CHAPTER 1
Yet if there is an angel at their side, a messenger, one out of a thousand, sent to tell them how to be upright,
and he is gracious to that person and says to God, 'Spare them from going down to the pit; I have found a ransom for them—
let their flesh be renewed like a child's; let them be restored as in the days of their youth'—
then that person can pray to God and find favor with him, they will see God's face and shout for joy; he will restore them to full well-being."
Job, 33:23-26
THEN
Somewhere in Heaven
Castiel was not Dean Winchester's guardian angel. He was a Malakh, a warrior. He was not a guardian angel. On the contrary, his job was to collect his soul and deliver him to Death, so the Grim Reaper could take him before their Father to be judged. For Dean's time on Earth had ended and the man would be rewarded for his life in Heaven.
Yet, as Castiel stood before Death to plead for Dean's life, he wondered since when he cared about what happened to humans. Something had changed inside him and he didn't understand what or why. He had always been able to execute his orders with precision, no questions asked, no hesitation, and he had always been praised for that.
It wasn't that Dean was too young to die. Castiel had collected children's souls before, often sick ones, and he had never questioned. Dean was 32, and if Death had decided it was Dean's time, then it was. Castiel had been sent to Earth to collect his soul, because all angels had to serve the Pale Horseman once in a while. Death was ancient, having existed since the beginning of time alongside God. Castiel's was a simple task. Simpler than the many wars Castiel had fought against demons of all kinds.
But Castiel couldn't do it.
For a week, he had observed the man whose death he would be responsible for. And at the end of every single day, he had gone to Heaven in shame and doubt. Shame that he had once more failed to execute such a simple task. Doubt about the task itself, for Castiel couldn't understand why he had to do it, and that led to questions that led to hesitation.
For the first time, in his very long life, Castiel doubted. For the first time, he hesitated. And everything that happened after that were just consequences of that first instant of doubt.
NOW
Lawrence, Kansas, July, 2013
"Hiya, Cas!"
"Hello, Dean," Castiel said as he opened the diner's door. "What are you doing here so early?"
"Didn't sleep much, so I came to see if you guys were open and if I could beg for a cup of coffee." Dean leaned on the door, looking beaten.
"What happened with your coffee maker?" Castiel wanted to know.
Deal gave a small laugh. "Man, you are something. Look, I just need a cup of coffee and someone to talk to. My coffee maker is fine."
Castiel frowned and stepped aside to let Dean in. "What happened? You seem tired."
"I am dead on my feet," Dean said as he sat on a stool by the counter, while Cas went to fetch him a cup. "I went out last night to have a drink. Don't remember much, but I woke up in my bedroom with this killer headache, and couldn't go back to sleep."
"I don't understand humans' need to imbibe copious amounts of alcohol," Castiel said, while he poured coffee in Dean's cup.
"Ha ha, very funny. You talk as if you're not human. Don't tell me you never got drunk before."
Castiel tilted his head. "I didn't. I never drank anything with alcohol in it."
It was Dean's time to frown. "Dude, are you serious?" When Castiel nodded he went on. "What a waste! Sometimes I forget you used to live in a nutshell," he joked.
"I never had occasion," Castiel justified.
Dean laughed again. "Come on, man, not even a beer? You're 35 and you never had alcohol in your whole life?"
"No,"Castiel answered, unable to understand the allure alcohol had on people.
"Dude, you don't know what you're missing. Listen, you wanna go to the Roadhouse again one of these days? Just you and me? Have some beers, play some pool?" Dean smiled, then got serious again. "Unless you can't come, for some religious reason or whatever…?"
"I would be honored to accompany you, Dean," Castiel hurried to say.
"Okay, is Friday night alright with you?"
Castiel nodded. "It's a date."
Dean's eyes widened. "Whoa, man!" he laughed. "It's not… I don't… I mean, I … okay, it doesn't have to be a date, like, a date, you know?" Dean shrugged. "It will be good for you to get out of here for a bit."
"Alright,"Castiel answered, looking down. "More coffee?"
They stayed in companionable silence for a while, Castiel cleaning here and there, getting the diner ready to open, and Dean lost in his own thoughts while he sipped his coffee.
Castiel liked moments like that. He had been in Lawrence for almost two months now, and Dean was almost every day at the diner. Sometimes he arrived early, before the owners even, always with some kind of excuse to get inside before the diner opened. Castiel suspected Dean liked his coffee very much, although he had never made coffee before coming to the city.
At 7 Missouri arrived, loudly as always.
"Dean!" she greeted, patting Dean's back affectionately. "Can't say it's a surprise to find you here, boy. You seem to like my diner very much these days," she said, winking at Castiel, but he frowned, completely at a loss. If that was a joke, he didn't understand.
Dean's cheeks turned a little red. "Come on, Missouri, a man can't have his coffee in peace anymore?" he said, looking at the floor.
"Castiel, darling," Missouri said, "be a gentleman and get the groceries I left in the car, will you?"
Castiel nodded and wiped his hands on his apron, walking outside and leaving Dean and Missouri talking. The Winchesters were old friends, she had explained to Castiel one day, and Missouri had taken care of them more than once when they were little, so their mother could work.
Outside, the day was sunny and cloudless, and Castiel walked to Missouri's car to get the groceries with no hurry. The little flower shop that belonged to Mary Winchester was already opening, and she waved at him from the other side of the street. She was a sweet and kind woman, and everybody in the neighborhood talked fondly about her. and she had always smiled and waved at him since he arrived, even before they'd met.
When he got back with the heavy bags full of fruits and eggs, Missouri and Dean were talking quietly and they seemed very serious. Castiel knew it wasn't his place to intrude, so he left the groceries inside and came back with the pastries to arrange them on the plates by the counter. He couldn't help listening to their talk, though.
"So, John has been calling Mary again," Missouri said. "I knew there was something wrong since I saw your face."
"Yeah," Dean sighed. "He's been calling, and she's been crying. What the Hell, Missouri, how can she still love him after all these years?"
"Love is hard to explain or understand, boy. You will understand your mother when you feel it yourself."
"Forget it," Dean snapped. "If love does to people what it did to Mom and Dad, thanks, but no thanks."
They were quiet for a few seconds and then Missouri whispered: "He is in town."
Dean grimaced and looked at her. "Dad? I feared that. You felt it?"
"Yes." she sighed. "I may be wrong".
"No way. I don't understand this psychic thing you have going but it never fails."
"What are you going to do if he comes knocking?"
"He won't come looking for me or Sam," Dean said barely repressing his rage. "But Mom's it's a whole different thing. I swear, if he makes her cry of if he upsets Sam, I – "
"You nothing, boy!" Missouri's voice was harsh. "He is your father."
"Yeah, and what a great father he is," Dean snorted. "A father who abandoned her with two small children, Sam was only six months for God's sake!" Dean looked at her seriously. "You know Mom and Sam are everything to me. I would do anything for them. Shit, if God himself came to Earth to make me choose, I would put them before anything in the world, even Him. I won't let Dad hurt them," he said, vehemently.
Castiel felt a sharp pain in his insides at Dean's words. He let the empty plate he was holding crash on the floor while he clutched at his abdomen, gasping.
"Cas!" Dean was at his side in an instant, a hand on his back and the other supporting him. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, I – I am fine now," he tried to straighten himself, but the dizziness that came made him blink several times before he could focus on Dean's face before him.
"Fine my ass!" Dean helped him sit on a chair. "Come on, you need to sit down."
"When was the last time you eat, boy?" Missouri asked Castiel knowingly.
"The plate, I need – I need to clean the floor before – "
"Answer her, dammit!" Dean snapped. "Did you eat today?"
"I – I don't – I don't know," he answered, taking a deep breath. "Maybe I forgot…?"
"Seriously? You don't know?" Dean asked in disbelief.
"Stay there while I get you some warm tea and milk," she said, disappearing inside the kitchen.
"Bring some crackers too!" Dean shouted.
They waited patiently while Castiel ate everything. Dean cleaned the floor and Missouri only opened the diner when they were sure he was alright. Then Dean left for work and Castiel spent the whole day between cleaning tables and serving coffee; before he knew it, it was late night and the diner was closing.
Later, in the small bedroom behind the diner, where he lived, Castiel sat on the bed, thinking. He contemplated praying, but there wasn't any reason to despair. Not yet.
He opened the bedside table's drawer and got an old bible Missouri had given him on his first day in the city. Inside, there was a paper with Castiel's messy handwriting. There was only one line written.
You shall not misuse the name of the LORD your God.
Slowly, painfully, Castiel wrote under the first line:
You shall have no other gods before me.
He stayed a few moments looking at the paper, lost in thought. Then, he put the paper inside the book again, turned off the light and went to sleep.
THEN
Lawrence, Kansas, April, 2013
The first time Dean Winchester saw Castiel, he thought the guy was very strange. Dean had barely stepped inside the diner and the man stopped in front of him.
"Hello," he said, with a low, deep voice, rough as sandpaper.
Dean looked around. Maybe the guy had mistaken Dean for someone else? "Um… hi?" he said, when it was clear the man would not move before he answered.
"Hello," the man said again, without moving.
"Hello, how are you this fine morning?" Dean attempted a little sarcasm, because come on, who was this guy?
"It is indeed a fine morning. The sun is very bright and the breeze is pleasant," the guy answered.
"Okay, is this some kind of joke?" Dean asked, looking at the guy for real for the first time, and whoa! Blue eyes, bed hair, a light stubble…the guy was a looker, but apparently, completely nuts.
"Hello, Dean. My name is Castiel," he said, extending his hand for Dean to shake.
"Okay, this is getting creepy. Cas what? And you know my name, how?"
"Dean! I guess you met my new employee, Castiel," Missouri appeared out of nowhere, patting Dean's back like she always did. "He just arrived in town, and he needed a job and a place to stay, so he'll be working here and staying at the room in the back."
"Oh. That is, err… great," Dean said, at a loss of words. Missouri had the habit of employing stray guys and girls once in a while. They always stayed in the little apartment in the back of the diner. And they always went away. One day they were there, the other day they weren't anymore. He looked at her worriedly. Did she even know where this guy had come from?
"I know what you're thinking, boy, and you don't need to worry. His brother is an old friend of mine, I'm completely safe."
"Uh… okay," Dean said, eyeing the guy that seemed to follow his conversation with Missouri curiously, without saying a word. "So… um… okay, then," Dean said, not knowing what else to say. The guy, Castiel, was still looking at him as if he was very interesting and Dean fought the urge to run his hand through his hair, just to check if it was in place.
"Come on, boys, there is hot chocolate inside," Missouri said with a snort, turning and walking straight to the kitchen.
Dean spent half an hour sipping his chocolate and eyeing Castiel suspiciously while Missouri taught the man to use the coffee maker and fetched a new apron for him to use. More than once their eyes met, and Dean had to look away, uncomfortable with Castiel's piercing gaze.
Missouri was like a second mother to him. After his parents got divorced, Mary had opened a flower shop across the street, and Dean had lost count of how many times he and his baby brother Sam had gone to the diner to have lunch and dinner while Mary worked.
They had found out about Missouri's psychic ability at an early age. Now he and Sam were used to it, accepting her gift as a part of who Missouri was. Dean had relied on her intuition more than once, and she had never failed.
When they were growing up, while Sam preferred to do his homework at their quiet house, its emptiness usually left Dean restless. So, he started going to the diner every day and, sitting at a table at the back, he did his homework every afternoon. The fact that Missouri usually gave him pie and hot chocolate was a plus.
Even now, Dean went to the diner almost every day, usually to have breakfast or dinner, but sometimes just to say hello. He loved Missouri, so it was natural that he was very protective towards her. She was a widow and, having never had children, she lived by herself. Dean knew that she liked to help people, but he found her habit to put strangers under her roof – based only on her intuition about them – very unsettling.
He wouldn't let anyone harm her. And if this Cas-whatever was going to be around for a while, Dean was going to keep an eye on him. He was definitely weird and he was looking at Dean again in that intense way that made a shiver run down Dean's spine. This could not be good. Who knew who this guy was or what he could do to Missouri? Sometimes she was too kind for her own good.
Yeah, it was decided: Dean would keep an eye on this guy, because he needed to protect Missouri.
Just in case.
NOW
Lawrence, Kansas, July, 2013
On Friday night, Castiel was ready to go out with Dean. "Not a date", he repeated in his head. But he was immensely fond of the man, and he was happy that Dean had asked him out. On the non-date.
Also, he was a little anxious to see what a bar was like. Castiel had never gone inside a den of iniquity, and he was very curious. He wondered if curiosity was an attribute of his new condition. Or maybe he had always been like that.
But more than seeing what the bar was like, he just wanted to keep Dean safe.
Missouri had given him the night off. It was Friday night and the diner was busy, but she insisted that he should go and have some fun. He still felt uncomfortable leaving her in a busy night, but her nephews Gordon and Victor, who also worked at the diner, said they would help her.
Dean was late by nineteen minutes and eleven seconds. Castiel was beginning to worry he wouldn't come. He arrived in his black Impala, dressed also in black, except for the leather jacket. He looked very attractive.
Castiel checked his reflection in the mirror nervously. His white button down and his dark jeans looked too simple compared with Dean's clothes. But Dean's eyes widened when he looked at Cas.
"You look, um, you look great," Dean smiled. "I've only seen you with that fucking yellow apron, man," he said.
"Thank you, Dean. You look very good as well." It was true, so Castiel didn't see any problem in stating the truth.
The drive to the bar was in silence because Dean wanted to introduce Castiel to "the best music ever". Castiel wouldn't have chosen the loud guitars and the screaming voice if he had been given the opportunity, but the music wasn't unpleasant. And it fit Dean like a glove. Loud and intense, full of life, like the man beside him.
Once they got at the Roadhouse, Dean found them a table near one of the windows and while Castiel waited, he went to the counter and came back with two beers.
"Cheers," he said, taking a long sip of his.
Castiel didn't like the bitter taste too much, but Dean insisted it was just because he wasn't used to it. Because Dean insisted he should eat something, Castiel ordered a salad. Dean shook his head at Castiel's choice and ordered for himself a bacon cheeseburger and French fries, and the two started to eat in companionable silence, as it always happened with them.
"You're just like my brother," Dean said, eyeing Cas' salad suspiciously. "How can you eat rabbit food?"
"I'm sure Sam is just worrying, with reason, about his arteries and his blood pressure. You should be doing that too."
"Nah, not me. I'm more the type 'live intensely, die young', you know?"
Castiel felt a pang in his heart. "You shouldn't say that. You do not deserve to die young."
"Man, it's just a figure of speech, you know?" Dean smiled at Cas. "Of course I don't want to die young. Have to take care of Mom and I want to see Sammy become an important lawyer in New York, or something like that."
"Your love for him is amazing," Castiel smiled too, because it was hard not to. Dean's face brightened when he talked about his brother.
"Dude, Sam is the most intelligent person I've ever seen," Dean said enthusiastically. "He was always the top of his class and graduated High school with honor. Next year he will be a fucking lawyer. It's hard to believe.
"You must be very proud of him," Castiel agreed.
"He's awesome," Dean said with a fond smile. Then he smirked, "I don't even know why you're my friend instead of his. You two have more in common than you and I. I guess it's because I found you first." Dean smiled and signaled at the waiter to keep the beers coming.
"I like you," Castiel stated, like it was the simplest thing in the world. "We don't need to have a lot in common to spend time with each other.
Dean stopped and raised his eyebrows. "Thanks, I guess. I, um, I like you too, Cas," he admitted. "Talking to you is easy."
"Thank you, Dean". .﷽﷽﷽﷽﷽﷽﷽﷽ Deanis easy.g like thspend time with each other.d.
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become an important lawyer in New York, or something like th
Dean cleared his throat. "Now, tell me about you. I feel like you know my whole life and I don't have the slightest clue about you."
Castiel bit his lower lip and nodded, a little hesitant. "What do you want to know?"
"Tell me something about your family."
Castiel took a deep breath. "I… I have many brothers and sisters. But lately I've been separated from them. I've been close to one of my brothers, though. I haven't seen him in a long time, but... he helped me when I needed him."
"The one you talk about?" Dean asked.
Castiel nodded. "He brought me here and introduced me to Missouri."
"And where is he now?" Dean wanted to know.
Castiel looked down, hesitant. Then he said softly, "Working."
If Dean noted Castiel's sad expression, he didn't give any indication. "And where did you work before coming to this wonderful town?" He asked, giving a huge bite in his sandwich.
"I, uh… I was a… a messenger."
"Really? Wow, I thought you were a teacher or something like that. A librarian maybe, I don't know. You strike me as the nerdy type."
Castiel smiled softly. "I enjoy reading very much."
The rest of the dinner went smoothly, Castiel managing to take the conversation away from himself. They talked about Dean's childhood, and the pranks Dean and Sam liked to pull on their Uncle Bobby. He wasn't their uncle for real, just John's best friend, but he had always been there for the boys when their own dad wasn't.
Dean didn't like to talk about his father, Castiel noted. Every time he mentioned the man, it was with a hint of hurt, maybe anger in his eyes. But he wasn't ready for the next thing Dean said:
"What about your parents? Tell me about them."
Castiel's lips formed a thin line and he looked down, clearly uncomfortable.
"Hey, hey, sorry…" Dean said, covering Castiel's hand with his over the table and giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry, if you don't wanna talk about this, I won't insist. You're not the only one with daddy issues."
Castiel looked at Dean's eyes and found nothing but sympathy. His heart squeezed strangely in his chest. He had never had a friend before, not outside his family. It made him feel important, like he was special, and Castiel knew he wasn't.
He looked at Dean's hand on his, and when Dean realized he still hadn't let Castiel's hand go, he gave a nervous laugh and widened his eyes, but before he could pull his hand away, Castiel gripped it firmly. He had never done that, had never felt someone else's hand on his, but it felt so right that he couldn't find in him the will to let go.
"Um… Cas…? Dean asked, squeezing his hand again before he let go.
"Yes, Dean?" Castiel eyed his empty hand that now seemed very lonely over the table.
"Wanna go for a walk? Or do you want to play pool instead?"
Before Castiel could answer, a strong perfume assaulted his senses.
"Hey, Dean! Who's your boyfriend?" a female voice asked from behind.
"Hey, Bella," Dean said, clearly annoyed and letting Cas' hand go. "This is Cas. My friend."
"Hello, cutie,," she said to Cas. "But don't worry, Dean, I still think you're cuter," she laughed, a beer in her hand, her clothes showing more than they should. "When will you take me home with you, big boy?"
"Go home, Bella," Dean said, rolling his eyes. "Earl must be worried."
"Oh, you had to talk about him and spoil everything, huh?" she laughed again. "But I'm not angry, I swear. And if you don't talk about Earl again, I'll let you and your boyfriend take me home, whattya think?"
Castiel's eyes widened. "I don't – I don't think we – "
"Thanks , Bella, but we're in a hurry to meet Sam," Dean gave her a fake smile and pulled Castiel from his chair. "Let's go, Cas."
"Don't know what you're missing, boys!" she called while Dean pulled Cas by the arm toward the counter, where he paid the bill. In less than three minutes they were outside, the breeze messing with Cas' hair even more.
"I guess you won't be teaching me hot to play pool tonight," Castiel said.
"I'm sorry about Bella," Dean sighed while they got inside the car. "She's been trying to get in my pants for a while. And she's not the type who gives up, apparently," Dean snorted.
"She's a very attractive woman," Castiel said.
"Tell me about it," Dean laughed. Last week I was at the Roadhouse and she practically sat on my lap."
"She must like you," Castiel said, with something very similar to anger starting to burn hot in his chest.
"She likes everybody, if you get my meaning." Dean said, starting the car. "I mean, I don't deny I've got the hots for her, but every guy in the neighborhood has. But I'm not in the mood for one-night stands anymore."
Castiel felt the burning in his chest getting a little worse. Dean was a free, single man, and Bella didn't have to be a one-night stand. "You could have something more… permanent, if you wanted," he said, even though he felt his throat burning too.
"Nah," Dean stopped at the red light. "She's not the one, Cas. Besides, she's married. Earl, the guy I asked her about? Great guy, a marine, but came from Afghanistan paraplegic. Apparently Bella wasn't ready to play housewife to a sick husband. Poor guy."
But Castiel wasn't listening. At the world 'married' the burning in Castiel's throat and chest got worse and he gasped, everything black for a second.
"Cas?" Dean asked, turning to him, but a horn sounded from behind them, the light already green. The car rolled for a few seconds before Den asked, "Man, are you sick or something? This is not the first time this happens."
"I'm fine," Castiel said finally, when Dean stopped in front of the diner. For some reason, he couldn't look Dean in the eyes. He opened the car's door and turned to him. "Good night, Dean. Thank you, I had a great time tonight," he said, getting out of the car before Dean could answer. He didn't look back, so he didn't see Dean's puzzled expression.
Going straight to his room, Castiel sighed and closed his eyes, as he closed the door behind him. Dean's words still in his mind. "I don't deny I've got the hots for her," and "she's married."
Things were going too fast. Castiel hadn't made the rules, but he suspected that not even who'd made them thought things were going to progress this fast.
This wasn't right.
He opened the old Bible again and picked the paper inside it.
"You shall not covet your neighbor's wife," he wrote.
Three in a week. It was too much. Things were going well, why this sudden fast pacing? If before Castiel thought he had no reason to despair, now something cold, like dread, was starting to grow inside him. How could this be happening? Was he so incompetent that there was nothing he could do to slow the pace?
He looked at the paper again, where three sentences seemed to burn at his eyes. Three. In what, four days? Five? At this rate, everything would be over in months. "Maybe less," he thought with a shiver.