Title: The Trenchcoat Avenger of Truman High

Author: rons_pigwidgeon

Pairing: Dean Winchester/Castiel

Rating: NC17

Warnings: Masturbation, Underage Drinking, Phone Sex, Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Sex Toys, Blow Jobs in a Car, Car Sex, Sex in the Impala, Bathroom Sex, Hand Jobs, light dom/sub play, Homophobic Language, Homophobia, Homophobic language (way to be a dick, John)

Chapter Summary: Cas and Dean both deal with the break-up in their own ways.

Author's Note:


When Avery finds him, Castiel is curled up in a ball on the couch, staring at the blank screen of the television as though it just swallowed his baby sister. There are tear tracks staining his cheeks and his eyes are bloodshot and rimmed in red. His mobile phone is laying open and blank on the floor near his feet. Avery rushes to his side and falls to her knees on the carpet next to his head.

"Sweetheart, what happened?" she asks, brushing the hair out of his face.

"I think Dean just broke up with me," he tells her, more tears falling from his eyes.

She curls around him, petting his hair. "Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry." She presses a kiss to his forehead, an attempt to be soothing, he knows, but the touch burns instead. She sits back up to look him in the eyes. "But what do you mean, you 'think' he broke up with you?"

"He was angry about Sam getting into Standford." He sits up sniffling, grabbing for a tissue to wipe at his face. He knows he probably looks like a complete mess. "I thought he would be excited. Proud. It's not every day someone like Sam gets a full ride to a top-ten school." Cas feels the tears coming back again, swelling in his chest and threatening to drown him. "He yelled at me, told me we're done and that I should lose his number. And also that I should stay away from Sam." His voice is thick with tears he fails to hold back. His whole body hurts like he's missing a limb.

Avery sits back on her heals, a frown on her face. "Wait, he's mad you helped his little brother get a full ride to Stanford? What the hell?"

"I don't know, Avery. He's always been very protective of Sam, but I thought he would be happy to see Sam get into a good school. He'll be able to secure an excellent job once he's out, and he won't have to travel around like a nomad with their alcoholic father anymore. I thought Dean would like that. I thought…" He smiles in mockery of himself, wiping at the fresh tears. He had been so stupid. "I thought maybe if Sam had a place to settle, that Dean might want to settle, too."

"I've never gotten the impression that Dean's the settling type."

"Yeah, well. Desperate here."

"I'm sorry, sweetie. I know this isn't what you want to hear, but maybe this is a good thing. Dean's a good guy and all, but maybe now you can find someone a little more stable."

Cas sighs and picks at the blanket. "I don't want anyone else."

"I know." She kisses his temple and pets his hair again, pressing her forehead to his. There isn't much else to say after that, but Avery sits with him anyway.


"How's my favorite brother?" Christine asks, voice perky in a way that Castiel isn't used to hearing from her lately.

"I've been better." He wants to ask how she is, deflect the conversation from him, but Christine doesn't let him.

"What happened? You sound like someone died."

He sighs, rubs his face, tries to keep himself from crying as he says it. "Dean broke up with me."

"What? I thought you guys were so happy. You were all lovey-dovey when I heard you talking to him at Thanksgiving."

"It's… complicated."

"I can handle complicated. Hit me."

"He um… I told you he has a younger brother?"

"Sam, right? Super smart, bigfoot-tall?"

"Yes. A little before Dean had his accident last year, Sam asked me for help trying to get into college. I gave him what advice I could, and earlier this month he got an early acceptance letter from Standford."

"Woah, look at him. That's expensive, though. I thought his dad was an out-of-work drunk?"

"He is, but that doesn't matter. Sam got a full scholarship."

Christine whistles. "Good for him."

"I thought so, too, but neither Dean nor his father want Sam to go. I got a phone call two nights ago asking if I'd helped Sam. When I told Dean that I had, he told me that we were done and I should lose his number."

Christine is quiet for a long moment, time enough for Castiel to rein in the suffocating feeling swelling in his chest. "Fuck him, then. I don't think your boyfriend's supposed to be pissed at you for making his life better."

Castiel says nothing, because really, there's nothing he can say. He can't argue with her. She's right. But it doesn't stop the pain in his chest or the horrible sense of dread that rushes through him every time he thinks of Dean.

"Cas, I get it. You were with him a long time, but try to look on the bright side. Now you'll be able to find someone better."

"There's no one better for me than Dean," he says without hesitation.

"Closer then, someone who can be there for you whenever you need him. Someone you can see more than twice a year. Maybe someone you could think about building a life with."

"I want to do that with Dean."

"Was that ever really an option, though? Did he ever give you any indication that he was the settling-down type?"

"I realize that I am being unreasonable. I can't help myself, Christine. I love him."

"And I loved Bookie Bear, but eventually, I had to let him go and move on." Castiel has a momentary flash of Christine throwing out her pink, thread-bare rabbit with one dangling eye the day she moved away to college. She'd sobbed for half an hour, but then she'd gotten over it.

"That isn't the same. Dean was my partner. Bookie Bear was a stuffed rabbit."

"I was trying to lighten the mood. I know this is hard, but you'll get passed it. And you'll find some cute guy on campus who will take you on real dates and buy you flowers and make you feel special. Maybe one day you'll even be able to bring him home to meet Mom and Dad. Hell, maybe one day you'll even be able to marry him."

Castiel scoffed, shaking his head though his sister could not see him. "I don't know that Mom and Dad would appreciate finding out their son is gay, let alone meeting my boyfriend."

"I think they'd accept a lot more than you think they would. They've always said they love us no matter what. I believe that."

Castiel picks at the edge of his notebook, unable to find the words to express his thoughts. Christine waits him out. "I thought about coming out at Christmas."

"You should have."

"Dean thought I should wait until I've finished school, in case they withdraw their support."

"We've already established that Dean's an idiot. If you're ready to tell them, I think you should."

"Maybe." He knows his voice is weak, laden with the empty pit of his heart. He closes his eyes, takes a breath.

"It'll be okay, Castiel."

He hopes she's right, even as his heart whisper that nothing will ever be right again.


Message Status: Draft

From: cnovak

To: impala67

Friday, January 3,2001

Subject: I Miss You

Message:

Hello Dean,

I know that you do not read your email, but this is the only form of communication I can be sure you have not blocked me on yet. I wanted you to know that I miss you, almost more than my heart can take. I feel an ache in my chest every time I hear your name. I never thought it was possible to love someone as much as I love you. I should have told you. Maybe then you wouldn't have…

I've decided to come out to my parents. My sister thinks that they will accept me regardless, and I think it is time. My mother doesn't understand why I am upset when I talk to her, and I cannot explain. I will write again to let you know how it goes.

I love you and hope you are staying safe.

Yours, always,

Castiel


Castiel stares off into space, thoughts of Dean flooding every crevice of his mind. It's been a month and no contact. He's tried calling, left message after message, but still nothing.

"Hey, Castiel, right?" a voice asks from right in front of him. Castiel blinks out of his thoughts and squints up at the guy standing in front of him. He's in Castiel's Reference Services class, but they've never spoken.

Castiel musters a smile, but he knows it's weak. "Good afternoon. How are your classes going?" he asks, holding his hand out for the book the guy's holding.

"Pretty good so far, nothing too challenging," he answers, shrugging with a smile as he hands Castiel his card.

Castiel nods and scans the card, noting that his name is Ryan Martinez, and checks the book out for him. "You're Ryan, am I correct?"

"Yeah, nice to finally… meet you, I guess." There's a faint pink to his cheeks, but Castiel doesn't know if that's their natural hew or due to embarrassment.

"It's nice to meet you as well. Here's your book back. It's due in at the end of the semester. If it is recalled before that time, you have one week within which to return it."

"Thanks." Ryan takes the books back, hesitating over it a moment. "Would you like to get coffee sometime?"

Castiel freezes, staring at him. Is he being asked out? "Are you asking me out?"

Ryan blushes, smiling shyly at his shoes. "Yeah, dumb, I know. You're way out of me league, but I had to try. Sorry."

Castiel frowns, tilts his head in confusion. Ryan is very attractive. There is no reason to think Castiel is out of his league. Castiel knows himself, knows how strange and socially awkward he is. He is also still heartbroken, but perhaps… "No, you're mistaken. I believe I would enjoy having coffee with you."

"Awesome, that's… great. Can I pick you up after work? When do you get off?"

"I will be finished at six."

"Is that too late for coffee? Maybe dinner instead?" He looks anxious. Castiel thinks he might see sweat on his brow. It makes Castiel himself less anxious. He offers a smile.

"I do not believe it is ever too late for coffee. We could go to Hollowed Grounds."

"Okay, yeah, that sounds good."

"I will see you at six, then," Castiel says, smiling at the student waiting impatiently behind him. Ryan glances behind him and startles at the girl standing there. "Oh, sorry. Okay, I'll meet you on the front steps at six." He steps out of the girl's way with a little wave and leaves. Castiel greets the student and takes her returned books, a tiny smile of satisfaction on his face. Avery will be pleased. He ignores the tiny voice in his head reminding him that the last time someone was waiting for him on the steps of the library, it was Dean with a bouquet of flowers.


Message Status: Draft

From: cnovak

To: impala67

Wednesday, March 2, 2001

Subject: Someone New

Message:

Hello Dean,

I met someone new today. His name is Ryan. We have several library classes together, but today was the first time we spoke. He asked me out for coffee, and I went. I enjoyed myself. Ryan is sweet and kind and a perfect gentleman. The opposite of you, I suppose. I haven't decided if I want to be with him yet or not, but there is possibility, and I never thought there would be again.

I love you and miss you.

Yours, always,

Castiel


Hearts. There were hearts everywhere. Pre-printed paper ones taped to the bar mirrors, tissue paper ones fluttering down from the ceiling. There were even little foam ones stuck onto every glass served. The effect was ridiculous, but Dean is good at ignoring the things he wants to. He eyes the prospects, zeros in on a pretty woman wearing too much make-up and a top so low-cut he can almost see her nipples. Perfect. He gets up, takes his drink with him.

"No one as pretty as you should ever drink alone," he says in a low voice, leaning into the woman's shoulder to warm her ear with his breath. She turns, takes a look at him, and smiles wide.

"Are you planning to fix that for me?"

"I am."

The next morning, He doesn't remember her name or even what color her hair was, but that doesn't matter. He pops another happy pills and heads back to the motel before she wakes up.

Sam scowls at him when he walks in, but Dean ignores him, heading for the shower without a word. "Dean, come on. You haven't slept at home once since I told you about college. You look like a mess. What's going on with you?" Sam blocks his path, not letting him get into the bathroom.

Dean just glares. "What do you care, Sammy? You're leaving anyway. I'm not your problem anymore."

"Oh, fuck off. You're my brother and you look like shit. What's going on?"

"Nothing, Sammy, just doing my thing."

"No, this isn't normal. Your pupils are dilated. You smell like you fell in a vat of cheap beer. What would Cas say?"

Dean clenches his fist, holding himself back from throwing a punch by the skin of his teeth. "Cas can fuck off, and so can you. Get out of my way before I knock you over."

Sam doesn't budge. "Did you break up with Cas?"

What little patience he was clinging to frays and snaps at the question. He clocks Sam, knocking him just far enough out of the way to get passed him and the door closed before his nosy ass can butt in again.


Sam is beyond worried about Dean, and their dad isn't helping, just finding more hunts and ignoring the insane hours Dean's keeping. Sam thought he might say something about the pot, let alone whatever else Dean's been taking, but John stays quiet as long as it doesn't mess up the job. If this is going to get fixed, it's going to have to be done by Sam. He waits until Dean and John are both gone to call the only person he can think of to help.

"Hello, Sam," Cas says as soon as he picks up.

"Hey, Cas, long time, no talk."

"I apologize for that. Your brother has requested I cease contact with you."

Sam is surprised by that, but only until he realizes that Dean probably blames Cas for Sam's decision to leave. "I'm calling about Dean, actually. He's a mess without you."

"I've been a bit of a mess myself, Sam. That's what happens when two people break up."

"But you don't understand, Cas. He's been sleeping with all kinds of people. He's drunk all the time. I think he started smoking pot, maybe other stuff."

Cas stops him before he can go on. "I'm sorry to hear that, Sam, but there isn't anything I can do about it. Dean decided to end our relationship, and he was very clear about that decision. I don't know what you want me to do."

"Talk to him. Make him see reason. I know you love him. Tell him. He's being a stubborn ass, but I know he loves you, too. He's falling apart without you."

Castiel sighs, and the way his voice squeaks, Sam thinks he might be near tears. "I've already tried, Sam. He isn't interested. I wish I could do more, but it isn't what he wants." He stops for a second, and Sam hears what sounds like a choked sob. "I have to go. I promised Dean I would not have contact with you. Please do not call me again. Good luck at school. I'm sure you'll do well."

Sam feels like he might be drowning and his last life line has just been pulled. "Thanks, Cas. You uh… you, too." Cas doesn't say anything more and the dial tone sounds again before he can think of anything. Sam stares off into the middle distance, trying to figure out what to do next. Nothing comes to him. He can't not go to school, and it sounds like Cas is a dead end.

A noise in the bed next to him attracts his attention. Maybe if he talked to Dad about it, laid out what he thought Dean was doing? He's never abandoned Dean like this before.


Message Status: Draft

From: cnovak

To: impala67

Wednesday, February 21, 2001

Subject: Sam

Hello Dean,

I know that you asked me not to talk to Sam, but he called me today to talk to me about you. He is worried about you. He says that you are drinking too much and using drugs. I know you will never listen to me, but I would like you to stop. I understand that you have been taught by your father that the only coping mechanism for pain is alcohol, but that is not healthy, Dean. You have so much potential for good, to be good. I hate to think that you might be squandering it just to turn out like your father. I know you love your father dearly, but his is not a life to strive for. You are so much better than that. If you are trying to forget me, please just come back to me. I would rather grovel at your feet for a decade than see you destroy yourself. If this is because Sam is leaving, you can go with him. Please go with him. Be the best version of yourself you can be. Just please, please don't do this. Take care of yourself. You won't let me do it for you.

I love you very much. Please be safe.

Yours, always,

Castiel


Kissing Ryan is different than kissing Dean, more gentle, careful. Ryan touches him as though he were something precious, made of glass and easily breakable. Dean used to grip him so hard he'd leave bruises. Castiel thinks he might grow to miss the bruises, just as he misses every other part of Dean. They're sprawled out in Cas' bed, Ryan's fingers creeping up the back of his shirt, tugging the material with it. Cas knows what he's angling for. If this were Dean, the shirt would already be off, as would his pants, but this isn't Dean, and he feels his stomach start to clench in nerves. He pulls up a little.

"Can we, uh… slow down a little?" he asks, knowing he sounds meek and just a hair shy of juvenile.

Ryan's dark eyes soften from their lust-blown state, and he moves his hand out from under Castiel's shirt, brushing his fingertips along Cas' cheekbone. "Of course, sorry. It's easy to get lost in you."

Castiel blinks, tilts his head. He used to feel that way about Dean, but this didn't feel anywhere near that intense. At least not to him. "It's okay. I'm just… I probably should have explained things sooner." He sits up on his heels, putting a little more distance between them, careful.

"Explained what?" Ryan sits up, straightening his clothes a little as he settles against the pillows. There's a little crease between his eyebrows that hadn't been there the moment before.

"Until two months ago, I was in a long-term, long-distance relationship. It didn't end well, and I'm not over it." He might never be over it, he thinks, mentally sighing.

"I'm sorry, I had no idea. You should have told me; I wouldn't have pushed you to go out with me. I'll uh… I'll go." He starts to get up, but Castiel takes hold of his wrist, staying him.

"I'm still not over him, but I want to try. I like you quite a lot. I'd like to try. I just need to go very slowly." He looks down at his hand, loosely circling Ryan's tan wrist. "I know it's a lot to ask."

"I can be patient. You really want to try to be with me?"

"Yes, I do. I like being with you."

The corner of Ryan's mouth lifts up. "I like being with you, too." They look at each other for a long moment, exchanging more than words can express. Castiel thinks maybe he can find himself again with Ryan, figure out who he is without Dean. Five minutes ago, he wouldn't have even thought there was a version of himself he could be that didn't include Dean. But he can try, can't he?

"Wanna watch a movie?" Ryan asks.

"I don't have a television."

"I brought my laptop. We could borrow a movie from Avery or Neil."

"Alright. I'll go ask them." He gets up to ask, pausing to kiss Ryan on the cheek. Twenty minutes later, they're stretched out on the bed, curled in on each other, the laptop balanced on Ryan's lap, watching a movie about a fish trying to find his son.


The two guys aren't much help with his case, but that doesn't stop Dean from taking up their party invite. He loves a good frat party. Three hours and a dodged lecture from Sam later, Dean's filling his cup with more cheap beer while the girl behind him taps her foot in impatience. "Having trouble, there?" a sharp voice asks,

Dean turns with a smirk, just managing not to spill his beer on her. "Got somewhere to be, sweetheart?" Everything's a little fuzzy and spinning, but he is still struck dumb by her beauty. A tight jean skirt and a tighter tank top show off plenty of her warm, tan skin and her hair is a force all of its own. Dean immediately imagines running his fingers through it.

She rolls her eyes, pushing past him to get to the keg. "I have no patience for drunk frat boys."

"You think I'm a frat boy? I'm flattered. It's because I'm so handsome, right? I think it's because I'm so handsome."

She gives him a once-over over her shoulder and snorts. "You keep thinking that, Van Wilder." She moves to walk away, but Dean can't let her go that quickly. Something about her draws him to her like a bee to pollen. She pauses in the kitchen doorway and eyes him. "Are you following me?"

"'Course. Can't deprive you of my sparkling presence, now can I?"

She rolls her eyes, but she isn't walking away, so Dean counts it as a win. "How are you even standing right now?"

"I gotta lotta practice."

"I'm sure you do. You look the type."

"I'm wounded."

"You're about to be woozy if you don't get off my ass so I can go dance."

"I can dance. I love to dance."

"I'm not letting your drunk ass anywhere near me," she says, but the way she's looking tells him she isn't completely disinterested.

"Why not? Afraid you won't be able to get enough once you've got me?" he asks, stepping into her personal space. She looks up at him with big, gorgeous brown eyes, having to crane her neck a little because he's that much taller than her. He can feel the heat radiating off her, can almost see it, but that's probably the ecstasy talking.

"How high are you right now?" she asks with a skeptical squint of her eyes. He hasn't seen anyone look at him like that since Cas, and it makes him want to kiss her until she forgets her own name.

"Very. Wanna join me?"

"No thanks. I'm not trying to run from my problems. I like to face them head-on."

Dean cocks his head, making himself a little dizzy in the process. "What makes you think I'm running from my problems?"

"Oh please," she snorts. "You've got my-girlfriend-just-dumped-me-and-I'm-trying-to-pretend-it-doesn't-bother-me written all over your face. I'm not a rebound, and I'm not interested in anyone with drug problems." She turns to walk away, but he instinctively grabs her wrist, pulling her gently back.

"Wait," he says. She raises an eyebrow at him and does as he asks, giving him a penetrating stare that is the wrong side of intimidating. Dean folds like a napkin. "Fine, I've got issues. It's complicated. Maybe I like to self-medicate. Doesn't mean I'm interested in you as a rebound."

She continues to consider him, those eyes boring into him. "If you can keep your hands to yourself, you can dance."

Dean immediately puts his hands behind his back, grinning. "You can tie 'em if you like." He gets a smack in the stomach for his cheek, but she doesn't stop him from following her towards the living room.


Message Status: Draft

From: cnovak

To: impala67

Monday, April 16,2001

Subject: Easter

Happy Easter,

I came out to my parents on Saturday. There were a lot of tears and a little bit of shouting, but in the end it went well. Christine was right. They love me regardless of my sexual orientation. Neither of my parents is ready to join a PFLAG group by any means, but they are supportive. I'm not ready to bring Ryan home to them yet, and I didn't tell them about you, but I think with time, things will turn out well.

I wish you had been there to hold my hand, though. I wish I had been able to bring you with me, introduce you to them, let them see what a beacon of light you are. I miss you every day. Every time my phone rings, a small part of me hopes that it's you. It never is. I hope you are being safe. Please come back to me.

Yours, always,

Castiel


When Dean opens his eyes the next morning, his headache is so horrible that it messes with his equilibrium and he immediately has to find the nearest sink. When he's done puking, he presses his head against the cool surface of the bathroom mirror and tries to remember what happened last night. There was beer, lots of beer. And ecstasy, he remembers scoring that from a frat boy with four popped collars and douchebag practically tattooed on his forehead. Hair. He remembers big, black, curly hair, soft and fluffy. He doesn't think he got to touch the hair, though. He rubs at his face, pauses when he sees the writing on the back of his hand. Cassie 740-458-2286. "Oh." A flood of memories trample over him, all fighting to be the one he focuses on. She'd given him so much shit, and she'd been so beautiful, he was worried she might be a goddess in disguise. And fuck was that cheesy to think. He hadn't said that to her, right? He tries to think back, doesn't think he did. His skin is buzzing with the memory of her. He has to talk to her again, see her. He hasn't wanted to talk to someone so badly since— He refuses to think about it, pulls out his phone, dials before he can even register what he's doing.

"Hello?" a feminine voice he recognizes asks.

"Cassie?" Dean asks, hoping he got it right.

"Speaking, who's this?"

"Dean, from the party last night?"

"Dean, oh, hey. I didn't think you'd be up this early, or that you'd remember me."

"How could I forget a gorgeous face like yours?"

"Oh, so you only remember my face, huh? Way to make a girl feel special."

"You like it."

She doesn't answer him, but he can sense her smile over the phone. "What can I help you with, Dean?"

"You could do me a huge favor and go to dinner with me."

"Dinner, huh? You don't seem like the dinner type."

"Food is one of my favorite things." She hums, and he waits a few more seconds before asking again. "So, dinner?"

There's another pause. "Pick me up at 8:00."

"Done. You're gonna love my car."

"Goodbye, Dean." She hangs up before he can say more. When he pulls the phone away, he's grinning like an idiot.


Castiel enjoys laying in the grass and staring up at the sky. He feels closer to God this way, more connected with the earth and the spiritual, more grounded. He watches an industrious bee buzz by above his head and wonders what it must be like to be a creature with such clear, unwavering purpose.

His gaze—as well as his train of thought—is interrupted by that of his boyfriend, smiling down at him as though from atop a skyscraper, his hands full of books. "There you are. Avery said she thought you'd be on the Quad."

"I like watching the sky."

Ryan crouches, then sits next him, setting his books down on the grass. "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all." He lays an arm out in invitation and Ryan stretches out next to him, laying his head in the crook of Castiel's arm. His body is a warm, solid weight against Castiel's. They watch the sky for a long while without speaking, each lost in his own thoughts. Eventually, Ryan arches his neck to look at Castiel.

"I thought you were going to grad school this fall, but Avery said you're keeping your lease?"

"I am doing both, didn't I tell you?" He pauses a moment, remembers that he'd talked at length with Dean about his plans, but they had never come up with Ryan. "The University of Illinois has an excellent online program. I'll be able to stay here and continue my work at Regenstein while completing my degree. The university is even subsidizing my tuition."

"Really? That's awesome." His smile is all goofy and pleased when he arches his neck to look up at Castiel. "Does that mean we can keep doing… this?"

"That depends. Are you staying in the city?"

"Yeah, I'm going to stay at CPL for now, work a while before I get my MLIS."

"Then, I suppose it does. Unless you don't want to continue?" Castiel had been teasing, but Ryan sits up on his elbow in one fast motion and looks down at Castiel with concern, brows knitted together in concern.

"Of course I want you." He leans down to kiss Castiel, combing a hand through his hair and leaning over him on his elbow. Cas kisses back, a giddy feeling fluttering inside him. He never thought anyone would want to stay, and yet here Ryan is. Steady and eager to be with him, to make a life with him even. It feels nice. He pretends not to hear the small, constant voice whispering at the back of his brain, reminding him of all the ways Ryan isn't Dean.


He gets the call at 5:30 in the morning, and Cassie's barely coherent when he tells her he has to leave, bleary-eyed and blinking at him from the bed they've shared for almost a month. Every atom in his body wants to crawl back in bed with her and pretend he never heard his dad's voice, but there's a monster killing people, and Dad needs him.

"I'm sorry, baby, I gotta go. My dad needs my help."

"Right now?"

"Yeah."

"Where?"

"Boston."

She pauses, peers at him. "He wants you to drive all the way to Boston today? Did someone die?"

Dean sighs, shaking his head. She's not going to understand, and he doesn't have a good answer. "Maybe? It's uh… it's kind of complicated."

"Well, are you coming back?" she asks, sitting up to lean against his back, her warm hands cupping his shoulders, holding him close to her.

"Yeah, 'course."

"When?"

"I uh… I'm not sure. It sort of depends on what's happening with my dad and Sammy."

"Well, are we talking days or weeks?"

"Months, maybe?"

"What?" She pulls away, tugs the sheet closer to hide her naked chest, frowning at him. She's fully awake now, he can see.

"I told you, it's complicated."

"Explain it to me."

"I can't. It's a secret. I'm sorry." He tugs at his hair, frustrated that he can't just tell her, and also a little that she can't just accept things. Cas always could. He might not have been happy about it, but he knew when to let things go.

"So, what, you're just going to up and leave, possibly for months, and you can't tell me why because it's a secret? Really, Dean?" He can feel her eyes on him, dismantling without saying a fucking word.

He groans, slumping with his elbows resting on his knees. "You wanna know why I gotta leave? There's a monster killing grandmas in Boston, and my dad needs me to help him figure out what's doing the killing before another little old lady kicks it," he says, too fucking tired and warn down from everything that's happened in the last few months to care about the lie anymore. A part of him hopes she'll believe him, but the rest knows that she won't. Why would she? He sounds crazy even to his own ears.

She makes a frustrated noise and gets out of bed, pulling clothes on with vicious anger. "You could at least tell me the truth, asshole. I thought we were building something here."

"I did tell you the truth! That's what's going on, that's why I don't know how long it'll take. It might take us weeks just to figure out what the fucker is, and then who knows how long to gank it. I'm sorry, it's just the way things are."

"The way things are? Do you realize how crazy you sound right now? That doesn't make any sense. There are no monsters in the world, Dean. Just people." She pauses, eyes him up and down. He wants to argue, but he can't find the words. He's never talked to anyone about hunting who wasn't either a hunter or dealing with something that needed to be hunted. He flounders, unsure how to fix this, how to make her understand. He can't lose her, too. Not after…

"Are you a serial killer? Is that what you're trying to tell me?" she asks finally, taking a step away from him.

Dean snorts, shakes his head. It probably looks that way to an outside, but no. "No, I'm not a serial killer, sweetheart. I'm a hunter."

"Oh, a hunter, huh? And what do you hunt? Let me take a guess, it isn't dear." The way her hair bounces out from her head makes it appear to be swelling, growing with her anger. It makes her look like a lion about to bite his head off. It should be sexy, but it scares him too much, and not in the good way.

"Ghosts. Werewolves. I came here for a banshee, stayed for you." He adds the last in a quiet, cracked voice that he doesn't recognize. Something's growing in his chest, huge and scary, something that he knows has been building for months now, since… since Cas. He swallows it down, forcing it. Now isn't the time.

Cassie laughs, mocking and ugly. "Werewolves? Really? And I'm supposed to believe this? Wow, Dean, that's a new one. If you didn't care about me, all you had to do was say so. You don't have to make up some bullshit excuse if you want to go. I'm a big girl. I can handle it."

"I don't care about you? Are you serious?" The thing that's swelling snarls, bucking at his chest, forcing him to confess. "I've only ever felt this way about one other person before, and I…" He resists the urge to punch a wall. She doesn't deserve to have to pay for the damages, and he doesn't want to scare her any more than he already has. "Look, I didn't even tell Cas about this, and we were together for a lot longer," he insists, trying to grab her bicep, hoping to make her understand him.

"Cas who?" she snaps, snatching her arm back from his touch.

Dean immediately backs off, even more self-conscious than he already was. "Cas was my uh… my long-term thing."

She snorts, shaking her head. "Her name was Cas, too? Really, Dean? Do you have a fetish or something? Maybe you are a serial killer. Is this your way of telling me it's my turn?"

Dean sets his jaw, clenching his fist. "His name was Castiel. I can't help it if I fall for two people named Cas. I'm not a fucking serial killer. I kill monsters, not people." He gives her a wounded look, self-hatred and hurt curling in his chest. "I would never hurt you. I thought you knew that."

"I thought I knew a lot of things about you, too, Dean, but it turns out I was wrong. You're crazy. Get out and don't come back. I'm not dealing with this shit." She throws his shirt hard at his chest and walks out, slamming the bathroom door behind her. He hears the shower a minute later. His heart is breaking, he thinks, but there isn't much he can do about it. She didn't believe him. Who would? It's not like he could show her, at least not without putting her in danger. And he doesn't have time, anyway. His dad needs him. He gets dressed quickly and leaves, making sure that the door is locked behind him and that he has everything he brought with him.

He doesn't realize he's crying until he's twenty miles down the highway.