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Sam had always been an encyclopedia of weird. It was just another thing Dean missed about him. And looking back, maybe that was what he had liked about Castiel at first, that he had reminded him of Sam that way.
He had done the right thing. He knew he had. Sam needed more than he and his father could give him. Moving around all the time, living out of a car, eating mostly microwaved food that came in plastic or cold food out of the can, that life was all right for Dean. But Sam needed better, deserved better. It had taken weeks of fighting with their father, while Sam listened behind closed doors with his heart pounding in his throat, for Dean to convince John. But now it was done. Sam was at the live-in Governors School that the English teacher in Indiana had recommended for him. He still contributed with research over the phone when they needed him. But for the first time, Sam wasn't there when Dean got back from hunts with their father. It was cold in motel rooms, and there was no one to laugh with. Dean loved his father. But he was desperately lonely without Sam.
So when he had been recommended for peer counseling at another forgettable school in another forgettable town, he had figured it would at least get him out of economics class for twenty minutes once in a while, and he was hurting for a friend anyway. Not that he wanted to admit that, even to himself.
The boy was eighteen, like him, but unlike Dean, he wasn't planning on dropping out of the rest of his senior year.
"It's sucking out my life," Dean complained on their first session. "That's why they sent me here. Because I told them high school is sucking out my life. Like a freaking shtriga." It was out of his mouth before he could stop it.
Castiel stared at him with sharp blue eyes. "A shtriga? Like the Albanian witch monster that lives off the life force from the blood of children?"
Dean blinked at him. "Uh. Yeah. I mean, I didn't know they were Albanian. I...don't even know where that is."
The other boy took a deep breath and sat back in his chair in the small guidance department conference room. "Albania is near Greece. Bordered by Kosovo and Montenegro. The people there are called Albanians."
"Okay, professor. I was just saying I know what I want to do the rest of my life, and I don't need a degree to do it. So I'm dropping out in a few weeks. So this is all pointless."
Castiel nodded. "Okay. So let's try to make you less miserable till then."
A surprised smile came over Dean's face. "You're not gonna try talking me out of it?"
"Would it help?"
"No."
"Then why? I can tell by your face you already made up your mind."
"Yeah. About two years ago."
He nodded again.
Dean looked at him for the first time. He had sized him up earlier, but that was not the same thing.
The guy was tall, nearly as tall as Dean, though not so broad. He had an interesting face, handsome and smirking, as if he knew something the rest of the world didn't. He wore thin wire glasses that made him look much older than he was, and Dean found that he liked it. There was something kind of attractive about the professor look.
"What about you?" he asked. "What's your plan?"
"I think I want to study theology. Religions, mythology, native beliefs, they're all kind of interesting."
"I guess."
"Maybe I'll study to become a college professor."
Dean burst into laughter. "I knew it!"
Castiel looked a little annoyed at that. "Why? Because I'm not using a life-sucking witch creature as an analogy for school?"
"Because you have the cool nerd thing down."
The boy frowned. "What's that mean?"
Dean shrugged. He was slumped onto the worn out couch, and he put his boots up on the side. "You know. The prom king valedictorian. The one that can't stand guys like me. My little brother will be one of those one day," he added, with a sharp pain in his chest.
"What kind of guy do you think you are?" Castiel asked softly.
"The screw-up. The dumb punk that thinks school is hard, and the kids and teachers are happy to see drop out."
"Is school hard, Dean?"
He looked up with a frown. His mouth was getting away from him. That never happened back when Sam was around to talk to. He could say what he meant to Sam, and then keep his mouth shut around other people. "No," he said, as if the question were a stupid one.
"What's hard about it?" Castiel pushed, as though he hadn't heard him.
Dean squirmed uncomfortably. "I don't know. I hate all the reading." That wasn't true. Dean liked reading. But it took him too long, and he didn't have time to waste on it. And he never got through the novels they were supposed to read in English before he had to return the book and move to another school. He still didn't know how Lord of the Flies ended up, and The Great Gatsby had just started getting good. He had begun Of Mice and Men three different times, but never finished it. He had once asked Sam how it ended, and Sam had told him he didn't want to know. Sam read fast enough to finish everything before they moved on. In plenty of towns, Sam finished his own books and Dean's too, while Dean was still trying to get through chapter four. It was another reason why Sam needed to be out of the life for a while, in a place where he could stay safe and be challenged.
"So you don't like the reading. Are you a math person?"
He laughed at this idea. "No way. That's Sam's thing, not mine. Math, computers. I build things okay. Cars. I like working with cars."
"Why aren't you at a tech school? One of the career centers? You'd still have to take math and English, but you could be doing more of what you like."
"Won't be here long enough for it to matter. Three weeks tops."
"Then you drop out?"
Dean felt relief filling him. That's right. This time, when John returned, Dean wouldn't be filling out a bunch of forms to transfer to a new school for a few weeks. He wouldn't have to introduce himself to a classroom full of kids who didn't care or who asked too many questions, ever again. This time, he was done. If he wanted to read a damn book, he'd read a damn book, but it wouldn't be on a deadline, there would be no test at the end, and it would be his choice. Maybe he would figure out what Sam was reading, and he'd read a few so he could talk to him about them in the summer.
Castiel sighed. "So? I'm getting out of a psychology in-class essay right now. What about you?"
Dean laughed quietly. "Econ. We're doing cost-benefit analysis. I weighed the costs and benefits of going to guidance to have my head shrunk by a kid, and it seemed to be the better choice."
The boy grinned at him. "I'm glad I won out over economics graphs."
"Only barely," Dean teased. "I'm not a talker."
"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. I'm just supposed to be here in case you do want to."
Dean sighed after a moment of silence between them. "Okay. There's one thing. The shtriga. I got school gripping me by the throat, but my brother, Sam. He's different. His shtriga is...Well, it's me and my dad. So he don't live with us anymore. He's at a school for real smart kids, and he lives there. It's hard to get into. But he's crazy smart. Freaking nerd is what he is. And so...so he's gone. And he's gonna be gone till June. Then he'll be gone again in late August for another ten months. I never...We've always been together, you know? But I was holding him back. Me and my dad, I mean."
He didn't like talking. Not at all. But Castiel's face was softening into attentive curiosity, and it made it a little easier.
"He's four years younger, but he's been my best friend for my whole life. And it..." He had to force the words out now. "It hurts to think...I practically raised the kid, you know? I hate thinking that he's better off without me. That the best thing for him is to be nine hundred miles away, among strangers."
"I'm so sorry, Dean."
The young man huffed. "Don't be sorry for me!" he snapped. "Sam's cooped up in some school twenty-four hours a day, and I got nobody who cares if I come or go. My dad won't be back for who knows how long. I got no little brother to worry about and no dad worrying about me. I'm free, man. I feel sorry for you!"
But the other boy simply sighed. "I am sorry, Dean."
He grabbed his father's jacket and sat up to put it back on. "Whatever. Time to go back to graphs."
"You're going to leave school, aren't you?"
Dean grinned at him, ignoring the weight in his chest. "Only if they still mind me smoking on the inside."
"I think they do."
"Then yeah. I'm done for today. Enjoy whatever it is you prom king valedictorian types do."
"I'll see you next week, Dean."
"Can't wait," he sent back in a snap just before he slammed the door behind him.
***
The whole time he was with Vanessa, he was sulking. It was just so typical that a girl like her had dated the perfect little nerd with the cool smile. Of course she had. And of course she couldn't stop talking about it.
"Cas and me, we were clearly the best looking couple. I mean, nobody could have denied that. Not even Rachel really believed any other couple was better looking. So when the ballots were counted and we found out those two had won, well, you can bet we knew somebody had fixed the voting. And guess who?"
"Rachel," he sighed.
"Of course it was Rachel. I mean, don't get me wrong. She's pretty. Sure she is. But Devin! I mean, come on! This was before he even got his braces off! And have you seen Cas? Seriously? I mean, maybe I made him look better than he is, but he's pretty hot all on his own."
"I've seen him," Dean said absently. His mind was beginning to wander. If this didn't progress toward some action soon, he was going to have to cut his losses and bolt.
"We'd still be together if he weren't so gay."
"Yeah," Dean muttered. Then he looked up. "Wait, what?"
"I said Cas and me. We'd still be together if he hadn't been so gay. He was perfectly fine while I dated him. Then I talked to Marco for a few weeks, and when I went back to pick up where we left off, Cas had turned gay. I guess that's how he coped with me hurting him."
Dean stared at her. "You think a guy turned gay because you were a bitch? Honey, not everything is about you!"
"What did you just say to me?" she shrieked.
"I said you're clearly a self-absorbed bitch, and I don't have time for that. I literally got three weeks left in high school. I don't have time for you to grow up."
"You're an asshole!" She threw herself out of the Impala and slammed the door behind her. "And your car's a piece of crap," she shouted through the window.
Dean's eyes closed, and he made himself breathe. "Don't listen to her, Baby. She's obviously an idiot. She thinks she's better looking than Castiel, for one thing. She obviously has no taste."
His Baby purred at him happily as he pulled out of the parking lot.
It was dark, and Dean didn't know the roads, but that hardly mattered, since he didn't have anywhere to go. It saved a lot of money sleeping in the car instead of a motel room while John was away. He showered every morning in the locker room at school, and then he could use his living money however he wanted. He had started doing that whenever John took off without him, now that Sam was gone. John had gotten the pickup truck, and had given him the Impala he had grown up in, and he was as comfortable sleeping in her front seat as he was in any motel bed. He got dinner from the gas station, and curled up to read his homework till it was too dark. Then he would open his flip phone and stare at Sam's number until he could convince himself his brother was safe and didn't want him interrupting his new life, and then he closed his eyes to sleep. He let shame fill his stomach as he chided himself for feeling lonely, when any good hunter would be grateful for some peace and quiet, out of the rain. Any day you walk away from was a gift. He knew that as well as any hunter. Loneliness was just part of the job.
Most nights, by the time he had finished berating himself, he had fallen asleep.
But tonight was Friday. He didn't know why he bothered with homework at all anymore, but he sure as hell wasn't going to do it on a Friday night. And he had just kicked out his best chance of getting any action. He had hoped Vanessa would have her mouth busy enough that her constant talking wouldn't drive him crazy, but they hadn't gotten that far.
Dean shifted in his seat and grumbled to himself. The only thing sucking him off tonight was his own personal shtriga. Maybe it was a mara, a nightmare imp that came in the night to suffocate people by sitting on their chests. He certainly felt like there was a horrible weight crushing him. But the shtriga was the best analogy.
God, shtrigas. He hated them like no other monster in the world, except whatever it was who had killed his mother, his home and his childhood. That shtriga had been what had made his father look at him like that, the one that made him look at Dean differently forever. It was the look that said he was never going to be the hunter his father was, the one who could protect his family. The shtriga that attacked Sam had ripped any remaining pride from John's eyes when he looked at his older son, and Dean had never gotten it back, no matter how hard he tried.
He could bullseye every target, but if he couldn't pull the trigger to save Sammy when it mattered, he was worthless. He had one job to do. He never should have left the kid alone to begin with, but he could have made up for that if he hadn't hesitated to kill the thing his father was hunting, the thing that was threatening his flesh and blood.
Shtriga. It had meant to feed off Sam, but it had stolen something from Dean that night too. And one day, Dean was going to kill it for that.
His stomach was tied into angry knots by the time he pulled in for gas. He considered buying some beer, but it was best to only use his fake IDs in towns he wasn't staying in. He let the gas pump while he cleaned the tires for no reason other than it made him feel better to be taking care of something.
He was crouched down attending to his Baby's wheels when the nerves in his scalp prickled. His right hand ceased its ministrations, and moved to grip his .45 tucked in at his back. Like an explosive dance, he spun to a stand, his weapon in two strong hands and his eyes sharp.
Castiel stumbled backward to fall onto the pavement below. "Whoa!" he cried. He scrambled to stand, hands held out defensively. "Whoa. Dean. What the hell?"
"Cas?" Dean hurried to safety his gun and put his own palms out in a hasty mirror of Castiel's gesture. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Don't sneak up on a guy!"
The blue eyes stared at him while Dean put the weapon away. "I wasn't sneaking. Just saw your car, and came over to say hi. You promise not to shoot me, and I'll just get out of your way."
"No! I'm sorry, man. Seriously. Don't go. I just..."
The eyes narrowed. "Why do you carry a gun?"
Dean sighed. The pump stopped, and he replaced it, and declined the receipt. "I come from a...a kind of tough neighborhood back where I used to live."
A slow smile crept up on Castiel's face then. "And you never know when an Albanian witch monster will attack."
"What?" Dean looked around them in confusion, then his brain caught up with his adrenaline. "Oh. Yeah, a shtriga. They probably don't stop at Gas and Sip places."
"I wouldn't expect them to," Castiel agreed. "So? Other than hunting monsters with a massive handgun, and driving around in a gorgeous classic, what do you do on Friday nights?"
All of the sudden, a grin burst onto Dean's face. "You like the car?"
Castiel snorted. He was beginning to relax his coiled muscles. Dean knew, because he could see them under his tee shirt. The kid had lean muscle, not like Dean's bulk, but he was strangely attractive. When he spoke, it was with a voice far lower than Dean had heard before. Or perhaps he was only now noticing for some reason. "What idiot wouldn't love this car?"
The grin was out of control now. "Nobody with any taste."
"Clearly."
"I'm just driving. You, uh...you doing anything?"
Castiel shrugged. "We prom king valedictorian types like to get a pie Friday nights at Bivio-"
"Pie?" Dean immediately felt his face heat at the eagerness he could hear in his own voice.
Castiel began to laugh. It was a quiet sort of laugh that pulled a sheepish smile out of Dean, even if it made him blush. "I meant pizza, but...They do have some good pie and cannoli for after. You eat yet? It's right there." Castiel jutted his chin at the restaurant across the parking lot. "I was going to join some buddies of mine, but I can hang out with them anytime. Only a few more weeks till you jet out, right?"
"Yeah," Dean breathed. "I'll meet you in there. I gotta park my girl."
Castiel nodded.
Dean watched the easy, graceful way the guy walked across the lot. His lips parted slightly, and he wet them with the point of his tongue.
Maybe the evening wasn't a total loss after all.
***
Castiel was sighing sourly while staring into his coffee. "Yeah. Vanessa has an over-inflated sense of her own importance."
Dean had never met another kid who talked like Castiel. It made him laugh. "What?" he teased gently. "You weren't so devastated by her betrayal that you swore off women forever on the spot?"
"I was the one who was trying to get Marco's attention. Not my fault he's limited in imagination."
Dean snorted.
He shrugged and gave Dean a smirk. "Vanessa, huh? That's what your type looks like?"
A warmth filled him as he looked into that handsome face. "I could ask you the same thing."
Castiel laughed. He sipped at his coffee, and watched Dean stabbing at his crostata. "My closet door might have been pretty wide open, but I was still standing inside it. Figured I had to give girls a try first."
Dean snickered through ricotta and lemon zest. "What was the verdict?"
"Even the pretty ones I actually like don't do anything for me. Vanessa annoyed the hell out of me. The photos she took of us far outnumbered the actual conversations we had. I actually tried to break up with her plenty of times. I was never blunt enough. She kept telling people we were taking a break. During one break, I made the mistake of telling Marco that I was single, and he took that to mean Vanessa was available."
"Ouch!"
The blue eyes cast down again, but the smile was not so sour as before. "So? You said you went out with her. You didn't say..."
"Dude, I didn't know she was your ex."
"No, it's fine. You barely even know me. Why would you care?"
Dean licked his lips. He watched the boy swirl his coffee around his cup for a moment. At last, he cleared his throat. "Maybe because I want to know you better."
The motion stopped, and the long fingers put the cup steady on the table. But the gaze did not move to meet Dean's. "Yeah?" he said in a low voice. "Why would you want that?"
The hunter was used to a coy target. His aim was exceptional. "Maybe because I have far better taste than Vanessa. I know a classic when I see one. And so do you."
When Castiel's lashes lifted, there was a tiny hint of fear in that blue gaze. There was also hunger there, Dean noted with satisfaction. He knew that when he saw it too.
"Cas, I know you're kind of stuck in the perfect all-American middle class white kid role. But that isn't all there is to you. You're a pleaser."
Castiel's eyes lowered again. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"A pleaser," he repeated around a mouthful. "You went out with that girl because it was what folks expected you to do. You get good grades, and you probably do a sport or something."
"I run track and play tennis."
Dean snorted again. "Yeah. And you date the pretty girl, and can't quite bring yourself to break up with her, because you don't want to upset anyone, so you let her pretend she broke your heart. You're a pleaser. Probably never did anything wrong in your life. You're confident enough to come out as gay, and yet you leave the girls with the impression they still have your attention."
"Does this psychoanalysis come with a bill at the end?"
He gave Castiel his sexiest, most suggestive grin. It rarely failed him. Castiel seemed to melt a little under its silent promises, even as he tried to give Dean a cool stare. "I'm just wondering if you've ever taken what you want instead of doing what pleases others."
Castiel swallowed. He gripped his coffee in both hands, and looked down at it again. "What...do you suggest?"
This was far more fun than trying to score Vanessa. Dean smirked wickedly, and reached across the table to run his fingertips across Castiel's wrist.
There was a quiet, sharp intake of breath, and the coffee nearly spilled.
"Life's short, man. And for some of us, it's gonna be real short. It's nice to please people. But you gotta take some pleasure for yourself now and then. You get me?”
The suspicion, tinged with fear, which was in the blue eyes when they peeked through the wire frames, made Dean lick his lips like a predator who had been caught staking out its next meal. He pulled his lower lip into his bite with his tongue, a move that drew Castiel’s gaze in a gorgeous display of want. The young man took a shuddering breath and locked their eyes again. “Dean,” he said quietly, “if you’re mocking me…”
The hunter sat back from his position leaning across the table. He gave a soft sigh, and dialed down his wolfish leer. “No, Cas. I wouldn’t.” In the back of his head, he could hear Sam’s voice. It told him to knock it off, to be genuine for once. That was easy for Sam to say. People always liked the real Sam. Dean had always relied on his charisma to get him what he wanted. But maybe just this once…
“I should go,” Castiel murmured.
“I’m lonely.” It came out of his mouth before his brain could cut it off.
Castiel’s hands stilled, and he stopped gathering his things to leave. He frowned at Dean.
This time, when Dean licked his lips, it was an anxious movement, not a rapacious one. He looked down at his own hands, and his eyes traced over the light outlines of scars. They were ugly, really. Utilitarian, like the rest of him. They were tools that belonged in his father’s trunk with everything else. Just like the rest of him. He heard himself speaking. “You think I could honestly mock some guy like you? Dude, you’re everything I could never be. Everything in my life could be different, and I’d never be as smart as you. You’re athletic, you’re confident. You volunteer as a freaking peer counselor, dude, and it ain’t to get out of class.”
“I have to make up all the work I miss anyway.”
Dean snorted and shook his head. “Yeah. Like I said. A guy like me? I got no business mocking a guy like you. You’re the kind of guy my brother will grow up into in a few years.” He stared far past Castiel at nothing. “Too good for a screw-up like me.” He took a deep breath, and opened his wallet to toss several bills onto the table. “I’ll leave you alone. Thanks for keeping me company for a little. It’s been a long time since I ate with anybody.” He forced a smile onto his face, and even winked for good measure. “Don’t let the girls talk you into pretending. Some prom kings are meant to be with other prom kings.”
He had reached his car, with a familiar tightness in his chest, when he felt the hand on his shoulder. His reflexes won out over his brain, and he slammed his palm into the wrist and gripped. He was an instant from putting Castiel’s face into the pavement before he stopped himself.
Dean dropped his own hands. He cursed through his teeth.
“Dammit!” Castiel shrieked, rubbing his forearm with his opposite hand. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I’m sorry!” he groaned. “I just...What? Did I not leave enough for the food? Math ain’t my strong suit.” He refused to look into Castiel’s incredible eyes. “Hell, I don’t have a strong suit.”
“Beating the crap out of people who don’t make enough noise when they walk might be one!” Castiel argued.
He sighed. “I’m sorry, dude.” He reached for his wallet. “What? How much more-”
“And running off when a conversation starts to involve emotions could be another.”
Dean glared up at the starless sky and blinked several times. He reached deep for his anger, but it was buried under a suffocating blanket of humiliation. “You ain’t on the clock, counselor. You’re just the type to take in stray dogs, aren’t you?”
“Just like your brother?” he asked quietly.
His eyes closed finally. It was as though he had been slapped. “What do you want?”
Castiel had all the confidence Dean faked on a daily basis. He was still just eighteen, and Dean could tell there was some insecurity, but nothing compared to that which swam in Dean’s stomach. So when he spoke, it was without a tremor, and it wasn’t a question. “You like me.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “I thought I made that pretty clear with the grab some pleasure for yourself speech.”
“No. You made it clear that you like to be the one in control of every situation, and you prefer that others are off-balanced so they don’t see that you’re making everything up as you go. You made it clear that you enjoy being wanted, but that you like to make everything about the other person so you don’t reveal anything about yourself, or what you want. You made it clear you’re not interested in anything other than pleasure for a little while, before you back off or run.”
Off-balance did not even begin to describe what Dean was feeling now. “What the hell are you even talking about?”
“You like hooking people, but you have every intention of throwing them back, not because there’s something wrong with them, although you’ll make it seem that way even to yourself, but because you’re pretty convinced there’s something wrong with you. I’m a pleaser, you said. You’re right. I have a deep-seated need for approval, and may have some characteristics related to a minor hero complex. But if you’re not juggling a guilt and inferiority pattern, not to mention a case of trauma-inspired paranoia, inside your head, I’ll take an F on my AP Psychology exam.”
“Cas-”
“You like me!”
“Yeah!” Dean shouted back in exasperation. “I like you! But I made you uncomfortable, so-”
“No, you backed off when I got uncomfortable, but you ran when you started thinking about your brother, about how you’re afraid one day he’ll grow to dislike you.”
Dean’s hands flew up. “How old are you really, professor?” he cried.
“Do you want me or not?”
His chest tightened sharply, as he stared into that blue confidence. He swallowed. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, I really do. God, you frustrate the hell out of me, but I want you.”
“Then stop running.”
Dean took a deep breath. “I can’t...I can’t promise anything. I just meant for now, for...for right now.”
“Of course you did,” Castiel said bitterly. “You made that part clear, remember? You throw them back so they can’t get to know you. But I know that going in, right? Did you screw Vanessa, Dean?”
“No. I called her a self-absorbed bitch. That usually cools things off.”
A smirk developed on Castiel’s handsome face. “Nice. Okay. I wasn’t getting in a car where Vanessa had helped herself to yet another guy I’m attracted to. I’ll tell you where to drive.”
Hope sprang up into Dean’s throat, and he had to swallow to speak again. “You...you want to drive someplace?”
“You’re smarter than you think, Dean. Try to keep up.”
It was twenty minutes later that Dean finally got his mouth on Castiel’s lips. The guy had directed him from the passenger seat to a lake Dean hadn’t even known was there. The hunter took out the wool military-issue blanket he slept with and laid it out on the grass. Then, with little warning, Castiel laid him out on the blanket. It was strange not to be the one in charge of the situation. But it wasn’t as frightening as he had expected it to be.
Castiel kissed with his eyes open. That was strange too, but it was hot.
***
Sam sounded happy to hear his voice, and Dean was relieved for that. It had taken him a very long time to decide whether or not to call. “Hey, man! I was just telling my roommate about the time you had to take me to the ER on the handlebars of that bike you stole. Remember that?”
“I remember.”
There was the sound of a door closing in the background, and Sam’s voice lowered. “You need me?” he asked in a more serious tone. “Is there a hunt?”
He smiled softly. “Yeah. And no. No hunt. I miss you, man.”
There was relief in the boy’s voice now. “Yeah, I miss you too. Whatcha doing?”
Dean looked down at the figure sleeping on the blanket below where he sat on the hood of his car. He spoke quietly, so as not to disturb his new friend. “I wanted to talk to you. About a guy I met.”
“Yeah? You back to guys now? I thought you said you had a statistically easier time finding girls, so guys were too much trouble.”
He snorted. “I think what I said was I don’t have time to find out who the gay guys are in every town we stop in, but it’s pretty obvious who the chicks are.”
“Right. I was the one who brought up the statistics.”
“Obviously.”
“So? He a good guy?”
Dean licked his lips, tasted Castiel again. He sighed happily. “Yeah. You’d like him. Reminds me a lot of you, actually.”
“You just screwed a guy that reminds you of me? That’s twelve kinds of messed up.”
“No, jackass. I just-Shut up.”
Sam laughed, and it was so good to hear that Dean closed his eyes for a moment to bask in it. “Seriously. What’s his name?”
“Cas.”
“That’s a girl’s name.”
He frowned. “No it isn’t.”
“Pretty sure.”
“Why do I even call you when something good happens?”
“Because I’m your best friend. Go on. Tell me about Cas.”
A crooked smile worked its way back onto his face now. “Sammy? I’m eighteen.”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe...maybe when Dad comes back this time...Maybe I’ll tell him I want to stay here. Just for a while longer.”
There was silence on the other end, and he chewed on his lip. Finally, Sam responded. “I think you should.”
It was as though his little brother had given him permission to breathe again. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, I do. He needs you, he can call you in off the bench. You got the car. You can go wherever he is. In the meantime, you should stay if you want to stay. You don’t have to give up hunting completely. I mean...Dad knows a lot of hunters who always come back to the same place. Some hunters have homes, Dean. Some even have friends and families.”
He swallowed hard. Fear was snaking its way up his throat, and he felt like throwing up. “Some hunters can protect their best friends,” Dean croaked. “They can protect their families. Me…”
“Dean? You told me last summer, before I left for this school, about the time you choked. With the shtriga. And I know you still have nightmares. But you’re a stronger hunter than you were back then. If something threatened somebody you care about now...Dean, you were a kid.”
“That’s no excuse. Hunters are never kids.”
“Then why am I at school? Why did you help me get out of the life? Dean? Come on. You know I’m right.”
He felt the tears streaming down his face, and he swiped at them, and sniffed. Sam was always right. “Only because you’re a freaking nerd.”
“A nerd who is alive and happy because of you. You can have a friend, Dean. And if you needed to, you could protect him. Just like you’ve done for me a hundred times since that shtriga. If I ever have to go up against anything again, you’re the one I want by my side. Not Dad. Not Uncle Bobby. Not any other hunter. You. I don’t want to hunt, Dean. I want to be a normal kid at a good school. But if I ever hunted again, I wouldn’t do it with anybody else. You’ve always had my back, man. And this guy, Cas, if he’s good enough to make you want to stay in one town? Stop running, man.”
Dean stared down at the dark head of hair on the blanket. He would have to wake Castiel soon, to take him home. But for another few minutes, Dean just wanted to look at something beautiful and not worry about breaking it. “He's a good guy, Sam. And smart. He's gonna go to college one day. Just like you.”
“And wherever he goes, he could use a hunter watching over him. Nobody better for that than you.”
“I'm scared, Sam.” It was so soft a confession that he wasn't sure his brother would hear.
“I know you are. But you got to take a chance. Might as well be now. You're a good hunter, Dean. You're gonna be better than Dad one day.”
He snorted again, and rubbed at his wet cheeks.
“You will. But you're lonely too. And that's gonna kill you faster than any Albanian witch monster.”
He looked down at Castiel smiling slightly in his sleep, and he chuckled. “You're an encyclopedia of weird, you know that?”
“Tell me about it.” Sam sighed. “Goodnight, jerk.”
“‘Night, bitch.”
Sam’s laugh echoed in his mind long after he hung up.
Dean climbed off his Baby's hood, and lowered himself to the ground to lay beside Castiel stiffly, awkwardly. “All right, professor,” he whispered. “I'll try if you will.”
Castiel snored quietly, and moved into Dean's warmth.
The hunter sighed.