When James woke up, he felt warm. But it was not the warmth of a cosy bed, or even the one of the slowly dying fire he was experiencing; no, this was a warmth he had felt now and then, long ago, when he had been years from lonely evenings that would be chased away by the most beautiful man he had ever met.

He was lying in Dean Winchester's arms in front of the fireplace. Somehow, he had ended up as the little spoon, with Dean holding unto him. For a moment, still half-asleep, he snuggled closer. How long had it been? he mused. Twenty years? Twenty-five? Longer? And he couldn't remember ever feeling as comfortable as this.

Then he realized and stiffened. He was cuddling with Dean. He couldn't. He shouldn't. If this went on, he could hurt Dean, and that was the last thing he wanted.

That was if Dean would ever be interested in him, truly interested in him, and why should he be –

He needed to move.

But as soon as he tried, Dean emitted a sound of protest and pulled him back.

He's asleep. He doesn't mean it.

When he tried to get up again, Dean woke up.

"Wha – Cas?"

He jumped up, his face burning again. He certainly hadn't blushed that much the first time being thirty? Did Dean simply have that effect on him?

"I'm sorry" he mumbled. "I was tired and... I shouldn't have walked around in the cold all day..."

"Hey, Cas, calm down. I'm just happy you are alright. You really came in just in time."

Dean had stood up as well. He was standing very close to James.

"And aside from the whole you almost freezing to death thing, last night was fun."

"Really?" he asked, frowning. Most people wouldn't look fondly back on having to warm him up and then eat in silence, but Dean looked happy enough, still a little drowsy, his hair in disarray...

James' eyes landed on his lips as he unconsciously licked his own. When his eyes met Dean's again, he could see the desire in them; his neighbour leaned forward –

There was only one thing to do.

James dashed away, almost throwing Dean to the ground in the process, calling out "Thank you very much, Dean. I have to go", grabbed his trench coat and ran to his house.

He only took time to breathe and think when he was sitting on his couch.

What had he just done?

Worse, what had he wanted to do?

Dean blinked slowly after Cas had left. So that happened.

What did you expect? He needs sympathy, not a come-on by a stupid mechanic.

He brought his hand up to rub his face, sighing. He should have known. Things – never worked out with people he was interested in. Although he thought this was a new record, even for him.

Cas had just looked so... innocent, so lost, and Dean had wanted to make him feel better, to make him see he was treasured –

What had possessed him, really? Cas might have blushed, but had he ever given him any real indication that he was interested? He hadn't. Dean had no right to try anything.

He sighed. It was time to go to work anyway.

He needed to find Patrick Langleben, and fast.

Not only because of the other man's short life span, but because –

He still wanted to go back, could feel the temptation calling out to him, that Dean wanted him. Dean would have kissed him if he had allowed it.

And for a second, he almost had given in, almost reached out, almost touched Dean. But he couldn't. He couldn't lie to him like that. Dean would be thinking that he was kissing, touching a young man, not an old man with a tired soul who had accidentally stolen someone else's life.

But Dean doesn't have to know, something in him argued. He turned away from that thought in disgust. Dean deserved better, deserved so much more than him.

Dean was angry at himself as he drove to work. Not only had he almost kissed Cas, but what he had done last night...

He wished he could believe that he had only tried to warm him up as quickly as possible, but he had relished every touch. And when Cas had fallen asleep, had he woken him up and led him to the guest room? No, when Cas' head had fallen on his shoulder, he'd drawn him closer under the pretence of sharing body heat.

Now, it was clear that Cas wouldn't have wanted any of that and Dean felt like a monster. He would apologize later, if Cas wanted to see him, and then they would never speak to each other again.

He didn't know why that thought hurt so much. He wasn't someone who fell (alright, wrong word, totally wrong word, because that wasn't what was happening or had been happening at all) easily for someone else, and they had known each other for a day. There had just been this connection... But apparently Dean had imagined that anyway.

He came to a flashlight and let his head fall on the wheel after he'd stopped the car.

"You really need to get laid" he mumbled. "That's all there is."

He didn't believe himself.

James had been pacing up and down his living room, trying to come up with a plan, but he kept getting distracted. Why had he ever bought this couch? Sure, it was comfy, but also ugly and bulky, and it didn't match with the book cases at all –

He realized what he was thinking. As he had grown older, he had paid less and less attention to how his furniture looked, preferring comfortable chairs and couches.

This was how he had been in his youth, in his first apartment, when he wanted not only to be comfortable but stylish too. He was starting to think like his younger self.

He probably shouldn't have been too concerned, considering he was younger than he should be, but maybe under the impression of the catastrophic end of his not-date with Dean, he couldn't help but think this a bad omen. He knew nothing of how he had turned younger, knew nothing of how he and Patrick Langleben had exchanged their ages. Would he forget that he had ever been old? Was this the first sign?

He forced himself to calm down. Maybe this was the right direction, however; instead of trying to find Patrick Langleben, perhaps he should look for something that could make someone younger.

As impossible as it sounded, he had to consider one thing.

Magic.

He had been interested in folklore and legends his whole life, and of course he had stumbled over a few stories of people who had been turned younger or older; but he didn't think he'd ever heard one where it had to do with a card game.

Still, it was a start.

The library it was, then.

At least it would take his mind off Dean.

Dean probably used more violence to get a stubborn bolt out than was strictly necessary, but it felt good. At least his colleagues had guessed that he was not having a good day and kept mostly out of his way.

He was thankful that Sam hadn't called yet, demanding how the date that had not been a date but rather a very bad move on Dean's part had gone. He really didn't want to tell his brother how low he had sunk because he had found a guy hot.

And Cas hadn't just rejected him; he had run out of the house more or less screaming. That was bad, even for Dean. He didn't think any attempt at flirting of his had ever crushed and burned like that.

And why was he so caught up on it anyway? He'd known the guy for a day, and he had read the situation wrong, so what? He would apologize and that would be it.

Guilty, he realized he hadn't thought about Cas' uncle all day. You know, your actually neighbour who's dying? Who was nice enough to put up with you for months because you felt lonely?

Hopefully James would pull through. Not for Cas, not for Dean, but he deserved a little more time.

He remembered their evenings together, the old man telling him about his travels, somehow looking younger when he smiled, his eyes lighting up...

Cas really did remind him of James. A lot. And that wasn't a bad thing, not at all, because Dean really liked his neighbour.

Not... like that. Of course. He didn't want to bang his grandfather, thank you very much. But enough that he'd often wished in passing that the guy was younger, maybe his age...

And then Cas had shown up and damn it, if he hadn't got close to what Dean had always imagined James must have been like when he was younger. Not that he had imagined that. Alright, maybe from time to time – he'd just kind of built him up as this perfect guy because a perfect partner for Dean Winchester could only exist in a different time or universe and then suddenly Cas had been there.

Yeah, he really would apologize. And then he would get Castiel Novak out of his head.

Somehow, the thought of telling Dean the truth became more and more tempting as James made his way to the city, once more wishing for the old Lincoln he had driven for decades until he'd decided he wasn't safe to drive anymore.

He wished this had nothing to do with James wanting him to think well of him, but he knew himself better.

Still, Dean was used to this world of electronics and easy communication; he probably knew how to find someone –

But how could he tell him the truth after he had lied to him? After Dean had almost kissed him? Dean would never talk to him again. And he shouldn't. Even when he had been old, he had known that he held Dean back. He should have friends his age, a partner, someone who could live with him instead of waiting for his end.

Not that this would be a problem anymore. Dean believed his nephew had rejected him. He wouldn't want to visit after this.

James sighed, missing his trench coat. He had gone for a warm coat instead, remembering last night, but it had become a comfort for him over the years.

Still, he needed to get to the library. He might not find anything, but it was his best shot at finding something about magic, about lore. He could have used Google, but there were so many sites and he had no clue how to specify what he needed, so he would definitely prefer books.

He felt a little silly asking for books about magic and lore, but the young woman was happy to help him and soon he was surrounded by books explaining card tricks and other things.

There were a few books that took their subject matter seriously, thank God, but even then, James had no idea what to look for. And even if he found something, he doubted there was a chapter entitled "How to successfully break curses you had no idea were cast at the moment."

Still, he checked a few books out at the end of the day.

What he didn't expect was to see Dean waiting for him at his front door.

Dean was determined to apologize to Cas as soon as he got home, and to wait if he had to. He couldn't let that – misunderstanding linger. He had to say sorry, at least.

Cas wasn't home, so he stood outside the house for five minutes until he saw him walk up, a bag in his hands.

He took a deep breath, and as soon as he was near enough, he began, "I know you probably don't want to see me, but we need to talk."