Hi guys! Here's another DESTIEL fic for all of you! Sorry if there is lack of emotion or wrong grammar or something or other... this was written from 11:00pm to 1:45 am... i am tired. imma sorry. Hope you enjoy though! :))

Snippets of What Could Have Been

It was supposed to be just a Wendigo in California.

It was supposed to be just a Wendigo.

Dean groaned as Chuck led Sam and Dean into his new apartment, all the while chatting with Sam—stuttering seems more appropriate on Chuck's part—about the latest visions he'd been having about the two boys. At first, Dean was listening, as it pertained to something about Castiel and their profound bond, yadda, yadda, yadda… but then he tuned them out once the two of them started talking about their past adventures; Sam's spat with Ruby, Dean's thing with Anna, the wraith at the psychiatric ward they once killed, yadda, yadda, yadda...

Yeah, not that important at the moment…

Chuck opened the door to his apartment—a homey three-roomed loft with a medium-sized TV, a kitchen with a marble counter, and two bedrooms and a bathroom.

Dean put down the grocery bags on the dining table near the counter and helped himself to the TV while Sam and Chuck put the groceries away. He was about to make himself comfortable on the couch when he felt a bunch of papers crumple beneath him.

"Chuck!" Dean grabbed the papers and unceremoniously dumped them on the coffee table in front of him. "Leave your papers out of my ass!"

"For the record, Dean, that is my couch." Chuck stuttered from the kitchen behind Dean. The hunter only snorted as he turned on the TV. He started channel surfing and was just about to settle on an old rerun of Dr. Sexy when a word from one of the papers caught his eye:

"Destiel?" Dean read, aloud. He put down the remote and was about to grab the paper when a crash came from the kitchen.

"Don't!" Chuck yelled. He ran out of the kitchen, his hair slightly caked in flour. Sam followed him, his shoes caked with the stuff. He grabbed the paper Dean was reaching out for, along with the entire messy pile on the table, and rushed to his room. He came out several seconds later with a key in hand. He shut the door and locked it, and pressed himself against it as if trying to guard some precious secret.

"What?!" Dean shouted, perplexed. Chuck swallowed visibly and tucked the key in his pocket.

"It's… uh… n-not for y-you to read!" Chuck stuttered. He shuffled to the kitchen and started to sweep up the flour that he dropped in his haste to protect the papers.

"What the hell was that about?" Sam asked, shaking off the flour that clung to his shoes. Dean shrugged. He eyed Chuck suspiciously as he bustled about the kitchen, packing away his groceries. Dean heard the occasional mutter of "stupid" and "not his" or "just a daydream".

"What was 'just a daydream'?" Dean questioned, his eyes narrowing when he saw Chuck falter. But Chuck only continued, if not faster. Sam raised a brow.

"What brings you by?" he asked, not answering the question. He was finished now, now he was bringing out three beers, a frying pan and oil. He brought out a frozen bag of fries from the freezer and dumped it in a big bowl of water.

"Uh… nothing, really," Sam said. "We just wanted to check up on you… and the Supernatural books."

Chuck visibly paled at the mention of the books. Dean was at his limit at this bullshit.

"Chuck, cut the crap. What was on those papers? Why are you acting all… weird?" Sam gave him a look. "Well… weirder than normal?"

Chuck huffed at that, but he didn't answer. Instead he muttered, "You already hate my dreams at night, why the hell should I tell you what I dream in the day?"

"Wait… what?" Dean was at a loss, now. Sam was also lost at Chuck's vague answer.

"I believe I can explain."

Sam and Dean turned around at the sound of Castiel's voice. The angel was standing behind Dean, his blue-eyed stare making Dean fidget slightly. Sam asked:

"Please do," Sam said, flopping down on the couch. He propped his feet up on the coffee table while Chuck just sighed. He returned to the kitchen to get the stove going.

"I believe Chuck has been seeing visions of the future in his daydreams." Castiel said, settling himself on a vacant chair beside the couch. Dean sat on the arm of the couch.

"Yeah," Dean snorted. "Like that's something new,"

Castiel sighed, "You misunderstand; Chuck receives solid visions of the future about you while he sleeps. The visions he receives during his waking moments are not uncommon for prophets like him."

"What do you mean 'prophets like him'?" Sam asked, he leaned forward, clearly engrossed in the topic now.

"Prophets are mouthpieces and conduits for the inspired word," Castiel said. Dean noted that he only repeated his definition of what a prophet was during the first time they met Chuck. "High-ranking angels choose them, but only if the potential had already resided within that individual."

"So you're telling us," Sam summed up; he pointed to Chuck in the kitchen, frying French fries. "That Chuck was already a psychic before he was chosen?"

"Not necessarily, it could be possible that his potential laid dormant. It could have been so until his death if the angels had not chosen him." Castiel said. "When they anointed him as a Prophet of the Lord, his powers were, as you say, 'jump-started'."

"Woah, hold up." Dean held up his hands. "I just wanted to know what the hell was on that paper. To be frank, I don't give a crap about what Chuck was."

"I resent that!" His voice yelled from the kitchen. Dean only snorted. Castiel tilted his head in question, but Dean only waved it away.

"So what's your point?" Dean asked.

"My point is, Dean, what Chuck has written on those papers were bits and pieces of possible futures. Do you understand?" Castiel said.

Dean was silent. Castiel suppressed a sigh.

"The future is not set in stone." Castiel began, Dean snorted. Castiel sent him a pointed look. "But the visions a prophet receives from the Heavenly Host almost always comes to pass, as Sam demonstrated when he denied Lilith's sexual advances."

Chuck had just come back with a tray of fries and beer. When Castiel said 'sexual advances', Dean just about choked on his drink. Sam pounded him on the back as Dean expelled the liquor from his lungs.

"What?"Dean said eyes wide.

Castiel did his head-tilt thing again, one Dean couldn't deny was cute.

Wait, cute?

"Did Lilith not attempt to seduce Sam in your motel room?" Castiel inquired innocently. Now it was Sam's turn to choke on his beer. Chuck chuckled while Dean full-on chortled while he pounded Sam's back.

"C-Cas!" Sam stammered, wiping the beer from his lips.

"Continue, please." Chuck said, he was smiling now, but his eyes continued to dart to his locked bedroom door with anxiety.

"Okay," Castiel said, his eyes lingering over at Dean's for a moment longer before concentrating on Chuck. "The visions that Chuck wrote down on those papers were visions of possible futures. For example: say you did not stop over last night on the way here; you would have taken a break at the local diner a few blocks from here and seduced a black-haired waitress named Jenna. You then would have taken her to her apartment, which just so happened to be on the floor above us, and proceeded to copulate with her."

Now Chuck just laughed. Sam laughed alongside him while Dean looked at Castiel in horror.

"Copulate?"

"Yes, Dean. Is that not the proper term?"

Sam and Chuck had stopped laughing. But at Castiel's head-tilt and Dean's bewildered expression, they cracked up again.

"Oh, shut up, you two." Dean said, throwing some French fries at them. "How would you even know that, Cas?"

Now Castiel was never one to express emotion except for confusion when he is encountered with something that is beyond his understanding. But now, Dean swore Castiel blushed.

"I keep a close eye on the possible futures that Chuck sees." He answered. But Dean could tell there was more to the story.

"And…?" Dean prompted. Now Dean knows Castiel is blushing. Sam notices this too because he leans forward, beer forgotten.

"Cas, is there something you're not telling us?"Sam said, trying to make his voice soft.

Castiel seemed like he wasn't going to answer, but he merely sighed. "I have read some very… interesting probabilities involving you and me, Dean."

Dean's heart flipped and he suppressed a blush. Sam began to smirk as he leaned back and sipped from his beer. Chuck just looked plain uncomfortable.

"Involved how?" Dean probed.

Castiel's ears turned pink, and Dean suppressed a moan at how hot Cas looked right now; lips slightly parted and face all red… and that goddamn sex hair. Dean could feel a stirring in his nether regions.

"Some of Chuck's visions point to a future where… you and I… we…" Castiel couldn't find the right words, so he cleared his throat and tried again.

"Some of Chuck's visions point to a future where you and I are involved… erotically." Castiel finally said, but he almost seemed sad. Dean's breath hitched and Sam's smirk faded, and it was replaced with a look of questioning.

Dean was silent, but his mind was racing with a thousand scenarios, not all of them involving Castiel with his clothes on.

"Dean?" Castiel probed.

Dean snapped out of his stupor. He smiled a small smile for Cas as he finished his beer.

"Yeah?"

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah! I mean, come on… it's just one possible future, right? It doesn't happen?"

Yep, Dean was an idiot. But the hunter couldn't find it in himself to be selfish and just take Cas. The angel was special to him, and he didn't want to take Cas if Cas didn't want him.

Castiel lost all traces of the blush that previously adorned his face. His mouth was closed now, and it was set in a firm line. Sam was shocked at Dean's words while Chuck… well, Chuck left as soon as Castiel said the word 'erotically'.

"No, it does not happen. And I believe that it will never happen. Even if another probability of similar nature should arise, we know now that it will never come to pass." Castiel said, the monotone back in his voice, though Dean could sense a sharp undercurrent in the angel's tone.

"Cas, I—" Dean began. But Castiel waved him off.

"I must go now, Dean, Sam. It was a rather… interesting visit. I shall see you soon." Castiel emphasized the word 'interesting', as he stared at Dean while saying so. Sam just nodded numbly as Cas disappeared in a sound of rustling feathers.

Dean and Sam sat staring at the space where Cas was. Sam was the first to snap out of his stupor by chugging down his beer and standing up.

"Nice job, Dean." He commented. Dean still said nothing as he stared at the place where Castiel had been sitting.

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God, what have I done?

NOW THE ULTIMATE QUESTION: Should I put a sequel? :3