Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed.

For the record, Supernatural is still not mine. Also, computers are evil.

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"Sam, quit whining and go play pool."

"I am not whi—"

"Yes, you are. Look, we're going to get into Detroit tomorrow, and unless you want all three of us trying to camp in an ice cold car, we need to make some money. Like tonight. I'm not seeing any poker games around, so go play pool."

Sam rolled his eyes, tipped a portion of the contents of the cup he held onto his shirt, and downed the rest in one gulp. "Jerk."

"Bitch."

Dean turned back to the bar, but Castiel watched as Sam—moving more slowly than usual, and stumbling slightly for some reason—made his way to the green-topped tables by the far wall and struck up a conversation with one of the men standing idle.

"Hey," Dean slapped his arm lightly. "Eyes front. We'll wander that way later, but we've got to let him get settled in first. Keep them from getting suspicious. 'Sides, we still need to loosen you up a little. Half the people here are probably just waiting for you to pull out a stack of W-2s."

"A stack of what?"

"Never mind. Bartender!" He waved a hand, and the man shut the register and came over to them. Dean pushed Castiel's still half-full glass of water across the bar, along with his own empty glass. "My cousin, here, he's finally decided to get out and live a little. Give us two, uh—two of whatever he's having." He indicated the person closest to them, a man sitting a few stools down staring intently into his drink.

"Coming right up," the bartender said with a smile, before Castiel could protest the loss of his water. He'd decided yesterday evening that water was the one and only entirely safe thing to drink around the Winchesters—all too much of what they liked seemed to have those ridiculous bubbles that Sam referred to as carbonation. He had yet to be able to drink a glass without coughing. Or, worse, hiccupping, which for some reason the boys seemed to find hilarious.

"It's blue," Castiel observed as the bartender set two glasses on the bar, one in front of him and one in front of Dean.

"That it is." Dean picked up his glass and took a swallow. "Damn, that's not bad."

Castiel lifted his glass as well, considering it for a moment. The liquid was quite blue. In fact he was fairly certain that he'd never seen anything in that particular shade before.

"Uh, Cas, the idea is to drink that."

"Yes." And his name was Castiel, but he'd decided to accede to the boys' suggestion and go by 'Cas', at least in public. Although they had continued to do so in private, as well, despite repeated corrections. He considered the glass for a moment longer, but…unorthodox…behavior aside, the Winchester boys had yet to lead him to any kind of deliberate harm. He mimicked Dean's actions and took a large swallow. And then nearly dropped the glass in surprise as a strange warmth spread down his throat. It didn't precisely taste bad, just…odd. He tapped his free hand on the bar lightly. He was having to use that word to describe mortal sensations far too often for his tastes.

"Pretty good, huh?" Dean asked.

"I…." Castiel set the glass down on the bar carefully. "It is…different."

"What, liquor not your thing? And you spit that sip of beer halfway across the motel room last night, too…man, what do angels do for fun? Play mah-jongg?"

"Beer is vile." And the concept of fun was something he had only a passing acquaintance with.

Dean snorted, finishing his glass and waving to the bartender to bring another. "Guess that explains why you decided to posses a tax accountant."

"I told you before, he was a devout man. He prayed for this."

"Yeah, well, I still think that's nuts. I mean, what was the prayer—'Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep, and by the way, if you feel like jamming an angel down my throat, go for it'?"

"He asked to be used in the service of God's will. And I was not 'jammed down his throat'."

"Guess that's seriously one of those careful what you wish for things, then. Or pray for, as the case may be." Castiel stared at him for a moment, and Dean shrugged. "Let's just say I have a feeling you might have taken the guy a little more literally than he intended."

"God can see into the heart of a man."

"I…right." Dean shook his head. "But I'm still thinking the guy didn't see you coming. However you got in." He took another drink and then turned back to Castiel. "Uh, do me a favor and remind me to tell Sam that if he still prays, he really needs to tack on a 'but no possession by angels' clause. Just in case."

Castiel couldn't think of any circumstance in which Father would use a demon-touched mortal as a vessel, but there seemed to be little point in saying so. He nodded.

"And speaking of Sam, we should probably go make some money." Dean picked up his glass and stood, indicating the mostly-full glass still in front of Castiel. "Come on, and bring that along. You don't have to drink it if you don't want to, but a guy standing around a bar at midnight with no alcohol looks a little weird."

"What are we going to do?"

"I believe the technical term is 'hustle.'"

"We are going to move quickly?"

"Uh, not exactly. Well," he shrugged, "actually we might, later—it sometimes works out like that—but…."

Castiel followed Dean across the room, towards the green-topped table where Sam was now playing a game against an older man. Billiards, the game was called, if he remembered correctly, although he had no idea how it was actually played.

Dean grunted something in the general direction of a couple other men watching, taking up a position leaning against the wall. Castiel moved to stand beside him.

"Dude, slouch, would you?" Dean muttered under his breath, before turning to the nearest observer. "How's the game?"

"Just started this one, but they've been at it, for a bit."

"Kid's doing all right," one of the other men said.

Dean gave Sam a considering glance as Sam whacked one of the balls with a stick, sending it careening into several other balls, one of which dropped into holes in the table. "Eh, not bad."

The man who'd made the statement about Sam glanced at another quickly, and then, "Couple of us have a little side bet going…technically this game's already started, but we could probably still let you in. If you're interested."

"Hm." Dean stared at Sam again, as though he'd never seen him before, and then, "Sure, why not. What're the stakes?"

Dean had turned slightly away from Castiel to speak to the man, and Castiel was starting to move up beside him when a thin figure with blonde and—purple?—hair appeared in front of him, smiling up at him. "Hey, handsome."