Chapter Fourteen:

A client is threatening to leave, Dean sent quickly, brushing his hair back with one hand and typing out the text with another. He straightened his tie, glanced in the mirror, looking over himself again. The phone buzzed back quickly.

Should they?

No! Dean replied, scowling as he did so. Then added: But I mean, probably. I would if I were him.

Then what are you going to do to make it not worth leaving?

Lower rates?

No - better product. Outline your step-by-step plan to improve your product over the next three months.

Okay. I don't have one of those.

Dean set the phone down while he moved over to Sam's door, banging heavily on it.

"I'm heading out!" he called. There was a hesitation before Sam mumbled something barely audible and Dean shrugged and went back to his phone.

What time is the meeting?

4

Then you have an hour and a half to make one.

Dean frowned again. Cas was particularly unsympathetic today. He should check the news to see if there's any new controversy springing up.

Heading out of the apartment and down the stairs he let his phone rest. He still preferred to walk most places, but it was getting harder and harder to make all his appointments. Today, though, he just had the one.

As we walked he kept hoping for another text to come in. It didn't.

It was Saturday morning when Dean decided to actually try and phone Cas. To his surprise, the boy picked up after the second ring.

"Yes?"

"Cas!" Dean said, leaning back against the kitchen counter. "How've you been doing?"

"Busy," Cas replied, his voice monotone over the speaker.

"And?"

"And a lot of work," he said, without really clarifying anything. "I've got a ton of paperwork, and since graduation I haven't really had an excuse to pass along the work to Gabriel or Michael or anyone more experienced."

"Okay, but outside of work?" Dean tried, picking at a hangnail with his teeth.

"Nothing you need to worry about," Cas said, and Dean could almost - almost - hear the sigh in his voice.

"Maybe I want to," Dean mumbled. He heard Cas growl to himself, papers shuffling about.

"What about your meeting. How did that go?"

"It's fine," Dean snapped. "Dude left anyway but we're fine." He could feel Cas moving about wherever he was. The shift of the phone, the sound of air. Suddenly, it was windy in his right ear. Cas was moving.

"Well, always another client. What's your next move?"

"Dude, it's always business with you," Dean said suddenly. "What happened to the Cas that got happy-drunk on halloween?"

"You only seem interested in business," Cas said, and the words stung more than he would ever admit. "I thought that's what you wanted."

"Don't play the victim card," Dean sighed. "You know it's not like that."

"Have you done a lot of writing lately?"

Dean's eyes flicked up, catching the printed, fifty-page manuscript he had indeed been writing. About half of it was covered in red pen scribbles from his rudimentary editing sessions. He stared at it a moment.

"No," he replied. "Not really."

"The kids had the high school really want to read more from you," Cas said. "You almost had a cult following there."

"Yeah," Dean huffed, looking up to the ceiling. He didn't like the phone - he didn't know where his eyes should go. When he focussed them, he found something to look at. A crooked painting on the wall. Dust on a shelf. A scratch in the paint. When he didn't focus them, his mind seemed to wander. He couldn't talk. He tried to focus on the deepness of Cas' voice, and the way he used to smile only with his eyes. He tried and tried, but he missed him so badly.

"Big news, talking about writing," Cas said. "Have you heard about Chuck?"

Have you heard about Chuck was almost offensive. No he had not. In fact, both Chuck and Charlie had escaped his notice for many weeks now. Months, maybe. Off to broader horizons. He was pretty sure Charlie was backpacking someone in Spain - or Switzerland, maybe - with some girl she'd met. Chuck was… who knew. Applying to Universities. Maybe he was already going to class. He hadn't been very up to date with his texting.

"No, what happened with Chuck?" Dean said, running a hand over his eyes.

"He got picked up by a big publishing company," Cas said. "His work's going to be displayed all across North America."

"Really?" Dean said, genuinely happy but also a little surprised. "Which story?"

"I Am God," Cas said. "The one with the squirrel that turns into a human? Have you read it?"

Dean shook his head, then corrected himself. "No, I never did. I'll have to pick it up when it comes out. When is that?"

"Next November - just after Halloween."

Halloween. What mixed feelings that holiday brought to him.

"We're throwing a release party the week before," Cas said quietly. "If you're willing to make the trip, you're invited," he added, his voice dropping even further.

Dean swallowed nervously, glancing along his wall and up towards the calendar. Last week of October? It was so far away. What were the chances he'd be able to miss an entire week, especially just for one day. It was such a long drive - and Dean wasn't comfortable spending that sort of money on a plane ticket.

But on the other hand, the prospect of seeing Cas and Chuck and Charlie and everyone else was too appealing. He closed his eyes, picturing it now - Charlie, bringing in alcohol it was finally legal for them to have. Chuck, resisting until said alcohol kicked in. Maybe they'd go for a drive, maybe they'd play board games or watch stupid movies. Either way, it would be perfect and fun and relaxing.

It would be kid-like, he thought. Ever since moving to New York, he hadn't felt like a teenager. Being with the others, that was the first time everything hadn't been about survival. It had been living. Real living.

And Cas would be there. Cas, with his scruffy hair. Cas, with his unbelievably blue eyes. Cas, with his everything. Cas, grinning. Cas, laughing. Cas, Cas, Cas.

Dean was losing his mind. He thought maybe going back might help.

"We'll see," Dean promised, but he knew his voice sounded thin.

"I know," Cas agreed, and the heartache Dean could hear made him want to scream. No! No! No! You don't see! You don't know! This isn't it. This isn't me. This is survival. This is necessary. This is life, now. Life is busy. Life is work. Life is work and busy and soon, soon there will be more. Soon he would be there.

He hadn't touched a car engine in months.

He didn't think he was surviving.