Nothing. There was absolutely nothing that Castiel could say or think, except "No."
It all started with a call from Sam. Castiel was meant to keep an eye on the barely-predictable Dean Winchester. However, they'd already met each other on multiple occasions by now and became loyal friends. There was no way he'd be able to ignore the blue-eyed, brown-haired seraph watching him as he attempted to drown his sorrows in hedonism.
Cas instructed himself to select a new vessel to complete his brief task, so he did. He chose one that Dean would likely never suspect. The vessel was less willing than the average religious sap that angels would prey upon. However, simultaneously, she took far less time to convince than someone such as Jimmy Novak.
The woman Castiel was inhabiting had extremely dark skin, natural hair left as is, her figure was slim, but not to an unhealthy length. She wore jeans with tears and a red blouse along with the large-framed glasses she required to see properly, though Cas didn't exactly need them.
He (She? They?) only took a few minutes to ponder his plan, but then Castiel was off. He located Dean easily, and found that he was inside of a bar, preparing himself for the rest of the night with a mild bottle of beer. He always seemed to intoxicate himself just the slightest before pursuing anyone. Cas sat at the counter of the bar, a few people in between his and Dean's seats. He didn't know exactly what he was looking for. Castiel did notice that Dean looked quite bummed on this particular day, or at least less than what he had seen before. Nonetheless, it didn't seem to be of any significance yet.
Sam simply asked for Cas to keep an eye on his brother when he went out at the bar. All he wanted was to make sure that Dean didn't drink his weight in alcohol after this particularly unsuccessful hunt. If he did, he asked Castiel to make sure Dean got back the bunker safely; Sam was out of town on a simple salt-and-burn.
Castiel was thinking about how amazing it was that he had earned such trust from two simple hunters over the years. However, that was quite an understatement. Metaphorically and literally, Sam and Dean were not "simple". They were born and bred to hunt, and to become the vessels of Michael and Lucifer. No matter their upbringing, they would have always ended up becoming hunters. That was one hell of an inevitable destiny. Plus, they were magnificently brilliant in the lone eyes of Castiel, for they were the ones who had been able to convince a seraph of only soldier intent to rebel against all orders from Heaven.
Cas was snapped out of his thoughts quickly when he noticed movement from Dean in his peripheral vision. He looked to his right and saw the aforementioned hunter getting out of his seat, all while taking a final sip of the bottle of alcohol. His despairful aura instantly disappeared and confidence overthrew the previous expression. Dean scoped the entirety of the bar before his eyes landed on Castiel.
Dean left the empty bottle on the counter in front of him and strolled without morose to the woman who he had no suspicion of being his best friend, an angel. Castiel removed his squinty expression and decided that it would be for the best if he improvised and denied Dean of moving any further than a conversation with him.
"Hey there, can I buy you a drink?" Dean asked, smirking. He disregarded the lack of space between Cas and the person sitting to his right. His elbow shifted to the counter and Dean slided into every aspect of Cas' vision.
Cas tried to relax, and let his shoulders droop, but he had no prepared reaction, and therefore came off just as awkward as ever. "Okay," he attempted to reply gruffly. He was used to being in a male vessel where his voice had a lower range, but lowering to that extent in a female vessel just caused him to sound unconfident and quiet.
Dean smiled a bit unsurely and continued trying to start a conversation. "Hey," he said, getting the attention of the bartender. "Can I get a Chardonnay for the lady, here?" After the barkeeper nodded politely and started on the drink, Dean turned back to Cas.
"So, what's your name?" he asked.
Castiel panicked for a moment, trying to think of something, anything, besides a play on his own name that would potentially give him away. He tried to go through names that sounded familiar in the past. "Anna?" he tried, anxiously hoping that Dean wouldn't make some sort of intuitive connection.
Dean chuckled a little, which weirded Castiel out a little bit, but he realized that to the average heterosexual woman, that would be obnoxiously flirtatious and alluring, so he smiled lightly. Cas hoped that he would have the chance to reject his friend soon, as it seemed like Dean's intentions were perfectly clear, and it would be embarrassing and unwarranted for him to carry through with "Anna".
The oblivious hunter continued. "Well, Anna, I'm Dean. Enlighten me! Where are you from?"
Cas was getting nervous. He didn't expect Dean to pursue him, and had no answers prepared. With anyone else, he'd most likely give a blindly angelic answer, but with Dean, Castiel had to stay meticulous and create this "Anna" character as he went along. "Um - "
"One Chardonnay, as promised!" the bartender declared. He set the drink directly in front of Castiel. At first, Cas took absolutely no interest in the yellowish liquid in a wine glass. He had no intention of accepting what a clueless Dean was trying to hand him.
Dean scoffed and smiled at the same time. "I've been to this bar hundreds of times before, and every time, that bartender brings the drink right before someone can get their words out. I'm starting to think the guy hates me," he laughed.
Once again, Cas smiled lightly.
"You don't talk much, do you?" Somehow, even over the shroud of discomfort that Cas was emitting into the bashful atmosphere, Dean managed to keep the mood up. After a few more seconds of silence, the stubborn Winchester (though without context, there would need to be more specifications) made an unsuspected reference.
"You know, I have this one friend who you remind me a lot of. See, he still had his, uh," Dean clicked his tongue, "'V-card'. I took him out to get some, and he was so unbelievably awkward. That guy wouldn't be able to tell you the difference between a woman and a turtle."
It took a moment to register, but Cas quickly realized that Dean was referencing their night at the brothel. He couldn't help but be slightly offended. The smile started to disappear from Dean's face and he lost eye contact, looking down to the drink he planned on paying for.
"So, what's your deal? Not a Chardonnay kind of girl?" he asked.
Cas completely forgot it was there. His plan was starting to come together. He would take a few sips of the drink, and make up the excuse that he had a friend he needed to look after when Dean invited him to have sex.
Castiel picked up the Chardonnay and drank from it.
Something was wrong. Something was seriously wrong. Cas suddenly felt like he was in a dream, in little control of his actions. No drug could ever influence him like this, therefore something devine had somehow been slipped into that drink. Startled, Castiel put the drink back down on the counter.
Cas must have looked flustered, because Dean replied, "It's that good, is it?" with an amused laugh. He pulled his jaw down with his hands and looked down at Castiel's vessel's breasts for a split second. "What do you say we get out of here, get a motel room, and uh, have a little rough and tumble?"
That was what pulled Cas out of his control. He looked at Dean, and hungrily grabbed his face and kissed him. Dean grabbed the small of Cas' back and reciprocated willingly. The two of them made out right there and then. Inside of his head, Castiel was screaming at himself so stop, but nothing happened. He felt the rush of the oxytocin spreading through his vessel. It was such an unwelcomed feeling. It was as if the vessel's subconscious desires had taken over and left Cas for dead. The asexual angel never felt any sort of want or need for sex.
Dean would have taken Anna to the bunker where it was more comfortable, but he knew that taking a woman into a safe haven and risking all of the Men of Letters' research being exploiting for something as meaningless as sex was absurd. Of course, that's all sex was to Dean. Unless it was with someone he loved dearly and romantically, sex was just an addicting act that happened to have some pleasant upsides. It temporarily drowned out the guilt, and that was enough for Dean.
With this woman, though, there was an odd midway. Despite the fact that he probably met Anna only twenty minutes ago, Dean felt some sort of weird instinctive connection to this girl. Sure, she was stunning, but there was something more there. That's why he had gone and hit on her, rather than all of the other beautiful specimens in the bar. Even as Dean was one-sidedly making conversation, there seemed to be an instant bond between the two.
That's why when she kissed him first, Dean felt rabid with lust. The sex the two of them had in that seedy motel room was easily the best sex Dean had had in a very long time. Dean Winchester could gladly say that he went to sleep satisfied that night. The morning was a completely different story.
Castiel spent that night in a haze. He remembered everything that happened, but not that he was truly there. What Cas did know, though, was that he had just made an incredibly awful mistake. The spell, potion, whatever it was, had affected him so much so that he actually fell asleep after the event.
When Dean woke up, Anna was pressed to his side, sleeping soundly. Part of him actually wanted to get her cell phone number and ask if she wanted to go again. However, Dean decided to be sensible for once and just leave. He slipped out of bed as quickly and quietly as possible.
Unfortunately for Dean, this Anna was a very light sleeper.
Cas woke up. He actually woke up. The fact that he had woken up from being asleep in the first place was concerning in itself. The fact that when he opened his eyes, wide awake, he saw Dean Winchester pulling his pants up was completely horrifying. "Dean?!" he exclaimed frantically.
Dean turned to face where his lay was. "Crap," Dean whispered to himself. "Uh…"
Cas sat up, trying to ignore the fact that there was no clothing on his top (or bottom, for that matter). He frowned, looking side to side as he recalled everything from the past night in an instant. "Oh, god," he reacted.
Dean buttoned his pants the rest of the way up, and hastily put his shirt on. He didn't want to be insensitive. This barely ever happened, and Anna seemed to be more freaked out than angry. That wasn't usually what happened when someone caught him trying to sneak out.
"Hey, listen, Anna. I like you a lot, and I'm being serious on that one, but I'm known for being a master of one-night-stands. I've really got to go…"
Cas understood what Dean was saying, and he should have just let Dean leave right there and then, but this he was in too much shock to say much. "No, no, no. This was a giant mistake," he thought out loud. Castiel was panicking.
'Oh, crap. She's not going to cry, is she?'
"Hey, hey. I'm sorry. I was the one who hit on you. I think I'm gonna go…"
Cas did nothing more than stare at the wall in front of him, losing his mind.
'Okay…' Dean decided to leave slowly, in case Anna decided to object. She didn't.
Now that Castiel was alone, he had some time to ponder what had happened. Maybe, if he just pretended it didn't happen, everything would go away. Dean wouldn't know, Sam wouldn't know. Only Cas. That seemed most reasonable. All he had to do was go back to Jimmy as a vessel.
It was never that easy, was it? Castiel didn't seem to be able to leave the vessel. No matter how many times he tried, his attempts were to no avail. If Cas was panicking a few moments ago, he was completely losing it now.
What the hell should he do? Would it be wise to tell Sam about his predicament? From what Cas heard, Sam and Dean had very recently found an abandoned Men of Letters bunker. That's most likely where Dean was headed. Of course, he couldn't go there. Although, Sam may be able to do some research on why Cas was stuck, and what had been in that Chardonnay from earlier.
Reluctantly, Cas fished through the clothes his vessel was wearing and looked for a phone. Luckily, one was there. However, Sam wouldn't recognize the number straight away. It may take a few attempts for him to pick up.
The dial tone sounded twice. "Who is this, and how did you get this number?"
"Sam. It's Castiel," he responded, forgetting that his voice sounded acutely different from Jimmy's low and gravelly voice.
"Cas?"
"To watch over Dean without suspicion, I decided to temporarily inhabit another vessel," Cas responded to the unspoken question.
"Okay… Why are you calling? Dean just got back from wherever he was last night, same with me. Did something happen?" Sam inquired concernedly.
"Yes, Sam, there appears to be something very wrong."
After a few seconds of silence, Sam checked to make sure Cas was still on the phone. "Care to elaborate?"
"Oh, yes. Before I explain, I want it to be clear that none of this was my intention," he disclaimed.
"Okay…?"
There was an incredibly long moment of silence where Cas tried to shove himself into doing it. However, it certainly didn't work. At last, he flaked. Maybe he'd tell Sam later. "I'm stuck in this vessel. I can't seem to go back to Jimmy's body."
It didn't take long for a response, which made everything less terrifying to Cas. "What?" Cas could practically hear Sam sitting up straighter in his chair, looking at Dean with a puzzled face. Dean was probably looking at him in a similar manner. That is, if Dean was there. "Did something happen?"
There it was. Now that he'd made his decision, there was no way he wasn't going through with it. Here comes a long series of lies. "Not that I recall. I simply can't smoke out."
"Oh, alright. I guess come over to the bunker and we can see what the Men of Letters have on vessels?" It was as if Cas could see the question being directed to Dean rather than him. He wondered if he was on speaker. Probably. Man, those two were predictable.
"I may not be able to come inside if it's warded. Where is it?" Of course, Castiel was stalling. Imagine he walked into the bunker and saw Dean, who quickly realized that he'd had sex with the girl standing in front of him. Not the best idea, is it?
Then came the reply: "Lebanon, Kansas. You've heard of that bunker?'"
"Of course."
"Okay. Dean and I will check to see if there's any warding against angels, and if there is, we can take it down. For now, we'll look into it and call you from this number if we find anything?"
"That sounds fine," he said, before promptly hanging up, leaving Sam to absorb this information. That would give him a few hours head's up to come up with a solution to the Dean problem.
Sam was sitting at a main table in the Men of Letters bunker. Cas had left Sam with some options. He could do some research, and ask Dean to do some research of his own.
The oldest of the Winchesters had recently gotten out of the shower. His hair was spiky and damp, a cream cheese bagel on the plate in front of him. They'd both heard everything in the call, just as Cas had predicted.
Dean spoke as he had a bite of his breakfast in his mouth. "How was the hunt?"
Sam snapped out of his thoughts very quickly, just in time to have caught the question. "It was really easy. It didn't take long to find the source of the ghost and burn their bones. Nothing more to it, for once," but things never ended that simply, did they?
"Awesome. Well, guess what? I had the weirdest thing happen this morning. When I was slipping out from last night's activities, she actually woke up, and like, freaked out." He took another bite out of the bagel. "It was like she completely forgot what happened, but let me tell 'ya. She was the best sex I've had in years, no competition," Dean said, zoning out on his last words.
Sam grimaced. "I don't want to hear about your late-night endeavors, Dean."
"Well, someone's sure a sourpuss this morning, isn't he?"