Hello, lovely readers! So, this fic? Completely ran away from me! It started out as another prompt for my hurt/comfort bingo card on LJ (the prompt is 'forced marriage', but don't let that deter you from the fic! I thought it was going to be lame at first, but I think I managed a pretty good story. At least, hopefully...) but turned in to a full fledged, two part, thirteen thousand word fic. DX I know, crazy. The second part IS finished, and will be posted if you'd like to read more.

Warnings for part 1: Cursing

Warnings for part 2: Cursing, a sex scene and a character death (not a main character and is already dead on the show)

So, without further ado, here it is! ENJOY! (:

xxx

"They've found her."

Dean feels his stomach drop to his feet. He doesn't know why. He knew this was coming.

He clears his suddenly dry throat and nods. "Yeah? What's her name?" He doesn't care what her name is. He hopes it's something hard to pronounce.

"Reyayel." Yeah, it's hard to pronounce.

"Ray-eye-what now?" he asks, trying to infuse a little humour into the situation. It works, because Castiel cracks a small smile and lets out a puff of air that Dean thinks is a laugh.

"Ray-eye-el." Castiel says it slowly, like it's unfamiliar on his tongue. He doesn't sound as if he likes the taste of it.

"Reyayel," Dean repeats. He tries to come to terms with the name, but he already hates it. He knows that's unfair. He hasn't even met the girl. "Have you met her?"

Castiel nods, says a simple "yes," and sits on the ragged mattress in the dark. They're in a fucking cave, which is, of course, ridiculous. Ridiculous, but necessary, because it's the only place they know they won't be found. There's hardly any light and it smells like stale water and moss. The mattress is old and covered in grass stains, and the sheets have Batman logos all over them because they were the only clean ones Dean could find in his house that weren't being used. He swears up and down that they used to be Sam's, but he's pretty sure Castiel doesn't believe a word of it because he always just cracks a slightly amused smile and shakes his head.

Dean sits next to him, a little farther away than usual, because he's not sure what this means. "Well? What's she like?" he asks, trying to sound like he cares. He's out of his depth here and he knows it. He doesn't know the first thing about angel mating, and frankly, he never wanted to.

"She's fine," Castiel answers. Dean notices that he doesn't sound too happy about her being 'fine'. Well, good. "Quiet. She introduced herself and then stood silently while the seekers spoke of her." Dean scrunches his nose up at the mention of 'the seekers'. The seekers can suck it. This is all their fault anyway. "She apparently has an anxiety disorder, is responsible, and takes archery lessons. She likes blue." Castiel sounds like he's reciting items off a list that he was forced to memorize for a homework assignment.

Dean scoffs. "Sounds like a party," he mutters. This Reyayel chick doesn't sound a thing like Dean. Dean has a mouth on him, and he uses it; never knows when to shut up. Dean is reckless and disrespectful. Dean is fun. If angel mates are chosen based on compatibility, and Reyayel (he even thinks the name with disdain) was chosen for Castiel, what does that say about the relationship Dean has with him?

Castiel eyes the distance that Dean put between them, frowns, and closes it gracefully. That's better.

"Stop thinking," he tells him and seems to decide he needs to go one better than just closing the distance. He throws a leg over Dean's lap and straddles his waist. Dean, despite his uncertainties, wraps his arms around the small of the angel's back and pulls him closer. "You always end up hurting when you think too much about these things. Reyayel is my mate because we are compatible, yes." Dean interrupts him with a soft chuckle, because sometimes he forgets that Castiel is more than human and can feel his thoughts. "But I don't care for compatibility. It's not what I want."

Dean sighs, and one of his hands leaves Castiel's back to run anxiously through his hair. "But it doesn't matter what you want, does it?" He looks Castiel straight in the eye.

Castiel drops his gaze first. "No. No, it doesn't."

Anger flares in Dean's chest and he growls. "It's bullshit, Cas. Your family, the seekers, your mate. It's all bullshit. Just a bunch of stupid societal rules so the angels can keep their image, keep their position over us." He subconsciously includes Castiel in the 'us'; Castiel is not a human, but he's different from the angels. He just is. "And you don't have to do shit, you know that, right? You have a mind of your own. They can't control you."

Dean has said it all before and Castiel always agrees. It's true. Every single time Dean says it, his eyes hardened with resentment and his fists clenched in Castiel's trench coat, it's true. But Castiel is loyal to a fault. He loves his family and he loves Dean. Somehow, he has to find a way to stretch that loyalty across the divide.

"I know." It's the only answer he can give.

The anger fades into reluctant acceptance then. Dean knows he can't break Castiel's loyalties, and he doesn't want to. Because even though Dean fucking hates the rest of the angels, they're Castiel's family, and if Dean knows a thing or two about anything at all, it's family.

There are a few minutes of awkward silence before Dean finally breaks it. "So? When's the ceremony?" There's the slightest hint of a sneer on his face. Castiel can't blame him.

"Thursday."

Dean blinks. "Wow. Two days, huh? You guys sure move fast."

Dean's body is rigid and still beneath Castiel now, and Castiel sighs. "There is no need for patience when you have found your true mate." His tone is biting, and Dean thinks maybe Castiel finally understands the concept of sarcasm. He smiles.

"So am I invited?"

Now it's Castiel's turn to stiffen. "Do… do you think it would be a good idea… for you to be there?"

"Probably not." Dean's nothing if not honest.

Castiel lets out another of those laughs that sound more like a sharp exhale. "You would be the only human there, other than the workers."

"Doesn't matter."

"I suppose if you really wish to be there, I could set you up with the bartenders." Castiel still sounds unsure.

"What, I can't just come as a guest?"

Castiel swallows. He looks up from the buttons on Dean's overshirt to his eyes, and then back. "I… well, they…"

Dean shakes his head and tightens his hold on the angel. "'S'okay, Cas, I get it."

Castiel nods and there's that silence again. Silence between them had never been awkward before. Dean knows it's because there's another question to ask, and they're both waiting for the other to ask it.

Dean breaks first. "So what about after?"

Castiel angles his head slightly. "After the ceremony? I suppose it would be the human equivalent of a honeymoon."

Dean had really been trying not to think about the 'honeymoon', or whatever the fuck it was angels did after their little 'mating ceremony', which was just a fancy way of saying wedding, except that angels refused to call it that because it was a 'human tradition' and angels are above human traditions. A grimace passes over his face and he just manages to hold back a sarcastic remark that would probably put Castiel on edge. Thankfully, Castiel doesn't sound too excited about the 'honeymoon' either.

"No, not that," he says, the last word coming out as a growl. "I mean… after. You know."

Castiel still has that bird-head thing going on, and if Dean weren't in such a foul mood, it would make him smile. "Are you attempting to ask me a question without actually asking it?" He gives him the patented 'humans are such odd creatures' look that all angels have, but Castiel's doesn't bother Dean as much as the others' do; Castiel's is softer, less condescending.

Dean gives up. There's no point in beating around the bush with Castiel. "I mean you 'n' me, Cas. What happens after to us?" Sure, he sounds like a chick, but Castiel never notices that kind of thing, so Dean doesn't really care.

When Castiel answers, his voice is firm and resolute, and it makes Dean's eyes widen, because this is what an angel sounds like.

"I'm not leaving you."

Dean wants to breathe a sigh of relief, but it's just not that simple. "So what? You're just gonna pull one over on Ral… Rey… whatever the hell that chick's name is? She might be a bore, Cas, but she doesn't deserve that shit."

"You're right, she doesn't. Maybe that makes me a poor excuse for an angel, but like I said, I'm not leaving you."

"Poor excuse for an angel, my ass," Dean mumbles, because all angels are poor examples of angels. Castiel has always been the best. Even now.

Castiel fixes him with a glare. "I mean it, Dean. It will take more than a mate to keep me away from you."

And despite Dean's moral qualms with being the… well, Dean actually has no idea what the male version of a 'mistress' is, so he's steering clear of that one… this is exactly what he wants to hear. It's selfish and cruel and he knows if he ever meets this Reyayel he won't be able to look her in the eye, but he can't help it. Castiel was his before he'd even heard of Reyayel. He still is. And Dean intends to make sure it stays that way.

So he relents, and only feels the briefest pang of guilt at putting up all the fight of a kitten against a brick wall. "Okay. If you're gonna be a cheating scumbag and I'm gonna be the scumbag you're cheating with, we might as well do this right." His face is sad for a fleeting moment, and then he wipes it away, replaces it with a smirk that doesn't feel quite right, and flips Castiel on his back.

xxx

They finish in record time, because Castiel has some pointless upper class angel business to attend to, and Dean needs to get home to make dinner for Sam in their run down fucking shack. It's quick and messy and despite their enthusiasm, it's almost sad. They can both feel it. They dress quickly afterwards, Dean buttoning up Castiel's shirt before pulling him into a kiss. His lips are urgent against the angel's, and Christ, it's not like this isn't going to happen again, so Dean doesn't know why he's being such a girl about it.

But they both know that Castiel will be too busy with planning the ceremony tomorrow, and by the time he gets back from his stupid fucking angel honeymoon, things will have changed. Their relationship was already taboo enough, and now, on top of angel and human, upper class and lower class, they're adding cheaters. It will be even more secretive, there will be even less time, and the guilt will probably crush them sooner or later.

And even knowing all this, Dean kisses Castiel hard on the mouth and tells him to meet him back here the moment he gets back from that goddamned honeymoon. Castiel leans up for another kiss, softer this time, and assures him that he will.

xxx

Dean walks through the door and slams it behind him, announcing his return.

"Sammy! Stop looking at anime porn and get out here!"

Sam scrambles out of his room on long and spindly legs, his mop of shaggy brown hair falling in his eyes. He's sixteen, but he reminds Dean of a puppy.

"I'm not looking at anime porn, Dean, shut up! Dad's here!" he hisses.

Dean just grins. All the better.

"Dad's home? Thought he wasn't getting back till late."

His answer is a shrug and a very uninformative "Well, he's here now," from his little brother, and that's when John walks into the living room with narrowed eyes.

"Where've you been?" His voice is suspicious, but it doesn't set Dean on edge. John always sounds suspicious when Dean or Sam come back after he does, and Dean is always careful to have an alibi. He holds up two plastic bags as an answer.

"Groceries," he explains. "We were outta bread and lettuce. And I picked up some 'Mac and Cheese' for Sammy 'n' me. Didn't think you'd be home for dinner, sorry."

John accepts the explanation without a second thought. Sometimes, when Dean's excuses are just a little lacking, Dean wonders if it's because John actually trusts him, or if he just doesn't want to know.

"It's fine," John says, waving away the concern. "I ate on the way back." He stops talking and eyes up Dean, who fidgets under his gaze. John never looks at him for this long. Dean knows it's because he reminds him too much of Mary.

Just when Dean starts to wonder if maybe his dad has caught the scent of sex that lingers around him like the cloud of smog over L.A., John nods, seemingly pleased. "You need some extra cash for clothes or food or something?" he asks gruffly.

Dean raises an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Tony called in sick for the rest of the week, says he's got a case of swine flu or something. Thought maybe you'd wanna come into the garage, take his place for a couple days."

That was unexpected. John never makes these kinds of offers. Dean's baffled. And he should jump on it, because even though he doesn't really need anything extra right now, they're poor as fuck and Dean would probably need it some time soon. But…

"I could come in tomorrow and Friday," Dean counteroffers, and John automatically narrows his eyes again. The man's smart.

"What're you doing on Thursday that's so important?"

Dean shuffles his feet and then strides towards the kitchen to put the groceries away, not wanting John to see his face while he explains.

"I'm working a ceremony, actually."

There's a beat of silence. "What kind of ceremony?"

Dean wants to lie about the whole thing, wants to tell him it's a bar mitzvah or something, a very, very human bar mitzvah, but he doesn't.

"A wedding ceremony, kinda."

"What do you mean, 'kinda'?"

"Well, it's not exactly a wedding. More of a mating ceremony." Dean waits for the inevitable blow up.

"An angel mating ceremony? The hell are you working an angel ceremony for? What are you working as?" John's voice is louder now, his face flushed a light red. Dean turns his back to put the lettuce in the fridge so he doesn't have to watch.

"Dad, chill. I don't like it any more than you do." And that wasn't exactly a lie. Dean was pretty damn sure he was going to hate it. "But you know those bastards can afford to pay well. I met a guy at the market, and he offered me a job as a bartender at his wedding thing or whatever it is, and you know Sam needs a new pair of shoes; kid's feet grew like twelve sizes in the past week. So, you know, I said yes."

Dean turns back to his father and, fortunately, his skin is slowly fading back to its original colour. Still, he's not happy. "This better not become a regular thing, Dean. I don't want my son working for angels, got it? Snobby sons of bitches are gonna treat you like scum tomorrow, you know that right?"

If they do, Dean knows he'll deserve it.

"Yeah, Dad, I know. It's just one day though. Sammy really needs those shoes."

John grunts in answer, and grabs his leather jacket off the back of the couch. "Be up at six tomorrow for your shift. I'm going to The Roadhouse." He slams the door behind him.

Dean sighs and leans against the fridge, his eyes screwed shut. When he finally opens them, there's Sam. His arms are crossed and he has that disapproving little brother look on his face. Dean can't deal with this right now.

"What?" he growls.

"It's Castiel's ceremony, isn't it?"

Dean scoffs. "Right to the point then, I guess."

Sam ignores him. "Isn't it?" he repeats.

"Yeah, Sammy. It is."

xxx

Sam knew about the whole thing. He never even had to ask; he just knew. The first time Dean had come home smelling like sex and the faintest hint of Grace, Sam had figured it out. "You just fucked an angel, didn't you?" he'd asked, and Dean had been more shocked at Sam's new addition to his vocabulary than the guess. Sam just knew Dean, and Dean knew Sam. It wasn't surprising that he'd gotten it right.

After that, Sam had pieced together details through some research on angels and some persistent pestering of his older brother. "What's her name?" Sam would ask. Ask and ask and ask, until Dean just couldn't ignore him anymore.

"His name is Cas, Sam, now seriously fuck off." And of course, Sam had teased him relentlessly. When he was finished, instead of asking a normal question like "What's it like?" or "Are you gonna tell Dad?" Sam had asked what the angel's real name was, since angel's never had names like "Cas". God, his brother was such a geek.

Geeky enough to read everything he could find about angels on the laptop that Dean had saved up for two years to get him. He'd found a ton of information, but most of it was old news, things they'd learned in history class or from their father: the angels had come to earth about a century ago, they were old as fuck (Sam had teased Dean about this, too), they'd fairly peacefully taken over the government systems and quickly risen to the top of the social pyramid. A hundred years on earth and they'd become pretty much royalty without the crowns, and yes, the humans were suffering for it, because most of the angels were corrupt, greedy little bastards now.

Sam, being the nerdy little knowledge whore that he was, found it all fascinating. But what really interested him was what he hadn't already known about: the mating.

"You know he's gonna find a mate soon, right?" he'd asked. Dean had sighed and tried to ignore him. "And I don't mean you, I mean another angel. They're called "true mates" or something and there's this group of angels called "the seekers" that go out searching for them. It sounds like some kind of angelic match making service or something, but it's not, 'cause the matches are already made. The team just goes out looking for them, 'cause if you're an angel you have to find your mate. It's like, a they all have mates out there somewhere, you know, and they're always other angels, so you're not it."

Dean's features were tense, his stiff shoulders, and Sam realized that he was trying not to react. "You didn't know," Sam had muttered, feeling stupid. "Sorry, Dean." He'd left Dean on his own for twenty minutes, and when he came back with an apple pie that he'd stolen from the market down the street (because Sam was a geek, but he was a geek with some serious skills), Dean's eyes had looked slightly red. Sam never mentioned it.

xxx

"And you're going to it?" Sam practically screeches, incredulous. Dean knows he doesn't understand. The first time Dean had found out about the mates thing, Sam was pretty sure Dean had cried. And Dean was no sissy, so unless he was just high, there'd been a serious reason for his eyes to look like that, and Sam was betting on some kind of twisted inter-species love. So why on earth Dean would want to go to the mating ceremony of the angel that he was in love with was beyond Sam. His brother must be some kind of masochist or something.

Dean nods.

"What's wrong with you? Are you trying to make yourself a bitter old hermit? Or are you trying to make him feel guilty? God, Dean, don't tell me you're gonna try and break it up."

"Shut up, Sam, seriously. Of course not, what do you think this is, The Graduate?" Dean pushes himself off the fridge and grabs the boxes of 'Mac and Cheese'.

"Then what, Dean? What are you trying to do?"

Dean's hand is already around the handle of a pot, and he slams it down on top of their shitty little stove. "Nothing! I'm not trying to do anything, dude, I'm just going to the guy's wedding."

Sam doesn't even flinch at the clang. "Bullshit."

"Stop cussing, you're like, six."

Sam ignores him again. He's good at doing that. He stares at the back of Dean's head and Dean can feel it. He lets his brother's gaze burn into him for a good five minutes until he finally feels inclined to say more.

"I guess I just want to see if he looks happy."

Sam doesn't know what to say to that, so he just helps Dean with their piss-poor excuse for a meal. They accidentally overcook it, serve it up in mugs 'cause there are no clean bowls, and eat it in front of their twelve-inch TV. 'Godzilla VS Mothra's playing on channel 10, and Dean needs to educate Sam on good horror movies, because Sam likes the remake, and that shit just doesn't fly with Dean.

Forty-five minutes in, and Sam's starting to nod off. By the time the credits hit the screen he's asleep with his head on Dean's shoulder, and Dean thinks he feels a little better.

xxx

Thursday rolls around and Dean wishes he hadn't insisted on attending the ceremony. He's all decked out in the bartender's uniform, name tag included, and he can't help but think that 'angel weddings' are the most ridiculous things ever. They're almost exactly like human weddings, from what he can tell, except that they're about a thousand times as fancy and for some reason there are no chairs. No chairs, but plenty of food and liquor, which is equally as stupid as the rest of this whole shindig since angels don't need to eat or drink.

Dean rolls his eyes and tells himself to keep it together. There are a multitude of reasons as to why he's feeling so bitter, but the main one is the most obvious: this is all for Cas and some random angel chick he met two days ago. And Dean never really saw marriage in his future, even if he and Cas had worked out, but he thinks he might just agree to walk down that goddamn aisle in a fucking dress if it means he doesn't have to watch Cas get hitched to someone else.

Dean absentmindedly pours red wine into a glass that's so obviously expensive it might as well still have a giant price tag on it. Fucking angels and their money. He looks around, grins cheekily at the other human bartender who seems like she couldn't care less what Dean does, and takes a swig. It's not whiskey or even beer, but since angels are apparently too high class for manly drinks, it'll have to do.

The music starts and Dean pours himself another glass. It's not a wedding march. It's not any kind of music Dean would expect to hear at a wedding, not that he's been to many. It's like a mix of tribal drums and harps, which is odd, but it doesn't sound too bad. There's an angel at the front who Dean knows as Gabriel, only because he's one of the major big shots in town. Gabriel has a trumpet in his hand, and he blows on it.

It's fucking loud.

Dean and the rest of the workers, all humans, have to cover their ears, but the angels seem unfazed. There are about a hundred of them, all standing in a half circle around Gabriel. That's when Castiel walks in.

He looks good. God, does he ever look good. He's wearing traditional wedding attire, just a tux and a tie and some dress shoes, but it's a nice change from his usual sloppy suit and heavy trench coat. Dean doesn't know why Castiel always wears the same thing, but it never seems to get dirty or nasty smelling, so he doesn't complain. But he's think maybe he should start, because Cas really does look hot in a tux.

This only registers for about three seconds though, and then Dean's onto the next big thing: Castiel's wings are out. They're huge and black and beautiful, and it pisses Dean right off to see them now, 'cause he's only ever seen those wings come out when Castiel's at his most vulnerable, his most beautiful, when he's writhing over or underneath Dean and crying out his name. They're Dean's wings just as much as they're Castiel's and like hell he's letting some angel bitch get her hands all over them.

Dean shakes his head. He's never been the jealous type before, and now he's feeling out of control. He needs to calm down, so he pours a third glass of the prissy red wine and gulps it down.

The angels part for Castiel, and he walks through the crowd and up to Gabriel. Dean can't see Castiel's face, and he's not sure he wants to.

And then Reyayel shows up. And fine, she's gorgeous too. Not like she needs an award for it or anything. Her glossy brown hair is up in an intricate bun and a few curls hang by her face. Her features are pixie-like and her dress looks like it cost thousands of dollars. She probably spent even more on those damn heels. Her wings are just as big as Castiel's, but they're white, and Dean can't help but think that's just not as cool. Instead of flowers, she's carrying a ball of bright blue light. It glows through her fingers and onto her face. Dean realizes Castiel is holding something similar, only his is white, and Dean really doesn't want to know where this is going anymore.

The crowd parts again to let Reyayel through and she joins Castiel in front of Gabriel. She looks nervous and Dean's a little too far away to know for sure, but it looks like her hands are trembling. He remembers that Castiel said she had an anxiety disorder. Dean shakes his head in disbelief. Aren't angels supposed to be perfect or something? Why would God create an angel with a fucking anxiety disorder?

Castiel turns slightly, and Dean can finally see his face. He's looks calm and collected, but there's a strange lack of emotion in his features. They're blank, which reminds Dean of when he'd first met Castiel. It had taken a while to get the angel to open up and show some kind of emotion, but Dean had done it, and now it's gone. Dean can't tell if that's good or bad.

Gabriel starts speaking but Dean's too far away to hear anything clearly. It goes on for a good twenty minutes while Dean just glowers at the angels and downs glass after glass of wine. He doesn't feel bad; the angels can obviously afford the loss. It's a good thing he's not a light-weight, because if he ended up drunk he'd probably start shouting "I OBJECT!" at the top of his lungs, and that would just be embarrassing.

And then things start happening. The angels close in around Castiel and Reyayel and soon he can barely see them. This is starting to look less and less like a wedding and more like a fucking cult, and Dean doesn't like it. He can hear words now, louder than before, so he assumes it's more than just one angel talking. They get louder and louder and Dean's positive that's not English, not even close, and the whole crowd is speaking it.

It only takes a few moments for Dean to realize he recognizes it, and when he does, he smirks. He's heard this language a few times before, when Castiel's nails are digging into his shoulder blades and his legs are wrapped around his waist and their skin is sliding together like it's just supposed to. It's Enochian. And Dean would bet his entire house, shitty as it may be, that since it's being used at an angel wedding, it's a lot more holy than Castiel makes it out to be when he's screaming it as he comes.

That brightens Dean's day just a little.

Not for long, of course, because Dean's just not that lucky. This whole thing is getting weirder by the second because the angels are holding their hands out in the direction of Cas and Reyayel and the whole crowd is starting to glow. Dean knows the basics about angels, mostly from Castiel, so he's pretty sure that's Grace. It looks like the entire crowd is blessing them with Grace.

It makes Dean's eyes burn a little, but he can't look away. The music is still playing and the harps have gotten louder. Castiel raises his ball of glowing light, and Reyayel raises hers. It takes Dean a second to realize that what they're holding is Grace, too. Their Grace. And… they're pushing it together. Binding it.

And that is e-fucking-nough for Dean. The light flares and he has to close his eyes. The Enochian is loud enough and the light bright enough that Dean is convinced no one will notice if he breaks the wine bottle on the floor, so he does. He's right; no one notices. If anyone asks, he'll tell them it fell, and he won't care if they believe him or not. This is just too much, too intimate. Castiel told him once that Grace is the angel equivalent of a human soul. So basically, the guy he's in love with just bound his soul to some random chick's. Because it was expected of him. And he didn't even warn Dean.

Dean might just punch Castiel in the face.

The light dies down, and then it's over. Just like that. The angels disperse and the bar starts to get a little busy as women dressed in pearls and balding men who reek of money approach to pick up glasses of expensive wine. Not one of them looks Dean in the eye when they order.

Dean's too wounded to even care.

He wants to take off, but that excuse about Sam needing shoes? That wasn't a lie. He really did. He has to stay until the angels decide they've done enough pointless drinking for the night and the happy new couple flies away to Never Never Land or wherever the fuck they're going for their honeymoon.

Dean spills just enough drinks so that his side of the bar gets a little slower, but not enough to get fired. He watches Castiel talk to his family and friends. There's no dancing, which is weird, because most of this wedding seems to be taken right out of and issue of WedLuxe Magazine (and Dean only knows what that's called because it's always on the rack by the check-out at the gas station, seriously), aside from the magical Enochian Grace bonding. But even though they don't dance, Dean still has to watch Castiel and Reyayel together. They hold hands. She kisses his cheek. He feeds her a piece of $3,000 cake.

Dean feels sick. He wishes he could convince himself that it's because this is all so disgustingly domestic and romantic, but he doesn't have it in him. It's because he's jealous. And lovesick, which he will never, ever admit out loud, because that's crossed the line from girly to full on lonely cat-lady carrying a torch for her married neighbour.

Married. Castiel is married.

An angel named Zachariah (who is, in Dean's opinion, a grade A douche) pays him in cash, and he goes home without saying goodbye to Castiel. He tells John that he got food-poisoning at the wedding and makes puking noises behind the closed bathroom door so he can get out of work at the garage tomorrow. And right before he collapses in bed, he tosses all the cash he earned at Sam, tells him to buy himself a good pair of shoes and knock himself out with the rest.

Dean doesn't want it.

xxx

So there it is, part one! Again, part two IS finished, and it will be posted later on if you'd like to read more, so let me know it a review. Thanks for reading!

- Nix (: