***Hey guys! This is my first Supernatural story. It's a work in progress, but I'm not sure how good it is. Please comment with questions, concerns, and most importantly tell me if you want me to write another chapter. Also, do you guys like song recs? My rec for this chapter is Hard Life by Eddie Money. Enjoy!***

Cas was staring at him again. Dean considered himself fairly confident (Sam considered him overly confident), but Cas's continual staring was beginning to make him uncomfortable. Dean shot him an annoyed glance. The angel simply narrowed his eyes and tilted his head.

"Friggin' angels," Dean growled under his breath. He took an especially large gulp of his whiskey and slammed the glass down. Sam looked up from his dusty lore book.

"Everything okay?"

"Peachy," Dean answered shortly, glaring at Cas. The angel shifted on his feet. "Look, Cas, do you even know anything about Furies, or are you just gonna stand there all day?" Dean asked, flipping through a nearby book and avoiding Cas's gaze. Sam shot him a nasty look. Dean rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the book.

"They're ancient, that's about all I know," the angel said, moving from his spot near the fire to pace the room. He was either oblivious to Dean's sharp tone or electing to ignore it. Based on his clenched fists, Dean guessed the latter.

"Well that's great," Dean muttered sarcastically, giving up on the book and taking another gulp of whiskey. "The only one here who was even alive when the Furies were created has no idea what they are or how to kill them. You're real helpful, Cas." Cas glared at him.

"They're Greek monsters - not exactly my line of work, Dean."

"Whatever." Dean rubbed his eyes wearily and turned to Sam. "Got anything?" Sam shook his head.

"Nothing."

"Oh, great. Well this is fantastic. You know what, I'm so done with you two. Especially you." he pointed a finger at Cas, "What the hell is the point of being a goddamn angel if you don't know anything." Cas narrowed his eyes.

"I know things that you couldn't even dream of, Dean, so I'd watch your mouth if I were you." There was a rustle of wings and he was gone.

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered. He rubbed his eyes again. He hadn't slept in nearly three days. When he looked up, Sam was glaring at him.

"Oh, not you too," Dean groaned. "Look, I get it, I'm being a dick. I'm tired, and half-drunk, and we're no closer to figuring out how to gank these monsters. Just give me a break, Sam." Sam leaned forward.

"You know what, Dean? I'd like to. I really would. But with this job, you don't get a break. You don't get to have a bad day, because people are dying out there and they need us. So suck it up, Dean." Sam heaved a sigh and punctuated his lecture by tossing Dean a heavy mythology book. Dean caught it with a grunt. He opened it and stared at the pages for a while, thinking about what Sam had said.

"You're right," he said after a while. Sam looked up, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean, I hate to admit it," he spread his arms and smiled sheepishly, "but you're right." Sam sighed.

"Wish I wasn't."

"Yeah, me too." Dean stood up. "I'm gonna go see if I can find Cas." He left the room and strode out the back door. He started to pace along the rows of old cars and began his prayer to Cas,

"Castiel, who art God knows where and probably pissed at me, get your feathery ass over here so we can talk."

***So...what do you guys think? I edited as of 11/28/2017 and I'm much happier with this draft. I know it's shorter, but I feel like it's better quality, and the subsequent chapters will be longer. Dean is much more in character and his relationship with Cas is unfolding slower so I can add more details and make it really good. I'll probably add another chapter soon if you guys want.***