Everything That Matters - Chapter Five
Dean pulled up in front of Lisa’s house Sunday afternoon and cut the engine. Lisa knelt next to the front walk, pulling weeds, and she rose to greet Ben as he scampered towards the house. “Hey, sweetie. Did you have fun?”
Ben shrugged. “Yeah. I’m going over to Trevor’s to play Wii.”
Lisa smiled and shared a look with Dean. “Put your things away first.”
Dean shoved his hands in his pockets, uncertain of how to ask if he could stay for a little while because he didn’t really want to go home to an empty apartment.
Dean didn’t have to ask, though, because when he didn’t leave immediately, Lisa sat back on her heels and looked up at him. “It’s hot out here,” she observed. “And I could use a beer. You interested?”
“Yeah, that would be great,” he managed.
They sat down at the kitchen table, the bottles already beginning to bead up with condensation, and Dean took a long drink.
“How’s your friend?” Lisa asked.
Dean shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t-” He stopped as Ben stuck his head in the room.
“I’m heading to Trevor’s,” Ben announced. “See you later.”
“Not so fast,” Lisa replied, beckoning him over. Ben put up with her kiss on the cheek with minimal rolling of his eyes. Ben slapped Dean’s hand on his way out of the kitchen when Dean offered his palm.
Lisa waited until the front door slammed behind Ben before asking, “What happened?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Dean was quick to assure her.
Lisa pursed her lips. “Dean, would you quit worrying about it?”
“About what?”
“Whatever it is that you’re worried about.” She sighed. “I don’t know what it is, but I can see you doing it.”
Dean began picking the label of his bottle of beer off in small strips. “You ever think that there are people you can’t save?” he asked in lieu of answering her question.
“Of course. There are people who destroy themselves or are destroyed by something external, even something evil.” Lisa reached out to grab his hand, stopping his nervous movements. “You know that better than I do.”
Dean stared at her hand-slender fingers with neatly trimmed nails, a trace of dirt leftover from weeding on her thumb. He’d always thought that hands were the best indicator of a person’s life-the hands showed age and hard work in ways a person couldn’t hide.
He watched as her thumb drifted across his knuckles, and traced the ridge of scar tissue Dean couldn’t remember getting.
“You can’t save everyone,” she said, giving his hand a final squeeze before sitting back in her seat. “Do you want to stay for dinner?”
Dean swallowed. “Yeah. That would be great.”
In Lisa’s company, Dean could forget about Cas and what had happened between them, Cas’ complete disregard for his health and his future.
By the time he got back to the apartment, it was after nine. Dean stuck around until Ben came home, and Dean had fixed a few things Lisa hadn’t gotten around to fixing. She didn’t need his help, but Dean liked being handy, and he still felt as though he owed her. It was nice to have an opportunity to repay her.
From the parking lot, Dean could look up to his own balcony, and he spotted the light burning immediately. Since he knew he hadn’t left the lamp on, that meant Cas had come back.
He gave brief consideration to turning around and just driving off, maybe even going back to Lisa’s to bunk on her couch for the night. It was his apartment, and he could just kick Cas out-again-if Cas was anything but sober, but Dean didn’t want to deal with Cas when he was high or drunk. He just couldn’t sustain the kind of anger that had made him kick Cas out on Friday.
Dean was just tired-tired of losing people he cared about one way or another, and ready to pack it in and give up.
He shook off the reluctance and headed inside, knowing that the confrontation would have to take place at some point, and it was better to get it over with now than let it fester.
Cas was sitting on the couch, wrists resting on his knees, and Dean stared at the back of Cas’ neck, the dark curls of hair against tanned skin, the curve of his spine.
“Hey,” Dean said.
“Hey.”
Cas didn’t move, and Dean walked around the couch and cautiously took a seat in his ancient, ugly recliner. “Didn’t know if I’d see you again,” he admitted.
“I thought about leaving.” Cas’ low, hoarse voice had his stomach twisting. “I thought about not coming back.”
“Why did you?”
“I don’t know how to be human,” Cas admitted. “I don’t know how to be sober-but I don’t know how to live without you either.”
Dean’s stomach gave another hard flip, and Cas looked up then. Dean could see the dark shadows under his deep-set eyes, the thick stubble and pallor, and even though Cas’ hands were trembling, and his eyes were bloodshot, he spoke clearly.
“You’re not on anything.”
“I haven’t used since you kicked me out. You told me not to.” Cas gave a bitter little laugh. “I was always good at following orders.”
Dean winced, but he pressed a little harder. “I can’t have a repeat of Friday, Cas. If you-”
“I know.” Cas cut him off impatiently, looking down again. “I-for you, I think I can do it. I want to try.”
Dean wasn’t sure he could stand letting Cas try, only to have him fail. “And if I slip, I’ll just plan on not coming back here,” Cas added, as though reading Dean’s mind.
Dean nodded slowly. He didn’t have so many friends that he could afford to lose one, not if he didn’t have to, and Dean figured he had maybe half a chance at not losing Cas.
“Have you eaten?” Dean asked finally.
Cas shook his head. “I-half the time I don’t remember to be hungry.”
Dean remembered Jimmy Novak wolfing down burger after burger, and he thought he understood. “You want a sandwich?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Cas was so formal, his face so blank, that Dean couldn’t help but remember Cas as he ‘d been before falling-Castiel, whom Dean hadn’t seen in months. “Hey, you okay?” Dean asked, sitting down next to Cas gingerly.
“I-no.” Cas glanced up again then, and Dean could read the sheer misery in Cas’ eyes. “No.”
The first few weeks after he’d lost Sam, Dean hadn’t been certain he’d survive. Every movement, every breath, had been painful. Dean hadn’t known how he was supposed to keep his promise to Sam. How the hell was he supposed to go on with his life, when Sam was in hell?
And now, he saw a reflection of that misery on Cas’ face, and Dean had no idea how to help.
Lisa had mostly left him alone, but Dean didn’t think that would work here. At least, Dean had tried that strategy, and all that had happened was that Cas went off the rails.
“Okay,” Dean began, and then stopped when Cas snorted and looked away. “Fine, it’s not okay, but…” Dean cupped a hand around the back of Cas’ neck. He meant it to be a comforting gesture, but Cas looked up, and Dean saw a measure of heat in Cas’ gaze that he hadn’t expected. “Can I ask you a question?”
Cas nodded, the movement jerky; he’d gone very still under Dean’s hand.
“That other me-and you. Were you-involved?”
“No.” Cas’ voice was hoarse, and he sounded absolutely wrecked. “You-he lost all faith in me. He had no use for me.”
“I’ve always thought he was an idiot.” Dean leaned in for a hesitant kiss, his lips meeting Cas’ briefly before he pulled back again. “You should eat,” he murmured. “You’ll feel better once you do.”
“So you say.”
Dean squeezed, feeling Cas’ hot skin under his hand. “Yeah, it works for me. Want a beer?”
“Yes.”
Cas followed him to the kitchen, sitting slumped at the table as Dean threw together a few sandwiches, knowing from experience that although Cas might not realize he was hungry, he’d scarf his food once he started.
Sure enough, Cas plowed through two turkey sandwiches before he slowed down enough to actually taste the third. “Sorry,” Cas muttered. “I didn’t realize I was so hungry.”
“What have you been eating this weekend?” Dean asked.
Cas shrugged. “This and that. I was fine.”
“Where were you sleeping?”
“Here and there. You-he taught me well. I know how to stay low.”
“I know.” Dean hesitated. “Come to bed, Cas.”
Cas hesitated. “I don’t-”
“To sleep. The bed’s big enough for both of us. I shared with-I shared with Sam often enough that we should be fine.” Dean managed to say Sam’s name without choking on it, even though it was more difficult than he’d like, given how much time had gone by.
Cas nodded. “I-I wouldn’t mind a shower.”
“Sure. Get cleaned up,” Dean replied. “I’ll be there in a minute, okay?”
Dean watched Cas shuffle off to his bedroom and wondered what the hell he was getting himself into. It was one thing to let Cas sleep on his couch-it was something else to fuck him, and he knew that’s where this thing between them was headed now. Dean couldn’t believe he was even giving it serious thought, but he wanted this.
Dean wanted this like he hadn’t wanted anything in a long time, and he couldn’t quite help but think that maybe this would give Cas the anchor he needed to stick around.
Cas didn’t know if this was such a good idea; he wondered if Dean understood that for all of the people Cas had slept with, Dean was the only person he’d ever wanted.
Dean was already in bed reading a battered paperback by the time Cas emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered and teeth brushed.
“Vonnegut?” Cas asked.
Dean held up the book so that Cas could see the title: Slaughterhouse Five. “How’d you know?”
“It’s the author you go to when you’re worried about something,” Cas replied automatically.
Dean’s face was half in shadow, the lamp angled so that it would hit the pages of the book, and Cas couldn’t read his expression. “You know me really well, don’t you?”
“I knew him,” Cas said honestly. “Sometimes I wonder if I know you at all.”
“Not a lot to know,” Dean replied easily. “I’m just a regular guy.”
“There’s never been anything ‘regular’ about you, Dean.”
Cas felt as though a switch had been flipped. He’d never been particularly shy about speaking his mind, or saying how he felt, but Cas couldn’t hold back now. He didn’t want to, and he couldn’t stop. He felt the need to lay it all out on the line for Dean.
Dean folded down a corner to mark his place and set the book aside. “I’m not him.”
“I know. That’s why I came back.” Cas touched Dean’s face, tilting Dean’s head towards him, and leaning in for another kiss. Dean relaxed into the touch, into the kiss, his hand finding a place on Cas’ hip. “I never thought you’d want this.”
Dean smiled, his expression enigmatic. “I’ve wanted this for longer than you know.”
There wasn’t a lot of talking after that. Cas tugged Dean closer, wanting the distraction of flesh on flesh, of hands and lips and teeth and tongues. If he lost himself in Dean, maybe Cas wouldn’t want his next high so much, maybe he could forget that he felt as though he could fly apart at any moment.
Dean pulled back long enough to pull his t-shirt off over his head, exposing the smooth, hard planes of his chest, the ward on his pectoral, and sending the amulet swinging. Cas closed his fist around the amulet, and Dean went still above him.
“I thought-I thought this was lost,” Cas managed.
Dean’s expression was unreadable. “You-he-” Dean stopped. “This is confusing.”
“Castiel gave it back to you,” Cas prompted.
Dean nodded. “When he gave up on his search for God, yeah. I threw it away, but Sam dug it out and held onto it for me. I found it after-I found it after I lost him.”
“It’s back where it belongs now,” Cas murmured, and pressed his lips to Dean’s chest briefly before swirling his tongue around Dean’s left nipple.
Dean groaned. “Oh, fuck, Cas. Yeah.”
Cas rolled, putting Dean under him, and Cas shoved his hand down the front of Dean’s boxers, taking Dean’s cock in hand, jacking him off with a slow, deliberate rhythm that soon had Dean arching up under him, whimpering a bit.
Dean’s hand fisted in the sheets as he came over Cas’ fist in quick spurts. Cas released him, and glanced around for something to wipe the come off.
“Hey, where are you going?” Dean asked, his voice slurring with exhaustion and satisfaction.
“I’m going to get cleaned up.” Cas ended up going to the bathroom, wiping his hand with a wad of toilet paper, flushing it when he’d managed to wipe most of it off and washing his hands.
Dean was a little more alert when Cas slid into bed, still half-hard. “What about you?” Dean murmured.
“I’m fine.” Cas put his hand over Dean’s heart. “I’ll let you return the favor some other time.”
“Get some sleep,” Dean ordered, the seriousness broken up by a yawn. “That’s what we both need, is sleep.”
“Yeah, that’s what we need,” Cas replied, placating him.
He watched as Dean slid down into sleep after only a few moments, but Cas couldn’t quiet his thoughts enough to follow. Cas lay there for a long time, staring up at the ceiling and listening to Dean breathe.
In the two weeks Cas had been staying with him, Dean had noticed that he was unbelievably difficult to wake up in the morning, which made the fact that Cas got up with him on Monday all the more surprising.
“You can sleep if you want,” Dean said as he pulled on a grease-stained pair of jeans and an ancient t-shirt. “You don’t have to be up.”
“I might as well,” Cas replied, sitting up and beginning to look around on the floor for his clothes.
“I’ll drive you to the store tonight,” Dean promised, rummaging in a drawer and tossing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt in Cas’ general direction. “You could use another set of clean clothes.”
Cas shook his head. “I’m fine.”
“And if you’re going to find a job, you’ll definitely need new clothes,” Dean added as though he hadn’t heard Cas.
Cas snorted. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”
“You forget,” Dean replied. “Sam and I were making fake I.D. by the time we were in high school. I can get you whatever qualifications you want. Hell, I could probably teach you how to fix cars given enough time.”
Cas pulled the borrowed clothes on slowly. “Do we have that much time?”
“We’ve got all the time in the world,” Dean replied. “But I figured you’d want to start work sooner. You could use the distraction, and you’d probably be happier with money of your own.”
“Maybe.” Cas’ tone was grudging. “But how the hell am I supposed to go on about my business, find a job, pretend to be normal, when I don’t even know why I’m here?”
Cas had a point, Dean thought. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to attempt normal in Cas’ shoes either. “What if I could find out?” Dean asked, his voice low and hoarse.
Cas frowned. “I thought you said you didn’t have any leads.”
“Bobby didn’t have any leads, and I don’t know of anybody else I could ask, but I could probably try calling your counterpart.”
Cas frowned. “You-you mean you’d pray. For me.”
“To you,” Dean corrected him. “Sort of. And I wouldn’t call it praying. I’m still not really on speaking terms with God.”
Cas stared at Dean, clearly not comprehending. “And he’ll come?”
“I don’t know,” Dean admitted. “Maybe he won’t, maybe he’ll ignore me, but I figure it’s the only shot we have. I won’t try if you don’t want me to, though.”
Cas stared at his hands for a long moment, and Dean flushed, remembering just exactly how Cas’ hands had taken him apart the night before. “No. No, I think-you should. I need to know.”
“Okay.” Dean took a deep breath. “Look, maybe we could give it a little time, give you some time to…” He trailed off, not quite knowing how to explain what they might be waiting for. “I’ve got some time off coming,” Dean added. “We could take a long weekend and go up and see Bobby. I promised him I’d visit this summer.”
“Whatever you want,” Cas replied, not looking up.
Dean swallowed. “Right. So…you want to stop by the shop around noon today? We’ll grab lunch.”
“You don’t have to stay with me every minute, Dean.” Cas’ tone had a hint of that same asperity he’d perfected while still an angel, and Dean grinned. “I’ll be fine.”
“Stop by the shop,” Dean repeated. “It’ll be good for you to get out.”
Cas shrugged. “Fine, if that’s what you want.”
“It’s what I want.”
Dean suspected that orders eased Cas’ mind in a way that freedom didn’t; Cas had spent millennia following directives from on high, and even in that terrifying future Dean had visited, Cas had still been following orders.
Cas shrugged eloquently, but Dean thought he saw a pleased smile playing around the corners of his mouth and in the lines around his eyes.
Dean had to leave; he needed to get to work, but after what they’d done last night, after sharing a bed, Dean felt strange just walking out.
“So, I’ll see you at lunch, then?” Dean asked.
“Yes.” Cas raised his eyebrows. “You’re going to be late.”
“I know.” Two quick steps took him across the room, and Dean met Cas’ lips with his own, hoping that the kiss was enough of a promise to keep Cas satisfied for the day. “I’ll see you later.”
Dean left before the moment could become more like a chick flick than it already was. If Sam had been around, he would be laughing his ass off.
Cas had no idea what to do with his time, which was one of the reasons he’d been high so much over the last week.
He had been a fucking angel-a warrior of God-and Cas didn’t know what to do if he wasn’t hunting and killing. Clearly, Dean wasn’t going to get with that program, but Cas missed that clarity of purpose, missed how easy it had been to go out and smite those he’d been told to smite-or to kill the Croats.
Right now, he was drifting, and without the drugs to ease the passage, Cas wasn’t sure what rocky shores upon which he ended up capsized.
And boy, was that a ridiculous metaphor, he thought.
After four hours of inane TV talk shows, Cas was grateful as hell for the chance to get out of the apartment. After lunch, he’d figure out what he was going to do next.
Cas knew the way to the garage by heart, even if he’d never stopped by in the past. Dean had told him where he worked in case of emergency, and Cas had walked past a few times, but he’d never sought Dean out.
Today, he stopped in front of the building and considered running yet again. If he just walked away, if he left now, Cas could live however he wished; he could take whatever he wanted, and just float through until the end of his days.
Instead, Cas walked into the front office, hearing the jangling of the bell above the door.
“Can I help you?” The young man-no more than a boy, really-sitting at the front desk was chewing on a piece of gum, appearing bored and disinterested.
“I’m looking for Dean,” Cas replied. “Dean Winchester? I’m supposed to be meeting him for lunch.”
The boy shrugged. “Go on through.”
Cas hesitated, and then began walking in the direction that the boy had indicated by a jerk of his head. The banging and hydraulics filled his ears, and Cas quickly spotted Dean, his legs sticking out from under an old four-door sedan.
“Can I help you?” The man who spoke to him was balding, portly, and eyeing Cas with some distrust. The name on his coveralls was “Tom”.
“I’m here to meet Dean for lunch,” Cas explained. “I’m a friend from out of town.” Tom’s silence loosened Cas’ tongue. “He asked me to meet him?”
Tom shrugged. “I’ll let him know.”
Cas watched as Tom walked over, nudging Dean’s leg with the toe of his boot. Dean rolled out from under the car and sat up, grinning at Cas as soon as he caught sight of him. He said something to Tom that Cas couldn’t make out over the din.
Dean walked across the tiled floor towards Cas. “Let me get washed up. There’s a place down the street that has decent food.”
“I’ll be outside,” Cas promised.
He stood with his back against the sun-warmed brick, staring up into the bright blue, cloudless sky. Cas felt empty, hollowed out, and he had no idea what Dean could want from him that Cas would still have left to give.
“Hey. Ready for lunch?”
Cas shrugged his reply and fell into step next to Dean, close enough so that their shoulders brushed every other step.
“The diner has a decent lunch menu,” Dean offered. “Kind of like the places Sam and I used to go.”
“Those places usually have good burgers,” Cas observed, noncommittally. He wanted to ask Dean if it was possible to find a hunt, because he was certain that he’d feel a hell of a lot better if he could kill something.
“I called Bobby this morning,” Dean said before Cas could bring it up. “I figure we can head up there next weekend. My boss didn’t have a problem with me taking the afternoon off on Friday, and I can take Monday, too.”
Cas didn’t know how he felt about seeing Bobby again, but he knew that Dean wanted to make a visit, and Cas didn’t want to be left alone.
Dean ignored the bell that rang above his head as he pushed the door of the diner open. He led the way to an open booth, and Cas slid in opposite Dean. The menus sat in a holder on the side of the booth against the wall, but Dean stayed Cas’ hand as he reached for one. “Get the cheeseburger. Trust me on this one.”
Cas nodded. “Yeah, okay. Sounds good.”
The waitress who approached their booth wore a nametag that read: “Angie” and Cas knew immediately by her expression that Dean was a regular here.
“Your usual, Dean?” she asked with a flirtatious smile.
Dean offered his best smile in return. “Yeah, and the same for my friend here.”
Angie grinned at him. “And you’re going to let him order for you?”
“He knows what’s good,” Cas replied. “And I like cheeseburgers.”
“Then you’re in for a treat,” Angie promised. “Anything to drink?”
“Coffee,” Dean replied.
Cas hesitated for a moment before he said, “Water, please.”
“You got it, sugar.”
Cas looked at Dean across the pale green Formica booth. “How often do you come here?”
“A couple days a week,” Dean admitted. “Although I try to switch it up on occasion, to keep Lisa off my back.” He shrugged. “She worries about my cholesterol.”
“Life is too short for that kind of thing,” Cas murmured.
Dean shrugged. “Lisa says she wants me around for a long time, and she says that Ben would want the same.”
“Any son would want his father to be alive and there for him,” Cas said uncertainly.
The sound that Dean made might have been a laugh. “And you and I would know, wouldn’t we?”
Cas was quiet. “I guess we would,” he finally agreed.
Dean glanced up as Angie deposited their drinks in front of them, murmuring a distracted “thanks” as she did so. When she’d gone, Dean began speaking again. “I loved my dad. With Ben, I’m beginning to understand how hard being a parent is, but my dad didn’t really know how to be a parent when my mom wasn’t around.”
Cas didn’t know what to say to that. “But you still loved him.”
Dean shrugged, the movement stiff and jerky. “He was my dad.”
“At least your father was present,” Cas replied, unable to stifle the bitterness.
Dean gave him a long, hard look. “Yeah, he was. You still believe in God, though?”
“I don’t have faith in him, but I don’t have a choice about believing he exists,” Cas replied. “There are times I wish I had the option.”
Dean cleared his throat. “I wish I could tell you that it gets easier.”
“It’s okay,” Cas replied. “It has to, right? I’d hate to see what would happen if it got worse.”
Dean shook his head. “Don’t say things like that. One thing a Winchester knows, it can always get worse.”
“Maybe my luck is changing,” Cas replied.
Dean smiled. “Maybe.”
One of the things Dean appreciated about living with another guy is that he felt no urge to be on his best behavior. Living with Cas-now that he wasn’t off getting high every night-was a little like sharing a motel room with Sam, mostly because neither one of them had any idea of what normal looked like.
Lisa was quick to say that she was no more normal than anyone else, but when she said that, Dean remembered Sam’s words, “I swore I was done hunting for good.”
“So what?” Dean had asked him. “You just going to live some normal, apple pie life?”
“Not normal,” Sam had replied. “Safe.”
In the end, though, Sam had been the one to reject the idea of being normal, even as he’d extracted the promise that Dean would try it out. Dean had often thought that it should have been Sam with Lisa or someone like her. Sam had four years of normal at Stanford, whereas all Dean had were four years of his childhood-and he remembered only bits and pieces.
Most of the time, Dean had felt out of his depth, stymied by simple things that everyone else took for granted. He could fake it; Dean hadn’t survived as long as he had by being unable to blend in, but most of the time he felt incredibly out of place.
Cas might have been the only person on earth who sucked at that whole normal life thing more than Dean did. It was strangely comforting.
“I’ll be home around noon,” Dean said over his first cup of coffee for the day. “We’ll head out for Bobby’s after that.”
“Why are we going to Bobby’s?” Cas asked, his hands wrapped around his own mug.
Dean had no idea why Cas had started getting up with him, but he’d been rolling out of bed the same time Dean did-sometimes literally-and usually was completely uncommunicative until he had his first cup of coffee.
Since Dean could relate, he didn’t give Cas too hard of a time.
“What do you mean?” Dean asked, surprised Cas had managed to get a question out, given his usual morning reticence.
“Why do we need to go to Bobby’s in order to contact him?”
“Technically, we don’t,” Dean admitted. “But I’ve never tried contacting an archangel before, and I don’t have any of that special holy oil. If calling him doesn’t work, we’ll need to start looking elsewhere, and Bobby has all of the research materials.”
“I see.”
“That, and there’s a lot more room at Bobby’s,” Dean said. “Hell, I can try contacting Cas outside in the salvage yard. I didn’t think you’d want to be around for that.”
“I don’t.” Cas met his eyes, and there was a wealth of pain there. “I don’t think I can.”
“Just another reason to hold this meeting at Bobby’s then.” Dean reached out to grasp Cas’ shoulder, and then gripped Cas’ shoulder before pulling him in close. “Besides, I promised Bobby I’d visit.”
“Will he really want to see me?”
Dean pressed a kiss to Cas’ lips and tasted the bitterness of coffee. “You’re with me, and you’ll be welcome.”
Cas hadn’t said much to Dean, but he’d done a lot of walking and a lot of thinking over the past few days. He felt as though he’d walked the length and breadth of Cicero.
In truth, Cas had expected to give into his craving for something to ease the pain by now, and he might have if he hadn’t needed to meet Dean for lunch on Monday, and if Dean hadn’t repaid him for Sunday night by giving Cas what had to be the best blowjob of his life that night when he’d come home.
Tuesday night, Dean had fucked him slow and steady, and Wednesday night Cas had shown Dean that he’d learned a few tricks about blowjobs over the years.
But it wasn’t the sex that kept Cas coming back for more, as good as that was; it was the sense of belonging. For the first time since Cas had lost his grace, since he’d lost all contact with his brethren, Cas felt as though he had a place.
When he’d lost his grace, Cas remembered, he’d lost Dean, too. Sam had said yes, Lucifer took up residence, and Dean had become someone Cas didn’t recognize.
Would he have been able to reach Dean if he’d tried harder? He would never know, and it was a moot point now.
And now, he had a 12-hour drive to Sioux Falls in front of him, and at the end of that trip, Cas might have the answers he sought.
He wasn’t sure what he was going to do with those answers if he found them.
Chapter Six