The Little Pine Truck Stop – Home of Henry the Bear, Mitchell, OR – 11:08AM, Pacific Standard Time
Total miles traveled: 0
Dean doesn't know why he should be surprised to see a bear at a gas station, but he is. The bear's name is Henry, which he secretly thinks it's a silly name for an 800-pound animal. He thinks the bear should be named Axel, or Mick, or… something tough. That is, he does until Hugh Reed, the pump owner, opens the door to the two-story cage and moseys in to feed the bear a cookie. Dean decides Henry is an appropriate name as he cranes his head a bit to watch the bear take the cookie with a grumbling sniff that reminds him of Chewbacca. Hugh is a bear himself; hulking, with a grizzled beard like a mountain man. It suits him, Dean thinks. He also thinks Hugh has balls of fucking steel to march his seventy-something year old ass into that cage on a daily basis when Henry looks like would as soon bite off Hugh's hand as he would devour a box of Oreos.
Thing is, Henry does no such thing and in fact lets that long tongue of his loll out to lick the crumbs from Hugh's palms. "Balls of fucking steel," Dean mutters, grudgingly impressed.
"I doubt that that man has 'balls of steel'," says Castiel, appearing suddenly beside him. "It would not be conducive to reproduction."
Dean didn't hear Cas walk up. That bothers him. He turns slightly and watches as Castiel takes a bite out of a Twinkie, looking ruminative for a second before finishing it off in another large bite. He looks like he can't decide whether or not he likes it. Dean doesn't blame him.
"That shit will kill you," he says in reply, rolling his eyes and trying not to look as Cas sucks the crème off of one finger with a long pull from knuckle to tip. Dean feels a bit like a lecher even thinking the action lewd but there he is, watching slightly dumbfounded as Cas repeats the action four more times, unaware of the blatant innuendo. "Um, do you want a napkin or anything?" Dean asks, irritated by how uncomfortable watching Cas has made him.
Castiel shakes his head and looks over his shoulder as Sam comes walking up with two coffees. Dean takes the offered coffee and pops the lid to check: double cream, double sugar. Sam rolls his eyes, taking a careful sip from his own – black – and turns slightly to watch Hugh exit Henry's cage.
"Alright Cas," says Dean, his expression hardening as he catches Castiel's eye and holds it, "so now would be the time to tell us why you had us drive all the way out to the boonies, to see some old guy's pet bear."
"This is Oregon, Dean, not the 'boonies', Dean," Castiel says in reply, though his features are settled into an expression of utmost gravity. "I wanted to tell you and Sam that we must go on a trip across the country to visit the world's largest chocolate moose," he continues without preamble.
Dean spits out a mouthful of coffee... right onto Sam's shirt. Sam lets out an undignified sputter, which Dean doesn't hear. He's too busy staring at Cas like he's just grown a pair of rabbit ears. Something that might be annoyance passes over him as he watches Cas reach into his pocket and pull out a wad of napkins, which he then hands to Sam, but Dean's too stunned to acknowledge it. He waits for an answer. A few seconds of stunned silence pass, before Dean asks, "What?"
"We must go on… I believe you would call it a 'road trip', to see the world's largest chocolate moose." When Dean doesn't reply, Castiel adds, "It's in Maine."
Behind Castiel, Sam, who had been dabbing violently at the coffee stain on his shirt, stops suddenly and looks up quickly, as if gauging Dean's reaction. Dean gives his brother a significant look, but strangely, Sam only looks away and resumes dabbing a sopping napkin at his shirt, distractedly.
"Oh this is rich," mutters Dean. He looks closely at the angel, but there is no guile in Castiel's eyes. "Why do we have to go on this road trip with you?" he asks. "Can't you just 'poof' there and call us when you're done?"
"The battle at Four Corners drained much of my power," Castiel says, finally breaking Dean's gaze and looking away, "I cannot travel as I used to. Until I am back to full strength, I am stuck using your human mode of transport." He drops his eyes to the Impala, meaningfully.
Sam gives up on his shirt. "So did," Sam asks, before pausing to looks at Dean, "you... you know?" At Castiel's blank look, Sam asks, "Did you fall? Are you… human now?|"
Castiel shakes his head. "No, I retain my Grace." he replies. "You could say that I need to 'recharge my battery.'"
"Well that's great, Cas," Dean says sarcastically, "I'll pay for your bus ticket and you can recharge on the way. Thanks, but no thanks." He turns away from Castiel when he feels a hand on his elbow. A jolt travels up his arm to his shoulder, making his fingers twitch before he can stop them. "What?" he grinds out.
"God has commanded me to go," says Castiel seriously, as if that should explain everything. In a way, Dean supposes it does. He sees Sam swing around to look at him, though his expression isn't so much incredulous as it is curious.
"Really Cas, God told you to go and see the biggest chocolate moose in the world?" says Dean, not bothering to keep the disbelief from his tone.
"Yes," says Castiel, dropping his hand, "it's in Scarborough."
"Right, Scarborough. Well ain't that just wicked good."
"There is nothing wicked about chocolate or moose."
"Look, just because you heard a voice--"
"God."
"--doesn't mean that we have to go traipsing across the country -"
"Dean," says Sam, speaking up, trying to cut across his brother's words.
"--because you think that you heard God tell you to take a stupid road trip. And even if you—"
"Dean."
"--really did hear God speak to you, that doesn't mean that we have to--"
"DEAN!" Sam bellows, loudly enough that his voice carries across the parking lot drawing a few curious looks from some of the bystanders loitering by Henry's cage. In the cage, Henry vocalizes his displeasure with a rumbly grumble.
"What, Sam?" acknowledges Dean finally, exasperation clearly stitched into his tone.
"I think we should go."
"See Cas – wait, what? Excuse me?" says Dean, rounding on his brother. "What do you mean, 'we should go'?"
"I think he wants to see the chocolate moose, Dean," says Castiel, glancing at Sam, "I hear it's very life-like."
"So you guys have talked?" says Dean, suddenly suspicious. From the guilty look that Sam gives Castiel and Castiel's affirmative nod, he knows he's right.
"Well, sorta," hedges Sam. "I just think, given the circumstances and everything that has happened, it couldn't hurt."
"So you have talked." Dean's voice is low, dangerous, and quiet. Sam takes a step back. Castiel, however, moves forward into his personal space.
"This is as much for me as it is for you," he says, his face too close, as he fixes Dean with a stare that burns him. Then, he places his hand on Dean's arm again. "Please Dean, my Father wishes for me to go to Maine and you are the only one I trust to bring me there."
Dean's resolve wavers. He curses and yanks his arm from Cas' grip. The air is charged; they're waiting for his answer. "Fine," he concedes at last, giving the Impala a critical once-over. "I've gotta put some air in her tires, get some supplies and we'll head out in 15 minutes."
Sam releases a sigh of relief and wanders over to Henry's cage, clearly wishing to avoid any further interaction with his brother right then. Sam always was the smart one. Castiel lingers, watching Dean intently for a minute or so as Dean frowns down into his coffee, his brow creased in frustration. Castiel gives him a smile that looks out of place alongside the discontented expression Dean's wearing. "Thank you," he says.
"Whatever Cas," Dean replies with forced nonchalance, unable to decide how or if he should accept the smile or the thanks. "Just know that if my baby breaks down along the way, God owes me a new car."
