{A.N. And here's more! I know it's a real short one but I wanted this chapter to happen and for this conversation between Dean and Cas to occur, so now you'll find out a little bit more of Dean's backstory!

Thanks again for all the wonderful reviews! Slycat888: Thanks, I really want to get a nice median between the two and I think it's working well! Otex: Yeah, it's going to take a while for innocent words and phrases to stop having a bad effect on Cas, there'll probably be more soon. ktravierso: your wish is my command...Mari Magda: I suppose the hug was very very gentle! We'll soon see how well Cas stands up in court, literally...MonsterV: you'll be happy with this chapter then...Linsey: thanks a bunch for your kind words! And here is some backstory! Gustin azza: yeah, Dean's good like that :) }

Chapter 8

Castiel's first week out of hospital was the most relaxing week he'd had in years. Dean had given up his bed for Cas, despite Cas's protests, and allowed him to sleep in late every morning. When Cas woke up, a hot breakfast awaited him in the living room where Dean's small dining table was set up in a nook with a huge window next to it looking out onto the wintry streetscape. Then Dean would check Cas's injuries, making sure to be as gentle as possible, rebinding the ones that still needed bandages. Sam and Jess would come over, they'd share a pot of coffee and have a light lunch of sandwiches or salad. Afterwards Sam and Dean would talk privately in Dean's bedroom while Jess and Cas caught up on the couch, before having dinner.

Castiel liked Jessica. She was sweet and kind and didn't pity him or try to sympathise with something she had no experience with. She simply asked how he was and was generally more interested in his medical prognosis. He politely chatted to her during that first week, but what he really wanted to know was what Dean and Sam were talking about in private.

Finally on Sunday night of that week he summed up the courage to ask Dean. The policeman was currently making dinner for them, some kind of pasta. Alastair had never cooked for Cas, he always assumed that Cas ate breakfast after he left for work and had dinner before he got home, which was generally true. Even on weekends Cas hardly ever saw Alastair until night time, with the lawyer off meeting with his legal friends or doing something else that he didn't invite Cas to.

"What are you making?" he asked, peering over Dean's shoulder at the sauce bubbling away on the stovetop.

"Spaghetti Bolognese," Dean announced with a smile as he saw Castiel cock his head to one side, curious. "What is it?"

"I've never had spaghetti Bolognese cooked from scratch for me before," Castiel replied, the last three words only just whispered.

"Well I suppose this is a pretty special night then, huh?" Dean said, his fingers finding Cas's as he stirred the sauce. They stood there for a couple minutes until Dean squeezed Cas's hand and let it go to start cooking the pasta. Cas left Dean's side to set the dining table for dinner with knives, forks and cloth napkins that he found in a drawer at one end of the table. Then on the spur of the moment he picked up the two tall white candles that Dean had for some reason on top of a low bookcase and placed them on the table too. He rifled through the other drawer inside the dining table and found spare candles and, what he was really looking for, a lighter, and lit the ones he'd placed on the table. Then he found the dimmer switch for the living/dining room and turned down the light slightly.

Dean noticed the light dimming behind him and turned around, looking into the living room. He immediately caught sight of the nicely made up table and smiled. "Oh, Cas you didn't have to do that," he admonished lightly, with an appreciative smile on his face.

"It was worth it," Cas said, "to see you smile."

Dean gave the pasta and sauce a quick once over before walking into the now soft lighting of the dining nook and right up to Cas. He noticed Cas stiffen slightly but he raised his hands up to the other man's upper arms and stroked his tanned skin gently, feeling Castiel relax beneath his fingers.

"Thank you Cas," Dean whispered to him.

"For what?" Castiel asked, a little confused. Without warning Dean leaned in and kissed him on the mouth. At first, Cas was surprised and recoiled just a little, but a split second later he returned the kiss. Dean pulled away and ran his thumb across Cas's bottom lip.

"For that," he smiled.


Fifteen minutes later and the two of them were sitting down to dinner at the dining table. Dean had pulled out a bottle of red wine and, even though Cas wasn't much of a drinker, he had to admit that it was delicious and suited the meal perfectly. After taking his first bite, Cas smiled happily.

"Dean, it's amazing," he said in awe.

"I'm glad you like it," Dean replied, smiling back. Silence took over for a few moments as they tucked into their food but Cas finally broke it with the question he'd been wanting to ask all week.

"What do you and Sam talk about when you go into your room?"

"We, uh…" Dean wasn't sure if should say. The last time anyone had mentioned it, Cas had gone white as a ghost. But he shouldn't keep things from the man, Dean decided, especially if he wanted Cas to trust him. "We've been talking about the trial."

"Oh," Castiel replied, his eyes lowering.

"Hey, Cas, there's nothing to be afraid of I promise you," Dean said reaching out a hand to gently lift Castiel's face back up.

"That's easy for you to say, Dean," Cas said, refusing to look at the other man. Dean dropped his hand and sighed.

"I guess I'd better tell you then," he said.

"Tell me what?" Cas asked, hesitantly, wary of speaking rudely to the other man.

"When I first started at the police academy I was straight out of school, nineteen years old. I started with a bunch of other guys and one of them was just amazing. Michael, his name was. He would get the top score on every written test, could run faster in track, shoot better, and take down another man quicker. We all looked up to him. And he chose me to be his friend.

"I was astonished and flattered but I was also really careful not to frustrate him or annoy him. His father was high up in the force here in Lawrence and I didn't want any bad gossip heading his way. After we finished at the academy, we both started as rookies here downtown. And that's when Michael first asked me if I wanted to take our relationship to the next step."

At that Dean ran a hand over his face, reliving these memories were always tough, no matter how many times he'd told the story.

"When we first started going out properly, he was the sweetest, nicest guy. Exactly like he'd been when we'd been just friends except even better. Then one day we were out on the beat just patrolling, making sure the streets were safe at night. A radio call came in; there was a robbery in progress one street away from us. Immediately we ran there and since he was feeling a little under the weather that night I got there first. The guy shot at me and I shot at him but he didn't dodge my bullet. Once back up arrived, Michael pulled me aside. He was so angry. Angrier than I'd ever seen him before. He was angry because I hadn't waited for him, or so he told me. Angry because he was worried I'd get hurt. I tried reasoning with him, and that's the first time he hit me.

"I was shocked but he immediately apologised, promised he'd never hurt me again. But he did. Often. And it got worse and worse. I was walking into the station saying the bruises on my face were from when a criminal had resisted arrest. Or limping into the station, saying I'd fallen down the stairs. Finally one year after he'd started abusing me, Sam had visited for the holidays and witnessed Michael giving me a dressing down over something completely insignificant. He saw Michael backhand me in the face a couple times, saw his big brother just standing there taking the abuse. He talked to me later and I realized I had to do something about it. I pressed charges, testified at his trial, and it's been eight years since then. He only went to jail for about two years but I didn't really keep tabs on him.

"All I'm saying is, I know it sounds like it's the most impossible thing in the world to do, but trust me, it's not," Dean said. He reached over the table and collected Castiel's hands in his own. "And you'll have me beside you. That's another thing I'll promise you."

"Thank you, Dean," Cas said, but his voice was shaky. Dean didn't know half of the abuse he'd gone through. Would he have to tell the court everything? He tried to push those thoughts out of his mind and concentrate on the home cooked meal in front of him, but suddenly his appetite was gone. He looked back up to the detective. "I'm scared."

"I know, and you have every right in the world to be," Dean said softly. "But you also have every right to justice for what he's done to you. Do you want to tell me about some of it? Get it off your chest?"

Castiel thought about it for a moment, and then looked up at Dean, kind green eyes meeting trepidation-filled blue ones. Then he nodded, yes.

{A.N. I know. I stopped it there. WTF right. So flood it with reviews and I shall continue! I always deliver what I promise after all...}