2008, some crappy motel between Maine and Atlantic City.
"Sammy, I cant shake the feeling we're being followed." Dean said, throwing his duffel on the bed. Sam, who carefully took his laptop out of the bag before flinging it towards the other bed, looked up. "Dean, we haven't seen another vehicle in our rearview mirror for ages." Dean shrugged, ill at ease. "I know, but still. I got this gut feeling, Sam." Sam turned to him. "Look, I bet it's just the fatigue talking. You drove for almost sixteen hours, straight. Let's just get some sleep, and we'll be extra careful tomorrow, ok?" Dean sighed. "I guess."
Dean looked over at his new commander in chief, who smiled and jutted out his chin in the universal sign for 'go'. His brother stood next to the commander and smiled. "Go on, Diniël. We won't tell anyone." Dean spread his sandy coloured wings and took off. Looking back, he saw Sam inch closer to the commander, their heads almost touching. 'Huh, go figure.' he thought and rushed onwards and upwards. He was going to meet with Cas on this special place that Sam somehow knew about. Very secluded and next to no-one knew about it, Sam had assured him. He landed at the appointed place, and there stood Cas, but he was... weird. He looked worn, troubled, and what the Hell was he wearing? A trenchcoat and suit? "Cas?" Dean asked, cautiously. "Hello, Dean, was it?" Dean shook his head. "What?" Cas put his hands on the pockets of his coat. A gesture so natural, it couldn't be the first time Cas was wearing it. "Cas, what is this?" Cas stepped up to him, weary, on guard, and Dean didn't like it. Cas stepped right into his personal space and those suspicious, cerulean eyes caught Dean's. "I would like to know that too. How is it that you and Shamsiël are human? I never caught any trace of your presence, or your Grace, anywhere. I have searched this planet over, and again. Nothing. Then, twenty-one years ago, I suddenly get a prayer from you. In Gaelic no less. What is going on, Diniël?" Cas' gravelly voice rose, pleading. Dean folded his wings around him, and answered truthfully. "I don't know, Cas. I don't know." Cas's expression softened and he ran a finger over one of Dean's primaries. Dean shivered. That was unexpectedly... pleasurable. "I'm sorry, Din. I didn't want to upset you. Maybe it's better if you.."
"Wake up! Dean! Wake up!" Dean shot up. "Wha? Whassamadder?" he garbled. Sam was holding his shoulders, obviously shaking him awake. "Dude, you were tossing and turning, mumbling and then you shivered... I was afraid you were getting sick." Dean ran his hand over his face. "Huh... 'M okay, Shamsiël. Don' worry your preddy li'l head." Sam did a double take. "What did you just call me?" Dean went to lie down again, but his brother wouldn't let him. "Dean! What did you just say to me?" Dean frowned, displeased and very grumpy. "Samuel, what else? You annoy me, I annoy you. Big brother prerogative. Now shut up and let me sleep, damn it." Sam let him go, but what Dean didn't see was the unbelieving face he had. Dean just snuggled in deeper, and he was out in seconds. Sam whispered: "That's not what you said... What the Hell is going on here?"