When They Think of Me (They Think of You)

By: TheFifthCharmedOne

Disclaimer: I own nothing, Supernatural is just a show that made me catch feelings.

Summary: 1,460 days later and Cas still has feelings for Dean. He's tried to date other people, many others, but none of them have ever made him feel the way Dean did. When his sister convinces him to move back to Lawrence, he never expects to see Dean again. He is sorely mistaken. Contains UST (lots of it) and man-pain. Also, Sabriel, and Charlie/Anna.

Chapter One: The Car Whisperer

Dean Winchester was a man of many things.

He was a good son, a devoted brother, a talented mechanic, a college dropout, a pie-lover, and, much to the chagrin of the entire female population of Lawrence, a bachelor.

Standing at 6'1, Dean had broad shoulders, sculpted arms, a bit of a bow-leg, and a handsome face. His tawny blond hair was cut short in an Ivy-League style, which only served to accent his bright green eyes and smattering of freckles across his cheekbones.

He wiped at the oil on his hands when the gruff voice of his boss and godfather, Bobby Singer, echoed out from the back office.

"Dean, before you head out," Bobby walked closer so his voice became quieter as he neared. "I want to show you somethin'."

Bobby wears a trucker's hat and supports a full chocolate colored beard with bits of gray along the edges. His eyes are kind and wise, and he loves his family with a passion. Normally, he wears jeans, a flannel shirt, and a vest on top of that. However, because of the sticky Kansas summer creeping in, he'd abandoned the flannel for a stained Sioux Falls, South Dakota t-shirt.

Bobby walked around the side of the garage, and, curious, Dean follows the old man.

Singer Auto is a scrapyard, a state-registered inspection agency, a car garage for run of the mill issues, and where Bobby lived with his wife Ellen and stepdaughter, Jo.

Bobby grunted as he squatted to open the single garage where he usually kept his private projects. His bare arms flexed with the weight, so Dean squatted down beside him and pushed the door up easily.

"Shaddup ya idjit." Bobby said in response, which, Dean supposed, was the closest he would ever get to a thank you.

When Dean's eyes landed on the dusty but unmistakable sleek black car, his stomach dropped.

"Is that…?" His voice died somewhere in the middle of the sentence as he took in the 1967 Chevrolet Impala.

His dad's prized possession.

The first car Dean had ever loved.

The car he had learned to drive in.

The car he had taught Sammy to drive in.

The car that had Sam's army man crammed into the ashtray.

The car where Dean had shoved Legos into the vents to see what would happen.

The car that…that he had lost his virginity in.

Blue eyes so dark with desire they were almost black, pupils dilated and fixed on him…

"Please…Dean…"

"He left it to ya." Bobby said, referring to Dean's father. "You and your brother, but Sam's got as much interest in cars as you do in law so I figure that was more of a obligatory thing."

Dean's throat feels like damp sand; dry and wet at the same time in the worst way. "I think you oughta fix her up. Get her drivable again. She's a car that deserves to be on the road, and since I'm getting old, I can't dedicate the time."

"Bobby…I-I can't." Dean says, speaking around the baseball sized lump in his throat. "I just…can't. I'm sorry."

Dean takes off in a run and ignores Bobby as he shouts his name.

Dean climbs onto his motorcycle; "Baby 2", and drives off without grabbing his pay stub.

The familiar burned out and flickering lights of the Roadhouse are a comfort and a curse as Dean walks into the bar. Warmth and the casual cacophony of conversation simultaneously relax and unnerve him.

It's a relatively small hall, with a large bar being the central focus. To the left are some pool tables and toward the center and back are tables where local Lawrence residents share a cold one and war stories. It's owned and operated by Bobby's wife Ellen; it was founded and named in honor of Ellen's first husband Bill, who'd died in an accident when Jo was still a child.

Dean makes his way over to the bar and signals for Jo to bring him his usual – a coke with Red Bull.

547 days.

547 days without a drop of liquor. That's also the amount of days since John Winchester's liver crapped out, but he pretends not to notice the correlation.

Jo slides the glass down the bar and Dean catches it easily, taking a long swig. He can almost taste the whiskey he used to have her sneak in when he was trying to convince Sammy he was sober.

Almost.

Seeing the Impala and awakened emotions in Dean he'd long since buried. Memories. Sensations. Things he told himself hadn't been real.

"Hey."

Sam, his kid brother, was very real. Dean took a swig of his drink and then raised the half empty glass in greeting. Sam was 22 to Dean's 26, just old enough to get into the bar without alerting local authorities. Though, in retrospect, he'd passed for 21 well before he actually reached the age. Damned recessive tall genes.

Sam was tall, gargantuan in fact. Standing at 6'4, Dean had always secretly envied his growth spurt, which was a secret he'd take to his grave thank you very much. Sam's hair was almost shoulder length and russet colored, with eyes that changed from brown to green depending on his mood. His shoulders and arms were also thick with muscle.

Jessica Moore, Sam's roommate and ex-fiancé, offered Dean a smile and a wave as she jumped over the barstools and slid her butt across the bar to the opposite side. Jess was a woman of many talents, one of them being pissing off Ellen.

"Get your ass off my bar!" Ellen came in from the kitchen holding dish towel. Jess jumped down and grinned at the brown-haired woman. Ellen glowered but said nothing else.

"I swear, one of these days, you're going to get fired and I'm not going to stand up for you." Jo said to Jess.

At first glance, Jess and Jo could be related. Perhaps not sisters, their facial structure was too different, but definitely cousins. They both had flaxen colored hair and pretty features, though Jo tended to have more of a temper than her counterpart. Currently they were wearing their Harvelle's uniforms; khaki pants and black t-shirts with the bar's name silk screened across the chest.

"Some best friend you are." Jess said, sticking her tongue out at Jo, who rolled her eyes.

Dean watched the exchange with a sort of glazed expression, his mind back on the Impala. How could Bobby expect him to go near the thing? With all the memories attached to it…no. Never again.

"So, Dean." Sam began, and Dean held back a groan. Sam only began his sentences like that when his follow-up statement was going to be particularly annoying. "Have you thought about applying for the mechanical engineering program?"

"Nope." Dean said, popping the p. "Don't need too cause I ain't going."

"Aw come on Dean, it'd be perfect for you!" Sam whined. "I know everything that happened with Cas really screwed you up-"

Dean slammed down his glass, the ice jumping up and back down with a clatter.

"I said no, Sam." Dean ground out. "Now let it go."

"Joanna Beth Harvelle, get your butt in the kitchen now!" Ellen shouted, and Jo winced.

"Uh oh, someone's in trouble," Jess sang. Jo flipped her off and went into the kitchen, where an argument ensued. Jess, ever the gossip, followed a few minutes later.

"I can't believe you went on and sent an application without even talking to me about it first!" Ellen cried. "It's one thing to mention in passing, but it's a whole other to actually go through with it!"

"I talked to Bobby about it!" Jo said defensively.

"Bobby is your stepfather, Joanna, but I am your mother and these kinds of things need to be discussed in detail before you do something you can't take back!"

"Stop acting like sending a college application is a crime!" Jo's voice rose. "God, it's not like you found a stash of weed of something."

"I would prefer you smoked weed rather than went off to some city over 1,000 miles away!"

"So you want me to stay trapped here instead of pursue my dreams?! What would Dad say?"

Ellen fell silent, and Jo took this moment to storm out to the bar in a huff. Jess followed, not wanting to face Ellen's wrath.

A few moments later, Jo and Jess's eyes fell on Dean. He was the picture of a kicked puppy, with hunched shoulders and a moody expression.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Jess asked Jo, who smiled mischievously, argument with her mother completely forgotten.

"Set him up with that brunette that's been eyeing him all night?" Jo answered, and Jess grinned.

"I knew we were best friends for a reason."

"Hi." The woman that approached Dean is conventionally attractive, and completely unfamiliar. In a town like Lawrence, everyone knew everyone, so strangers were hard to come by.

"Hi," Dean said, motioning to Jo for another drink.

"I'll take care of it," The woman crooned. "Tequila or scotch? I'm Lisa by the way."

"Neither. I'm 547 days sober." Dean answered. "I'm Dean, and not interested." Dean stood up with his drink in hand and went over to the pool tables, where Ash, the resident genius turned hippie, and some other guys were gambling.

Lisa's ruby red lips formed a perfectly shocked 'o' shape. She looked between Dean and the two bartenders, who'd been trying and failing not to eavesdrop. Lisa made a frustrated noise and stomped over to her group of girls, who collected her and told her how beautiful she was.

"Anyone want some real competition?" Dean asked the group of guys. He recognized Ash, Garth, and Rufus, but the fourth man was yet another stranger.

"Depends on if you can deliver," the fourth man said with a wicked smirk. He had honey gold hair and hazel colored eyes, and a certain trickster air around him that Dean approached warily but respectfully.

"The Roadhouse is full of new people tonight," Dean commented. "But sure, I'll bite."

"Name's Gabriel." The man said. "How much we bettin'?"

The next morning, Dean rolled up to Singer Auto and parked Baby 2 in her usual spot. If Bobby was upset with Dean for his behavior yesterday, he didn't show it.

"Got a newcomer today," Bobby said by way of greeting. "A '78 Continental Mark V."

"And the owner wears a top hat and uses a cane, right?" Dean joked.

"Not quite." A new voice said, and a woman with long red hair and hazel eyes, similar to the stranger Dean had played pool with last night. "She refuses to start, and we can't figure out why since we haven't had her that long." The woman cocked her head, looking Dean up and down as she did. "Word on the street is that you're some sort of car whisperer, so I figured I'd bring her here."

"I wonder who started that rumor," Dean said with an eyeroll. Bobby put his hands up in a placating gesture.

"Wasn't me. Now are you going to keep the lady waitin'?"

Dean sighed and shook his head.

"Let's have a look."

Climbing into the driver's seat was akin to time travel. Worn leather pressed against his spine and backside. His right foot migrated toward the brake pedal, and the distance indicated the car's owner probably wasn't much shorter than Dean. The car even smelled old, though that could be must and mold from years of improper care. The woman dropped the keys in Dean's outstretched hand.

"Mind if I watch you work?" she asked. "I'm Anna, by the way. Dean, right?"

"Yep." Dean answered, sliding the key into the ignition and turning it.

The engine sputtered in response.

"Aw come on honey," Dean cooed, running a hand over the dashboard. "I know you can start for me,"

He tried again with the same result.

"Okay, let's see what's under the hood." Dean said, getting out of the car and popping the front lid.

Anna had taken a seat on a nearby stool, head resting on the base of her palms as she watched. Her eyes had the same trickster gleam that Dean had seen in Gabriel last night.

He opened his mouth to ask if she had any brothers, but then thought better of it. He wasn't here to make friends or small talk; he was here to fix a car.

Dean searched for the obvious problems – dead battery, lack of oil, or burnt out engine – and found nothing to explain why the car would refuse to start.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say the car was possessed." Dean said to Anna, who chuckled airily. "There's nothing here to indicate the problem you're talkin' about."

"Maybe it's just old?" Anna suggested.

An image of the Impala flashed in Dean's mind's eye, and he shook his head as he came out from under the hood to face her.

"As long as a car is cared for, it can run for years after most of those crackpot dealerships try to turn it to scrap."

"So what's the issue?" Anna asked, cocking her head again, this time at the car.

"It'll probably take me a few days to figure it out, since it's nothing obvious." Dean replied. "Do you have another way of getting home?"

"My brother'll pick me up, once he wakes up from his hangover. Says he got hustled in pool last night."

Dean can't hide his smirk. "What?" Anna asked, amused.

"Nothing; I just find it funny that your brother is the same guy I destroyed last night."

Anna raises both eyebrows and snorts delicately. "You're the one that beat Gabriel at pool? I'm learning all sorts of things about you, Dean Winchester."

"Glad to be of service." Dean said, though something in her tone left him a little off-put.

It occurred to him later – long after she'd left and Dean had dealt with a quite a few other customers – that he'd never told her his last name.

A/N: Hello there! So, uh, long time no see for those of you on my profile, and hi to those of you on AO3! There's a better answer to your questions in my bio, so I won't waste your time with that here.

However, this is my first ever Destiel fanfic, so if you could leave a review or kudos on how you felt about it, that would be greatly appreciated.

Thanks!

-Charmy