This area of the city was rather dismal. Buildings hardly stood upright, crumbling due to the multiple infestations they must have endured through their long lives. Bundles covered by heavy fabric lay unmoving near walls, unidentifiable as either bodies or sleeping unfortunates. Shattered glass reflected sharp white light, incoming from the nearly full moon. Cigarette butts littered the streets, punctuated by the occasional odd object -bullet shells, papers, plastic bags. There had not been a nicer night all week.
Because the ghettos would always be in as terrible a state as its citizens, but at least tonight the moon lit the night and the rain had finally stopped. All week it had been raining. Castiel liked to think that this symbolized something. A clear night meant new opportunities for his friends and himself, the rain meant that their problems had all been washed away. If only.
Only an hour ago, Alfie had called him. The young man's voice had been weak and shaking. He had called from a hospital room. A job flipping burgers at McDonald's was not nearly enough to pay the bill.
So, twenty-four hours after he had finished paying Hael's more… questionable expenses, Castiel was, once again, picking up extra shifts with the city's public transportation. There was only so much money he could make for his friends. Busses would not begin running until 5:30am, and only stopped at 1:30. Besides, Castiel was always at the homeless shelter for at least nine hours a day. After paying for his own food and rent, eleven hours of minimum wage work only added up to so much.
For Hael, for Alfie, and for his brothers and sisters, he was here; driving a beaten bus at 1:00am in the worst part of town. If Castiel thought about it the right way (in terms of lives he was saving instead of the hours of sleep he was missing out on), the bus driver did not mind too much. And besides, he got to meet so many interesting people.
Or, maybe meet was not the right word. He had seen teenagers in costume, high school debate teams, artists carrying their paintings, and athletes with backpacks and baseball bats. All of them had better things to do than to talk to Castiel. And, past midnight, Castiel did not have the screaming urge to talk to the two people on his bus either.
The boy in the back looked alone. Earbuds snaked their way underneath a dark blue hoodie while his jeans were more ripped than any decent pair should be. His left hand rested on a small backpack besides him and his dark eyes never left the window. The woman near the middle had mid-length brown hair and pasty skin, as if she had never seen a day of sunlight. She constantly yawned, and her green nametag was still pinned to her bust. Her eyes were closed. She was sleeping.
These rides were usually faster, with little traffic and few passengers waiting at stops. Castiel would have to wake her up when he finished the loop.
The light was green, but Castiel stopped at the corner and opened the door. The boy looked up. The woman did not. A man stood dark, erect, waiting. His journey up the steps was not slow, but he moved with purpose. His dirty blond hair was cropped and combed to the front, and he looked abnormally good in plaid and jeans. The man's cheekbones and square jaw made in difficult not to stare.
Castiel looked away once the man had run his fare card, only watching the front mirror to see where the man decided to take his seat (in the very front so that it was almost torturous for Castiel to keep from turning his head).
In the next few minutes, Castiel managed to leave the neighborhood, and the woman's phone rang, some reminder telling her it was almost time to get off, he assumed, because she soon called for a stop and was gone.
An amazing excuse to look towards his newest passenger's seat while the woman thanked him, Castiel observed the man. Attractive even when frowning; now that was not fair in the slightest. The man glared at the street signs through the window, sitting as straight and stoic as a line. Castiel forced his eyes back to the road and released the brake pedal.
A quick glance at his dashboard clock confirmed that it was 1:27am when Castiel finished his route. He left the bus parked in the garage, watching the boy gather his backpack and leave. The new man did not move.
"Friend," Castiel began when the man in the red plaid remained, frown marring his face, staring out the window, "This is the end of the route. You have to get off," Did he have somewhere to go? He had to be on the bus for a reason, with a destination. Had he been in financial trouble, he would not have spent the money on his fare card.
"This was the wrong bus." The man shook his head, narrowing his eyes as he viewed the garage. "Are we close to Vlonling?"
"It's across town…" Castiel shook his head. "You should have taken East, not West. Did you not see the route on the front?" The bus driver nodded towards the electronic, ever-changing letter above the front window, stating the route number and last stop.
"I was in a hurry." The man said simply, looking at his watch as if trying to prove a point. "You know when the next bus leaves for East?" The man looked around, there were no new vehicles arriving in the garage. To Castiel, it seemed obvious that public transport had finished for the night.
"Busses don't start again for another four hours." Castiel answered. "You should rent a hotel room. The city isn't safe this time of night."
"Can't. My little brother's at home. I need to be back before he realizes I'm gone."
Castiel shook his head. There was nothing the man could do. But here he was, asking for help, obviously worried for his younger brother. How could Castiel say no?
"Look, I live in Mando. If you need help, maybe I could give you a ride?" Mando was relatively close to Vlonling. It was no more than a fifteen minute drive from the furthest part of the district to Castiel's own neighborhood and would not pose too much of a problem.
The man worried at his bottom lip for a moment before nodding. Castiel obviously wasn't the only one hesitant about riding with a perfect stranger.
"Sure. Thanks." The man said.
Castiel turned around to make his way up the elevator and towards his own vehicle. The man followed a couple of feet behind him.
"I am Castiel," he said, glancing back over his shoulder, "If you're going to be riding in my car, i thought you should know."
"Dean," came the gruff reply. It was followed by no last name.
Castiel shrugged. "It's nice to meet you, Dean."
"You too," Dean said, as they arrived at the beaten, white Yugo. He gestured towards the car. "I didn't think they made these anymore."
"They don't. I got it secondhand, but it's more affordable than any car on the market these days," Castiel answered, opening the door and seating himself in front of the wheel. He thought he heard Dean muttering something about a "tin can on wheels" while the man seated himself.
Castiel didn't mind. He had bought his car for cost efficiency, not impression. He shifted the manual gear into drive and pressed a foot to the pedal, pulling out of the driveway with ease. It was nice when there were no cars on the road.
Usually, Castiel would have listened to the news to pass the time. However, he was more concerned now with treating his guest well than knowing everything that was going on in the small world he called his own.
"So, your brother;" Castiel started, "how old is he?"
Dean, sprawled out comfortably in the passenger's seat, glared at Castiel suspiciously from the corner of his eye. "He's fifteen. Why?"
"I was wondering," Castiel's answered. "I've never really had any siblings. It must be nice." This was small talk and they both knew it. Neither would do anything to make the conversation deeper.
"It is. His name is Sam. And if anybody -anybody" -Castiel risked a glance from the road to see Dean glaring at him- "even thinks about touching my little brother, I will personally see that every inch of his skin is flayed from his body piece by piece."
The car fell into silence, the threat not lost on Castiel. The driver rolled down his window crank. The weather was unusually nice, and he intended to take full advantage of that while he could.
"You should become a writer." Castiel wondered if there had ever been a more stupid way to end a long silence. Dean raised an eyebrow, "It's just- you used really detailed wording there. Maybe you could become a public speaker, though. You're good at stressing words. You seem passionate."
Dean turned in his seat, simply staring incredulously at Castiel. Then he chuckled. And even though it was not a complete laugh, Dean had not so much as smirked before. So, Castiel could not help the half-smile that stretched across his own face.
"Maybe you're right," Dean said, still grinning. "Make a left up here. Look for building 1443."
Castiel followed instructions as he was given them. Although the building addresses were dimly lit, he could only just make out Dean's building by squinting.
He stopped the car in front of it, and Dean opened the door. He pulled something out from his back pocket before leaving. A wallet.
"Thanks for the ride, Cas. I'll see you around sometime." With that, the man passed a twenty dollar bill towards the driver's seat. Castiel did not take it.
"Thank you, Dean, but I don't need your money. This was a favor, I was not selling you a ride." Castiel shook his head. Dean did not retract the arm.
"Call it gas money then. I don't care. It's just my way of saying thank you. And don't forget that you're a bus driver. Let's not pretend that you couldn't use some extra cash."
"I don't need any-" Before Castiel could finish, Dean had rolled his eyes, dropped the money, and left, slamming the door behind him.