Greetings My Lovelies!

I've been wanting to do a Supernatural AU for awhile and this idea just came to me and I had to write it. Hopefully you find it intriguing as well. I've got no clue how long this will be. I guess we'll find out together ;)

Always love reviews!

Enjoy :D

~At The Fair~

'Cotton Candy was king

On the midway that spring

When I saw you in the ring on the lawn'

~Dear John, Amiee Mann

Dean hates this place. He hates everything about it. The air smells like cotton candy, straw, and animals. That last one's probably because the cage is only a few yards from the barn where they keep the 4H pigs. Who the hell comes to the fair to see pigs anyway? Honestly, Dean doesn't see why anyone would come to a State Fair in the first place.

The games are rigged, the rides are lousy, and everyone is about as reliable as his father. Dean glares around the currently deserted tent which houses the cage used for the matches. He's 21 years old he should be anywhere other than this shithole. But they need money and since killing ghosts and beheading vampires doesn't pay very well, here he is.

The Winchester family line has a long and proud heritage of conning people out of their hard earned cash. A heritage which is being put to use by Dean's father who is currently running a booth selling nonexistent product for a nonexistent business. Dean always says John could sell light switches to the Amish and a fair is easy pickings.

"Are you going to get knocked out for kicks again?" asks a voice behind him.

Dean turns to face his younger brother standing in the entrance. The gigantic 17 year old looks massively out of place in a gray-green jumpsuit uniform. It's dirty and faded with a patch displaying his name haphazardly sewn on the breast pocket. Sam's long brown hair sticks out around his ears and sweat beads on his forehead. It's an odd combination with the disapproving stare he's giving Dean. Dean's used to Sam's patented bitchfaces. The kid's been turning them on him since he was five. The current expression is all to do with Dean's new 'profession'.

"I haven't been knocked out once." Dean complains. He drops his gym bag and sets down on one of the many wooden benches lining the tent. Pulling out a roll of gauze he starts wrapping his knuckles. "I've won the last five nights in a row. The pays not bad and why would we waste that kind of betting opportunity. All you have to do is turn your big puppy dog eyes on them and you can hustle any of these rubes."

Sam's frown deepens at the description. He takes a seat next to Dean with a sigh. Dean knows his brother hates this even more than he does. Sam is the black sheep of the family - or would that be white sheep? He's never been good with metaphors. Either way Sam's always was the odd one out among the three of them.

He's got morals and principles, and stuff. He doesn't like scamming people and though he won't admit it, Dean's pretty fucking proud of that. John not so much. That wasn't always the case though. There was a time when Sam was even more messed up than Dean, and it was all because of a girl.

"Are you still having headaches?" Sam asks. He knows he can't talk Dean out of doing what he wants, but he's still going to try. Dean expects it at this point.

He runs his fingers through his short hair. It's true Dean's been getting headaches lately, but that's not shocking when you drink more than you sleep. Add in repeated blows to the skull and it's a wonder Dean doesn't have a constant migraine. Sam's being all concerned though. Isn't that his job? He's the older brother.

"Dude, I'm fine." Dean mutters, ignoring how it feels suspiciously like a lie, because it's not. He is fine. "Don't you have work you're supposed to be doing or maybe talk to that girl you've been stalking?"

Sam goes red and his mouth falls open. Dean grins enjoying turning the tables on his younger brother.

"Hot blonde chick, way out of your league. You thought I didn't notice. You followed her and her friends around all day pretending to clean up trash." He smirks knowing he's got him.

"I - I- Just shut up."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

Dean bumps Sam's shoulder with his own as they fall back into the easy banter they've had since childhood. Moved from place to place, cheap motel to cheap motel, ever since their mom died they've never had any real friends outside of each other.

John was pretty much out of the picture unless it was for training. Dean knew how to fire a shot gun before he could make Mac-and-cheese. He knows how to survive in the middle of nowhere, he knows four different styles of fighting, and he knows how to kill the things most people don't believe in. And Sammy is no different.

"Winchester!" a burly man with an outrageously large mustache sticks his head into the tent. "You've got 15 minutes, get your ass moving."

"Yes, Sir." Dean salutes sarcastically as his temporary boss disappears again.

Sam and Dean get up and Dean collects his gym bag. He rolls his shoulders and stretches his arms trying to keep his muscles limber. Cage fighting is fun, but going all out with no rules can fucking hurt. They've been here less than a week and his bruises have bruises.

"Good luck." Sam says before Dean goes back to wait in the holding area.

Dean winks, "Don't need it, Sammy."

His brother rolls his eyes, "Whatever just try not to get your teeth knocked out."

The fair is noisy and full of people rushing back and forth. Parents with children carrying stuffed animals or balloons. Adolescents holding hands, laughing and kissing. And livestock, lots of livestock. Castiel watches the general fervor of humanity impassively. It's his job to observe and understand. Heaven said they need closer interaction to fully comprehend humanity. That's why Castiel and nearly a hundred other members of his garrison were sent to Earth.

Castiel's never left Heaven before this, most angels haven't. His parents haven't even been to many of the other Heavens. They were so proud when he was selected for the mission, saying it was a great honor. Secretly, Castiel isn't sure about that. Of course, he can't ever say anything out loud. Angels do not question the orders of Heaven. He may be young but he isn't stupid.

The shrieking of the carnival rides is distracting. Castiel watches from a distance feeling out of place. It seems tan trench coats and suits are not what human teenagers wear, but it's all he has. In retrospect Castiel realizes Gabriel was probably lying to him when he explained human clothing. Gabriel likes to mess with people. It's unusual for an angel, but Gabriel is pretty unusual.

Castiel follows the flow of the crowd, mentally taking notes on their actions. He can see people subconsciously moving around him, avoiding getting too close. Humans may not realize it but they can sense he isn't one of them. Castiel is surprised by how much it bothers him. Angels have no need for those kinds of human emotions.

A large tent with a lit sign attracts a good portion of the crowd. A fight is about to begin calls the man next to the entrance. A fight? Castiel knows humans like to fight; outside of war it seems unnecessary though. He decides it will be a good thing to take note of. Slipping inside, after a group of men who've already had too much to drink, Castiel finds a seat.

Four levels of raised wooden benches surround a large cage on a raised platform in the center of the room. Castiel quickly sees how the mechanics of this game works. It's barbaric. Around him are nothing but excited, eager faces. Will he ever be able to understand them?

The drunken men he followed in are talking to a tall boy in a fair workers uniform. They laugh at him and the largest man pulls out a wad of cash. The boy nods and writes something down. The men smirk when the boy leaves. The boy is smirking too. Castiel wants to know what they're doing, but he's learned quickly humans don't ask each other direct questions like that.

"Ladies and gentlemen," says an overhead speaker crackling to life. The audience quiets down to listen. "Tonight we have for you two amazing sportsmen in an all-out battle for the ages! Gordon Walker and Dean Winchester."

Everyone cheers as two men walk into the tent and up onto the platform holding the cage. Castiel is surprised to see one of the men looks no older than himself. His short reddish-brown hair sticks up everywhere and Castiel can make out a pattern of freckles that extends all the way down to his shoulders. Something unnamable curls in his belly as he watches the shirtless young man sizing up his opponent.

When the first punch is thrown Castiel winces. The boy takes repeated hits to the abdomen. He's no match for the older, dark-skinned man. This is ridiculous. Castiel glances around him. Why are they allowing this? The crowd cheers and cat-calls with no concern for the man being beaten in front of them.

Castiel clenches his fists in his lap, fingers tightening in his overcoat. The younger man ducks and jabs getting pinned against the metal grating. He tells himself he can't interfere. He had no reason to want to. Suddenly the boy laughs in his competitor's face. Castiel gasps when he darts forward. The young man moves like lightening with a series of repeated body blows.

The game changes quickly. Castiel fights a small smile. The boy is playing with the older man, letting him wear himself out. People shout and boo in shock. Especially the group of drunks Castiel was watching earlier. Clearly no one was expecting this.

Castiel is a soldier and he knows training when he sees it. He leans forward staring with an intensity he can't explain. The match ends when the younger man lands a ringing blow to his opponent's jaw. The sound of the body hitting the mat silences the room. After a stunned moment the room breaks into applause. Castiel can't help joining in. His superiors would reprimand him, but he reasons he's supposed to blend in so clapping is fine.

"Our winner, Dean Winchester!" cries the loudspeaker.

So he's Dean, then the one who's glaring at Dean from the mat must be Gordon. Castiel doesn't like that, it makes him nervous. Dean raises a hand to crowd looking surprisingly bashful at the attention. He helps Gordon up and shakes his hand, before exiting the cage. Castiel follows him with his eyes. Just before he leaves the tent Dean stumbles. Castiel is up and outside before the thought even registers.

Dean will come out on the back side of the tent. He moves faster than he should while masquerading as a human. The sun set during the fight. An orange glow from string lights and the carnival rides bleeds out the stars. Castiel rounds the corner and in the unnatural half-light he can see a body on the ground.

His heart stops. It's Dean. His face is pale and sweat drenched hair sticks to his forehead. Castiel feels something like panic for the first time in his life. He isn't allowed to interfere. He can heal almost anything with a single touch. What if something's wrong and he could do something?

Castiel falls to his knees beside Dean. What is he supposed to do? Castiel's fingers hesitate before touching the other man. Dean isn't wearing much of anything. Why should that matter, he has to check for injuries. Dean won't know so that can't really count as interfering. Castiel leans forward to places his fingertips on Dean's temple when the man's eyes flutter open.

Castiel freezes. Their noses are only inches apart. Dean's confused eyes are a startling shade of green. There are even more freckles on his face up close.

"Hey," Dean smiles bemusedly then blinks a few times seeming to remember where he is. "Umm… who are you?"

"Castiel. My name is Castiel."