Chapter 1
Dean tries to sleep, but there are too many distractions.
Dean looked up at Sam, who was busily typing away on his laptop, looking between a piece of paper on the table and the screen, and flipped back over in bed.
"Dude, could you go to bed! Some of us are trying to sleep around here," Dean growled, and pulled the sheets up, trying to dull the brightness of the monitor and the annoying punch of Sam's fingers against the keyboard.
"I think I found us a case," Sam said, not bothering to meet Dean's eyes, which were turned away anyways, buried in his pillow.
Sam finally got up from his chair by the motel rooms' desk, and ambling over to the door inquired, "You coming?"
"Sam, it's like 3 o'clock in the morning. I need my four hours," Dean complained exasperatedly.
Sam sighed, and stared across at Dean, lips pursed.
"Don't give me that look," Dean growled, and glared up at Sam.
"Fine, I'm going to get myself a coffee," Sam said, and slammed the door.
Coffee...At 3 am?
Dean grunted and pulled himself from the bed, moving to flip off the light on the desk which was still littered with Sam's papers. Dean lay back and settled himself snugly within the cheap sheets of the grimy motel room bed. Just as he was falling back asleep, Dean heard the flutter of wings, and snapped his eyes open.
"Hello Dean," Castiel frowned, and began to walk toward the edge of the bed.
Dean groaned and bore his eyes into the ceiling. Not again. "Cas, can't you see I'm trying to sleep here? We've been over this."
Castiel hesitated before taking a step back, "Apologies," Castiel mumbled, and turned around as if to go.
"Cas, wait," Dean started, his voice suddenly urgent.
Surprised, Castiel spun to face Dean, eyebrows furrowed slightly with curiosity.
"I shouldn't have snapped at you," Dean exhaled and patted the bed next to him.
Castiel ambled over to the ruffled sheets of Sam's bed and sat down heavily.
"Talk to me," Dean said, his eyes wide and inviting.
Castiel glanced at Dean, his face tugging into a thoughtful smile before returning to his old stoic self. "Dean, I've been wondering..."
Ting. "Hold that thought," Dean interrupted, grabbing his cell phone from the bedside table.
1 text message from Sam Winchester: Hey Dean, all is well. I've been looking into this case I told you about, and it seems like some serious vengeful spirit crap. I thought we could follow up on it at the library around 10 if you're down?
Dean settled his phone gently back onto the table.
"Who is that?" Castiel demanded, a little too urgently.
Dean looked at Castiel suspiciously. "Only Sam."
Looking relaxed, Castiel asked, "Aren't you going to answer your brother?"
Dean laughed, and absently traced his eyes over the phone. "I'd rather not. He should know better texting me so early. Not, well, no offense or anything. I was just trying to sleep, you know. Uh..."
Dean began to scratch his neck nervously, now embarrassed. God, why was he so flustered?
"I need a beer!" Dean announced, and presently pushed himself up off of the bed.
Castiel watched Dean as the beaten-up refrigerator door opened with satisfying suction.
"Want one?" Dean asked, his voice muffled as he held a beer above his head.
The refrigerator door banged shut with a resounding thud.
"No thank you," Castiel said quietly.
Dean plopped back down across from Cas and cracked open the beer, taking a long swig before gasping, "What was it you wanted to talk to me about?"
"How are you Dean?" Castiel questioned mistrustfully.
"Just peachy Cas! How about you?" Dean raised his eyebrows and gave Castiel a sarcastic smile.
"You're not fine Dean," Castiel protested, looking down at the fake-wood floor.
"Come on Cas, what's really on your mind?" Dean squinted at Castiel and took a quick sip from his bottle.
The two gazed at each other for what seemed like eons, neither daring the other to speak.
"Well, this is awkward!" Dean chuckled; trying unsuccessfully to lighten the mood, and emptied the drink with a gulp.
"Goodbye Dean," Castiel finally said, and disappeared.
