All right-y, you guys! :D A long awaited Destiel story! Firstly and most importantly, thank you SO SO SO incredibly much Countess Impossible! You are a constant source of inspiration and support and in such a short time we have become so close! This is written for you, through and through~BFF! Their first meeting was a little more intense than I wanted, but I guess you can't stop the loooove :3 This story, in case you hadn't noticed, is inspired by the song 'Something to Talk About' by Bonnie Raitt :) As you can tell, I've changed it a little bit- Enjoy!


Chapter One~ Fate


Dean had been waiting for Sam to show up for two days now. Normally, he would have been worried; but since Sam had called and assured him that he was okay and only going to be a little late, he was just pissed off. It sucked that he had to waste his time wandering around some hick town in Virginia. Especially when they had a fresh case waiting! But they had split up after the last one to take some time off and get their shit together.

Since Dean had sold his soul to bring Sam back, they were kind of off their game. But all they needed was time; to collect themselves, to re-sharpen their skills. All things considered, it was going well. No one had died; at least no one that hadn't deserved to. And both boys physically unscathed. Emotionally... there were some unresolved issues. But it wasn't anything that couldn't be shoved aside until it actually became a problem.

So, for now, Dean was stuck in a sort of limbo. Waiting for Sam with absolutely nothing to do. What a wonderful time to stir shit up. Unfortunately, this town was deader than the last ghost they had 'put to rest'. But since Sam had rejected the idea of staying put until Dean came to get him, he was trapped here.

The town wasn't too bad. But the people were all cold shoulders, lofty glances, and drawled whispers. You would think that Dean wouldn't stand out that much, but here he stuck out like a very loud, very rowdy thumb.

The hotel he was checked into was cheap- definitely cheap- and boasted no impressive aspects. The carpet was stained and curling up at the edges, the wallpaper was torn, and the lights flickered; due to bad wiring, Dean made it a point to check.

On his first day there, he was nearly dissuaded by the shocking amount of roaches hiding beneath the bed. But he had no choice. He had to wait for Sam. And wait he would; but if Sam expected him to still be here, he had better hurry up.

It was Dean's second night in the rundown building. He was almost ready to give in and move to a different location. Even a cleaner one would suffice. But where?

He stood in the hotel lobby, leaning against the wall, pretending to read the newspaper. It was last week's and full of bland news stories and boring events. What was it with small town people? Didn't they have any idea how to live?

Not that he wouldn't jump at the chance to bed a country girl. But then... he was going to Hell. Sure, he could do anything he pleased; but what about them? Could you still go to Heaven after sleeping with a damned man? It didn't seem likely. Maybe it was just better not to risk anyone else's soul...

Dean was so consumed in his own thoughts that he missed the entrance of a solemn dark haired man. The man made his way to the front desk and uttered his inquiry in a low smooth voice. The young clerk seemed enamored by him as he replied with a nervous chirp.

The man nodded his head once and turned to walk down the hallway. It was then that Dean looked up, catching only a glimpse at the back of a trenchcoat. His eyebrow lifted in muted interest. He had seen several unusual outfits, but this was the first time he saw anyone wearing a trenchcoat in Summer. Probably some freak with a fetish about to get some action.

He returned to staring blandly at the newspaper. A nagging curiosity kept drawing his attention away, but the hallway was still empty when he looked up again.

A few minutes later, he was suprised by the abrupt appearance of a tall handsome man. The trenchcoat quickly identified him as the person Dean had seen before.

Dean quirked an eyebrow, taking in every detail about this man. From the confident, collected way he stood to the gentle motion of his stride. He held his head high and seemed uninterested in what was going on around him. His eyes were an electric ghostly blue framed by dark lashes. There was a shadow of stubble on his strong jawline. The way his face was portrayed, although his demeanor was cool, Dean could easily imagine what it would look like if he smiled. The image almost lured out a smile of his own.

The man slowed to a stop in the middle of the room. He suddenly looked over at Dean.

The hunter lowered his eyes immediately to the newspaper. His hair wasn't long enough to cover the crimson blush that rose wickedly on his cheeks. His skin was on fire with embarrassment; though he wasn't sure why. It wasn't like he had been checking the man out. He was just... observing. In an overly interested leery way.

Dean was burning holes into the paper with his pointed gaze. He could still see the slim brunette in his peripheral. He just stood there, staring at Dean inquisitively. Then a cocky smugness slipped over his features and he grinned. He turned and walked briskly to the doors, making his exit.

Dean let out a deep breath that he didn't know he was holding. His heart hammered in his chest and he tried to regain his composure. That was so strange. What was it about this man that made him so nervous?

There was just something, something in his eyes, that made it feel like the world was tipping over. Dean had never felt that way before. No one person had ever made him feel like gravity had vanished and left him grasping for something to hold on to.

A hint of white made him vaguely aware of a scrap of paper lying on the floor. He walked over and bent down to pick it up. He blinked and tried to focus on what it said. It was a brochure, for a hotel less than ten miles from here. A better motel, with only slightly higher prices and infinitely better living conditions.

He peered at the brochure in wonder. Was it fate? That had to be it. After all, what were the odds that a map of exactly what he wanted would land at his feet? Who knows, maybe that man had been a messenger of the Lord.

Dean's smile lit up his whole countenance. He wasted no time in returning to his room and packing his suitcase; pausing only to shake the roaches out of a shirt he had unwisely left on the floor. He checked out that night and drove to the other hotel. Sure it cost a bit more, but it was worth it not to have to spend the rest of his waiting in torment. And besides, something exciting might even happen.


It was late when Dean arrived at his new location, so he didn't meet hardly anyone as he checked in and went in search of his room.
This place was better by leaps and bounds than most of the other craphole hotels he had stayed in. Even the aura of the place was different. Orange-ish and... warm. It was a refreshing change from the drearily haunted life he was used to.

It seemed like only a few precious minutes of dozing, but before he knew it, it was morning and time to get up. He pulled the pillow over his head and groaned at the stream of sunlight sliding into the room from the open window.

Outside there was a mix of cars starting up and driving off and birds calling out to each other from the tree tops. The stuttering roar of a truck's engine made Dean smile to himself. There really was no comparison to the subtle purr of his Impala. It was hands down the most beatiful vehicle he had ever seen. And so much more than that; it was a piece of his and Sam's childhood. Countless memories were held inside that car. Everything from innocent acts of vandalism to the not so innocent bouts of love making which he would never admit to Sam.

But, whether he liked it or not, it was time to get up. He groaned, pushing the blankets back, and yawned once before standing. Then he scratched his head and walked to the bathroom, sluggishly dragging his feet.

His steps were much higher when he emerged, freshly showered and fully dressed. His wet hair stuck out at odd angles, but the look strangely suited him. A long low rumble from his stomach sent him to the door, in search of breakfast; on his way out, he grabbed his jacket and keys.

Dean whistled as he sauntered down the hallway, ignoring the looks people gave him. So what if it was a bit loud, he could whistle indoors if he wanted to. He was in a surprisingly good mood; whistling was practically called for.

His thoughts turned briefly to the dark haired man he had seen the night before. Did he have a room here? Would Dean get to see him again? Not that it mattered either way, it was just innocent curiosity.
So why did the thought of never seeing him again make Dean's bright mood lessen a bit?

Ahead of him the elevator doors opened and he ran to slip in before they closed. Oddly enough, there was no one in the elevator or waiting to get on. So who had pushed the button?

Dean shrugged it off and rode blissfully down to the first floor. It didn't take very long, even though he was on the next to top floor; the hotel was only four stories high.

The elevator stopped at the second floor and a young woman got on. They rode down in silence, Dean beaming and her glancing over awkwardly. He asked himself again what was wrong with these people. All the suspicion, none of the fun.

They both exited on the bottom floor and parted ways. Dean burst through the front doors and into the sunlight, spreading his arms wide. Despite the meager amount of sleep, he felt wonderfully renewed. Sunshine bright and ready to take on anything.

There was a lovely little restaurant nearby and he wasted no time in claiming a booth and ordering enough to feed at least three people.

While shoveling food in his mouth he didn't notice the figure sitting at a table near him, watching with a frown. The onlooker rested his elbows on the table, folded his hands, placed his chin upon them. He watched with an amused fascination as Dean ate every single bite that was laid out in front of him. Then he took a sip of too sweetened coffee and stood to leave.

Meanwhile, Dean pushed back the wadded up wrappers and napkins and wondered over what he should do that day. This town was still as void of activities as it had been the day before, but Dean's outlook made it seem better, full of opportunities. He knew he didn't want to spend the day researching and tracking down a hunt. He didn't want to call Sam and whine about him not being there yet. Maybe he could going swimming... Bird watching, driving back roads, ...jogging. Man, was there nothing that didn't make him seem like a hick?

He finally resolved to return to the hotel and watch TV. Maybe not the outdoor activity this sunny day deserved, but he could open a window or something. A cool breeze, a cold beer, and an uninterrupted day of splendidly trashy movies. What more could he ask for?

He payed for his food and walked slowly back, enjoying the warmth of the sunlight on his skin. It had been far too long since he'd had a chance to enjoy any peace like this. Since he had sold his soul, they were constantly fighting something, as if they were making full use of the time they had left.

But no... Dean had only a few months left before the hell hounds would come for him. And how was he spending his precious time? Battling evil, which was good; but he could be enjoying this time with his brother. They could be taking it easy, getting into mischief, and spending time making good memories instead of risking their lives daily. This reprieve was a welcome change to the bullshit that was their lives. So why couldn't they just have this time to be happy for what little time they had left; why couldn't he even be granted that? Hadn't he done enough to deserve something good? Even if it would all end soon, he would take whatever positive thing came along and he would savor it, until his time here came to an end; that was a promise.

Finally, back at the hotel, Dean pressed the button and waited for the elevator. When the doors opened he got the shock of his life.

Facing him was the raven haired man from the night before; the one he was worried he would never see again. No, not worried. Just curious. There was no harm in curiosity.

Both men stared at the other, eyes wide, frozen in surprise. The elevator made a noise and the doors started to slide shut, but the man's arm shot up and held it open.

His eyes narrowed and he demanded, "Are you stalking me?"

Dean blinked. Stalking? He hadn't been stalking him. He didn't even know he was here; although considering his discovery of the brochure, that was a pretty immature assumption to make.

The man stared at him accusingly. Considering how threatening he looked right now, a person would have to be crazy to try and cross him. Dean wasn't that crazy. But he was that ridiculously defensive. He bristled and stood up as straight as he could, trying to intimidate the other man. It didn't seem to be working; his glare held.

Dean huffed and replied, "I'm not stalking you. I was just looking for a decent place to stay. And besides, you know how small this town is. I could have run into you anywhere, anytime. Or do you just automatically assume that every person you see more than once is a stalker?"

The man tilted his head and looked Dean up and down, making him squirm. Finally, he relaxed. "I guess not." He said. Then he took a step back, beckoning, and asked, "You getting in?"

Dean entertained the thought of passing this ride, but he decided that he had already been rude enough. Besides, it was easier to get it over with now. And he would be able to get to his room more quickly if he accepted. And he could spend a little more time with this strange man. Not that that was why he was doing it.

He stepped into the elevator and the man lowered his arm, letting the doors close. "What floor are you on?" The man asked, looking at Dean sideways. "Three." He answered instantly, before realizing that this man could actually be a psycho killer. After all, he knew nothing about him. Why oh why hadn't Dean waited until the man had gone up?

He caught a glimpse of the man's smile and couldn't help noticing that he pushed the '3' and then the '4' button. So he was on the floor above Dean. What an interesting tidbit of information that Dean would hold on to in case he was asked to deliver a message or something.

They stood side by side, facing forward, Dean's arms crossed and the man's hands folded behind his back. The silence that filled the elevator was only broken by the occasional unnerving creak from the cables pulling them up.

The man spoke up suddenly. "I'm sorry for that. I can be a bit paranoid at times." He said, "It's just the by-product of a messy home life; you're always looking over your shoulder."

Dean swallowed and nodded, unsure of how to answer. The man peered at him. "I'm Castiel, by the way." He said, extending a hand. Dean took his hand and shook it, struggling to find his voice. "Dean." Was all he managed. The man smiled and Dean felt his cheeks heat up. He released his hand and crossed his arms again, facing the door. This elevator ride was taking far too long already. His palm tingled from contact and he marveled at how soft and warm Castiel's hand was.

"So what brings you here?" Came the question from beside him. "I'm waiting for my brother." He answered quickly.

Castiel laughed suggestively, "I'll bet." Dean shot a look at him and Castiel's smile dropped. "Sorry." He ducked his head in atonement.

Just when Dean thought something had malfunctioned, the doors opened and he stepped out.

"How long are you staying?" Castiel inquired, making Dean turn back to look at him. "I don't know. Another day, maybe two?"

"Okay," Castiel flashed a smile, "Maybe I'll see you again."

Dean swallowed and licked his bottom lip nervously. "Yeah, maybe." He said. Then he turned around and walked down the hallway to his room. Once there, he looked back just in time to see Castiel's bright blue eyes disappear behind the elevator doors.

Odds are they would see each other again. Like Dean had said, it was a very small town.

Anything was possible.