AN: Guys! I'm very sorry for the delay. I've been having a hard time finding time to write this down. Classes resumes today and I'm not yet enrolled! The fucking school system is taking it's time. I've been going back and forth for a week now trying to fix my classes and it's physically exhausting. Also I've developed a bad habit...I'm now sleeping during the afternoon till dawn and then awake for the rest of the day. So please be patient with me, I'm really trying my best. Hopefully when school starts, I can be more productive. Thank you for understanding!

Anyway, I know the story has been slow...dun dun dun... nothing noteworthy is happening yet BUT tadaaa! I'm working on it. Sad to say, I feel that I finally lost the scene I wanted to do the most in the story and this one is now very far from the original so I'm thinking of posting the original and you guys can compare the difference. It's like another story altogether.

Your reviews are the reason that drives me to write. I feel so bad for my slow updates, usually my deadline would just be three days... but what the hell happened. D: Anyway, I'm not gonna delay you guys any further! Here we go!

Disclaimer: SPN is not mine. And October is such a long time...

Puzzles

Chapter 6: Guns and Burgers

The Winchesters were hunters by default.

Their last name was proof enough to clear the doubts about it. Although a rifle may seem unlikely to be used in hunting, it was a family specialty. John's father took hunting as a sport—a family business would be much more exact, except that the state found it difficult to recognize it as one, so they settled for hobby. John took after this fixation with shooting animals, catching game. When he was eighteen, he was able to hunt his first big game animal: a black bear. He had a broken leg but he didn't care, his father had never been so proud of him and that was what mattered. Mary, his girlfriend, wasn't though. In fact, she refused to talk to John for three weeks after his first big catch.

When they got married, he promised to lay off the big game animals and settle for hunting once in a while. Mary compromised, knowing that she could never fully take his husband away from his dangerous sport.

Everything was well until it happened.

Mary was cooking inside their rented forest cabin when suddenly, the door burst open. She didn't turn around, assuming it was John who had probably forgotten some of his gear. Dean's startled cry however had her turning.

What she thought as John was a huge black mountain bear. It had vicious yellow eyes that were oddly focused on the open bedroom door on the right where six-months old Sam was sleeping peacefully on his little hammock.

Mary froze, dropping the soup ladle she was holding in her left hand. The bear turned to her and growled lowly. Dean was also frozen in his spot. He was playing under the table before the bear came in and Mary couldn't have felt more thankful that her son didn't listen to her when she told him not to play under the fixture.

The bear took a step forward.

Tears formed in her eyes. She had to do something before the savage animal noticed 4-year old Dean under the table or shift his attention back to Sam who was starting to wake up.

Her eyes moved from the pot of stew she was cooking to the backdoor steps away from her.

Later that day, John came home to his crying sons… and no Mary in sight. There was a trail of bloody shoeprints followed by a second trail of paw prints from the backdoor that lead to the deeper part of the forest.

Little Dean could only mutter "yellow eyes" for the next six months even with the help of a therapist.

"Yellow eyes." Dean muttered quietly as he stared at himself in the mirror. He could no longer remember the bear—in fact, there was a time when he couldn't even remember anything about the incident, a result from the traumatic experience.

But his father had made him remember.

After Mary's death, John became obsessive. He dived in head first into hunting again. And this time, he focused solely on the big games—specifically the black mountain bears back in the forest. Sam wasn't spared. When the brainiac was old enough, he too was taught how to hunt.

No one escaped the family business.

"No!" A shout from behind put him out of his reverie. He didn't need to turn around to know that it was Sam. "You can't. It's supposed to be over!"

Dean didn't know why his brother's voice sounded panicked. Or why he was shouting in the first place. As far as he was concerned, nothing was out of the ordinary. He glanced back to the body mirror and that's when he saw it.

A silenced rifle hung on his left shoulder while a shotgun was on his right. He had his hunting vest worn over a black plain shirt matched with his khaki cargo pants. He stood in shock as he realized what he was wearing. He couldn't even remember putting them on. He even had the boots on.

He slowly turned around to face Sam who had a frightened look on his face mirroring his own.

"Dean…"

"I don't… I don't remember putting them on, Sammy." He admitted, using a low voice.

"Dead, Dean. We don't have to continue this anymore. It's dead…so why are you…?" He trailed off. Dean didn't have an answer either. He hasn't been hunting for the past months, not after his father's death. He swore never to hunt again for Sammy and for himself. It was not a hobby after all. It was an activity based on obsession to secure vengeance and protecting others from suffering the same fate even if it meant that they were the ones who will have to suffer. It tore their lives apart, especially Sam's, and after the monster's death he swore on his father's fresh grave and on his mother's too—

"Mom's death anniversary." He whispered. "This is the first time we're…not in that cabin."

So that was why he couldn't remember anything. It was a routine, long engraved on his mind. He had been doing this for more than a decade. It already became a part of him, no matter how much he denied it.

It was the first time for the both of them to have yellow eyes dead during the anniversary.

Sam's eyes widened in understanding, but it was a fraction too wide that Dean had an inkling feeling his younger brother knew all along. He couldn't blame the guy, really. The dude had no recollections of their mother, given that he was half-a-year old when she died. The solemn visits from Dean's point of view were just awkward ones for Sam.

"So, uhm..." Sam drawled, taking in once more Dean's attire. "I'm pretty sure you'd make the people in your office run for their lives if you don't plan to change." He paused for a second, feigning the look of someone deep in thought. "Then again, uncle Bobby wouldn't probably notice."

Dean glared at his brother's cheeky smile but he read more into the statement. Sam had indirectly suggested that they continue their usual routine even though it was their mother's death anniversary.

"I'm not planning to go to work anymore, actually." He pressed, inwardly smug as the smile of his brother faltered.

"Oh..." Sam trailed off. "Well, I guess I'll have to tell Gabe I can't—"

Dean interrupted him. "Nah, I'll drop you off at school and at Cas'."

Sam arched a fine brow. "Huh. So when are you going to the cemetery then?"

"After I drop you off for your tutoring." Dean said simply.

"I don't understand... why aren't you going to work then?" And before Dean could even answer, it clicked to Sam. "No." He shook his head frantically. "No, you can't, Dean!" He threw his arms up in exasperation. "What part of trying to live a normal life don't you understand?! You promised!"

Dean turned away. "I'm not going to hunt, Sammy." He gritted his teeth, knowing that he was more likely trying to convince himself than Sam. "I just want to visit the place for the last time."

Sam looked at him dubiously. "You expect me to believe that?"

"No."

Sam frowned.

"But you can't do anything either, so get your girly ass in the car—and don't slam my baby's door!"

Sam wasn't sure if Dean stuck to his word. What he was sure of was that his big brother was just on time to take him to Gabe's, the purring engine of the Impala just outside proved that much. He stood up from the couch, and went outside.

His eyes immediately scanned his brother who was just getting out of the black Chevy.

Not a spot of blood on his clothes.

Not a rumple on any surface of the attire.

Not a dirt on his person.

"You hunted, didn't you?" Sam accused.

Dean gave him a funny look and just walked past him, only deciding to say something before he entered the house. "Hmmm, you ready?" Sam followed him inside and stared at Dean who was taking off his vest and flinging it at the foot of the stairs.

"Yeah." He said stiffly.

"Good. Let's go." With that, Dean passed by him again and went straight to the Impala.

Sam could only roll his eyes.

-()-

Dean let out a big breath of relief as he stepped into the Novak's house. He felt irked by how Sam was pointedly looking at him throughout the whole drive and it drove him crazy. It wasn't as if he committed a federal crime or some shit. He just didn't want to talk about it, if there was even something to talk about. Not today. He still had to go to the cemetery and talk to his mom.

Although the original plan was to just drop Sam off, something inside him egged him to see Castiel first.

He shook his head and resumed walking, tailing Sam and Gabriel.

Suddenly, a delicious smell invaded his nose as they neared the living room. It was a smell that Dean was very familiar with. He would know that smell even in his sleep. He inhaled deeply, sucking the heavenly smell through his nose.

Sweet mother of Christ. He thought. He let the smell lead him, barely noticing Sam and Gabriel turning right for the stairs.

The first change he noticed, in the living room, was the that big puzzle wasn't on the coffee table. In place of it was a platter of the yummiest-looking cheese burgers Dean had ever laid eyes on and a pitcher of orange juice beside it. Once he got his brain functioning again, he turned to the lone man sitting on the couch.

His breath hitched.

It was oddly refreshing to see the usually hunched-over-the-coffee-table man relaxed and leaning on the backrest of the couch. Though even for someone relaxed, he still had his hands perched properly on his lap, his fingers fidgeting. The second thing Dean noticed about Cas was his attire. The man was actually wearing casual clothes: a black shirt over a flannel top and plain denim jeans. A colorful tie with a print that seemed to be a deformed monkey was hanging loosely on his neck. Dean would bet his baby that Gabriel gave the tie.

Once he got over his initial reaction, Dean started to breathe again.

"Wow." He exclaimed, not entirely sure if he said that because of the food before him.

Castiel smiled, and if Dean had looked closely into it, it was actually a smile of relief.

"Wow, Cas...I don't mean to be assuming or anything, but are those babies for me?" He grinned at the older man.

Castiel's pleased face immediately turned to incredulous shock as Dean mentioned the word "babies." His lips turned pale as he struggled to answer the younger man. "T-the store said they were beef...Have I been misinformed? Why would they cater fetuses... I don't understand." He babbled.

"Oh God, no, Cas!" Dean groaned, a disturbing imagery entering his mind. "It was a term of endearment, y'know, coz I love cheeseburgers. Sometimes, I forget you're such a child."

"I'm not a child, Dean." Cas admonished.

"Yeah, well you remind me of one." Dean pointed out.

Castiel still disagreed. "Children are those who call their food "babies"."

"You haven't seen me with the Impala yet, huh." Cas gave him a confused stare. "Anyway, you said their food so... those babies are for me!"

Castiel nodded, smiling. "Yes, Dean, they are indeed for you. Though I think the mother cow would not like it if you claim her kin as yours."

Dean eyes rolled at Castiel's persistence against his term of endearment. "Whatever, Cas. Mommy dearest's probably dead already." He waved his hand offhandedly. "So... what's the occasion? Is it your birthday something? Buddy, you gotta tell me first before you decide to celebrate it with me." Although he was grinning, Dean found it unsettling to have the man's birthday on the day of death of his mother.

"No, it's not yet my birthday." Dean actually looked relieved. "And why would I need to tell you beforehand if it is my date of birth?" Castiel tilted his head in a familiar manner that the green-eyed man always found endearing.

Dean shrugged. "So I could get you a gift."

"But why would you get me a gift, Dean? We only see each other because your brother is tutoring my brother."

"That's what you do when it's your friend's birthday, I guess." Dean scratched the back of his head, a thoughtful frown on his face.

"Oh." Castiel said in a small voice. "Are we... friends, Dean?" He said the word as if it was his first time using it.

"'Course we are, Cas. Right?" They were friends, weren't they? He even helped him with his puzzle and Cas would be a total jerk if he didn't find a friend in him.

"Yes, I guess we are." And Castiel smiled the one special smile that seemed to be reserved only for him. That same smile that never failed to make Dean's heart flutter and his mind wonder why the hell he was reacting this way towards a man.

Dean gulped.

"G-good." He straightened his back, not remembering when he slacked. "We're getting off track here, Cas. What's up? What's with the burgers?" He briefly glanced at the wall clock.

"Ah... these." The said man gave an awkward sweeping glance, indicating the platter on the coffee table.

"Yeah, those."

"It may seem late, but I had wanted to show you my appreciation for finding another puzzle set exactly the same as my brother's gift." He gave a small smile. "I've only had the occasion to do so today." He explained.

Dean found himself smiling back. "Why is that?"

"My boss allowed me to take a day off."

"Aww, Cas, man, you didn't have to do that. It was my fault why you lost the piece." He took a seat beside the man, his usual place, and put a hand on his shoulder.

Castiel shook his head. "No, I didn't need to, but I wanted to Dean. It's not exactly your fault why the child chose to throw a tantrum."

"Not a fan of children huh?" Dean grinned.

Cas gave a wry smile. "I suppose I'm not."

Dean shrugged. He knew other people who weren't fond of children either so it was not a big deal. "I was the one who brought him here." He argued. "I didn't even ask if you would be okay with it."

Castiel scrunched his nose in distaste. "Your angle of reasoning seems oddly misguided. You had no control over it, Dean. It was meant to happen."

Dean had to raise an eyebrow at that but decided not to argue as he happened to glance at the clock once again. He jolted. "Oh shit. It's almost 8!" At Castiel's questioning glance, he continued. "I need to go to the cemetery. They're closing at 10."

Dean braced himself for the questions why he had to go that place at this time of the day but Cas simply inclined his head towards the platter of burgers and orange juice. "Shall I place them in a basket?"

"Uh...sure." Castiel merely nodded and stood up from his seat. He took the plate with one hand and the pitcher on the other and then proceeded to go to, what Dean assumed, the kitchen. He came back after five minutes with a small picnic basket in hand.

Dean seemed to consider something.

"Would you like to go with me, Cas?" He cringed after hearing his own question. Who the hell asks that? They were friends but Dean didn't think they had gotten that far to already share the habit of visiting each deceased relative's grave.

He thought if there could be anything weirder than his invitation to the cemetery.

Castiel smiled. "I'd love to."

Apparently there was.

To Be Continued

AN: There we go! I hope this will somehow make it up to you guys for my long absence. I promise not to do it again. It's just that the enrollment process was really driving me crazy. I'm even sick now due to the change of temperature. *sighs* Anyway, tell me what you think about Cas and Dean having their first proper date in a cemetery. By proper, I meant no Sam and Gabe upstairs. I WILL update soon! Have to update Marionette first.

PS: If I'm not able to fulfill my promise, please be aware that I have stumbled upon the fic Twist and Shout and that from what I've heard, it's really, really, really, really heartbreaking. So if you haven't heard from me for a week or more, I believe I'll be appropriately classified under "Death by Destiel" Seriously, have you read that already...and then see the video promo of it in YT? The video was epic, so I suggest you take a look at it! Good luck to me!