Castiel groaned, slowly opening his eyes and soaking in the golden sunlight filtering in through the nearest window. The rays spread tendrils of warmth across his outstretched limbs, illuminating the hairs on his legs and the pale tone of his skin. He drew in a deep breath, the scent of frying bacon filling his nostrils and causing him to salivate in anticipation.
Surprisingly, the covers were lying on the floor, somehow shoved aside in the middle of the night. His one arm was wrapped loosely around a pillow, fingers splayed across the soft white fabric, while the other was tucked beneath the pillow under his head, his hand slightly numb from the pressure. He lazily stretched out his fingers, pulling his hand out and resting it on the small triangle of exposed skin near the waistband of his boxers. He inhaled the delicious smell of cooking meat once more before sitting up, rotating his head as he sat up to crack his neck.
His cerulean eyes swept across the room, taking in the surprisingly beautiful view of his bedroom in the early morning light. Everything seemed brighter bathed in sunlight, from the normally dark wood of his furniture to the pair of black shoes sitting at the end of his bed. The whole scene was intoxicating, beckoning Cas to lie back down and bury himself in the comforting warmth of his mattress for another couple hours.
Cas sighed and glanced back down at the pillow he had had cradled against his chest, taking a double take after catching a glance of what seemed like a slip of paper. Curiously, he picked it up and held it close to his face.
I know what you’re thinking right now. As tempting as it may be, please don’t go back to sleep. Your breakfast will get cold again. Dean.
He grinned, chuckling softly and running his thumb across the hunter’s hastily scrawled message. Sometimes he found Dean’s maternal nature to be frustrating. And sometimes he found it to be downright adorable.
Dean had been very concerned about how Cas would adjust to his life as a human. Ever since they had reunited, he found himself monitoring the fallen angel's every move. To his delight, Cas seemed to be enjoying his time in the bunker.
Frequently, he liked to watch Dean cook, peering over his shoulder and carefully focusing on the way he sliced, diced, minced, and mixed. He also spent his time watching Sam research, sitting across the table and asking little questions here and there about how he knew where to look for the proper information. All in all, he seemed content and much more relaxed.
That is until the day Dean was severely injured during a hunt.
Everything had been going smoothly, the three hunters (Cas liked to think of himself as an honorary hunter now) had easily invaded the vampire nest they had been monitoring for the past couple days.
"Now, remember to be quiet, Cas. We don’t want them to-"
Suddenly, Dean was flying through the air, sailing backwards and smashing into the wall behind him. He sank to the floor, his vision becoming blurry and his head spinning as he fell.
"Dean!" a voice yelled, full of pain and fear. Sounds like Cas, Dean thought with a weak chuckle, his ability to think clearly quickly slipping away. He struggled to keep his eyes open, the vague image of Castiel violently stabbing his attacker in the chest swimming before his eyes before everything went black.
——————————————————————————
Dean felt like he had been hit by a train. He had the worst headache, worse than any hangover headache he had ever experienced, and his body felt as if it were falling apart. What the hell happned to me? he wondered groggily. Without warning, he was assaulted by a flood of images. He saw he, Sam, and Cas entering the vampire nest; Sam remarking that it seemed too easy; Cas being too loud; the face of a very pissed vampire- oh shit.
If the pain and the realization that he had been stupid enough to get injured wasn’t bad enough, the sound of heartbreaking sobs was the icing on the fucking cake. Someone was crying and- Dean noted- holding him while they sobbed. A set of arms were wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling him against their chest and carding shaking fingers through his hair.
Slowly, he began to open his eyes, silently thanking the low lighting of the room he was in. His room. As his surroundings came into focus, though, he felt his heart shatter. Cas.
The fallen angel’s eyes were clenched shut, teardrops caught in his eyelashes. His lips were parted and his body shook with the force of his whimpering mewls of sorrow. He looked positively ruined.
"Cas," Dean managed to whisper, the name coming out more slurred than he had hoped. Castiel’s eyes flew open, his piercing blue gaze peering down at him as if his awakening was the most incredible event in human history.
"Dean," Cas sighed, pulling his fingers out of Dean’s hair, “you don’t know how happy I am to hear your voice again."
Dean smiled, ignoring the small tingle of pleasure he felt at Castiel’s admission. He had more important things to worry about right now.
Cas’s relieved face suddenly crumpled. His eyes were filled with so much anguish and raw emotion that Dean was sure he was going to vomit.
"Dean," he whimpered, his hands reaching out to desperately grasp his shoulders, "it was awful. You were just laying there, and I ran over to heal you. I pressed my fingers to your forehead a-and nothing happened. I was so confused at first but-"
Now his body really began to tremble, tears racing down his face and dripping onto Dean's clothes. Okay, he definitely was going to spew chunks here in a couple seconds.
"I couldn't heal you, Dean," he cried, "I forgot that I wasn't an angel anymore a-and I can't protect you now. D-Dean I can't-"
"Stop," Dean interrupted softly, reaching a shaky hand up to Cas's chest. He clutched at the lapels of his trench coat, having just enough strength to pull the fallen angel a little closer. "Stop."
Instead of replying, Cas lifted Dean and wrapped him more securely in his arms. He rested his head on the hunter's shoulder, nuzzling his face against his neck and breathing out a long, shaky sigh.
"I'm so sorry, Dean," Cas whispered, clutching at the hunter as if he were the only thing keeping him from drifting away.
"You have nothing to be sorry about," Dean replied gently, closing his eyes and inhaling the comforting smell of his room and the familiar scent of Cas's trench coat.
He would help Cas adjust to his life as a human if it was the last thing he did.
Okay so maybe choosing to work at a coffee shop wasn’t the best idea for a guy who loved coffee as much as Castiel. It had made sense to apply for the job considering his love for the rich, warm drink, but now he was beginning to think it was really just a way for him to torture himself. The enticing aroma filled the little shop, silently begging him to just keep one cup of coffee for himself. But, as his boss, Gabe, had emphasized, “the coffee’s for the customers, buddy, anything you drink is coming out of your paycheck."
Castiel didn’t have much money so he couldn’t afford to just pick up a pot of the liquid heaven and gulp it down. No matter how tempting it may be, it was his first day and getting caught breaking the rules that quickly would certainly be bad.
He stood leaning up against the counter, his eyes scanning the empty room in hopes that someone would finally walk in. His shift had begun at the ungodly hour of six in the morning, and he had been left to aimlessly pace behind the counter for the past hour. Well, this is going to be so much fun, Cas thought with a snort.
A small ding suddenly broke the silence, indicating that someone had walked in. Cas jumped a little, quickly straightening up and running his hands over the front of his shirt to smooth out the wrinkles. He was supposed to look presentable after all.
When Cas glanced up to see who had just saved him from his boredom, he let out a surprised gasp. It was a good thing he had tried to change his zombie-like appearance. The guy who had walked in was hot.
Alright, so Castiel wasn’t one to openly stare at someone or ogle them. In fact, the few friends he had always teased him for being shy, unaware of the fact that he was nervous around women because he had a feeling that he wasn’t completely straight.
The man was a few inches taller than Cas with short, golden brown hair and piercing green eyes. He had broad shoulders and the confident stride of someone who was used to being acknowledged for his appearance. As Castiel was unashamedly doing right now.
He approached the counter, his emerald eyes glancing around the room before coming to rest on the thin, anxious-looking boy watching him. His lips turned up into a crooked smirk, his demeanor resembling that of a predator stalking it’s defenseless prey.
Castiel swallowed nervously, averting his gaze away from the male model sauntering his way over to take his order. As the man continued to focus his attention solely on him, he began to wonder when the room had gotten to be so unbearably hot.
"Hey there… Castiel," the man began, his deep, gravelly voice sending excited shivers up Cas’s spine as he read his name tag, “I’ll have the usual."
Cas blinked. “I’m sorry, I don’t know-"
"Oh, that’s right," he chuckled, “you’re new. I’ll just take a venti Americano, please. You know, the good stuff."
Castiel laughed weakly, finally chancing a glance at the other man. At this proximity, he could make out the array of freckles dotting his nose and the soft skin of his cheeks below each of his eyes. He had the biggest damn grin on his face, and when their eyes met, he fucking winked at him. Oh shit.
"Oh yeah," he replied, his voice becoming embarrassingly high pitched, “the Americano is a classic. It’s my favorite because it keeps the coffee’s rich flavor. The milk or cream added to the other drinks always masks the flavor."
The man tilted his head to the side and rested his hands on the counter. “Wow, they need more guys like you working here. You seem like you know your coffee, damn."
Cas felt his cheeks redden. He felt the sudden urge to throw himself across the counter and kiss the hell out of the guy, twisting his fingers in the short hairs at the back of his head and running his tongue across the soft flesh of his lower lip. He smiled and nodded before quickly turning on his heels, anxious to start brewing the green-eyed man’s drink to distract himself.
The heavenly scent of brewing coffee filled the air, effectively drawing Castiel’s attention away from the temptation leaning up against the counter only a few feet away. He breathed in the intoxicating aroma, pushing all of his crazy fantasies to the back of his mind.
A couple minutes later, the little red light on the machine began flashing. Cas inhaled once more before opening his eyes and pouring the dark liquid into a cup. He turned back to face his waiting customer, blue eyes meeting expectant emerald eyes. The man grinned and straightened up.
"Smells good," he called, watching Cas make his way over with his drink.
"Mhm," Cas mumbled in agreement, setting the warm cup on the counter and entering the order into the cash register. He purposely avoided looking at the brunette, knowing full well that one more glance would just add fuel to his surprisingly creative imagination.
"$5.30," Castiel announced, reaching out to grab the money from the other man’s grasp. As he gripped the bills, his fingers brushed against the brunette's calloused fingers. His eyes widened, flinching and pulling the money away from the man’s grip as if he had been shocked.
They locked eyes for a split second before looking away. Cas quickly gathered the man’s change and set it down on the counter, worried about what would happen if their skin accidentally touched again.
"Have a nice-"
"Hold up," the brunette interrupted, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a small card, “if you ever need a lawyer, you know who to call. Or if you just ever want someone to talk to. Here."
He laid the card down on the counter and flashed Cas another dazzling grin. “Bye, Cas," he purred, dropping all of the change into the Tip jar before turning and strutting out the door.
Castiel’s jaw dropped, warmth pooling in the pit of his stomach and spreading throughout his body. He had given him a nickname. Cas. When he finally regained the ability to move, he picked up the card and skimmed over the information.
"Winchester & Winchester Ltd. Dean Winchester." A phone number and address were also neatly displayed at the bottom of the card.
"Dean," Cas muttered, liking the way the name sounded as it passed across his lips. An image of he and Dean sitting down at one of the tables in the shop, talking animatedly and drinking two perfectly prepared Americanos flashed before his eyes. He could just imagine the way Dean’s lips would look as they pressed to the rim of his cup, the warm liquid gliding down his throat…
"Hey, buddy," Gabe trilled, his excited voice pulling Cas out of his trance, “looks like you met one of our regulars!"
Castiel just nodded his head, turning his head away in an attempt to hide the pink flush on his cheeks.
"Oh geez," the shorter man sighed, rolling his eyes, "you're already in love with the guy, I can tell. That always seems to happen to my newbies."
Cas's head jerked up, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights. "Was it really that obvious?" he asked softly, chancing a glance at his boss.
"It's okay," Gabe chuckled, patting him on the back, "he was the one hitting on you. Besides, you should be proud."
He leaned in close, ignoring the confused expression on Castiel's face as he whispered in his ear, "you're the only one who's managed to get his card and an invitation."
Another prompt from Molly! I changed it a little bit, but basically, Dean teaches Cas how to use the internet, and then decides to grab some pie, leaving the recently fallen angel to uncover some startling information...
“You seem like you’ve got the hang of it,” Dean praised, reaching down and patting Cas on the back. For the past couple weeks, he had taken on the task of teaching the fallen angel how to use the internet even though he hadn’t really considered it before, worried about what Cas would find or learn. It had taken a particularly convincing puppy dog face to convince him, quickly concluding that the easiest place to practice would be in the main room of the bunker and that, to Sam’s dismay, they would use his laptop.
Cas smiled up at him, face lighting up in pure excitement. “Really?” he asked, twinkling ocean blue eyes gazing up at Dean from below thick eyelashes. He grinned in return, unable to escape the fallen angel’s contagious enthusiasm.
“Yeah, buddy, you seem like you’ve got the basics down now,” he chuckled softly, affectionately nudging Cas’s shoulder with his elbow, “Just remember what I said about not believing everything you read. Hey, you know what, I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go grab some pie since Sammy finally decided to buy me one.”
He flashed the fallen angel one more smile before heading towards the kitchen. Cas watched his retreating form, entranced by the way he carried himself with an air of confidence and self-assurance, the way his arms swayed by his side, the way his shoulder blades shifted under the thin fabric of his shirt, the way his hips moved with every step. He was reminded yet again of why he found Dean to be the perfect example of humanity.
He turned back towards the laptop sitting open on the table, Google’s white welcome page staring back at him. Cas found the search engine to be quite incredible and yet somehow intimidating. There was such a vast collection of knowledge waiting to be explored, waiting to be absorbed. Just thinking about it him dizzy.
Thankfully, he had watched Sam enough times to know the correct position for his hands on the keyboard. He carefully moved his fingers into place, hovering nervously above the keys as he wondered what exactly he should search first. Suddenly, it hit him.
Slowly, he typed “Castiel” into the search bar. It seemed only right that he see what the human race thought about him. After pushing the “l” key with his right ring finger, he carefully lowered his hand down to the small touchpad at the bottom of the keyboard. He moved his finger over it as Dean had taught him and pressed on the rectangular gray box labeled “Google search”.
Within seconds, a list of what Dean had called “websites” appeared on the screen. He gasped, startled by the amount of resources available that contained information about himself.
The first listed website caught his attention immediately: “Castiel (Supernatural) - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia”. Encyclopedias always held accurate and helpful information.
He pressed on the blue-lettered link, waiting patiently for the page to load. As the information filled the screen and he started to read, he began to doubt that this Wikipedia was truly an encyclopedia.
The first paragraph in and of itself made no sense at all. Fictional character? The book series Supernatural?
Although he found himself becoming increasingly confused with every word he read, he continued. He stopped, one particular section really piquing his interest. It discussed the characteristics of his supposedly “fictional” self and how he had changed over the years because of his interactions with the Winchesters. One particular line stirred something in his chest, something he didn't quite understand. “Although it has been suggested angels possibly do not possess the ability to truly feel emotion, Castiel frequently exhibits affection towards Dean.”
Yes, that much was true. He did feel affectionate towards Dean, a desire to please him and make sure that he was happy. Smiling, he scrolled down to the bottom of the page, skimming over the rest of the information although it all seemed quite ridiculous considering he was supposed to be the character in a series of novels.
Then, it hit him. The prophet, Chuck Shurley. He had most likely continued to write long after the Winchesters had insisted that he stop. And those particular stories would obviously include him, an integral part of the two hunters’ lives. It would only make sense if someone had later found his writings after his death and published them.
Allowing his curiosity to get the better of him, he returned to Google’s home page and typed “Supernatural by Carver Edlund” into the search bar. Another long list of websites filled the screen, each containing the word “Supernatural” in its title.
The first few didn’t appeal to him for some strange reason, all of them seeming to be similar to the Wikipedia “encyclopedia”. He read several more titles before coming across one that caught his attention. It read “Supernatural message boards- shipping”.
Shipping? Was it referring to the transport of the books through the mail? He quickly pressed the link, Dean’s reminder about believing everything he read echoing distantly in the back of his mind.
A list of what he assumed were different topics for discussion appeared on the screen, listed in order by number of messages, the topic with the most listed first. And it was that particular topic that caused Cas's heart to practically leap out of his chest. "Dean/Castiel's relationship- Destiel"
His tongue darted out to wet his suddenly dry lips, his hand shaking as he moved the cursor over the link. Something about the topic made him anxious, a gut feeling that the people who had responded to the topic didn't believe he and Dean's relationship was strictly platonic.
He was presented with another long list; this time, each response had more substance considering that people were expressing their opinions. Cautiously, he began to read through each response, his heart pounding in his chest and fingers shaking.
People mentioned their "profound bond", the way they looked at each other, the way Cas rebelled against heaven for Dean, the fact that Dean "needed" Cas, and many other things that the fallen angel hadn't really thought about before. The more he read, the more he began to doubt everything he had previously believed about he and the hunter's relationship.
He felt his pulse quicken, nervously biting his lip as questions flooded his mind. Was his rebellion against heaven to assist the hunter really the result of his love for him? Did they really stare at each other longingly while the other's back was turned? Was there something more than friendship between he and Dean?
Suddenly, he froze. He could clearly make out the sound of Dean's footsteps and the soft clinking of silverware against china, indicating that the hunter's quest for pie was successful. "The son of a bitch even bought me apple," he chuckled, the word "apple" muffled by what Cas guessed was a piece of pie wedged in his mouth.
Cas frantically attempted to close the window, concerned that Dean would be angry or confused when he saw what he had been reading. He didn't know why, but he felt as if Dean would view the website as one he shouldn't trust.
He moved the cursor over to the small box with an "x" as Dean had taught him and pressed it. Nothing happened. He pressed it again, and the window still refused to close. No.
"Damn," Dean moaned, his voice now much closer, "Sammy knows me too well."
He was now pounding on the touch pad, feeling dangerously close to vomiting as the window remained open. Dean absolutely couldn't see this, at least not right now.
"You know what, I don't care what you say. You're trying some of this, Cas," Dean announced, his muffled voice close enough now that it was obvious he'd entered the room. Completely out of ideas, Cas slammed the laptop shut, wincing as it closed with a loud thwack.
He turned in his seat, smiling weakly at the very confused hunter standing in the doorway. His lips twisted into a smirk and his brow furrowed, the fork dangling between his fingers with a chunk of apple and crust speared on the tongs. After a couple seconds of silence, Dean chuckled softly and shook his head, making his way over to the skittish fallen angel sitting with his shaking hands resting on top of the laptop.
"What's gotten into you? Did you accidentally come across some hardcore porn or something?" he asked, his smirk changing to a grin as he watched the fallen angel's face redden.
"No," Cas muttered, staring intently at the shiny silver surface of the laptop, "the computer was acting strangely. I became frustrated with it, I apologize."
The fallen angel could feel Dean's gaze focused on the back of his head, the tension in the room building quickly as neither man spoke. Please don't ask me to open up the laptop so you can see if the problem is fixable, Cas silently begged.
Finally, Dean patted him on the back, fingers lightly skimming his shoulder blades as he pulled his hand away. "Oh well, it's Sam's stupid laptop anyway. I guess I'll just have to pull up a chair so you can tell me all about what you had time to read."
Alright, everyone, the lovely Jenna and I have decided to write our first multichap fic together! This is the first part, and I will make sure to link every part in each new addition so that you can go back and catch up if you decide you would like to read it! Here's a brief summary for the first part:
Words: 2,398
Summary: A few weeks following the expulsion of the angels from heaven, Dean and Sam receive an urgent message from Charlie concerning something they "might want back". (SPN verse, following the Season 8 finale)
Dean awoke to the high pitched ding that was his text alert noise. He rolled over, rubbing harshly at his sleep-heavy eyes as he felt around in the pitched black for his phone. When he finally got a grip on it, he ripped the phone from the charger and flipped it open.
Dean, I have something you might want back. Meet me at Conner’s Diner at noon. - Charlie
Dean groaned as he checked the clock. 3:30. If they were gonna make it to St. Louis by noon, they would have to leave now. He forced himself up off the memory foam mattress and began padding toward his brother’s room. When he reached the slightly cracked door, he pushed it open, peeking his head through. “Sammy,” he called, effectively waking his brother up. Sam sat up with a jolt, looking at Dean with wide questioning eyes. “Get your stuff. We’re leaving.” He left before Sam could ask any questions.
The Impala was loaded and ready to go by 4. Throughout their packing, Sam had asked Dean over and over what this was about, but he had replied with the same vague answer every time; “Charlie needs us.” Sam decided to finish up his night of sleep when he realized Dean wasn’t going to budge.
They made it to Conner’s just before noon, noting the absence of Charlie’s car. Dean figured, in the mean time, he could grab a burger, which he had once claimed were better than sex. Dean reached over and shook Sammy awake, causing a whine from the younger of the two. “Come on, sleeping beauty. That’s 8 hours. You’re rested.” It took Sam a moment to shake off his sleepiness and then they headed inside.
Charlie showed up at 12 o’clock on the dot, her presence noted by the tinkling of the bells on the door. The brothers looked up simultaneously and motioned her over, noting how exhausted she looked. She slid into the booth next to Dean, watching him eat carnivorously. “These burgers,” he began, through a mouthful, “better tha-”
“Better than sex,” Charlie finished and was given two very suspicious stares. “Read the books, duh,” she shot back. “Anyway, that’s not why I’m here. Dean, Sam, there’s something you should see. Come with me.” The brothers frowned and followed her out but not before leaving a twenty on the table or Dean without the other half of his sandwich.
Charlie led them out to her small, silver Prius (Dean practically had to bite his tongue to keep from saying anything mean about the car) and opened up the back seat door. Sprawled out across the backseat was a very frail and beaten up looking Castiel. Sam’s eyes widened and Dean practically choked on the current bite of his sandwich. “Cas,” he blurted before Charlie could quiet him. Cas laid on the leather seats unmoving, but looking ever so peaceful. “He’s not…” Dean trailed off, unable to finish his sentence. Charlie shook her head though. “No, just sleeping.” She closed the door softly so they could continue talking.
“I found him on the side of the road. I was heading up to my lady friend’s house in Michigan when I saw this thing just lying there. I got out to see what it was and I just knew. I mean, how many guys are walking around in tan trench coats any more? I knew it was Castiel, so I loaded him into the back seat of my car and texted you right after. Also, dude is a lot heavier than he looks. You try carrying an unconscious angel to your car in the middle of the night. I got a lot of weird looks from passer-byers, so you’re welcome, about twelve people think I’m a serial killer.”
“Wait, wait wait,” Sam said, stopping her. “How did you know he was unconscious and not…”
“He was still warm,” she replied. “It was like he had just passed out there or something. It couldn’t have been too long before I found him. Anyway, we were driving along and I heard this noise, like a whimpering of sorts, so I pulled over and there he was, big blue eyes staring up at me. So, I told him who I was and said that I was bringing him to you two. Now, here we are.”
Dean was absolutely floored. Cas was here! Cas was alive! Cas was here and alive! Cas was- “Dean,” a soft yet familiar voice echoed, ripping him from his thoughts. There stood Castiel, leaning heavily against the car. His eyes were unfocused and his knees were shaking, not at all like the poised, perfect angel he had grown to know and love. “Cas,” he replied, voice breathy with surprise. “I- You- How-” He didn’t know what to say. There was so much to say, but he couldn’t think of a damn thing right now.
Castiel didn’t utter a single word as he lifted his free arm that wasn’t clinging to the car and pointed straight at Dean. Dean was slightly taken aback as he looked to Sam and Charlie for answers, but neither of them understood either. “Wha- What is it, Cas,” he finally asked.
“That’s a burger,” Castiel murmured, eyes on the half-sandwich in Dean’s hand.
Dean frowned, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Y-yes, Cas. This is a burger.”
“I want it,” he deadpanned and Dean couldn’t help but be totally lost. Cas had just been found half-dead on the side of the road and all he could think about was food? But who was Dean to deny him that little bit of happiness if that’s what he wanted. This past year was hard on all of them, so he slowly approached the angel and placed the sandwich in his hand.
Castiel didn’t even acknowledge Dean as he tore into the burger, eating it just as messily and sloppily as Dean himself. The three couldn’t help but watch the strange behavior and were all definitely more than a little nervous. “So uhh Cas… what happened to you?” Dean finally asked.
Cas’s head was lolling around when it finally stopped and he looked up to Dean. He was definitely not himself. “Metatron,” he finally said, “He took my grace. The angels fell. I’m human.” He spoke so matter-of-factly, like this was something that happened every day.
Charlie was the most shocked out of all of them. “Wait, that wasn’t in-” but Sam quieted her.
Dean swallowed and looked into Cas’s eyes in an effort to make them focus, rather than rolling around in his head. “So… how are you feeling? Are you okay,” he asked slowly, trying to find any sort of hints in Cas’s facial expression.
Cas was silent for another minute before he spoke. “I have to use the bathroom… rather badly.” He pushed away from the car as if forgetting that he could barely stand before his knees gave out and he fell to the ground. “Cas,” Dean yelled, failing to catch him. He knelt down beside the angel-turned-human, waiting for some kind of reaction.
Then, in a very Cas-like manner, Dean heard it, clear as day. “Son of a bitch,” he uttered, pushing himself up off the ground, and Dean couldn’t help the small smile that graced his lips.
Dean had decided to ride back home with Charlie and Cas, reluctantly allowing Sam to drive his baby alone. And it certainly didn’t take long for him to realize that he’d made the wrong decision.
To start off Dean’s lovely ride through hell, Cas fainted on his way back out to the car. He had only taken a few steps after leaving the diner before he dropped to the ground, eyes rolling back in his head and body going limp like a rag doll. Dean ran over, cursing under his breath as he leaned over to lift the fallen angel, learning quickly that Charlie was right about the bastard being heavy.
“Again? Really?” Charlie cried, peeking her head out of the driver’s side window, “We better get him back to your place quick and figure out what the hell’s wrong with him.”
“I know, I know, just give me a minute. You said it yourself- this son of a bitch is heavier than he looks,” Dean called back, slowly trudging his way over to the waiting car.
“I told you,” she chuckled, shaking her head and grinning, “but I think you’ve got it under control. Carrying a dreamy angel like that bridal style seems to be the way to go.” And then she had the nerve to fucking wink at him.
“Yeah, whatever,” he growled, throwing open the door to the backseat and trying to ignore Charlie’s laughter. He carefully laid Cas down on the backseat, placing him carefully so that his head rested against the armrest of the door while his legs could comfortably stay stretched out.
Before shutting the door, he took the time to really take in the fallen angel’s appearance. His typical trench coat seemed rattier than usual, the soles of his shoes showed more scuff marks and small tears were visible near the bottom of each pant leg. Dark circles under each of his eyes stood out against his pale skin and a small cut ran across the bridge of his nose. However, there was one detail that Dean thankfully found to be the same: his navy blue tie was still backwards. Dean smiled weakly at the sight, knowing full well that there were a lot of details the fallen angel was leaving out of his story, but letting that one little thing settle him for the time being
Dean slammed the door shut, coming around and throwing himself down into the passenger seat. He tried to put on his best poker face, keeping his gaze focused forward and lips set into a thin line. He couldn’t let Charlie know how worried he really was or he’d never hear the end of it. Chick flick moments were really beginning to dominate his life despite his constantly vocal stance against them.
Charlie was staring at him, eyebrows raised and lips twisted into a concerned frown. When Dean refused to acknowledge her leering gaze, she sighed and turned back to look at the road. She shook her head, hands gripping the steering wheel much too tightly as she began to drive.
After several seconds of awkward, oppressive silence, she finally spoke up. “So… Castiel certainly is as hot as I imagined he’d-“
“Just shut up,” Dean snarled, sending a quick glare in her direction and crossing his arms over his chest.
“Jesus Christ, Dean, calm down,” Charlie retorted angrily, “All I’m saying is that he’s pretty easy on the eyes. Well, for a dude.”
Dean rolled his eyes and turned to look out the window instead. The pavement streaked by, yellow lines and trees blurring before his eyes. Small houses sat comfortably in the middle of acres of lush grass, some with classic brick red barns nearby and cattle milling aimlessly about in carefully fenced-off pastures. The sky seemed impossibly blue, only a few, wispy clouds hanging here and there. It was all so peaceful, so easy, so alluring.
“Whatever,” he muttered, face still turned away from the redhead at the wheel. He could sense that there was something Charlie was trying to get him to say. He had no clue what it was, but he sure as hell didn’t want to think too hard about it.
Silence filled the little car, seeming to press in from every direction and crush Dean. He longed for the strangely comforting atmosphere the bunker provided, the feeling of being at home. The quicker they could get there, the better.
“You know,” Charlie sighed, “he said something to me as I was sticking him in the car.”
Dean turned quickly, his curiosity getting the better of him. “And what’s that?”
Charlie chuckled softly, glancing over at Dean’s inquisitive stare. “Well, at the time, I thought it was a little weird, but it’s starting to make more sense now.”
Well, that piqued his interest.
“I was leaning over to check on him, make sure he was breathing and everything, and he whispered something. Really softly, like I almost didn’t catch it.”
Dean shifted nervously in his seat, eyes focused intently on the redhead. Somehow, he knew what it was before it even passed her lips.
“He said your name,” she muttered, eyes full of concern as she looked over at Dean again. When he failed to respond, staring down at the gear shift as if it were the most interesting thing in the world, she charged on without even pausing to take a breath.
“Yeah, I thought it was pretty weird. So, of course, I didn’t know how to take it or anything. I mean, I knew immediately that he must be Castiel with the trench coat, but the second he said your name, I was sure-“
“Stop,” Dean whispered, still averting his gaze as he spoke, “just stop, okay? Don’t make a big deal out of this. He probably just figured it must be Sam or I since we usually are the ones to find his ass after he magically comes back to life.”
Charlie pursed her lips, failing to nod her head or agree in any way. It wasn’t the response she was looking for and he knew it.
Suddenly, a small whimper came from the backseat. Dean quickly turned in his chair, protective nature taking over and eclipsing all of his other current concerns.
Cas’s nose was scrunched up and eyes squeezed tightly shut. His lips parted slightly as he let out another little mewl of discomfort, body shifting so that he could lay on his side. “Dean,” he whimpered softly, pulling his legs in closer to his chest.
Dean watched in horror, hoping that maybe he had just heard him wrong. His mind had been known to play tricks on him after all.
“Dean,” the fallen angel sighed, his face relaxing and lips turning up into a small smile. He rolled over on to his other side, nuzzling against the leather of the seat cushions and letting out another content sigh.
Dean swallowed anxiously, turning back around. He purposely refused to make eye contact with Charlie as he turned, trying to ignore the smug smile on her face.
