the floor. “Cas, you’re my best friend.”

“And you’re mine.”

“So don’t you worry that something might happen, that we might try this whole romance thing and then it blows up in our faces? What if we lose each other?”

“Dean, I’m already in love with you.”

“You—“ Dean gaped at him. “Wait. Really?”

Cas felt himself retracting. “I—sorry. That was too forward, and I know we’re just now talking about this, and you said you were scared—“

“No. I’m not…that helps, actually. If it’s worth anything, I feel the same.”

They stared at each other for a moment. It was one of those times where the world seemed to stop, seemed to make space for them. Cas didn’t know what to say, hadn’t meant to say it at all, but then Dean had just…

Cas wanted Dean to know, and now Dean knew.

So Cas held out his hand to him, palm flipped up, and waited. Dean stared at Cas’s hand for a few seconds, and then he made a decision (Cas could tell by the way there was a slight clench to his jaw) and took Cas’s hand.

“I guess we’ve decided, huh?” Dean said.

“I guess so.”

Cas found that he had never been so exhausted before when he and Dean finally made it back to their apartment. They’d been at the hospital until nearly five in the morning, thanks to the police arriving to question them and waiting to see how the woman they’d found was doing, and then Cas scrolling idly through the news on his phone, especially MagiGram, as the news broke: The Phantom Killer’s real name was Lucas Novak.

He wasn’t even surprised when he fell into bed and Dean climbed in alongside him. They didn’t speak, didn’t discuss anything, just fell asleep pressed against each other.

When Cas awoke, he had no idea what time it was, although light was coming in through his blinds. He yawned and shifted slightly, and that was when he noticed Dean, still fast asleep, head on one of Cas’s pillows. Cas was used to Dean’s laughs, his devilish grins, not this slack peacefulness that stretched over Dean’s face now. And there was nothing preventing Cas from looking, not anymore. He could look at Dean as much as he wanted to, never had to tear his eyes away. All he had was this, a hand held, and one shallow kiss granted in fear, but he wasn’t sure he needed much more.

And then Dean opened his eyes, blinking at Cas sleepily, a smile dawning on his face, and Cas did want more. Without thinking, he reached up one of his hands and slid it up Dean’s t-shirt sleeve, fitting his hand over the scar there. It fit perfectly, of course, and what fit even better was the way that Dean leaned forward, moving his head from the pillow, to press their lips ever-so-gently together. It was a fuller kiss than the one the night the Phantom Killer had visited. Dean caught Cas’s bottom lip between his own, but it was still gentle, and Cas held on.

“Hey,” Dean eventually said, pulling back. His lips were spit-slick, and Cas could still feel the ghost of them on his own. He could also feel what remained of a shred of disbelief that this was his life, that it was really happening to him.

The magic powers didn’t mean anything to him, not right now.

Neither did anything else.

Five days later…

THE PHANTOM KILLER A PHANTOM NO MORE!!!

April 15

Staff writer Alicia Banes

Early on the morning of April 9, authorities apprehended the Phantom Killer, now known to be Lucas “Luke” Novak, the eldest son of the Novak family. Known for their massive manufacturing group Novak Industries, the Novaks have come under fire in the past for allegedly refusing to hire non-magical individuals. In a statement, Sheriff Ketch said that Novak “did not seem to show any remorse for his actions.” He also assured the populace that the killer’s reign of terror is over.

The Phantom Killer was apprehended by two Korons Institute students who would like to remain unnamed. Novak will go on trial next month and is facing multiple life sentences for his crimes.

“Oh, you know Alicia is thrilled that she got to write this,” Dean said, setting the newspaper down on their kitchen table. “Now everyone is going to ask her who the anonymous students are, and she can act like she knows.”

“Better her get badgered with questions than me.” It had been Cas’s idea to keep their identities secret, and Dean readily agreed. Due to the nature of the crimes, the trial would be a closed one, where no media could invade, and hopefully that meant that they would never have to deal with being badgered with questions. Cas was also sure that people would quickly make the connection between Lucas and Castiel Novak, and that was going to be more than enough for him to deal with.

“What do you think?” Dean said. “Will there be another duel today in the commons?”

“Knowing Korons, definitely,” Cas replied, taking a sip of his coffee. Underneath the table, his socked foot was touching Dean’s, and he felt…peaceful.

It had been less than a week since Luke, disguised as the killer, had shown up in their apartment, but it had effectively turned Cas’s entire life upside down. After leaving the hospital upon notification that the unconscious woman they had found was completely fine thanks to the ministrations of the nurses and doctors, they had headed back to their apartment, and Cas called his parents. He let them know that he was going to file a no-contact order with the police, meaning that if they violated it, they might go to a similar place as Luke.

(He hoped, however, that Anna would try to break it. She was only eighteen, and hopefully Luke’s actions would show her that the Novak family was nothing worth being part of. Stocks for Novak Industries had already crashed, and it wasn’t helped by Chuck and Naomi completely denying that Luke was the culprit, despite the evidence piling up against him—and them.)

And then there was the matter of Dean. Part of Cas wondered if, had Luke not invaded their home, they would be in the position they were in now. Instead of worrying about the future and all of the changes that would come with graduation, Cas felt buoyed. Dean was sticking around and he was sticking with Dean, and they got to spend a night together without the fear of being sliced open looming over them.

Dean smiled at Cas now, over their coffee, all gummy and indulgent, and it warmed Cas through. If they didn’t hurry up, they would both be late for class, and there were only two weeks before finals and then graduation and then the future, which seemed a lot less scary now.

It felt a little bit like everything was going to be okay.

So Cas drank his coffee, and Dean kept reading the newspaper, and the world kept on turning.