Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

This part of town in Lebanon, Kansas is always the busiest around Friday and Saturday nights. Why shouldn’t it be? It was the end of the working week. People deserve to let off a little steam in their ordinary day lives, or even if it was just a place to escape from their personal issues at home. Dean doesn't have a problem with any of those reasons. He just wished he wasn't trying to find a monster in a crowded bar full of wasted people.

And, Dear Lord, the music was awful.

Since when were pre-teens into electro-dance pop and rap? When was that even considered real music? Wow, he was either getting old or the world had gone bat-shit crazy and, from the way these kids were acting, Dean had to go for the latter.

People are bat-shit crazy.

Dean stayed by the edge of the bar, but that didn't stop people from bumping and elbowing into him. To be fair, there were some beautiful ladies around the place, but he was going on the presumption that if she was into this club music than she was a no go. The last thing he needed was jail bait giving him a free ticket to prison and, from the way all the girls were going nuts on the dance floor, it looked like Dean was going home alone tonight.

That was fine. He had work to do.

Dean took a sip of his beer. It was getting warm now from the sheer humidity in the room, meaning the refreshing chill was gone. All it left was a bitter taste in his mouth and he couldn't help but grimace at it. Dean wasn't here for a good time. If he was it would have been a bummer. He gave one more look around the room again — besides the groups of people making ridiculous moves on the dance floor, there were other smaller groups laughing about with friends, or girls twirling their hair and winking at some of the guys from far away… and there would be some in the darker areas of the room practically dry humping each other and trying to eat the other’s face.

And then there was Cas.

Cas looked like he was a fish out of water — or an angel with the most primitive of humans? Anyway, the poor guy looked like he was drowning in it all from the far end of the bar, and Dean felt sorry for the guy. He would be by his side, but they couldn't afford to be seen together. The demon they were hunting would bolt the moment they saw Dean in cahoots with an angel and that would just put their plan into shitsville. It had taken them weeks to get them to this point, and they weren’t even one hundred percent sure that the damn demon would even show up. Dean really doesn't want to come back to this club again. It smells like teen angst and cider.

But he had to give it to the demon; getting people to sell their souls while completely wasted was easy business.

Just imagine what they would wish for…

Dean couldn't help but smile at the hilarious possibilities.

But perfect timing had his phone ringing from his pocket and glancing at the caller ID told him it was Cas' number. He’s not sure how calling from inside a crowded bar was going to work, but he answered the call anyway.

“What up, Cas?”

Cas had to shout on his end, and that made his gravelly voice deeper than Dean has ever heard it before. “Dean, I should leave.”

“Why? I need my right hand man.”

“What? I’m not on your right.”

“It’s an expression… never mind. And you can’t leave yet. I need you for later on.”

“But must I be here? This place is crawling with so much immorality and gratuity that I highly doubt even a blessing will make it holy again.”

Dean raised his eyebrows with a cheeky grin. “Castiel, did you just make a joke?”

Cas sounded confused. “No. Dean, I wish to leave. This place is making me extremely uncomfortable. There was a woman who whispered things into my ear.”

“Were they sweet whispers?”

“I’m not completely sure, but I assume it was of sexual nature. She proceeded to grab my behind when she leaned in close enough.”

Dean shouldn't have laughed but it was funny. The unamused humph he heard from the other end only made him laugh even harder. “This is not humorous to me, Dean.”

“I - I’m not laughing,” Dean cleared his throat, suppressing the giggles raising from his throat. “Just give it ten more minutes, and if you still want to leave then I will let you go wait in the Impala. I’ll call you if I see the demon. Fair deal?”

The angel sounded relieved. “Fair deal. Thank you, Dean.”

Dean hung up, a smile on his lips. He downed the remains of his stale beer in one impressive gulp, which he regretted instantly. It tasted like a sour old sock that was left out in the sun too long… not that Dean has tried that. He’s only assuming that’s what it would taste like. He began playing with the empty glass in his hand, spinning it around on the bar table, just for him to do something. He couldn’t risk looking around the club too much. It could alert the demon that something was up.

Instead, he gave a glance towards the angel again, and the poor guy looked like he was ready to bolt out the door. He was keeping his head down and averting eye contact from everyone, and after that encounter with the cougar, Dean couldn't blame him, but that didn't help with his uneasiness. Cas body language was stiff and tense, and he must be the only person in the room with a stick up his ass. Poor guy. Clubs definitely weren't his scene, but then again, he never did claim to be the type.

The bartender came and took his empty glass from Dean’s hand. “Anything else I can get you, sir?”

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks,” Dean took out a few dollars for his drink and gave it to the barman. He gave one more glance towards the angel, his sympathy getting the better of him. He took a cursory look at the man serving him, taking note of his physical appearance. He reminded him of one of those beach boy models with the sun kissed skin and ruffled blond hair and, from what he could see from the tight fitted black shirt he was wearing, he had a fit body as well. His arms were muscled, meaning he worked out regularly, and he wasn’t too bad on the eye either. Dean and noticed from the moment he came in how many of the girls in the club have been eyeing him up, but so far he hadn't been paying them attention. Too busy working. It was a busy night after all.

Sparing one more look at Cas, Dean grabbed a ten dollar bill from his other pocket and handed it to the Beach Boy Bartender. “Just one other thing; that guy over there. My buddy in the trench coat? Get him a drink on me.”

Beach Boy gave him a knowing smile. This probably wasn't the first time he's heard a request like this. “Will do.”

There was no point in correcting him. It wasn't like he was ever going to see him again, and it was the least he could do for the angel. Beach Boy went over to Cas, and the his eyes landed over to Dean. The hunter gave him a thumbs up, and in return he got a shy smile from the angel. In the end, he bought what looked like a daiquiri with ten of those little umbrellas. The surprise on his face was worth the ten bucks. It wasn't often Dean got to see that.

But his attention was soon taken away.

The blondie in the pink dress by the rest rooms eyes had changed black.

Dean gripped hold of his knife from inside his jacket pocket.

Show time.

It was an easy job in the end. A quick stab in the chest, demon dead within a few seconds, and he would be able to get back to the Bunker just in time for a Dr. Sexy re-run marathon and a couple of beers.

But for some reason it was taking Cas ages for him to finally leave the club, even though Cas usually answered his phone immediately when anyone was calling, even faster if it was Dean. He was always anal about things like punctuality. So where the hell was he?

Finally, Dean saw Cas emerge from the crowds lining up to get into the club. Dean clocked the fact he was holding a piece of paper in his hand, but he was tired, hungry and he wanted to go home, so he never paid much attention to it. He wasn't the most patient of people, but when he has to wait longer than he should, combined with his hunger — it just made him downright cranky. “Dude, I called you fifteen minutes ago. Where the hell have you been?”

Cars looked a little guilty at Dean. “My apologies. There was something that… occupied my attention.”

It turns out Dean didn't have the patience for Cas’ riddles. “And what? Was there a two for one sale on Tequila shots?”

Cas cocked his head in confusion. “No. It was on cranberry vodka.”

Dean was going to correct him, say it was only a figure of speech, but there was no point in arguing with the angel. “It doesn't matter. Can we go now?”

Dean didn't even wait for Cas’ answer and promptly made his way to the Impala. He had her parked far away from the club — he didn't need a demon being told he was in the neighbourhood from just his car - It’s become the Winchester trademark — and to keep her safe from drunken idiots. He hadn't realised that Cas wasn't by his side until he actually got to the car until the flutter of wings caught his attention. Cas was standing by the passenger side, looking like he was mulling something over in his head.

“Are you okay, Cas?”

“I was thinking, perhaps I should return to the premises on a later date. To ascertain that the demon is truly vanquished.”

Odd. Cas never did follow up checks once a case was finished. In fact, neither did Dean, so where was this interest coming from all of a sudden? The hunter didn't care what the answer was at that moment. He was thinking about the left over pie he still had from last night to reheat and a bed just begging to be reacquainted with him. So he just shrugged it off. “Okay, José.”

“My name is not José,” Cas replied.

“That’s not — never mind. Come on, let’s go home.”

Without a word, the angel slipped into the passenger seat, Dean in the driver’s and they drove back to the Bunker.

Okay, Dean was not going to lie, and it wasn't like it was a huge secret. Cas has always been a little eccentric and peculiar, even in comparison to his angel family, but recently… Cas has been acting odd.

Besides his weird socially awkward mannerisms that screamed Castiel, Angel of the Lord, there was something different about him. Nothing huge, but… Dean couldn’t put his finger on it. It’s just ever since that case at the club, Cas has been… he’s been more… he was off. He was more… Castiel?

What the fuck am I talking about? Dean thought.

It had to be when Dean was driving back from a hunt in Illinois with Sam that the subject was finally brought up, but that was the last thing on his mind… and Sam viewed it very differently from the way his brother saw it.

It was a simple werewolf case, but before they could figure that out they had called in for some reinforcements and got Cas involved, but a great help he was not. He spent most of the time answering his phone than providing any type of answers during the whole hunt. Dean didn't mention anything, but in hindsight, he should’ve asked what had Cas so preoccupied. When the case was closed and the wolf dead, Cas flew away as fast as he could, citing he had a 'prior engagement' and left, without further explanation. Dean didn't know what to think of that, but he just wanted to get home. They were half way there on the highway when Dean noticed his brother smirking to himself, and glancing over at Dean occasionally, which freaked him the hell out.

After a few minutes, Dean had to know what was going on. “What are you smiling about?”

“Nothing.”

Dean wasn't buying that. “Sam? Spill the beans, why are you looking so smug?”

“Nothing… it’s just… Cas has been on his phone all day,” Sam teased. He kept giving Dean these little sideways glances and smirks like there was this huge inside joke they were part of, but it made Dean more confused than before.

He was hoping his brother would elaborate a little further. “Yeah?”

“He got a lot of text messages.”

That wasn’t elaborating, Sammy, Dean thought. “Okay?”

“And he seemed… very happy.”

Is this conversation just going to be an exchange of puzzling sentences? “Sam, what are you trying to say?”

“I’m not saying anything, but I know the only people Cas has on his contacts are you and me, and he definitely was not texting me.”

“He wasn't texting me, either.”

Sam wasn't convinced. “Okay.”

“He wasn’t," Dean argued.

“Whatever you say. But if you want to know, Cas seemed very happy. Very, very happy.”

“Sam, I’m serious. I haven’t sent a text to Cas in days. It wasn't me.”

Sam just smirked again, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright. If that’s what you're going with. It was just a coincidence that Cas got those messages when you weren't in the room.”

“Sam—”

“It doesn't matter. I can wait. Until you're ready to tell me.”

“Ready about what?” Dean huffed.

Dean was getting sick of his brother’s cryptic messages, but Sam only smiled in response. “I’ll just say this; the way Cas was smiling at his phone every time he got a text… it was the same dopey smile I had whenever Jessica texted me. I’ll let you figure out the rest.”

The rest of the ride home was left in silence. Dean was pleased with that. He’d rather have the silence than Sam’s craziness.

It turned out Sam was on to something.

He just got the wrong person.

They realised this when they were in the Bunker. Sam was researching tome after tome of lore whilst Dean was… well, he was meant to be helping, but instead he ended up playing Candy Crush on his phone and chugging down a cool beer. He can’t remember when Castiel came by. He had been living with them on/off for a while now — he would be there for a few days and then not be seen at all for the next few, so it wasn't unusual. The angel always called whenever he thought there was something that caught his attention, or whether there was a possible case for them to investigate, but today Cas had decided to just hang around.

“Find anything, Sammy?” Dean mumbled.

“No,” Sam replied. “But if you would actually help out then we might get somewhere.”

“Yeah, but you’re so good at all that research stuff, why not let you be the one to shift through it all?”

“I hate you,” Sam huffed.

“And I love you,” Dean gave an obnoxious smile which made Sam scowl, to Dean’s amusement.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother and turned to the angel. “Cas, can you tell him? ... Cas? Castiel?”

The angel’s head snapped up at the voice, wide eyed and surprised at being spoken to. He was too caught up in his phone to notice Sam was talking to him. “Yes?”

“Ignore him, Cas. Sammy is being a baby,” Dean teased, casually tossing his phone onto the table. “I’m outta lives. You guys want a beer?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

There was no point in asking if Cas wanted one, with him being an angel and all, never having to sleep, drink or eat. If you take those little equations out of Dean’s life he would be a very boring person. What the hell did Cas do with all his free time? Fly around and worship the bees? Dean really should ask him sometime, and he was going to ask when he came back from the kitchen, but once he came back he noticed something was off.

Sam was staring at Cas with a wide eyed look, switching it from between Dean and the angel. Cas didn't seem to be aware of Sam’s unusual behaviour. He was too busy texting on his phone with intent interest. Armageddon could break out around him and he wouldn't notice.

“Um, hey, Cas,” Sam announced abruptly, looking back between him and his brother. “Could you go get a book for me? I left it in the basement by accident.”

Cas looked confused at the gesture but he agreed nonetheless. “Of course. Where in the basement?”

“By the weapons. Thank you.”

The angel couldn't fly in the Bunker. There was only so much he could do with their new and improved Enochian sigils protecting them, so Cas had to walk down the flights of stairs to the basement. Sam kept his eye on Cas as he walked away, but Dean didn't understand what the hell was going on.

“Sam, what was that crap you just pulled? You never take books to the basement, why did you —

The door to the basement slammed shut and Cas was definitely out of the room, Sam lunged across the table. “Dude, what are you doing?!” Dean protested.

It turned out Cas had left his phone on the table and Sam was reaching for it quickly. The phone binged to life and there was something on it that caught his interest. He stared at the message for a long time, like his eyes were not believing what he was reading.

Dean began to fidget in his seat, the silence making him feel antsy. “What was that?”

Sam immediately dropped the phone onto the table. “Nothing.”

“Sam, what is it?” Dean persisted.

“It’s nothing. Dean, wait—!”

Dean was taking none of it and grabbed for the phone, pushing Sam’s hand away when he tried to get it back, but it was too late. Dean had already seen what it was.

It was a text message. Castiel’s phone settings enabled him to see the text without logging in, so Dean could read it as clear as day without the angel ever knowing. The screen lit up, and Dean wished to God that he didn't read it. He really wished he didn't.

Its been a long day and i am countng the hours until tonite :) Cant wait to see u l8r handsome ;) xxx

Dean stared dumbly at the message like it was Satan itself, and it might as well be. They were no big deal. Just a couple of words, but what the fuck? What the fuck? Who the hell is Cas talking to? Dean’s eyes flickered to contact name and finally got his answer.

Glenn.

…

Who the fuck is Glenn?

He doesn't know a Glenn.

Cas doesn’t know a Glenn.

Why is he chatting with this Glenn?

Glenn can’t even spell his name — he can’t even spell, period! And how old is he to be using stupid little emojis? Twelve? Numbers as words?

What is wrong with you, Glenn?

Who the hell are you, Glenn?

“Dean?”

Sam was watching Dean carefully, judging his reactions with a worried expression. Dean didn't say anything for a long time, didn't even move. He just kept staring at the phone like a stupefied idiot in the hope that there would suddenly be a wave of clarity to explain this situation. It never did. The more Dean looked at the screen, the more strange it became.

Dean was finally able to say something after a moment. “Did you know about this?”

“Not until I looked at the message,” Sam defended. When Dean gave him a suspicious glance, Sam raised his hands up in innocence. “Dean, I swear. I thought you guys were texting each other until you put your phone down.”

“Do you know who this Glenn is?” Dean sneered Glenn’s name like it was the worst name in the world.

Glenn….

“This is the first time I’ve heard about it. Dean, they could just be good friends!”

“Yeah, because people just call their 'good friends' handsome, or end their texts with kisses and winky faces. Bull shit, Sam. And what the hell is later? What’s happening later?”

Sam was about to say something, but the screeching of the basement door stopped what ever he was going to say. “Shut up! He’s coming back.”

The brothers frantically tried to act casual; Sam dived right into the books, pretending to study, while Dean put the phone back where Cas had left it, and leaned back in his chair and went back to his game. The angel didn't seem to notice the change, even though the brothers were stiff in their body language and their eyes were flickering over to the phone and to each other.

“I couldn't find the book for you, Sam,” Cas said. “In fact, by the accumulation of dust in that room it would seem as if no one has been in there for quite some time.”

“Oh, well,” Sam sighed over dramatically. Sam was many things but he was not a great actor. “I must have misplaced it… somewhere else.”

Smooth, Sam, Dean thought. Smooth.

The moment Cas got to the table his focus was immediately back on the phone. Dean swore, the very second Cas saw that message, his entire body language changed, like… it was subtle but Dean would know the difference. He knew Castiel well enough to know the smile he was trying to hide, how his eyes lit up in delight and, if Dean looked closer, he could've sworn that the angel was blushing. Fucking blushing!

Who the hell is this guy?

Dean wasn't the only one who noticed. Sam saw it too, and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Thanks for doing that for me, Cas.”

Cas didn't even look up from texting on his phone. “Doing what?”

“Going to get the book for Sammy,” Dean answered.

“Oh, yes. The book. It was not an issue for me.”

Dude, did Cas forget? He literally just went to get it and he FORGOT??

“Yeah, Cas. You’re always there to help, always there for us. The buddy we can count on to… to be honest with us.”

“Dean!” Sam hissed.

“Just making an observation, Sammy,” Dean said, but Cas was completely oblivious. Dean wasn't used to be ignored by the angel. Cas is usually practically joined to his hip, he could barely shake him off, but now he was barely interesting compared to… Glenn. He doesn't like it one bit. “You know what? It’s been awhile since we’ve had some fun — How about we all hang out tonight? We can get a few beers, rent a few movies, and just take the night off. What do you say, Cas? Wanna join us?”

That was the first time Cas took his eyes off his phone, and he looked uncomfortable. “Um, tonight?”

“Yeah, Cas, tonight. Will that be a problem?” Dean tested.

“I’m afraid I am scheduled to be elsewhere for tonight.”

“Really?” Dean asked with fake enthusiasm. “D’you hear that, Sammy, Cas has something else on. What do you have “scheduled”?”

Cas shifted awkwardly in his seat and kept his eyes away from the hunters. “It is a… prior engagement. I can’t afford to miss it ”

“It must be important.”

“Yes, it is.”

Wow, he really isn't gonna talk. Not even to me, Dean thought. “Maybe you can tell us all about it afterwards.”

“I do not think it would be intellectually stimulating for you," Cas snapped.

That shut Dean right up. That was the closest thing to Cas being sassy… ever. Cas didn't usually have a great concept over social concepts or cues — heck! Even sarcasm was a problem for him, so for him to say that? Even Sam looked surprised.

It went quiet for them after that. None of them spoke for a long time and all Dean could hear was the incessant clicking of buttons and Cas’ message tone whenever Glenn replied.

Glenn…

Why won’t Cas mention him?

Maybe he isn't important enough to talk about? Yeah. That makes sense. Glenn is just some guy who Cas talks too… and texts. And smile. Every time he texts. Every. Time. Like a teenage girl. For an angel, Cas wasn't very good at hiding his emotions. When he’s in his soldier mode, Cas was lethal, deadly, but every ding of his phone made the corner of his mouth turn up and he had to bite his lip just to hold it back, but wow… Dean has never seen Cas act like that.

It was around six thirty that the angel decide to leave. To go to his “prior engagement”, to go see Glenn, wherever he was going — whatever! But the damn angel wouldn't say anything. Dean was probably on his sixth beer by now, and lightly picking at the label on the bottle. It was that or openly mope around the Bunker because he just didn't know what the fuck to do.

“You know,” Sam mused, picking at the edge of the page in the book he wasn't reading. “Cas’ phone probably has GPS.”

Dean gave his brother an odd look. “And?”

“And, if we didn't know where he was, I could track it on my computer to know exactly where he might be tonight.”

Dean’s eyes lit up in realisation what Sam was suggesting, and he cleared his throat. “Well, you never know. He could be in danger.”

“It could be an emergency,” Sam agreed.

“Exactly.”

“If we had quick look, it would only be to make sure we knew he was okay.”

“Because we are his best friends,” Dean said. A pause fell on them, neither brother moving or saying anything. “Sammy?

“Yep?”

“Trace it.”

Without further encouragement, Sam opened up his laptop.

“What the hell is this place?”

Once Dean had parked on the street, he stepped out of the car and looked around where he was. They were in town, the fancy part full of bars and restaurants and people just generally looking for a good evening out, but Dean couldn't understand why Cas would be here. “Are you sure this is the right spot?”

Sam checked his phone again. “It still says Cas is in Valentino and Giovanni.”

“Yeah, but Cas is an angel, he doesn't eat. Why is he here?”

Sam shrugged. “Let’s go find out.”

“On it. And maybe we can get some take out. Man, I’m starving.”

Sam just sighed in amusement, and they made their way straight to Valentino and Giovanni with the sign bright and flashing outside, but Dean didn't need to step inside to know that this is a very lavish restaurant. There was a hostess waiting by the door, watching the brothers and giving them the stink eye at the way they were dressed, so they decide not to go inside and just have a little glance through the window to see what it was like.

And it was fancy.

Like, “you-have-to-be-stinking-rich-to-afford-this-place” fancy.

And with one look at the display menu by the window, Dean visibly winced.

Yep, Dean won’t be getting takeout here.

“Holy crap,” Sam said by his side.

“Yeah, this place is way too over the top and just to reiterate; why would Cas be here?”

When Dean turned to look at his brother he realised that Sam wasn't looking at the menu. He was staring straight through the glass, directly at something — Dean thought maybe it was the decor of the place.

But that wasn't it.

Cas was there, and he was sitting with another man—

Wait… Beach Boy?!

That was the guy from the bar when they were on that demon case in the club. He was the friggin' bartender! Cas was still wearing his trench coat and suit — there seemed to be a dress code in this Valentino and Giovanni, because Beach Boy was dressed up in a sharper suit and he had his blond hair gelled back so they saw more of his defined face. The way he was staring at Cas, and the way Cas was staring at him… Dean saw how close their seats were together, how they were in the far corner to give them more privacy, and how every single thing Beach Boy said seemed to make the angel smile and even laugh — Dean has hardly seen Cas laugh like that, maybe never — and Beach Boy was acting just the same way. Their body language fed off each other so well, they were so in sync — but what the hell?!

That’s the guy Cas was texting?

That’s Glenn?!

But how?

“Dean?”

Sam was giving Dean a deeply concerned look, having seen what Dean just saw and drawing up conclusions of his own. “What? Sam, I’m fine. I am! Look, you're thinking about this the wrong way. They could just be friends. Two friends having a… surprisingly intimate dinner together. We don’t even know if—”

But Dean couldn’t finish his sentence. The scene had quickly changed, and it made his throat close up.

No… Dean thought.

Glenn’s hand inched closer towards Cas’ on the table, until they’re finally touching.

No, don’t…

Cas looked down at their joined hands. The uncertainty on his face, but Glenn moved his fingers over his skin. Soft and steady. Slow and easy. Fucking enjoying it…

Don’t touch him…

Tell him to stop, Cas—

But the worst thing is — the thing that makes Dean’s gut twist and knot like a pile of rocks in the pit of his stomach — Cas opens his palm out for Glenn. And Glenn linked his fingers with the angel and let his thumb run idly against his angel's wrist.

They were holding hands.

Like a couple.

And it made Cas smile.

Not his usual awkward grin, but a genuine, toothy, I-can’t-contain-my-excitement smile that reached his eyes and made them light up brighter than the electricity in this restaurant. Glenn said something else to him, and Cas laughed like a fool. That was a laugh Dean had never seen before.

Holy crap. Sam was right.

The texting, the secrecy… it all made sense. Looking back now, Dean realised how much of an idiot he was for not seeing it, especially with how clear it was now. It was so clear.

The uncertainty wasn't from reluctance. It was nerves.

This guy made Cas nervous in the butterflies-in-your-stomach-I-can’t-stop-thinking-about-you nervous. I-have-a-crush-on-you nervous…

I’m falling for you nervous…

Dean didn't even acknowledge Sam trying to talk to him, trying to snap him out of his catatonic state, or the worry etched on his features. The only thing he could focus on was his Cas' easy smile and the growing ache in his chest.

Dean decided to go straight home.

He wasn't feeling hungry anymore.

Sam didn't try to talk to Dean on the way back to the Bunker. Not when they made it inside, not when he went to bed, not even the next morning. There was probably something about his face that warned Sam not to try and make conversation. Maybe it was the bags under his eyes. Dean really didn't sleep well that night.

He hadn't been able to sleep well for the last week.

He couldn't get rid of the image of Cas and Beach Boy holding hands in that restaurant. It haunted him in the day, at night, when he’s cleaning the Impala, when they were on a hunt, when he wasn't doing anything! Dean didn't even have to think about it and the image would jump up in his head like a virus fuelled pop up ad.

It was a good thing Cas hadn't been in the Bunker for a while, because there was no way he could hide his bad mood from the angel. He hadn't spoken to Sam the whole time, even his half-assed attempts were shot down in a blazing fire. Dean would just grunt that he was fine and get back to doing whatever he was doing. In the end, Sam got the message. He didn't want to talk about it.

He never wants to talk about it to any one.

“Cas? Hi.”

Dean heard Sam’s voice in the library. He didn't even have to think about it and suddenly he was standing next to his brother by the table, watching the angel walk down the stairs.

“Hello, Sam. Dean,” Cas made his way to the brothers. He was fiddling with the ends of the sleeves and wringing it around, something that Dean learned was one of Cas’ nervous ticks. That can't be a good sign. “How are you this morning?”

“Good. We’re good,” Sam answered, giving Dean a quick glance, but Cas didn't seem to notice it. “We haven't seen you in a while. What have you been doing?”

Now Cas looked really nervous. “Oh, um, nothing much…”

Holy crap, the angel was blushing. This didn't make Dean feel good.

“No, I’m sorry. I tell a lie,” Cas announced, but he didn't say anything else. He kept fiddling with his sleeves while the long silence drew out.

“Is there anything you want to say?” Sam urged.

“No — Yes! Um, th— yes, there is something I wish to discuss with the both of you.”

Dean instantly knew what was happening. Cas was going to open up. He was going to tell them everything about Glenn, about who he is, and what they are, and although he wanted the truth, right now, he wished Cas would keep his lid shut. “What would that be?”

Cas opened his mouth but nothing came out. He seemed to be thinking over his words carefully. “I have noticed, over my time living on Earth, that human beings seem to crave physical intimacy and emotional stability via finding a partner or paramour.”

Stop talking, Cas. “Yeah.”

“I know you and Sam have had some partners and paramours previously in the past.”

“Para-what?” Dean asked.

“Girlfriends, Dean. He means girlfriends,” Sam clarified.

“Yes, girlfriends, and recently, I have been… I have found this emotional stability and physical intimacy myself.”

Stop talking, Cas. Please stop talking. “Cas, we don’t speak nervous angel over here.”

Dean felt bad when Cas visibly flinched, but it didn't hinder him. “I apologise. I am trying to tell you…”

No. Don’t say it.

“that I too…”

Please don’t say it.

“have found a partner.”

He said it.

The angel had said that last part in such a rush Dean almost didn't catch it, but he did. The worst part was that Cas couldn't look the brothers in the eye, finding the seams of his coat sleeves much more interesting, but when he looked up, it was mostly at Dean. He looked desperately at the hunter, trying to judge his reaction more than Sam’s. Because his opinion was the one that mattered the most.

Dean wasn't sure what to say at that moment.

He couldn't think past the rising lump in his throat and the sudden sting in his eyes. He blinked past it, and cleared his throat to try and sound normal. “Wow, really? You have a girlfriend? Good for you. So, what’s her name?”

Cas took a steady breath, ready for his next revelation. “His name is Glenn.”

Glenn…

Dean has never hated that name more than ever, but he kept up with the pretence. “His? Oh… so you have a boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

“A boyfriend named Glenn?”

“Yes.”

Dean, don’t you dare cry right now. Don’t you dare!

Dean repeated this one line over and over in his head, but it was getting harder with each moment. Cas was starting to fidget, the silence only adding to his anxiety. Dean didn't want Cas to feel like this, not when it probably took him so long to try and finally open up to him. The last thing he wanted was to make the angel suffer.

“That’s great!”

Sam and Cas both looked at Dean in surprise and both said: “It is?”

Dean enthused, putting on a fake smile. “Yeah, man! Cas is finally getting some action! Tell me, how long have you been seeing Greg?”

“Glenn,” Cas corrected.

Glenn…

“Whatever. How long?”

“We’ve been meeting regularly for approximately three weeks,” Cas admitted. “And the reason I am discussing this with you is… Glenn has a night off work tomorrow and I would like to introduce you and Sam to him.”

Dean’s smile faltered for a moment as he processed the request. “You want us to meet your boyfriend?”

“Yes. Will that be okay?”

“Name a time and place. Me and Sam will be there,” Dean said.

“Sam?” Cas turned to ask Sam.

Sam was unusually silent, watching the display and his brother's behaviour like Dean suddenly had two heads. He didn't even realise that Cas was speaking to him until he noticed the angel watching him with a steady gaze on him. “I will be very happy to meet your boyfriend, Cas.”

The angel released a long sigh of relief. “This is excellent news, I’m gonna call Glenn now and we can arrange everything for tomorrow.”

Cas immediately dug into his pocket and fished out his phone. Dean could hear him blabbering on to Glenn on the other end, but he wasn't listening. He was trying to ignore Sam’s incessant stare. He could feel it on the back of his neck, but he didn't want Sam to look sad at his expense. And he desperately didn't need Sam to ask the question he knows his little brother will want to ask.

Don’t ask me if I’m okay, Sam. Please, please, don’t ask me if I’m okay.

Cas arranged the time and place at seven in a little restaurant called Eddie’s.

Thankfully, it was a small diner, not as expensive as Valentino and Giovanni. Dean and Sam wouldn't have been able to afford it otherwise, and a little part of Dean thought maybe Cas had arranged that purposefully. Make the brothers feel comfortable in their natural surroundings. It was a nice gesture, but Dean couldn't help but feel a little miffed.

He’s expensive restaurant worthy.

When he can afford it.

Which is not often.

Or hardly.

Hardly ever.

Anyway, Dean and Sam were waiting for the “happy couple” in the booth by the window. It was one of those typical “All American” diners with the lovely aroma of hot dogs and cheese burgers in the air, that provided Dean’s favourite brand of beer, which he was nursing right now. If he was going to get through this he needed to get a little bit drunk.

Sam was giving him a pitiful look, nursing his own beer but not at the rate Dean was going. Dean raised his hands and shrugged. “What?”

Sam didn't even blink when he asked. “Are you okay?”

“I’m peachy,” Dean replied.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked again, unconvinced.

“I’m perfectly fine.”

“Because if you want to talk — ”

“Shut up, they're coming.”

Dean could see the angel and Glenn crossing the street to the diner, and Dean couldn't help but notice them standing incredibly close to each other, talking and leaning closer than it was necessary. Cas has never been good with personal space, but Glenn didn't seem to mind one bit.

Bastard.

The door to the diner had a bell that signalled when someone came. Dean gave a quick look over his shoulder to make sure it was them and whispered over to Sam. “Act natural!”

“Same goes for you,” Sam warned, raising his hand to get the couple's attention. “Hi, Cas!”

“Hello,” Cas said. He took hold of Glenn’s hand and brought them over to the booth. “Everyone, I would like you to meet Glenn. Glenn, these are my friends, Sam and Dean.”

Glenn gave them a nervous smile and a wave. “Hi guys.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you Glenn,” Sam offered.

“And it’s nice to finally meet you guys. Cas has talked about you so often it’s nice to put the faces to the names.”

“Really? Funny, ‘cause Cas never mentioned you,” Dean said.

Sam gave Dean a painful kick in his shin, and he corrected: “Until yesterday, that is.”

The couple didn't seem to take much notice of the jibe and proceeded to take the available seats. “Sam and Dean,” Glenn mused. “I can’t believe I finally get to meet you. I’ve heard so many great things.”

“Don’t believe them. Cas has a tendency to exaggerate,” Dean waved off. “So we’re here to judge you for ourselves. Be prepared for the worst interrogation of your life.”

“Ah, Cas said you were intense,” Glenn grinned.

Ha ha — this guy thinks I’m kidding.

This is going to be a fun night…

It was the worst evening of Dean’s life.

It was seriously the worst experience Dean had ever been through.

The reason why? Because this Glenn guy is the ideal boyfriend.

He is the poster boy of boyfriends. If a dad ever met his daughter's boyfriend, he will want to be the boyfriend of that boyfriend because that’s how great Glenn is. He’s that great, isn’t it great?

Just great???

The worst thing was Dean put Glenn through the worst interrogation he could humanly go through, otherwise he would grab the demon blade and scared the living shit out of that Beach Boy punk. It was a good thing Sam was there, because just as Dean was about to hit murderous levels, Sam would grab his arm and smile happily and move the conversation along to something that won’t threaten his life.

By the end of the meal, Dean is just glad Cas hadn't clocked onto the tension Dean was emitting, nor did he get where he was going with his line of questioning, but Dean didn't think Cas was paying enough attention to Dean. He spent the whole meal just gazing lovingly at his boyfriend, and with Glenn gazing back lovingly at Cas — there were moments when Sam and Dean swore the couple had forgotten they even had company. It was surprising how often that had happened, and it made Dean guilty for giving Glenn a tough time. But Glenn didn't seem to mind in the slightest.

Sam had excused himself to go get some more drinks for everyone and Cas somehow felt the need to go with him. Which meant Dean was alone. With Glenn. Cas’ boyfriend. The moment Sam and Cas were out of ear shot (after Cas felt the need to give Glenn a kiss on the cheek, something that made Dean want to break this punk's nose), Glenn leaned in close and asked: “Have I seen you before?”

Oh, damn. Dean was hoping this wouldn't happen. It was dark in the club, a lot of people, there was no way Glenn could remember that night. It had been a few weeks ago. “No. We’ve never met.”

Glenn wasn't convinced. “Are you sure? I swear I’ve seen your face before.”

“Maybe I’ve just got one of those faces.”

“No, this is bugging me. Are you sure we haven't met? Have you ever been to Cosmo?”

That was the club. The club Cas met Glenn. Why couldn't he just stop talking? “Uh, yeah, maybe. I’ve heard of it, been in there a few times.”

“When was the last time?”

“Um… a few weeks maybe,” Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. I left early the last time ‘cause I felt like the oldest man there.”

“Hm,” Glenn thought carefully. “Funny, we usually get an equal balance at the club. The only time we ever have a younger crowds is when the semester is at a end…”

Dean could see the moment Glenn knew. His eyes lit up with realisation. “I have seen you before. You were at the bar! Ten dollars for the daiquiri. Wow, I owe you a thanks, man. If it wasn't for you I would never have met Cas.”

Dean had been in fights before, but he has never felt the urge to pummel someone to death more than when Glenn said that line. God, he really wanted to hit something, feel it break his knuckles and make him bleed, and he really wanted to wipe that smirk off his damn face, but he couldn’t. It wasn't Glenn’s fault. It was Dean’s.

He had spent the entire evening trying to find everything wrong with this guy. Trying to find something that would destroy this perfect Beach Boy beauty with the great smile and Cas’ heart — Dean couldn't remember if it was for Cas’ benefit or for his, but in the end it was pointless.

Dean couldn't find a single thing wrong with him.

There wasn't a damn thing wrong with him.

Glenn’s perfect.

He’s smart. He graduated magna cum laude in college, he had the chance to go to Harvard, but he didn't want to move away from home.

He’s attractive. That guy could be a swimsuit model, for crying out loud!

He’s funny. Dean’s never been able to make Cas laugh once, and yet Glenn is able to make it happen all evening.

He’s attentive to Cas. When they think no one is watching they get wrapped up into their own little world where no one else is invited. Having the chance to just witness one of those moments felt as if they were interrupting something intimate.

He’s uncomplicated. Dean doesn't think this guy knows the meaning of “baggage”.

He knows things about books, and science and everything! He’s the only person who can understand what Cas is saying most of the time.

He has dreams and ambition. He’s working at the club to fund his master degree so he could become an architect.

He’s everything Dean wants to be.

And he looks at Cas like he hung the fucking moon. Well, he is an angel so that’s not out of the realms of possibility, but you know what he means.

He’s the ideal boyfriend anybody could wish for.

And he’s perfect for Cas…

And Dean has never felt more worthless.

“Do you want to talk now?”

“No, Sam.”

Sam sighed. “Dean, this is bothering you.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because you haven’t said anything since we left the diner.”

That was true. Dean had been all smiles and polite conversation up until when Cas and Glenn had to leave, holding hands and being just as loved up as before (shouldn't there be a limit or a cooling off period when it comes to PDA? Come on!) and now the brothers were driving home. As soon as he hit the road, all of Dean’s perkiness had vanished out the window, and he really wasn't in the mood for Sam to ask about his feelings.

“There’s nothing to say.”

Apparently, that wasn't a good enough answer. “Nothing? Nothing! Dean, come on!”

“Come on? What do you want me to say? You want me to spill my heart out and braid each other's hair?”

Sam ignored the jibe. “I want you to be honest.”

“What will that achieve? I’m pretty sure Cas will still have a boyfriend by the time we hug it out.”

Sam was quiet for awhile, and Dean assumed he finally let it go. It turned out Dean was only being hopeful. “So I was right? You do like Cas?”

Dean tried to keep his eyes on the road ahead of him, but a quick glance in Sam’s direction showed his brother watching him carefully, his eyes full of understanding. “No, I… I’m just worried for him. This is all happening kinda fast, don’t you think?”

Sam didn't answer and kept up his watchful gaze.

Dean had no choice but to be honest, if it meant getting Sam off his back. “Maybe… maybe I’ve always held a… soft spot for him, but that doesn't mean anything.”

Dean didn't know what Sam’s reaction to that little confession was, nor did he want to. He kept his eyes on the road, on the way home, and hoped to God that Sam will just let this go…

“You never know. This might not mean anything, could just be a crush. If you said something, maybe Cas will realise that he wants to be with you.”

Dean didn't even react to that idea. “You think so?”

“Cas has always felt something deep for you. A profound bond, remember? He said that.”

He did say that. Years ago, and even when everything had gone to hell back then, it seemed like an easier time. But that was years ago. Things have changed, and now Cas has a profound bond with someone else. “Sam, you said the way Cas smiled whenever Glen texted him was the same way you smiled when Jess texted you. Remember that?”

“Yes,” Sam answered. He wasn't sure where Dean was going with this.

“How much did you love her?”

Dean finally took his eyes of the road to judge Sam’s reaction because this is the only thing that was important for Sam to understand. Sam’s eyes dulled with sadness at the understanding of what Dean was referring to. “With all my heart.”

That was all the confirmation he needed.

It wasn’t long until everyone else found out about the “happy couple”.

Dean was out on a hunt when Crowley showed up impromptu, all smiles, sleek suit and smarmy attitude. He wasn't surprised Crowley would try to see him when Sam was away getting takeout. He’s probably been waiting for the right time to make his grand entrance, knowing him.

“So, Deano, there’s been a rumour going around on the grapevine that our favourite angel has been getting romantic with a lowly bartender.”

Not even a hello, Dean thought. “What about it?”

“So it is true?” Crowley huffed. “Huh, that’s… unexpected.”

“Yeah, well it’s happened.”

“Hmm… go angel, and I mean that sincerely. I don’t know if you've seen the guy, but he is hunky.”

“Why are you here, Crowley?” Dean sighed.

“Can’t an old friend drop by and say hello?”

“I didn't know we were friends.”

“Ouch, that hurt,” Crowley mocked, putting a hand over his heart like he was in pain. If he had a heart.

Dean didn’t care. Crowley probably didn't mean it ‘cause he kept on talking, despite Dean’s annoyance.

“So, what do you say? Want me to interrogate him? Make him disappear under mysterious circumstances, or make it as bloody and open as possible?”

“Hm — what? No, Crowley, leave him alone.”

“Why?” This time, Crowley sounded surprised.

“Because you can’t, that’s why! Listen, you’re probably not going to like this, but Cas’ boyfriend is off limits. No demons, no torture, or anything. Just leave them be.”

“You want me to leave them alone? You want them to be sappy and so in love that it’s almost sickening?”

Please shut up. “Crowley, I don't care.”

Crowley gave him a sly grin, not believing him in the slightest. “Yes you do.”

Yes, he does, but Dean would rather go back to Hell than than admit that to Crowley.

It’s always a joy to see Kevin again after so long. Life after the angel tablet mess and being kidnapped by Crowley and demons seemed to suit him. He looks well rested, his clothes are washed and he seemed to be eating his greens. Hopefully. He’s no longer complaining about being “backed up” anymore, not now his mom has him home and letting motherly instincts go crazy.

After a long over due chat, Kevin finally offered to go over some of the lore with them on a particular case that's even got Sam confused. And they couldn’t contact Cas because… well, Cas has other priorities…

Honestly, they haven't seen the angel in weeks.

Not from lack of trying. Over the last few days, Dean can’t remember how many texts and phone calls he gave to him, but every single one of them seemed to fall on deaf ears. Not a day goes by where Dean hasn't checked his phone just to make sure he hasn't missed a call or message — his heart would leap against his rib cage until it plummeted down to his stomach when the contact heading tells him that it’s not from Cas — but sheer persistence and stubbornness refused to let Dean give up.

Dean was just about to add another voicemail onto the pile of unanswered one when they had a knock on the door to the Bunker, something that never happened. Ever.

Linda perked up immediately at the noise. Sam joined them from where he was with Kevin in the library, while Linda was with Dean in the kitchen where they were making lunch. There was another knock again and Dean braved the trip, tightening his grip on the knife he keeps hidden in his back pocket. When he finally tiptoed to the door — knife in hand, and the other on the door handle — he opened it and almost had a heart attack by what he saw.

“Cas?” Dean stuttered, not believing his eyes. Cas was standing there patiently, giving him a slight smile that was more relaxed than he had ever seen on Cas. Dean was on the verge of saying something else when someone else came within his line of sight — and he hid the knife behind his back. “And Glenn! Glenn’s here!”

Glenn wrapped his arm around Cas’ shoulder, giving Dean a smile that made Dean hate him even more. “Hey, Dean. ”

Smug bastard. “I didn't know you were in town.”

“It was Cas’ idea to swing on by, said you wouldn't mind. Plus I felt bad for taking him away from you guys.”

“It was not of import,” Cas interrupted. “I’m sure they have been busy.”

Wow, Cas… that’s what you have to say after weeks of silence? Not of import?

Before they could register the tense look on Dean’s expression, the hunter moved the conversation along. Otherwise, by the way they were looking at each other, they were going to forget he was even there. “We’re never too busy for you, Cas. Although, it would be nice for you to pick up your phone. When I call. I left you messages.”

“You have?” Cas was confused until a look of realisation washed over him. “I apologise, Dean. I failed to inform you of my change in electronic devices.”

“What?”

Cas dug into his trench coat pocket and produced a brand spanking new cell phone, one of those new all-the-rage software and hardware things that Dean has never been interested in learning the names of, but it looked impressive. If Dean was a teenager than maybe he would be just as impressed by it the same way Cas was, and it looked expensive. Very expensive. Above the angel's pay grade expensive.

“I recently received this as a gift from Glenn to replace my old cellular device.”

“Yeah,” Glenn said. “His old one was bugging up and not working properly, so I bought him this bad boy. Only the best. It was about time too, because that last one was starting to look like a brick from one of those eighties movies — come on, when did you buy that dinosaur? Jurassic Park?”

Actually, the second hand store. When I bought it for Cas, you asshole. “Who knows? That’s Cas for you!”

“Yeah it is,” Glenn sighed, but instead of being a smug bastard and an asshole, Glenn practically melts at the sight of Cas next to him, his cheeky grin softening to a smile and Cas’ reaction is like a typical girl with her high school crush. All sugary sweet and head over heels, and totally, totally besotted… It made Dean sick to his stomach. “Look, like I said, it’s short notice, but Cas hasn't seen you guys in like forever and he missed you, but if you’re too busy—”

Dean shook his head. “Not at all. You guys are welcome here.”

Not you, Glenn. If Cas wasn't your prom date, I’d be gutting you like a fish.

“Hey, Sammy!” Dean shouted downstairs in the Bunker. “I hope you’ve got your glad rags on! You’ll never guess who’s here!”

Glad rags. Winchester code for: Hide everything. We’ve got company!

Linda absolutely loves Glenn.

She thinks he’s the ideal man for Castiel, how he will have an amazing future, and how he practically worships the ground Cas walks on, blah blah blah, yada, yada, yada!

Dean stopped listening after awhile because the whole thing just put him in a foul mood. He hated it when he had to introduce Glenn to the Trans and had to introduce Glenn as Cas’ boyfriend, hated having to watch their eyebrows rise in surprise at that proclamation, but Linda took to it with ease. She always did seem like the maternal extrovert. Always takes the lead as the motherly friend to make everyone seem at home. The next thing Dean knew they were laughing away at Glenn’s jokes or talking about some popular TV show Dean has never heard of.

Soon, Linda was a new favourite contact in Glenn and Cas’ expensive phones.

But Kevin… Kevin was nice enough to him, but he would keep giving Dean these awkward sideways glances throughout the whole night. Sammy too, but Dean had expected that, but with Kevin, that was unusual. When Linda, Cas and Glenn would be throwing their heads back with laughter, Kevin would pretend to join in but looked over at Dean… apologetically? Sadly? Dean couldn't be sure. He was too busy pretending to be okay.

It’s funny how good Dean is at pretending. Honestly, it’s utterly exhausting.

Cas and Glenn left an hour after arriving, and by the time Linda and Kevin were on there way home Dean was ready to hide away in his room and wallow in his own self pity, but he wasn't going to let them leave without a goodbye. He enveloped Linda in a bear hug, squeezing her tight until she cheekily chastised him, and Kevin gave him a pat on the back as Dean walked them to the front door.

Linda had made her way to the drivers seat. Kevin threw convention through the window and gave Dean a hug after all, which Dean returned in advance. “Take care of yourselves, Kevin.”

“You too, Dean,” Kevin’s voice was muffled against Dean’s shoulder, but he was crystal clear on the next sentence. “I thought it would be you.”

“What?” Dean pulled back, looking at Kevin.

“Cas. I thought it would be you he would fall for. The way you guys are with each other, how close you always seemed to be. I just… never mind. Maybe I just read too much into it.”

Dean didn't know what to say, but he didn't have to. Linda beeped for Kevin to get in the car and they drove down the lane until all Dean could make out was their rear lights, but even that was gone by then.

It was cold, but Dean didn't feel it. His arms were prickling with goosebumps, but he didn't care. It was dark and he should probably go inside, but he didn't want to. There was nothing but silence, darkness and his own thoughts to keep him company — and it was one thought in particular. The answer Dean would've given Kevin if he had the chance.

I wanted it to be me, too.

Dean ignored Sam when he finally walked in about an hour later.

He went straight to his room, put his music on full blast, ignoring his little brother calling out for him from the other side.

The next morning came by, and Sam still didn't take the hint.

“Do you want to talk about it now—”

“Nope.”

Dean went back to his room for a few more hours.

That repeated for a few days until Sam finally stopped asking.

Cas was busy with his new boyfriend — no, that’s wrong. They’ve been dating for awhile now, so he’s no longer new, but the interest didn't waver. Dean still hasn’t had the chance to see the angel since that drop in at the Bunker, but since then it’s like he’s no longer there. It’s full on radio silence.

It’s gotten to the point where Dean had to make sure Cas was okay by stalking Glenn’s Facebook page, and, let Dean tell you, that guy was a social animal. Of course, working at a bar you get the free pass to all the parties, but he’s involved in clubs, goes to fancy dinners, has lots of friends — does this guy even sleep? Probably not — his Facebook suggests he doesn’t.

But the worst thing was is that Cas is in every single one of his new photos uploaded in the last two months. Glenn took Cas to all of the club events. One of them looked like a glow stick one, because Cas had glowing paint on his cheeks and Glenn had some spiked up in his hair. They were standing way too close together, Glenn’s arm wrapped around his shoulder, (like the possessive little shit he is, Dean thought). It was like that in most of them. Glenn had mastered the art of the selfie because most of them were flawless. He always looked great, always looked like a model and always had Cas by his side. The proud boyfriend. They were in different restaurants, the park, club events and other things, and every single time, Cas looked like he was having the time of his life.

How did Glenn do this? How did he get Cas to come out of his shell? The Cas he knew would never consider going to a club if it wasn't Dean’s idea, and he would spend the night moping around like the prissy little angel he is. The Cas in these photos? This Cas was having fun. Having a good time, having no cares in the world.

How can Glenn do that in two months when Dean couldn't do it in years?

That thought was cut off rapidly when Dean flickered over to the next photo. He could feel his stomach drop before his brain even had the chance to register what was happening, and when he did the entire sensation happened again. It was like a whirlwind in his stomach that threatened to make him throw up.

Cas and Glenn were in the park. It was a sunny day, they were sat by a tree with a little picnic for lunch, just a normal couple’s date — and Cas had his hand on the back of Glenn’s neck, pulling him in until their lips touched.

It was just a little peck, nothing over the top or gross, but Dean’s stomach protested at it anyway.

They were kissing.

Kissing.

Dean had to fight the urge to throw the computer across the room, because 1) Because it was Sam’s, and 2) It would mean he would have to talk about why he threw it.

And Dean didn't want to talk about it.

Ever.

Sam and Dean would see Cas sometimes. He would drop by, say hi, see what is going on in the monster/angel/demon world, but there would be phone calls that lasted five minute or casual texts that never last extended more than a few replies. It would always be Cas who would hang up first or not reply to the last message, leaving that conversation in the internet abyss.

He never has time for him anymore. Not surprising. Too busy with Glenn…

Glenn…

God, he hated that name.

Sam asks if he’s okay. He always does, but Dean has set up an automatic system for him to instantly reply that he was fine or that he didn't want to talk about it. But then one day Sam wasn't going to take it anymore.

“Dean, talk to me. Please…”

Dean was getting himself a beer from the fridge, not even nothing to look over at his brother. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to say how you feel! You won’t talk and you’re starting to worry me. What’s going on?”

“Sammy—”

“Don’t "Sammy" me. This is killing you, I know it is, but you won’t say anything. I want to help Dean, but you won’t let me.”

Wow, Sammy is pissed. “I don’t need help, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Please, Dean. Please talk to me. Tell me what you’re feeling so I can help.”

Dean did want to talk, but there was no way in Hell that Sam could help. What exactly could he say? It was going to be okay? No it won’t. Talking about our feelings like it was a rom-com is not going to change anything. Cas was still going to be Glenn’s boyfriend. And what was Dean going to say?

I miss Cas. I miss my best friend. I miss his dorkiness, his awkwardness and everything about him. I miss the way he says my name or how he calls to see if I’m all right. I miss the way things used to be and all the moments we used to share, and all the hunts we would go on together. I miss me before this happened. I miss feeling nothing instead of this nausea I feel every time Glenn’s name is mentioned or how much in love Cas is with him. I miss the way things were two months ago.

I wish I could go back two months ago and stop this all from happening.

I miss him.

I miss you, Cas.

Tell me, Sam. How is talking going to make that happen?

“I’m going to study.”

“What?” Sam was dumbfounded.

“I’m going to study. There’s some lore that we need to brush up on and I need to do my bit, so don’t disturb me, okay?”

So Dean got up, went to the library and picked up any random book he could find. He took a seat, got himself comfortable and started to read.

Dean can study. It was a good thing to keep himself busy, and not think or talk about Cas.

Maybe this would help be any outlet. His new distraction…

Dean fell asleep.

He tried to study. For ten minutes.

It was probably late in the evening. He couldn't see Sam anywhere and there was a stillness to the Bunker that felt like it was night time, but something had woken him up. Someone was opening the front door.

Then Dean could hear the sounds of muffled voices drifting over. He was laying on the couch, too tired to move, but too curious to roll over and fall asleep again. Luckily, the voice got louder and he was able to make out certain snippets of conversation in the midst of giggles and whispers.

“Wait, shh… are you sure we should be here?”

“It’s fine. They never mind. Keep your voice low, l don’t want to wake them.”

“How could we wake them? This place is like a palace, I doubt they could hear us if we screamed at the top of our lungs.”

It was Cas and Glenn. They were stumbling their way into the Bunker with a slur in their speech that Dean instantly knew came from drink. He has sported that tone many times when he’s out at bars and chatting up tail, but Cas has never been drunk. He hardly drinks alcohol! Since when did that change? Wait, he wouldn't know. Cas is never here. So why is he here now?

Dean didn't move from where he was on the couch, but luckily they didn't seem to notice his presence and carried on with their conversation.

“It would be rude if we did,” that was Cas’ voice. Dean would know his voice anywhere. “Please keep your tone to a quiet pitch.”

“Yes, Mr. Bossy,” Glenn replied in a slur. “I love it when you get bossy, Mr. Bossy. Mr. Bossy is also Mr. Sexy. You’re Mr. Bossy-Sexy! Or Mr. Sexy-Bossy? Which one do you prefer?”

“And you are Mr Loud,” Cas giggled.

“Sorry,” Glenn whispered. “I don’t see what the problem is. We could've walked home.”

“Not when it’s this cold, and besides. I still have my room here.”

Glenn gasped, over exaggerated and over surprised. “Your room? I didn't know you lived here.”

“I haven't in a long time.”

“I know. I know where you've been sleeping at nights,” Dean had to sharpen his hearing capabilities to the max to listen in on the next line. Glenn dropped his voice so low that it became a struggle for Dean to know what he was saying.“Hey, since we’re here, why don’t we make it up to that poor neglected bed of yours? Why don’t we show that bed of yours a good… sexy time?”

No, Dean thought. No, no no no no…

“Are you insinuating—”

“Oh yeah…”

Please no. Not here. Not now. Please say no, Cas.

Please, please, please—

“You are an extremely bad influence.”

This is the worst moment of Dean’s life.

What followed was the sounds of heavy breathing and smacking lips, sounds that would only be heard in a passionate make out session, and Cas and Glenn didn't seem to be having any inhibitions. They were locked lipped, and loving every single second of it. Dean had to stay as still as he could — the slightest move could give him away — he couldn't cover his ears or pretend it wasn't happening because the sounds just got even worse. Dean has had a lot of experience with this sort of routine. He knows the amazing feeling of being pressed to another body, the sheer adrenaline rush of just a single kiss, but it never ends there. It’s never enough. Once the kissing is not enough, other things follow.

And Dean was right. The sound of ruffled clothing filled the room and uncoordinated footsteps, banging into furniture (they weren't to concerned with hurting themselves. They were probably walking backwards so that they didn't have to break the kiss.) but every bump seemed to urge them on. Glenn outright moaned against Cas’ lips, and what he did next had Cas breathing out the most delicious moans Dean has ever had the privilege to hear. Not even his own imagination could conjure up something so delectable and sweet. They were the perfect caption for his fantasies. Only this was his worst nightmare.

They only broke the kiss so Cas could take Glenn’s hand and rushed him over to his bedroom, not wanting to waste a moment. Whispering sweet nothings to each other like they meant nothing until a door closed and they were gone.

It was silent again. Just like Dean had wanted it to be, but it was too damn late.

He got up from the couch. For some reason Dean couldn't fathom his limbs felt heavy and hallow, like his body wasn't connecting to his brain anymore. He didn't even register the fact he was walking out of the library, walking past a discarded shirt he had never seen before, walking down the hall, walking towards Cas’ bedroom.

Dean walked down the hallway. His bedroom is past Castiel’s, meaning he will have to walk past his door, the door where he was… with his boyfriend…

He couldn't hear anything as he walked passed the door, but his mind filled in the blanks. His brain was imaging all the things Glenn was doing to Cas, all the things he was doing to his lean, tanned body that would make more of those delicious sounds he made earlier, make him sigh and gasp and moan out for Glen to never stop, to take him harder, to fuck him harder…

Dean slammed the door to his room. He closed his eyes, pacing back and forth as he tried to clear his mind from those thoughts, but it didn't work. He could still see it. Them together. Writhing together, their sweaty bodies begging for one another—

“Stop it,” Dean whispered, his hands curling into fists over his eyes. “Stop it, stop it, stop it!”

He repeated that mantra until his feet gave up and he leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths to steady himself, but the images kept coming. Oh god, did they keep coming…

They were so vivid, so real as if Dean could see exactly what was going on in there. Every time he tried to think of something else, those images kept flowing back to his focus, destroying all sense of reason and sanity Dean ever possessed.

They were still kissing. Hot, heavy, and all tongue in the process. Cas was more hungry for it than he has ever been in his life life, like the thought of Glenn stopping would be the death of him. He grabbed onto Glenn’s bare skin, his muscle clad, sun kissed skin, and bare arms stripping the angel free of his pants until they were completely naked together —

“Stop,” Dean begged, rocking back and forth. “Stop, stop, stop.

—Glenn picks Cas up with impressive strength, never breaking the kiss and carrying him to the bed. Pushing him against the sheets, and raking his eyes over his smooth chest and erect nipples, looking like a wild animal that ready to feast on his meal—

— Cas on his back, legs wide open, wrapped around Glenn’s waist, his head hanging precariously on the edge of the bed, letting Glenn kiss and lick all the way up his neck and chest—

“Stop thinking about it. Stop thinking about it.”

—Cas is moaning non stop with every thrust Glenn pistons into his willing, lithe body. His expression one of complete bliss, and utter adoration when he looks up at Glenn. His nails dig into his back, or white knuckled into the bedsheets — He’s being fucked so hard, his body just tried to hold on to whatever it can, whoever it can—

“Stop it!”

Dean opened his eyes. He ran to the bathroom, the nausea in his stomach threatening to make him throw up. He kneeled by the porcelain ring, waiting for his stomach to settle down — or as much as it could — before he got back onto his feet, taking large, calming breaths. He turned on the cold water, splashing some of it onto his face to cool down. He took three deep breathes, trying to compose himself, finally looking up into the mirror and —

Cas and Glenn were on his bed. Completely naked. Fucking.

Just like they were in his head.

Dean couldn't believe what was happening. He couldn't tear his eyes away. Mostly out of the sheer horror at what he was seeing, but also at Cas. Dean couldn't help it. He was beautiful in the midst of it all. His body tensing with every slam of Glenn’s hips, his muscles flexing and writhing underneath the hard weight on top of him, and the completely animalistic expression and content gasps that could only be brought out by a good fucking…

But Cas wasn't just taking it like a bitch. He rolled Glenn onto his back so his head was against the pillows and his hair messed up. Cas leaned back, taking Glenn’s dick further into him, deeper, and his head fell back and a long moan slipped past his lips. He rolled his hips, back and forth, in and out, picking up the pace and growling with every stroke.

It was better than any fantasy Dean could ever come up with.

It was more awful than any nightmare he could endure through.

He could spend forever just watching Cas, but Glenn was not as passive. He was just as domineering, just as rough. Grabbing onto Cas’ hips and fucking into him, giving it to Cas good and hard. The only reminder that it wasn't him and Cas in his head, and he was the pervert watching them like a forlorn teenager. Dean had to look away, had to blink back the sting in his eyes, but he looked up like the masochist he is. The picture was still the same.

Only Glenn was looking right back at him.

He had Cas pulled down to his chest, holding onto him with every thrust he gave him — it was all Cas could do was mewl against his neck, eyes completely closed, but Glenn didn't seem to notice. Didn't care about the magnificent creature he was defiling. All he could focus on was Dean with a cool, steady expression, his thrusts never faltering, Cas always moaning.

And then that bastard stared at him.

He smiled.

And suddenly he could hear Famine, his words echoing in the back of his consciousness.

Can't fill it, can you?

Glenn kept up his smug smile, his hands snaking down to Cas’ ass to give Dean a better view.

Not with food or drink.

And suddenly, he grabbed the back of Cas’ hair, pulled it back and smashed his mouth against his, giving the angel a kiss that was more teeth than tongue, but the angel didn't mind, responded enthusiastically.

Not even with sex.

They relished in their kiss for what felt like a millennia, until Glenn opened his eyes back to Dean.

And winked.

And Dean lost it.

He punched at the mirror, directly at where Glenn’s face would've been. He felt it crack under his fist, felt it shatter with the few shards that wore his blood. It didn't stop Dean. He didn't even feel it. The next thing he knew the TV was the next victim to his savage assault, breaking under his fist until he gave up and threw it against the wall, along with the chest of drawers, kicking the wood and the table. It didn't matter. If he could break it, he did.

He couldn't remember most of it. His mind cleared from the fog and his room was a war zone and broken, but he didn't care. He didn't even feel tired. On the opposite. He felt alive.

You're not hungry, Dean, because inside, you're already... dead.

Not anymore, bitch.

Dean just found his hunger.

He wants to kill him. He wants to kill Glenn. He has never felt an urge to kill something so bad since Yellow Eyes. It was bubbling underneath his skin like a cauldron waiting to boil over—

No, he wasn't just going to kill Glenn. That would be too quick. Too merciful.

He wants to make him suffer.

He wants to call Crowley. He wants to get Crowley here, take him up on his offer and get him to drag Glenn down to the pits by hellhounds and watch him burn, scream in agony, wallow for help, and just have Dean watch over his corpse as it melted away to his charred bones. That’s not enough. He wanted to grab his knives, unlock his old tool box of instruments that made his Hell victims scream like they were his own orchestra, and he wanted to play Glenn until his voice box bled from the sheer effort of screaming. He would happily sell his soul to Crowley in a heartbeat if it meant he can make that happen.

He wanted Glenn to burn.

He wanted him in pain. In the worst pain.

Screaming.

In agony.

Petrified, hopeless and ready to give up to the torture Dean was happy to put him through, over and over again, until the image of him and Cas is out of his head.

Oh God, Dean cried. What have I become?

Cas and Glenn never did have sex in his bed. Dean knew that.

But he ended up sleeping on the uneven floor, next to the shattered TV screen.

Dean didn't sleep that night. He tried, but when it got to five a.m., he decided to give up, and went to get some coffee from the kitchen. That was his first bad idea. When he got to the kitchen he discovered that he wasn't alone. Cas was sitting by the table, dressed in only a robe with some of his tanned skin peeking through. Dean wanted to turn around and head straight back to his room, but his bad luck was not going to let him go that easy.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas called out.

Damn it.

“You’re up at a very early hour.” Dean tried to ignore how gruff Cas’ voice was, more than usual, and his mind went straight to the scenes of him with Glenn. It took Dean a moment to compose himself to make sure Cas couldn't see his upset.

“Yeah, I, uh — I couldn't sleep, so I… I gave up.” That sounds plausible, Dean thought. He went straight for the coffee machine, the whole time spent to make sure he kept his back to the angel. “What are you doing here?”

“I was out with Glenn and there was a long wait for a taxi back to his apartment, so I offered him my bed for the night. Oh, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Nah, not at all, man. It is your room after all.”

The room you just had sex with your boyfriend in. You think you can hide it, but I can see the hickey on your neck. Dean had spent most of his teenage years trying to hide multiple love bites, and it’s something of an art form he has perfected in covering them up — one that surprisingly needed more than just a high collared shirt, and sometimes needed some make up (which he would borrow from the girl he was with. One time, he even stole some foundation from a cute blonde he was seeing in Idaho ‘cause he had a job the next day. His dad would’ve killed him if he knew what he was doing). It’s something that takes experience and practice to hide, but Cas had neither of those things. It was half visible just by the collar of the robe, bright purple and slightly red, meaning it was fresh, but littered next to it were a few discoloured ones, meaning they were a few days old…

Dean shook the thought out of his head. Focus on the coffee, not on that. “I feel as if I haven't seen you in a while. You good?”

“I am well. I apologise for my absence. I know I have been… remiss of late.”

Dean almost forgot about the mug in his hand, because Cas really did sound guilty about that. “That’s not your fault. I understand, Sam too. Things are different now. We have to make the best of it.”

For the both of us.

Besides the boiling of coffee pot, the room was silent between them. Dean wasn't in the mood to talk, not after the evening he just had, combined with the lack of sleep, he didn't think he could handle it. So he poured his attention over his coffee mug, waiting for the end of the rumbling pot so he can make his coffee and get the hell out of there.

If only…

“Dean,” Cas whispered, his voice reverent. “I want to thank you.”

It was a good thing Dean had put the mug down. If he was holding it, it would smashed onto the floor, and he ended up stuttering: “Thank me? What for? I ain’t done anything.”

“No, but you have. You have,” Cas insisted. “I understand that my relationship with Glenn has advanced rather quickly, and I don’t get to see much of you and Sam anymore, but… how do I put this correctly? It’s almost the same way as you were with Lisa. I know how much you loved her and how losing her was devastating, but I think Glenn might be your Lisa. No, that’s not right. He’s the Lisa to my — that’s not it.”

“He’s the Lisa to your Dean?” Dean helped out.

“I believe that is correct.”

Dean couldn't help but laugh. It has been so long since he has seen Cas’ that his awkward concept of phrases make him giddy. “Yeah, maybe not completely. I was in love with Lisa.”

When Cas didn't reply, Dean froze. This was suppose to be Cas’ turn to agree with him or acknowledge the difference, but he was silent. Which could only mean one thing: there was no difference. No difference between them. “You’re in love with Glenn.”

Dean didn't look at Cas, but it didn't change the punch to his gut when he finally answered him. “Yes. I believe so.”

Cas said some other stuff, other stuff that might have been important, or about how great his relationship was — Dean didn't listen. He was struck with a horrible sense of vertigo. The mug seemed to have turned into four flying objects in front of him, making him grip onto the counter for support. He spent most of his time trying not to fall, not to cry, or maybe not to throw up. It didn't matter which one was important. He felt like doing all three.

Thankfully, Cas didn't seem to notice Dean’s distress and kept on talking. “— I know people would find it silly for me to say this, but everything about being with Glenn, or just being in the same proximity to him… it just feels… right, you know. I just wanted to thank you, Dean. For being okay with this.”

Just nod and pretend you agree. That’s all Cas wants. For you to agree. Lie through your teeth and make sure he is happy. That’s important. You can do this. Just tell him what he wants to hear, just tell him —

I can’t do it anymore.

“That’s the problem, Cas. I’m not okay with this.”

Dean finally turned to look at Cas, his heart almost breaking at the confused and bewildered look on his face. “I’ve never been okay with this. I tried to be, but I can’t. The whole thing makes me sick to my stomach.”

“Dean?” Cas said, but his voice broke a little bit. Slowly, but surely, the reality of what Dean was admitting to started to sink in, and his confusion bled away into devastation.

“I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean apologised. Suddenly it had all become too much and he had a clawing feeling under his skin to get the hell out of here.

“Dean!” Cas called out to him as Dean ran out.

He forgot about his coffee. Dean grabbed his jacket, left the Bunker and drove away in the Impala as fast as possible.

Shit, what have I done?!

It took about an hour for Dean to calm down. He had driven around town for awhile until he finally parked up by some quiet lot. He was able to watch the sun rise up gradually, lighting up the sky with yellow and orange, something so beautiful to witness… until he realised just how badly he screwed up.

Did I actually say those things?

Fuck. Oh, fuck!

What do I do? How do I make this right? Shit! What the fuck have I done?!

What have I done?!

By the time Dean made it back to the Bunker, it was still early, so Sam and Glenn were probably still asleep, (Sam was a health nut, but even he was partial to the occasional lay in) so he wasn't expecting to see him this early. That was good. He didn't need an audience for this.

Cas was in the library, dressed in his suit and trench coat, but he was still as a statue. He didn't even look up at Dean when he approached him. Dean waited, hoping for Cas to say something, but it looked like he was the one who had to start this.

“Cas? Buddy?” Cas didn't even move or respond to Dean, so he kept talking. “Cas, I am so sorry for what I said earlier. I was having a bad moment, but I’m over it now. What I said… I didn't mean it.”

“Yes, you did,” Cas finally spoke, looking up at Dean. “I know you, Dean. I know when you are being honest, and you meant every single word you said.”

There was no point in lying about that, even if it was giving Cas the wrong idea. “Okay, I can’t explain my way out of that one, but what I think doesn't matter. This relationship isn't about me, it’s about you and Glenn.”

“But it does matter,” Cas insisted. “It matters to me.”

“Cas…”

“You never displayed homophobic tendencies to me before.”

“I know, but—”

“And you’re incredibly accepting of Charlie.”

“Yes, but—”

“So that suggests you have a problem with Glenn.”

Dean didn't say anything. He didn't have too.

“Why?” Cas asked. “Glenn has been nothing but kind to you. He likes you a lot. Why don’t you like him?”

Dean sighed. “I can’t explain it, Cas.”

“Why not?” Cas pleaded.

“Because I don’t understand it myself,” Dean admitted. Cas had to look away from him, his face pinched as if he was trying to hide just how upset he was, and closed his eyes. Dean quickly grabbed the spare seat next to him and leaned forward. “Cas, what I think doesn't matter. It shouldn’t. You are happy with Glenn so this shouldn't change anything. You can still go out with Glenn and still be friends with us. Don’t let this change anything.”

Cas sighed. “Dean, you can’t ask me to do that.”

“Yes, you can. You’re with Glenn most of the time anyway.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

That stopped Dean in his tracks. There was something about the way Cas said that… something didn't feel right about it. “What do you mean, Cas?”

Cas took a deep breath before he blurted out. “I’ve never liked most of your paramours.”

Dean blinked in confusion. “Okay?”

“Let me finish; I never liked most of your paramours, but I never said anything. As much as I disagreed with them, they made you happy at the time. They never lasted for long, but I never said anything because I liked seeing you happy. I always thought you would give me the same consideration. I was wrong. I’ve been spending the past few hours re-thinking everything about our friendship, and I realised… I realised that maybe I’ve overestimated how close of a friend you are to me.” Cas bowed his head, focusing on his hands. “Maybe I am a closer friend to you than you are to me.”

“No,” Dean blurted out, his eyes pleading. “Cas, that’s not true. This isn't about that. You are my best friend, I will always be there for you!”

Cas looked up, his eyes searching into Dean’s and Dean couldn't help but appreciate how blue they are. How sad they are, as well. “But you weren’t. I needed you to be my friend, but you judged. You judged me openly, with disgust, and I don’t know if I can pretend it didn't happen. I can’t pretend that it didn't hurt me.”

“I’m so sorry, Cas,” Dean apologised.

“So am I,” Cas agreed solemnly. “I’ve been sitting here, trying to find ways I could to make it up to you, but I could never find a solution. So I’ve reached a separate decision. I’m not giving up Glenn. I can’t and I don’t want to, and if that is going to be a problem, then… then maybe it’s best if we… give ourselves time to re-evaluate our friendship.”

Dean could only stare back at Cas, waiting for a moment where Cas would say something that would erase everything about this entire night, about… about… what? “What are you saying, Cas?”

Cas took a moment to carefully phrase his next admission. “Glenn’s roommate moved out last week. He’s been asking me to stay with him for awhile and maybe now is the time to take up the opportunity. If this relationship bothers you as much as it does, then maybe it is best for me to stay away for a period of time.”

Dean had to take a deep breath, blinked furiously until he cleared his throat. “… So, you’re moving out.”

“I think we need to put some distance between us.”

Don’t sugar-coat it. Dean growled, “You’re moving out.”

“Yes,” Cas stated. He looked up at Dean to see his reaction, but Dean’s expression was pure steel. He had years to hide how he feels, ever since he was a kid, ever since his life went to shit, but he had never thanked for that skill until now. He didn't say anything else to Cas. He just walked away. If Cas called out to him, he didn't look back or answer. He just kept walking.

He found himself in his bedroom and his shattered things. It was baffling to him that it was only this morning that he was full of pent up anger and homicidal rage that caused him to destroy his possessions, even kill Glenn. Part of Dean knew that if he saw Glenn in that kitchen instead of Cas, he couldn't promise that he wouldn't have harmed him. Actually, he wouldn't be afraid to say that he definitely would've killed him. Now all Dean can feel is an exhaustion so deep it weighed down his bones. In the end, that was how he ended up on the floor, head resting against the door, so close to falling apart.

He looked around his room one last time, at every time he broke — there was nothing else for him to break, so instead, Dean finally let the tears fall, and he sobbed until he finally fell into an exhausted sleep.

Cas moved out that very day.

Since he was an angel he didn't have a lot of stuff. He never changed his clothes or had any personal possessions; he just had the things he needed — his angel blade, his cell phone, and maybe a few dollars in cash. He didn't even wait for Dean to come and say goodbye. By the time Dean was ready to face him once his red eyes had subdued and his runny nose was under control, but when he knocked on his door, the angel wasn't there. He looked around the entire Bunker calling out or him, but there was no answer. After a few minutes, he realised that the angel was gone.

Angels don’t sleep. That’s a fact. Dean was looking around Castiel’s bedroom, it was obvious that it was hardly touched. There wasn't a dent in the pillows, the sheets were ironed perfectly flat — so flat that you could toss a penny on it — and Cas kept this place spotless. He had been living in this room for months, and yet nothing seemed out of place. Everything had it’s own specific spot and it hardly ever moved, judging by the layer of dust surrounding it. If Cas was here, would he have cleaned that up? Maybe he would have.

But that was a month ago and there was dust on his bedside table.

Cas kept to his word. He gave Dean time and space to “re-evaluate their friendship.” Cas must have made his mind up because he hasn't spoken to the hunter since that awful night. Not one call, not a text, not even an absent minded second hand message from Sam to him, because that’s who he calls now. Sam. Whenever there was a case, it was Sam he would call, if he wanted an update, call Sam, if he just wanted to say hi, it was always to Sam. The angel never asked about Dean. Not once.

He had completely cut Dean off. And Dean was beginning to wonder maybe this was for the best.

He kept tabs on him, though. He kept checking Glenn’s Facebook page. If that guy moved, he would post it online for the world to see, and he was parading pictures of him and Cas together like a fashion trend. All sappy and romantic, all kisses and smiles. Cas happy and content…

That would be easy to bear. Not having the angel in his life… that was hard. No, that’s not the right word. It was heartbreaking.

In the end, Dean shouldn't have been too surprised.

Cas met someone else. He should’ve known it was going to happen. Anyone with eyes could see he was a great person. He would always do the right thing, even in his misguided naivety. Of course someone else would see that too and not make the mistake of letting him go.

And Cas deserves to be happy.

But why couldn't he have been happy with me?

It wasn't easy trying to explain his way out to Sam about the mess in his room. It looked like a bomb went off and it spooked the hell out of Sam, even to the point where he begged Dean to talk about what was wrong.

But that was the one thing Dean was consistent on: never talking about it.

Maybe that was the problem.

No matter how many times Sam tried to talk to Dean, he never opened up.

Dean was making dinner in the kitchen when Sam came home. He was chopping up potatoes when he heard the familiar creek of the Bunker door, followed by Sam’s heavy footsteps that grew louder until he walked into the kitchen.

“Hey,” Sam said. Dean gave a gruff reply. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Dean said.

“I, uh,” Sam stuttered before he cleared his throat. “I bumped into Cas.”

“Yeah? How is he?”

“Good. He’s good. He was shopping for Glenn’s birthday.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah, they’re having a party. Cas asked if I wanted to come.”

“Well, I hope you have fun. Just don’t get too bladdered this time. The last thing you need is to get all mushy and loved up with the fat chick at the party,” Dean joked, but it was a half-assed attempt. Sam didn't laugh or reply to that. Suddenly, there was a loud bang that made Dean jump. He turned around to see one of the chairs laying on the floor, with a livid Sam staring back at Dean.

“What happened?” Sam demanded.

“Say again?”

“You and Cas. What the hell happened?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit!” Sam cursed. “Bullshit, come on! You think I’m gonna fall for that? You think I haven’t noticed the fact that you guys don’t talk to each other anymore?”

“It’s none of your business, Sammy,” Dean snapped, returning to cutting up the potatoes.

“I’m making it my business! Cas told me he hasn't spoken to you in over a month, not since he moved out. He told me he didn't think you would want to talk to him, and I was very confused because I was under the impression that it was the other way around and that Cas didn't want to talk to you. Please tell me what happened?”

“I can’t.”

“Why?” Sam asked desperately.

“Just drop it!” Dean almost shouted, and it shut Sam up. “Sometimes things happen, and sometimes little brothers need to keep their noses out of other people’s business. But I am begging you, Sam, please drop this.”

Dean didn't wait for Sam’s reply. He went back to slicing, and the air was heavy with silence. When they did speak again, it was Sam who spoke first, this time more gentle and compassionate. “I know it must be hard. Cas was the first guy you ever liked since Jason, and it didn't work out. I know you don't like to talk about it, but… I don't know what to do here, Dean. All I want to do here is help.”

Dean froze stock still, pausing in the middle of chopping. He went over what Sam said, his thought narrowing in on one word. “Jason?”

“Yeah,” Sam answered, not noticing the stiffness in his brother’s posture. “It was a long time ago, and things have changed. It doesn't have to be so difficult this time. But we need to talk about this.”

Jason? How did Sam know about Jason?

He couldn't have. We were carefully. Nobody knew about us. If they did then Jason wouldn't have been the only one. And there is no way Sam would have kept it a secret to himself he had had known all these years—

Dean suddenly realised. It was like all the puzzle pieces finally fit together, and he got a clear picture that finally made sense.

He didn’t know.

He still doesn't know.

Because you’re not Sam.

“Okay,” Dean finally answered.

“What?” Sam asked.

“Okay, I’ll tell you.”

“You will?” Sam sounded relieved.

Dean looked down at the knife in his hand, clearing the last bits of potato peel off and discarding it onto the chopping board. “In fact, I’ll tell you exactly what I think.”

Dean gripped the knife tight in his palm. Sam had no idea what was happening until after Dean struck. One of the perks of being a hunter; your reflexes sharpen up a bit, because he had “Sam” pinned up against the wall, the sharpest point of the knife digging into his neck.

“Who are you?”

“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam asked, wide eyed and fearful.

“Who the hell are you, ‘cause you ain’t my brother.”

Sam gave Dean an odd look. “What? Dean, yes I am.”

“No, you’re not. You’re just a good copy of him. You look and sound like my brother, but you are not him. Where is he? What have you done to him? What are you?”

“Dean! I am Sam! I am your brother! Listen to me, you are not thinking straight.”

“Oh, yes I am. I’m thinking clearly now. It all makes sense. I should've realised how strange it was that it was you who thought Cas was seeing someone. You never pick up on these things, but you happen to notice this? Come on! Or, how every time I refused to talk about what I’m feeling, something terrible happens? Like that night when Cas decided to get his rocks off in the Bunker? This is all part of your plan, isn’t it? But why? What do you want?”

The point of the blade dug further into Sam’s neck, enough to case a trickle of blood to roll down his Adam’s apple. “Oh, my God, you’ve cracked. You’ve actually lost it.”

“What. Are. You?” Dean growled.

“Real! This is real! Dean, I am sorry about Cas and Glenn, but this is all real. You’re upset, I get it, but this isn't the right way to go about it. So why don’t you put the knife down, okay? Let me prove it to you that I am not a monster, but you gotta put down the knife. Please?”

Sam looked down, pleading at his brother with his signature puppy eyes, and any other time, Dean would've fallen for it. But not now. He won’t be fooled again.

“No.”

Dean took that knife and plunged it into Sam’s neck. His eyes widened, the pain reaching ever feature on his face, with a trickle of blood dropping from the corner his mouth and all over Dean’s hand. In one last attempt, Sam clutched at Dean’s shoulder, spasming uncontrollably and choking on his own blood.

Sam slid down to the floor in a slump, finally lifeless.

Dean watched the figure, waiting for the moment for the monster to make its grand entrance, but every second made Dean stare at the body of his younger brother, and Dean started to panic.

“Sam?”

The body didn't move. His head was hanging, the blood soaking into his clothes getting larger and larger.

“Sammy? Dean asked again. He lifted his brothers face in his hands — his eyes were closed and the blood was still dribbling down his chin, but nothing happened. “No, no no — wake up. This isn't funny anymore — Wake up!”

But the body wouldn't move.

Oh God. No. No, I didn't— No!

“Sam!” Dean cried. He desperately hugged his brother close to his chest before laying him down on his back on the floor, not knowing what to do. He paced around the kitchen, looking back at Sam’s life less body, and… he couldn't think. His chest was welling up in blind panic and crushing sorrow and guilt.

What have I done? God, what have I done?

He was going to call Cas. Cas would help him, he had to. He wouldn't just—

Suddenly, Dean felt a thud on the back of his head and he ended up on his knees. He clutched the part of his skull that was throbbing, his eyes seeing dancing stars and patchy colours. Then something else kicked him in the stomach, causing him to cry out and groan in pain. Dean blinked the stars out of his vision, finally able to see what had attacked him.

It was Sam. He was standing over him, the knife still in his neck, and his face one of pure fury — but it wasn't Sam. This Sam’s eyes were a smoke filled blue, glowing as bright as Sam’s anger.

“You think you can just kill me and walk away?” Sam asked.

Before Dean could say anything, he was kicked across the face again. Dean groaned out in agony, spitting out a mouthful of blood, but it wasn't over. Sam grabbed him by the shirt, lifting him up with inhuman strength, making him look at the copy of his brother.

“Do you really think I would make it that easy?”

As Sam spoke Dean realised that his face was morphing — a glow of blue smoke permeated from him and his smooth skin darkened until patterns began to paint across his forehead, his cheeks, nose — tattoos. They were tattoos.

Blue smoke and tattoos?

Fuck, Dean realised. It’s a Djinn.

“Well guess what, asshole?” Sam continued. “Now you’ve really pissed me off.”

Then Sam punched him harder across the face and everything went black.