The fourth floor was dead and identical on each side. The fifth floor's doors were slightly different than the fourths. The sixth had a different carpet. The eighth had different walls. The tenth had larger apartments, with only two doors per hallway. On their trip down, they began to notice subtle differences in other things, too. Some had hung things on their doors. There was an occasional painting here and there on the eighth floor, hanging between doors.

The third floor was slightly different to the fourth, the walls a shade darker. The second had the same walls as the third. And the ground floor was just as they remembered it, the laundry room just as Dean had seen it earlier, the indoor pool smelling of chlorine and looking peaceful, the gym full of heavy equipment.

The hallway of doors on this side was almost … quieter, than upstairs. Darker. More mature seeming, than the bright areas upstairs. Maybe it was the lack of a glass wall.

And every door, every window, every wall and every floor kept the EMF as dead as the victims from the murders, the EVP as silent as their screams.

'There's nothing,' Dean muttered as he ran the EMF detector over the mail slots. The needle on it remained at a firm zero. 'It's like the place isn't even haunted.'

'But it is,' Castiel stated the obvious. 'The murders. And the black goo. And the knocking.'

'There's something here, alright,' Dean nodded, trying again, just to be sure. 'But … it might not be a ghost.'

'What else can kill its victims without leaving a mark and get into apartments that are locked?'

'I have no idea. And that's what bugs me – shit, someone's – I don't know, Cas. That's a lot of salt to buy at once.'

Dean made a smooth transition as the door opened and the sound of heels met their ears as they looked at each other, attempting to appear as though they were having a normal conversation by the mail slots, discreetly shifting their equipment so what everything was couldn't be seen. The only thing that was obvious, due to Dean's mentioning, was the salt.

'But salt goes with everything, Dean,' Castiel scoffed, embodying the roll of someone insisting they were right. 'It goes on … fries. And … uh …'

'It's good for seasoning soup,' a helpful voice chimed in.

'Yes, soup,' Castiel agreed. 'Thank … you.'

Castiel hesitated when he noticed Dean's face, and turned to see what Dean was looking at with such an excited expression on his face.

It was the drag queen.

'Always happy to jump to the defense of an impulse buy,' she grinned down at them from a tremendous height in heels which tonight definitely didn't seem to be broken. Her hair of choice was purple up front, pulled back into a ponytail that fell black, purple creeping in at the end. Her outfit was black too, a cat suit, with silver boots right up to her knees. 'I must say I've bought many a pair of shoes on impulse myself.'

'Shoes are shoes,' Dean replied steadily. Cas could sense he was trying hard to keep that steadiness in his voice. He looked as though he were about to drop to his knees and bow down before this stranger whom he'd never met but seemed to be admire. 'But an oversized bag of salt … is ridiculous.'

'That depends,' the tall, glorious creature before them said slyly, a drawn-on black eyebrow raised. 'Did you get a good deal?'

'Five dollars for a bag,' Castiel lied, hoping that sounded right, because he had no idea how much salt usually cost.

'A very good deal, then. Sorry, how rude of me –' The grin, purple lips surrounding the whitest teeth, was mesmerizing. 'I'm Tony Santolini. Though when I'm dressed like this I go buy Indie Ass. You two must be the new guys, right? Dean and … something unique.'

'Castiel,' Cas replied.

'Yes, yes!' Indie nodded, recalling the newsletter she had read. 'Welcome to the building. I hope you guys like it here.'

'Oh, we do,' Dean assured her. 'We definitely do. Great area … nice people … it's great.'

'Good, good,' Indie beamed. 'Hey – listen – if you're ever looking for something for something to do on a Saturday or Sunday night, you should drop by the bar my girlfriend with a penis and I perform at. It's not far.'

She had pulled a flyer out of her clutch for a show starring Indie Ass and India Soul. It looked interesting. Comedy, performance, cocktails and free beers for anyone either queen targeted during the comedy … Indie Ass and India Soul … fucking clever.

'Maybe we'll check it out next week,' Dean nodded, trying not to show his true enthusiasm. He could barely remember the last time he'd been to a drag show. Early twenties, some guy he'd been picked up by at a bar … they hadn't stayed long. 'We've got nothing better to do, right?'

'Besides using up the salt?' Castiel asked, accepting the flyer Dean had difficulty handing over while trying to make the EMF detector look like a pointless piece of nothing. 'Nothing. We'd love to go,' he answered politely.

'Great,' Indie grinned. 'Maybe I'll see you there. Now I should get going before Miss-Late-Gig catches up. It's been great meeting you.'

'You too,' Dean and Castiel replied within fractions of seconds of each other.

'Enjoy the rest of your night,' Indie smiled at them, the heels sounding off again as she walked away.

Dean and Cas pretended to go back to their salt conversation until Indie had entered the elevator and it had begun ascending.

'So are we really going?' Castiel asked as they two of them headed towards the stairs, detectors out and ready again.

'And miss an opportunity to get made fun of by our neighbors and get drinks out of it?' Dean asked. 'I wouldn't miss out on that. Unless you don't want to.'

'We need to be social,' Castiel shrugged. 'And it does sound fun. Unless it would be uncomfortable for us to go out to a bar together, especially one of this nature …'

'It's not weird unless we make it weird,' Dean replied, the mantra he'd been thinking for days. 'If we can survive pretending to be a couple in a motel room with one bed just to keep up appearances, we can get through this. We don't want to be those weird guys who don't do anything. People might think we have problems.'

'The people have problems,' Castiel muttered, 'ones that are apparently not caused by a ghost.'

'We definitely have to check out the walls like you suggested,' Dean said seriously.

'Tomorrow night,' Castiel decided, reaffirming their earlier decision.

Dean stopped on the second floor, sighing, his EMF as dead as it had been all night.

'Should we just give up and accept that there's nothing here? Whatever this thing is, it can't be picked up by these.'

'Yeah,' Castiel agreed, heading for the elevator next to the stairs they'd just reached the top of having planned on another search. 'This case seems to be becoming more complicated than we originally thought.'

'We'll figure it out,' Dean promised him. 'We'll look for clues. Check out the walls. Look for signs. Patterns. Anything weird.'

'I get the gist,' Castiel nodded, leaning against the back of the elevator as it rose.

'You okay?' Dean asked.

'Disappointed we didn't find more,' Cas shrugged. 'And my arm is starting to protest against not shifting the weight of this salt. Although perhaps this evens things out after a right arm workout earlier, this being in my left.'

'Yeah, maybe,' Dean grinned at him. 'But it's not like it's anything you can't handle. You lifted an anvil.'

'Yeah, but you know when I said I can still do that, and that when I said I couldn't I was only saying it to make you feel better about yourself?'

'Yeah?'

'I lied.'

'Son of a bitch.'

'I'm sorry.'

'No, no … I knew this honesty thing would come back to bite me in the ass.'

Castiel laughed as they stepped out of the elevator, veering left towards their hallway.

'Would you rather I lie or pretend to be a perfect version of myself again?'

'No, man,' Dean told him, on a serious note now after their joking. 'I'm glad we had that talk.'

Castiel looked at him and knew he was telling the truth.

'Me too.'

'I feel like … we've had a breakthrough,' Dean admitted as the two entered their apartment and locked the door behind them. 'I mean I get it now. How you've been feeling. More or less. I already thought things must be hard on you, but know I know they're harder than I thought.'

'Things have been difficult,' Castiel nodded, putting the salt and EVP detector on the worktop and turning the EVP detector off. 'Even the nights and the mornings are difficult. Sleeping. Waking up. A lingering thought in the back of my mind tried to make me think those were signs of weakness. That you would judge me for that, and it's completely ridiculous because all humans require sleep. I think a part of me just … was afraid that by becoming human I'd … let you down.'

Dean stared at him blankly, frankly not understanding how he could ever think that way. He felt guilt start to creep in, wondering what he'd done to make those thoughts happen.

'You could never let me down,' Dean told him, grabbing his arm securely with a now free hand, making sure he looked at him, saw how much he meant it in his eyes. 'You never have. You never will.'

'Not even when I was working with Crowley, against you?'

'You hurt me then, I'll admit,' Dean replied steadily, letting go of his arm now he was sure he wouldn't turn away. 'But you never let me down. In the end … you thought you were doing the right thing and ended up making a huge mistake. And you learned from your mistake.'

'That's true,' Castiel nodded, 'I did. And I'll never be stupid enough to do anything like that again. And I'm learning from this, too.'

'I can tell,' Dean acknowledged. 'And that's what so great about you. You try to learn from everything you can. And you're developing as a person because of it.'

'A year ago if you'd asked me to do this with you, things would have been so different,' Castiel sighed in a breath of laughter. 'If we're imagining, hypothetically, I wasn't being mind controlled at the time.'

'Of course.'

'I would have been robotic,' Castiel imagined, the two of them heading over to the couch since the conversation seemed to have no end they could foresee. 'And still. Staying in one spot, reading, watching television, but unresponsive and obsessive with both. I would talk less, I wouldn't need to sleep or eat or anything else humans need to do. I would have been completely indifferent to the furnishing of this place and likely to let you do all of that alone. All of this, everything that's happened, cutting ties with heaven and becoming human … it's one of the best things that's ever happened to me, in some aspects.'

'You think?'

'I know,' Castiel nodded 'I'm more in touch with humanity than I've ever been. I get to experience new things and see things from a whole other perspective. I enjoy reading more, I enjoy television more. I get to eat things that taste good and I know to avoid things I don't like. I watched porn. I had sex. They don't seem like they could be particularly educational experiences but they are. I've learned more about myself in these past few weeks than I ever learned as an angel, and I'm grateful for that.'

Dean smiled, listening to him speak, hearing that he sounded satisfied with it all, and Dean had never been happier for him. But he noticed the sigh, miniscule, that it was likely other people wouldn't have noticed, and frowned.

'But you miss being an angel,' Dean stated.

'Heaven is toxic,' Castiel frowned, shaking his head. 'What it's become is so … it's just something I don't want to be a part of. But at the same time, yes, I do miss being an angel. Because it's what I've always been and there's a small part of me, an undertone to every day, that says I'm not supposed to be human, no matter how much I enjoy the experiences and the perks of it, even though I wasn't a particularly great angel to start with,'

'Cas,' Dean winced, 'we've been over this. No matter what you are, whether you feel you belong to it or not, whether you think you're good at it or not, you're you. And you are one of the most amazing people I've ever met.'

'You think … I'm amazing?'

'You have to ask?'

'I don't understand.'

Dean was frustrated, but not in the angry kind of way. He was frustrated that Cas couldn't see himself the way Dean saw him. Even looking at him now, looking so surprised, so confused, so innocent to the fact, he looked so much better than anyone else he'd ever laid eyes on. Just seeing Cas's face made every good thing about him stand out.

'You're kind,' Dean began to list. 'And you're helpful. You're understanding. You're appreciative. You're complimentary. You're smart. You're funny. You care about things so much. You always try your best to be good at what you do, and to learn about what you don't. You value things more than most. You're reliable. You're a good person and a good friend, and yes, that makes you amazing.'

Castiel began to smile. Dean wondered if he'd believed any of it – and he'd only scratched the surface of what he could have said, listing off a list that seemed to have no end of factors and little things that made Cas who he was.

'I could say the same about you,' Cas said quietly, his head slightly tilted. He appeared to be looking at Dean from under his lashes with his head tilted slightly downwards in a way he looked at no one else. That look alone made Dean duck his head, unable to stop his responding smile.

Dean swallowed, swimming through a sea of possible responses and looking for one to land on.

'And that's another thing that makes you great,' Dean told the stretch of sofa between them, unable to look Cas in the eyes. 'You see the good in people even if they can't see it in themselves.'

'We have that in common.'

Dean looked up, expecting to meet Cas's eyes, but he saw him staring straight ahead at nothing. He looked down again, wondering if he should prolong this topic, but he felt as though anything else he could say would be too much so he cleared his throat and decided, 'I think we should call it a day.'

'I agree,' Castiel affirmed. 'You can go first. I'll pull out the bed and put the hunting stuff back in the cupboard.'

Dean nodded, rising, leaving Cas behind. Cas stayed seated until Dean had vanished and then began his solemn setup, quiet after their conversation, feeling like if he spoke he would ruin the atmosphere they had created, of quietness and of understanding, although he barely understood how Dean could say those things, or even see them in him at all. He sighed silently when he finished his two tasks and sat on the edge the sofa bed to await Dean's return, figuring that yesterday he wouldn't have sat on it uninvited but today, after all their little talks, he felt free enough to do it.

He stood up when Dean came back and headed in the direction Dean was coming from. They stopped in front of each other, Dean dragging the stuff for his bed with him and Dean gave him a half smile that looked tired.

'So, night,' Dean told him, sounding more like his usual non-spirit-uplifting self, casual manor returning.

'Yeah,' Castiel nodded, 'night.'

The stood, lingering almost awkwardly for a moment before they passed each other. Cas was almost at the door when Dean spoke, causing him to whip around and take a few steps back in his direction.

'If you wake up before me … you should get breakfast. If you want.'

'And if you wake up before me,' Castiel said evenly, trying to keep his voice steady, 'you should get dressed. Or take a shower. Or do whatever else you want to do. Just lock the bathroom door and … I'll know.'

Dean bobbed his head once with a half-smile, and Cas knew he understood. When he got to his bedroom and closed the door, a sense of relief washed over him that came with not just the moment, but the entire day, and he knew things would be easier from now on as he crawled into bed, leaving his clothes on the floor and the shirt he'd been going to sleep in under the pillow next to him, because it really was a warm blanket and the walls kept in heat well. He'd put it on in the morning to have breakfast, he thought, which he would have before he got ready for the day if he was hungry at the time, because what did it matter if he wasn't perfectly dressed and presented from the moment he woke up to the morning he went to bed again.

Dean was incredibly satisfied, as he settled into bed for the night. There was still a feeling of underlying and weighing guilt on him for how he'd been making Cas feel, intimidated, in need of validation, afraid to even let himself be human. And now that he thought of it, Cas always seemed timid when doing human things. Like when they first ate together the night of the pizza following tragic babysitting he seemed reserved, but had gradually learned to just shove that shit in his face without a care in the world. And when it came to sleeping that first night he'd been reluctant too, but eventually gave in. Even when it came to using the bathroom Castiel seemed reluctant to make it obvious where he was going, always waiting until Dean was occupied with something. So Dean never mentioned it, apart from that one time at the rest stop on the way here when Cas had actually asked.

It almost seemed like Cas was embarrassed about being human and now he understood why. Because he felt like by being human he was letting Dean down. Not himself, not Sam and Dean, not heaven, not the angels, but Dean.

But why?

When had Dean ever given him the impression that he was disappointed in anything he'd ever done? When it came to Cas, he always tried to be good to him. To listen. To put up with all the quirks, even the ones that made him uncomfortable. Funnily enough, they only made him uncomfortable when he was around other people. And then, he just got used to them. The pressing questions. The standing close. And now, he enjoyed them. If Cas didn't stand close, he knew something was wrong. If he didn't ask what was on his mind, something was wrong.

Sure, there was the past, the beginning, back when Castiel was this annoying angel who wouldn't yield any clues. And then there was when Cas was … not exactly himself. Pre-purgatory, post-hospital. He'd lost his temper a few times then, knocked a board game to the floor when all Cas wanted to do was play the damn game. And it wasn't because he was mad at Cas. It was because he knew that wasn't Cas, not the real him. It was a damaged Cas, a broken Cas, and it was his fault. He hadn't done enough to stop Cas from walking off into that lake, losing his memory and then being overcome with guilt so much so that he took on Sam's mental illness and his problems for his own … breaking him. Turning him into a shell of himself, a soft shell that shied away from the slightest conflicts.

Dean should have been more sympathetic back then. But back then he hadn't known what he knew now. He hadn't known why he was feeling like everything was his fault, like he was the one letting Cas down, making him suffer. But he knew now.

He knew now, and he kept it to himself, locked so far in the back of his mind that he barely even knew what he knew, and that was all that mattered.

He need to make sure that Cas knew he was needed. That he was appreciated. That he was wanted, and cared about, and he wouldn't let any of his personal problems get in the way of that again. He couldn't. Though he was terrified he would. That's what always happened. He and Sam got wrapped up in some mission and what Cas was doing in his own life wasn't even on their radar, they used him and used him over and over, making it look like neither one of them cared even an ounce.

Cas was once in the middle of a civil war, and still all he and Sam had done was take, take, take. Their problems came first. He always came when they called. He'd said it himself.

Then Cas was broken, and all they did was try to use him to their advantage even then.

He knew that usage was likely to happen again, and it terrified him.

Cas would become a tool in their problems. And he hated that.

But he would try. The only way he'd let Cas be used like that again was … if he was being controlled by something else and couldn't help it. But if he was himself and in his right mind … he was damned if Cas was going to be used again.

He wanted Cas. He needed Cas. He appreciated Cas. And Cas had to know. He hoped that now he did.

Dean rolled onto his front and punched his pillow into a more comfortable shape. He found it easy to get to sleep tonight, with a clear conscience after going over and over in his head how the past was the past, and Cas would never be treated the way he used to be again. It was almost as though he'd only just closed his eyes when he awoke to an empty room with light peeking through as it had on previous mornings.

He took several minutes to allow himself to wake up and stretch, and then he slipped out of bed. When he slept well, he was generally good at waking up whenever without excess lingering. He had grown used to quick awakenings in his life, so much so that they became natural even when unnecessary. He headed over to the kitchen to make some coffee and grab a bowl of the kind of cereal Sam usually judged him for having.

He figured that he might take Cas up on the whole shower thing even if Cas wasn't awake yet. Usually, he took a shower every morning that he could, but he'd cut that down to every other morning or so for the past few days because of being busy, or because he didn't want to take up too much time. But it was Monday, the start of a new week, so he supposed he could get back to his usual routine of getting up, having breakfast and then taking a shower. It's not like taking up time was a bad thing now since there was nothing else to do, and since he didn't have to wait around for Cas to be out of the way first thanks to what Cas had said last night, things wouldn't be staggered or out of balance, or it wouldn't become too late.

If he wanted to get comfortable with Cas, become less intimidated by him and less intimidating to him, he had to start acting like he would if he lived here alone, or with Sam. So his bed would remain out until he got around to fixing it up, after he was dressed. And the dishes he used would stay in the sink until he washed them later.

He went towards Cas's bedroom door lightly, staying still by the door and listening for sounds of life from within. He heard nothing, so he let himself in as quietly was possible and padded on the balls of his feet in his slippers to the closet, to get his clothes. He was thankful that it didn't make noise when he slid it open and pulled out some clothes, then turned around to head towards the bathroom.

Cas looked as peaceful as ever while asleep. Dean couldn't help but notice his positioning, on his side facing left, one arm above the covers with his hand on his pillow and the other hand under his pillow. Dean swallowed carefully when he noticed Cas wasn't wearing a shirt and tried not to pay attention to the sharp muscles he could see in his back by the way he was slightly veering towards lying on his front and not just his side.

Fuck.

Dean refused to let himself look at the shoulders he had never seen before now. He refused to know what exactly he'd had his hand on so many times. And he also refused to look at the upper arms he'd seen just a few times, the tops of them usually covered by sleeves.

He felt better once the bathroom door was locked between them. He was going to have to get used to this.

They were friends. It was fine for friends to see each other in certain states of undress. It's not like he'd seen him standing in nothing but his underwear. They had the same parts. Arms. Backs. Chests. Whatever. If Cas saw Dean as he was now, Dean thought as he gazed at himself in the mirror having removed his shirt, he wouldn't want Cas to think it was weird.

Although Dean did have a sneaking feeling that he'd be turning away from Cas to hide his blush if that ever did happen.

The fact that Cas made him blush so much was annoying. Usually, he could keep a straight face at anything. But Cas …

Cas had always been the exception to everything.

He was starting to have that weird feeling again, the one he got that night in that motel, about the fact that here he was, naked, showering, with only a wall and a door between him and Cas. He wondered if Cas had had that same weird feeling, knowing Dean was just an open door away, unclothed. He wondered suddenly what would happen if he forgot to lock the door and wasn't making any noise, and Cas walked in before Dean had the chance to get a towel around himself …

Oh no, not again, Dean warned himself. Not after last night. You can't do this to him.

Although, technically, he wasn't doing anything to him.

Still. No.

Maybe he'd be flattered if he knew. Maybe he'd even be into it. Cas was gay after all, so he knew he could be into it, if he were interested in Dean at all, if he cared to look …

Please stop immediately.

The fact that he was now pleading with himself was worrying. Part of him wanted to argue back that it was no secret that Cas had called him attractive, but the other part wanted him to shut the fuck up and continue showering with thoughts that didn't violate the image of his friend.

So, he did what he usually did in the shower. He sang. But in his head, so he wouldn't wake Cas.

When Dean left the bathroom, fully dressed and ready for whatever they would be doing that day, he discovered Cas's bed was empty and made. He left the bedroom and found Cas in the kitchen, having put a shirt on but not having bothered with his robe. He was almost done with a bowl of cereal and was drinking coffee from the pot that Dean had made. Dean tried not to stare at his arms as he approached, considering sitting across from him but instead veering towards his bed to put it away.

'Morning,' Dean called sounding as casual as ever and trying to prevent the return of his shower thoughts. Then, trying to keep things flowing he asked, 'I didn't wake you did I?'

'No' Cas assured, with a shake of his head. 'I didn't know you were in there until I came out here.'

'Good,' Dean nodded, happy that he didn't seem to have an issue of accidentally waking Cas.

Dean dealt with his bed and the two of them existed in silence until Dean returned to the room having put his bed stuff away. He poured himself some coffee and used the last of hat was in the pot to top up Cas's cup and then slid into the seat across from Cas since there wasn't really anything else to do and observed him a moment. He'd just finished his cereal and was now taking a sip from his almost re-filled cup.

'So,' Dean started, causing Cas to look at him. 'Any bright ideas on what we should do today?'

'Besides our trip into the walls tonight?' Castiel asked, raising his eyebrows. 'Nothing.'

'I've got about as much as you have,' Dean sighed, a laugh of irony escaping him. The laugh was slightly nervous, too, because it was just as he'd feared in the beginning. There was nothing to do, nothing major going on in terms of the case or anything relating to it that they could do during the day without it being risky, and he was afraid to fall into a pit where they moped around all day, watching TV, reading and turning into two of those weird people who never went outside.

Cas seemed to sense the tension Dean felt, because he piped up, 'although my immediate plans include finishing this coffee and dealing with the dishes.'

'How about I wash and you dry this time?'

'That seems fair.'

'Well then,' Dean grinned, picking up his mug and holding it up, 'here's to at least two plans today.'

'Yes,' Castiel agreed, clinking his mug against Dean's, 'here's to that. And the rest … we can figure it out as we go along.'

'We always do.'

'And I suppose I ought to get dressed, too,' Castiel added thoughtfully, only just remembering the fact that he wasn't.

'Plan number three,' Dean nodded, pointing at Cas in approval and to note his good thinking. 'So … since it's ten now … how many hours have we got to kill later?'

'Well, I'm going to shower,' Castiel told him, 'so my guess is I'll be a little over a half hour, maybe less if I don't get distracted. So that's … eleven and a half to twelve hours, depending on how active the building is tonight, until our definite case-central plan.'

'Good, yes,' Dean nodded enthusiastically. They had a sort of professional and matter-of-fact type thing going, like two workers planning the work schedule without help from the boss, each of them sounding satisfied at the end of each sentence. So Dean continued in that sense adding an 'excellent. Time math. And so on.'

Perhaps Dean's response was a little too enthusiastic with his fervent nodding because Cas laughed so hard his shoulders shook and he was forced to look away. His laughter triggered Dean's, and suddenly the prospect of an unplanned day didn't seem so daunting anymore.

'So did you … sleep well?' Dean asked, trying to come up with some topic to move the conversation forward, despite already knowing – or assuming – the answer was that he did. Now that they were talking the fact that Dean had seen Cas sleeping, and seen his upper back, and his shoulders and his upper arms and all of that … seemed easier to think about casually, as long as he didn't picture it in his head with a memory as clear as if he were seeing it again.

'Sufficiently decently,' Castiel shrugged. 'Have you noticed how hot it gets in this building at night?'

'It's pretty warm,' Dean agreed, 'but I wouldn't say it's hot hot. Though you're in a smaller room, so that could be it.'

'Perhaps,' Castiel nodded, figuring it made sense. Smaller space, less space for the heat to spread out and not seem like such a blanket. 'I don't object to it. It's just difficult to get used to. I've been used to sleeping where it's relatively cold.'

Like most references Cas made to his past situation, Dean felt a sting. Cas mustn't have known about each little sting, with how casually he spoke about it all. Dean sighed, not wanting to ruin the light and easy thing they had going, so instead he decided to sympathize more subtly.

'I know what you mean,' he agreed. 'Some of the places I've slept have been pretty rough. Cold. Or worse. There was this one place when I was a kid and the room had a broken window and it was raining, and the next morning the rain was frozen over on the inside window sill.'

'That's awful,' Castiel replied with a deep frown. 'You know, I approve of motels because of their low price range, but some I've heard of, or in the case of the night before we came here, been to …'

'Some are pretty decent, though,' Dean defended. 'Some are even nice. The one you'll be in should be pretty nice if I have anything to do with it.'

'I appreciate that,' Cas nodded, a flash of a half-smile coming and going in the same second with the same minimal nod. 'Although I'm sure you know that. I've expressed my appreciation for most of the things you've done even if you haven't done them yet.'

'And I've told you every time,' Dean stressed, 'that there's no need.'

'But you don't have to have done or be doing anything,' Castiel pointed out.

'But I want to,' Dean countered, 'so I have to.'

'Wanting to do something doesn't technically mean you have to,' Castiel corrected, arching an eyebrow of intelligence at him, that one eyebrow that he could raise slightly higher than the other that always made him look like he was being extremely dominant and therefore making Dean want to turn into a puddle at his feet because of how intimidated and/or other things he was by it.

'Yes it does,' Dean reprimanded, getting defensive. 'Because if you want to do something and you don't do it, the feeling of wanting to do it will bug you until you do it. Take it someone who's experienced that a lot. Pretty recently, actually.'

'Recently?' Castiel inquired, the eyebrow raising higher still making Dean need to breathe deeply to calm himself and remind himself that he wasn't supposed to be intimidated anymore. 'How recently?'

'Saturday night,' Dean said proudly, happy he had something to justify his point with.

'What is it that you wanted to do?'

Oh, shit. Maybe he hadn't thought that part through.

'Just a thing,' Dean lied feebly. 'Nothing important or that you need to worry about. You were asleep, so … it matters even less.'

'You've been doing things while I'm asleep?'

Well now he'd dug himself into a hole. And he wanted to promptly smash his head through the table, the floor and then all of the floors below that until he could bury it in the dirt.

'Not … exactly,' Dean cringed. 'Just … one thing. Personal thing. One time. It didn't involve you at all.'

Well, it was true up until the second last statement, which was only half-true but completely true about Saturday. And the last statement was completely fucking ridiculous.

'That sounds …' Castiel tried to find a word of sarcasm for Dean's completely non-descriptive nature, 'fascinating. It sounds like you had a completely wild time.'

'Oh, it was a party,' Dean agreed. 'Loud music. A boat load of alcohol. People having sex on that table, on this table, on the couch, on the floor, on the balcony, in the small bathroom … I'm sorry you missed it.'

'I'm surprised I slept through that. Your personal party. I'm not sure how a party can be personal, but if you say so …'

He was teasing. Dean gave him his ultimate grumpy-face.

'Shut up,' he commanded.

'I plan on it,' Castiel declared, draining the last of his coffee and standing up to head for the sink. 'I'm only relenting because we have dishes to do.'

Dean, who had already finished his coffee, brought his mug over and joined him.

'You're kind of an asshole, you know that?' he asked conversationally.

'Does that bother you?' Castiel challenged.

'Not at all,' Dean replied deviously. 'In fact, I kinda like it.'

'Do you?'

'You remind me of the old you,' he shrugged. 'When you were a giant dick, but you've downgraded to asshole because you're funnier now. And more brash. And you can be a sarcastic fucker at times, can't you?'

'We decided to be completely open with each other,' Cas shrugged back, accepting the washed spoons for drying. 'I'm just trying to stay on your level. Make our talks more enjoyable than the more serious ones we've had in the past. And it's not like I have anyone else to talk to who would put up with this kind of attitude. Where it almost seems like … I could be kind of a jerk. But one that's all in good taste and does, initially, mean well.'

'So you're back to being a badass,' Dean grinned at him, handing him a mug.

'You could say that, at least for now,' Castiel nodded. 'I'm more … comfortable around you now, than I would be around others. I don't know if this will last when all of this is over … because I don't know what's coming next.'

'There's never a way of knowing,' Dean sighed, handing the other mug to him and shaking his head sadly as he moved onto the cereal bowls. 'You just … hope for the best. Or the best of a bad situation in our case.'

'But what if we don't get the best outcome?' Castiel pondered. 'What would be the worst, do you think?'

'I don't know,' Dean sighed, a smooth lie forthcoming, 'maybe we can't get the God-Squad back upstairs. Maybe we don't get your powers back. Maybe both.'

'Not getting the angels back into heaven is just … not an option,' Castiel said as he shook his head in denial. 'Eventually they're going to want to recruit. Break off into teams with leaders … all they know how to do is follow, with very few who I'm sure think of themselves as leaders. Two. Maybe three. And think of how many humans could die in the process, as vessels, as bystanders … it's not something that's pleasant to think about. And as for me getting my grace back … I'd like it back, but in no way does it equal not being able to reopen the gates of heaven.'

Dean nodded, swallowing nervously. Well that shit didn't sound good. And Cas knew heaven and its occupants better than most. What the tablet said … Crowley had to be wrong. Or lying. Or maybe he was telling the truth, but the whole story, the real truth, just wasn't on the tablet for anyone to see, but only in the heads of those who wrote it. God, the creator, and Metatron, the scribe.

Fucking Metatron. He had the answers and he had Cas's grace. Rogue angels they could try to deal with, but Metatron was the real threat. Oh, and Abaddon, part of a completely different set of problems in a whole other story. Oh, and Crowley, whatever the fuck they were planning to do with him if he didn't make like a canary and sing a song to help them with everything he had the ability to help them with.

As soon as they left this cozy little situation they had here in West Hollywood, they were meat headed for the grinder there were ten slices of meat and one hundred grinders. And if things started to go wrong while they were still here, on this case …

But it wouldn't, would it? The angels needed time to rally. To strike. Many of them likely hadn't even found vessels yet. There were thousands of vessels, but a worthy and willing soul on Earth would be difficult to find.

'Listen, Cas,' Dean said determinedly, although he didn't believe his ow words very much. 'We'll find a solution to both of those problems. No matter how long it takes.'

'But is the lesser of the two really to be considered a "problem?" Being human can be difficult at times, but it's not a dire situation. There's no desperate need for my powers to be returned to me. It's just something … yes, if possible, I wouldn't object to unless someone gave me a reason to want to stay human.'

'And is there anyone who could give you a reason?' Dean asked him, leaning against the counter with his arms folded, the dishes having been finished for a while now.

Castiel turned away, frowning at the ground. Dean watched him for a moment, watching him seem to swallow uncomfortably, something Dean knew all too well, swallowing back words he didn't want to say or … words he didn't even know. Castiel sighed before looking back up at Dean, strangely dull.

'No,' he replied carefully. 'No one who would give me a reason.'

Castiel turned to walk away, and Dean suddenly wondered if he'd said something wrong.

'Cas –'

'I'm going to take a shower now,' Castiel spoke over him. 'I'll see you … when I finish.'

'Yeah, okay,' Dean replied suspiciously, watching Cas's retreating back. 'See you … after.'

Dean continued frowning at his back until he was out of sight and wandered over to where his computer was with a heavy feeling in his stomach, thinking he had said something wrong and wondering what it was.

Castiel breathed a sigh of relief when the bedroom door was shut behind him, although he didn't know what he was relieved about. Nor could he figure out what that unsettled and slightly upsetting feeling was, come to think of it, but at Dean's question something had just …

In his throat, there'd been a sort of lump that felt a little like sadness and a little like nerves. And in his head, a pressure, and in his chest a pressure too. But it wasn't real pressure, it was brought on and likely phantom. Brought on by … his thoughts? Or his feelings? Both of which were unknown to him. Or at least … as far as he knew, they were unknown. And he didn't know what was causing the current swelling feeling in his chest either.

He felt like he'd been about to say something but he didn't know what that was. He didn't know why he'd put so much emphasis on the word "give." And he didn't know why he dwelling on this because it was distracting him from picking out clothes.

He didn't want to delay this morning in anything by getting wrapped up in his head, so he moved at a good pace while thinking but not allowing the thoughts to overtake him. He didn't want Dean to think he was avoiding him after that odd moment he couldn't explain. Again, he didn't know why he couldn't explain it. Or maybe he could but he was just … unable to admit the explanation.

He remembered to wait a minute before stepping under the water which started off cold and his thoughts were relatively lighthearted as he showered. Like, why have both a bath and a shower? Why have this bathroom inside the bedroom, because what if there were guests who wanted to shower? Or what if there were guests who even wanted to shave? The lighting in the other bathroom was duller than in this one and likely too dull for that, though the lighting in here was duller than in the rooms with glass leading to the outside too. Windowless rooms really made everything seem cramped.

When he got to shaving, his mind wandered towards Dean. He wondered if Dean had paid him any attention as he took clothes from the closet and then went into the bathroom, or whether he'd even noted Cas was there at all. Cas wondered if he looked bad when he slept. He didn't want Dean to see him when he didn't look good. Not that he wanted to look good for Dean either, but he did really, but not for Dean, just … in general. He didn't want to give people the wrong impression in the building or outside or even give Dean the wrong impression even though he knew Dean knew that even if he looked bad that wasn't a representation of him as a whole, then he began to wonder what exactly Dean thought of him as a whole, besides what he'd listed off last night.

He tried to calm his rapid thoughts with question after question.

Last night Dean had said he was intimidating … today, he'd called him an asshole. And a giant dick, though that was in reference to his past. And he'd called him sarcastic. And badass. All of which seemed like praise which Cas took in his stride.

And this morning he was able to admit to himself that yes, he enjoyed making Dean see him in a pleasant light, but no, he did not need that as validation. He welcomed it, but he didn't need it. A weight had been lifted, and Cas was starting to feel a little better about … well, most things actually.

When Castiel returned to where Dean was, Dean was sitting at the table with his laptop, a pen and paper. As was usual he went to sit across from him, but Dean didn't look up for another minute. He appeared to be reading something on his screen and then writing it down on the paper.

'Here,' Dean said determinedly, flipping back a page and sliding the paper, which Castiel realized was in a small notebook, over to Cas when he was done with it.

'What's this?' Castiel asked, looking at the list of things he'd never heard of while Dean shut off his laptop.

'It's a list of things we can do today,' Dean explained. 'I figured we're not going to be here for long and it's a pretty decent area so … why not do the whole tourist thing? We can treat it like a vacation.'

'I've never been on vacation,' Castiel thought out loud.

'I haven't since … this one time when I was a kid. We rode some donkeys. Saw some sights. I barely remember that.'

'In that case you deserve a vacation,' Castiel told him.

'Yeah, so do you,' Dean agreed. 'So you get to pick one thing we can do today. I already picked something we can do later, now it's your turn.'

Castiel's eyes raked down the list of over twenty things and the word "beach" caught his eye. He'd been to many beaches, observed the oceans, the tides coming in and out, the sand blowing in the breeze, the water changing color with the sky. A beach seemed like a good thing to start off with.

'This one,' Castiel chose, pushing the notepad back towards Dean with his finger on "Venice Beach Boardwalk."

'Good choice,' Dean grinned at him. 'That ties in with my thing I picked to do in the evening. Santa Monica Pier it's like … ten minutes away from the boardwalk.'

'I didn't think you were the type of person that would enjoy beaches or piers,' Castiel frowned, shooting Dean a curious look.

'I've never been to any,' Dean shrugged. 'But this … it ties in with what we're pretending to be here, doesn't it? We'll need something to talk about with people we run into. It makes sense that people moving to a new area would check out that area.'

'Then … let's do it,' Castiel shrugged, allowing himself a half-smile in the face of it all. 'Although it's winter. Does that change anything?'

'Nah,' Dean shrugged. 'I already checked. Turn the page.'

Castiel pulled the notepad back towards himself and turned the page, which was covered in specific things to do in the locations listed, along with whether or not the places would be crowded or empty. Castiel read carefully through everything, for both of the locations they'd decided on and for everything else on the list.

'None of this seems very … you,' Castiel commented, once he'd read through everything.

'Why do you say that?'

'They seem fun,' Castiel shrugged. 'And many seem to be aimed towards younger people.'

'Are you calling me old?' Dean asked, folding his arms defensively making Cas roll his eyes and Dean grin it him, continuing, 'and I can be fun. You just haven't seen that side of me much.'

'Or at all.'

'Uh, excuse me, ping pong?' Dean pointed out, gesturing the table.

'Okay, once.'

'Whatever,' Dean brushed off. 'Come on. I can be fun. We take a walk, hit up some performances or artists or stalls or whatever, leave a tip and move on. We can make a day of it, grab lunch, then head over to the pier later in the afternoon. The pier has an aquarium. And an arcade. I haven't been to an arcade since … I can't even remember the last time.'

'It does sound appealing,' Castiel replied, starting to smile slightly more than a half-smile as he surveyed Dean's convincing and upbeat expression. 'Fine. How far away is all of this?'

'The boardwalk is about a half hour from here,' Dean told him, 'then the pier is a ten minute drive from there. And hey – the stuff we don't hit up today, we can do tomorrow. Or the next day. For however long we're here.'

'That sounds like a relatively good plan.'

'We can even see if there's anything going on nearby on Thursday for Thanksgiving,' Dean prodded although he'd already convinced Cas.

'My first human holiday,' Castiel realized. 'Great.'

'Then Saturday or Sunday we need to hit up that drag show at the bar. I still have the flyer.'

'So our week seems to be booked solid.'

'Yeah, it does, doesn't it?' Dean grinned, intense relief coursing through him at their productivity, and that the uncomfortable moment from earlier when they'd finished the dishes hadn't seemed to left a lasting impact or crept up on them again. 'So, should we go now?'

'Yes,' Castiel decided, getting to his feet. 'I'll get my jacket.'

'Get mine too,' Dean instructed. 'I'll grab some extra cash and go over the directions to these places again.'

Castiel nodded and disappeared into the bedroom. Dean stood up too, grabbed his list and put it into his pocket and headed over to the cash box to stock up. Everything was starting to work out now, and he couldn't have been more grateful if he tried. Whether they were just here for the week or for the whole month, things … they seemed to be going okay.