Dean shouldn't be here. He felt completely out of place in this millions of dollar stable with its million dollar horses. Even his best pair of jeans had holes in them and his boots were scuffed and unpolished. Most of his life had been spent with horses, but it was always on ranches. This…this was a completely different ball-game. English horses were treated better than royalty and lived far more lavish lives than he and Sammy. To think that he – a simple ranch hand – could take care of these horses was almost laughable. But the advertised pay was good…real good. He had to start making more cash for Sam.

The dark stained wood of the stalls was polished and dust free, each horse having their name engraved on a plaque on their stall door. Every halter was leather and perfectly hung on a golden hook. Water buckets didn't have even a strand of hay floating in them and all the shavings were fresh. Shit. What the fuck was he doing here? They didn't even use shavings at the barns he had been in.

"Can I help you, son?"

Dean jumped at the rough voice that came from an older man with hard lines and a graying beard. He was leaning against a pitchfork in a stall giving him a weary look. "Oh, uh, I'm looking for Chuck Shurley. I have an appointment with him."

The man raised a questioning eyebrow, "You sure don't look like you've got much experience in this kind of work."

Dean frowned and crossed his arms defensively, "I've worked with horses all my life."

The man gave an amused huff, "What, barrel racers and cattle horses? Take it from someone who has worked both worlds, son, this ain't no place for a cowboy."

"Man, you know nothing about me," Dean scoffed. "I'm a quick learner and I'm good with all horses."

"It ain't the horses you should be worried about," he pointed out as he continued to muck the stall he was working on. "There's a reason Castiel hasn't been able to keep a groom for more than a month. He's stubborn as all hell and ain't very forgiving when mistakes are made."

Great. The rider was a complete dick. "Look, I'm just trying to make ends meet here, alright? I can handle a dick. Can you just tell me where Chuck is?"

"Last I saw he was tacking a horse in the west end. Go down to the crossroad and turn right. Name's Bobby Singer…if you last long enough to need to know," he said.

Dean nodded, "Dean Winchester. Thanks." With his hands in his pockets he followed Bobby's direction and found a single horse cross-tied in the center aisle with a middle-aged man throwing a saddle over its back. "Chuck Shurley?"

The man jumped at the voice and almost dropped the saddle. "Y-yes?"

Dean's brow furrowed together. Chuck was small with a trimmed beard and exhausted eyes that seemed to jump at every sound. "I'm Dean Winchester."

"Oh!" He exclaimed before his face fell, "Oh…um. Ok," he thrust a leather girth into Dean's hands, "Go ahead."

Ok…Dean started on the left side and attached the girth to the billets on the bottom hole before switching sides and reaching under the horse. Feeding it through the loop of the breastplate he tugged gently to pull the other end through the billets and kept it loose fitting. English girths were not western cinches, but they were pretty straight forward.

Chuck crossed his arms and shifted uncomfortably, "The breastplate isn't done."

"You just handed me the girth, dude," Dean mumbled before turning back to the horse. Dean grabbed the dangling portion of the breastplate and undid the buckle. It took him a few seconds to figure out where to attach it, but he made quick work of it on both sides.

"Ok, so you aren't completely hopeless," Chuck breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh gee, thanks," Dean spat.

Chuck exhaled noisily as he reached for the bridle and began unhooking the horse. "Sorry, but when you said you didn't have any English experience on the phone it made me nervous. If you work well with the horses I don't mind teaching you, but it has to be on the down low. Castiel would be furious with me if I hired on someone who didn't know a kimberwick from a pelham."

"Uh," Dean was frowning through confusion, "I don't."

"Exactly!" Chuck exclaimed, "But I'm desperate! I've stopped getting calls completely because no one wants to work with him. Word gets out fast in the equestrian world."

Dean watched as Chuck finished buckling all the different parts of the bridle. "So what's this dude's deal?"

Chuck shrugged as he lifted the reins over the horse's head and looped them gently into the palm of his hand. "Ever since his brother Michael threatened to shut the farm down if we didn't start bringing in money Castiel has been insufferable. Everything suddenly went to fun and the well-being of the horses to winning and money."

"So his brother holds all the cards to this place?"

"Yeah, and he's a huge asshole. Castiel wasn't always like this, but the stress has just pushed him over the edge. The horses are really picking up on it and they are starting to perform worse. Take this guy here; Uriel," he gave the large black horse a pat on his neck, "He has always been a powerhouse in dressage, but lately all he wants to do is pull on the bit and buck during lead changes. Don't even get me started on Gabriel. There's a reason his nickname is 'Loki' around here. Last cross-country schooling he ducked out last second on every fence leaving Castiel looking at him from the ground."

Dean felt a little bad for Castiel after listening to Chuck's story. It sounded a lot like where he was coming from. Dean's father, John, had owned Winchester Ranch and they had bred and trained cutting horses for as long as he could remember. Ever since there was the barn fire that killed his mother and most of their horses, his father had never been the same. He had turned to heavy drinking and left the training to Sam and Dean. It didn't take long until they had to sell the farm and John committed suicide from the depression leaving Dean with the care of his younger brother.

"Look," Chuck sighed, "I'm more than happy to give you a chance, but ultimately it's up to Castiel whether or not you get hired. You should go buy a nice pair of kahakis and a polo and come back tomorrow, he -,"

"Chuck, Gabriel threw his back right shoe, I need you to -," the man who had just rounded the corner with a smaller chestnut in tow came to a halt at the sight of Dean. "Who is this?"

"Um," Chuck whimpered, "This is a potential new groom for you."

The man's eyes narrowed in a harsh look before answering curtly, "No." Turning his attention back to Chuck he continued, "I need you to call Rufus and have him come out here immediately to fix it and while-,"

"No?" Dean interjected in a low growl. "Are you serious?"

The man Dean assumed must be Castiel stared at him with cold and brilliant blue eyes. "If you think for a moment you can walk into my stable looking as such, you are sadly mistaken. I am not here to hire charity cases."

Dean's jaw clenched tightly and his fists balled, "Yeah, well, maybe if you worried less about looks and more about skill you wouldn't spend so much time on the ground."

Chuck gasped as Castiel's head eyes snapped to Dean's with his jaw set firmly. With a slight tilt of his head Castiel's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Chuck, have him fetch Lucifer for me. iIf/i you can catch him, saddle him and prepare him for jumping work. By some chance you manage to complete this task, I'll hire you." Castiel traded horses with Chuck and walked away without another word.

"iLucifer/i?" Dean asked in a condescending tone of disbelief, "You have a horse named Lucifer?"

"Oh man," Chuck whined, "Lucifer is the worst. If you can get him in the arena he's a star, but he has about the worst ground manners of any horse I've ever worked with. Catching him can take hours."

"Then why turn him out?" Dean asked as he began helping Chuck un-tack Gabriel.

"Because if you don't he starts rearing in the stalls and beating down the door. He's insufferable," Chuck sighed and shook his head as he went in to the tack room and placed everything to the side to clean before putting it away for the day. "Come on, I'll take you to him and then you are on your own." Ensuring that Gabriel was hooked to the cross-ties he grabbed Lucifer's halter and motioned for Dean to follow.

Lucifer was a tall, gray Irish Sport Horse who was just beaming with pride out in the paddock. Chuck thrust the halter into Dean's hands and walked away. With a heavy sigh Dean opened the gate and slid the bolt back in to place behind him. With caution he began approaching the gelding who was peacefully grazing a few feet in front of him. Right as Dean was about to reach out with his fingers to touch him he bolted. With several bucks and snorts Lucifer galloped around, tail held high in agitation.

Dean felt the heat inside him rise to a boil. Oh, yes. Lucifer was one of those. He'd had his share of these back on the ranch. "Alright, Satan, we can play this game." Dean sat back and let Lucifer have his run before slowly walking him into a corner. Lucifer halted in the far end and raised his head with a loud snort. Dean stayed still, keeping eye contact and asserting his dominance. Sure enough when Dean got within a certain distance Lucifer made to bolt again, but Dean was ready and stepped right into the line of the gelding causing him to stop and pivot on his hind end to switch direction. Once again Dean was quick and stepped in front of him.

This continued for several more passes before Lucifer backed up, gave several loud snorts, and lowered his head. Dean took his opening and tossed the lead rope over the gelding's neck and secured the halter. Lucifer gave a strong paw at the ground and Dean yanked at his lead rope, "Hey! None of that bullshit." Lucifer shook his head but did not paw again. Dean gave him a pat on the nose and began leading the horse out of the paddock.

When Dean passed by the wash stall Chuck dropped the hose causing it to go haywire and spooking Gabriel. Lucifer, out of spite, began rearing back in Dean's hand. Dean cursed as he reigned Lucifer in, "Dammit, Chuck!"

Chuck fumbled to turn off the water and chanted, "Sorry, sorry, sorry! Oh my god! I'm sorry! I just – holy crap how did you catch him so fast?"

Dean mumbled something under his breath as he hooked Lucifer to the cross-ties. "It's just about showing him whose boss, dude. Is it ok to use those brushes on him?" He pointed to the grooming tote by the door. Chuck nodded and Dean got to work with the brushes. "Hey, Chuck, why does Castiel need a groom if he's got you?"

"Oh," Chuck responded as he took a towel to his face, "I'm actually his sister's groom, Anna. I've been having to pull double duty for them lately and it's exhausting."

When Dean ran his hand down the gelding's leg to pick up his foot, Lucifer leaned hard against him. Dean's scowl deepened as he pushed right back up against him. Lucifer had the upper hand and Dean quickly realized he wasn't going to win. With a jab of the hoof pick to Lucifer's underbelly Dean had his hoof lifted. Lucifer gave a displeased snort. "Yeah, well, I asked nicely first."

Chuck showed Dean the right boots, saddle, and bridle to put on the horse explaining what the types and purpose for everything was. Dean was just finishing buckling the throat latch on Lucifer's bridle when Castiel rounded the corner with Uriel and stopped in his tracks.

Dean couldn't help but respond with smug satisfaction, "No problems here."

Castiel was slow to approach, soaking in the fact that this stranger had been able to wrangle Lucifer so easily. Silent for several moments he kept his eyes on Dean while speaking to Chuck, "Have Mr…"

"Dean. Dean Winchester," Dean smirked.

"-Winchester sign the appropriate paperwork and show him where he will be living. Assure that when he comes to work tomorrow he is in appropriate attire." Castiel lifted his chin and stepped forward so that he was almost nose-to-nose with Dean staring directly into his eyes. "I'm intrigued. Lucifer will be my last mount today. Help Chuck complete these tasks. Your first full day will be tomorrow. I'm assuming you can manage that, Dean?"

Dean swallowed uncomfortably at the man invading his personal space but nodded, "Yeah, sure thing, Cas." Dean took Uriel from Castiel and handed Lucifer over. With a slow pat to the horse's neck he hung his head back and groaned.

What the hell had he gotten himself into?