"Hey, Dean…you alive?"
Dean answered with a loud grunt.
"C'mon, man. It's almost noon."
Dean blinked his eyes a few times but the room was still bleary in the late morning light. He leaned up on his elbow, ran a hand over his face, and blinked a few more times. He felt the unshaven stubble on his face, and saw that he had passed out on top of the bed, still in his clothes. He'd even left his shoes on.
"Sam?" Dean croaked. His throat was dryer than the Sahara—he had to clear it a couple times.
"Morning," Sam said nonchalantly. His younger brother was sitting at the small kitchenette table, surfing on his laptop and drinking coffee from a to-go cup. Sam's hair was a bit frizzier than usual, and he had circles under his eyes as if he hadn't slept.
Sam opened his mouth to say something else, but Dean motioned for him to be silent. The thumping behind his eyes was getting worse the longer he was conscious.
He lay on his back for a moment, just to allow the fog to exit his brain. It seemed more like spider web than fog—it just stayed there, clinging to his brain and making everything hazy. He slowly rolled out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. After washing his face and drinking some water, he started to feel a little more human. The pain pills he popped would hopefully help the migraine sooner rather than later.
When Dean came out he wandered over to Sam, who handed him a cup of coffee. Dean noticed an extra cup still in the cardboard carrier on the table. Was Gabriel supposed to drop by? He hoped not; he wasn't mentally prepared for a caffeinated Trickster.
"Wasn't expecting to see you for a while." Dean's voice was still painfully gravelly.
Sam shrugged. "You didn't send me a text at the ass crack of dawn so I came to make sure some one-night stand didn't leave you in a bathtub of ice."
"Aren't you considerate," Dean mumbled.
Sam motioned around at the myriad of empty beer bottles on the table. "Must've been one hell of a party last night," he said casually.
"Oh yeah. Last night was the annual Sexy Triplets of Utah Convention. Triplets, man. Too bad you ran off with Douchey McFly, I might've shared," Dean quipped.
Sam raised an eyebrow at him. "Yeah, right."
"Yeah, you're right. No way in hell I would've shared."
He looked around at the bottles again, and was only just able to stop from sighing.
"Mistakes have to be atoned for." Those were Castiel's last words and they'd been ringing in Dean's ears for most of the night. The distraught, lost look the angel had when he'd flown the coop also had stayed in Dean's mind all night.
Why did that expression make Dean drink until he didn't even remember passing out? Why did he feel his stomach rolling around angrily? Why did he care?
Cas is an angel—Archangel. He can handle himself. He doesn't need you staying up all night getting a hangover because of him. He doesn't care.
"Dean?" Sam was looking at him; he must've been quiet a few minutes too long.
"Headache," Dean said, waving away Sam's concern. He swirled the cup around, the smell perking up his hungover brain. He lifted it to his lips, blowing on it before taking a sip. He didn't notice Sam trying not to smirk behind his own cup.
"Ugh! Dammit, Sammy," Dean swore as he pulled back from the cup in disgust. He glowered at his younger brother. "Seriously? Salt instead of sugar? Come on, bitch, I thought I taught you better than that!"
"I just couldn't resist, jerkface," Sam said with a carefree laugh. He took Dean's cup and presented him with the other cup of coffee. Ah, that's why there was another one waiting in the wings.
Dean tested it, watching Sam's expression the whole time, but the coffee was hot, with the right ratio of looked at Sam. "Guess I'm getting off easy if that's the only thing you've picked up from the Trickster….So, what's on today's agenda?"
"I was thinking of having a rave in our room," Sam said easily. "Lots of bright lights and techno. Figured Gabe could cater. All the greasy pork sandwiches served in ashtrays you could pray for," he finished with a snicker.
"Bite me, asshole," Dean said, but there was affection to it. "I hate morning-afters."
"Yeah, I'll bet," Sam said, still grinning. "Especially if those 'twins' footed you with their tab," he motioned around at the bottles.
Dean glowered at him.
"Alright, alright…." Sam sat at his laptop and pulled up some tabs. "Actually, I think I have a case. It's about two hours north of here. Probably nothing more than a salt and burn, but—"
"Hey, work is work," Dean said quickly. "I'll take anything right now."
He took several sips of his coffee as Sam filled him in on the sketchy newspaper details. He was only half paying attention to his brother, though, and Sam quickly stopped talking.
"Dean are you even listening?"
Dean took another swig of his coffee. "Cas dropped by last night," Dean managed to say casually.
Sam raised an eyebrow and pointedly looked around at the beer bottles. "Ah," he said in sudden understanding. "Did you two decide to play a drinking game?"
Doing shots with an Archangel, wouldn't that have been a kick in the pants, Dean thought to himself. He wished that's what had happened last night, instead of their weird-ass sorta kinda argument.
Maybe his bad luck run with the ladies made him cranky and he took it out on Cas.
Maybe he was upset about Cas disappearing without even a bat of an eyelash or a goodbye or even an anything. Maybe he was pissed because the stupid angel couldn't even let him know he was still around, being stupid.
Nah, that wasn't it at all.
Aloud, he said, "Not exactly. He's apparently been running around Earth."
Sam sighed. "Guess that makes since. I mean, Michael did threaten to rip him a new one if he went back upstairs," he said.
"Did Gabriel know Cas was still around?" Dean asked.
Sam shrugged. "You really think Gabriel would've blown the cover of an angel on the run from Heaven?"
"Yeah, you're right. Just covering all the bases."
"What's Cas been doing, did he say?" Sam asked.
"The usual. Now that he's all super-mojoed, he's being Mr. Superhero. You know, healing the sick, pulling kittens from trees, and making out with Wonder Woman in his spare time."
"You don't sound bitter at all," Sam said with that annoyingly smug twitch of his lips.
"I'm not bitter!" Dean vehemently denied.
Sam was about to say something when Dean's stomach growled.
"Look, I need me some breakfast," Dean said, pointedly walking to his bed. Gathering up his stuff to put in his duffel bag was his way of ending the conversation.
"Yeah, sure."
Dean knew Sam wasn't going to let go that easily, but the kid knew patience was the key to getting Dean to talk. After a while, Dean would crack under Sam's worried glances. He knew it. He knew Sam knew it. He just wasn't even sure what he would say.
They packed the car and got about a mile up the road to a diner that didn't look like it was from the turn of the century, two centuries prior. Their waiter was a young man about their age, with shaggy black hair and bright green eyes.
"Morning guys! What can I get you?" Despite addressing them both, it was very clear it was only Dean he was looking at.
"Scrambled eggs, bacon, and pancakes," Dean answered automatically.
"I'll have the same, but swap the bacon for whatever fruit you have," Sam answered.
"Sure thing guys," the waiter said. He eyed Dean up and down one last time before disappearing into the back.
Sam snickered once he was out of earshot. "Looks like you got an admirer," he said.
Dean glared at him. "Shut up, Sam."
Sam just kept up his stupid smug grin, and Dean flicked a packet of sugar at his brother's head.
"Real mature, asshole."
"That's me, Mr. Maturity, right here," Dean muttered darkly. He took the straw wrapper from his drink and started shredding it into tiny flakes of paper on the table.
"So, what happened?" Sam asked. "Did you two get into some kind of fight?"
"No! Well…not really. I'm not…I'm not really sure," Dean admitted. "Maybe?"
"Jesus, over what?" Sam said in his most disappointed and annoyed Dad voice.
"Cas, he's been around and he couldn't bother to let us know?" Dean said. He frowned at the pile of shredded paper, as if his confused feelings towards Castiel were its fault. "He just ran off and left us hanging like that? He's acting like a—"
"Like an angel who was both promoted to one of the most powerful positions in Heaven and kicked out of Heaven in the same second? Like an angel that has no idea what he's supposed to be doing but is trying to do something anyway?" Sam suggested hotly, but quietly. There were others in the diner and they didn't want to be overheard.
Dean frowned. "I was going to say he was acting like a dick."
Sam threw his hands up in defeat. "Seriously? You're hopeless Dean."
"Thanks Sam. Can always count on you to make me into the bad guy." Not that Dean needed his younger brother to do that. He was perfectly capable of realizing that on his own. The beers and their resulting hangover proved as much.
"Sometimes the shoe fits," Sam said with a shrug.
"Just…drop it, Sam," Dean said quietly.
Sam slumped back with a disbelieving scoff. "You're hopeless," he reiterated.
They were spared from further talk as their food arrived. Mr. Waiter gave Dean his food first.
"Uh, thanks," Dean said smoothly. He looked at the man's name tag. "Brian."
"You're welcome," Brian said with a wink.
Dean felt his cheeks blaze to life, and refused to look up again until he was gone.
His stomach growled loudly, and the food in front of him made his mouth water. He was about to dive into his pancakes when the plate shimmered like a mirage. His pancakes disappeared. A BBQ sandwich, dripping so much grease that the bun it sat on was now mush, popped into existence in front of the hunter. It was even sitting in an ash-filled ashtray. Dean actually gagged a little when the smell hit him.
"One hangover cure, order up." Gabriel said with a proud grin. No one else in the diner seemed to notice his sudden and unexplained arrival, sitting in the booth next to the freakishly tall hunter.
"Gabriel," Dean growled, leaning forward. "Give me back my pancakes!"
"Pancakes aren't good for hangovers, though!"
"Pancakes. NOW," Dean snapped. "Or so help me, I'll—"
"Kill me? Come on, Dean, you're starting to sound like a broken record." The archangel rolled his eyes and the disgusting visage immediately changed back into a normal stack of pancakes. Dean poked them and sniffed them suspiciously, but they seemed okay.
"Tasty?" Gabriel asked innocently after Dean ate the first bite.
"Bite me, jackass."
"I'd have to get Cas's permission first," Gabriel said.
Dean almost choked on his mouthful of egg and pancake. Sam shook, and it was obvious he was biting the inside of his mouth in order to not burst into laughter.
"You too Sam!"
"Despite what Chuck's fans seem to think, I'm not—pfft—interested Dean, sorry."
"I hate both of you," Dean growled.
"Duly noted," Gabriel said. He snapped his fingers and a stack of pancakes appeared in front of him. It must have been ten pancakes tall, with a mountain of whipped cream, strawberries, and chocolate chips layered between them. He tucked in with gusto.
Dean looked at Gabriel's pancakes, then at his small, plain, sad little plate with a frown.
"Pancake envy?" Gabriel asked with a giggle.
Dean closed his eyes and fought the urge to kick him under the table.
After a few minutes of eating in determined silence, Dean glanced up at the other two. He thanked whatever deity was listening that despite…whatever Sam and Gabriel had going on (ew, gross) they weren't into PDA. They didn't kiss, hold hands, snuggle, cuddle, call each other pet names, any of that girly crap. They just acted like guys, and that helped Dean feel slightly less awkward at the booth.
Only slightly though. He swore they were having some sort of conversation via Gabriel's animated eyebrows and Sam's various bitch faces. Eventually Sam's bright red cheeks settled the conversation as he looked away and Gabriel guffawed loudly.
Dean left them alone. Honestly…it was nice to see Sam happy. Content. Laughing. His kid brother had had it so hard recently, what with Lucifer's Grace almost killing him and all. Never mind the friggin' Apocalypse they'd managed to thwart.
He was glad for Sam, deep down inside…somewhere. He was just still getting hung up on the fact that it was the very angelic, very male Trickster that putting that dopey grin on Sam's face.
He never thought Sam swung that way. Jess, Sarah, Ruby (both versions) all very much female. Yet he switched teams with barely a thought? That wasn't normal…was it? Then again, Sam was supposed to be Lucifer's suit to the End of Days dance. So, normal didn't apply to his kid brother.
Did it apply to him?
Cas's sad eyes flickered in his head again, yet he shook his head. Not going there, not going there, nope!
He was straight; he liked women, he liked curves and breasts and long legs and soft mouths…and piercing blue eyes and sexed up brown hair and silk ties-
"You okay, Deano? I thought I saw smoke coming from your ears—don't think too hard or you might break something," Gabriel teased.
Dean flipped the angel off, but was glad for the angelic interruption. His brain would start thinking stupid shit if he wasn't careful 24/7.
"So, what're you kids up to today?" Gabriel asked around pancakes.
"A hunt in Brigham City. A couple warehouse workers were killed in the past month. Crushed under pallets, run over by off machines—seems like a vengeful spirit to me."
"I dunno, Sammy. Construction accidents are par for the course," Dean said. "Doesn't automatically mean pissed-off ghost."
Sam leaned forward so no one could overhear. "Look, a guy named Herald Gerber was killed just two months ago from a falling pallet. The investigation stated that if the company had actually followed its own safety guidelines, the guy would still be alive. And now other people are dying in safety-related accidents?"
Dean gave the Trickster a pointed look. "This sounds like your M.O."
Gabriel held up his hands. "Sorry kiddo. Not ironic enough for me."
"Why don't you think it's a ghost?" Sam asked.
"It's never that simple! It's always something else right at the last second," Dean said. "A demon or a tulpa or something."
"Maybe we'll have a simple one this time," Sam said hopefully.
"I have an idea!" Gabriel said. "Why don't I tag along and supervise?"
Both brothers turned to stare at the Trickster. "Do what?" They asked at once.
"Aw, you did your little Doublemint Twins thing, cute," Gabriel chuckled.
"No way!" Dean argued. "I'm not letting you tag along on a hunt!"
"Why not?" Gabriel asked. "You do remember who I am, right? Badass angel/pagan deity here? Handling myself is not a question."
"Dean, he could help us-" Sam started.
"Don't even! The last thing I need is to get killed because you two poofed away in the middle of a hunt because you couldn't keep it in your pants!" Dean hissed angrily.
"I won't interfere unless you ask; you two do you, I'll do me and we'll all survive together." Gabriel said.
"It would be nice to have some back-up," Sam said.
Sam looked at Dean, and Gabriel looked at Dean, and they hit him with the most potent sets of puppy eyes that Dean couldn't even look at them.
He let out a breath, and felt his resolve crumble. "We're in charge, Gabriel, got it?"
Gabriel's grin lit up the whole room; maybe it was because Sam was wearing a matching one. Dean wished he had a pair of nice sunglasses in his pocket.
Gabriel saluted the older Winchester. "Aye, aye, Captain!"
Dean knew he was going to regret the situation, but…dammit, Gabe was an angel, and he was sorta invested in Sam's well-being. Maybe having Gabe watch their backs wouldn't be so bad.
Dean went up to pay for the tab (leaving Sam and Gabe behind) and found Mr. Bright-Eyed-and-Bushy-Tailed was working the register.
"So, enjoy the food?" Brian asked cheerfully.
"Oh, yeah. The pancakes were good," Dean said.
Brain grinned at him and rang up the check. When he wasn't looking, Dean gave the waiter a once over, for curiosity's sake only. He was about Castiel's height, but he didn't have that same otherworldly aura to him. He didn't have that commanding presence that had terrified Dean every time Cas showed up until the angel admitted to rooting for him and Sam.
I guess he's…cute? A little chunky around the middle for my, uh, hypothetic taste, Dean mentally noted. He did a quick subtle check but Little Dean didn't seem too interested in the cheerful waiter. He let out a little breath. Maybe Sam was just the odd man out. He could deal with that.
"Sticking around town today?" Brian asked.
"Uh, no! Just on our way out," Dean said. He scribbled a signature on the receipt and gave Brian a little smile. Now that he had affirmed his utter straightness, he didn't feel so uncomfortable around the other guy.
"Well, if you ever come back through, I usually work mornings," Brian said with a wink. "Feel free to drop back by."
"Totally," Dean said with a little wave as he headed out the door.
It wasn't until he was outside that he realized Shit that made it sound like I was gonna take him up on that offer! But it was too late to go inside and clarify things.
He leaned against the hood of the car and soaked in the mid-morning sun. The parking lot was full of cars, the sky was blue and sunny. It was going to be a nice day for the drive. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.
Goddammit, I need supervision sometimes, he admitted to himself. He was torn between going in and clarifying 'Sorry, didn't mean to confuse you, but I'm as straight as a fuckin' arrow,' or just leaving poor Brian to wonder for the rest of his days if the handsome guy in the leather jacket and emerald eyes would ever show back up on his diner's doorstep.
Sam's sure taking his sweet time to come out, Dean decided to focus on instead. He's probably in the bathroom, primping his hair or something.
Or up to something with Gabriel.
"Oh, God, why do I do that to myself?" Dean swore, rubbing at his eyes. He'd already had one accidental mental scar from those two; he didn't need to give himself more.
Sam came strolling up to the car. Gabriel was nowhere in sight, which made Dean nervous. They slid into their seats at the same time. As Dean started up the Impala, he reveled in the roar of Baby's finely tuned engine.
"Atta girl," he told the car fondly, patting the dashboard. He looked around the car and then squinted at Sam. "Alright. Where's the annoying one?"
"Since when did you start referring to yourself in the third person, Deanie-Weenie?" Gabriel asked quizzically from the backseat.
Dean glared at him through the rearview mirror. "Don't call me that."
"Oh, sorry. How about Deanis Penis?" Gabriel asked. "Or Deaner Weiner? Isn't it weird that all your nicknames can rhyme with different nicknames for dick? What do you think that means?
Dean looked ready to kill the angel.
"Guys, what are you, five?" Sam asked with a laugh.
"I'm an adult, thank you," Dean said. "Your angelic whatever, on the other hand…."
"Seems your maturity level begs to differ, kiddo."
"Talk to me when you can actually get on a ride at an amusement park, shorty."
"Guys!" Sam barked. "We're working, remember? Possible supernatural something killing people? Who we have to go and save?"
Dean and Gabriel shared a fierce glare one more time, until Gabriel slumped in the backseat and pouted. Dean was grinning at his apparent victory, and continued to grin all the way to the main highway. Sam's large hand reached for the radio knob.
Dean frowned. "Driver picks the music, remember?"
"Dean we've listened to those same tapes a thousand times by—"
"~In the HE~AT OF THE MO~MENT!~" The radio blared. Both brothers jumped.
"Sunovabitch!" Dean yelped in surprise. It took everything he had to not jerk the wheel and send them flying into the guardrail or into the other lane of traffic.
"Fuck!" Sam snapped. He twisted the knob to turn it down so hard it almost came off in his large hand.
"What? I thought you guys appreciated the classics," Gabriel quipped from the backseat.
Both hunters swung around and shot him furious expressions, although Sam's went beyond furious to murderous.
"Oh, come on! I thought we were past that by now. Aren't we?"
"No mojoing the Impala!" Dean barked.
"And never that song," Sam amended.
"You two are going to kill me with all these stupid rules."
"You're welcome to leave Winchesterland whenever you want," Dean told him in a growl. "You've got wings."
"I don, don't I?" Gabriel said, face bright with realization.
Without warning, they weren't cruising down the highway anymore. They were parked in a parking lot of a clean, actually nice looking motel. One that had other cars in the parking lot—a rare sight at the usual dives the brothers stayed in.
Dean and Sam both turned to each other in confusion, then looked out the front windshield to see Gabriel casually leaning against the car. He wiggled his fingers at them, looking pleased with himself.
The brothers got out slowly. "Brigham City?" Sam guessed.
"What did I just say about mojoing my car?" Dean asked hotly.
"Hey, I did you a favor. Two less hours of utter boredom and a hundred miles less wear on your boatmobile," Gabriel said.
Dean stood there, steaming for a second. He hated angels. But he really hated it when this particular angel made a damn good point.
He huffed and opened the trunk to grab his bag. "Let's just get this show on the road."
