A/N: Hello! Thank you all for reading, reviewing, following, and everything else! Here's another chapter. Just FYI, they'll be a bit short for a bit and then they should get a bit longer.

I hope you enjoy this chapter and don't forget to tell me what you think!

On Dean's twenty-third birthday, he woke up and went to work, after, of course, he received a call from Bobby congratulating him on not dying for another year, and three voice messages from Sam singing to him with Jess. Dean liked Jess, she was good for Sammy and she was just a plain good woman. He just wished they'd stop dancing around each other and go out. It was sickening how shy Sam was around her.

Dean arrived at work on time and began working on one of the first cars of the day. It was simple, just an oil change and he rolled his eyes at the businessman who had brought it in and told him to be careful with the interior. He wasn't even going to touch the interior. Where did this man think the oil was, in the glove compartment?

After that particularly annoying encounter, business was slow, it was always slow on weekdays, but with the note still weighing heavily in his mind, everything just seemed to drag on. He could feel something was going on today, maybe it was the weather, or the way the back of his neck tingled when he turned his back to the window. He didn't know why, but he could feel it.

Around noon, the same blonde man that had handed him the note appeared outside the garage and sat on the bench in front of the window. Dean continued to take costumers and stick his head in the engines, but he did so distractedly. The blonde man didn't do anything, he just sat on the bench and watched as people walked by.

Finally, the shop was closing and his shift was over and Dean ran out to the front, only to find the man was gone. He walked a few blocks in both directions, searching for any signs of where the man had gone, but found none. He sighed, dejected. Maybe the man had just been his imagination or wishful thinking. He turned to walk back to the shop, shoulders slumped.

"Looking for me?" a British voice asked from behind. Dean jumped and turned to see the man who had been sitting on the bench, standing behind him. He approached Dean, who tensed despite himself and even backed away a few steps. The man grabbed him by the arm and jerked him close. "I want you to head straight home, do not stop anywhere and follow the instructions on this paper." Dean could feel the man slip something into his pocket. "Follow them down to the letter and you might not mess this up." Then the man was gone. Dean would never admit it, but he ran home.

He half expected to see someone there when he opened the door, but was relieved to find his apartment empty. After locking the door behind him, Dean fished the paper out of his pocket and unfolded it. There were symbols scrawled in ink across the top of the paper and a note underneath. "Write these on the walls. Line the door and windows with salt. Don't call anyone or answer your phone. Unplug your T.V. and radio." It didn't say who is was from, but it was in the same handwriting he'd seen on Gabriel's other note, so he followed the directions carefully. Luckily he already knew half of the symbols on the note, thanks to Bobby's careful coaching.

Dean didn't sleep that night. He sat, shoulders stiff, on his sofa in his apartment, sawed off shotgun in one hand and a book in the other, reading silently. He knew that a shotgun full of rock salt was probably not going to do him much good, but John had the only angel blade. Hopefully he was actually getting Cas back and not setting himself up to get screwed.

Dean was snapped out of his light dozing when there was a knock on his door. When had he fallen asleep? He jerked upward from his slumped position, eyes locking with the door. He pulled his shotgun close and crept to it, peeking out through the peep hole to see none other than Gabriel standing there looking thoroughly disheveled with someone or something slung over his shoulder. It was hard to tell, as it was covered with dark colored fabric. Dean's heart jumped into his throat and he tugged open the door.

"Hey, Dean." Gabriel said shakily, letting himself in. Dean moved out of the way as he pulled the something in with him and deposited it on the couch. He turned to Dean who was in the process of locking the door. "I got him." he said simply with a grin and then vanished.

Dean didn't need any other words though, he rushed to the cloaked figure on his couch and tugged the fabric away, revealing a sleeping or unconscious, dark haired man. Dean leaned in close, examining the man's face. He had aged, but this was definitely Cas. From the disheveled hair, to the slight droop of his eyes, to the shape of his chin, Dean knew without a doubt this was Castiel, the angel from his childhood, his protector. In awe, Dean placed his hands on either side of Castiel's face and placed his forehead to Cas'.

"Come on, Cas… Time to wake up." Dean whispered. He could feel the breath from Cas' nose rush softly against his skin. "Cas," he called. When Castiel didn't respond, Dean sat up and rubbed the back of his neck. "On second thought, I'm glad you didn't wake up with that. You're not a Disney princess..." he muttered. Instead, he hazarded a few small slaps to Cas' cheek, but the angel didn't stir, seemingly in a deep, peaceful sleep. Dean knew from when they were children, that sometimes Castiel slept and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't wake him up. It was usually when Castiel was super tired from protecting him. So Dean let him sleep, maybe Castiel had to expend a lot of energy to escape. He stared at him for a while, completely mesmorized by the sudden appearance of his childhood protector. It seemed angels had a habit of appearing suddenly and unexpectedly.

He stood from his place beside the couch, casually realizing how creepy that had just been and deciding to tell no one, even under the worst torture that he had done it and meandered his way to the bedroom. He stubbed his toe absently on an end table, making a shout, but Castiel didn't seem to notice, still sleeping away. He returned a few minutes later with a bundle full of blankets and pillows. He shoved one pillow under Castiel's head, his couch wasn't the softest thing in the world, and then gave him an extra blanket, before making a bed next to the angel on the floor. He didn't plan to sleep, oh no, he had to watch over Cas, but that didn't mean he couldn't be comfortable. He gathered his book from the coffee table and started reading again, listening to the soft sounds of Castiel's deep breathing and feeling safer and warmer than he had since Castiel had first left.

TBC...