!Heads up for anyone who found this and decided to read it, this is a sequel to a story called 'Worker Bee'. If you've stumbled across this story it is strongly encouraged that you go and read the first story- otherwise you'll have a few questions. There will also be spoilers for anyone who hasn't read the story yet, as the ending of 'Worker Bee' is crucial for the beginning of this story!

Introduction: Thanks to anyone who read, favorited, and reviewed 'Worker Bee' it meant so much to me as an author. When I originally was outlining 'Worker Bee' I had no intentions of having a happy ending. It was originally planned to run a length of twenty-five chapters which was then condensed down into the nineteen chapters that you read. So this story, was planned as a follow up. I can't say if it will have a happy ending or not, but I do have a lot planned.

This story is rated M for mature because of language and violence. There are also scenes involving heavy verbal and physical abuse, just like in 'Worker Bee'. The heads up is there for any sensitive readers.

The story's title 'Silhouette' is metaphorical and symbolic, you may interpret it in anyway that you wish.

AU: Three years have passed since Dean has seen his good friend Castiel. Lots of things were left unsaid and lots of feelings and baggage was never dealt with. Still, Dean has moved on in life deciding worrying wasn't worth his time. But when his past smacks him hard in the face, how long can he afford to ignore it?

Silhouette

Chapter 1: In Loving Memory

"Hey mom." The youngest Winchester smiled as he lay the flowers down by her headstone- sunflowers were always her favorites. He seemed a bit surprised that the grave had been cleaned recently. "I thought I would come visit you, I know that I missed the third year anniversary so- well this is me making up for it."

Dean's posture was slumped, he didn't want to be here but Sam made him come. Sam said that it was good for closure- every single time they came. Dean didn't need closure, he didn't want closure. He just wanted it to go away, he didn't want to think about it.

Mary Winchester

In Loving Memory

1954 – 2008

Quite frankly, Dean didn't know how Sam managed to smile so fondly at their mothers grave. How can you be so fond of a slab of rock, with a rotting corpse underneath? He guessed that it was just one of those things that he and Sam would never see eye to eye on. That was fine, as long as Sam could respect that they just didn't see it the same way.

Sometimes Sam had this habit of shoving his nose into Dean's business. For some reason he would always pester Dean about how he was dealing with life- Dean couldn't understand why Sam wouldn't drop it. If someone doesn't want to talk about something in that exact moment, why should they have to? They should be able to just talk about it when they're ready. Dean stalked away to give his brother some time alone with the slab of rock.

It was mid October, the ground was a collage of miscellaneous shades of reds, oranges, and yellows. As Dean crossed the cemetery he watched as each step he took kicked up different colors and shapes. In a way it was very- poetic.

Dean watched as he passed each tombstone, some said 'loving father' some said 'mother, sister, friend'. All the letters really started to blend together though, it seemed like no one ever had anything original to write on a headstone. He made a mental note that in his will he wanted his headstone to say, 'stud, awesome brother, and bad ass'. It seemed fitting and it was original.

He chuckled lightly at the thought, what would people think when they read it. They would probably think that it was a cruel joke, but it wouldn't be. Dean was completely serious about all three of those things. He continued to read each marker as he passed most of them seemed just the same. All the same phrases describing people that he had never even met. That's when one caught his eye, he froze so he could read it.

Sophia R. Milton

Artist, Optimist, and Mother

1956 – 1997

The stone itself was a pink granite, the engraving was a beautiful cursive writing. Dean smiled a little, at least she was different from the rest of the memorials. Dean wasn't positive but he thought that this was Castiel's mother. Her name was Sophia, right?

It had been a long time since Cas had even crossed his mind. Strange how running into the tombstone of someone else's family member, can jog your memory about the past. About someone that you used to know but now they're just a fleeting thought running through your brain.

I love you and I'm sorry.

What did that even mean?

"It's been three years. Three years since I've seen your son. Heh. Do you- do you watch him?" Dean whispered to the tombstone. He felt stupid, as if the dead woman was ever gonna talk back. As if she was ever gonna give him any answers. Dean felt a twitch of irritation bubble behind his eyes. He wasn't really sure how he was supposed to feel about Cas and every time that he tried to think about it he either got pissed or upset. Sam would say that it was because he exposed himself to the possibility of being hurt. Dean had exposed himself and then he had been hurt, in the worst possible way- or at least he thought it was one of the worst ways to be hurt.

He sighed, glancing over to where Sam was. Good, he was still there- the last thing he needed was to have Sam hear him talking to a grave. He would never hear the end of it. Dean would have to smack him upside the head just to get him to shut up. Despite feeling stupid for talking to a rock, Dean continued anyway. "You know I- I uhh... I kept his trench coat... but I guess it's yours... And I guess if ghosts can fly around... you probably already know that..."

This was a lot harder then he thought. Partly because he didn't really believe in talking to a piece of rock but also because it was him talking. Dean hadn't really talked about his feelings in- well, he couldn't recall the last time he did. As far as Dean could figure- talking about his feelings wasn't really going to get him anywhere.

Plus, who would even listen to him? Sam- that would be great, then maybe after he cried and Sam held him gingerly they could cuddle under a blanket and watch Legally freaking Blonde.

"Did you know her?" a gentle female voice asked from behind. Deaned turned slowly, to be blinded by red hair and hazel-blue eyes. The same eyes that Castiel had, could she be the infamous sister? Either way she was pretty cute.

"No. I didn't know her. I- uh... Well... It's complicated I guess." Dean replied. She smiled, she had to be related to Cas somehow. She had the same smile and she had the same eyes.

She shifted, causing the leaves to rustle underneath her feet. "I see. She's- she's my mom. I'm, visiting from college."

"Anna right?" Dean asked slowly, "Anna Milton, Castiel's sister?"

"Yes. How did you know?" she giggled. "I don't believe we've met before."

A twinge of guilt, colored with frustration sprang up in Dean's head. He had a feeling that she had no idea what happened to her brother.

Dean laughed a little, his features becoming lose and relaxed. "No, no, we haven't met before. I- uh... Well... I'm a friend of your brothers-" he paused a moment, then extended his hand with hesitation, "A friend of Castiel's... forgot the whole 'multiple brothers' thing."

Anna nodded, taking his hand with ease. "You know Cas? Oh, wow. I haven't spoken to him in- years... How is he doing?" Anna questioned.

The guilty feeling grew but Dean shoved it to the back of his mind.

"I haven't seen him in a while- Have you been home yet?" Dean asked, wondering how much she knew about what had happened to her brother. She smiled, her smile was cute- it showed off the dimples in her cheeks. A small giggled always seemed to follow her smile. Her smile, her laugh, it had a type of warmth- like a candle adding just a little more light to the room.

I probably shouldn't find Castiel's sister cute. I feel like there's some kind of rule against that.

Dean could tell that they were related, they had the same eyes. The way that their eyes seemed to slant downwards just a little bit- so they have that natural sadness to them. That sadness that made Cas look like a lost puppy. That lost puppy look that was so characteristic of Castiel that when Dean thought about it he could see Cas in his mind. It was a gentle sadness, nothing to extreme just a tiny hint. Like a teaspoon of vanilla that had been sprinkled into some coffee. Just a flicker of pain behind closed doors.

Dean remembered the last look he ever saw in Castiel's eyes. Pain that couldn't be described in words being held back by a thin layer of drywall.

They also shared the same smile. It was also gentle, soft, tame- an air of control. Like she knew how to hide her feelings or how to manage them at least. He supposed that it was from Lucifer and always having to hide their true feelings. He supposed that it came from years of experience and practice of keeping things controlled. So while it was a soft smile, it also hurt to look at. It was a sad thing to think about.

Now that he thought about it, it didn't just hurt to look at- it hurt to think about. Probably because when he thought about Castiel's smile-

He just couldn't think about it. It hurt too much.

"Oh, no. I was headed there next. I just- I wanted to stop by here before I went to visit Gabe and Cas. I guess I felt like I needed to visit mom before I went and visited anyone else." she said with another quick smile. "I'm sorry, I hardly know you. I probably seem pretty weird."

"Nah. There are much weirder people out there." Dean reassured, showing her a soft smile. "Besides, I think I had a much worse conversation with your brother the first time that I talked to him."

"I'd imagine, Cas has never been one for conversation. He's always been so awkward, I think its the autism." she laughed wholeheartedly, "You know, I didn't catch your name."

"Dean, Dean Winchester." he replied. "You know, if I could say- you are much cuter then your brother."

Her cheeks turned a shade of rosy pink, she looked down as she giggled. Her posture was a little bit timid but she leaned forward a smidgen. "Thank you- I uhh... I don't know what to say. I guess I'm rusty- it's been a while."

"Yeah- For me too." Dean chuckled. "I mean its, its been tough- I don't know. For a long time I was too afraid to put myself out there. Everything just kind of felt like it was wrong place, wrong time. So I was just thinking- maybe its time that I started trying to put myself out there. You know, maybe its time that I move on. Time that I put myself out there."

"One can only hope, that things will get better." Anna proposed. She reached in a paper bag, pulling out a bouquet of fallen leaves. Anna laid them on her mother's grave, she remained squatting as if she was reading the memorial.

Dean watched her, the way she moved was dainty. It was as if she was more conscious of what was going on around her. Anna didn't seem to have that lack of understanding about the world around her- in that respect she and her brother differed. Castiel always had that bumbling around a subject- or missing and innuendo or joke. Anna was scribbling something on a piece of paper, then she rose to her feet and smiled, "I should be going. It was very nice to meet you..."

"Dean."

"Right, Dean. I'm sorry, I'm horrible with names." Anna said embarrassed at her slip up. She took a step forward, putting a piece of paper in Dean's hand. "Look, I'll see you around sometime. Okay?"

"Yeah. Bye..." Dean replied. Once he was sure she wouldn't turn to look back, he glanced at the paper in his hands...

You seemed to have a hard time asking for my number

I hope you weren't planning on asking my brother

about it... Talk about embarrassing...

498-555-7384

~Anna

A small smile danced at Dean's lips, he even chuckled a little. It had been a while since he had met anyone like her. He glanced up, watching her get into her car- a Lamborghini of some kind was his guess. Gorgeous car, a bright red color- the girl knew how to stand out. Though Dean had no idea how she could afford it- maybe it was in the family. She turned and glanced at him from within the vehicle- she gave him a small smile.

Then just like that, she sped off in another direction- Dean watched her leave. Then he glanced across the street where she had been parked. Someone was staring at him, he blinked to make sure he wasn't going crazy but they were still there.

"You..." he whispered, having seen a shadowy figure in quite a few places recently.

Dean walked forward, trying not to break into a run. He wanted to get to him before this guy ran off. Dean didn't run per say- it was more like a power walk on crack. Though that almost sounded worse, only old ladies and girls who can't run power walk.

He stopped in front of the crosswalk since there were cars and he couldn't cross. It was hard to really get a good look at this guy- he was in the shadows. His face was down-turned and so his features were hard to make out. It didn't help that he was wearing all black, black suit, black shirt, black pants, black shoes, black trench coat, black, black, black.

Maybe he was some kind of business man, though Dean wasn't really sure what a business man would want from him. Or maybe he had come from a funeral. He squinted trying to make out something but he wasn't able to make out anything. It probably didn't help that Dean's eye sight wasn't that great. "Dean!"

Dean turned around to see his brother, "What are you doing? One minute your talking to some girl now your trying to cross the street and you're probably gonna get hit by a car if you aren't more careful. What's up?" Sam asked.

"There was a-" Dean turned back to examine the man again, but he was gone. "At least I thought... You know what? Never mind it doesn't matter..."

"Dean. You're acting like me when I was hopped up on crazy pills." Sam said slowly, "Come on, don't tell me that you're seeing things."

"What?" Dean took another double take, "No, that's your thing Sammy." Dean reached up and ruffled his brother's hair, starting to cross the cemetery to get to his car. Sam glanced at where Dean had been staring then he followed.

"Look can you stop with the nick name? I'm seventeen years old Dean. I'm not a kid anymore." Sam complained following his brother.

"Nah. You'll always be Sammy to me." Dean replied, ignoring his brothers clear distaste for the nickname. Sam let out a loud sigh to display his irritation.

"So what- I'm just always gonna be your little brother Sammy?" Sam questioned.

"Yup." Dean answered without any hesitation. "You'll always be my baby brother."

"I hate you." Sam quipped half-heartedly.

"Oh come on Sammy, that wasn't even convincing. This time say it with feeling." Dean harassed. Sam groaned.

He shoved his brother forward, "You are impossible to deal with."

"I like to think it's cause I'm such a unique and beautiful snowflake." the elder brother joked, with heavy sarcasm. Sam just smacked his brother upside the head. "Bitch."

"Jerk."

Dean sighed behind the steering wheel of the Impalla. "I mean seriously, why would you go after the sister of someone who used to be your best friend? That really doesn't make any sense." Sam complained, turning the radio up. Some country/folk rock sounding crap was playing.

"Okay first off, you're getting that crap off my radio. My baby doesn't enjoy the sound of douche bags. And she especially doesn't want the sound of douche coming out of her speakers."

In some ways, Dean had to admit his brother had a point. It didn't make sense to take the number of Castiel's sister- he had a feeling every time he looked at her he was gonna feel guilty. But then again, he couldn't help it that she was the first girl that he felt like opening up to. It had been too damn long- three years to be exact.

He couldn't help it that the first girl he felt remotely interested in was Castiel's sister. Besides, all he did was get the girl's number- it wasn't like they were getting married.

Sam sighed- turned down the radio and then switched the station, while rolling his eyes. With those convictions- or rather delusions, Dean followed up. "Second, when was the last time you saw me with anyone?"

"Does Cas c-" the younger brother started but was promptly interrupted.

"No. Cas does not count." Dean snapped.

"But you kissed-" Sam tried again but to no avail.

Why does he assume a kiss means we were boning?

"A kiss doesn't count." Dean glanced over seeing his brother start to talk again. "Three kisses don't count either. Okay? We kissed that's it, end of story- nothing to freak out about. I don't even know why it happened in the first place now that I look back on it. I'm not gay. It was weird. My head was in a weird place."

Sam sighed realizing that his brother could be so close minded sometimes, "You kissed, cause you liked the guy. Consider yourself... bisexual. Or I guess you could for pansexual where you love people regardless of gender. You're attracted to them based on just who they are. You know, gender-blind. Or you could be polysexual meaning that you like more then one or two types of gender identities. We know you can't be asexual because obviously you have some interest in romance and sex. I mean there are so many arguments you could make about this type of thing- there are so many different gender studies and sexual preferences. People need to stop being so close minded when it comes to sexual preference. I mean you could be so many-"

"Sam." Dean interrupted.

"What?" Sam asked.

"You're not helping." Dean snapped. Sam sat back in his seat, folding his arms in protest. "Okay look, whatever me and Cas had- whatever that was- Cas and I- we- god- I don't know. We aren't a thing, okay? I don't know if we ever really were. You talking about my sexual preface-"

"Preference." Sam corrected.

"Whatever. You bringing up all the stuff that happened with Cas- look its in the past. Okay? He's off living his life being whoever the hell he's supposed to be."

"Why are you so mad about the subject of relationships-"

"We never had a relationship we were friends, we were curious. We kissed, it was weird. Now he's gone and I'm here doing my thing. End of story."

"This isn't about a relationship is it?" Sam asked as Dean rounded a corner. "This is about the fact that he's still out there somewhere. This is about the fact that you won't let me-"

"You aren't going anywhere." Dean warned. Sam looked out the window- huffing in irritation. "Look it was practically his dying wish-"

"He's not dead-" Sam tried.

"That we don't try and find him, that we don't try to save him. I may not have promised him but he asked me to do that for him. He asked me, to give you a normal life. He asked me to do that for him and to do it for you, okay? And I respect that. I may not like it- but I respect it."

Sam blinked, "You never told me that."

"I never thought I would need too. I just hoped that despite your promise, you'd wait- or forget- or something..." Dean sighed.

"Well... isn't dead. So I don't think you can say he is..." Sam replied.

"He is dead. He died the moment that he took his trench coat off. Before we went into the warehouse to save you. It was reinforced when he killed those people. The Cas I knew wouldn't have been able to even hold a gun. The Castiel that we knew died- he died because I couldn't keep you safe. So he had to go and make his own mistakes- just to fix mine." Dean explained.

"Is that really the way you see it?" Sam returned.

"Yes it is." Dean finished, resolute.

"Well you're wrong." Sam argued, his eyes fixing on objects as they passed him by in the rear-view mirror. "He didn't die- Castiel- our Castiel is still in there somewhere. We just have to find him and we just have to talk to him. When we do, then- he'll come back. Once we free him from his brother-"

"We aren't gonna do that." Dean answered. "He told us not to. He wanted to save us and he made sure that we weren't gonna get hurt. We aren't going to insult him or his memory by going against us."

"We can't just sit here!"

"Okay, do you know how to free Castiel from his 'bond' or whatever with his brother?" Dean asked, a silence filling the car. "No I didn't think so."

Dean pulled into the garage, parking the car carefully so he didn't hit anything. He climbed out without waiting for Sam to respond- as far as he was concerned this conversation was over. The elder Winchester headed upstairs- he needed to change fast so that he was ready for work.

Dean had been pulling three jobs since he dropped out of school. Tuesdays, Thursdays, Fridays, and Sundays, from nine in the morning until five o' clock Dean worked at his fathers auto shop. He had learned a thing or two about cars from his dad- enough to get him hired at least. The rest he learned as he went. Every night- unless his boss was feeling generous- he worked from seven o' clock until closing at two, as a waiter. Most nights he didn't get home until three in the morning. Then Mondays and Wednesdays he would work helping with construction- there wasn't a real time schedule for that, they were the most flexible of the group.

It felt like it was nearly impossible to keep things together half the time. Still, Dean felt like this was all that he could do for Sam. Bobby had returned back to South Dakota so he could keep working- but he paid most of the bills and he came up at least once a month. So Dean was really the man of the house now.

Not that it was much different from how he felt when his dad died. He supposed that there were only a few things that made it different- like having to come up with money if Bobby couldn't give them enough.

Or like when things needed fixing, Dean had to do it. When Sam needed something, Dean had to get it. When they needed food, Dean had to go get it. When they needed a little extra money to help with unexpected things, Dean had to scrounge it up.

But not once, did Dean ever complain about it.

At least not out loud.

"Who knew, me making an honest living?" Dean asked the mirror as he changed his clothes. He glanced over at Castiel's trench coat- a small smile twitched at the corner of his lips and he had to force it back.

Now that he had time to think about it- he realized he didn't know how he felt about his friend. Castiel was- a friend but also something more. They had kissed three times- but- they were never a couple. Not that it mattered now, Castiel had betrayed him when he lied. Then he sacrificed himself- leaving Dean to feel really torn.

On one hand, Cas had given up everything that he loved. He had sacrificed himself for Sam and Dean- he gave up everything. So Castiel was being incredibly selfless and kind. Dean was happy to know that his life meant so much to someone. He was glad that someone cared so deeply about him- they would give up everything for them.

No one could argue that Castiel didn't know what sacrifice meant. Dean was so appreciative for that, he knew that Cas didn't have to do that. He just cared so much about Dean and Sam that he decided that he had to.

Yet on the other hand, Castiel had lied to him about what Lucifer's plan was. He had kept the truth hidden so that Dean wouldn't have to be burdened with it. In doing so, he had used Bobby and Dean as his messengers.

He had also put Sam in danger- what if he had been wrong about his brother? Even if he wasn't, Dean couldn't help but let his mind stray to what would have happened if Cas was wrong. Then god knows what would have happened to his brother- he and Cas might not even be here now. That was if Castiel was even still alive.

Dean hadn't heard one thing from the guy in three years. It was incredibly frustrating and heartbreaking to know that Cas could still be out there. Then to also know that he didn't know if he was or not because the guy couldn't pick up a phone. He couldn't pop by, or leave a note of some kind. Dean understood the whole, 'I do what Lucifer says or he starts killing people' thing- but he just thought that they were closer then that.

If Dean was going out of his mind wondering about his friend- he couldn't sleep at night sometimes. He could spend hours just thinking, coming up with hypothetical situations in his head. So he figured that Cas had to be feeling some of the same things. Then there was the dreaded thought that Cas wasn't feeling the same things and Dean was just being clingy and sentimental, which wasn't his style.

Though it did pose an interesting question about whether Cas really cared or not. On top of that he hadn't looked for any other solutions but self sacrifice. Then there was the whole matter of...

I love you and I'm sorry.

Dean sighed and turned away from the mirror. All of this thinking was making his head hurt. He tucked his shirt into his pants and grabbed his wallet- throwing his coat on. He left the room switching the lights off as he exited.

"Hello. Welcome to our diner, I'm Dean I'll be your server. So can I start you guys off with some coffee or something else to drink?"

No matter how many times he asked, the question never got more interesting. Dean flashed a half-assed smile to the couple he was serving. They ordered some water and a coffee, at least that's what Dean thought they ordered- did it really matter? He had it written down.

"How's your salad?"

Of all the jobs that Dean had, this was his least favorite. It was monotonous and dull- the people were jackasses always looking for someone to screw with. He didn't want to serve these people- they treated him like dirt and he hated it. Then the worst thing was when people recognized him. They would usually screw him over because they knew that he couldn't say anything. Dean didn't have a lot of friends but he had made plenty of enemies.

"Can I get you anything to drink?"

Sometimes people would leave huge messes on purpose. Other times they would order one thing and then claim that they had ordered something completely different. Then it didn't help that his boss hated his guts and had a tendency to believe other people over Dean. Always. In fact as far as his boss was concerned Dean was always wrong.

"I'm sorry. I'll take that right back and get you a new one."

As much as Dean hated the job he needed it. Even though Dean hated everyone there and more then that he hated all of the customers that came in- he always did his best. His level of patience was indeed astounding. Since he always did his best and was always polite he was usually tipped pretty well. After an average shift he was able to walk away with at least fifty dollars.

"On the house, for my mistake."

He needed that money to cover various expenses of living, that didn't mean that he had to like the job. That didn't mean that he had to approve of himself laying down for everyone to walk on him. And it most certainly didn't mean that Dean Winchester was a push over.

It was for Sammy.

That's what he always told himself when things got terrible. That's what he told himself when things were less then ideal- which was a large majority of the time. He definitely wasn't living the dream here, but he knew someday that Sam would be. That made it all worthwhile.

"Hey Dean."

"What is it Emily? I'm kind of swamped right now. Friggan stoner babies all showing up at one in the freaking morning! Seriously, who does that?" Dean griped.

Emily was a coworker and a friend (sort of)- one of the only people that didn't hate Dean's guts. She was from Burkittsville, Indiana- she ended up getting stuck in Lawrence when she ran out of money. Her original plan had been to go to California but she wasn't sure. Every time that Dean talked to her she seemed to have a different location she wanted to go to. Either way, she was saving up the money to be able to get out of Lawrence.

"Here. Let me take those." Emily offered, taking some of the plates from him. "Once they get their food they'll be out of here soon."

"Yeah, they just come for their munchies. You can usually just give them their checks when you give them the food. They have havoc to reek in other places- things to see, people to do." Dean misquoted.

"You mean 'Things to do, people to see'?" she corrected. Dean shrugged his shoulders.

"I think I like my answer better." he replied, Emily giggled. Then she paused looking Dean up and down with a concerned face. "What?"

Her brows furrowed, her features expressing concern. Though she seemed to be hesitant about telling Dean whatever it was that was on her mind. After a few moments she decided to open up- "Well... you're really flushed and you've been having a hard time keeping up tonight. I was just wondering when you visited a doctor last? You look like you might be a little sick."

"What? Me? Nah. I'm a picture of health. I don't need a doctor." he dismissed. Emily frowned, giving Dean a strong look of disapproval that almost reminded him of his mom. Dean put his hands up defensively. "Anyway, what were you gonna tell me?"

"There's a new guy in your section. I didn't think you saw him so I figured that I would give you a heads up. He's really quite handsome." she finished, heading out of the kitchen to deliver food. Dean sighed, grabbing his pencil.

Dean observed, the guy looked like he was maybe eighteen or nineteen. He had dirty blonde hair, hazel-blue eyes. Dean was so busy observing he almost forgot to smile, "Hello. Welcome to our diner, I'm Dean I'll be your server. What can I get you?"

"Well, Dean... I uhh... I don't know yet. Can I just get a glass of water?" he asked with a soft smile. Dean glanced outside the window, in thought- noticing the same guy as earlier. Dean stared at him hoping that the guy would stare back and Dean would see his freaking eyes.

"Sorry, I'm a bit indecisive." the boy continued, knocking Dean out of his trance.

"Oh right, yeah. I'll be back in a couple of minutes, so you can have time to decide." Dean smiled, heading back to the kitchen.

These freaking people. Dean groaned, mentally stabbing each customer in the face. He was so tired, his limbs felt heavy, all he needed was a little bit of sleep and he'd be fine- for now though he just had to make it through the rest of his shift.

He scanned the windows that he could see out, looking for the man that he saw. Just like before he was gone- wishful thinking said the guy was Cas. Wishful thinking was almost always wrong though, so Dean kept it to himself. Things just never seemed to go right for Dean Winchester. It was always wrong place, wrong time- or right place, wrong time- or even wrong place, right time.

Still, he was curious as to why anyone would want to follow him. Besides working, Dean really didn't do anything note worthy. The elder Winchester wiped away some of the sweat that was on his forehead. He decided to take a glance into the reflection of the one way glass windows between the customers and the kitchen. Emily was right, he really did look crappy.

Dammit.

Just another thing to add to the list of growing problems that he didn't have time to deal with. Also on that list was the random stranger that was following him. There was also the broken pipe in the downstairs bathroom- which really wasn't that big of a deal since no one used it except guests and they hadn't had guests since mom died. There was also the issue of not having enough time for Sam, but at least he was keeping Sam well fed and taken care of. Then there was the potential depression, that Sam won't shut up.

'I wish you would just go see a doctor, you could have some major issues that therapy could help you deal with. I mean you aren't dealing with mom or dad's deaths and blah blah blah something about something...' Dean usually stopped listening. He didn't need some shrink to watch him as he laid on a couch and disclosed his every thought. Only to have the shrink come back and tell him that he needed heavy medication or some kind of lobotomy.

He could almost hear Sam's voice in his head telling him that he was being irrational. Sam was always trying to be the big brother, but the truth was he was Dean's little brother. He always had been, he always will be- it made it hard for Dean to take Sam seriously sometimes. Which he knew was unfair but he couldn't seem to kick the habit.

Dean returned to his customer, bringing him a water and taking his order. He did the whole thing with ease. About one thirty customers stopped coming in and everyone started cleaning. Then Becky asked if Dean could stay and do dishes in her place because 'she had a baby waiting at home that she was responsible for and blah blah blahdy freaking blah.'

Becky had a nasty habit of shunting her work onto Dean because she had 'somewhere else to be' or because 'she had a baby'. He knew that she was probably stressed a lot and he shouldn't be so hard on her but he just couldn't help it. If her life was really that complicated then why did she even bother working here or at the very least working this late? And she was a manager.

The good news was being on her good side helped him to get excuses and helped work to be more lenient. Also Dean needed as many people on his good side as possible because his boss hated him. Becky may have been a manager but she basically gave Dean her keys every other night- since she would always ask him to finish closing for her.

"Later." Dean said as Emily left, once she was gone he would be alone in the building. First he went around and locked all the doors and windows, then he shut most of the front lights off- heading to the back to finish the dishes.

Dean shoved his hands into the soapy waters working on scrubbing the last of the dishes. On a positive note, Emily had found out that Dean was finishing for Becky and she insisted that she do as much as she could before she left. Which was a really big help, she had cleaned the bathrooms, cleaned most of dinning room, and she had done a lot of the dishes.

Man, I am tired.

Dean made sure to check all the windows and doors again before he left, to make sure everything was locked up tightly. Then he headed out, climbing into his car and hitting on the heater. A soft chill went down his spine, he could feel goosebumps rising on his arms. Dean took a deep breath feeling a soft twinge of pain in his chest. Maybe he should go to the doctor.

Nah.

Dean Winchester didn't need to go see a doctor. He didn't need to go to a hospital, he hated hospitals. Ever since the whole, Sam ordeal- Dean couldn't help but be suspicious of hospital practices. When Dean got home he stripped himself of his clothes, feeling the layers peel off. He was sweatier then he first thought. Still, the youth was tired and didn't really seem to care about drying off. Too much work.

Dean snuggled under the blankets feeling like a bear in hibernation or a turtle in his shell. Today was a long day, but then again so was everyday. He took one last glance around the room, before he realized his curtains were still open somewhat.

The elder Winchester got up to close his blinds, glancing outside. There was that man again, down in his backyard. He didn't worry much, all the doors had been locked so it wasn't like the guy could get in. Plus if this was anything like the past encounters he'd be gone now, since Dean got a look at him. He drew the curtains closed then flopped over on his bed. This time he didn't even bother to get under the blankets, he tapped his alarm so it would go off and closed his eyes. Waiting several minutes before he decided he was too cold to be out from under the blankets.

In his fleeting moments of consciousness he thought about the man that was following him. A large, dark figure- who could it be. Again he felt soft hope in his chest that it was his old friend. He spent his last moments thinking of Castiel before sleep took him down under.

I've decided to slow the writing down a little bit, I'll probably only update every few days rather then every single day. While writing a story is fun and exciting, releasing a chapter every day can be a bit exhausting. Still, I wanted to get the first chapter up. I'm doing a little bit different formatting, I hope that doesn't throw anyone.

And so it begins again, for anyone who saw Anna and went, "I know where this is going" please don't judge until we get there. Remember how many curve balls I threw you in 'Worker Bee'?

In other news, Dean repression and denial are not good things. Please get your head out of your ass.

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