The message was short. Dean listened to it again, the line was terrible, but it was definitely Cas. He could hear traffic in the background. " Hi Dean, it's ^~^~^~^. I was hoping ~^~^~^~ your help with ~^~^~^. I understand if you're too busy, but ~~^~^~^ only one I can ask. So…"

He could hear another voice in the background, "Steve, the grease drain's backing up again."

Cas' voice was muffled, as if he had his hand over the receiver, "OK, I'm just coming^~^~^~"

The gravelly voice returned to full strength as the line cleared, "~^^~^ gotta go Dean, but please, if you can, come before Saturday, after that, it will be too late."

Dean clicked his phone shut, and grabbed his keys. "Kevin," he called, "when Sammy gets back, tell him I gotta go see Cas."

Kevin appeared in the doorway, carrying a pile of books and papers. "A case?"

"I don't know," Dean said, "but it sounded urgent. I'll call from the road."

"Shouldn't you wait for Sam?"

Dean pursed his lips, waiting for a convincing excuse to leave Sam, and more importantly, Zeke, in the bunker to form in his mind. "Nah, it didn't sound so bad, and even on lock down I don't like leaving you here alone with Crowley."

Kevin shrugged, already partially engrossed in his papers.

It was late when Dean guided the shining black Impala to a halt under the street lamps. He glanced across the road to the Gas n Sip. The neon open sign reflected in damp puddles on the black asphalt and a steady drizzle of rain smelt damp in the air, as Dean slammed the door behind him, and made his way towards the entrance.

The inside smelt of coffee and disinfectant. Hot dogs turned on the automated grill, rolling steadily over the metal, sizzling faintly. The only other sound was his own feet tapping quietly on the white tiled floor. There was no sign of anyone at the tills. Dean paused listening hard, he heard the vaguest hint of human conversation from somewhere out past the counter, where the bathroom was. He grinned at the memory of Cas' insistence that he clean it, last time he was here. He began to move stealthily towards the back of the counter, hand flexing ready to grab the blade in his waistband.

It was only as he got closer that he realised that the 'conversation' he could hear was actually hot and heavy. "So, yes, oh yes… so you're dumping Chloe…hmmm, oh there…" the girl's voice was soft, her words interrupted by moans and the sounds of kissing.

"I promise," the boy's voice was equally breathy, "Ahhh, as soon as we get past Valentines…she's ahhhh history…"

Dean smirked and moistened his lips, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Hello, service," he shouted loudly, enjoying the panic this had caused judging by the sudden scuffling he could hear. A teenage girl appeared somewhat rapidly tucking her shirt back into the neat skirt under her blue vest.

"Can I help," she said, blushing.

"I was looking for Steve," he said, eyes crinkling into a half smile. "I'm a … friend of his."

"It's his night off," she whined a little sulkily, obviously resentful that she was here at all. Dean held the silence looking at her expectantly, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head in question. She sighed exaggeratedly, "He'll be at home, he never goes anywhere, he just wastes his time off." The teenage derision of the dullness of an adult's life was live in her whiny voice.

"Thanks," he said a touch sarcastically, "Might wanna re-button your blouse, using all the buttons this time."

Dean sang softly to himself as he drove through the quiet town streets. Tapping the wheel gently in time to the golden oldies on the local radio station. "Cupid, draw back your bo-ow…and let your arrows go-o…straight to my lover's heart for me-e-e-e." He ducked his head, looking for Cas' place. The houses were old and run down, he grimaced slightly, the guilt of forcing Cas out of the bunker playing on his mind.

He parked baby, and pushed open the rickety gate, strolling up the path. It was the only garden in the street, which looked even vaguely cared for. The grass was cut, and the path swept. A slither of silvery light spilt between the curtains and fell in a gentle line across the grass.

He paused before he knocked, he could see Cas' dark head, hanging forward slightly. The flickering light of a television was throwing shadows across the curtains. He edged along the porch and strained to see further into the room. It appeared Cas was alone, and sleeping in front of the TV. Dean sighed, at the heart breaking, lonely, normality of it.

He knocked at the door, and waited patiently, the drizzle settling on his hair and shoulders in a fine mist.

The lock clicked, a chain rattled and then two bright blue eyes blinked at him, slightly blurry with sleep, through the screen door. Cas' face split into a broad welcoming grin, and the familiar voice said, "Hello Dean." He dropped his arm, and swung it back expansively, inviting Dean into his lounge. Dean took it in with a sweeping glance, it was threadbare but clean. The couch was sagged and old. A white washed table and chairs stood in the ancient kitchenette, the only other furniture was an ancient looking TV. Dean noticed with interest John Wayne's familiar gait and stance on the screen. He smiled appreciatively, Cas was watching Westerns.

"You called," He stated simply.

"Can I get you a beer?" the gravelly voice sounded tight as if Cas were nervous about something.

Dean swallowed and nodded. "That would be cool, Cas," he said softly. "Care to tell me what's up. Only you said it was urgent, but now I'm here it all seems remarkably quiet."

The fridge light silhouetted the slight figure as Cas passed him a beer, and took a large swig of the bottle he had opened for himself. His eyes darted about the room. Dean had not seen him look this anxious since they had been in the brothel the night before they trapped Raphael. He dropped down onto the sagging sofa, knees bunching awkwardly high until he allowed himself to sprawl.

"'Sup Cas," he said encouragingly, relaxing back into the cushions, long arm extending along the back.

"Er, well… Dean… you know when I said you'd make a great teacher…" Cas perched next to him on the remaining seat, turning slightly to face him.

"Yes, Cas,"

"Well, I… er… I … wanted to ask you a favour, but I'm not sure it's… erm…"

"Spit it out, Cas, I'd like to find out before the next apocalypse." Cas' brow wrinkled in confusion, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Dean snapped, "the favour, Cas, what's the favour?"

"Well, you know I told you my time with April was very… educational, well up until she tortured and killed me." Dean nodded, grimacing at the memory. "… and my date with Nora, well," Cas blushed at the memory, "it wasn't a date, as you know. And I wasn't a very good babysitter, either, not really…"

Dean let his head fall back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. He was tired from driving and beginning to wonder where the hell this was going. He pulled his head back when Cas dried up. Cas was picking nervously at the bottle label, turning the bottle repeatedly in his hands. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. Cas knew that look, it was a sure sign that Dean was getting impatient with him. He swallowed and blurted awkwardly, "I need a Valentine."

Dean's head dipped slightly in a double take as his hand dropped away. "Come again?"

Cas squared himself, and repeated more firmly, "I need a Valentine. It's a human tradition, and if I'm going to be properly human, I need to experience things, and I..."

"Cas, buddy, you called me all the way down here, so I could be your pimp?" Dean's voice was amused, in spite of his tiredness.

Cas closed his mouth abruptly, taking on board this slightly unwelcome idea, his head darting back slightly, eyes blinking rapidly, as he too recalled the fiasco in the brothel. "No," he said slowly, eyes darting back and forth trying to read Dean's expression. He continued quietly, "I was hoping you would… er… that you would…be… that you would…er…"

Dean swallowed, his face incredulous, as he began to understand what Cas was asking him to do. "You want me to be your Valentine?"

They stared at each other. Cas, looking suddenly anxious and very intent. Dean rolling his teeth over his lip, thinking. His soft tongue darting along the line of the plump lips as subconsciously he moistened them. "You do get the point of Valentine's, right Cas?"

Cas bit his lip, his cheeks flushing a deep crimson as he looked up at him shyly. "Yes, Dean..." The look in his eyes changed, and his breathing shortened slightly, his pupils dilating in the flickering light from the TV, as he held Dean's gaze, "…I do."