Author's Note: The title is inspired by the words that begin any Sir David Attenborough impression (at least mine anyway), "And here, we see..."

And Here, We See...

Humans, for all their talk of connections—a digital network of data transferred by satellite around the globe means that anyone can communicate with anyone else at any time—don't often notice things. And now that Castiel has spent some time as a human, he thinks he understands why. They're always busy concentrating on everyday tasks—where will I locate my next meal? How will I travel between points A and B? And, of course, I need to urinate now. Castiel understands now; doesn't hold it against them.

So the humans don't notice when Castiel steps into the bar—stops—takes in the dark red paint on the walls poking out from behind picture frames, the paintings depicting local scenes with deliberate brush strokes; and the carpet, a bright red and deep green design of rhombuses with vines wrapped around them, and the wooden chairs painted with a dark varnish that matches the tables.

One of the humans does look up at him—an exception—but only because her table is the one nearest the door and she's facing him. He's blocking her view of the door she had previously been staring at with a blank expression. She only spares Castiel one short glance before returning to her bowl of stir-fried noodles, digging the fork in with one hand and tapping on her cell phone with her other—the screen's backlight a bright spot in an otherwise dimly lit room.

The humans do notice—lift their heads from their burgers and their noodles and their pizzas—when twenty-three other angels crowd in after Castiel. He moves forward so each of his followers can clear the doorway. The man behind the bar is frowning suspiciously at them, fingering the cloth draped over his shoulder. But after a moment of blatant staring at Castiel and his followers, he relaxes and returns to serving his customers.

The silence that had briefly fallen amongst the humans when Castiel's followers had filed in ceases as they begin to talk amongst themselves again. It doesn't take Castiel long to spot the human he was hoping to find here. Dean, too busy conversing with a woman wearing skin-tight pants and high heels to be aware of much else, sits at a part of the bar's counter that's close to a set of doors. The bar turns in a sharp right-angle just behind Dean's elbow. The corner offers a modicum of privacy for those who wish for it.

One of his followers, Jenael, extracts herself from the group of tightly-bunched angels and approaches Castiel's right shoulder. "Is that him? The Righteous Man?" she asks, following Castiel's gaze.

Castiel nods and fails to keep the hint of pride out of his voice. "That is Dean Winchester. I will demonstrate for you the human greeting rituals." With that Castiel weaves his way around tables as he makes his way over to the bar.

Dean, with his back to most of the room, doesn't notice Castiel approach. He does, however, notice when Castiel wraps him up in a big hug. Castiel makes eye contact with his followers who are watching with rapt attention—Hannah, ever the organiser, is taking down notes. Dean takes his hand off the gun tucked into his waistband and awkwardly pats Castiel on the back.

"Er... hi, Cas."

"Hello, Dean."

Dean starts to squirm on his barstool, a signal that either he needs to urinate now or that Castiel's hug of greeting has lasted too long. He withdraws and takes a step back to give Dean some of the 'personal space' he's always talking about. Castiel hopes that this is the correct distance, and makes a mental reminder that he should probably have a notebook for this sort of thing.

The woman that was previously talking to Dean looks Castiel up and down like he's just walked into her territory. She looks at Dean. Then she tucks a lock of red hair behind her hear and slinks off, shaking her head slightly and muttering, "I should've known."

Dean watches her go, then slumps with a sigh and finishes his drink. "What are you doin' here, Cas?"

Castiel gestures at his huddled group of followers. Dean twists around on his stool to see them. Hannah's too busy scribbling notes, but Jenael gives him a shy little wave. "My followers have been showing an increased interest in the humans they are sworn to protect and wanted to learn more about them," he explains. "I brought them here to learn about humanity from a good human."

Dean raises an eyebrow. With a shrug he follows Castiel over to the group of angels. Some of them appear star struck. When the staring becomes uncomfortable for him, he digs his hands into his pockets. "I'm Dean," he says with a nod and half-smile. A pause; then, "You guys wanna learn about humans, huh? That's good, I guess..." He clears his throat.

Since they are staring at him Dean decides to stare at the angels; Castiel watches from a distance, knowing that Dean will be able to handle any questions put forth to him. The questions are all asked at once.

"Why do humans produce currency?"

"How do I wash my vessel's clothing?"

"How do you feel about gas?" one of the angels pipes up, slightly louder than the others. Humans on nearby tables look up.

Dean blinks. "It's... uh... somethin' you should ask my brother about, really." He turns to Castiel and gives him a nudge with his elbow. "Yeah, that's a thing—why are you here askin' stuff to me and not to Sammy? He'll love answering all their questions about humanity, the big geek." He pats Castiel none-too-gently on the shoulder until he takes a step towards the door. His smile becomes mischievous. "Go on, Cas," he urges. "We're staying at the motel at the other end of the block, Room 05." He addresses Castiel's followers. "You guys will learn everything you need to know from my little bro. Toodles!"

With a last glance at Dean—Dean's grin only grows wider and he gives Castiel a cheery little wave—Castiel leads his followers out of the bar. As the angels are filtering out, Dean notices Tomariel, his vessel that of a keen naturist, and calls out to him, "Dude, Sammy will love you."

THE END