Chapter Twelve

"Dorian, do you feel I may have spoiled you a bit?" Cas asks his dog. The animal in question hops around on his newly purchased dog bed, switching from toy to toy, overwhelmingly excited from the selection and unable to choose just one to play with. Cas chuckles warmly, "No, I didn't think so."

It had been little over a week since Cas had gained his furry roommate, and he couldn't be happier. It seemed that the loneliness that so often crept up on Cas and tapped him on the shoulder was chased away by the comfort that unconditional companionship could provide. And, in the event that he took a bad turn, Dorian seemed to be able to sense it, trotting over to Cas' side and laying his scruffy head in Cas' lap. While scratching the pup's ears and petting the scraggly fur didn't completely erase the occasional sadness, it gave him something else to focus on and made the feelings easier to cope with.

The fading evening sunlight trickles in through the kitchen window as Cas fixes Dorian his supper and freshens his water bowl. Just as he finishes, his phone starts ringing. He pulls it out of his pocket and swipes to the right.

"Hello?"

"Uh, hey, it's Dean."

"Hello, Dean," Cas answers, happily surprised to hear the other boy's voice.

"So, me and Sammy were thinking of going bowling tonight. You in?"

Cas hesitates for a fraction of a second.

"Bowling? With you?"

"And Sam."

"…In public?" Cas clarifies.

"Oh, well, not really. A buddy of mine is the manager at the bowling alley, he swiped the keys for me so we can go after closing. Pretty sure the guy thinks I've got a hot date or something from the way he acted," Dean explains with a laugh. Cas thinks he hears a nervous edge to it, but he shrugs it off.

"That would be the easier explanation," Cas says.

"No kidding. So… what do ya say?"

Cas casts a glance at Dorian, who is happily munching on his kibble. Cas still worries slightly about leaving the dog alone, but so far Dorian had been fine while Cas had gotten pet supplies, so he doesn't see a problem with going out for an hour or two. "Absolutely, I can't remember the last time I went bowling."

A laugh on the other end of the line, this one sounding much more Dean, "Well, prepare to get your ass kicked."

Cas chuckles and leans against the counter, "We'll see about that. I may surprise you."

"Yeah, you always do," Dean says with a chuckle. Cas raises his eyebrows at the unexpected reply and tries to come up with something to say, but ultimately fails. The line is silent for a moment or two before Dean clears his throat.

"Pick you up 'round 10, then?"

"That would be great."

"'Kay, I'll text you when I'm there."

Cas smirks, feeling a bit playful, "Dean, I'm fairly certain I could hear the roar of that engine from at least a mile away."

"Heh, yeah, that's Baby all right," and Cas is sure he can hear the smile through the phone.

"You made fun of me for naming my dog 'Dorian', but you call your car 'Baby'?" Cas counters.

"Touché, Novak. See ya soon."

"Goodbye, Dean."

"Later, Cas."

Just as Cas had predicted, he hears the tell-tale roaring of Dean's sleek black Impala at five after ten. Cas stands up from the couch where he'd been channel-flipping with Dorian and checks his appearance in the hallway mirror before mentally chiding himself for such ridiculous behaviour. He gives Dorian a wave and tries not to feel too guilty when the pup lets out a small yet sorrowful whine.

"I'll be back soon, little guy," Cas reassures him.

As Cas walks out the door, he automatically reaches out to where his trenchcoat hangs on the coatrack, but stops short, his hands brushing the beige fabric worn soft through use. He gives it a questioning glance before a car honks and Cas smiles, rolling his eyes at the elder Winchester's obvious impatience, before deciding to forgo the coat. He walks out the door and slides into the backseat of the car.

"Hello, Dean, Sam. Thank you for inviting me," Cas says politely.

"No problem," Dean replies.

Dean's clipped tone is a complete 180 to the voice he had spoken to on the phone earlier, and for a moment Cas is terrified that he's done something wrong. He voices his concern. Sam's small brunette head turns around in his seat to regard Cas seriously.

"It's nothing you did, Cas, don't worry about it," says the boy. Even in the dim light of the street lamps, Cas can see the dark black eye that adorns Sam's face.

Before he can think better of it, the words are already out of Cas' mouth, "God, Sam, what happened to you?"

Dean visibly tenses and his grip on the steering wheel tightens. Cas puts two and two together and reasons that the black eye is the cause of the tension that lays thick in the car.

Cas' anxiety surfaces and he picks at his nails, feeling uncomfortable in such an environment.

Sam sighs, "I had a run-in with some bullies at school today, no big deal…"

"No big deal?" Dean suddenly cries out indignantly, "How can you even say that, Sam?"

Cas feels Dean's anger towards Sam, and doesn't particularly understand it. Surely Dean doesn't actually blame Sam for others' violent stupidity? He wants to ask, but feels as if he would be intruding on what is clearly a family matter.

"Dean, come on, can we just drop it?" Sam asks, his voice pleading.

"No, I'm not gonna just fucking drop it. You know why? 'Cause I wanna know why the hell you let those guys beat the shit out of you."

And that was about all Cas had to hear to break his silence. He bristled at Dean's words, angry that Dean would berate Sam for "letting" himself get hurt. As a victim of bullying himself in his younger days, Cas knew there was no "letting" about it.

"Dean, I very much doubt that Sam had any choice in the matter," Cas says icily. Dean actually laughs.

"No choice? He could have fought back!"

"They were probably bigger than him!"

"You bet they were."

"Then why are you saying all this?"

"Because he could have taken them."

Cas pauses in the argument, confusion replacing some of the anger. He's trying to figure out what to say when Sam, who'd been understandably quiet, speaks up.

"He's right."

"What? But… if they were bigger than you…?" Cas asks, trailing off.

"They were bigger, but Dad trained me for that. To use people's strength against them."

And then it clicks. Cas had erroneously assumed that Dean, an avid member of the HVF, was the only one to be trained by John Winchester, but of coursethe man would have trained both his boys. Cas' stomach sickens at the thought; Sam would have been even younger than Dean if John had started their training at the same time.

"You didn't fight back," Cas says, more of a statement than a question. Sam nods. Cas can't help but continue, "Why?"

"Exactly what I wanna know," Dean agrees. Sam seems to shrink a little in his seat.

"I just… I don't want any part of it. That life. And I…"

"What, Sam?" Cas coaxes gently, not exactly about to trust Dean's sensitivity at that moment.

"I don't want to be the freak," Sam admits and Dean's grip on the steering wheel becomes even tighter.

Cas risks a glance at the rear view mirror and looks at Dean's face, caught in obvious indecision. The bright green eyes flick from the road to Sam, and his expression seems angry still, but considering. Cas wonders if it was always like this for Dean: caught between his loyalty to his father and to what his life had become, and his fierce protectiveness of his brother. Suddenly Dean's vice-like grip on the steering wheel slackens, and his body seems to lose some of its tension, and it's clear to Cas that Dean has made up his mind. Dean is not going to let this come between him and the boy who Cas assumes is one of Dean's only allies in this dark and broken world.

"I didn't know you felt that way," Dean admits, "And I know you got your reasons, even if I sure as shit don't understand them. Just like I've got my reasons for trying to take care of my pain-in-the-ass little brother!" Dean finishes with a laugh, reaching out a hand to tussle Sam's hair. Sam bats him away with indignation, true to form, but he's smiling as he does it.

Cas finds himself smiling too, if a little bit sad, remembering what it felt like to have those moments of genuine unabashed affection for a sibling. Gabriel and Samandriel had – as all siblings do – gotten on Cas' nerves extremely often, but at the end of the day, Cas loved them more than he ever had a chance to express.

Dean pulls the Impala to a stop in an empty parking lot in front of a building with a flashing "Bwlig" sign, the "o" and "n" having evidently burnt out. Dean puts the car in park and turns off the rumbling engine.

"Well," Dean says, looking at his two passengers, "What do you say we forget about all this and have ourselves a good time, huh?"

Cas and Sam both nod with a smile as Dean fumbles with a set of keys he'd procured from his jacket pocket. Six keys and some light cursing later, the front door is successfully unlocked and the unlikely trio walk inside. Dean flicks on the lights.

Cas has immediate flashbacks of every terrible 80s movie he's ever seen.

Everything is various shades of gaudy neon, faded with age and use. It's a rather small place, with only five 10-pin bowling lanes and a small bar in the back that looks like it's seen better days. Each lane has a table with uncomfortable-looking chairs, the bright veneer well-worn and cracking.

Despite the grim appearance, Cas feels more excited than he has been in months.

Sam goes to take a seat at one of the lane's tables, beginning to input their names into the ancient computer system that controls the scoreboard. Dean, on the other hand, heads to a booth towards the side of the alley. Both brothers look like they've done this a thousand times before.

Dean hops the booth, and emerges with a pair of bowling shoes.

"Hey Sammy, what size shoes you want for those clown feet of yours?" Dean asks with a smirk. Sam rolls his eyes and Cas tries (and fails) to bite back a smile.

"Ugh, gross. Do you know how many germs-" Sam starts, but Dean interrupts impatiently.

"Do you want 'em or not?"

"Yeah, I'll pass."

"Suit yourself, spoil sport. Cas?"

Dean looks at Cas expectantly, awaiting an answer. Cas is tempted to side with Sam, but one look at Dean's boyish grin and he knows he's screwed.

"Size 11, please."

"You got it."

Dean emerges a minute later in a pair of lime green shoes with highlighter yellow laces, holding out an electric blue pair to Cas, which he takes.

"Real stylish," Sam remarks sarcastically.

"You're just jealous," Dean replies, clicking his heels together.

And with that they start the game, Dean going first, Sam second, and Cas last. Dean lines up his shot and knocks down all pins but one, a mistake he rectifies on his second shot. He smiles smugly as he swaggers back to his seat. Sam takes his turn and ends up knocking down an admirable eight pins. Then it's Cas' turn.

Cas walks up to the lane feeling suddenly – and somewhat ridiculously – nervous. He looks at the balls and realizes that they're the classic bowling balls, with the three holes to put your fingers in for better grip. He's never used ones like these before; the last time he went bowling, he was a child at someone's birthday party and the bowling balls were much smaller, capable of fitting in one hand. He picks up the ball and holds it awkwardly. He attempts to line up his shot and-

Almost immediately into the gutter.

"Do you need us to put some bumpers on the lane for you, dude?" Dean calls out and without even looking at him, Cas knows he's got a teasing grin on his face. Cas doesn't turn around, he just holds up his middle finger in form of reply. He can hear Dean and Sam laugh, and he smiles, feeling a wonderful lightness in his stomach.

Cas takes an extra few moments with his second shot, getting used to the feel of the ball and lining up properly. He breathes out slowly and lets the ball loose.

All pins are knocked down in one fell swoop.

Cas turns around with a triumphant smile to see Sam laughing and Dean with his mouth slightly open in a shocked "o". The latter recovers quickly and leans back in his chair, attempting to look cool and collected.

"Pfft, beginner's luck," he says. He then gets up and starts to make his way towards the lane, getting ready to take his turn.

"You wish," Cas tosses back, going to pass Dean. Dean lightly punches Cas' arm in the jovial manner so often attributed to friends. It actually makes Cas stop dead in his tracks, but Dean doesn't notice as his back is towards his surprised friend.

Cas is almost certain that this is the first time Dean has initiated contact with him (while sober at least, but Cas has become accustomed to not thinking about that too much). A moment later when Cas comes to, he risks a glance at Sam who is regarding Cas with what can only be described as extreme amusement. Cas quickly averts his eyes and smiles shyly as he takes his seat.

It's silent save for the soft mechanical whir of the various lane mechanisms and some mumbled cursing from Dean, who's current turn is evidently not going as well as his last one. The silence at their table is broken by the creaking of Sam's chair as he gets out of it, opting to sit in the one right beside Cas instead. Cas can feel that I-need-to-tell-you-something-important energy in the air, and a more immature part of him just wants to keep his eyes forward so as not to have to deal with it. As he watches Sam's expectant face in his peripherals, however, Cas turns towards him.

"So, I've been thinking…" Sam starts, looking like he's trying to find the right words to say what he wants to. Cas finds this odd, seeing as how Sam Winchester doesn't strike him as the type of person who gets lost for words. They speak in quiet tones, so as not to be overheard.

"What about?"

"Just that I think you're… a good thing."

"Um, thank you?" Cas replies awkwardly, not exactly knowing how to respond to what he assumes is a compliment.

"No, I mean, a good thing for him," Sam replies, his eyes skidding over to Dean.

"Who, Dean?" Cas clarifies incredulously, biting back a startled laugh, "I'm fairly certain your brother could do just fine without me."

Sam shakes his head. "I mean it. I think he's smiled more today alone than I've seen him smile in the past month."

Cas' eyes widen at the sudden honest confession, but not quite in disbelief; he knows that Dean has a deep sadness he keeps locked tightly in the confines of his heart. Sometimes Cas privately wishes he could reach it, but then again, maybe it's not his to reach.

"I'm sure that's nothing to do with me. You're his brother, after all, he probably just enjoys spending time with you," Cas reasons, unsure if he's ready to accept what he thinks Sam may be getting at.

"I know he does, but… it's not the same. When he smiles at me, it just looks like… some kind of apology? I don't even really know for what, but it's hard to look at sometimes. I doubt he even knows he does it. But when he smiles at you, it's like… he's just Dean. He's not John Winchester's son, he's not an HVF member, he's not the brother who feels like he failed, he's just Dean. And… and I guess I wanted to thank you for that, it's been too long since I've seen him like that, so thank you."

Cas is stunned into silence. His brain has sent his thoughts careening off their tracks and he doesn't quite know how to recover them enough to form a coherent response.

Just then, Dean comes back to his seat, looking rather grumpy. "These lanes are off-kilter, man, I'm telling you."

Cas smiles a little in spite of Sam's confusing news, and can't resist replying, "It is a poor carpenter who blames his tools."

Dean just rolls his eyes, but the side of his mouth twitches as he does so, like he's trying not to laugh.

Cas looks at this and all he can think is that there's something he's just not getting. Sam had said that he – somehow – makes Dean happy, but had it not been Dean himself who said that Cas caused him so much pain? How could both things be happening at the same time? Without thinking, Cas puts his right arm across his chest, and lays his hand on the spot on his upper left arm where Dean had touched him.

In the against-all-odds journey of their burgeoning friendship, Cas had never even considered that he made Dean happy. He had always assumed it was only the other way around.

The rest of their game passes by quickly. In the end, Sam surprises them all by taking the lead, Cas not too far behind him, and Dean bringing up the rear (which he, predictably, was none too pleased about).

They head towards the Impala after Dean had locked up, laughing and teasing Dean about his loss. Sam surprises Cas by opening the rear door of the vehicle, giving Cas an undecipherable look before he slides in. Cas just shakes his head in a why-would-you-do-this-to-me fashion, before opening the passenger door and getting in.

If Dean is surprised at the new seating arrangement, he doesn't say anything. Instead, he cranks up some angry-sounding rock music and peels out of the drive.

Cas looks at Dean and realizes that this is Dean in his element: riding in his car, listening to music, and mouthing along while drumming his hands on the steering wheel enthusiastically. Cas smiles as he looks, Dean looks free in a way that Cas had never quite seen before. He decides he'd like to see a lot more of it.

They make short order of the drive home, getting lost in singing along loudly and off-key to the music (or at least, Dean and Sam do, Cas has never heard these songs in his life but he's more than happy to watch the brothers' antics). Soon enough, the Impala's engine is rumbling in Cas' driveway. He gives the boys another word of thanks, waving as the pair drive away.

He unlocks his front door, and is eagerly greeted by his furry friend. Cas laughs and squats to scratch Dorian's ears. Dorian licks a wet stripe up Cas' cheek in response. It mars Cas' cover-up, but he's unbothered. This is one person he'd never have to hide from.

"Hey, buddy. Yes, yes, I missed you too!" Cas laughs.

Later that night, Cas falls asleep with Dorian in his bed, memories of Metallica in his ears, and Dean in his thoughts.