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Spencer Reid does not want to be here right now.
He and his team are investigating a series of brutal murders in bumfuck the middle of nowhere, Kansas, just days before Christmas. Honestly, there are only a few other places that he wouldn’t rather be right now, but he sighs, steels himself, and pushes open the door to the local bar. The door swings open with a squeak and slams shut behind him. He already feels out of place. The establishment itself is not very full, but the few people who do linger around are very distinctly bigger and broader than him and wear much more plaid.
He lingers anxiously in the doorway, almost as if he could take back ever stepping through the doors, feeling singled out in his more nerdy city attire and tiny frame. Perhaps Morgan should’ve come here instead of him. No one stares at him longer than the standard couple of seconds or makes any threatening sort of gesture, so he slowly relaxes, wandering through the open room and taking in the Christmas decor. There’s garland on the wall with red ribbon bows placed methodically throughout. There’s a tree in the corner with colorful lights and what appears to be an angel tree topper. The tree topper has been forced into what appears to be a tiny trenchcoat, probably as the result of a practical joke, but Spencer is unable to identify why this is funny.
Finally, he works up the courage to approach the counter, where a single bartender is wiping down the counter with a rag.
“What can I get for you?” The bartender asks, not bothering with formalities.
“Actually,” Spencer says, gaining confidence. He’s used to this part. “My name is Dr. Spencer Reid." He pulls out and shows his badge. “I am with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. I had a couple of questions about some recent murders that occurred not too far from here.”
“Damn, kid.” The bartender says, stopping what he is doing and looking up at Spencer with a familiar grin. “They got you working this close to Christmas? Aren’t you supposed to get government-supplied time off?”
“Dean Winchester,” Spencer says as the realization hits him, all confidence seeping from his body once more. He tucks his badge away, and suddenly he doesn’t know what to do with himself.
"I hope you’re not coming after me.” Dean continues. “Because I got out of that kind of life.” Another man appears from the back as Dean is talking and settles into place beside him.
“This place is yours.” Spencer infers.
“Sure is. Cas helps a lot, though.” Dean confirms, motioning to the man next to him. Spencer’s gaze shifts over to look at him and catalogs his appearance. The other man is shorter than Dean, but not by much, has dark hair and blue eyes, and is wearing a battered, old trenchcoat. That would explain the tree topper then. Spencer doesn’t recognize him.
“My name is Castiel.” The stranger introduces himself, his voice deep and gravelly. “Though most people call me Cas. You may find that more comfortable as well.”
Spencer stares at him, eyebrows furrowed. "Sorry." He apologizes after a couple of seconds. “It’s just… Sam had said you… died.” He admits hesitantly because Cas is very alive and well in front of him.
Dean nods like that makes sense somehow. “Yeah, that was a while ago.” He turns to glance at Cas. “This is back when you were...” He makes a twirling motion around his ear, indicating being crazy.
“I got better,” Cas says, as if that explains anything. Spencer blinks at him, perturbed.
“Cas, this is the kid genius FBI agent I was telling you about. Spencer Reid. The one who can read real fast and has a photographic memory.”
"Eidetic memory." Spencer corrects. Dean just shrugs like he doesn't care about or understand the difference.
“It is nice to formally meet you,” Cas says sincerely.
“He’s in town for some murders not too far from here and has some questions for us.”
“We’d be happy to help.”
Spencer isn’t really sure where Castiel fits into all of this. He doesn’t appear to be a serial killer of any kind, because Spencer has never heard of him before, but then did he really help Dean stop killing? Their easy camaraderie implies a level of familiarity, and their tendency to gravitate towards each other implies a level of closeness more intense than just friendship. He doesn’t feel as threatened by Dean as he did in the past, like the mediocrity of the setting has dampened the feeling of danger. Dean himself seems less like a live wire, ready to explode, and more like a sword with dull edges.
And where was Sam?
“Hey, kid.” Dean breaks him out of his thoughts. “You hungry? I always think better on an full stomach. Got any allergies?" He gestures with his hand and Spencer notices a flash of gold from Dean's left hand, eyes zeroing in on the metal band resting on his ring finger.
"Uh– no,” Spencer says distractedly, before realizing that this implies that he actually wants to eat something. Dean disappears into the back before he has a chance to say something about it.
“I know you have no desire to eat anything right now,” Cas says randomly once Dean has gone, reminding him that he still stands there, blue eyes boring into his soul from behind the counter. He places his hands on the edge of the counter and Spencer notices that he is wearing a matching gold band. That would explain it then. Many people have drastically changed their lifestyle choices for love. “But I’d appreciate it if you would. Dean feels obligated to care for you because you remind him of Sam, and he was in charge of Sam’s safety and well-being when they were children. Their father was not a good man and was not around a lot. He is not the best with his words, but he often shows his affection for people through his cooking. Even if you do not eat the burger, the fries are very good. You also have not eaten for several hours and are probably hungry, though you do not realize it."
Spencer stares blankly at Cas, blinking at him a few times and sitting down on the bar stool dumbly. Not only was that a lot to process, but he had no idea how Cas knew that he hadn’t eaten recently. Spencer was the one who was used to dumbfounding people, not being dumbfounded.
“Here’s your burger,” Dean says, returning just as Spencer’s brain manages to come back online. “You seem like the kind of guy who wants nothing on it.” He says, placing the plate down in front of him. “So it's just burger, bun, and cheese.”
That is exactly how Spencer prefers his burgers, even though most people assume he enjoys the other toppings, like lettuce and tomatoes. Honestly, they're not too bad, he just hates the texture. He’s starting to feel like he's walked into an alternate dimension where people can read his mind. He notices Cas watching him from the corner of his eye and picks up a fry, shoving it in his mouth. Cas seems to relax some, and Spencer continues to eat, suddenly feeling nauseous with how hungry he is.
“So, what were you guys talking about?”
“Spencer was telling me about the case,” Cas says, even though Spencer very distinctly said nothing of the sort.
“Oh yeah? Sound like our kind of thing?” Dean asks. Spencer has no idea what that is supposed to mean.
“No,” Cas confirms as Spencer gnaws on another fry. It’s not professional to be eating on the job, and this is technically supposed to be an interview, but all that came crashing to the ground when he ended up walking into Dean Winchester’s bar. Besides, they seem to have it under control. “This seems just to be a simple set of murders. It appears that a man has taken to kidnapping and killing younger girls in the area. It is unfortunate, but common in the United States.”
“Jesus,” Dean says sympathetically, obviously shaken and upset at the idea. “Good thing Claire isn’t around."
“Yes,” Cas agrees, and Spencer wonders who Claire is. Their daughter or a family friend, maybe? Someone young, given that the unsub has only been taking girls under the age of 25. He picks up the burger and takes a bite. Huh. It’s good. “She is in South Dakota visiting Jody, but she promised to swing by for Christmas.”
"Damn!" Dean curses, pulling out his phone. “I’ll let her know to be careful."
“I doubt she will take kindly to that.” Cas points out. “You know she can take care of herself.”
“Yeah, well, sue a guy for getting cautious in his old age."
Cas smiles. “Sam complains to me about it enough as it is."
“Sam can shove his complaints—“
“Sam is doing okay?” Spencer cuts him off, his curiosity too strong to stay quiet.
“Oh yeah,” Dean grins, looking up from his phone. “Got himself a girlfriend and everything.” Dean pauses, and then a look of understanding passes across his face. “You probably meant the hallucinations. He doesn’t have them anymore. All fixed.” He assures.
Spencer isn’t sure what that means; hallucinations aren’t something you can ‘fix’, but he decides not to comment. “So you don’t have anything that can help us with the investigation?” Spencer asks, glancing up from the remains of his food.
“Sorry, kid. It looks like this isn’t really our area.” Dean says, sounding truly apologetic.
Spencer sighs, pushing himself to his feet. “That’s alright. I appreciate your time and the food."
“You want one to go?” Dean asks.
Spencer shakes his head. “I should get back to it. Happy holidays."
“You too, kid,” Dean replies, and Cas nods politely. “Hey, Spencer,” Dean calls after he’s only taken a couple of steps. “Be careful, you hear? The last thing I need is for your dead body to turn up on the news."
It’s a little unsettling how bluntly he states it, but he feels a rush of warmth settle in his chest at the thought. He isn’t quite sure what Dean Winchester is or how to justify the things he’s done, but Spencer no longer feels confident labeling him as a stone-cold serial killer.
He steps out into the cold, winter air and allows it to wash over him, centering him and waking him up. He should've asked for a cup of coffee. The sun is low in the sky, only the faintest traces of light escaping over the horizon, and the street lamps that have flickered on buzz in the distance. Spencer makes his way over to his car, only to find Castiel standing by it.
“How did—“ he starts to ask, cutting himself off in his bewilderment. He turns to glance at the front door and then back to Cas.
Cas is leaning against the car with his hands in the pockets of his trenchcoat, looking up at the stars that are starting to appear in the sky. “The man you met claiming to be Raphael was no angel."
Spencer feels his blood run cold. He has no idea how Cas knows about that, those nights in the shack, and the trauma he keeps as a result of it. Suddenly, the cool night air is not as refreshing as it was seconds ago.
“You did not deserve the things he did to you.” Cas looks over at him, bright eyes staring at him with conviction. “You are a good man.” He pushes himself off the car and walks closer to Spencer. “It was not your fault. The things he did to you and what came after.” He glances away, as if he cannot face Spencer with the words he says next. “When I first met Sam, he struggled with a similar addiction. I was not as understanding of it as I am now, and I ridiculed him harshly for it. It is something I much regret.” He finally glances back up at Spencer, and he can see the truth of it in his eyes. “Dean has since taught me to care for several people, and as such, I will care for you.”
He places a hand on Spencer’s shoulder and he feels something warm drift through him, so minor that it’s a sensation he barely recognizes. Suddenly, the pain seems less harsh, the fear less overwhelming, and the memory of it less fresh. The all-consuming panic that had been winding its way through his veins calms, and he feels like it’s harder to recall all the details he wishes he could forget entirely.
“Thank you,” Spencer says, and Cas smiles at him.
“You are welcome here anytime, Spencer Reid. If you ever come across something you do not understand or cannot explain, you know where to find us. But do not be mistaken that my affection for you will hinder my protection of Dean and my family.”
Spencer is not scared of this, like he thought he would be, but rather finds that he understands and would do the same for his team. “I hold no ill will for Dean or Sam Winchester.” He reassures.
“I am happy to hear that. You should go now,” Cas says, letting his hand fall back down to his side. “By the time you return, your team will have found the suspect in his motel room and will have apprehended him before he can hurt anyone else. You can rest well tonight."
Spencer doesn’t know how Cas knows this, but he will later find out that it is true. Morgan will tease him about missing all the action, and Hotch will inquire about what kept him for so long, but ultimately, when Spencer goes to sleep that night, it will be the first night of many that he sleeps without nightmares.