Hello dear reader, welcome to "Are We Dating?". This is my newest story for the yearly DeanCasBigBang challenge, which is also my first BigBang. I hope you will like the story! Please go check the wonderful art created by vinnie-cha (on tumblr) and give her a warm "Thank You!" for her amazing art!
Enjoy!
(***)
"I don't need a shrink!" Dean told his colleague and friend Benny Lafitte. "The psych-eval already gave me the go!"
"It's not a shrink, brother. And yeah, you kinda do," Benny replied softly.
Dean grumbled but eventually kept his mouth shut. He turned his head and looked outside the window, lazily eyeing the buildings as they drove past them. He was not in the mood for arguments.
After ten minutes, they reached their destination, a four-story building which did not look well-maintained. Benny parked the car and turned off the ignition.
"Look, all you have to do is do whatever the guy tells you, answer his questions, then you'll be back in the force in no time," he said in a low voice.
Dean turned slightly to face him. Benny gave him a concerned look and Dean felt bad.
"It's already been one month," Dean said with a dismissive gesture. "I'm good!"
"Hey, I'm not the one you should convince," Benny said. "Get the paper signed and Singer will reinstate you right on the spot."
This whole administrative deal was a bother for Dean. He caught the bad guys, they were in a place where they could not hurt anyone anymore and Dean was proud of his achievement. But since he finished the job, he had been moved from one safe house to another, trying to make sure no mafia mob would ever find out Dean was the snitch or worse, that he was a cop. They went to great lengths to make sure his identity was preserved, that his cover would hold until the whole organization collapsed. And here he was, five years later, after doing one hell of a job, needing to prove he was not compromised, that he still could be a cop without being undercover. Dean found this ridiculous, on the verge of humiliating. He knew his captain had no other choice: prove you are sane or get out.
"Can you do that, brother?" Benny asked.
"Yeah, of course!" Dean reassured him.
"Let's get going then."
They got out of the car and headed towards the building. The office was on the second floor. They took the stairs, which looked like they had known better days and entered what seemed like the only office on the floor. As soon as they entered, they felt like they stepped into a high business company. Every piece of furniture was new and seemed expensive, the white walls were decorated with tasteful modern art and the whole room was well lit with half a dozen stylish lamps.
Behind her desk, the receptionist looked up. She tucked a lock of long black hair behind her right ear before greeting them.
"Mr. Winchester?" she asked.
"Yes, that's me," Dean answered, holding his right hand up.
"He will receive you now," she said, indicating the door on the right.
"I'll wait for you here," Benny told Dean, taking a seat next to the receptionist.
"Alright…" Dean sighed. "Let's do this."
He walked towards the door and stopped for a few seconds, allowing himself some time to calm down before facing whatever psychiatrist or voodoo maniac he was about to meet. He breathed in and out, slowly.
He opened the door and stepped into the office.
The first thing Dean noticed was the soothing atmosphere of the place. Huge windows with modern curtains, gentle lighting, comfortable looking armchairs, some plants here and there and a serious-looking man in front of him.
"Mr. Winchester, I've been expecting you," said the man behind his desk in a gravelly voice, looking up from the papers that were spread out in front of him. "Come on in."
Dean closed the door behind him. Immediately, the man stood up, walked around his desk and held out his hand. He was about Dean's height and had dark hair.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Winchester, I'm-"
"Yeah sure," Dean cut him right away. "Let's get this over with, okay?"
He didn't shake his hand. All he wanted was to get that damn paper signed at the soonest and go back to being a cop.
"Sure," the man replied, withdrawing his hand. He indicated the two armchairs facing each other.
"Please, have a seat."
Dean obliged and sat down, followed shortly by the dark haired man, who took hold of a notebook and a pen. He crossed his legs and started scribbling.
"Ready when you are," he told Dean.
He nodded. "I'm ready."
"Right. Let me tell you about the whole process-," he began.
"I'm aware," Dean interrupted. "You'll ask me questions, tell me to do things, right?"
"That's a really short summary, but basically accurate."
"Alright then! Shoot, Mr. Shrink."
"I am not a psychiatrist, Mr. Winchester," he replied, tilting his head slightly.
"Whatever, man, let's move on," Dean said with a dismissive hand gesture.
"Sure. What is your name?" the man asked.
"What?" Dean shot back. "You already know that!"
"Yes, and I would like you to tell me," he answered calmly.
Dean sighed. "Look I don't know what game you're playing, but this is ridiculous!"
The stern-faced man kept quiet, only looking straight at Dean, leaving him a bit uncomfortable.
He surrendered. "Dean Winchester."
"Thank you Mr. Winchester," the man replied, scribbling in his notebook. He remained silent for a few seconds before asking, "How old are you?"
"Thirty one as of last January."
He looked down on the notebook and made some annotations in silence. "Do you have any family?"
"Yes, two parents and a brother."
"What are your parents' names?" the man continued, still writing.
"Are you gonna write down everything I say?" Dean asked.
"Yes. Leave that part to me and please focus on answering my questions, Mr. Winchester."
Dean frowned. "Seriously?"
Seeing that he had to play the game, he once again conceded. "Mary and John Winchester."
"Are they still alive?"
"Yes."
"Where do they live?"
"Lawrence, Kansas."
"What is your brother's name?"
"Sammy… Sam Winchester," he corrected himself, wiping his hands on his jeans.
"Where does he live?"
"Stanford… I guess?"
"Do you often meet with your family?"
"In case you didn't know, I've been kinda busy these past years." Dean replied. He sat a bit straighter. "Couldn't get time off to spend happy jolly holidays with them!"
"No need to be sarcastic, a simple no would have suffice," the man told him, making Dean grumble. "Were they aware of your mission?"
"No," Dean said in a low voice.
"How did you avoid the topic?"
"Simple, I avoided them," he shrugged.
The man stopped writing and looked at Dean, frowning. "You have not been in contact with your family for over five years?" Dean almost detected concern coming from the not-psychiatrist.
"Nope," he provided, shrugging again.
"Do you plan to?"
Dean hesitated. It was a sore topic in his life, amongst many others of course, but this one he avoided thinking about ever since he was approached for the mission. Now that everything was over, he just wanted to call them and tell them he's alright, meet with his brother and hug him tight. But he would prefer to wait until he was settled down and not moving from one safe place to another. Actually, he even wanted to wait until he was officially back on the force.
"I don't know…" he answered, looking away from the man. "I'll see how things go."
The man kept silent for a few seconds before asking another question. "Have they tried to call you during your mission?"
"Yeah, they did," Dean sighed. "They called me, called the precinct, filed a missing person report."
He let out a laugh. "My buddy Benny, he err-" he hesitated, rubbing once again his hands on his jeans, eyes looking over the man's desk. "He was my handler and he told me it got ugly."
The man nodded, encouraging Dean to continue his story.
"So he came up with the weirdest story, telling my parents that I had met some Russian stripper and followed her back to Moscow or whatever city over there."
He let out another laugh. "I wish I had seen my brother's face when he learned that. I'm sure it was worth a million bucks!"
He returned his attention on the man in front of him. "But it did the trick. They just accepted that I abandoned them to elope with some chick. At some point they stopped looking. That was for the best."
Dean watched the man continue writing in the notebook, his face serious and emotionless. Dean had been expecting some kind of reaction to the story. Well, he thought, that's how professionals handle people like me.
"You got other questions, Doc?" he asked.
"Not a doctor. And yes, several others. Have you found accommodation yet?"
"No, not just yet. I'm still moved around. You know. Safety reasons."
The man nodded once then focused on his notebook.
"Are you currently romantically involved with a person?"
"Nope, free as a bird!"
"Were you romantically involved with someone during your mission?"
"That's classified, sorry, can't answer."
Dean saw the man squint, clearly doubting his statement, but to his relief, did not press any further.
"How were you recruited for the mission?"
Dean let out a long, loud sigh. He looked up to the ceiling, trying to remember.
"You want the short or the long version?" he finally asked after several seconds of silence.
The man gestured towards Dean. "As you wish."
Dean chuckled. Ever since "The Princess Bride" he just couldn't take anyone saying this seriously. "Weeeell… that was five years ago. A bit more actually. I was about to finish the Academy when I was approached by Benny and Captain Singer. They told me about the project, about the risks of course. They gave me a few days to think about it and I accepted the offer. It went on pretty quickly. My record got sealed, Benny got to be my handler and Captain Singer was in charge of reviewing my reports."
The man wrote everything down in his notebook, nodding here and there to what Dean told him.
"Were you aware the mission would last five years?"
"Nope!" Dean laughed. "It was supposed to be one year at most. But considering the gang trusted me more and more and I got higher in the ranks, we kept going until we could catch that Scottish son of a bitch."
"How about Benny Lafitte?"
"What about him?" Dean asked, frowning a little.
"Are you romantically involved with Benny Lafitte?"
"What? What's that for a question? No! He's a married guy! Your questions are ridiculous!" Dean exclaimed, feeling anger rise in his chest.
"My apologies. May we move on?" he answered while writing down. "What is your relationship with Captain Robert Singer?"
"Well, he's my captain, my boss. He's really a good guy, helped me out a lot. Really someone you can count on."
Dean tried manage his unease. He looked at the man and allowed himself to observe him a little more in detail. Did that guy really wear a crooked tie? Didn't he notice?
"Hey, Doc. Is this gonna take long?" he asked, feeling on edge. His leg started to get restless.
The man looked at his watch. "Not a doctor. And as a matter of fact, we're done for today."
"Cool, so can I get the paper? Then I'll be on my way, okay?"
"I am afraid you cannot. This is only the first step of evaluation. You understand that your mission was exceptional in its length and difficulty, hence it requires a bit more than just 30 minutes of chatting before I can officially hand over my approval." the man replied in the same monotonous voice.
Dean couldn't believe his ears. "You're joking, right? Is this some sort of bad joke?"
"I'm afraid not. I suggest we meet again in two days. Unless you prefer once a week?" he asked with that gravelly voice of his.
"Do I even have a say in this?"
"You can choose how many times we meet: twice a week or once a week."
Dean clenched his fists against his thighs. He felt that same anger rise again from deep within him. "This is crap. Utter bull crap!"
"I am sorry but if you want to go back to the force, it is the only choice I can offer you."
Dean couldn't take it anymore. What did that guy even know? Clueless high-educated jerk, he thought. He stood up and faced the man.
"You're not helping, Doc," he said menacingly. "I need that piece of paper signed!"
"Not a doctor. And you will get it," he replied, without even flinching, "just not today, just not now. But you'll get there." He looked at Dean straight in the eyes. "So what is it going to be? Twice or once a week?"
Dean kept silent for a few seconds, his teeth gritting. He could not believe that sheer arrogance. Dean's whole future depended on that paper and that man was standing in the way. He clenched his fists and tried to regain control of his emotions. Now was not the time to deck that asshole. Not yet anyway.
"Once," he finally answered. With one swift movement, he turned around. "No need to show me the way out!" he shouted while opening the door.
"I'll see you next week, same time, Mr. Winchester!" he heard once he reached the reception.
"Let's go Benny, before I break his nose!"
Dean did not wait for his friend's answer and left the office, furious.
(***)
The next Wednesday, Benny and Dean were en route to the office. Exactly one week had passed and for Dean, it had been hell on earth. He had had to do tons of paperwork, review all his notes, statements and witness testimonies about the Crowley organization. The trial was being prepared and, despite the fact that everybody was 99% sure all the bad guys were put away, they still needed to double-check, triple-check the data. And there was an incredible amount of data. But that actually helped Dean a bit. He did not remain inactive during his hiding in the safe-house, which was good, all things considered.
Benny and Dean had been driving for about fifteen minutes and all they had talked about was Dean's behavior last week, how unhelpful he was and that it was basically his fault he did not get the signature.
"Brother," he said. "You gotta understand that this guy is the only thing standing between you and your desk at the precinct."
"I know…" Dean sighed. "I was a total dick."
"You kinda were," Benny agreed.
Dean gave him a sideways glance. "Something was off about him. He kept asking personal questions or - or stupid questions, you know?"
Benny took his eyes off the road for a few seconds, looking at Dean instead, a little smirk on the lips.
"Or nothing was off," he finally said, focusing on the road again, "and you just got angry because you didn't get what you wanted."
"What? No! Of course not!"
"You know, if you can't keep your anger in check, you just prove him right to not sign the paper."
"So you're on his side? Thanks a lot Benny!" Dean said, crossing his arms and feeling a little bit betrayed by his best friend.
"Dean…"
"So nice and supportive of you!" He insisted.
"Come on, Brother…"
Dean let out a sigh. "Sorry. I know, you're right. I'll work on my anger management issues."
"Good. I know that's what saved your life a few times but you gotta keep yourself in check."
"I will."
They drove in comfortable silence until they reached the office. Benny waited in the same chair next to the secretary.
As soon as Dean entered the office, the man looked up and immediately stood. Dean noticed he was still wearing that ugly crooked blue tie. It looked ridiculous on him.
The man extended his hand.
"Mr. Winchester, right on time," he said, voice deep and face as serious as last week.
Willing to be at his best, Dean took his hand and shook it.
"Hey, Doc?"
"Still not a Doctor, Mr. Winchester," he replied, his eyes locked on Dean's.
Suddenly, Dean felt an urge to walk away. How could someone have such piercing blue eyes? Something was really off with that not-Doctor.
"Yeah, right… errr… I wanted to apologize for last week," he managed to say. "And if that's okay with you, start fresh?"
The man nodded and Dean felt it was a win for his cause.
"You don't have to apologize, I've faced worse. But if you would feel more comfortable, we can do that."
"That would be a start?" Dean said. "Mister..?"
"Novak. Castiel Novak."
"Not Doctor Novak, then?" Dean joked.
"Indeed not. You can call me Castiel if that helps."
Dean hesitated. "I can try."
Castiel nodded and let go of Dean's hand. He hadn't even realized he had been holding his hand for this long.
He looked away and went to sit on the armchair. Castiel followed him a few seconds later with a pen and the same notebook. He flipped several pages, crossed his legs and started writing.
"Whenever you're ready, Mr. Winchester."
"Dean," he corrected. "If I'm going to call you Castiel, please call me Dean. I'm not into formalities so…"
"Fair enough, Dean. Are you ready?"
Dean exhaled loudly, wiped his hands on his jeans. He did not feel ready. Not one bit. But he had no choice and needed to play nice. He gathered his thoughts then looked back at Castiel.
"Ready." he announced.
Castiel nodded.
"Have you found a new accommodation?"
"No, I'm still moved around, but next week or the week after, I should be able to find an apartment."
Just like the previous week, Castiel wrote all information down, making some annotations in the margins and keeping silent, not making any comment on whatever Dean told him.
"Have you contacted your family?"
"No, not yet. I want to settle down first." Dean replied, focusing on his breathing. He needed to remain as calm as possible.
Scribble, scribble.
"Have you met anyone from your precinct? Captain Singer? Other colleagues?"
"Yes, Captain Singer once."
Scribble, scribble.
"We, err… we had a discussion about you actually," Dean felt obliged to continue.
"Really?" Castiel asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Yeah, he literally blasted me for not playing nice with you!" Dean explained as he let out a laugh.
Scribble, scribble.
That was not the reaction Dean had hoped to get.
"Hence your apologies," Castiel commented.
"He and Benny were right," Dean continued. He saw Castiel raise his head from his notebook and look at him with those penetrating blue eyes.
"I need to control myself," he explained. "I'm not a very social guy, you know?" He shrugged, silent for several seconds. "I need to work on that." he admitted.
For the first time, Castiel put his pen down, letting it rest on the notebook. He frowned, making Dean uncomfortable.
"What are you trying to say, Dean?"
"Well… you know!" Dean mumbled, wiping his hands once more then making awkward gestures.
"Not really, no."
"After five years in the mob, my err…" he searched for the words. "My people skills are rusty."
Castiel's frown deepened, if it was even possible.
"I should not comment on your replies, Dean but…" he held up his hands "your 'people skills'" he quoted with two fingers "are not rusty,'" he quoted again.
"Then how do you explain my behavior last week? I was being a dick!" Dean said, raising his voice.
Castiel hesitated, eyes still locked on Dean. Time seemed to slow around them as they stared at each other. Finally, Castiel grabbed his pen. "We'll discuss this later," he told Dean. "Let's go back to some other questions I have for you." He looked down on his notebook. "When did you decide to become an officer of the law?"
Dean exhaled, not realizing he was holding air for so long. He allowed himself a few seconds to settle, hating the uncomfortable feeling that was lingering after their exchange.
"When I was a kid," he managed to reply. "Home invasion when I was… four? I guess?"
"What happened?"
"Short or long version?"
"As you wish."
"You'll need to stop using that sentence, Cas!"
"Why?" Castiel asked, looking up from his notebook and showing more incomprehension than surprise at the use of the nickname.
"Never mind." Dean chastised himself for his uncooperative mouth. "Apparently the guy managed to enter the house in Sammy's nursery because the window wasn't closed. My Mom caught him, there was a fight, I ran to the room and my dad put my baby brother in my arms, told me to run outside. I remember my Mom lying on the floor. Thought she was dead. Dad tried to chase the guy down but he was never caught."
"How old was your brother?"
"Sammy? Sam… he was six months old, something like that."
Painful memories that Dean really did not want to think about. He forced himself to focus on the here and now.
"And you carried him outside the house all by yourself?"
"Yep! Hey, I'm the big brother! It's my job to keep my baby brother safe!"
Castiel wrote the whole story down.
"How was your mother?"
"She was knocked out. Nothing serious. She had nightmares after that, though. Dad installed some security on the windows and all. We couldn't afford a proper alarm system, with my dad's mechanic income, you know."
"That's when you decided to…"
"Become a cop, yeah." Dean interrupted Castiel. "To help people, so it wouldn't happen to anyone else."
Castiel nodded and continued to scribble on the notebook.
"When did you join the academy?"
"When I was twenty-four… or twenty-five, something like that."
"What did you do before joining?"
"I got small jobs, here and there, helped my dad at the garage. It helped pay the bills… Sam's college…"
"Didn't you want to pursue another career? Maybe go to university?" Castiel asked, glancing up at Dean who chuckled.
"Nah! That's not for me! I'm not the standard university-academic-diplomas kind of guy!" he grinned.
"Doesn't that bother you?" Castiel asked.
Dean's smile fell. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. He frowned.
"I never thought about it," he admitted "But I guess I'm more of a hands-on kind of guy." He looked at the man writing in front of him. "You sure you're not a shrink?"
"Still not a psychiatrist, nor a doctor, Dean."
"Your questions are kinda shrink-y," Dean observed.
"That's my job, asking questions, analyzing the answer, detecting the lies." Castiel clarified with what Dean thought was a smile.
"So like a mentalist?"
"More or less."
"You mean, you'll know when… if I lie?" Dean asked, a little hesitant.
"Yes, Dean."
"Cool…" he let out automatically. Castiel was starting to impress him. He really must be something if the force commissioned him to testify on his civil rehabilitation. He really should be more careful about his answers. However, today's session what going on alright. There was no palpable tension like last week. Castiel seemed more relaxed and so was he. Benny would be happy to learn things were finally moving in the right direction. Maybe he could ask about the paper? Or was it too soon?
Castiel started to speak, bringing Dean back to reality. "I understand you're still under protection?"
"That's correct."
"How do you spend your days?"
Dean shrugged. "Depends. Since last week we're reviewing all the files, checking if we missed something. It's a lot of work, but necessary."
"If you could do anything, right now, no consequences whatsoever, what would you do?"
Dean let out a loud laugh, making Castiel's head shoot straight up, eyes opened wide. "What's that for a question? What would you do if you were a billionaire?" he continued laughing. "That's unexpected from you!"
Castiel tilted his head to the side, squinting at Dean. "Every question matters, Dean."
"Alright, alright! Don't get your panties in a twist, I'll answer!" he replied, still smiling at the strange question. He took a deep breath and thought about his answer. He knew exactly what he wanted to do, but admitting it out loud was unacceptable. Once again, it was a sore topic he wanted to avoid at any cost. "I'll grab a burger at the Roadhouse then go watch a movie. And if I'm on a roll, I'd get a six-pack, go home and watch reruns of Dr. Sexy M.D." He shook his head, smiling. "Yeah, that'd be awesome."
Dean happily noticed Castiel wrote everything down, not showing any sign of disbelief.
"Shouldn't you use a recorder or something?" Dean suggested. "Would be easier than writing down."
Castiel looked at Dean. "Are you trying to suggest I am doing my job incorrectly?" he asked.
"What? No! Of course not! Geez, it was just small talk!"
"I know, Dean, it was a joke." Castiel explained with a half-smirk on the lips.
Dean remained speechless for the second it took him to gather his usual quirky self.
"Oh… right. Well, don't switch careers, Cas! Never become a humorist!"
"So I've been told," Castiel replied, still smirking.
That answer took Dean aback. He didn't think about it because Castiel seemed cold, distant and overly-serious, but he surely must have a family, friends, maybe a wife and kids.
Suddenly he looked less intimidating, more human than the writing-robot he appeared to be.
"One last question before I let you go," Castiel said. "Apart from your immediate family, parents and brother, do you have anyone you call friend? Or even family maybe?"
Dean hesitated, the question too close to that taboo topic again. He decided to tell the truth, avoiding just a tiny part. "Well there's Benny. He really got my back more times than I can count. And Captain Singer who's like this weird uncle you don't see often but you know he'll help you bury a body. Figuratively of course!"
"Or course," Castiel repeated as he scribbled on the notebook.
Dean waited patiently for Castiel to finish, looking around the office, which was absolutely immaculate.
That was the kind of office Dean imagined existing in New York, all very high-class and heavenly, where the smallest detail was thought about for month. Should the orchid sit like this or be turned 45° to the right? He just couldn't imagine Castiel doing all the work. It just didn't seem like his style. So someone had to do it. Which meant Castiel had to pay the person. Which meant he was freaking rich! So not only must he have a diploma from Heaven City with Honors (of course!), to do a God-knows-what job so complicated there isn't even a name for it, and he must be filthy rich.
Suddenly, Dean felt inadequate. Being the center of attention of such a person, being on his high horse and a dick last week, that didn't sit well with him.
He was being judged by someone who was not only successful in his life, but who was rich and had clean hands, all the opposite of what Dean was. How would someone like this judge Dean? Decide whether or not he was suited to go back to a civilian life?
Dean immediately realized where his thoughts were going and jumped to a conclusion. He was hopeless. No way in Hell he would get that damn paper signed. Embarrassed, he started fidgeting on his seat, wanting to leave as soon as possible.
Castiel must have sensed his change of heart. He gave Dean a questioning look. Dean remained silent.
"I guess we reached the end of today's session," Castiel said, getting the message. "We'll meet again next week."
"Sure!" Dean replied as he stood from his armchair. "See you next week!"
Before Castiel could add another word, Dean bolted out of the office, Benny following him shortly after.
(***)
Dean looked at Benny from the window of his apartment. They stashed him in what felt more like a small studio than a real apartment. His bed was one meter away from the kitchen corner. But that was enough for him.
His friend had just dropped by this Monday afternoon and was now on his way to work. Dean watched him cross the street, enter his car, then drive away. He clenched his fist. In his right hand, a small piece of paper with numbers written on it. Benny had tried to find a way to cheer him up and came up with this. Dean wasn't sure it would improve his mood but it would occupy him now that most administrative work was completed.
He walked to his bed and sat down. He gathered his thoughts and tried to remain as calm as possible while dialing the numbers on his cell phone.
As soon as he heard the dial tone, he felt his heart beat faster and stronger. He suddenly felt like it was a stupid idea and was about to hang up when he heard his voice.
"Hello?"
His mouth went dry, his hands sweaty. He hadn't heard that voice in over five years.
"Hello? Who's there?"
"Heya Sammy." He managed to articulate after clearing his throat.
Several seconds passed before Sam spoke again.
"Dean?"
"Yes."
"It's you? It's really you?"
"The one and only!" Dean laughed.
"Wow! That's just… wow! I…" Sam hesitated. "I wasn't expecting to hear from you ever again."
That hurts, Dean thought.
"Yeah…" he sighed. "I figured that much."
"Wait, I'm glad you're calling! Really!" Sam blurted out.
Dean started to regret the call. The conversation was so awkward. He should have thought about it before calling his brother, prepare his speech! But no, of course not, he was Dean freaking Winchester, acting on instinct, never thinking twice!
"You, err…" Sam continued. "Are you back in the US or still in Ukraine?"
"I thought she was Russian," Dean uttered with a laugh, jumping on jokes as if they were his life-jackets.
"So it was a lie!" Sam shouted. "There was no stripper, right?"
"Yeah, no stripper involved," Dean admitted. "You didn't believe it, did you?"
"Nah. That just wasn't you." Sam replied.
"Did Mom and Dad believe it?" Dean asked.
"Mom, no. She thought you got involved with bad people and had to run away for your safety."
"Haha, that's very James Bond!"
"Tell me about it!" Sam laughed.
Hearing his laugh immediately made Dean feel better. Slowly, he found his words, remembering what it was like to talk to his nerdy baby brother, how nice it felt. Damn he missed him!
"But Dad… that was something else. He was furious. But you can remember, he had moments like that…"
Dean nodded though Sam couldn't see him. "Yeah, yeah… I remember… I'm sorry."
"Hum… where are you now?"
"I'm… I'm good now!"
"Dean, that's… that's not what I asked."
"I know. I'll tell you everything soon, I promise."
"You better, jerk!"
Dean burst out laughing.
"Bitch!" he immediately countered. "And you?" he added once he calmed down. "How are you doing? How have you been? Tell me!"
"Well," Sam sighed. "There's a lot to tell, I don't even know where to start! You gotta be more specific, man."
"I don't know! You married or something?"
"Haha! No, not really. It's kinda out of question for now. But I was engaged for a while."
"Wow! Okay, big news! What happened?"
"It didn't work out. Jess and I were really young and after a while we realized we weren't meant to grow old together. So yeah… that's that. Now I'm seeing someone and things are looking good."
"That's really nice to hear, Sammy. I'm really happy for you!"
"Thanks Dean."
A few seconds passed without either of them talking.
"Hum, Dean? I'm sorry man but I have an important meeting coming up and-"
"No, yeah, sure," Dean cut him. "I understand! No worries! Go get 'em tiger!"
Sam scoffed, which made Dean smile. His mind was now filled of sweet childhood memories where he made his baby brother laugh, when they would do reckless things and then get scolded by their Mom.
"Can I call you back? The number is hidden but if you give me your mobile I can call you back later today."
"It's… I can't, I'm sorry. But I'll call you back soon! I promise! It's just… I… yeah… I can't."
"Alright…" Sam's voice came out colder, making Dean flinch. "Don't wait for another five years to call, then."
"I promise! I won't! I'll call you soon."
"Okay. Bye Dean."
"Take care, Sammy," he said before hanging up.
The call left him exhausted, happy and sad at the same time. He was thrilled to have talked with Sam again, hearing his voice after so long was everything he needed. However hearing that he got engaged, then broke up, that he had to deal with all this without Dean being there to help him through… he felt terrible. The mission had been his priority. He had to deal with whatever was on his plate, no strings attached, no family to worry about. When he had accepted to go undercover, the deal was that neither Captain Singer nor Benny would mention his family, ever. He had to play his part knowing his parents and Sam were safe. He knew very well he wouldn't be able to focus on the job if he worried about them. So he decided to live in a big lie where they were all well and perfectly fine without him in their lives. It worked perfectly for five years!
He let himself fall onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. Well, that was something he could discuss next Wednesday with not-a-Doctor Castiel Novak.
(***)
"How are you, Dean?" Castiel asked.
Dean had not paid really much attention to his voice, but now that he noticed, how could someone have such a growling voice? Was he even human? If his business didn't pan out, he really should consider phone sex. People would pay a bunch to listen to such a voice, Dean was sure of it.
"Dean?" Castiel repeated, slightly frowning.
"Uh yeah, good! I'm good," Dean replied hastily. "Really good actually."
"Did something happen?"
"Yes. Benny told me earlier today that I'm allowed to look for my own accommodation. I'll have my own apartment soon. I'm hoping next week or so. Then I can get my stuff back."
"I'm glad to hear it, Dean."
"To make it perfect, I'd just need a signature from you," Dean said, a smirk on his lips.
Castiel looked at him. When he saw Dean's smile, his features soften a little. Dean swore he saw a grin, but it disappeared almost immediately.
"You're almost there, Dean."
"I better hope so!" Dean laughed. "And there's something else."
"Yes?" Castiel asked, his full attention on Dean.
"I called my brother last Monday," he admitted.
For the first time, Dean witnessed a full-on smile from Castiel, teeth showing, the whole nine yards, which startled him a bit. He cleared his throat, trying to gather his thoughts.
"How did it go?" Castiel asked as Dean kept silent.
"It went good. Great actually. There was no scream or insult, which is a big win in my opinion."
Castiel nodded, encouraging Dean to continue.
"We talked a bit, not for long though. I will call him back, maybe next week."
"Maybe?" Castiel asked, his focus back on the notebook.
"Probably." Dean corrected. "Surely!" he finally said with assurance.
"Getting in touch with your family and friends will help you, Dean," Castiel commented. "Even if things don't work out the way you plan, you're moving forward which is important."
Dean scoffed. "If you say so."
"Will you contact your old friends anytime soon?"
"My friends? You mean the ones before the mission?"
Castiel nodded.
"No. My family comes first. I'll see how things go before making a move."
"What else happened this week?" Castiel asked, his face serious again.
Dean sighed. "Don't you think a lot happened already?" he joked. "But if you want to know, I already started looking for an apartment. I can't afford much but at least I'll settle for more than a week!"
"Did you move around a lot during your mission?"
"At the beginning, yes. But I managed to stay at one place for a while, which was nice… I guess." He answered, rubbing his palms on his thighs. "You know I cannot tell you much," he explained, "because of safety and such."
"Of course, Dean." Castiel replied. "Don't worry, I won't ask where you stayed or who you stayed with."
Dean frowned and was about to ask Castiel what he meant by this, but he managed to cut him off. "During your mission, did you make any friends?"
He hesitated a few seconds before answering. "I had to. For these people to trust me, I had to make myself valuable and trustworthy. It didn't happen overnight, you know? It took time."
"Anyone ever suspected you were part of the Police Force?"
Dean let out a loud laugh. "If anyone would've had suspicions, I'd be in a box six feet underground by now!"
"Of course." Castiel had an apologetic smile. "During your mission, did you ever had to act against your will?"
Dean frowned and kept silent. His hands stopped moving but remained on his thighs. He examined Castiel's face but saw nothing more than professional interest. He didn't seem judgmental either which would be a deal breaker for him.
"You have reports," he finally told Castiel. "I'm sure everything I ever did is clearly detailed in there."
Castiel shook his head. "I cannot tell you the content of the reports which were handed to me, but I can assure you that none of your emotions or thoughts were provided." He looked up to Dean. "It's as if you kept your thoughts personal…"
Dean glared at Castiel. "Was that…" he paused. "Was that a joke?" he wondered.
"Yes, Dean," he answered, smiling with a corner of his mouth. "Or rather a poor attempt at it."
"Well… not comedy gold, but better than last time!" Dean grinned. "Keep trying, you'll get there!"
Castiel chuckled. "Thank you, Dean."
"Might even happen before I get my damn paper signed!" Dean continued.
"Dean-" Castiel started with an eye roll before Dean interrupted him.
"Hey, if you can use sarcasm as comic relief, so can I!" he retorted.
Castiel chuckled, to Dean's surprise and possibly wonder. "Fair enough!" he regained his stern façade. "I still require an answer from you, Dean."
He nodded, all serious again. "It happened more than you can possibly imagine. I had to hurt people. Sometimes even kill. To maintain my cover, I had to show them I could do it." He looked down at the carpet. "Not my proudest moments," he added before staring at Castiel. "Can we change the subject?"
"Would you like to?"
"Yes," Dean immediately answered, his voice grave.
"Alright," Castiel replied. "What do you do to clear your head?"
"Wow, that's a radical change of direction!" he said, surprised.
Castiel gazed at Dean. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable. Well, more than I have to."
"Yeah, thanks!" Dean retorted sarcastically. He looked at Castiel, who did not seem amused. "Alright, usually I would watch a movie, a classic like Star Wars or Indiana Jones. Or go out to a bar, play some pool, grab a bite. Nothing fancy."
"Have you been able to do any of these activities since your mission ended?"
"No, didn't have time. I watch some TV shows back at the hideout. Do you know Dr. Sexy M.D.?"
"You already mentioned that show," Castiel replied. "But I am not familiar with it, I'm sorry. You really enjoy it?"
"I don't know…" Dean bowed his head a little. "It is compelling."
"Tell me more about it," Castiel asked, taking Dean aback.
"Really? I mean, are you sure? Is it part of the therapy?" Dean asked, hesitant.
"This is not a therapy, Dean. I am not a psychiatrist, nor a doctor," Castiel explained. "It's a discussion between you and me, which will allow me to better assess your reintegration in the Police Force and the civilian society."
"And that goes by talking about Dr. Sexy M.D.?" Dean wondered, a little sarcastically.
"As this show helps you relax, then yes."
Dean laughed, sitting a bit straighter. "Get ready, then!"
He explained, in great detail, the complicated relationships between the different characters and what made Dr. Sexy sexy. After ten minutes of monologue, Castiel finally interrupted him.
"I think I understood the main story line, thank you Dean."
"Wait, you should know about Dr. Piccolo's story!"
Castiel let out a small laugh. "For next week, then."
Dean smiled, nodding. "Alright!"
They shook hands, exchanged their goodbyes, then Dean left to find Benny who was waiting for him in the lobby in his usual seat. Before Dean could say anything, Benny looked at him, then smiled. Yeah, I'm that obvious, Dean thought.
(***)
Dean signed the last page of the lease and gave it back to the realtor. He thanked him, checked if the papers were in order, gave a copy back to Dean, and put the rest in his wallet. He shook Dean's hand and thanked him once again.
Once alone in his apartment, Dean took a look around, already planning how he would arrange the place with his furniture. He remembered he stored a bed, possibly some shelves, books and CDs for sure, but he couldn't think of anything else. Everything had been locked in a storage unit under a false identity and now he wasn't even sure what he'd find.
He would probably need Benny's help to move his stuff in the apartment. Benny would most likely swear a lot knowing Dean now lived on the fourth floor, but ultimately, he would agree and help.
Thankfully, the place was rather small. Only one bedroom, small but functional bathroom and kitchen, small living room, Dean would not spend a lot of time arranging. Just the necessities would suffice.
Now that he had completed his first important task of the week, he needed to complete the second one: getting his own personal mobile phone.
He locked the front door and pocketed his keys with a sense of accomplishment he hadn't felt in a long time. It was as if the train had left the station and for once he was on board, sitting next to the widow and enjoying the view. He definitely had to tell not-Doctor Castiel about his achievements!
Dean then hurried down the street until he reached a small electronics shop. He bought a burner phone he would use for the time being. Once everything was settled down, he would buy a better phone and coverage. But for now, it was enough.
He went to the nearest supermarket which was, luckily, only a few hundred meters away from his building. He bought the bare minimum: frozen pizza, cheese, chips and a six-pack. Once his shopping done, he headed back to his new home.
He put the pizza in the freezer, the beer and cheese in the fridge and the chips in the cupboard where, seeing all the dust, he realized he forgot to buy a sponge and cleaning products. But that could wait, he had another task he just couldn't wait to complete.
He took the phone out of its box, added the sim card, plugged the phone to recharge and sat down on the floor while searching for Sam's number. Once he found it, he dialed and put the phone on his ear. He didn't wait long before Sam answered.
"Heya Sammy!" he said cheerfully.
"Dean! You actually did call back!" Sam answered, a smile in his voice.
"Of course I did! How are you doing?"
"Good, good. And you?"
"Good! Excellent actually!" Dean answered, enthusiastic. He couldn't wait to tell Sam everything he went through, but it was a bit early. "I actually got my own place just… what… fifteen minutes ago?"
"Woah, you bought a house?!" Sam asked.
"What? No! I rent an apartment! How on earth will I find money to buy a house?" Dean laughed. "It's a small apartment, which I rent."
"Oh…" Sam sounded a bit disappointed. "Well, that's great Dean! Can you tell me more?"
Dean suddenly realized how silly he must sound to his brother after all this time. He did not know that getting his own place was a big achievement. He decided to steer the conversation to the important topic he wanted to discuss with Sam.
"Yeah! It's not big…. Small actually. But I'm sure my little brother would fit in!"
Sam kept silent for a few seconds before managing to articulate "Errrr… okay?"
Immediately, Dean felt a knot in his stomach. "Too soon?" Dean asked, worried about the rejection that would inevitably follow.
"Yeah… no… I mean, I don't even have your phone number and-"
"I have one!" Dean interrupted "You have the caller ID option? Do you see a number?"
"Huh… let me check…" Dean heard some rubbing. "Okay, got it." Sam said.
"Great! That's my phone number for now. It will probably change in a few weeks, but you can always call me."
"Alright, thanks Dean. But I don't even know where you live?"
"Chicago. But if that's too far for you, I can come down and see you? What'd'ya say? You're still in Stanford, right?"
"San Jose actually, but… are you sure it's a good idea? I mean, we can talk over the phone and see how things go?"
Dean sighed. "Look, I'm trying real hard here."
He inadvertently banged the back of his head on the wall. He swore between his teeth. "Look Sammy, I want to see you and… and tell you everything that happened, but I can't do it over the phone. It'll take too long and… come on, it's been five years! Can you blame me to want to see my little brother?"
"Dean, it's… I have a life here. I cannot just take off and leave everything behind."
"Just for a few days!" Dean begged. "A weekend! And you know what? Why don't you bring your special someone with you, so you won't feel alone in case you punch me in the face and run back to San Jose?"
"Why would I punch you in the face?"
"Come on! Hypothetically!"
Sam let out a long sigh. "I'll see what I can do. But I'll come alone. I don't think it's a good time to introduce you to… well, it's a bit early."
"In case I disappear for another five years, is that what you mean?" Dean asked. Sam did not answer and Dean clearly understood what it meant. "Yeah, I can't blame you," he conceded. "How soon can you come? No pressure or anything!"
"Yeah, of course. I don't know… maybe in two weeks? I'll try to take my Monday off and catch a red eye flight."
"That'd be great!" Dean felt happier than ever. "That'd be freaking awesome! Just let me know and I'll pick you up at the airport! And I'll get a nice comfy couch for you! I'll make sure you feel at home!"
Sam laughed. "Since when have you become a perfect little housewife?"
"Hey, don't laugh! I can cook a mean burger if you wanna try!" Dean teased.
"Sure, why not!"
"Awesome! Hey err… Sammy? One other thing. Did you tell Mom and Dad I called you?"
Sam went silent. "No, I haven't," he finally admitted. "I wasn't sure if you wanted to call them or anything… so I suppose you haven't told them anything?"
"No, not yet. I was kinda counting on you?"
"Dean… that, I can't. You have no idea how difficult these years were. I mean… Mom regularly checked for John Does at the morgue."
"She-what now?" Dean couldn't believe his ears.
"Yeah… that's how screwed up that made us. After a while, the guy at the morgue in Lawrence only called Mom when he got a body matching your description."
"Wow… that's…"
"Yes Dean," Sam continued, his tone hard. "Like I said, these years were difficult for us."
"I'm sorry, Sam. I really am…"
"I'm sure you are." The sarcasm leaked out of Sam's voice, making Dean extremely nervous.
"I didn't think I would hurt you so bad…"
"You didn't THINK?" Sam shouted. "Jeez Dean, disappearing for five years, I wonder what you thought about! Certainly not your own damn family, that's for sure!"
When Sam stopped shouting, Dean could only hear ragged breathing. He suddenly felt terribly guilty and stupid. How could he even think that his relationship with Sam would be so easily repaired? That he would forgive him in the blink of an eye? Of course not. Dean needed to make amends and take responsibility for his actions. He hurt the ones he loved most.
"I'm sorry…" was all he could say.
Silence fell between them. Thick and heavy. No one talked for long seconds until Dean finally broke down. "I really am, Sammy. You have all the rights to be angry at me. But I promise, I'll fix this."
"Whatever, Dean…" Sam replied in a low voice.
"Will you still try to come over?" he asked. "I know I'm asking a lot, but just this once, take a leap of faith and let's meet! Can you do that?"
He heard his brother sigh. "I'll try. I'll let you know, okay?"
"Yeah! Great! Thank you Sammy!"
"Do you really have to call me that? Sammy is a chubby twelve year old. I'm twenty-seven now."
"Old habits die hard!" Dean answered, a bit more cheerful than what he really felt.
"Riiight… Okay Dean, I gotta go. I'll let you know," he repeated. "Bye Dean."
"Bye Sammy."
The line went silent.
Dean ran a hand through his short blond hair. He felt nauseous. He really had miscalculated the risks his absence would cause to his own family. He had been so damn sure they would have been better off him.
How could he have possibly have known it would have been difficult for them? After all, Sam was the genius of the family, the better and smarter sibling. His Dad, John Winchester, had make it very clear he was disappointed in Dean when he told them he would join the Police Force. John thought only useless people would enroll. Many times he tried to persuade Dean to choose a different path, like joining the Army, or working at the garage with him, or even try engineering.
But Dean had made his choice and wanted to make his parents proud. He worked his ass off in the Academy, got the best scores, which led to him being noticed by the Captain of the precinct he was to integrate.
At that time, he thought that Sam would accomplish everything their parents ever dreamed of, he would make them proud in a way Dean knew he never could.
And now…
He banged his head against the wall until it hurt so badly he had to stop. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" he kept on repeating.
He held his phone at eye level. He wanted to call the not-Doctor and tell him everything that had happened, but he did not have his phone number. He would have to wait until next Wednesday and surely marinate in a stew of self-pity.
He thought that maybe he should go out and get drunk.
Instead, he got up, took a beer from the fridge, sat back down at the same place, opened the bottle and starting drinking, eyes fixed on the wall in front of him.