A/N: I would recommend watching episode 2x20 before reading this, because this is based almost entirely on the universe in that episode. So, I'm branching into Supernatural fanfiction, with much fear and trepidation. I have most of this written already, so if you like it, I'll post more.
The only thing Dean could think about was what his mother would say. He knew what Sam would say- his brother had always thought of him as a failure, unable to take care of anyone, including himself. His split with Carmen had only served to cement that in the minds of everyone he knew.
He sighed and put his head in his hands. After Carmen had left him, saying that he 'always had his mind elsewhere,' whatever the hell that meant- anyway, after she left him, he just lost all sense of purpose. He'd spent all of his time in bars, more often than not getting into fights and staggering home at obscene hours of the morning decorated with cuts and bruises.
Obviously, this resulted in Pete getting on his case at work. Even though Pete had been an old friend of Dad's, he was also a good businessman. Dean couldn't blame him, really. Couldn't blame any of them, not even Sam. After all, look where he was now.
Dean glanced around the cell full of passed-out drunks and wondered where the hell his life was going.
Suddenly a gravelly voice very close to him said, "Dean Winchester." It was a declaration, not a question, and Dean looked up.
Standing outside the cell, as close to the bars as was physically possible, was one of the weirdest guys Dean had ever seen. It wasn't exactly how he looked, though sure, the rumpled suit and trenchcoat weren't exactly normal, especially when combined with the messy hair- but it was the guy's whole attitude that that was weird. Like the way he stared at Dean like Dean had the answer to everything.
"What's it to you?" Dean snapped in return, the alcohol and his situation making him more belligerent than usual.
"I am Castiel," the guy said, as if that meant something to Dean.
"Good for you," Dean said, "What the hell do you want with me?"
"You are not supposed to be here," the guy- Castiel said, furrowing his brow.
Dean let out a bitter laugh. "You're telling me," he said, "My brother always tells me that I should settle down and have a normal life like him. You know, a beautiful wife, a dog and a respectable job."
"Your brother…" Castiel said contemplatively, "Sam Winchester."
"How do you know that?" Dean snapped, suddenly aware of the oddness of the situation, "Who are you?"
The other man tilted his head and said, "I am Castiel. I'm an angel of the Lord."
Now it was Dean who did the staring. "Bullshit," he said.
Castiel looked mortally offended. "It is not. I have been sent to retrieve you."
"Retrieve me?" Dean said, "For what? Angel school?"
Castiel frowned and said, "Humans cannot become angels, Dean."
Dean laughed. "Of course, why didn't I remember that?"
"You wouldn't have known," Castiel said gravely, apparently not detecting the sarcasm. "I was sent here because you are fated to stop Lucifer from rising."
Dean stared again. "Double bullshit," he said, then added, "Who's supposed to have sent you anyway?"
Castiel drew himself up regally and said, "God has sent me here."
Dean's reaction was obviously not what the supposed angel expected. Dean sighed and leaned back against the moldy wall and said, "Well, that's great for you, Sparky, but God hasn't really done jack for me so far."
"My name is not Sparky," Castiel said irritably, "My name is-"
"Yeah, yeah, it's Castiel, I know. You've said," Dean replied, "It was a nickname."
"Oh," Castiel said. He paused to consider. "I don't think I like it."
Dean leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. "If you're an angel," he said, "then prove it."
Castiel looked at the unconscious bodies in the cell with Dean, and said, "I will. But not here."
"If you've got a way to get me out of here, I'd love to hear it," Dean said, looking away from Castiel for a second to survey his surroundings. When he looked back, the other man was inside the cell and disturbingly close into Dean's personal space.
"What-" was all Dean could get out before Castiel toughed his forehead and he found himself in his apartment.
"What the hell was that?" Dean yelled, and if his voice went higher than normal, well, he figured he had a damn good reason.
"Proof," Castiel said, and he looked awfully smug for a guy who was supposed to be righteous and holy.
"Okay," Dean said, trying to get his bearing. "Okay. I'm dreaming, I must be. I'll just try and wake up and-"
"This isn't a dream, Dean."
"It has to be," Dean insisted, "Because angels aren't real."
"Angels are real," Castiel said steadily, "As well as demons, ghosts, vampires, and every other thing you told yourself wasn't trying to kill you."
"This is crazy," Dean said, "You're crazy. Get out."
"No," and now it was Castiel that was insistent. "You have a destiny to fulfill."
"Screw my destiny!" Dean said, "And screw you. You can't shove all this on a guy at once."
"Dean-" Castiel said, obviously growing more irritated the more time he spent with the mechanic.
He was interrupted by Dean's cell phone ringing. Dean dove for the phone, which was on the table, desperate for anything to get him out of this bizarro conversation. "This is Dean," he said, ignoring Castiel's look of betrayal.
His mother's voice came across the line. "Hey, Dean. Can we talk?"
"Um, now?" he said, glancing at Castiel, who was glaring at the phone like it had just burned a cross in front of him. "Because now's not really a good time."
"I was hoping we could talk face to face," his mother said, "Do you have tomorrow off from work?"
"What? Uh, yeah." Castiel was now staring intently at him, as if trying to will him to put the phone down. Dean wondered if angels needed to blink.
His mother was saying, "Why don't you come over for lunch? We can have a talk, you know, some mother-son bonding ti-"
"Yeah sure, Mom, I'll be there, see you then. Bye." Dean felt bad for blowing his mom off like that, but this situation was too weird for him to be concerned with manners.
He and Castiel stared at each other for a long while. Dean's gaze was accusatory, trying to bore into the angel's mind. Castiel's stare was simply confused, as though he couldn't understand why Dean would object to what was going on. Finally, Dean said, "I still don't believe you."
Castiel nodded in acceptance of this. "You will," he said.
Dean sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. "I'm too drunk and tired to deal with this right now," he groaned into his palms.
"You're going to have to deal with it sometime soon," Castiel's voice said from above him.
Dean looked at the angel and said, "Not. Now."
Castiel nodded his head, apparently in assent since he disappeared a second later, leaving nothing behind but a blossoming migraine in Dean's head.
Dean looked contemplatively at the bedroom. It had been a long day, quite possibly the longest in his life, and he should get some sleep. After all, getting drunk was what got him into this situation to begin with…He shrugged and headed to the fridge to get a beer.