A/N: Thanks for reading! This is a one-shot story, just a short one taking place in Season Four of Supernatural. This was a prompt challenge from Aleandri (check out her stories, they're fun). It wasn't due until Thursday, but I had a blast writing it and finished early. Hope you like it! Comment and let me know what you think!

oOoOo

"We have to, Sam."

"No, Dean, come on. That's not right."

"It's for his own good."

"No, this is for your own amusement."

"That's beside the point," Dean replied, waving his hand dismissively. "Cas needs to be taken down a notch, okay? He thinks just because he's an angel, he can be all 'high and mighty' with us. Guy needs to grow a sense of humor. Operation Humble Cas is underway. Are you on board? Or are you gonna make me go this one solo?"

Sam sighed, looking down into his lukewarm mug of stale diner coffee. "Fine," he conceded, looking back up at Dean. "But only so I can keep an eye on you and make sure you don't take it too far."

"That's my boy, Sammy," Dean said with a grin, reaching across the flower-printed table to clap his brother on the shoulder proudly. He straightened in his booth seat, his face growing serious. "Cas," he said out loud, though quietly enough to not draw attention from the half-asleep waitress behind the counter. "We need you. There's, uh, somethin' we gotta—"

"What is it?"

Sam jumped slightly at the low voice that came from the man now sitting next to him. He sighed and looked out the diner window, running a hand over his face. Dean leaned forward toward Castiel, who was looking at him expectantly.

"We need your help with a case," Dean said gravely. "We're out of our league, here. We think it's demon work, but it's something we've never heard of before."

"You've handled demons before," Castiel said with a slightly furrowed brow. "I don't understand why you need my help."

"Just trust me, okay?" Dean said impatiently. "We're hunters. We know what we're doing. And we know when we need help. So you gonna help us, or you gonna just flutter off and leave us in a mess like the rest of your dick friends?"

Castiel looked over to Sam, who was still looking out the window with a strained expression, his hand on his chin. "Is the situation really that dire?" he asked the back of Sam's head.

Dean's foot shot forward under the table and connected sharply with Sam's shin. Sam flinched, shooting Dean an exasperated look before turning and forcing a half-smile. "Yeah, we could use your help," he said, trying to keep the hesitation out of his voice.

Castiel looked back at Dean. "Then I'm here. What would you like me to do?"

Dean took a ten out of his wallet and dropped it on the table. "Follow me."

oOoOo

"It doesn't look like the haven of sin and debauchery that you described," Castiel said dubiously, looking up at the neat front of the coffee shop in the afternoon sunlight.

"Trust me," Dean said, rubbing his hands together with barely-hidden glee. "It's chalk-full of sinners and debauchery… 'ers…."

Sam cast him a sideways look that he pointedly ignored before leading the way through the front door. As the three stepped inside, Dean looked around, smiling at how full the shop was. Almost every table was taken in the lunchtime rush, and most were female. An attractive woman behind the counter smiled at them warmly.

"Can I help you?" she asked them.

Dean turned to Sammy. "I'll get the coffees," he muttered. "You fill Cas in."

"No, I'll get the coffees," Sam said, giving him a look that said 'nice try'. "YOU fill Cas in."

As he walked away, Dean sighed and led Castiel to a small table in a back corner of the shop. They sat in the tall stools, Dean leaning back against the uncomfortable metal backing while Castiel sat stiffly in his seat, scanning the room carefully before looking across at Dean.

"I don't sense any demons here," he stated.

Dean leaned forward again, resting his arms on the table between them. "No, we don't think the demon's actually here. But we were told that he sends his cronies here."

"'Cronies'?" Castiel asked blankly.

"Subjects, tools, whatever you wanna call 'em," Dean continued. "Anyway, they're humans, and they're willingly following the demon. They come here, they scope out unsuspecting men, and they bring them back to the demon's… I don't know… lair, where he eats them or… whatever."

"You don't seem to have a lot of details about this demon," Castiel observed, pinning Dean with his steady gaze.

Dean was spared answering as Sam joined them, taking a seat as he carefully set their drinks in front of each of them. Dean looked down at his and Cas' cups of dark, rich-looking coffee, then at Sam's cup that was definitely not emitting steam and had a whipped cream topping drizzled with what looked like chocolate syrup. He looked up at Sam.

"What?" Sam asked defensively, pulling his cool cup closer and self-consciously sipping the icy beverage through a straw.

"Nothing at all, Zoolander," he muttered before turning back to Castiel. "Look, Cas, we know we have crap to go on, here, which is why we need your help. A lot of demons know about Sam and me, so we need a fresh face. Someone in here is working for that… abomination, and we need to find out who."

"That man in the corner does look suspicious," Castiel said, squinting at a man in a blue turtleneck sitting by a window across the shop, a book propped open in front of him.

Dean stared at Castiel. "Did you hear a word I said? I said they were looking for unsuspecting MEN to bring to the demon."

"Dean, we can't assume the demon isn't counting on any gay men coming into the shop," Sam said with a smirk.

Dean gave him a deadly glare.

"Yes," Castiel agreed. "We should make no assumptions. I will speak with him." He started to stand, but Dean caught his arm, pulling him back into his seat.

"It's women, okay? Women are working for the demon," he said gruffly.

"Oh, we're sure it's women, now?" Sam said, taking a sip of his drink as he smiled smugly at his brother.

"Yes," Dean snapped. "Bobby called. He said—look, it doesn't matter, it's women 'cause I say it is! Are we all on the same page, now?!" Sam shrugged, his lips twitching, and Castiel simply frowned, watching Dean. Dean leaned forward, lowering his voice again. "Now, the plan is to charm one of his cronies—"

"His subjects?"

"Yes, damn it, Cas, his subjects!" Dean snapped before taking a steadying breath. "We have to charm one of them and convince them that we're worth taking home to the demon."

"How are we going to do that?" Castiel asked.

"By being charming and charismatic," Dean said with a smile. "We don't know which of these women might be working for the demon, so we've gotta see who will be willing to take us home."

"To the demon," Castiel added.

"To the demon," Dean confirmed with a nod.

"All right," Castiel said, looking out across the shop again. "Who should we start with?"

Dean squinted, scanning the room until he found a girl sitting by herself, a tablet on the table in front of her and a hot chocolate in her hand. "There," he pointed. "Charm her pants off, Cas."

Castiel looked at him blankly. "Why would I want her pants to come off?"

Dean closed his eyes as Sam snorted into his drink. "Just… just go check her out, Cas," Dean said encouragingly, opening his eyes with a smile. "You've got this."

With a nod, Castiel stood from his stool and made his way stiffly to where the girl sat.

"Are you sure about this?" Sam asked in concern as he turned with Dean to watch. "I mean, the guy has no people skills."

"That's the point," Dean replied. "Bastard needs to learn there's some things he just can't do."

They watched as Castiel stopped next to the girl's table and she looked up at him curiously.

"I would like for you to take me home," they heard him say clearly.

Dean snickered into his hand and Sam groaned helplessly. They watched as the girl stared at Castiel in shock.

"Five bucks says she slaps him," Dean said excitedly.

"I don't have five bucks," Sam replied.

"Yeah, you do, I checked your wallet this morning."

Sam turned and frowned at him.

"Well, aren't you the cutest thing?" They stared in shock as the girl put down her cup and gestured for Castiel to sit with her.

"What the hell?" Dean asked. Sam shook his head in bewilderment.

"What's your name?" they heard the girl ask him.

"Castiel."

"What an exotic name," the woman said, smiling at him with interest. "Where are you from?"

"I'm from Heav—"

"Cas!" Dean called quickly, scowling as he waved Castiel over.

Castiel excused himself from the woman and went back to their table, taking his seat again. "I don't think she works for a demon," he stated. "She lives with her mom and four cats and is paying her own way through college to be a veterinarian because she hit a dog with her car four years ago."

"What the hell was that?" Dean asked, glaring at him. "I said charming and charismatic, not… weird and stalker-y!"

Sam cast him a sideways look.

"Was my performance not adequate?" Castiel asked.

"No, your performance was not adequate," Dean snapped. "You gotta go in like James Bond. Be mysterious. Make them WANT to take you home. You can't just… state your intentions. That's creepy."

"Yeah, 'cause being dishonest and shady isn't creepy, at all," Sam muttered.

"I don't understand," Castiel stated. "If I don't tell them I want them to take me home to their demon master, how will they know to?"

"You have to let them think it's their idea," Dean explained patiently. "They might think we're on to them if we say it outright like that. You gotta let them know you're interested without making them suspicious."

"Yes," Castiel said with a slow nod. "I see what you mean. We can't give the demon warning that we're coming."

"Exactly," Dean agreed. "Now, let's try again. But we're gonna try something different, because whatever you were doing definitely wasn't working."

The girl with the hot chocolate came over to their table, smiling at Castiel. "Call me sometime," she said, setting a folded napkin in front of him before turning and walking out of the shop.

Castiel lifted the napkin and opened it as Dean and Sam stared. "It has a series of numbers on it," Castiel said, holding the phone number up for them to see. "Is it some sort of code?"

Dean snatched the napkin and balled it up angrily, glaring at Sam. "This doesn't change anything," he said, pointing at his brother before tossing the napkin over his shoulder. "Okay, Try Number Two," he said, scanning the shop again. He smiled as he spotted a pair of women seated across from each other, both in neat suits and heels and speaking with business-like efficiency. "Them," he said, pointing them out to Castiel. "Everything about them screams 'I love demons'."

"I suppose…" Castiel said doubtfully.

"Hey, demon worshippers come in all shapes and sizes," Dean said, spreading his hands. "We can't make any assumptions, right?"

"Right," Castiel agreed.

"Now, this time, let's try something different," Dean murmured, leaning in close. "Walk up to them and say, 'Hey, hot mommas. Daddy's got something in his briefcase just for you.' Then wink."

Sam stared at him. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, I am," Dean said grimly. "We have to stop this demon at all costs, right, Cas?"

"Will that really work?" Castiel asked, unsure.

"Trust me. They'll think you're hitting on them, and they'll be ready to take you home to meet Daddy Demon in a flash."

Castiel nodded, then squared his shoulders and stood again, walking to the women's table with purpose.

"Another five says this definitely gets him slapped."

"If the first one didn't, this one won't," said Sam. "You're on."

They watched again as Castiel approached the table and stopped, standing awkwardly next to it as the two women looked up at him in confusion.

"Hey, hot mommas," they heard him say without expression. "Daddy's got something in his briefcase just for you."

They knew he winked because his whole head moved as he did it.

"Nice, Cas," Dean said with a grin as Sam shook his head pityingly.

A long moment passed before the women looked at each other and started laughing hysterically.

"You're hilarious!" one of them said, wiping the corner of her eyes with a napkin. "Here, have a seat…"

The brothers watched in horror as Castiel pulled a third chair to the side of their table, sitting stiffly as their laughter dwindled to helpless giggles. They started talking to him, their eyes lit with charmed smiles at his blunt, naïve replies to their questions. Dean scratched his head.

"There's no way in hell that should've worked," he said through gritted teeth. "No one buys that cute and charming crap, especially with a line like that!"

"Yeah… pay up," Sam said distractedly, watching Castiel as he held out his hand to Dean. Dean sighed and pulled out his wallet, slapping a five dollar bill into Sam's palm. "And the five from before," Sam said without looking. Dean cast him a surly glance before giving him another five.

"Unbelievable," Dean muttered. "I bet I could pull that off." Sam gave him a dubious look. "Well, if he can, I can!" he insisted. "Screw this…" Angrily straightening his jacket and giving his neck a good crack, he put on his best smile and walked over to the girl behind the counter. "Hey, hot momma," Sam heard him say. "Daddy's got something in his briefcase just for you."

Sam imagined how conspicuous he would be if he crawled under the table and just stayed there. He watched as the woman stared back at his brother, completely unamused.

"Would you like some coffee, sir?" she asked shortly.

Dean's smile faltered and faded. "Uh… yeah…. Just a small decaf, please," he mumbled awkwardly.

She walked away and carelessly poured the very last of a pot of coffee into a cup, filling it only two thirds of the way, then walked back to him and half-dropped it on the counter in front of him so that it sloshed over the side. She walked away without offering cream or sugar, and Dean winced, gingerly lifting the sopping cup and walking back to their table.

"At least she didn't charge me," he said defensively in response to Sam's stare.

"Yeah," Sam replied with a nod. "Bright side."

"All right, we gotta seriously step up our game, here," Dean growled, glaring at Castiel as the two women laughed at something the angel said. "This isn't going at all the way we planned. He needs a good dose of rejection."

"Okay," Sam said with a sigh. "I've got an idea. If this doesn't work, nothing will."

"You're our last hope, Sammy," Dean said, making a face as he wiped the sides of his second coffee cup. "Make that bastard pay."

"Cas," Sam called across the shop, waving at the angel to come back.

Castiel excused himself again before coming back to the table and taking his seat next to Sam. "They gave me more of those numbers," he said, holding up two coffee shop receipts, each with phone numbers written on the back of them. "Are you sure they're not a code of some sort? Maybe they're trying to communicate something to us—"

Dean snatched the receipts out of his hand and shredded them in half, then into quarters, then into smaller and smaller pieces, his eyes wide with manic purpose, until there were only confetti-like bits of paper covering the table. He stopped, breathing heavily, and Sam gave him a concerned look. Castiel picked up two of the small pieces and held them up, frowning at them, then up at Dean.

"You ripped my numbers."

Dean pointed at Castiel, opening his mouth angrily, but Sam interjected before it could get ugly. "He's just frustrated because we're not getting anywhere with the demon followers," he said quickly, smiling at Castiel. "We don't think we're trying hard enough."

"Okay," Castiel said, looking at Sam. "What more can we do?"

"Well, there's one last thing we can try," Sam said, half-glancing at Dean. "It's like candy for demon followers. They can't resist it."

"Go on," Castiel said urgently.

"We can… expose ourselves to them."

Dean stared.

"I don't understand," Castiel said with a frown. "Tell them we're hunting the demon?"

"No, not that kind of exposure," Sam explained. "We still need them to take us to the demon. The best way to do that is to make no pretenses about what we want. So we… expose our…. man parts."

"Our… man parts….?" Castiel asked before slowly looking down at his pants.

"Yes," Sam nodded. "Demon followers love it. If there's a demon follower in here today, this will definitely fish them out."

"So I just…" Castiel said slowly.

"Walk up," Dean put in, casting Sam a quick smirk, "unbuckle your belt, and pull down your pants. Easiest thing in the world."

"That seems… unclean," Castiel said hesitantly.

"Well, that's why demons and their followers love it," Sam said quickly. "Sometimes, we have to make ourselves a little uncomfortable to get the important stuff done. And this is important." He put his hand on Castiel's shoulder, feeling stupid. "Lives are at stake, Cas."

"Yeah, Cas," Dean added. "Who cares about showing your wiener when you're purging the world of an abomination, right?"

"I suppose so," Castiel agreed, nodding. "I'll do it. The sooner this demon is gone, the better."

"Right," Dean said with a grin. "Your targets… that table, right there." He pointed at a table where two women sat chatting over their coffees, both looking to be in their sixties.

"Dean…" Sam started uncertainly.

"Hey, demons and demon 'subjects' can be anyone, anywhere," Dean said, appealing to Castiel. "For all we know, they've killed hundreds of people. They've gotta be stopped. Now go, Cas. Save all those innocent lives."

Castiel took a deep breath and left the table a third time.

"This is perfect, Sammy," Dean muttered, clapping him on the shoulder. "Fifty if he doesn't get slapped this time."

"This is going to backfire on us somehow," Sam said, shaking his head. "We've taken it too far. I think we're underestimating him."

"No way," Dean said excitedly. "Not this time. This time, we've got 'im."

They watched Castiel walk across to the far corner of the shop, out of earshot. He approached the table with the older women, who looked up at him with pleasant smiles. They watched as Castiel stopped next to them, pulled open his trench coat, fumbled with his belt for a moment, then finally managed to get his pants down. He stood, arms akimbo as he held the trench coat wide open for them to see.

The women's faces were masks of horror. Dean was already laughing. "Get ready to pay up, Sammy," he said to his brother, thrilled that his plan had finally worked. The entire coffee shop was now staring at the oblivious angel, standing in all his glory.

One of the women said something to Castiel, and he responded, though they couldn't hear the words. She said something else, and he turned and pointed directly at Sam and Dean. Dean instantly tried to stop laughing, realizing something was going wrong.

"Oh, no," Sam mumbled.

The two women stood from their table, one of them putting her hand on Castiel's arm as he zipped his pants and refastened his belt. They marched him over to Sam and Dean's table, their looks of outrage terrible to behold. Sam and Dean stood as they approached.

"I am so—" began Sam, but he was interrupted by the echoing slap as one of the women's hands connected with the side of his face.

"You should be ashamed of yourselves!" she said angrily, glaring at the pair of them. "Getting a mentally challenged man to expose himself just for your amusement!"

"Mentally challenged?!" Dean repeated incredulously.

The other woman promptly threw the remaining bit of her still-hot coffee into his face. Dean gasped in shock and pain.

"Taking advantage of someone who can't stand up for himself is just disgusting!" the second woman said scathingly. "You two have a lot to answer for!" She turned to Castiel, patting him gently on the arm. "If I were you, I'd find some new friends," she said kindly.

Giving the brothers one last livid glance, they turned and stormed out of the coffee shop in a huff. Sam and Dean stood unmoving for a long moment, every occupant of the shop staring at them.

"About that fifty…"

"Not now, Sam."

"I think our cover is blown," Castiel said, glancing around the shop.

"Yeah," Sam said, rubbing his red cheek. He and Dean cleared off their table, dropping their cups into the nearby garbage can.

"At least he didn't get hit on for that last one," Dean muttered as they walked with Castiel to the door.

A woman in her late twenties reached the door at the same time they did. Having seen Castiel's shameless display, she looked up at him with a wicked smile.

"I like what you're packing down there," she said with a wink as she slid a folded napkin into his trench coat pocket. "Let me know the next time you wanna whip it out." She reached down between his legs and gave him a vulgar squeeze before turning and going through the door.

Castiel looked down at his pants, then up at Dean, his cheeks turning slightly red. "She touched my man-part."

Sam quickly led the way out of the shop and back to the Impala. Fuming, Dean fumbled with his keys as he wiped the remnants of the coffee off of his face with his sleeve. Castiel reached into his pocket and pulled out the folded napkin.

"It's another one of those codes—"

Dean grabbed the napkin and threw it on the pavement, stomping on it repeatedly and scuffing it with his foot until almost nothing remained of it. He glared at Castiel for a long moment before wrenching open the driver's door and climbing in, slamming it closed.

"Is it too late to catch the demon?" Castiel asked, looking over at Sam.

Sam gave him a small smile, shaking his head. "Don't worry about the demon, Cas. We've got it."

"All right," Castiel said with a nod. "Well… call for me if you need any more help. That was quite… invigorating."

He disappeared, the faint sound of fluttering feathers drifting away on the wind. Sam sighed and climbed into the passenger side of the Impala. He and Dean sat for a moment, staring ahead at the coffee shop windows.

"You know what, Sammy?" Dean said at last. "I really hate angels."