Author's note: Since this story takes place between episode 5.3 and 5.4 and it has been a while since those episodes aired; here's a short summary of what happens in episode 5.3 Free to be you and me that's important to remember for this story. You can, of course, skip the summary.

Sam and Dean have decided that hunting together is not working, so they are apart. Castiel asks Dean to help him find the archangel who killed Castiel, Raphael. Castiel believes Raphael might know where God is, but warns Dean that Castiel might not survive the confrontation. To Dean's question of how he plans to spend what is possibly his last day on earth, Castiel answers, 'I just thought I'd sit here quietly.' Dean is not having that, so he asks whether Castiel maybe wants booze or women. At that last word Castiel glances at Dean, but looks away quickly. Dean thinks the hesitating glance means Castiel has never had sex, which is true, so naturally Dean takes him to a brothel. Castiel cannot die a virgin on Dean's watch. It is hilarious how uncomfortable and afraid Castiel looks in this 'den of iniquity.' Again naturally, Castiel screws up and he doesn't have sex. In the end they find Raphael, who thinks God is dead, but Castiel remains convinced that God is out there. Dean urges Castiel to keep believing and Castiel does his vanishing thing.

(***)

Chapter 1: The Outsiders

Back in another motel room, which he could only afford because Cas was such a freak and had not succeeded at having sex with a hooker, Dean looked out of the window. In a way he was grateful for not having to spend another night at an abandoned house, because that shit was depressing. On the other hand, he thought, as he turned away from the window and surveyed the room, this wasn't much better. Damp spots were visible on the ceiling and on all but one of the four walls. He could swear he heard vermin scurrying in the walls. Well, at least the sheets looked clean. Then again, the few people who came to a motel like this knew better than to engage in any activity that would stain the sheets.

The rush of rapidly flapping wings spooked him and he looked towards the sound. For a scary moment, he thought it might be Raphael, who had come to torture the whereabouts of Cas out of him, but luckily it wasn't. It was just Cas. Good; he was so tired of being tortured all the time.

'One of these days you're going to kill me. You'll pop up like that and I'll have a heart attack,' he scolded Cas, but the angel seemed unaffected by the admonition. Cas dragged the only chair in the room closer and sat down with a curious head tilt.

'Have you ever died of a heart attack before?' he asked. Dean briefly considered seriously answering the question. One time he was electrocuted and his heart was damaged, but a preacher saved him with an evil switcheroo. Then there was the time with the time loop that Sam told him about where he apparently died like a hundred times, so maybe one of those deaths was a heart attack. And when he died and went to hell... Eventually, he just commented on the absurdity of the question.

'It is a testament to how weird our lives are that you can say that with a straight face,' he said and Cas wondered aloud what his face should look like.

'Never mind,' Dean answered. The guy only had one facial expression anyway: slightly something. Over the past year Dean had witnessed slightly perturbed, slightly puzzled, slightly angry and slightly curious. Perhaps one day he would have the dubious pleasure of seeing him slightly amused, but he didn't count on it. While Cas might be happy to stare into space the entire night, Dean was anxious for something. The events of the day and night before had been exhilarating and fun, so he was exhausted. Yet, he couldn't bear the thought of going to sleep. That might be because it had been a long time since he had slept alone. He usually shared a room with Sam or the bed with some woman.

On top of that, he knew his exhaustion was not merely physical. Mentally, he was worn out too. He knew that, however long or short his life might be, fighting was his destiny. Sammy would probably say something fruity, like that it was his raison d'être. Killing demons and saving people; that was his thing. Dean was good at it and he liked it, but if he was honest he had to admit that the thought of it continuing into eternity made him feel weary too. There were all these little battles and some you lost and some you won and overall it was hard to determine what they meant in the grand scheme of things. What bothered him most, however, was that it didn't stop. It probably never would either. It would just go on, forever.

That was why he was a little jealous of Sam sometimes. At least Sam had experienced a different life before full-time demon hunting. University would not have been Dean's thing at all, he was well aware of that. The envy was reserved for the things Dean associated with the life style. Fraternities, endless parties and hangovers, meeting hot and smart chicks, making friends for life. That's what people did at university: they expanded their social circle. Everyone Dean met was a hunter, a demon, or a victim. Or an angel, he amended as he looked at Cas, who was staring at a damp spot shaped like a hat. The only ties he had were to people who knew about evil.

It was strange that earlier that day he had given Cas an inspiring pep talk about keeping the faith when Dean himself lacked faith. He sighed and decided it wasn't so bad after all. It had just been a long day. A hard day's night, he grinned. As he lay down on the bed he decided he was just tired.

'Sometimes I long to be someone who when a seal is mentioned doesn't think of demons breaking them, but who thinks of a sea animal or the musician,' Dean said and Cas, startled, looked at him. For this occasion he had donned his slightly puzzled expression.

'He is the one who is married to Heidi Klum, right?' Cas inquired. Dean craned his neck to stare at him. The angel seemed to understand that he had said something strange and needed to explain himself.

'Sam told me once, when we saw her on television. She was a judge of people designing clothes?' Cas offered in an unsure voice and paused before continuing, 'You weren't there.'

Dean decided it was best not to comment on that statement, though it amused him to no end. Cas and Sam watching an episode of Project Runway: it was so funny it was almost not funny anymore. His stomach muscles cramped as he tried not to laugh. In his next conversation with Sam he would be sure to mention this gem.

'Is that funny?'

Sometimes when Dean looked at Cas he saw something inexplicable. The body Cas had chosen to occupy was not special. His face was handsome, but not overly so. His physique was fine. Though, because Cas was perpetually sombre looking due to some apocalypse or other, his shoulders were slightly hunched at times. All in all, if you needed to cast an angel and Cas walked in, he could nail the audition and he still would probably not get called back. Yet, when you spent time with him something else shone through. It was not because you knew him better, because there was a lot to know and he told very little. Cas was like one of those paintings which seemed to depict one thing, but when you looked at them for a long time or in a different light with a certain head tilt another picture emerged. Dean thought it was like an ugly duckling becoming a swan. The man was a fucking fairy tale.

Something was always shimmering underneath the surface and that was special. Not because he was an angel, because the angel part vaguely irritated Dean. The inability to understand the simplest concepts, the way he went on and on about God, his zapping thing; Dean could do without those. Oh yes, he would gladly and easily do without those features of his friend. The thing that was special about Cas was also the thing that allowed them to be friends. It was hard to describe or explain. As much as Cas plunged Dean into danger on a regular basis he had also saved him numerous times.

Special was perhaps the weariness that Dean recognised in him. Sam had it and Dean felt it too. It was the human qualities that Cas wasn't supposed to possess that appealed to him. Sometimes it made Dean wonder whether Cas might be more human than he let on or than Cas himself realised. Now was not a good time to theorise about that, however. Dean resolved to at least try to sleep. Though it was kind of creepy to think that Cas would sit there staring straight ahead - contemplating existence or whatever it was he did - while Dean slept; it was also comforting, in a weird way, to know that he was right there. To know that he was not alone.