Author's Note: Still on the path of revision. So enjoy! 3-7-2018

Chapter 2

Over the next few weeks Dean would visit the bakery often, at least two or three times a week. On this particular Saturday, Dean found himself plopped in a squishy arm chair in Gabriel's office beside Sam. The two of them were eating blueberry scones and drinking a new cinnamon latte that Gabriel had added to the menu. The owner was currently downstairs helping customers, leaving the two brothers to their privacy.

Sam was casting Dean furtive glances as his older brother took a generous drink of his latte. He closed his eyes and hummed pleasantly. "Spit it out, Sammy." He opened his eyes and smirked. "Got something on your mind?"

His brother gave him a sheepish look. "Am I that obvious?" Dean snorted and Sam chuckled nervously. "It's about Gabriel."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Is he bothering you, Sammy?" He clenched a fist around his mug. "'Cause I got no problem talking to that tiny twerp-,"

"Dean!" Sam chastised. His mouth snapped shut and he rubbed his lips together waiting for Sam to say something. "I just-," His younger brother twisted the mug in his hands uncomfortably. "Dean, he's an archangel."

The older Winchester fumbled and placed his mug on the table with a sharp 'clank'. "Come again?"

Sam cleared his throat and set his cup down as well. "He's an archangel." He said again, more calmly. "And I-," He bit his lip hesitantly. "I like him." He admitted. "A lot." He started blushing. "I-I'm pretty sure he's interested." He laughed. "He's pretty blatant with his flirting and he's over protective about anyone else who tries." He shrugged. "I just think there's potential and I just wanted you to know…" He trailed off uncertainly.

"Sam," Dean steeled. "Gabriel is an archangel. Pops always said that supernatural beings couldn't be trusted. An angel is no different than a demon-,"

"But that's not true!" Sam protested. "Gabriel is kind and caring. He's funny too! And compassionate, and supportive. He says that if I keep up the good work we can split the bakery 50|50!" He shook his head smiling. "I know that dad always said angels were bad, but he was wrong-,"

"What about Castiel?" The older Winchester interjected. "He comes down to the surface Sam and steals souls. Did you forget?"

"But Gabe isn't Castiel." Sam argued. "And he makes me happy, Dean."

A tense silence fell over them. Dean shifted his legs uncomfortably and leaned forward. His eyes were hard as he stared at the wooden desk in front of them. An angel? How could Sammy want to be with an angel? They had a plan. Dad had a plan. Sam was going to run a business, a company, hell- maybe even be a lawyer… but marry an angel? Come on that was just –

"I know you think it's crazy." Sam's voice was low and when Dean turned to fully face him, he found his brother staring down into his lap, a frown etched into his face. "But dad was wrong, Dean." The older Winchester still said nothing. "I'm happy - really, really happy! And I understand that's hard to grasp and if you don't want to talk to me anymore-,"

"Sam." He snapped his head up and was alarmed to see at the stern expression on Dean's face. "I would never stop talking to you. I just-," He ran his hand through his hair trying to find the right words. "I'm just surprised is all. I never expected you to get the hots for a dude – let alone an angel." He smiled when Sam chuckled. He placed a hand on his little brother's shoulder and gave it a light reassuring squeeze. "I just want you to be happy, and if you are-," He shrugged. "-I can learn to get along with the little midget angel."

Sam shot him a reproachful glare and Dean threw his head back and laughed. "Dean," His voice serious, "You really should get out there and do something for yourself." They locked eyes and Dean was surprised to see his little brother staring at him so intently. "I know that dad wanted you to run the shop and look out for me and Adam, but you need to find your own adventure. There's so much more to the world than that little auto shop." He smiled sympathetically. "And I think you should see it."

-[]-

It was a slow Tuesday afternoon and Dean was alone in the shop having sent Garth and Benny home early for the day. He was finishing up a paint job on an old Lincoln when he heard a 'ping' from the front door. He wiped his hands off on an old blue rag and made his way into the office. There was a short man in an all-black suit with a blood red tie. He had dark eyes, well kept facial hair wand was idly scanning the room. There was a thing woman in a black pantsuit as well with a round face and long dark hair. She was casting nervous glances around the room and when her eyes fell to Dean's he could have sworn she gave a quick shake of her head.

The man's eyes found the mechanic's and he smirked. "Well, hello there." Dean tilted his head inquisitively at the Scottish accent laced in his voice. "Would you happen to be the famous Dean Winchester?" He drawled.

Dean shifted into a semi-defensive stance and crossed his arms. "Depends on who is asking."

The man thrust an arm out. "Crowley." Dean hesitantly grasped his hand and gave it a firm shake.

"Dean." He pulled his hand away and glanced at the girl who was shaking her head furiously. He cleared his throat. "What can I do for you?"

Crowley's dress shoes tapped in the silent waiting room as he paced around the waiting room, eyes searching the paintings and display cases around the room. "I hear you do incredible paint jobs and can fix any vehicle." Dean just watched him carefully, arms still crossed. Crowley paused. "Do you find your job to be…rewarding?" There was a small smile on his face that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Do you think that your life matters?"

Dean frowned. "Listen here buddy," He glared. "I don't know who the hell you think you are, but unless you need some car work done, I suggest you get the hell out of here."

Crowley let out a hollow laugh and folded his hands behind his back. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. That's no way to treat your savior, Dean." He stopped and stood directly across from him. "I can help you." He offered.

Dean scoffed and his arms fell to his sides and he turned away. "I don't need help, man. Sounds to me like you're looking for the Demon of the Wastelands." He started to walk towards the garage and froze when he heard a harsh laughter behind him.

"Oh but Darling," He practically growled. "I amThe Demon of the Wastelands." Dean bristled. He spun around to face the smaller man in front of him. He chanced a glance the girl to find her giving him a horrified look. Crowley took a couple steps closer and although every muscle in Dean's body begged him to turn and run, he couldn't move. He was frozen on the spot. "Now," The demon was only a foot away from him now. He could feel the anger radiating off the celestial being. "You've taken something that belongs to me." He gritted his teeth. "And I'd like it back now-,"

"I haven't taken anything!" He argued.

Crowley seemed to search him for a second and Dean wondered if he was possibly reading his mind. An amused smile danced across his face. "You don't know," He raised an eyebrow. "Do you?" He didn't wait for Dean to respond before he burst out in a fit of laughter. "Oh my friend," The air surrounding him glowed a fierce red matching his own demonic eyes. "This will be wonderful." He lifted off the air and stretched his hand out clasping it around Dean's forearm. His voice boomed, and suddenly sounded like three different voices all speaking at once. "You who have unknowingly stolen an angel's heart will surge with the blood of a demon." The mechanic cried out in pain. "Your true soul will be hidden from all celestial beings." When he let go Dean fell to his knees grasping his forearm tightly to stop the bleeding and closed his eyes.

Crowley turned back and started walking towards the girl behind him. "Meg, clean him up and let's go." He flashed his red eyes at her. "Don't keep me waiting." He growled. He stopped briefly and tossed his head over his shoulder. "Oh and Dean, the best part is: you won't be able to tell anyone that you've been cursed." He disappeared through the front doors.

Meg rushed to Dean's side. "Calm down." She groaned. "God, you're so stupid." She pulled his hand away from his forearm and placed her own over it. "Look at me." He looked up and she shook her head. "I don't have much time so pay attention." She pulled her hand away and searched his eyes. "Crowley's put a pretty intense curse on you." She tapped between his eyebrows. "Angels and demons don't exactly see humans like humans see other humans." She was speaking quickly. "We see your soul through your eyes. You – for instance – when I first walked in, I saw a mess of blues and teals. I could see your distrust, your anxiousness, your fear and your anger." Dean screwed up his face in confusion but she plowed on. "Think of it as a defense mechanism. An angel or demon will choose to see a human – only as a soul – until they feel safe. When they can trust them, they let their guard down and choose to see a human's physical form - their hair color, skin color, eyes, size – all of it!" She tapped his forearm to bring Dean's attention to the mark. "Crowley has given you the mark of Cain." She shook her head sympathetically. "The only thing that can save you is an angel, but they'll only see you as a demon. And a weak one at that." She helped him to his feet. "You need to find Clarence." She cried out and clutched at her head. "He'll help you – he'll -," She staggered slightly. "I have to go."

Dean held out a hand as she started to back away. "Wait-,"

"Find Clarence!"

And she disappeared. Dean blinked a few times before rushing into the employee bathroom and looking in the mirror. The mark of Cain was burned into his forearm and he brushed his fingers gently against the sensitive skin. His eyes drifted upwards landing on the black eyes staring back at him through the mirror. Black eyes?

"Shit."