Warnings: This chapter contains profanity and some discussion of homophobia. Still no sex. Sorry. But the next chapter will definitely contain some Dean/Cas fun times.

This chapter is set during 5.08: "Changing Channels". I've borrowed some dialogue from the episode, but this one goes really off script, mostly because I wanted to explore the relationship between Cas and Gabriel a lot more than they did in the show.

Happy reading, and I can't help noticing that no one's leaving any reviews, so please leave a review even if you don't like it. =)

This was the single weirdest thing that had ever happened to Dean, and that was a high bar.

And at first it was kind of cool. He got to meet Dr. Sexy which had been a fantasy of his ever since he discovered the show. Okay, yeah, the guy was a mega douche and not nearly as good looking as Cas, but he had a certain rugged, alpha male … He was Dr. Sexy, all right? It was really all in the name. And if Dean liked strong, self confident women, then he really liked those qualities in men. He liked a man who would take control, free him of the weight of responsibility that had characterized his life since he was four years old.

But then Dr. Sexy turned into the damn Trickster. And then Dean got shot in the back, and Sam got hit in the nuts, and Cas got zapped to who knew where, and now they were stuck in some nightmare sitcom where invisible people laughed at everything they said. The novelty had officially worn off.

"All right. I'm done with the monkey dance," Dean said, advancing on the smirking Trickster. "We get it."

"Yeah? Get what, hotshot?" The Trickster's eyes glittered with something more than his usual mischief. He was angry.

"Playing our roles, right? That's your game?" Dean pressed on. Whatever this creature really was, whatever it wanted, they could figure all that out after they got back to the real world. At least the fucking laugh track had stopped.

"That's half the game."

"What's the other half?" Sam asked.

"Play your roles out there. You know what I mean." He put on a deep, TV narrator sort of voice. "Sam starring as Lucifer. Dean starring as Michael. Your celebrity death match. Play. Your. Roles."

"You want us to say yes to those sons of bitches?" Sam said incredulously.

"Hells, yeah. Let's light this candle!"

But something in the way he said it reminded Dean of the way Raphael had talked. Like he was trying to convince himself that he didn't care. And the way Cas had looked at him. There'd been a spark of recognition before the Trickster conveniently gagged him and zapped him away. Was it possible that …

"Heaven or Hell?" Dean said. "Which side are you on?"

"I'm not on either side," the Trickster said coldly. All traces of humor had vanished from his face. Dean was almost sure that his theory was right, but there was only one way to be really sure, and that was to poke the bear. Or rather, the ancient and powerful demigod who might actually be something even more ancient and more powerful.

"Yeah, right," Dean said scathingly. "You're somebody's bitch."

In an instant he was pinned against the wall, his feet dangling off the floor, the Trickster's face an inch away from his. "Don't you ever presume to know what I am," the creature hissed.

"You're an angel," Dean rasped, struggling against the hand constricting his windpipe.

The Trickster's grip slackened in shock, and Dean pulled in a deep breath while he could.

"What?!" Sam said at the same moment that the Trickster laughed and said, "That's ridiculous." But the truth was written all over his face, and even if he'd been better at controlling his expression …

"I can see your wings, you feathered dick," Dean said.

They were even bigger than Raphael's, each one longer than Sam was tall, and the feathers were every shade of brown imaginable, from dark chocolate near the shoulder joints to a creamy yellow that was almost white at the tips. When they caught the light, the edges of each feather gleamed like they'd been dipped in gold.

The angel released Dean as though Dean's skin had burned him. "How …" He reached over his shoulder just as Cas had done, and sure enough his fingers passed right through the wing.

"They're nice," Dean said, straightening up from where he'd stumbled when he hit the floor. "Course I like Cas's better. I was never that into blonds."

"How are you doing that?" the angel demanded.

"Well, I think that when you got mad, whatever mojo you use to hide them slipped. I've noticed you guys like to spread out when you get riled up. It's a dominance thing, right?"

"But you're human. How can you …" The angel cocked his head and gave Dean a piercing look. Dean knew he was looking at his soul. After a moment, he stepped closer to Dean, and his hand came up to hover over the scar that was hidden by Dean's shirt.

Dean shied away, remembering the deeply wrong feeling he'd gotten when Sophia touched it.

The angel looked at him with sudden gentleness. "It's all right, Dean," he said softly. "I'm not going to touch it. I do have some boundaries." He withdrew his hand. "Do you know what that is?"

"Yeah," Dean said. "A piece of angel grace. Believe me, I didn't ask for it."

"But you wouldn't give it back now for the world, would you?" the angel said, still in that weirdly friendly tone. It was starting to creep Dean out. "And you couldn't even if you wanted to. Oh, what has my little brother gone and done?"

Dean decided it was time to change the subject. "What's an archangel doing masquerading as a Trickster?" he asked.

The angel shrugged, his wings rising and falling with the motion. "Call it my own personal witness protection program. And how did you know I was an archangel?"

"Bigger wings." He couldn't resist adding, "Compensating for something?"

A slow smile spread over the angel's face. "Well, look at the balls on you. I can see why Cassie likes you."

"Yeah, speaking of Cas, are you gonna …"

"Oh. Right." The angel snapped his fingers, and TV Land disappeared, replaced by the damp interior of the abandoned warehouse they'd gone into right before the Trickster sprang his trap.

Cas was standing beside Dean, a trickle of blood running from a scratch on his nose but otherwise unharmed. "Are you all right, Dean?" he asked, then added belatedly, "Sam?"

Sam just nodded, looking from Dean to Cas to the Trickster-angel with an expression Dean knew all too well. There would be questions later, and Dean would have to answer them. He couldn't wriggle out of it this time, but with any luck he could skirt the whole sex issue and make it sound like the connection had just spontaneously happened.

"Yes, your boyfriend is fine, Castiel," the Trickster-angel said. "I haven't harmed a hair on his head."

Technically that wasn't true. He'd fucking shot Dean in the back. But when Cas turned to look at the other angel, there was so much pain in his eyes that Dean kept silent. He had to restrain himself from reaching out to squeeze Cas's hand. "Hello, Gabriel," Cas said quietly. "It's been a long time."

Gabriel looked guilty. "Yeah. Sorry about that. I just …" He met Cas's eyes with a pleading expression. "I couldn't take it anymore, Cassie. The constant fighting. I couldn't —"

"You left me behind," Cas said. He didn't shout, but he was angrier than Dean had ever seen him. "You promised …" His voice broke.

"I know," Gabriel said. "I thought … I thought it would be better that way. I thought you'd be happy."

"Well, I wasn't. And now … Now you're trying to take away the one thing that I …" Cas didn't touch Dean or even look at him, but Dean felt a … pull, as though Cas was hanging onto him with all his considerable strength. "Why should Dean and Sam sacrifice themselves for our stupid war?" Cas demanded.

"Because they started it."

"No! No, Michael and Lucifer started it. If they want to kill each other, fine, but they will not use these vessels to do it."

"But it's their destiny," Gabriel said. "Why do you think they're the chosen ones?" He pointed at Dean. "Michael, the big brother, loyal to an absent father." The pointing finger traveled to Sam. "And Lucifer, the little brother, rebelling against Daddy's plan. It always had to be you two. You were born to this." He turned back to Cas. "And no offense, Cassie, but no one told you to make this so hard for yourself." He darted his eyes meaningfully towards Dean.

Cas stiffened, his wings flaring slightly. "That is none of your business," he said coldly.

Gabriel held up his hands. "Hey, no judgment. I am the last angel who'll lecture you about the laws of Heaven. Well, maybe the second to last. But … him? It had to be him? You couldn't have picked … any other human being on the planet?"

Dean snorted. "That's what I said."

"Dean," Cas said reproachfully.

"Hey, I'm not complaining," Dean assured him.

"I'll bet you're not," Gabriel said in a lascivious tone that no angel should have been capable of.

"Gabriel!" Cas snapped, and for a moment he sounded just like Sam when Dean made an inappropriate joke. They really were brothers. "It doesn't have to be this way," Cas said, his voice turning pleading. "Help us find another way."

"Like what?" Gabriel scoffed. "Finding Dad? You really think that's going to fix anything?"

"He was the only one who could control them."

"Yeah, until he stopped trying. He gave up, Castiel. He gave up on all of us. We disappointed him once too often."

Silence fell in the warehouse. Dean tensed. Gabriel had the combined powers of an archangel and a Trickster. He couldn't make them say yes, but he could zap them back to TV Land for all eternity, or worse. Dean remembered all too well how Zachariah had tried to persuade them to fall in line, and Gabriel had already proved that he had much more imagination.

But the archangel just sighed, his golden wings drooping in defeat. "Whatever," he said. "Do what you want."

"Seriously?" Dean said, and then wanted to bite his tongue off. He really had been watching too much Dr. Sexy.

"Yeah." Gabriel smirked, but it was a poor imitation of his usual cocky expression. "I know better than to get in the middle of this." He gestured between Dean and Cas. "And as for you …" He looked at Sam. "Well, I've always had a soft spot for you."

Sam just glared. He clearly hadn't forgiven the angel for Mystery Spot. Dean hadn't either, but at least he didn't remember most of it. If he'd had to watch Sam die a hundred times in a row, he'd hold one hell of a grudge too.

Gabriel turned to Cas, and his smile became a little more genuine. "Take care of yourself, little brother. And take care of him." He jerked his head at Dean. "I'm glad you're finally happy." He spread his wings and vanished.

~o0o~

As soon as the Trickster — or archangel, or whatever the hell he was — was gone, Sam turned to his brother and said, "What the hell was that about?"

Dean shifted uncomfortably, avoiding Sam's eyes. "Can we do this somewhere else?" He looked around the dark, grimy warehouse.

"Fine," Sam conceded, "but we are doing this."

Dean turned to Cas. "You sticking around?"

"Yes," Cas said, still staring at the spot where his brother had stood a moment ago. "I imagine Sam will have questions for both of us."

Dean looked relieved that he wouldn't have to face the inquisition alone. Or maybe it was more than that. Sam had noticed in the past few weeks that Dean was always in a better mood when Cas was around, quicker to smile, less likely to get angry. And when Cas wasn't there, Dean wasn't completely there either. He could do the job as well as ever. He could argue with Sam and flirt with girls, but it was like he was going through the motions while his mind was somewhere else. Like he needed Cas's presence to focus him. Like a drug.

The comparison made Sam deeply uncomfortable, and once he'd thought it, he couldn't stop thinking it. As they drove back to the motel, he found himself watching Cas in the rearview mirror. Dark, paranoid thoughts spilled into his head as though that first one had cracked a dam. What if Cas hadn't really rebelled against Heaven? What if he was a spy for Zachariah or even working directly for Michael? What if he was manipulating Dean just like Ruby had manipulated Sam? The angel was so impassive most of the time, so unreadable. Sam remembered the shy way he sometimes smiled at Dean, and suddenly it seemed like sinister satisfaction, the smile of a con-artist who knows he has his mark completely under his control.

And he'd done it before, hadn't he? He'd manipulated Dean into thinking he was supposed to stop the apocalypse when really he was supposed to stand by and let Lucifer take Sam, and then let Michael use his body to kill both their brothers. Cas said he hadn't known the real plan until almost the very end, but what if he'd lied? What if he was still pulling Dean's strings, and worse, making Dean think they were friends while he did it? Dean didn't trust easily, Sam knew. If Cas was abusing that trust …

Sam forced himself to stop. This was a deep, dark rabbit hole, and he wouldn't find any proof or fact at the bottom. He couldn't let paranoia get the better of him, but he couldn't ignore his instincts either. He'd just have to watch and wait.

Once they were back in the motel room, which disturbingly looked just like the Trickster's sitcom world only dingier, Dean sat down on his bed and said, "Okay. Where do you want to start?"

Sam looked at Cas who had sat in one of the chairs in the little kitchen area, then back at Dean who was clearly making a concerted effort not to stare at the wall behind Cas. Or rather, what was between Cas and the wall, what Dean could see that Sam couldn't. "You can see angel wings." He made it a statement, not a question.

Dean nodded anyway.

"When did that start?"

"Couple months ago while you were …" He made a vague gesture. Away. Doing your own thing. Running away from your problems.

"How did it start?"

Ah. This was the question Dean really didn't want to answer. He looked at Cas, then quickly looked away, blushing fiercely. Cas's cheeks were pink too, and he was staring intently at his own fingernails. "It's a long story," Dean said.

Sam glared.

Dean sighed. "But the short version is … You remember that scar I had when I got back from Hell?" He pointed to his shoulder.

"Right. The handprint. Where Cas touched you when he pulled you out."

Cas cleared his throat. "Not exactly," he said. "It was Dean's soul that I rescued from Hell, not his body. The scar was only a physical manifestation of something much deeper. A piece of my grace that remained attached to Dean's soul. Not a large piece. More like a residue. But it was enough to connect Dean to me, let him perceive the world the way I do to a degree."

Sam digested this in silence. At the moment he wasn't inclined to take anything the angel said at face value, and he didn't have to look far to see a glaring problem with this. "Isn't that dangerous? Pamela saw your true form and her eyes literally caught fire."

Cas winced at the reminder. "I said, 'to a degree'. The connection isn't strong enough to show him anything that would harm him."

"Are you sure?"

"Sam," Dean said sharply. "It's been two months, and I've still got eyes. So clearly it's fine."

Sam wasn't convinced, but he decided to move on to the other gaping hole in their explanation. "Okay, but you've had that scar for over a year. Why is this suddenly happening now?"

And again no one would look him in the eye. Cas was studying the ceiling. Dean was staring at the floor. They were both red faced.

"Would this have something to do with breaking the laws of Heaven?" Sam asked.

Their silence was answer enough.

Sam chose to focus on his brother. Dean might lie to him, but Sam could usually spot his tells. With Cas it would be harder, maybe impossible, to separate the lies from the truth. "Dean, what did you do?"

Dean bit his lip, his eyes still fixed on his boots.

"Dean, look at me."

Reluctantly Dean met his brother's gaze, and Sam saw something he hadn't expected. Fear. Dean was afraid to tell him the truth.

"Dean, it's all right," Sam said softly. "I promise I won't hate you. Whatever you did, it can't possibly be worse than the things I've done."

Dean laughed. It was a hoarse, choked sound, and it wasn't at all happy. He glanced over at Cas, and they shared one of their long, meaningful looks.

"If you want to tell him," Cas said, "it's all right with me. Just … please don't go into too much detail."

Dean laughed again, and this time it was more like his real laugh. "Dude, what do you think I am?" he said.

Cas cocked his head in a puzzled way and opened his mouth.

Dean held up a hand. "Don't answer that."

Cas closed his mouth.

Dean turned back to Sam, and Sam could see the struggle clearly in his face. To talk or not to talk. Unsurprisingly, he chose the latter. "No, Sam," he said with a shake of his head. "I'm sorry, but you know everything you need to know. The rest of it … It's not important. And it's never going to happen again." As he said the last part, his voice dropped almost to a whisper, and he looked … regretful.

Out of the corner of his eye Sam saw a similar look on Cas's face.

He realized he had two choices. He could drop it while Dean was still in a relatively good mood, and maybe he could get Dean to talk about other things. Or he could keep pushing and end up with a pissed off brother and no more answers than he had now.

"So the Trickster is an angel," he said. "Did not see that one coming."

"Archangel," Cas said.

Both humans gave him blank looks.

"They're a higher order of angel," he explained. "There are very few of them. In Heaven it was an important distinction. Like a military rank. You would never address a general as sergeant."

That made sense. "And Gabriel was your general?" Sam asked. "You served under him?"

Cas shook his head. "No, I was just a fledgling when Gabriel disappeared. I wasn't old enough to serve."

"So what happened between you?" Dean asked. His tone was gentle, like the way he used to talk to Sam when they were little and Sam had a scraped knee or a bee sting. "You said something about a promise?"

Cas was silent for so long that Sam thought he would refuse to talk about it at all, but then he said very quietly, "He was my big brother. He raised me, cared for me."

Sam looked at Dean at the same moment that Dean turned to look at Sam, and they shared a moment of perfect understanding, a rarity these days.

"He was the only one who understood my fascination with humanity," Cas went on. "And I knew he was thinking of leaving Heaven, going to Earth, so I begged him to take me with him, and he promised he would. And then one day he was just … gone. I thought he was dead until today."

There were tears in Cas's eyes when he finished, and to Sam's complete and total shock, Dean stood up, walked over to the angel, and hugged him. Not a quick, manly pat on the back, but an actual hug, letting Cas bury his face in Dean's shoulder for almost thirty seconds. When Cas lifted his head, his eyes were dry again, and he gave Dean a grateful smile. Dean went back to sit on the bed, shooting Sam a look that said clearly, Mention this ever again and I'll kill you.

"Do you think he'll help us?" Sam asked Cas. His doubts about the angel had receded to the back of his mind for now. There was no way that speech had been anything but genuine.

"I don't know," Cas said, frowning. "He's changed. The Gabriel I knew was … joyful, hopeful. He would never argue in favor of ending the world. I don't know him anymore."

This time Sam deliberately avoided looking at his brother.

After a moment Dean stood up. "Okay. I haven't eaten in …" He looked at Cas. "How long were we trapped in there?"

"Three days."

"Oh. That explains why I could eat a whole cow. So I'm gonna go get us some dinner. Want to come with?"

He was clearly talking to Cas, not Sam, and Sam tensed up, his doubts rushing back. Should he let his brother go off alone with the angel? Could he stop him? The answer to the second one was definitely no, not without telling Dean why he didn't want him spending time with Cas, and at this point, with nothing to offer but vague feelings and wild theories, that would only make Dean angry. He might shut Sam out and hold on even tighter to the angel. In fact, that was almost definitely what he would do.

Don't make me choose between you, Dean had told Cas, and at the time Sam had just been grateful that his brother was standing up for him. But now he was starting to think it had been less of a threat and more of a plea. Don't make me choose because I can't. I don't know who I need more.

If Cas did have some sort of hold over his brother, then Sam needed to stay as close as he could, and to do that he had to keep his mouth shut and pretend everything was normal. Watch and wait.

"All right," Cas said, and he smiled, one of those shyly happy smiles that he only ever gave Dean.

Sam tried not to see anything but a man smiling at the first real friend he'd ever had.

~o0o~

"Dean, I'm not sure I understand your reluctance to tell Sam the whole truth."

Dean sighed. They were waiting in line at a Chinese takeout place, not the best moment to have a conversation like this, but they had a limited amount of time away from Sam, and at least Cas hadn't used the word intercourse. Yet.

"Thought you didn't want to tell him either," he said.

"Not in detail, but … Dean, he thinks we did something bad. Wouldn't you rather he knew the truth?"

Dean sighed again. "Oh, Cas, I wish it was that simple."

"Why isn't it?"

Dean chuckled at the childlike naivety of the question. How did you explain homophobia to someone for whom gender was an optional extra? "Cas, what I am, the things I …" He lowered his voice. "… the things I like? People don't always understand. They want you to be one thing or the other, and if you won't choose, they'll choose for you. They'll tell you you're gay and you're just kidding yourself, or you're straight but you're going through a phase. And then there are the people who'll tell you there's only one right choice, and God help you if you make the wrong one."

Cas frowned as he tried to puzzle through this roundabout answer.

"Sam doesn't know I sleep with guys," Dean said when almost a minute went by and Cas clearly wasn't getting it.

Cas continued to frown. "And you think he would disapprove?"

"I don't know what he'd think." I have no idea what goes on in Sam's head these days. Maybe I never did. "I'm not sure I want to find out." That wasn't the whole reason, and Dean was debating whether or not to tell Cas the rest when they reached the front of the line. He didn't order a whole cow, but it was close.

They sat at one of the little tables to wait. Dean found it incredibly odd being out in public with Cas and knowing that only he could see the angel's wings. Of course Sam couldn't see them either, but he knew what Cas really was. Everyone here just saw a man in a rumpled suit and a trench coat. A good looking man though. Dean noticed a girl at a nearby table checking Cas out, and he felt an irrational surge of possessiveness. He wanted to take Cas's hand or maybe even kiss him, something to declare, Mine.

But he isn't mine, he reminded himself. Well, he's my friend or my guardian angel or whatever, but he isn't mine. Not the way I want her to think. Not the way I want.

Cas hadn't noticed the girl's interest. He was looking only at Dean, and that eased the lonely ache in Dean's chest. "Does anyone else know?" Cas asked. "About your sexual preferences?"

Dean winced, but Cas's voice was low. Probably only Dean had heard. He considered giving Cas a deliberately obtuse answer like, Obviously every guy I've ever slept with. But he knew that wasn't what Cas was asking. Anyone who was currently an active part of Dean's life. Anyone who mattered. He shook his head. "No. Just you. And … Well, my dad knew."

"Did he —"

"He did not approve."

Cas was quiet, waiting to see if Dean wanted to tell the rest of the story.

Dean decided that for once he did. "See, I started to figure this out about myself when I was … maybe eleven years old. It was little things at first. Commercials I liked to watch. Pictures in magazines. And then when I was thirteen, I met this boy. Eliot. Don't remember his last name. We were in Tennessee for a few months, staying with a friend of Dad's, and Eliot lived next door so we hung out, and I found out that he was like me."

Dean smiled at the memory. That had been a good time even if it had ended badly. Miss Mabel who was looking after them while John was away was a good woman and a good babysitter. For once Dean didn't have to worry about keeping Sammy fed and keeping him out of trouble, and he let himself enjoy the freedom while it lasted. He knew it wouldn't last forever. Nothing ever did. But for a little while he was almost a normal kid, almost happy. And he had Eliot.

"We didn't really talk about it. We weren't a couple or anything. We didn't go on dates or hold hands. It was just sometimes, when we were alone and we were bored, we'd kiss." And somehow they both knew that it had to be kept a secret. They didn't feel like what they were doing was wrong, but they knew people wouldn't understand. "And then one day my dad caught us, and he … He flipped out."

Cas reached out and touched the back of Dean's hand. "Did he hurt you?"

Dean stared down at Cas's hand resting on top of his. It felt so natural. Not arousing, thank God. Just … right. "No," he said, "but it got loud. Eliot bolted, and I never saw him again. I don't blame him. It was fucking terrifying. I would have run too if I had anywhere to go."

Cas's hand tightened a bit, squeezing reassuringly.

"Finally Dad calmed down," Dean continued, his voice shaking as he neared the worst part. "And he looked me in the eye and told me it was wrong, that it was unnatural. And he said I'd better get myself right because …" Dean swallowed and forced out the hateful words, the worst thing anyone had ever said to him. "Because he wouldn't have me being a bad influence on Sammy. And then he made me swear on Mom's grave that I would never tell Sam about this … about this part of myself." He met Cas's eyes. "That's why I can't tell him what we really did. I know it's stupid because Dad's dead, and anyway he was wrong to make me promise that, but I did promise. And I can't take that back."

"You were a child, Dean."

Dean shook his head vehemently. "No. I wasn't."

Cas sighed but didn't argue.

Just then the lady behind the counter called their number, and Dean went to pick up the food. They didn't talk again until they were in the car on the way back to the motel. The tantalizing smell of food was mingling with the thunderstorm smell of Cas, and Dean's body couldn't decide if it was hungry or horny.

"I don't think Sam would agree with your father's opinion," Cas said.

Dean snorted. "You're probably right. They didn't agree on anything else."

"But you still won't tell him?"

"Nope."

"Because of a promise extracted from you with intimidation."

"It's still a promise. I keep my promises."

Cas shook his head with an expression of fond exasperation. "You are a strange man, Dean Winchester. I don't think I'll ever understand you."

Dean grinned. "Right back atcha, Cas. You are the fucking definition of strange."

Cas smiled like this was the greatest compliment he'd ever received.