An UnKindness of Crows

[reticentric]

~Part Three~

Balancing the small tray of coffee in one hand and a box of breakfast donuts in the other, Dean hummed as he ascended the steps to his office. His shoulder was still sore as hell with a horrible looking bruise but he was working through the small pain. He’d managed to dress himself without bursting into tears so he decided that was a feat worth talking about. Besides it could have been so much worse. He could have burnt to a crispy potato or been eaten by the rats. He was lucky that crazy guy looked before he torched.

Frowning, he shook his head and rounded a corner, the sound of his boots loud as they thwacked against the tiles. He’d promised himself when he work up after dreaming about Castiel that he was not going to think about Castiel or what his motives were for doing what he’d done. Or the fact that he probably talked to chickens and was married to a goat. No. He was going to do his job and forget that he ever met someone so… fascinating.

A tiny grin split his lips but quickly disappeared when he realized the loud shouting he’d heard all the way downstairs was coming from his office. He quickened his steps and burst through the half closed door, arching a brow at the two strangers-male and female- taking up space, flanking either side of Jo. The man was tall and dark skinned, and looked as friendly as a pit bull, his eyes dark and watery. The girl however was his polar opposite; pale with blood red lips and springy brown curls.

She noticed him first. “Well, aren’t you a pretty one. You must be Dean.”

He shoved the stuff in his hands onto the desk. “Yeah I’m Dean. Can I help you?”

She sidled up to him, swaying into his space. “You sure can, baby.” Her big eyes rolled over him slowly. “Your freckles look like sprinkles. They’re makin’ me hungry.”

Dean blinked and took a step back, suddenly feeling like he needed a remove the bad touch shower. “Uh look lady I don’t know what you’re selling but trust me, I don’t want any.”

She smirked, licking her lips. “Mm are you this pretty when you’re fucking? I’d love to watch you ride the golden princess over there, cowboy. Bet you get even wetter than she does.”

“Meg.” The black guy warned. “You have to excuse her; she can be a bit tightly wound.” He turned his attention to Dean. “Your associate here saw something she wasn’t supposed to, and now she’s lying about it.”

Dean glanced to Jo. “What is he talking about?”

“Beats me.” She folded her arms over her chest. “I’ve never seen these two in my life.”

“I didn’t say you saw us.” He glared at her. “Now you can tell us what you were doing sticking your nose were it didn’t belong or things will get ugly.”

“From where I’m standin’ seems like they already have,” Dean replied, annoyed. “I think it’s time for you and your girlfriend to leave.”

Meg grinned and smoothed her hands down his chest. “Gordon ain’t my boyfriend. I’m a free agent, Dean-o. We should let these two talk and you and I can go in the other room. I’ve lost something and I need you to find it.”

Grabbing her wrist before her hand went any further, he swirled her around and shoved her out the door. “Let’s not and say we did. Your turn, Chuckles.”

Gordon squared his shoulders, stalking over and getting right in Dean’s face. “And if I don’t? What are you gonna do about it?”

“I guess I’m gonna have to throw you out then,” Dean said not backing down. This was his place and he’d be damned if he was pushed around in it.

Gordon stared at him for a few moments and then snickered. “This isn’t over, Dean.” He brushed past him, intentionally hitting him in the shoulder.

Dean held in his wince.

Meg on the other hand grabbed a handful of his ass, blew him a kiss and then followed her friend. Dean’s frown deepened and he slammed the door shut after them. “What the fuck was that?”

Jo ran a hand through her long hair and sat down, chewing on the inside of her cheek. She was obviously shaken. “I don’t know.”

“Jo, what did you see?”

“Nothing.”

“C’mon don’t lie to me. Scum like that doesn’t come a callin’ unless they think you have something they want.”

“I-all I did was take some pictures.”

It’s too early in the morning for this shit. “Lemme see them.”

Scratching her neck, she pulled her shoulder bag from under his desk and yanked out a brown envelope. “To be honest they’re not scandalous or anything so I don’t know why they were getting so bent out of shape.”

He took the envelope and removed the photos, thumbing through them carefully. She was right; they were pretty harmless. Just a svelte blonde woman talking to a deathly ill looking bearded man. They weren’t touching and didn’t seem romantically linked in any way. “Do you even know who they are?”

“I know the woman is Lilith Adler.” She shrugged her tiny shoulders. “She’s married to that dude who’s always on tv talking about medical breakthroughs. Zachariah I think his name is.”

He nodded slowly. “Well if she’s cheating on him, not like she’d want her husband to know.”

Jo agreed. “Yeah but look at them. There is no sexual tension between them at all. I only snapped them because it was nearly dark and in a part of town Mrs. Adler wouldn’t usually be caught dead in.”

Dean eyed her suspiciously. “Were you going to blackmail her or something?” At her aggravated expression, he continued. “Then why snap ‘em at all?”

“Curiosity I guess,” She admitted. “Obviously I’ve been working with you too long. If I’d known Pissy and Pervy were gonna come in and try to shake me down, I would have left well enough alone.”

I’ll bet, he thought to himself. “Look next time just mind your own business though. And maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea for you to go to your mom’s for a while.”

“What?” She jumped up with a frown. “Dean I’m not a child. I don’t need to hide behind my mother’s coattails when trouble pops up. I can take care of myself.”

“I never said you couldn’t. But I would feel a lot better if you just hanged out there for a while. C’mon, humor me.”

Growling low in her throat, she kicked him lightly in the shin but relented. “Fine. But only for a couple of days. What am I supposed to tell her when she asks why I’m suddenly interested in helping out at the bar?”

He hunched his shoulders nonchalantly. “Tell her I’m not payin’ you enough and you want some extra in tips. You’re her daughter, Jo. I doubt she’ll be that tore up to see you.”

The blonde licked her lips and folded her arms over her chest. “What are you gonna do?”

His face was blank. “What do you mean?”

Jo snorted. “Oh don’t gimme that innocent look. I’m sure it works on the people you trick into sleeping with you, but it won’t work on me. I actually know you. You’re gonna do something stupid, aren’t you? Dig deeper into this shit until you end up smelling like it.”

Dean smiled a little; she certainty could turn a phrase. “If you must know I’m gonna give the pictures to Henriksen and see what he has to say about them. That’s all.”

“We’ll see.” The phone on his desk started to ring and she turned to answer it, effectively ending their conversation.

Dean glanced back to the pictures a second time before slipping them back into their envelope. He moved out into the hallway and fished his cell phone out of his pocket, dialing Henriksen’s number and waiting.

“Henriksen.” Came the smooth voice on the other side of the line.

“Hey, it’s Dean,” Dean replied as he propped himself up against the wall. “You busy?”

“Not particularly. What’s up?” He inquired. “Remembered something from the warehouse fire the other night?”

Dean smirked as Cas’ face flashed in his mind. “Nope. Just got a question for you…”

“Uh-huh.” His friend naturally didn’t believe him. Their history to blame. “What do you need now?”

Dean tapped his heel against the floor. “What can you tell me about Lilith Adler?”

Henriksen exhaled-the minute amount of silence telling. “Why do you wanna know about Zachariah Adler’s wife?”

“No reason. I just…came into possession of some pictures of her with some guy. Wondered who the guy is, is all.”

“What does he look like?”

“Tall, skinny like a strong breeze would knock him over. Smug.”

“Beard?”

“Yeah, you know him? Who is he?”

“Names Alastair.”

Arching a brow, Dean chuckled. “Am I supposed to be impressed?”

“You honestly don’t know who Alastair is? Are you sure you’re an investigator?” When Dean didn’t reply, he continued. “Let’s just say he and his friends don’t do the crime fight any favors. We’ve never been able to prove it but Alastair has his hands in everything. He’s our very own Corleone wannabe and doing a damn good job of it.”

Dean sighed. “How come I’ve never heard of this guy?”

“Publicity in the wrong forms would be bad for business,” His friend responded. “He gets his lackies to do his dirty work for him. Man, I’ve wanted to bust his ass so many times but either he really is that smart, or he’s got a mole in the system.”

Craning his neck to peep into his office, Dean bit into his bottom lip. “Why would he be meeting with Lilith Adler?”

Henriksen shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. However-and I know it’s hard-Dean leave this alone. For all we know she was buying cheap, stolen jewelry from him. Or maybe she has a nasty coke habit. Either way it’s a little above your pay grade. These guys don’t play around.”

Suddenly he remembered Meg and the black guy from earlier; they must work for this Alastair dude. “I think two of Alastair’s crones came to see me. A brunette and a mean looking black guy-the girl was called Meg and the guy um-shit-Gordon. Yeah, Gordon. Should I be worried?”

“Not exactly. You keep your nose outta their business and they’ll lose interest eventually. Think you can do that, Dean?”

“Sure. I’m saluting you right now in case you were curious.”

Laughter followed and then Henriksen was speaking again, “Call me if you get into trouble.”

Dean smiled despite himself. “Yeah. Later.” Flipping his phone shut, he huffed and strolled back into the office. “Who was on the phone?”

Jo tucked strands of hair behind her ear. “Winston. He’s ready to pay.”

“This day just got a lot better.”

~*~

Soft classical music drifted from the small radio in the corner of the candle lit room, and Castiel hummed along absentmindedly as his black smudged fingers continue to drag the charcoal on the white sheet of paper. There were several finished sketches scattered around him all brandishing the same face, some in profile, others staring out as if aware. He’d taken great detail to get everything right; the memory of the young man-of Dean-so clear in his mind that it shocked him. People were rather faceless now unless he had direct business with them.

But not this one. Not Dean with his chiseled jaw and pouty lips and bright green eyes framed by long lashes. Perhaps it was because their meeting had been less than conventional, especially considering Castiel was dead and thereby shouldn’t be meeting anyone at all. But coming upon him tied up in a warehouse would have been weird had he been alive. He’s just thankful he decided to check inside before destroying it.

“You like him.”

The bed dipped slightly and a hand touched his shoulder. Though not really. It was just a dream-a delightful hallucination and reminder of why he was doing what he was doing. However he went along with it because it made sense to the person he was now. The thing he was now. “What makes you say that?”

Anna smiled as she peered over him. “Besides the fact that you’re drawing countless pictures of him? I know you Castiel. You’re fixated.”

He hummed in acquiescence. “He was very pretty.”

She laughed lightly. “Are you going to see him again?”

“No.” His voice was soft. “I’m not here to rescue beautiful young men. You know that.”

Shifting to the side, she touched his cheek. “True. But I don’t see the harm in talking to him. It’s just a shame you didn’t meet him before...”

He scoffed, rolling his bright blue eyes. “I was too centered on work to think about a relationship. Too driven to be the best…and look where it got me. Got us.” Pressing his lips into a hard line, he shaded in Dean’s hair. “I wish I could go back in time and change it. Refocus on things more important.”

“But you can’t. You have to do this now,” She said reaching down to pick up a drawing. “What’s his name?”

“Dean,” He whispered. “His name is Dean.”

“Did you know that Dean means ‘valley’? In Hebrew it means ‘law’.” She touched the lips of the sketch but they didn’t smear. “He looks like a kind person.” Pause. “Castiel, why Dean?”

In truth he’d asked himself the same question after returning to his apartment to sit in the dark and think about what he’d done. To think about the smell of the burning debris and the heat from Dean’s skin, felt clearly through his jacket when he’d jammed his shoulder back into place. Every time he closed his eyes he could see brilliant-if confused-green ones gazing back at him in awe and bewilderment. Before when he would close his eyes he would see Nick on the ground begging for his life, and it had filled him with a virtuous indignation that had made him want to seek out whoever was next on his list.

Keep going. Keep going. Keep going until the very last offender took their very last breath.

Those few moments with Dean while strange took away some of the rage inside of him. He could still see their faces and feel their hands, but Dean served as a nice distraction to the insanity. And not just on the outside but inside.

“He was so warm. He put me at peace,” He said after a while. “I don’t exactly understand it though. I’m not supposed to be at peace. If I were I would not be here.”

Anna gazed at him serenely. “There are no more rules, brother. Not for you and certainly not for me. If Dean gave you a minute’s respite then I say enjoy it. Miles to go before you can come home.”

Castiel’s fingers paused in their work. “How can this be right, Anna? What I’m doing-how can it be what God wants? Murder is a sin.”

She nodded. “It is, but this isn’t about murder. This is about justice. You’re not supposed to dwell on the bad in paradise and yet you did. Besides, I don’t think God was in charge when it came to your resurrection. You won’t be damned for finishing it.”

For the first time since she appeared, he looked at her. She was the same as always, long red hair and wide childlike eyes. Such a contrast to him that people often wondered how they were related at all. “Perhaps. I doubt I could stop now even if I wanted to. The relief I felt when that bastard took his last breath-there are no words to describe the exhilaration that shot through me. I was vindicated.”

“How do you feel now?” She inquired; though he had a feeling she already knew the answer.

“Unfinished,” He admitted. “He was just the beginning after all.”

“You don’t know how right you are, Castiel.” Biting her bottom lip, she kissed his cheek and stood. “Look deeper. Find your briefcase.”

And just like that she was gone and he was alone again, trapped in a place where happy memories now mingled with the bad. He exhaled and wet his lips, his lashes fluttering as the crow’s vision blended with his own to show off a dimly lit nightclub without a name, just a symbol above the door. Loud music filled his ears, drowning out the soft piano with thick, molasses beats that dropped and throbbed uncontrollably. He could make out bodies grinding and gyrating with one another, clad in leather, lace or not much at all.

A small brunette in tight jeans and a leather halter top was puffing on a cigarette, her hand stroking the crotch of a man in a gimp mask before putting the cigarette out on his already scarred forearm. She grinned at his jerk of pain, all red lips and hooded eyes.

Soundlessly the drawing slipped from Castiel’s fingers and he stood, retrieving his jacket from the floor before hurrying out of the door. Once on the street, the crow returned to him to guide him to his destination, landing on the roof as he slipped inside. It was smoky and reeked of sex, yet still managed to have a man with pink spikes tending bar. People were fucking on stained couches; snorting cocaine up their noses and whipping willing participants near a back wall.

Even with his face painted Castiel somehow fit in. No one was really paying him any attention and those who did obviously found the makeup intriguing. They brushed his back as he walked past, a few whispering filthy things into his ear about wanting to suck him dry. He ignored them and made his way through the dancing crowd over to a steel staircase. His shoes clanked as he ascended to the second level, the flashing overhead light hitting him in the face before seeking out someone else. Anyone else. And then he saw her with her plaything.

When Meg Masters had pushed her way into his home that fateful night, the first thing she’d done was look around and comment on his choice of décor. While Gordon beat him up and Nick forced Anna onto her back on the carpet, she’d touched his things and bounced around like a child in a candy store. Once he was strung up and Anna was crying, she had skipped over to him and slid her hand down his pants. Squeezed, stroked, massaged his testicles and pushed her fingers between the cheeks of his buttocks. All while laughing and telling Nick to “ride her harder”.

She’d found his pleas to be almost endearing; had begged her father to cut him down so she could screw him. In retrospect Castiel was happy that Azazel had not listened to her. The thought of her touching him in that way churned his stomach.

He wanted nothing more than to stalk up to her and break her neck, but that was too good for her. No she needed to suffer like he had suffered. She likes pain. Give it to her.

Walking over to just off to the side where she was, he lit up a cigarette and released a plumb of smoke into the air. Meg caught the motion in her peripheral and turned surprise evident on her face. “Well look at you. Painted up all pretty.”

Castiel took another drag, blowing the smoke right in her face. “You think so?” He noted the shiver she gave at the sound of his voice. “Why not come play with me then? I know you want to.” Without waiting for a reply, he walked off up another set of stairs to a balcony that overlooked the dance floor.

Meg followed of course and paced before him practically vibrating. “So…why are you all dressed up? Not that I don’t like a little kink. In fact I love it but I’m just curious.”

“I’m someone else tonight,” He quipped. “Someone far away from the person I used to be.”

“Who did you used to be?” She took a step closer.

“Weak. Motivated by the desire to be renowned above all else.” Pausing, he dropped his cigarette to the floor and stomped it out.

She hummed and swayed into his space, pressing against him intimately, tilting her head back to grin up at him. “God you have pretty eyes. Makes me wanna cut them out of your head and put them in my pocket.” She scraped her nails down his chest, giving his belt buckle a yank. “Want you to bend me over this railing and fuck me hard. Think you can do that?”

Castiel grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled roughly, listening to her hum of pleasure. “I could, but it’s not what I have in mind for you, Meg. Do you know who you remind me of? Juliette from Histoire de Juliette ou les Prospérités du vice. It’s a novel by the Marquis de Sade about a young girl who chooses to give into her primal urges without a care for who she might hurt in the process.”

Meg giggled, her tongue flicking across his chin. “Sounds like my kinda girl. I’m all for fucking up someone else for kicks.”

His eye twitched and his hand tightened to the point of pain. “I know. I was one of your kicks.”

“No baby. I would have remembered having you before.”

“Six months ago in an apartment. You told me I tasted like angel cake.”

Meg frowned and tried to back away but he wouldn’t let her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He chuckled. “Of course you do. I have a feeling you don’t forget those you debase because that makes it much more fun. Surely you remember me, Meg? You said horrible degrading things to me. You watched as your father wrapped a noose around my neck and your friend Gordon choked me to death.”

Recognition bloomed in her eyes as she began to struggle, pushing against his chest with her small hands. “You’re wrong. We-they killed you. I watched you die. You can’t be him.”

She is halfway right, he thought to himself. “No. I’m the thing you created when you murdered me. When you laughed, and told your friend to slap my sister while she begged for mercy. While he made shallow cuts because you said they hurt worse. While we both begged you to stop. I died with your hands on me-around me. Touching me when you had no right.”

“Ah!” She winced as his blunt nails dug into her scalp. “How the fuck are you here if you died? You’re lying! He-he had a twin or something!”

Castiel released her hair long enough to wrap both hands around her neck. He squeezed hard, watching as her face started to turn red from lack of air. “There is no afterlife, so your conduct does not matter Sade once wrote. But he was wrong. There is a Heaven and there is most certainty a Hell, and I think it’s waiting for you.”

“Pl-pl-please…” She gasped, coughing, yanking at his wrists. “N-no…”

“You should join your friends now.” Kissing her forehead, he gave her a hard shove and she tumbled over the railing with a terrified shriek, falling through a thin black tarp to the cement below. Her head bounced off a protruding steel pipe and people screamed as her blood leaked out of the jagged gash in her porcelain skin.

A few onlookers gathered around her twitching body; one brave soul checked for a pulse and related she had none. As they looked up to see what had happened, they noticed the bird shaped hole in the canvas-wings spread wide.

Castiel stood in the shadows surveying the screen with a sense of flowing fulfillment before ducking out a back door. Sirens wailed and he hurried away from the scene, taking a few back alleys until he was blocks away. He stalked over to a phone booth and yanked it open, flipped through the thick phone book until he found what he was looking for and then continued on his way.

~*~

Dean’s apartment had not been hard to find since his home phone number was in the white pages and Castiel discovered he had no qualms about climbing through his open window. He found the gesture to be careless however; it’s something he would scold the man for if they were on those types of terms. Yet he’d been behind a locked door and still met an unfortunate fate. Dean looked like someone who could take care of himself though out running a bullet was probably a feat even he couldn’t perform.

The interior was lived in and moderately spacious; the living room what you would expect from a bachelor albeit cleaner. Dean was stretched out on his sofa, looking serene as his eyes moved restlessly behind their eyelids. Castiel smiled and moved over to the mantle where several picture frames sat. An older couple embraced smiling in one while a tall young man pointed happily to some type of degree in the other. There was a blonde girl scowling and a black man drinking a beer with a wide grin while Dean plucked a burnt piece of food off a grill.

So many happy faces. So many good memories. So many loved ones.

Purring sounded and he glanced down to see a fat black cat rubbing itself around his legs. He smirked and scratched behind its’ ears, amused because Dean did not come off as a cat person. Lazily he let himself imagine what it would have been like to visit Dean if things were normal. Helping him make dinner in his kitchen and then curling up to watch tv while the cat demanded attention. When he’d been alive Castiel assumed he had all the time in the world to find someone to share his life with.

It hurt how wrong he was. Hurt even more that he found Dean to be intriguing, knowing that alive he would have been even more infatuated with the young man.

He didn’t exactly have a type besides kindhearted and intelligent, but it was quite evident that Dean possessed these qualities and more. Not to mention he was gorgeous which never hurt when it came to attraction.

Suddenly his thoughts were cut short as a hand grabbed his wrist and jerked, attempting to pin his right arm behind his back. He reacted on instinct, pushing back to have more room before flipping his assailant to the floor with a loud thud. Surprised grassy green eyes stared up at him and he snorted in amusement.

“Do you always attack visitors?”

Dean’s shock quickly turned to annoyance. “Only the ones who break into my house at odd hours of the night. Damn it Cas, what the hell are you doing here?”

“I…” Moving back, he helped Dean stand. “I wanted to see you.”

“So you break in? Ever heard of calling?” He was still frowning. “How did you know where I lived anyway?”

“Your window was open. And you’re not the only one who can find things out.” Castiel wet his lips slowly. “If I have upset you I will leave. I just-I thought seeing you would help calm my racing mind…”

Sighing, he turned on a lamp and shook his head. “No it’s fine I guess. Weird as hell and kinda stalkerish but…you don’t really strike me as the normal type anyway. Man, why am I not more concerned by the fact that you broke into my apartment? Anyone else would be in a world of hurt by now.”

Castiel smiled a little. “Because it’s quirky and cute?”

“Heh yeah until you kill me and bury me in your backyard.” Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m uh-glad you’re okay though. I mean after the explosion I figured you’d ran back to crazy clown country or something.”

“No. I have business in the city,” He replied offhandedly. “And I’m not a clown.” Tilting his head to the side, much like an inquisitive puppy, he moved over to the coffee table and picked up the photos resting there. “Working on another case?”

Dean itched at his bicep, dragging his fingers over the now throbbing bruises. “Not really. My friend took these because apparently I’m a bad influence and she couldn’t help herself. I don’t-it doesn’t seem to be anything fishy going on though. Why? Do you know them?”

“I know her,” He answered vaguely. “And I know of Alastair.”

Leaning to get a good look at his expression, Dean motioned to the photographs. “Any idea why they would be meeting up?”

Castiel had a few ideas but none that he felt should be shared. They would only lead to trouble. “No. Drugs maybe?”

Dean pulled a face. “That’s a theory. I don’t care it’s just that, I think Alastair sent two of his assholes after my friend to put the fear of God in her or whatever. I don’t want them coming after her.” He sat down on the couch and gestured for Castiel to join him. “They looked like they were itching for trouble. Especially the chick; Meg something. She was way too handsy.”

Her name caused Castiel’s lips to twitch in schadenfreude. “I wouldn’t worry about her…”

Dean stared at him but let the comment go. “Can I ask you something?”

A nod. “Of course.”

“Why the painted face?”

“I’m hiding from someone.”

“Who?”

“Myself.”

“You’re kinda nutty, aren’t you?” He inquired, though he was smiling. “Or you’re trying to be some kinda vigilante. Like Batman.”

Castiel glanced down to his hands; he could still feel Meg trying to swallow as he squeezed tighter and tighter. He didn’t know much about comic book characters and he wondered if Batman was the type to seek revenge in the manner that he was currently carrying out. Would he also consider himself justified? Would he also take pleasure in watching the light drain from their eyes? “I think I am only doing what is necessary for the time being.”

The other man hummed in response. “Ya know there is this little voice in my head telling me that I should be more on guard around you. I mean what sane man dresses like he works at a bank and wears makeup? But I don’t know. For some reason that doesn’t make a lick of sense, I get the feeling you’re not gonna smother me to death with your tie. You could have left me in that warehouse to die but you didn’t.”

“I do not wish you harm, Dean.” He exhaled deeply, tiredly. “You’re the first person I’ve met in a long time that makes me think about something other than…my current responsibilities. It’s unconventional but I’ve learned that some things cannot be categorized.”

Dean bumped his shoulder lightly. “And my cat didn’t immediately scratch your eyes out so I think that’s a sign.”

“Ah, yes. That is so important.” Castiel smirked, and then turned his body towards Dean. He plastered his long fingers to his arm and slid them up in a soft caress, trailing underneath the short sleeve of his t-shirt to curve around the top of his shoulder. “Are you still in pain?”

Dean swallowed noticeably. “A little but nothing I can’t handle. Would be worse if it weren’t for you.”

His skin is so warm and he smells like ink and fresh soap. “That is debatable considering I was the one who caused the explosion that dislocated your shoulder in the first place. It was only right that I be the one to fix it.”

“Thanks again for that.” Dean’s eyes were on his lips. “So, you’re not a serial killer?”

Laughing softly, Castiel shook his head. “No. I-I’m a reporter. Why?”

“Okay so this might sound stupid. No it is stupid but I’ve often went that route so why stop now? I mean you’re really hot so…” He flashed a charming grin. “Do you-would you wanna get some coffee sometime? Like in daylight in a booth in a place that hopefully serves pie?”

Castiel didn’t know why the question came as a shock to him, but it did. He dropped his hand from Dean’s shoulder and frowned, a million thoughts running through his mind at once. Yes he wanted to get coffee with Dean but he wasn’t sure he was allowed. He wasn’t sure any of this was allowed besides his prior commitment. Even though he could hear Anna’s voice in the back of his head telling him to say yes he had to think about the big picture. About what would happen when his quest was complete…

Where would that leave him and Dean then? And how would he explain any of this before he left?

Taking his silence as rejection, Dean immediately began to backtrack. “Hey it-it was just an idea. Never mind, don’t worry about it.”

“No, Dean. No. I’d love to get a cup of coffee with you.” He reached out and took his hand, liking the slightly roughened feel against his much smoother skin. “I just-I have certain obligations that I must attend to first. But coffee sounds like fun.”

Confused, Dean shrugged it off and snorted. “Cool. But um, you’ll lose the whore paint first though, right?”

“Yes Dean,” Castiel replied with a hint of amusement. “By then I won’t need it anymore.”

Part Four