The gruff quality of the voice was unsettling and heartbreaking. The tall, sleep deprived, raven haired soul that belonged to the raspy bass voice was Castiel Novak. His unkempt hair and dark circles betrayed him because he was actually quite handsome when a stranger wasn't waking him up after midnight on a weeknight. He pulled his blue fleece robe tighter around him and held it closed with one hand and the other ran through his beautifully messy hair.
Dean just stared right through him without seeing the pain that was clearly present in Castiel's eyes. The light flickered against those tragic, blue orbs. There had always been a sadness that could stop someone dead in their tracks. It was there the first time Dean ever saw those eyes. Of course that seemed like a lifetime ago and he avoided looking at those eyes now because there was an immeasurable sadness always staring back now mixed with indifference or anger. Dean couldn't decide which. Tonight, though, he stared straight through.
"You must be the roommate." Rowan announced suddenly and it must have caught Castiel off guard as well since he tilted his head to the side looking at Dean quizzically.
"Roommate?" His voice was broken and he looked back and forth between Rowan and Dean. When Dean refused to meet his gaze he looked devastated.
"I guess that's an accurate description. Roommates. Yes, I suppose we are."
The words felt bitter in his mouth. He spit them out hoping the taste would leave, but when it didn't he turned and left the room and Dean followed, whispering his name as he chased after his...roommate, Castiel.
"Cas. Let me explain-" His voice echoed but began to trail off the further away he walked.
"Explain what exactly, Dean? That you're drunk again and brought another one of your conquests home...to our home."
Castiel's tone was stern and sharp. Rowan could hear the argument that had settled in the hallway and her curiosity pushed her forward a few steps so she could hear what they were saying. It was mostly Castiel and by the sound of it, this wasn't their first argument over Dean's overnight guests….plural.
She could only hear bits of the conversation and she pulled out her phone to call a cab when she realized she had no idea what street this house was located. She was edging herself to the door to make her escape she heard the sound of glass shattering which Rowan decided was the beer bottle that Dean had carried with him. She eased out through the garage and turned on the flashlight on her phone until she reached the motion lights at the edge of the garage.
She began to walk back down the driveway so she could maybe see the street sign so she could tell the cab company where to find her. She almost fell when her heel snagged a pebble causing her to lose her balance and drop her phone as she tried to recover. Before the phone could hit the ground a hand reached out from behind her and the phone gracefully landed in its palm. Startled by Castiel's sudden appearance and miraculous phone saving skills, Rowan let out a tiny scream.
As she stood there with her hands on her chest trying to slow her breathing from panicked possible murder victim to calm collected awkward uninvited guest she held out her hand to retrieve her phone from Castiel.
"Do you need a ride back to your car? I can drive you if you'd like." Castiel had emerged a new man. He was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt.
Rowan simply shrugged in agreement as it would be cheaper than calling a cab.
"Sure. This night can't get any worse."
They both walked back up the long driveway in silence and Castiel opened the door to a 1978 Lincoln Continental. She shook her head in disbelief.
"What is it with guys and old cars?" He didn't respond as he closed her door and walked around to the driver's side. When he sat down he felt compelled to shed some light on his situation, not about the car, but about Dean.
Rowan sensed he wanted to share something important and that Castiel was struggling with how to begin.
"How long have you and Dean been together?"
Her question cut right to point. Perhaps she understood more than he'd given her credit for. All the others were either too daft to pick up on the cues or too narcissistic to give a damn.
"Almost four years." He hung his head down feeling like that would be all he could answer from now on. He would never get to say five years, twenty years, a lifetime. He was tired and defeated and he didn't want to talk, but he felt he needed to say something out loud for a change. Maybe all this internal anguish was slowly killing him, killing them.
"Dean lost his younger brother last year." Castiel stated.
He spoke quickly and cautiously like Dean could hear what he said to this woman whose name he realized he did not know. Judgement hung in the air like a fog despite Dean not being in the car with them and instantly Castiel realized he did not want to know her name, but tonight was not his night.
Rowan waited patiently for Castiel to start the car and begin the long drive back to the bar where she'd stupidly decided to go home with Dean, but it was obvious he wanted to issue a warning or explanation of some sort. It was unnecessary, yet unavoidable. She made a quick decision to display empathy as this situation apparently required it. The news was shocking to say the least so the empathy came naturally.
"How did he die?" Rowan always engaged when people opened up to her. It should be noted that subtlety was not her forte and it often caused people to feel uncomfortable opening up to her.
Castiel did not owe this stranger any explanation and yet he couldn't stop himself. He appreciated her bluntness as it reminded of himself and he was desperate for someone to talk to about Dean, his Dean. Rowan watched Castiel as his eyes gripped the steering wheel and the internal battle he was waging against himself. He didn't want to expose Dean to this stranger even though he was tired of being in this alone.
"Story for another time maybe." He backed out of the driveway and began the silent journey down the road. It was the most excruciating drive he'd ever made aside from the drive from Sam's memorial service.
Occasionally, he'd look over at his strange passenger and wondered whether he should tell her everything. Passing street after street he remained resolute that he would not divulge more because as angry as he was with Dean, he still loved him and he wondered if there was any part of Dean that would still love him after tonight. He tried to shake away the image of Dean slamming his beer bottle at him. The absolute rage that lived behind his green eyes. Castiel felt the wetness welling up and he wiped the tears away.
He slowed down as they approached the bar and Rowan pointed to her car up ahead. She dug through her purse and pulled out her keys and a business card. When the car rolled to a stop in front of her Charger. With one hand on the door handle she almost lost her nerve. It was the look on Castiel's face that gave her the courage to offer. She handed him her card to which he just stared at with a perplexed look. Rowan met his gaze and in acknowledgement he accepted the card without speaking.
"Look, I understand we met under the most bizarre circumstance, but if you need someone to talk to or just a friend, I'm a really good listener. I hope you'll consider it."
"We'll see."
He watched Rowan step out of the car and walk towards her car. Before he drove away he couldn't resist rolling down the window and raising an accusing finger in the direction of her car, "you're one to talk."
Rowan shook her head and laughed as she watched Castiel drive away into the night.
