AN: Thank you for your well wishes last week! I'm almost there - this time, next update, my life will be taking a different turn! I'm waiting with bated breath.

My apologies for my delays on replies - I have read and am grateful for every single one, and I will write you soon! Our internet has been off for four days straight, and only just recovered (in time for the update - huzzah!)

I hope you all had wonderful weeks!

Love,
Liffe
xxx

CHAPTER SEVEN

In the end, Amelia and Castiel arranged their lunch the morning of its due date. The late notice was hardly a hindrance – as Amelia well knew – Fridays were notoriously easy days on campus, when students far preferred to skip their afternoon's lectures and head home for the weekend. Castiel was scarcely ever required to attend his office hour for a graduate's request, and that afternoon was no different.

They met at a small café ten minutes' walk from the University, and Amelia had already ordered their drinks when they arrived – a latte for herself, and English Breakfast for Castiel. He seated himself silently before her as she smiled, a flicker of nervousness crossing her expression as he met her eyes, before she resolved herself and greeted him in earnest, with a quick squeeze of his hand and a warm grin.

"How are you, James?"

"I'm well."

Castiel's response was cordial enough, and he gratefully raised his tea before her and taking a sip, without adding the milk and sugar on display before him. Amelia smiled lightly, and raised a hand to the waitress, who hurriedly brought them two laminated menus and gestured to a blackboard above the counter.

"Specials today are a seafood chowder and a butternut pumpkin soup, served with homemade sourdough rolls."

She smiled politely as Amelia dismissed her with a nod, and bustled away to immediately begin clearing a table near them for the lunchtime rush.

Amelia's hand ran across her swelling belly as she read the menu, and Castiel's eye was drawn to it. She caught his gaze with a somewhat guilty expression, and her eyebrows raised, before Castiel followed with: "And how are you? Is everything proceeding well?"

Amelia nodded quickly and dropped her hand from her stomach.

"The latest check ups went well. We know the sex now too."

Her mouth twitched as Castiel's gaze dropped to her belly again and surveyed it.

"A surprise?"

"Not for you, if you want to know."

He felt a muscle at his neck twitch and looked up to find Amelia watching him carefully. There was a happy flush on her cheeks, even despite the cruelty of the circumstance that they were meeting over, and her face seemed fuller somehow – as though the skin were swollen with it. A stark contrast to her tone on her previous call.

His answer was silent – in an arch of an eyebrow – and she was well-practiced enough in his language to read it immediately.

"He's a boy."

Amelia's cheeks flushed bright red with the declaration, as though she could scarcely believe it, and her hand moved to her stomach again brazenly, clutching tightly.

Castiel felt his stomach twist at constrained emotion and forced a smile across his cheeks, dragging them to the sides of his face and baring his teeth in a pleasant expression. Amelia read the reluctance in it easily, despite his best efforts, and dropped her gaze.

"James?"

Castiel met Amelia's gaze and held it silently. Her expression dropped immediately, even though he said nothing. Across from him, Amelia shuffled. With a sigh, she lowered her voice, so her tone was soft. Her words, however were sharp.

"You know, I'm not betraying Claire, by having this."

There was a beat, before Castiel looked away guiltily.

"Of course you're not," Castiel adjusted in his seat, looking away from Amelia, and moving his hand to undo the top button of his dress shirt as he turned his eyes to the menu before him, scanning it sightlessly.

Amelia continued in any event, clearly unpersuaded: "I was 30 when we had her and… to have a second chance-"

Castiel cut across her, before the history between them could be too properly traversed.

"I do not begrudge you your happiness, Amy."

Amelia's eyes flickered up in challenge to Castiel's regardless, picking up on the forced tone of the exchange and moving straight to its heart.

"It's been three years. You cannot keep punishing yourself."

"Can we change the subject, please?"

Amelia pursed her lips and sniffed, before reaching for her latte and taking a sip. By the time it was back down on her plate, a smile was plastered on her face, and her tone was light and forced.

"Meg says you've been busy with your new study. Has it been interesting work?"

Castiel didn't raise his gaze to hers in order to respond, but gave an obvious sigh of relief in response and a moderate answer.

"Yes."

Castiel swallowed quickly at the sharpness of his tone, however, and quickly reached to take a sip of his tea, before murmuring, as though his previous indiscretion had not yet occurred:

"Yes, he's very….enigmatic."

Castiel watched as the mark of a frown appeared on Amelia's brow, which she attempted to smooth with a forced smile, though the action did little.

"You seemed… friendly, when he arrived the other week."

Castiel inclined his head slightly and met Amelia's eyes uncertainly. "He was in a good mood. Things are not always so courteous." Amelia's lips pursed around the bowl of her latte in a tight laugh and her eyes flickered up to him once. Things were tense still, but it was a hard habit to break – to be pleased at seeing her content – and a corresponding small smile spread across his lips.

"So… is he clairvoyant too, or…?"

"No. And no spirit guide either. He has a rather unique style… it makes for an interesting study."

Amelia nodded and deposited her bowl back on the table.

"I have to confess, I… googled him, after he came to the party. Just… he seemed a little unusual. Not your usual sort."

Castiel's eyes surveyed Amelia's quickly for a moment before he swallowed.

"No not at all…" Castiel agreed quickly. "But… that will make the study promising I hope. It's in its preliminary stages but... I should be able to publish off it."

"That's great." Amelia's smile was genuine and, another habit, Castiel felt himself swell with pride at being able to share that with her. Amelia, who Meg had always insisted was beyond his league – two Masters in Art History and Curation, her own successful gallery, beautiful, witty, kind and who had (incredibly) consented to bear his child. They might have parted poorly, but in the easier moments, she still bore a special shine for Castiel. It was the same shine that Claire had worn.

"He hasn't tried to talk about…" Amelia broached the subject nervously, with fingers fiddling at her bracelet. Castiel hurried quickly to dissuade her concern, and the lie felt acidic on his tongue:

"No. No. Of course not. It's a very professional relationship."

He fought to meet Amelia's eyes, rather than look away – it was his tell, he knew, and one that Amelia knew well. If she detected his concentrated effort, she didn't say.

"Well, that's just wonderful. Really. I'm so happy for you."

She reached across the table to squeeze Castiel's hand once, before smiling as the waitress approached to take their orders.

"I'll have the Ravioli, please?"

Castiel gestured between them: "The same for me, thank you."

The waitress returned the smile as they handed back their menus, and her gaze passed between them and Amelia's pregnant belly. "Coming right up".

She didn't say 'congratulations', but it was implicit in the fondness of her expression, and Amelia colored as she walked away. She looked back to the table, rather than Castiel, and tapped there with manicured nails.

"I hear you're planning on moving house."

"Oh, yes." Amelia seized on the topic quickly, leaning forward on the table and raising her gaze back to the conversation.

"You would just love it, James. Gabriel – do you remember him? From the party? He was Kali's husband."

Castiel nodded quickly, and Amelia grinned.

"He actually found it. It's just perfect. It's just one storey, with the largest back yard you've ever seen. And the light is- Wait…." She fumbled in her purse, extracting an iphone and flicking through it. "I took some pictures on the visit, look-"

She held the phone out for Castiel to take and he flipped through the images, smiling lightly as Amelia launched into a narrative of the process that had brought them to its purchase.

"We were so lucky. I mean, it would have been snapped up so quickly. Gabe really spoiled us."

She took the phone back with a grin as Castiel passed it to her. "You know, if you were ever looking at finding another place … I'm sure he would be only too happy to help."

Castiel shook his head mutely. "I'm happy where I am. It's close to the University."

"Oh. No, of course. I just mean, if you ever did want a bigger home, for…" She trailed off, and her hand went protectively to her belly, making clear the meaning behind her statement.

Castiel flashed her a disingenuous smile.

"I'll bear it in mind."

Amelia held her breath for a moment, before rushing out: "Have you met… anyone?" She looked as if she regretted the question before she had even asked it, and immediately turned her attention to her latte and swirled her spoon through it pointlessly. Castiel huffed out a little expression of incredulity.

"Amy…"

"You know, Kali couldn't believe it when I said you were single. She thought you were an absolute catch."

Castiel appreciated Amelia's quick rectification of her error, and smiled lightly at her to demonstrate his forgiveness.

"That was kind of her to say. I'm sure her husband wouldn't approve though."

Amelia rolled her eyes and leaned backwards as the waitress returned with their meals.

"Thanks."

Castiel gave a thankful smile to the waitress too, as she cleared their drinks away. They took to their meals quickly, and the breaks between chews were hardly enough for Amelia to continue her line of questioning. Asides from a little small talk regarding the house, and Amelia recounting a dinner party she had hosted with Kali and Gabriel, it was easy to forget the subject. The moment his fork was lowered though, and he was brushing his napkin across his face, Amelia's tone turned serious again and her eyes wide as she watched for Castiel's reaction.

"You know James… there was something I wanted to ask you though."

"Go ahead."

Amelia pursed her lips and took a sip of water before picking up her fork and moving it idly around her empty plate.

"I… well, feel free to say no. But…" She swallowed. "Look, maybe this is inappropriate, I-"

"Amy, just ask. I promise, if it is, we can let it drop."

Amelia's hands dropped to the table and she moved to finger a bracelet at her wrist. It was a heavy, gaudy thing – engraved with a brassy emblem of flowers. He didn't remember her owning it when they had lived together, and it shone like a recent acquisition. He wondered idly if Balthazar had bought it for her.

"When the baby comes… well, I'm not sure how to phrase this…"

She blushed and moved to fiddling with her engagement ring on her fourth finger. There was no wedding band yet – after the baby and the new house, presumably, though Amelia had never let him in on the exact plan.

"Look, it's not like… godfather. But I wondered if you might… if you might want to be… involved. With him."

Amelia's words were utterly unexpected and Castiel froze at the opposite end of the table. Amelia obviously registered or anticipated the movement, for she didn't even look up from her wrist, only biting her lip and murmuring:

"Look, I know it seems odd. But… well, James, you were such a wonderful father. And, if you don't have plans to try again, I… I don't want all of that to go to waste."

Castiel swallowed quickly and spoke around a cracked voice. "What… about Balthazar?"

Amelia colored and stared more determinedly at the table. "I won't lie, it's not like it was his idea. But… look its more symbolic than anything. I just want you to know that you're welcome. And that this… chasm," she pronounced the word with difficulty, gesturing between them without raising her gaze, "between us… it doesn't extend to this little boy. I know it's going to be awkward, but… well, I'd rather have you there than not. You were always made to be a father."

Amelia's words punctured the balloon blown between them that kept history from reasserting itself, and the table swam before Castiel as Amelia's words reverberated back to him in a series of memories, in which the words had been bestowed with fond eyes and soul-dropping kisses.

The first time, when Amelia had staggered from the bathroom, tears in her eyes, holding a thin white stick in her hand. They left it by the coffee table as they made love on the couch, and Castiel had kissed and kissed at her belly, murmuring love for the child just yet made and for the woman so wonderful as to create her for both of them.

The second, when Amelia was three months pregnant, and her nephew Jesse had come to visit. Castiel was nervous and awkward and suddenly terrified that he would soon be responsible for such a small, precious thing and had been stilted around him. That night, when he had stared at the ceiling for hours, doubting his own capacity for anything so important as parenthood, Amelia had laid his hand across his stomach and promised with whispers in his ear that he would make a wonderful father.

The third time, when – one month to go – Amelia had sent him to the baby store to stock up on nappies and creams.

"We're going to be exhausted when she comes, James. No one's going to want to go to the store then".

He'd come home with her requests, and another stuffed bag full of glittery ballet flats, a princess costume and a red and white polka dotted dress made for two years olds. Amelia had burst into tears when she saw his offerings, and heard his feeble excuse: "They were… I just thought they were cute."

The fourth time, when Castiel had held his daughter for the first time and dropped a trembling, tearful kiss to the crown of her head while Amelia looked on – still panting and sweating from a sixteen hour labor. He'd never loved Amelia more than in that second, for she had created the most beautiful thing. And when he had looked down and whispered to his daughter: "You look just like your mother. Your most beautiful, wonderful mother. Thank goodness", Amelia had burst into incredulous laughter and pulled him close to kiss his lips. "She has your eyes, you idiot. They're the loveliest part."

Birthday parties, children's playgrounds, even severe telling-offs when Claire threw a tantrum in a supermarket, or tried to draw on furniture. So many moments where Amelia had looked at him proudly, and he had felt the surest certainty that he knew what he was doing – all encapsulated in that one word, despite every other achievement. Father.

"Castiel?"

Castiel looked up blearily to find Amelia watching him, seemingly stricken. "I'm sorry, it's too much. I-"

Castiel held up a hand and wiped at his eyes quickly. "It's nothing. I just need a moment."

The waitress kept her eyes cast downward as she came to collect their plates, although she cheerily accepted Amelia's thanks and request for the bill. Once the girl had departed, Amelia reached forward and squeezed his hand.

"You can take some time to think about it if you need. There's no rush. I mean," she reached down to her stomach, "there's still a few more months. Plenty of time."

The girl returned with their check and, even as Castiel fumbled for his card, Amelia waved him off. "This one's on me." He flicked her a grateful smile, replacing his wallet in his bag. They sat in silence until the girl returned and Amelia signed the receipt.

"I best be letting you get back. I'm sure you're busy."

"Yes."

Castiel's stomach swirled as he reached down and took his satchel, hanging it on his shoulder. With a beat for consideration, Castiel moved around the table and dropped a kiss to Amelia's cheek, squeezing her elbow as he moved away. She leaned into the touch minutely – not with the sense of romance that used to be there, but for the sake of the small comfort in the wake of almost pronouncing Claire's name. As the space between them closed, Castiel felt the brush of her swollen belly against his, and a rush of saliva erupted on his tongue in predecession to bile at the familiarity of the sensation – and the distinct hollowness that now remained where he'd once felt ownership of the idea.

She was smiling lightly as she pulled back, and let her hand drop from Castiel's arm, slinging her handbag across her shoulder and looking up at him in a silent acknowledgment of grief.

"We'll talk soon. If you'd like."

Castiel nodded briefly and let Amelia lead them from the café. She met his eyes once more on the sidewalk, before turning and making her way to an unfamiliar and garish vehicle that Castiel presumed was Balthazar's. He waited until she was settled inside before raising a hand in farewell, and she waved back once, before reversing slightly and giving herself the space to pull out onto the quiet street.

The walk back to the University was a fraught one, as Castiel mulled Amelia's suggestion over – with equal parts anger at the dismissal of Claire, and gratefulness at her kindness and the prospect of a little less loneliness in future.

His afternoon at the University passed quickly, mostly responding emails and assembling papers. There was one from Meg, with her invitation for an event simply titled "Drinking". Attached was also the latest chapter of her book, for peer review, and labeled as "READ ME!" Castiel grinned, downloaded the attachment to his desktop, and reached for his phone as it buzzed with a text.

As expected, it was from Dean: "We still gd?"

He texted back a solitary "yes", and proceeded back to the University carpark and driving directly to Dean's. Ten minutes early, Dean still answered the door before he had the chance to knock, with a wide grin.

"Glad you made it, Cas. Come on, let's get going."

Dean, despite is good mood, was silent for much of the car ride, aside from tapping out a rhythm across the steering wheel and whistling a few notes – none of which appeared to bear any melodic relationship with one another. Twenty minutes into the car ride, however, he turned to Castiel and stated, with seeming expectation for a positive response: "I met someone yesterday."

Castiel's eyes narrowed as he turned to face Dean and raised an eyebrow.

"Where?"

"On the street."

His face drained of color as Castiel balked and his mouth opened in protest.

"No. Shit. No I don't mean..."

There was a beat before Dean's horrified expression cracked into one of laughter and he turned back to check the road, slamming his hands on the steering wheel.

"Jeez, Cas, you should see your face. Oh my God." Dean shook his head in amusement, eyes flickering between their path and the flush rising on Castiel's cheeks at the misunderstanding.

"I'm not that desperate, man."

He ran his hands along the surface of the steering wheel a few times, and he tapped out an amused beat while his laughter subsided.

"Actually…" he bit his lip as he turned back to look at Castiel, "it was kinda creepy. I though this guy was following me at first. Well, he was. I actually started running."

At Castiel's second blanche, Dean chortled and looked over apologetically.

"Ok, it's not like it sounds. But this woman met me as I was running the other way. They kinda herded me, but…"

His shoulder twitched and he looked back to the road, rolling his upper half once, twice, before settling back in his seat. "When I calmed down, we got to talking. They were passengers on the train. The one that derailed. Well… some of them. Others had relatives that didn't make it."

His expression dropped momentarily and his eyes ran across the road ahead in a quick survey before he turned back to Castiel.

"We went and got a coffee, and just talked… about what had happened."

His eyes flickered to Castiel's satchel at his lap, and back up with amusement.

"Isn't this the kinda stuff you'd usually wanna write down, Cas?"

Castiel stared for a moment, before tapping his temple with two fingers. "I'll remember."

Dean whistled and grinned, before turning back to the road. "I feel great, though. You know? Like the weight of it has just gone. Especially after what happened the other week."

Castiel didn't acknowledge the exceedingly quick timeframe between the abrupt changes of attitude towards the accident. Dean's mood swings were not unexpected at this stage, and the circumstance which he spoke of provided a comfortable explanation for the change. "I feel like…this is the beginning of fixin' it. You know? You, and now these guys… I know part of this whole therapy thing is working through the past. Maybe this is the start of it."

He grinned at Castiel once, and turned back to the road, head swinging to some kind of silent melody that had enlivened his spirit. Castiel settled back in his seat and let Dean fumble with the radio, pressing a dusty cassette tape into the player and slamming his head down when the shrill scream of a guitar pierced the car.

When Castiel turned to him slowly, eyebrows raised, Dean blew a raspberry at him childishly and grinned.

"Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole."

Castiel kept his cakehole well and truly shut for the duration of the journey, until an half an hour later, Dean pulled into a well landscaped and modern driveway of a kind of cottage situated in the outer suburbia of Carmel. The sounds of the Imapla's doors shutting were enough to draw out its resident – a small yet muscular woman, wrapped in a long soft cardigan, with her hair cut short and swept across her face. Dean smiled and extended his hand to shake hers while Castiel extricated himself from the car, and she inclined her head at him in greeting while Dean gestured politely at her garden. When Castiel was beside them, she lead them inside quickly and to a small sitting room, already equipped with biscuits and tea.

Dean wrinkled his nose at the pot, but smiled politely and accepted the offering when the woman's eyes turned to him, although he kept his lips pursed around the rim of the mug as he took a draught.

The woman offered Castiel the biscuits, which he declined, but accepted a tea from her, before she sat herself in the armchair next to Dean's. A moment later, she stood and reached out to extend her hand to Castiel, flushing: "I'm so sorry, I've forgotten my manners. I'm Jody Mills."

Castiel, halfway through his tea, managed to cough out a gruff: "Castiel Novak."

With a twitching smile, Jody took his hand and shook it firmly, before seating herself again and crossing her legs in front of her. "I understand you're a psychologist, Castiel."

He nodded, settling back in his chair and looking to Dean, who shrugged.

Her mouth twitched as she wrapped her cardigan around her tightly: "You must think me something of a fool."

Jody met his eyes evenly, but there was embarrassment there too as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. Dean looked to Castiel quickly and raised an eyebrow in warning. Castiel noted it and refrained from pulling his notepad from his satchel.

"I'm here with an open mind, Jody."

"Hm." She pursed her lips once, and raised a hand to brush her hair from her forehead, before holding her fingers before her lips. "Truth be told, I feel a little insane for this. It's not usually in my job description to rely on this kind of thing."

"What do you do?"

Jody huffed out a small laugh and brought her hand back to her lap. "I'm a cop. Deputy Sheriff, actually. On leave at the moment though. My colleagues think I've been overworked. Maybe I have. I mean…"

She looked up at Dean and flushed in embarrassment. He merely shrugged and leaned forward to take one of the proffered biscuits, stalling mid-munch when he realized how audible the crunching sound was to the otherwise silent room. With one final chew, he swallowed, only to cough viciously a few seconds later as the dry crumbs caught in his throat.

Jody rolled her eyes in a positively motherly fashion and retrieved his tea for him, and Dean, despite his disgust was forced to take it from her and drain it in order to force the expulsion to stop. When he was done, Jody was holding back slight laughter, and Dean was affronted when he looked to see the same was true for Castiel across the table. There was a playful joke in Dean's eyes though, as he turned back to Jody and encouraged her to continue with a light nod of his head.

She misconstrued it though, and looked around the room cautiously. "I-is… he here?"

Dean looked at her for a second, before considering the room once and shaking his head.

"There's no one here right now. But…" he stood carefully and moved around the room, running his hands over items and hovered in the doorway to the hall looking down it.

With a question in his posture, he turned back to Jody uncertainly and pointed down the hall with an arched eyebrow. When she nodded, seemingly out of confusion more than anything else, and he proceeded down the corridor without further permission, running his hands along the walls and pausing at certain points.

Jody stood quickly to follow him, looking at Castiel as she passed and murmuring: "What is he doing?"

Castiel shook his head in lack of explanation and stood too to follow Dean, in time to see him pause at the end of the hallway before a closed door and look to Jody.

"This is where you saw…?"

Castiel turned to see Jody freeze at the end of the hall and nod. Dean twisted the handle without awaiting further explanation, stepping into the room and looking around – pausing halfway through his rotation, before sighing and gesturing quickly to Jody.

"Yeah ok. Come in here."

She hurried down the hallway after him, and Castiel followed in a fast enough pursuit. Inside, he found Dean standing in a bedroom – equipped for two, but with a sense of staleness on one side. Two bedside tables were arranged at each end of a queen-sized bed, and while one was haphazardly adorned with reading glasses, a pile of books, and a few bottles of pills, the other was pristine and untouched and the duvet was smooth and un-creased. At Castiel's glance at the pills, Jody met his eyes evenly: "Insomnia," she muttered unflinchingly, albeit almost with a tone of excuse, before both their gazes turned back to Dean as he rotated around the room.

His attention fell to the wardrobe and he pulled open its doors, looking to Jody for permission, before running his hands along a well-maintained set of men's clothes that smelled musty – even across the room where Castiel stood. Dean's brow furrowed as he took the edge of one and inspected it between his fingers, before turning to a vanity at the edge of the room and picking up a framed photograph – featuring Jody and a smiling bald man, both of them garbed in outdoors wear and heaving heavy tramping packs across their shoulders. Their cheeks were pressed together tightly and the angle was awkward – but it was a pleasant picture. Human, in its deficient aspects, Castiel thought mildly.

Dean traced the edge of the photograph with his fingers lightly, before inspecting is corner as well, turning back to Jody and murmuring: "T-Tom?"

Castiel gritted his teeth as Jody stiffened beside him, before she whispered: "I-i-is he here?"

Dean's brow furrowed and he searched the room quickly, before shaking his head. "Not really. He's on the periphery… he's… he doesn't want to frighten you. The last-"

He looked back to the wardrobe, squinting, before turning back to Jody and letting his jaw slide from side to side.

"I'm just getting water. This whole place smells damp to me. Does that mean something?"

Jody's face twisted and she nodded quickly, raising a hand to her mouth and smothering a soft sigh as Dean moved back to the wardrobe and commenced rifling through the clothes – finding a piece that seemed to suit his needs and scrunching it in his hands. His eyes slid closed and for a moment the room pulsed with the energy of his performance.

Castiel took a step back behind Jody, fingers twitching as Dean's chest began to heave. Within a matter of moments, his breath turned from even to wheezing, and then seemed to stop, as he leaned forwards and his mouth gaped open. His hand went to his chest, rather than his throat, and he clutched there tightly, squeezing his eyes shut and making gagging motions that turned into hacking coughs.

"Dean?"

Castiel started forward but Dean held out his hand in a gesture that clearly signaled Castiel was to stop, and squeezed out. "Yeah… ok… stop."

Almost immediately, Dean's shoulders relaxed, and while he leaned closer to the floor to hack out a few extra coughs, his face quickly returned to a better color. He wiped at it with his hands a few times, before straightening and murmuring to himself: "Yeah, ok, no more of that. You're freaking her out."

In front of him, Jody's knees quaked even though she stood her ground. Dean caught Castiel's gaze over her shoulder, before he turned to Jody with a soft expression:

"You know what that was, don't you?"

She nodded again and bit into her fist, while her shoulders quaked at the beginning of silent sobs. Dean bit his lip and closed his eyes again, breathing evenly and nodding again. "Ok. Ok." He opened his eyes again and moved to the bed at the centre of the room, taking in its state, and turning to Jody.

"He's really sorry about the other night. He didn't want to frighten you."

Jody swallowed around a small cry and looked to the bed, before turning back to Dean. Her face twitched at the eyelids from the unrestrained emotion that seemed primed to erupt, but stared evenly enough and awaited his explanation. Dean seemed slightly at a loss, however, and he looked back to the wardrobe, closing his eyes and huffing. He waited like that for a minute, holding his palm out like he was assuring someone to stop, before his brow furrowed and he looked back to Jody.

"It's… it's a little garbled. Can- Can you tell me what happened? What he showed you?"

Jody swallowed and moved uncertainly forward to sit on the bed. Dean watched her for a moment, before following suit, and sitting in the opposite corner. His hand moved to trace along its markings lightly and Jody's eyes caught on the movement – mouth dropping open.

"It was… I woke up around midnight and my bed was just… it was drenched. Freezing cold and soaking wet."

She shivered slightly as she ran her hands along the now dry and fluffy duvet, pinching a piece of the cotton covering between her fingers. "And in the wardrobe, all his clothes were dripping. But the floor was still dry."

She looked to the vanity and pointed at the picture Dean had been holding. He retrieved it for her without question and let her cradle it in her hands, running her fingers along the edge of the silhouette she created with the man it was obvious now, in the circumstance, had been her husband.

"This picture…" she brought her hand to her mouth again, "it was as though someone had spilled water on it. It was all wavy and distorted. But just his face. Not mine."

She looked up to Dean with a trembling lip.

"Is he angry at me? I-"

Dean shook his head quickly and took the picture from her, replacing it with the hold of both of his hands and running his fingers across the same part. "No, I don't think so… no… not much. I mean, there's a part that feels like anger, but… no, it's more like frustration."

Jody bit her lip and squeezed her hand tighter around the duvet. Castiel, for his own part, moved slowly backwards until he was positioned against the wall of the room as a mere observer.

"It's been four years. I missed him so much. I haven't been able to move any of it. Any of his things. His tackle box is still in the boot of his car, even. I left it parked in the garage."

She sniffed lightly, and raised a hand to rub at her cheek and remove a tear that threatened to pour there, before looking back at Dean."Just recently… I met someone. Well, not met… he used to know Tom. A cop as well. He was at the funeral and spoke for him, and-"

She cut herself off with a heavy sob. Dean, surprisingly without reservations, opened his arm and made a space for her. Even more surprising, she quickly went to it, dropping her head to his shoulder. There was such a gentleness in the way Dean closed his arm around her that she scarcely seemed alarmed at its intimacy. With his hold firm, Dean closed his eyes again and sighed.

"You've moved on," he murmured quietly, running a thumb across the knob of her shoulder. She shook her head into his shoulder and gave a small sob.

"I… I still miss Tom every day. But… Roger… he's a good man. He's taken care of me since. Always looked out for me. And I thought… neither of us would want to take away from Tom's memory…"

Dean nodded, eyes still closed, and his mouth quirked. "He says you haven't let him here."

"What?"

"Roger." Dean answered simply, lips fighting against a wider grin.

Jody looked up at him, and despite the inappropriateness of Dean's smile in the circumstance, something about it attracted her attention. When she spoke, it was almost as if she were speaking to Dean as a vehicle.

"No. No, I mean… I can't bring myself to… even open his drawers."

Dean breathed out a quickly laugh and opened his eyes, before looking back to Castiel once and grinning.

"Jody… it's not like that at all. He's not angry at you."

Jody raised her gaze and watched Dean carefully, and he smiled kindly and softly, eyes surveying her face with such uncareful intimacy that they might have known each other for years. The sight seemed to stir something in Jody, and she recoiled slightly from his hold, if only for the perspective to survey his face more carefully.

Something drew Dean's eyes to the doorway and he looked there for a moment, before murmuring: "come closer."

Jody turned with Castiel to look at the space but saw only empty air, though Dean grinned and beckoned again: "I won't bite. Come on." He then sat in silence for half a minute, nodding and breathing slowly, staring at the spot. As he did so, his arm moved off Jody's shoulder and he snickered once.

"Things… kinda got lost in translation, didn't they?"

Jody searched his face for more clarification, but Dean only remained fixed on the empty point in space. "The clothes and the photo… he thinks you ought to get rid of them. Or put them away. You should clean up the space."

He pursed his lips for a moment and nodded: "Roger's a good man. He likes him. He likes that he'll take care of you. Um…" His mouth ticked slightly and his eyes flickered towards the doorway: "Shit, no, I can't say that!"

"What?"

Dean's eyes flickered back to Jody and his mouth fell open slightly in a dumbstruck expression.

"Your guy kinda has a … rough sense of humor."

Even as the tears commenced a fresh flow down her face, Jody couldn't hide a chuckle that erupted from her throat, and the sight of it had Dean's mouth curling into a soft smile.

"Yeah. Yeah… he's a good man."

He shut his eyes again for a moment and nodded softly, commencing a bumbling narrative even as he kept them closed.

"There's a few things he wants you to keep. There's a… a rugby team? What the hell is… oh, ok. The shirt – you have to keep that. And… the photos…like you'd throw those out, he says… the ring… Roger's gonna give you some nice things, he wants you to have the space for them."

He opened his eyes, and looked at Jody with a kind of fondness that didn't befit their brief acquaintance.

"That's it… he's… he's saying he's going to go now… I'm just getting a lot of love… and he's saying chin up superstar... yes…yeah… that's it… he's gonna go now."

Dean looked up towards the doorway and Jody's eyes tracked the movement. There was still nothing there, but upon the bed, a tiny shiver wracked Jody's body, and Dean moved his eyes away in embarrassment.

"Is… is he still here?"

Dean looked behind Jody to another point on the bed and nodded slowly. "He's just… he's happy. He's really happy for you."

Jody's eyes brimmed over at that, and she moved her arms to hug around herself, staring out at the empty space around her and sobbing lightly. Her face pinched at the centre as her body twisted around the last expression of grief, and she nodded softly yet urgently to the empty room.

Dean nodded at the space, before turning to Jody quickly, eyes a little watery.

"He can hear you, if there's anything you want to say. You don't have to say it out loud if you don't want to. He'll hear."

Jody's lip trembled as she looked back at Dean and nodded, before hanging her head for a moment and squeezing her eyes shut. When she looked back up, her breathing had slowed, and Dean nodded softly.

"He heard. He'll be at peace."

Jody's tears verbalized in a soft cry that had her leaning forward and burying her face against her knees. Dean ran a soft hand across her back until the tears subsided, and Castiel hovered awkwardly at the door. When he made to leave it, Dean shook his head, and gave Jody's shoulder a squeeze, bringing her back upwards and meeting her eyes.

"It'll be ok. You've waited enough time, and he understands…."

She bit her lip and nodded. "It feels like he only just left."

"He doesn't want you to be alone."

Dean's eyes moved to Castiel's and he held them for a moment, before looking away.

"Can you do that for him? Can you move on… with this Roger guy?"

She smiled lightly through her tears and nodded carefully, before reaching for Dean's hands and squeezing them tightly within hers.

"Thank you, Dean. Thank you so much."

Dean accepted the praise modestly, and looked away embarrassed when Jody's eyes shone with bone deep gratitude. He stayed beside her though, no longer touching her, and suddenly far more closed off in his body language – moving his legs together tighter and keeping his hands wedged between his legs. Jody sobbed for a little while, but quickly recovered herself, smiling through tears and suddenly brighter.

When the episode had reduced to sniffling, she stood officiously and led them back to the kitchen. Their drinks were cold, but she kindly offered fresh ones, which Dean declined politely.

"Cas here is a lecturer. He's got gradin' to do. I'd love to stay Jody, but…"

"No. No. It's quite alright."

Her embarrassed posture betrayed it wasn't quite, but Dean stepped forward quickly and laid a comforting hand on her arm.

"You have a call to make anyway. Don't make Roger wait too long now."

He gave her a quick wink and a click of his tongue. Castiel shot a quick look at him, immediately worried he had pushed the acquaintance too far, but Jody only chortled through another threatening eruption of emotion, and lead them to the door.

At the threshold, she held Dean back and fumbled in her purse for some notes. Dean immediately went to protest, but she shoved them into his hand brashly, and stepped out of his reach when he tried to push them back.

"Bobby told me you'd be like that about the money, but…" she wiped at her nose with the back of her sleeve. "I won't take no for an answer. It's not a crime to accept thanks every once in a while."

Dean still kept his hand outstretched with the notes, but she ignored him, until eventually Castiel cleared his throat and (with a resentful glance at them both) Dean pocketed the money. Jody's eyes flickered to Castiel's and met them, slightly wary, but still kind.

"You keep an eye on this one. He's a good boy. And he trusts you."

Dean spluttered indignantly as Jody stepped backwards, even through her tearful expression throwing a wink at Dean, before she closed the door between them. Castiel looked away as Dean turned to him, utterly embarrassed, and placed his hands in his pockets. Without an answer for the circumstance, Dean had little choice but to murmur something unintelligible, before he whirled and stalked back to his car, fumbling as he arrived there with his keys and seemingly unable to select the appropriate tool.

"Dean?"

Dean didn't have the audacity to look back to Castiel as he came up behind him and looked at his flushed neck. "Yeah?" His voice was high, and a little rough, clearly rattled by whatever he had inferred from Jody's statement, though the words themselves were scarcely meaningful. Castiel's gaze dropped to his hands, where they worried at his keys, and when he looked back up to squint at Dean, the words he offered were not those had intended.

"Would you like me to drive? You have had a tiring afternoon."

"What?" Dean paused mid-rifle through is keys, and looked to Castiel, cheeks coloring slightly with embarrassment. "I…uh… What I meant to say was, I don't usually let anyone drive my baby, Cas."

Castiel stepped back immediately, holding up his hands in surrender. "My mistake."

He pocketed his hands and made to move around to the other side of the Impala. As he reached the passenger door, however, he found Dean staring and him. With a swallow, he bashfully held out the keys across the car's roof. "I am actually beat though, if…"

Castiel contemplated the keys for a moment before he took them from Dean's outstretched hand, and moved to swap places with him around the front of the car. They slid onto the front seat simultaneously, and Dean kept his gaze down and focused as Castiel carefully placed the key into the ignition and triggered the engine to life beneath them.

He inched out carefully from the curb, wary of the car's strength compared to his own and Dean's stiff posture beside him as he followed every movement of Castiel's hands on the Impala's gear shift and wheel with the attention of a driving instructor taking a fifteen year old for their first lesson. Around ten minutes in though, he seemed sufficiently comfortable to take his eyes off Castiel, and instead turn them to the road, which he watched with some ferocity for warning of oncoming hazards.

After he had borne the silence long enough, Castiel asked: "Is that kind of encounter perhaps more typical of what you would usually do?"

Dean looked over to him quickly, before wringing his hands at his chest.

"Uh, yeah, I guess. When I go to conventions and shows and stuff, it's usually just… comfort."

Castiel nodded and stared straight ahead at the road.

"I thought you did well, speaking with Jody. Regardless of what I believe you saw, I think she benefitted from the encounter."

Dean was silent beside Castiel, but he felt Dean's eyes on him as he drove down the straight road, staring out at the horizon. Eventually, Dean conceded with a small, pleased-sounding murmur: "Thanks, Cas."

Castiel's mouth pulled into a line, and he kept his eyes fixed forward, even as he felt Dean's roaming his face for the duration of the journey. When they arrived at Dean's home, he stopped the car and a silence fell in the absence of the heavy engine.

"D'you… want to arrange the next session now, or… wait until I get a call?"

Dean seemed almost shy as he looked at Castiel across the seat, and looked away immediately when Castiel turned his gaze upon him.

"You're happy to continue?"

Dean's eyes flickered once and he looked at Castiel curiously. "Yeah, I mean… nothing went wrong today did it?"

Castiel watched Dean for a moment before he turned away, and beside him he heard Dean exhale.

"I think it best if we carry it out here -"

"Any night of the week, Cas. After work. You can pop by."

Dean's mouth fell open as Castiel turned to him. "I mean… 'cause I'll just be at home."

Castiel licked his lips and nodded once, before opening the door to his side and sliding out, dragging his satchel with him. Dean watched him go before moving to the other side and stepping out, standing and leaning across the Impala as he watched Castiel lock its doors.

"So… just text me?"

"I will, Dean."

Castiel held out the keys across the roof of the car, and Dean took them – quickly pocketing them with a sudden protectiveness that had not quite befitted the fact that Castiel had spent the last hour with them in his possession.

With a small wave, Castiel moved towards his own car and unlocked it. Dean waited beside his own, watching carefully as Castiel started the engine and painstakingly pulled on his seatbelt – checking twice that it was secure, before turning and waving once more at Dean.

On the ride back to the University, and as he typed up his case notes for the afternoon on his laptop, a small smile played around his lips. When Meg stopped by to check on his progress in reading her chapter, she crossed her arms and jutted a hip, asking coyly: "What's got you so happy then?"

She dragged him to a nearby bar for a glass of wine and an update, during which time he explained with modest contentment: "I think Dean has had his first breakthrough."

Meg punched him on the shoulder in congratulations, before superstitiously letting the subject drop. She knew as well as he did that it could collapse at any time. Dean's trust in him was faint and uncertain. But Castiel was sure, whatever afflicted him, was yet movable.

As they wandered back to the University, she surveyed his face in the early evening with a pleased expression.

"What?"

She shrugged quickly and zipped up her jacket, turning her gaze to the passing cars and veering closer to him on the sidewalk.

"It's good to see you smiling, Clarence. That's all."