Castiel leaned awkwardly against the door of the Impala, watching patiently with his brow furrowed as Dean packed a couple of duffel bags into the trunk. Dean hadn't said much when he had approached Cas not even twenty minutes earlier, one half packed duffel bag in hand. Cas had scooted back in his seat, gazing up at the hunter, curious as to why his jaw was so tense and his eyes were sombre with repressed rage. Dean had gestured for Cas to follow him, and the former angel obliged without question, trailing Dean into his room where he was instructed to pack the empty duffel on the bed with whatever clothes he thought might fit him.
Cas hadn't argued at the time, still startled by Dean's obvious foul mood, but now he was a little concerned. The bags had been an indicator of a long journey, but it hadn't occurred to him to ask where exactly they were going.
Or why Sam wasn't going with them.
He hadn't actually seen Sam since the night before when the two brothers were skulking around each other like insolent children, Cas sitting silently to the side all the while with nothing else to do except watch. Mostly he pondered over the Winchesters' irrefutable stubbornness, and he theorized that it must be heredity somehow. He had no other explanation for how the two of them had perfected the art of obstinacy in which neither would be the first to admit fault, never mind how easily the majority of their arguments could be resolved with a simple apology.
Cas had heard voices echoing from the end of the hall the previous night, the volume swiftly amplifying as their argument became more heated. With his door closed he couldn't quite make out the dispute in its entirety though he could paint a picture now with what he had overheard. It was a squabble that he didn't have the energy to defuse, nor did he have a rightful place to try. He knew he shouldn't interrupt and involve himself where he wasn't wanted, so he simply kept his distance, hoping for it to die down on its own. Which it did. Or at least he thought it did. Dean's sudden insistence for a road trip, just the two of them, was evidence to the contrary.
"Shouldn't we invite Sam?" Cas asked timidly, not wanting to make Dean angrier than he already was. Dean slammed the trunk shut and Cas winced, suddenly unsure as to how he ought to stand or where he should put his hands. Dean's expression was jarring, and Cas considered the idea of sitting in the back seat rather than in the front alongside the hunter.
"No. Sam's staying here," Dean responded plainly, digging the keys from his pocket. "This trip is about you."
"About me?" Cas asked, apprehensive. It certainly seemed like it was about Sam and Dean; Cas wasn't really sure where he himself came into it.
"Or for you, whichever you prefer," Dean confirmed and nodded his head toward the passenger door. Cas took that as his cue and opened it, the thought of the backseat still playing around the forefront of his mind. Really, he was just unwilling to argue with Dean on anything.
"Why for me? What do I need it for?"
"Well, you're human now."
"Yes, but—"
"So you have to have the human experience. The road trip is a classic. You'll love it," Dean explained dismissively and started the car, adjusting the rear view mirror while he waited for Castiel to gather his thoughts and shut the door.
Cas had to admit he was curious, and more than intrigued. If this was really a human experience then he knew he ought to try it, especially since Dean apparently thought so highly of it. The fact that Dean himself was giving the experience to him greatened the appeal.
And Cas could use the distraction.
While the bunker was comfortable with its security and warmth and great water pressure, Cas had started to feel stifled by the enclosed spaces without any windows to the outside. He hadn't spent so much time in one place before and he had found he didn't like it as much as he thought he would. He wasn't used to being grounded, unable to fly from one location to the next on a whim.
He'd started to feel heavy, burdened by what he thought must be mortality. From what Sam had told him, humans don't really feel mortality until they think about it, whereas Cas felt it all the time. He thought that perhaps humans simply familiarise themselves with the sensation until they are no longer aware of its constant presence.
Cas was still waiting for it to grow on him.
Dean remained focused on the road, his jaw still all sharp edges and his lips hard-pressed in a thin line. Cas tried to appreciate the scenery as it flew past his window, the canopy of trees blurring into one another. He didn't have to look at the gauge to know what Dean was speeding, but he offered no comment on the matter, aware that Dean most likely sped more often than not. He trusted that the hunter knew what he was doing.
Cas tried to distract himself from the speed limit but little else came to mind. Nothing good at least. When and if Cas was lucky, he could forget for half an hour or so, but most days were spent under torment at what he had inadvertently done. Only a few weeks had passed, but Dean had insisted that the guilt would ease as the time passed, and here Cas was feeling just as awful as ever, if not worse. It was still so raw, each reminder feeling like salt rubbed into fresh wounds, and by this point he was starting to believe that he truly deserved the pain. His guilt was inconceivable, and certainly daunting to the brothers the one time he had tried to describe it to them. They hadn't been able to console him at the time, and Cas hadn't really given them opportunity to try since.
And he thought that his mortality made it worse.
The need to eat didn't fade in periods of immense distress, and he still had to drag himself out of bed to use the bathroom despite wanting nothing more than to stay buried inside his blankets, wallowing. It was just exhausting. Though now he held much greater respect for humans for somehow coping with their physical needs whilst suffering from their emotional ones.
Cas looked to Dean who seemed more relaxed than before, but his fingers fidgeted on the steering wheel and he gnawed on his lip. Once or twice Cas saw the hunter open his mouth and then close it again, as though he was lost for words. Cas too didn't know what to say. He turned back to the window, resting his arm against the door.
While the view was nothing special, Cas just appreciated having natural lighting for once, and he wound down the window to let in the cool breeze. Instantly he felt refreshed, awake now from his usual state of near constant exhaustion (he hadn't expected to feel tired so frequently since Sam and Dean always seemed to sleep for four hour intervals at a time). The air dried his lips and tickled at his skin, the cool climate of late Fall soon making him shiver. He inspected the goose bumps on his arms, still impossibly intrigued by them though he understood how perfectly mundane the 'phenomenon' was.
"Roll that up will you?" Dean requested, tugging the collar of his coat up over the skin of his neck.
Cas wound the window up again, lazily running his fingers through his windswept hair to try and neaten it. He glanced at the radio, surprised to see how many hours had already passed, and he realised that he and Dean hadn't said one word to each other until now.
Now that he'd noticed, the silence turned deafening and he shifted in his seat, tapping his thigh restlessly with his hand until Dean suddenly groaned and let his head droop forward for a few seconds.
"Just… stop with the tapping," Dean pleaded and started to dig through the glove compartment, one hand still on the steering wheel. "How bout some music, huh?"
"Music?" Cas had of course heard some music before, but he hadn't ever really stopped to focus on it, instead having it there only as background noise.
"Yeah. You've gotta start with the good stuff. Heaven forbid your first real experience with music be something shitty," Dean said and tossed some cassette tapes into Castiel's lap.
Cas picked them up one at a time, inspecting them each in turn, curious as to what exactly an AC/DC or a Metallica was. Dean slipped a cassette into the stereo, cranking up the volume before Cas even had the chance to ask questions.
"Led Zeppelin!" Dean shouted over the music, grinning excitedly, "One of the greats!"
Cas could barely hear him, but he tried to listen to the music the way Dean did. He granted that it was good, but then again, he didn't know what exactly would qualify for bad. He near shuddered at the thought of Dean's reaction were he to voice his complete ignorance about music.
"I recall hearing a vinyl once," Cas said uncertainly.
Dean turned down the volume, straining to hear him, "What?"
"I recall—"
"No, I heard that part. I meant, what vinyl was it? You remember the artist? A song?"
Cas shook his head, sure now that he probably shouldn't have brought it up. He must sound so foolish. "Well, no… but I think I remember some of the lyrics."
"Sing it," Dean suggested, smiling at the former angel.
"No."
"Oh come on, I might know what it is," Dean implored teasingly, "I'm sure you have a lovely singing voice."
"Absolutely not," Cas said, firm in his resolve. He was positive that his voice would not appeal to anyone's ears, certainly not to Dean's, and he was sure to get the words wrong.
Dean grinned. "Party pooper. Did you like it? The vinyl, I mean."
"I guess so," Cas shrugged, trying to remember the melody of the music. He wasn't sure whether he had made an assessment of it at the time, but he supposed it hadn't been awful, though it was nothing like what was playing now.
"Cassette tapes are just the poor man's vinyls, so I'm sure you'll like them just fine," Dean assured him.
Castiel leaned back in his seat and watched Dean as the next song played. It was much softer than he would have expected, having heard the vibrations of heavy instruments and shouted lyrics resounding from Dean's car many times before. It intrigued him to see the hunter tapping the underside of the steering wheel in time to the words, his head nodding gently to the beat, but what captivated him most was Dean's smile. His lips were quirked to the side in a crooked grin, his features softening into something almost serene. That alone suddenly made Cas decide that he did like the song, and that from now on he could call it his favourite if anyone were to ask.
From what he could understand, the lyrics described a journey, not unlike the one they had just embarked on together where there wasn't an end in sight—ultimately the destination didn't matter. It was a voyage into the unknown with assured pain and glory, a life loose from any restraints. Cas suddenly understood the appeal it held for Dean; after all, it was just like the only life Dean really knew: just himself, Sam, the Impala, and the road.
"You like it?" Dean asked, looking at Castiel with obvious exhilaration, pleased he had someone to share his music with.
"Very much," Cas answered. Dean's grin broadened and his eyes creased at the corners.
"I'm telling you, Cas, I've got all the good stuff. I'll have you well educated on only the best in no time."
Castiel looked forward to it; happy that it made Dean happy, and it meant there would be more moments like this to come.
For the first time in days, he forgot about losing his grace and the angels falling.
Castiel went ahead into the gas station whilst Dean filled up the car, stopping to look through the magazine rack idly while he waited. He hadn't made an effort in the past to read any though he had briefly seen some of the covers in shops and in the hands of middle aged women sitting in the park while their children climbed the playground. Now that he inspected them up close, he became more confused by their subjects; unable to grasp how they so easily enthralled humans. He picked one up and leafed through the pages, underwhelmed by the number of images in comparison to the number of words. From what he had come to understand, picture books were intended for children, not adults. Though the pictures here were of very scantily clad women in what appeared to be unnatural poses that surely put strain on their knees. He thought that this surely wasn't appropriate for kids.
He looked up and saw the store clerk watching him with his eyebrow raised, only shaking his head and looking away when their eyes met each other. Cas assumed that meant he had done something wrong, since he had seen the Winchesters appraise him the same way a few times in the past. He set the magazine back in its rightful place and picked up another. Fleetingly, he wondered what exactly a Kardashian was and whether it was just as awful as it sounded; like a disease or a fungus of some kind. As he flipped through it, he recognised some of the names in the article headlines and supposed that this was the celebrity gossip that Sam sometimes mentioned in passing. This he doubted he would ever understand; though he thought that perhaps it was comparable to how the angels looked up to God. Humans certainly seemed equally devoted to their Beyoncé and Justin Bieber though he wasn't really sure why.
"Find anything interesting?" Dean asked, standing just beyond his shoulder. Cas jumped, startled, still not used to being unable to sense someone approaching. This loss of vital senses left him on edge and easy to frighten.
"What's a Kardashian?" Castiel asked innocently and Dean chuckled.
"You don't wanna know," the hunter replied simply, "hell, I wish I didn't know."
Cas nodded his head accordingly and put the magazine back, thinking it was probably wise to take Dean's answer very seriously. He hadn't expected anything good to come out of name like Kardashian, and Dean had confirmed his suspicions to be true.
It seemed to him like he was starting to get the hang of things.
"I'm gonna stock up on some snacks. I won't judge you if you wanna pick up some porn," Dean said, "my personal recommendation? Busty Asian Beauties. You can't go wrong."
Dean winked and walked over to the drink fridges, leaving Cas standing there with his cheeks flushed scarlet and his skin prickling with goose bumps though it wasn't cold inside the store. Embarrassed, Castiel ducked his head a little and grabbed any random magazine from the rack and took it to the front counter to pay; it didn't matter to him now if the Kardashian fungus was or was not featured in it.
The clerk handed him his change, his expression still that of perplexity and he didn't utter a single word to the former angel throughout the whole transaction. Castiel could still feel the heat in his cheeks as he pocketed the change and left the store with the magazine rolled up in his hand.
He didn't bother trying to read it now as he waited in the car, instead watching Dean as the hunter trailed through the store, filling up a basket with various packets and containers. Eventually he emerged with multiple bags on each arm and a case of beer clutched in his hand. Cas quickly opened the magazine and pretended to have been reading it the entire time rather than watching the hunter, but Dean just laughed as he got into the car. Castiel glanced over the top of the magazine, confused as to what was so funny, and then Dean reached forward, took the magazine from his hands, and turned it the right way up.
"Bit easier to read now?" Dean teased, starting the ignition.
Castiel's face flushed scarlet again and he cleared his throat, "Yes, thank you."
"You're very welcome," Dean chortled and drove out of the station and back onto the highway.
For the remainder of the drive, Dean switched cassettes and explained the history of each band and song, having to try and raise his voice above the noise so Cas could hear. It was baffling to him how Dean could somehow retain so much information on things that Castiel himself had never actually heard of throughout his very long existence. It seemed like a lot to take in in such a short amount of time, but he tried to remember the facts in case he needed to recall them later. Mostly he just liked to see Dean get so animated as he talked, using his hands to emphasise the supposed brilliance of Back in Black and Paranoid amongst many others.
As they went, Cas was starting to recognise that he did in fact have his own preferences when it came to music; liking the softer songs that occasionally appeared between Dean's more fast paced rock. It honestly excited him to have something he could call his own, and now he had a descriptor for what he liked. Hearing everything through human ears gave him a sense of splendour that he couldn't find before. Maybe this was all part of what Dean called the 'human experience'.
"We'll stop here for the night," Dean announced, turning the stereo down as they pulled into the parking lot of a fairly run down motel. Cas leaned forward and peered through the windscreen, observing the flaking paint and dirty windows of the building with uncertainty. He didn't have a set standard to live up to by any means, and he had spent his first week or so as a human on the street and in the homeless shelter so this wasn't so bad, but he knew it wasn't great either. But Dean didn't seem bothered by the obvious disrepair as he swung the ring of keys around on his finger and got out of the car. Cas followed and helped him gather the duffel bags and the provisions from the trunk.
He stared at the lobby of the motel as they entered, quickly discerning that the interior was as worn down as the exterior. The wallpaper drooped at the corners and the carpet was scuffed and stained with questionable substances. Even the check-in desk was chipped and marked with numerous coffee rings and ink splatter. It certainly wasn't anything special, but it wasn't unlike the hotels Sam and Dean had stayed in before, so Cas somehow found it comforting in its familiarity, and his shoulders finally started to loosen out of their previous tension.
"One room, two queen beds, if you've got any spare. Just for one night," Dean said to the receptionist who flipped through a large book, her chin resting heavily on her hand.
"Fill this out," the woman instructed, sliding a form across the counter and then disappeared into the back room. She wasn't gone long before coming back with a key. Dean exchanged the filled out form for the key with a sly grin, probably trying to get any kind of reaction out of her but she was unperturbed as she looked between the two men. "Don't forget that someone has to clean your sheets tomorrow," she said purposely.
"I'll keep that in mind," Dean replied smoothly and gestured for Cas to follow him to their room. "What a nice girl," Dean muttered under his breath once they were out of earshot.
"She didn't sound nice to me," Cas said doubtfully.
"I was being sarcastic, Cas."
"Oh," Cas mumbled, hitching the duffel bag up more firmly on his shoulder. Dean shook his head fondly and held the door open so Cas could enter first. The room was exactly what the rest of the motel promised; the walls painted slapdashedly yellow and the carpet a hideous green.
"Believe it or not, this actually isn't all that bad," Dean said, appraising the room quickly as he tossed his bag onto one of the beds.
"I believe it," Cas put his own bag down and circled the small room once before sitting down on the edge of his bed, at a loss as to what he and Dean were supposed to do now. Dean didn't seem to have any ideas either as he put the beers into the fridge to cool down, his lips pursed in thought.
To avoid the silence, Castiel pulled the magazine out, now with the genuine intention of reading it and he adjusted the pillows at his back to get comfortable. Immediately, on the very first page, Cas' brow furrowed in confusion and he looked to Dean for answers.
"Who is Lady Gaga and why is she dressed like that?"
"Hey, don't ask me. I don't follow any of that weird pop music crap," Dean replied, looking amused as he tossed Cas a packet of chips.
He opened the packet using one hand and his teeth, his other hand still holding the magazine as his eyes scanned over the article. While this Lady Gaga woman was certainly baffling, the article itself had nothing interesting to offer, and while it described her outfit in great detail, it failed to explain why she wore it, which bothered him more than it probably should.
Dean flopped down onto his own bed with a tired sigh, covering his eyes with his arm. "Careful you don't get hooked on that stuff. I swear it works like a drug on some people," he warned the former angel, "one fix and then it becomes all about the Justin Bieber or One Direction. Then Hollywood actors will soon follow. It's a downhill spiral."
"I'll proceed with caution then," Castiel replied earnestly, turning to the next page and slowly eating his chips. "You watch Dr Sexy MD, don't you, Dean?" He asked after a few minutes.
"Nope," Dean was quick to respond, but then corrected himself, "well, not anymore. You can't really see something the same way once you've been, well, in it. Why do you ask?"
"There's an article here about the cast. I thought you might be interested."
"Thanks, but no thanks," Dean got up and went to the fridge for a beer though they were bound to still be a little warm. "I don't read that stuff."
"Okay," Castiel set the magazine aside and brushed his hands clean of leftover chip salt onto his jeans, getting up to find clothes to change into to retire for the evening. Dean watched as he went into the bathroom, pyjama pants and shirt in hand.
When he emerged from the bathroom, showered, dressed and his teeth brushed, he smiled fondly as he saw Dean trying to toss the magazine back into place before Cas could see him; moving too slowly to get away with it. The hunter ran a hand through his hair, casting his eyes away in fake disinterest, but he must have known that he had been caught red handed.
"You're much leaner than I thought," Dean commented, assessing Castiel from head to foot, successfully distracting him. The shirt was certainly a little baggy on him; hanging loosely on his shoulders, and the pants were sitting dangerously low on his hips. Cas looked down at himself, suddenly self-conscious of his attire. He was a little leaner than Dean, but Sam was so ridiculously tall that there had been no way of his pants fitting Castiel, which meant there hadn't been any other option except to share with the shorter Winchester—at least until they got the chance to buy Castiel his own clothes.
Honestly, Cas wasn't in any rush to get a wardrobe of his own; these clothes smelt like Dean: like whiskey, spiced cologne and a faint remnant of gunpowder. It was just very Dean, and Cas found it easier to relax when he could breathe in the scent. It made it easier to cope with his own tormented thoughts.
He didn't offer much of a response, just mumbling something incoherent as he climbed quickly under the covers of his bed. Dean smiled a little as he went into the bathroom to also clean up before going to bed. Once the bathroom door clicked shut, Cas breathed out a sigh and closed his eyes, trying to ease himself into a gentle slumber.
This was always the hardest part: getting to sleep.
At night, his thoughts would run rampant, somehow shaking him out of his exhaustion so he had no choice but to worry over them. Eventually the very early hours of the morning would guide him into slumber, but his dreams were often corrupted with nightmares that he no longer woke from. His body was too worn down to wake from them anymore, but then the whole process would begin again the next night which didn't seem any better. He knew they were spurred on not by awful imaginings, but by his memories. His history would play out in his head like a horror movie set to repeat. All he wanted was just one night of uninterrupted rest, but he didn't hold much hope of ever getting it.
He heard Dean come out of the bathroom and then the flick of the light switch followed by the hunter settling into his own bed. After that, there was silence. It was dense and eerie and Cas curled up into a tighter ball, his hands gripping the blanket anxiously as he tried hopelessly to push his depression aside. He hadn't mentioned his unrest to Sam or Dean, having decided not to burden them with his problems since they had already given him a roof over his head, food to eat, and their clothes to wear, which was more than he even deserved.
But when a car backed out of the parking lot, its headlights streaming through the thin curtain covering the window, Castiel saw that Dean was lying there awake, watching him. Cas turned his back to the hunter, curling up even tighter so that his legs started to cramp. That look in Dean's eye… it was like he had known all along that Castiel was suffering. It was like Dean was watching over him, protecting him from harm.
After that, Castiel somehow fell asleep before midnight.
Thanks for reading, guys! I'm not sure how long this story is gonna be since I'm still in the process of writing it, but just trust that there is a lot more to come! I hope you really like it so far :)