Toward the end of the afternoon an assistant came in with a thin paper file. Dylaniel was the closest person to her, so he accepted the delivery. After taking a moment to skim through its contents, he sighed. Kaylee looked up from the laptop she was working on and frowned slightly.

"Another one?" she asked unenthusiastically, earning a nod of confirmation from Dylaniel, though he didn't look up from the papers.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Another what?"

His upper body was draped over the map table in fatigue. He'd given up on trying to count how many little random decisions and appointments he'd witnessed so far in the day. There had been a time when he thought that wars were action-packed and dramatic, but so far it was a whole lot of paper pushing.

"Another applicant." Kaylee closed the laptop, then stood up in preparation for something. "Hell is a divine monarchy and I haven't held up my end on one of the job requirements."

"Being the First Light runs in the bloodline, and she doesn't have any heirs," Dlyaniel clarified.

Tom's expression was fairly neutral, though the corner of his mouth turned down slightly at the way his little sister was being talked about.

"You have to have a kid as part of your job?" Dean sat up in surprise and discomfort. He barely knew her and she was thirty years old, but in a weird, alternate-reality way she was his niece. The entire idea that she might be a sexual entity was awkward, even ignoring the issue of bodily autonomy.

"It's not like I have a deadline, but essentially," she replied. "If I die and I don't have anyone to pass the throne down to things in Hell would be really fucked—and that'll mess things up up here. Crowley would probably try to operate as regent or something for long enough to figure something out, but who knows if that'll last."

"So you're getting pressure to marry?"

"Nobody really cares whether I get married." She shrugged. "It's just that I need to have kid or two. I don't even need to stick with the same co-parent."

"You haven't been able to find one that you can stand. You probably shouldn't start counting chickens," Tom suggested.

"Speaking of chickens, who's the next contestant?" Kaylee asked.

Dylaniel flipped back to the first page of what Dean realized must've been a personnel file. "Ariel."

"The mermaid?" Dean joked.

"Not quite." Tom smiled helplessly. "I'm not sure a half-fish could cut it in Hell."

"A quarter-fish," Kaylee corrected. "Yeah, I don't think Crowley'd be too happy filling Hell with saltwater. I—"

"Wait," Dean said while holding up a hand to silence her. "Let me savor the mental image."

"I'm guessing angel," Tom added, trying to find out more about his sister's suitor. "It's always interesting to see who the contenders are. All the factions want a claim to Hell."

"Throwing a little angel in the mix has been a popular idea with every faction except demons. Not that it'd be a problem. If I put my foot down on something Hell listens." Kaylee turned her attention back to Dylaniel, who was still looking over Ariel's file. "Dyl, what can you tell me about him/her/zie?"

"Currently him," Dylaniel replied. "He's a seraphim known as the 'Lion of Heaven.' He fell about eight years ago to join us and achieved command of a platoon within a few months. Ten commendations for service—many angels admire him."

"But you don't like him?" Kaylee guessed.

"I have a concern." Dylaniel looked down at a particular section of Ariel's file. "He has never served in an integrated unit. Because of his experience and a lack of field officers at the time of his fall, he was allowed to select his subordinates very early. He only selected angels, and since then only angels have requested transfer to his command."

"Well, this should be interesting. Tom and Dyl, I want you both in on this." Kaylee grinned at Dean. "Enjoy the show. You get to watch some more of the delightful politics of running this ensemble cast."


Ariel was a few inches shy of six feet, with a little muscle to him. His skin and hair hinted at some African lineage, but his intense grey eyes made Dean do a double take. He wore unremarkable military fatigues with a few small insignia denoting some meaning. Every movement he made was deliberate and precise.

Kaylee sat at her improvised throne while Tom and Dean sat at the small circular table in the corner. Dylaniel opted to stand at mild attention several feet to Kaylee's left. Ariel stopped about ten feet in front of her, placed his right hand to his chest and bowed.

"At ease," she said, causing him to nearly relax. "I'm told that you are courting me?"

"Yes. It would be an honor." His voice was quieter than Dean had expected, but he had to admit that the seraphim spoke with conviction.

"The evaluation process could be extensive. I will ask you some questions. There will be tests." Her eyebrows rose subtly at a thought. "What is the state of your vessel?"

"He was killed in battle one month after our joining, though I have maintained its health in all other respects."

"Your body's health will be independently verified if I deem you worth further consideration," Kaylee explained as she scanned him with her eyes, then continued, "Also, in the event that we have a child, if it ends up carrying any of your grace, you will be prevented from taking it or any of its issue as vessels."

"I—understand." Ariel's voice wavered in surprise at the thought, but agreed without hesitation. Tom nodded in approval at the seraphim's dumbfoundedness.

"So Ariel." Her voice lost some of its cold authority, but it would be a stretch to describe her demeanor as warm. "Tell me what made you decide to join us?"

"I spent years watching my siblings kill each other." He reconsidered his approach, then restarted. "I did not understand the war for many years. I did not question Heaven's purpose because it was the will of our father. After a one-year deployment, I returned to Heaven and found that my most beloved siblings were dead. At first I blamed the armies of Earth, but when I realized how few of us were left in Heaven…. Our father could have restored Heaven, but he is not behind them."

"Do you think your father favors us?" Kaylee asked as she studied Ariel like someone might a classical piece by some famous painter.

"No." Ariel's jaw clenched. "I think he is... lost."

"If neither side is blessed, then why did you fall for us? You were already home."

Ariel shifted a bit, revealing some level of discomfort. Dean had seen angels use these otherwise-human tells, but he'd found them difficult to read. It wasn't obvious if the seraphim was offended, embarrassed, or sad—but any and all of those possibilities piqued his curiosity.

"Heaven would sacrifice all of our lives wagering on an idea," Ariel answered. "I cannot believe in paradise when I cannot believe in the judgment of those who would take me there."

Kaylee nodded to help signal her appreciation for his answers so far. "I can see you care a great deal about your siblings. I'd like to know your thoughts on humans."

"To be honest I did not give them much thought until I fell. I served on Earth during the Second Punic War for one month, though I did not interact with more than twenty humans. I was charged with preserving holy relics and spent most of my time in a temple. In the last several years I have had more extensive interactions with them. Overall, I've found them to be resilient and very adaptive; both admirable qualities."

"How do you feel about their culture?"

"Some of their tendencies are…." Ariel chose his phrasing carefully. "Overwhelming to the senses. Mostly the smells of their food, which they take an inordinate amount of pride in, and their recreational sounds."

Kaylee smiled slightly. "You're not a fan of music?"

"I do not believe I understand the point," he admitted. "But several of my respected siblings seem to appreciate it, so I may have simply not considered it enough."

"Tell me your thoughts on nephilim," she instructed without warning.

His brow and mouth wavered for a moment, caught off guard by the change of topic, but he quickly replied, "They are necessary—" Ariel stopped talking so quickly that Dean thought he must've literally bit his tongue, but then the seraphim looked at Dylaniel in alarm and Dean realized it had actually been figurative tongue biting. "My words were poorly chosen. I was wrong to say that."

"No, you were right. We are necessary and you did choose your words poorly," Dylaniel responded with a colder than normal tone of voice.

Dean's eyes widened slightly at the drama unfolding in front of him. Based on the way Tom's eyebrows had risen, he could tell the seraphim had committed some kind of faux paus. To her credit, Kaylee's expression didn't change at all. Whatever fuck-up her suitor had committed, she hadn't been completely blindsided by it.

"I did not mean to offend you," Ariel said as something akin to an apology.

"I believe you," Dylaniel replied flatly. "Continue."

Dean tried to casual cover his mouth to conceal the tiny smile that helplessly grew on his face after watching Dylaniel's non-forgiveness.

"Your—" Ariel began speaking to Dylaniel, who he had turned to face, but realized that it was really Kaylee that he was attempting to woo. He turned to face her again and stood a little straighter in an attempt to regain his full composure. "The nephilim will likely play a vital part in the future of both this conflict and afterward."

Dean had no idea what they were actually talking about, but to his ears that answer sounded like canned bullshit. Mercifully, Kaylee held up a hand to reassure Ariel that he didn't have to continue struggling to come up with more positive statements that he probably didn't fully believe. It wasn't exactly that he seemed to be lying. It was more like he was so bad at lying that he couldn't figure out how to finesse an unpleasant topic.

"Tell me about your thoughts on demons." Kaylee probed deeper with barely any mercy. When Ariel hesitated, she told him, "Don't worry about being tactful. I want to know how you really feel. A miscommunication would be more harmful to you than a sincere disagreement."

The casual threat embedded in her reassurance made Dean think of a Crossroad demon. Clearly, she did have a background in politics.

"I understand why they are an important resource... but I do not think that they are trustworthy," he confessed.

"Why do you think that?"

"Because they are corrupted." His tone made it clear that he thought his point was obvious. "It's in their very nature."

"Have you ever had a conversation with a demon?"

"No."

"What are you doing right now?" she asked pointedly, creating a painful silence that stretched between them.

"Ma'am, you…." Ariel shifted again. "You're the First Light of Heaven."

Kaylee stood up and removed her long leather jacket. Tom hurried to collect it from her. As he carried it with him back to the sidelines, he flashed a knowing grin at Dean. Kaylee took a few steps forward, stretching her shoulders slightly. As she flexed, Dean could see that most of the back of her t-shirt had been cut out, only leaving the collar and the bottom hem to hold its form.

After a moment of concentration, a pair of long, slender wings extending from her back faded into view. The wingspan was easily twenty-five feet, filling the entire width of the room. The wings appeared to be made of light that shimmered just enough to allude to individual feathers. Dean could barely look at her because the wings were so bright, and noticed that Tom was also averting his gaze. Dylaniel seemed relatively disinterested, but Ariel stood in a state of awe.

"I may be the First Light, but this is not all that I am." The light faded, allowing Dean to look back at her. Her wings had lost their luminosity, taking on an almost black color that matched her demonic eyes. She had black, sturdy but sharp claws. Five-inch long black horns grew out from her forehead and curled backward parallel to her scalp. Her earlobes extended an inch further back than normal and almost resembled stubby bat wings. A pattern of fine lines that glowed like embers spread across her forehead and up her horns.

Dean tried not to let his mouth fall open in shock. Ruby and Castiel had mentioned that she might be able to make her eyes turn black and maybe something else, but that was a lot more than eyes. That was one of the least human forms he'd seen outside of Hell.

"Ariel, does this bother you?" When she spoke three pairs of fangs were visible in her upper set of teeth alone.

"I... I do not know." His voice wavered slightly.

"I appreciate your honesty." Her wings rocked gently, unable to flap or fully retract in the eight-foot-tall room. "Any child we have would be part demon. You would have no power over Hell; only Abyssal can sit on the throne. Knowing this, would you like to retract your offer? You won't suffer any negative consequences if you do so."

"No. I do not wish to retract my offer."

Kaylee nodded, then stared at him thoughtfully for a few seconds. In an instant she had reverted back to her normal appearance.

"I need some more information before I decide. If you want to continue being considered, you will need to do at least two things for me: first, you will go to Hell, entering through the Black Gate. You will be unarmed and without any form of armor. From there I want you to travel to the Citadel. You won't be able to fly, so at an average pace it should take you four days to reach the Citadel. If you exercise diplomacy and good judgment, you could reach the Citadel in just over one day. If you exercise poor judgment, you'll never reach the Citadel. Once there, you will find Crowley and he will take you to the throne room before returning you to Earth.

"If you return, you will have the option of completing my second requirement. You would report to Dylaniel and serve directly under him." She looked to Dylaniel. "If Ariel reports to you for service, I want you to assemble a fully integrated squad and run operations in the Badlands for at least three months. At the end of your operations, I want your full assessment of him."

The mention of spending three months in the Badlands made Ariel lips part subtly for a moment before recovering. Dylaniel nodded with some combination of experienced indifference to the assignment and lack of surprise at Kaylee's judgment. Tom glanced over at Dean with a little smirk.

"I understand. Thank you. I will appoint a replacement and begin immediately," Ariel agreed.

"You're dismissed."

With another bow, the seraphim excused himself.


Kaylee walked over to Tom, who tossed her back the leather jacket. Dean stared at her, thoroughly disoriented by everything that had just happened. He was still trying to figure out how the whole wings thing worked. She slipped on the jacket, then looked between Tom and Dylaniel.

"Tommy, Dyl, what do you two think?" she asked while Dylaniel approached the table.

"He's a little uptight, but he's an angel—no offense," Tom apologized to Dylaniel.

"None taken," Dylaniel replied. "He might just be unfamiliar with non-angel social customs. He's only been on Earth for a few years. We'll see—if he survives Hell."

"You're running him by the throne?" Tom gave Kaylee a nod of approval. "That'll be interesting."

"Yeah, let's see if he feels the need to try it out." She shrugged while adjusting her jacket.

"Won't he die if he sits on it?" Dean asked a little surprised by their causal tone.

"He'll never rule. I told him that and if he's still thinking about making a power play for Hell, I can't have him around."

Dean wasn't thrilled by the idea of Ariel's life being endangered. The guy didn't seem like an ass, per se. Though he supposed that Kaylee did need to be conscious of usurpers.

"I'm less concerned about him making it out of Hell. I think it's whether Dyl gives him a thumbs up that's his real trial." Tom patted Dylaniel's shoulder.

"That nephilim flub was rough," Kaylee said while cringing at the memory.

"What's a nephilim?" Dean asked.

"Nephilim are the offspring of a human and an angel," Dylaniel explained. "We are abominations under the law of Heaven. It is a mortal sin for an angel to mate with a human. The parents and children are to be killed on sight by servants of Heaven."

"You're half-human?"

Tom and Kaylee exchanged a quick sidelong glance with each other, then watched Dylaniel.

"Yes."

It had taken a second for him to really appreciate that Dylaniel was only half angel. Based on his reserved demeanor and name, he'd just assumed the kid was an angel—though Kaylee had also provided the human name Dylan when initially introducing him. In hindsight, Kaylee and Tom had only ever referred to him by the dual abbreviation of Dyl while in private. Also, no one had ever actually told him that Dylaniel was an angel and he didn't talk about Heaven or God in the same way as the angels.

It shouldn't have surprised him that angels could have kids with humans; they'd just been discussing an angel having a kid with a human-demon hybrid. If that was on the table with the whole demon thing, then it'd make some sort of sense that it'd work without the demonic bad-mojo in the mix.

"I don't get it. If you're looking for a trustworthy angel guy, why don't you and Dyl have kids?" Dean asked.

Kaylee raised her hands and stepped backward as if to say that she wasn't touching the topic.

"Because we're cousins," Dylaniel answered for her.

Kaylee and Tom watched with morbid amusement as Dean worked through the meaning of the answer. They had parents who were siblings and demons didn't have siblings as far as Dean knew….

"Y-you're my son?" Dean's voice was so quiet that he wondered whether he had even made sound.

"Timeline differences aside, yes." Dylaniel's neutral expression barely changed while giving the earth shattering news.

Dean rested his face in his hands. This was too much information for him. He felt like all the air had been sucked from the room and replaced with questions. Looking up at Dylaniel again, he could see a slight resemblance. The boy looked like him except for a little difference in the hair and, obviously, the eyes.

"And you're half angel?"

"Yes."

Dean nodded slowly as he processed the information. There was an angel out there that he'd ended up having sex with—maybe she was alive still? Maybe he'd meet her? What if he already had? He was getting too caught up in guessing.

"Who's your mom?" Dean asked, pulse rising.

"Angels don't have genders. I don't have a mom; I have a xe," Dylaniel replied, but it only confused Dean more.

"A what?"

"'Xe' is a gender-neutral pronoun," Tom explained. "The nephilim adopted it to mean their angelic parent regardless of their vessel's sex."

"Ok…." Dean was struggling to process the whole him-having-a-kid thing. Grammar lessons took a back burner. "Who's your xe?"

"Castiel."


8/17/2010

Cas plunged his blade into the last angel's chest, then pulled it back out as the body flickered and fell to the ground. He looked around the room to see Dean wiping the blood off his adopted angel blade onto his jacket sleeve. Cas wordlessly walked over to inspect Dean for injuries and healed the few cuts he found.

"Your tie's shredded," Dean managed between winded breaths.

Cas looked down to see that his dark blue tie had been cut diagonally over almost the full length of its front. He held up the pieces and scowled subtly.

"Are you going to fix it?" Dean asked while bolstering his weapon.

"I'm not injured." Cas slowly loosened the tie and took it off. He dropped it in a move that made them both strangely uncomfortable. "It's unnecessary…. Repairing it would be a waste of my energy."

Despite the moderate ease with which Cas had discarded the tie, over the next two days Dean began to suspect that Cas was actually saddened by the loss. The angel would never consciously acknowledge it, but he seemed to have gained some of the sentimentality that supposedly came hard for species. But Dean saw him, several times a day reflexively reach to adjust his tie, remember that it was no longer there, then pause thoughtfully. At first it was interesting to watch, but quickly the spectacle of an angel possibly feeling remorse over clothing accessories was replaced by the desire to cheer up a friend.

"Happy birthday," Dean said as he walked into the motel room and tossed a small box to Cas.

"I don't have a birthday." Cas looked at Dean, a little confused, but began unwrapping the box.

"You do now." Dean sat down on one of the queen beds and watched Cas open his gift. "August 20th, mark your calendar."

Cas removed the box lid to find three new ties in varying shades of blue. "Thank you, Dean." He held them up to examine their different textures. "You didn't need to buy three. It is customary to only wear one at a time."

"Yeah, but you can switch between them depending on your mood," Dean explained. Cas was still learning about aesthetic preferences and simple pleasures, so he decided to walk him through the decision making process. "Which one do you like the most?"

"They're all very nice. Which one do you prefer?"

"That's not really what I was getting at, Cas. I'm try to help you make that decision."

Cas nodded in understanding of Dean's intent, then gave the issue a little more thought. "Tell me which one you'd pick and why you'd select it."

Dean sighed a little to himself, but walked over to the table. He thumbed through the options then picked up the lightest blue tie, and held it out to Cas.

"This one." Dean spoke with a determination that made Cas nod in recognition.

"And why?"

"Because it matches your eyes." Dean felt a bit self-conscious and added, "It's a general rule of clothing: when in doubt wear something that matches your eyes."

Cas looked at the tie that dangled from Dean's hand, then frowned slightly. "I don't know how to knot a tie."

Dean chuckled because, of course, the original tie came pre-tied with the body and the angel seemed to never remove his clothes.

"I'll help you with these, but you're gonna have to learn this skill at some point…. I mean, you might not 'have to' but it's helpful for faking a Fed."

Dean pulled up a chair in front of Cas. He lifted the angel's collar, wrapped the tie around his neck, and began tying the knot. A relaxed smile formed on Dean's face. It had been a few weeks since they had had a nice lull in their hunting and it felt good to do something so simple. The first attempt resulted in a tie that was too short, so Dean remeasured it against Cas's torso.

"You should wear green more often. Or do you not doubt what to wear?" Cas asked in what Dean assumed was a valiant attempt at small talk.

Dean grinned while looping one end around the other. "I know I look like I got dressed in the dark most days, but when I want to look good I can."

He gripped the forming knot, and pulled it into a tight Half Windsor. Dean took a little pride in his work by adjusting it to place a dimple just below the knot.

"I don't understand," Cas replied. "You always look good."

Dean flustered a bit while patting the tie flat against Cas's chest, then scooted his chair back a few feet. He could feel his ears turn pink and his smile flickered nervously. Dean reminded himself that Cas was still learning how to compliment people, so the subtleties of that statement were almost certainly lost on the angel.

"Thanks, Cas. I'm gonna get ready for bed. Think you can handle the other two?"

"I should be fine."

Dean patted Cas on the shoulder and went into the motel bathroom. Closing the door behind him, he braced himself against the sink basin, and sighed. Cas was a good guy, but he had a way of sending some very strange signals.


8/14/2010

A week earlier they had stopped at a diner for lunch. Dean had ordered his usual bacon cheeseburger with fries and a chocolate malt while Cas socially ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and water. Dean had the first sip of his malt, then sank back in the booth. After proclaiming that he'd just had the greatest chocolate malt in existence, Cas reached across the table, picked up the glass, and tried a sip using Dean's straw.

Dean was a little too shocked to say anything at first, but he wasn't about to abandon the remainder of the malt just because Cas had committed a faux pas. When they got back into the Impala, he decided to say something.

"Cas, I'm telling you this because you're trying to fit in better, so don't take this the wrong way: you shouldn't have just tried my shake." He tried to keep his tone of voice as non-critical as possible, though he wasn't entirely sure if Cas could even perceive that sort of distinction.

"Was it something specific to the food type or a rule in general?" Cas asked, eager to learn from his apparent mistake. "I've seen several instances of humans eating each other's food."

"It's like a combination of the food and the symbolism of eating another person's food…." The body language had been obvious to Dean, but when pressed to articulate it he was having trouble quantifying it. "I mean, you only eat off each other's plates if you're family or best friends."

"You're my best friend," Cas replied in a tone that Dean could tell was almost concern.

He mentally kicked himself for carelessly choosing words that Cas could interpret as meaning that they weren't good friends. The angel's literalness sometimes led to a gullible insecurity that Dean needed to protect him from.

"That's true, but even best friends ask for permission before just grabbing each other's food," Dean explained.

"But people don't always ask permission." Cas had seen it at least ten times in six states over the last eight months of hunting with Dean.

"Usually grabbing food without asking first is something people in relationships do." Dean realized that Cas wouldn't understand what he meant by 'relationships.' "Like romantic relationships."

Cas thought quietly in shotgun for what seemed like a whole minute. Dean debated asking if Cas was alright, but he eventually nodded in understanding.

"I misrepresented the boundaries of our relationship, and you were embarrassed," Cas said.

Dean wanted to correct Cas by saying that he'd misrepresented their 'friendship' or 'partnership,' but that would just prolong the already awkward conversation. For a second Dean thought that Cas seemed dejected, but the feeling was fleeting.


11/02/2010

Cas heard Dean's mumbled prayer from several blocks away and teleported to him immediately. Dean was slumped over in an alley, but to Cas's relief he was not injured. He was drunk, more than Cas had ever seen from him before. The small pool of vomit below Dean confirmed that an evening of fun had gone too far.

Carefully, Cas helped Dean upright. Draping one of Dean's arms around his neck, Cas tried to help him walk, but Dean's feet missed their marks badly. After realizing just how intoxicated Dean had managed to become, Cas instead opted to simply carry him. Cas scooped Dean up and was met with only token resistance.

Once Cas had carried Dean back to the motel room, he laid his charge down on the bed. Cas removed Dean's boots and jacket, then made for the belt. He knew that belts were located ominously close to genitalia, so he proceeded with caution. Dean briefly attempted to either aid or stop Cas, but the intent was unclear.

As he turned to go, Dean hooked Cas's right thigh with his arms. Cas looked back down at his pitiful friend. Dean's eyes were barely open and he didn't seem fully capable of lifting his head enough to look Cas in the face.

"Don't go," Dean almost whispered. His free hand reached up to grab at Cas's trench coat, but ended up just awkwardly dragging down Cas's side. When Cas reclined on the bed, with his head propped up against the headboard, Dean buried his face into the tan trench coat. He patted Cas's chest a few times, then told him, "Don't leave me…. I don't wanna be alone."

Cas placed a hand on Dean's back in a weak attempt at providing comfort. After some contemplation, Cas realized that it was November 2nd, the anniversary of Dean's mom's death. They had known each other for less than a year, but in the months they'd spent on the road Cas felt he had gained a significant understand of his companion. As much as Dean seemed committed to the life of a hunter, it was not his choice. It was ingrained in him from a young age as a result of his mother's death. Cas supposed there was a lot for Dean to mourn every anniversary.


The next morning, Dean woke up with almost no hangover, but that wasn't what he noticed first. He had somehow managed to end up half-snuggling with—or at least against—Cas. Dean's head was pillowed on Cas's abdomen and lower chest. His right arm wrapped around the angel's torso and his right leg crossed over and intertwined with Cas's. Cas's arm softly held Dean's back, acting as support.

Dean looked up at Cas, who was just sitting there quietly waiting for Dean to wake up. Their eyes met, about a foot apart, and Dean suddenly was the one who hadn't understood personal space. He blushed below his freckled cheeks when Cas smiled at him, then hastily untangled their limbs. Dean scooted backwards off the bed, making some vague statement he couldn't be bothered to think through, about needing the bathroom before slipping away.

Once in the bathroom, Dean started to process the situation. He'd gone out drinking the night before because he was sad and lonely. His plan to find a woman to hook-up with had failed; not for lack of interested woman. Two had given him the nod. But when it came time to jump, he just wasn't feeling it. In his confusion and frustration, he'd drank more than he should've.

Cas had found him and brought him back to the motel. He had asked Cas to stay because he needed someone, but not in a fleeting physical way like he would've had with one of the women. The thing he'd needed was a source of emotional support.

That realization hit Dean a little harder than he would've thought possible, but there were two other discoveries that were equally troubling: he hadn't woken up in a cold sweat or crying. It was probably only the third time in almost two years that he hadn't dreamt of Hell. Maybe it was his intensely drunken state or maybe he just felt safer not sleeping alone.

The other realization was that he was partially hard. He normally didn't mind morning wood, except when it was potentially sending mixed signals to his friends. Dean touched his jeans to try to figure out if the bulge had been visible to Cas. He had intended to only readjust his pants and wait for it to go away, but when he touched his dick to move it he reconsidered. It'd been weeks—probably a month—since he'd masterbated, and Cas knew that the bathroom was off-limits while the door was shut.

Dean started a warm shower and climbed in. He started thinking about the blonde he'd met at the bar—Mindy, he was pretty certain. She'd been wearing a tight pink dress that barely held in her breasts. Visualizing her was okay. She was attractive, but it wasn't really doing it for him. He was older, more mature, and apparently the idea of casual sex had lost some of its appeal. He wanted more than just some brief physical connection. He wanted a real relationship. Last night, his instincts had turned him away from the one night stand and Cas had taken care of him. Cas had brought him back to the motel, cleaned him up, and stayed with him through the night. Cas had patiently lay there while he had grabbed at him and embraced him. Cas had—

Dean's eyes rolled back and his thoughts went foggy with bliss for a few seconds. He felt a moment of complete relaxation, then the panic began to creep into his mind. He'd just jerked off to Cas without even really working at it. Since Hell, masterbating had become an exercise in healthy living that he really had to put effort into, not the fun release it used to be. Many of life's little pleasures had lost their thrill since Hell, and he'd assumed that that was how it'd always be going forward, but it turned out he was wrong….

But Cas was a guy—sort of. He'd known attractive guys before, even enjoyed looking at them occasionally, though definitely not as much as he enjoyed looking at women. Yet he'd never jerked off to one before. He felt a knot form in his stomach. It wasn't just the fact that he'd touched himself while thinking about a guy. It was that it came so easily. If he was honest with himself, at that point Cas was probably the best thing in his life.

Dean rested his forehead against the shower wall. He tried to think about something else: their current job; whether they could fit in another hunt before heading back to camp for Kaylee's first birthday; anything. But he couldn't focus on the distractions. There was one crack too many and the levee was starting to crumble. His shoulders slumped as he started shaking in spite of the warm shower. Tears began running down his face.

He was confused and ashamed. Somehow he'd gone from being one of the toughest hunters around to crying in the shower over a guy. He had thought about a man and that was wrong—for him. As far as he was concerned, if other people were gay that was their business, but he couldn't be having those feelings. He wasn't supposed to be like that. He was supposed to love hunting, muscle cars, hard alcohol, rock and roll, a good fight, bad beer, and easy women. He was a man's man—Dean hit his head lightly against the tile wall.

Taking a mental step back, it wasn't that he was super attracted to Cas physically. It was more the relationship that they shared that Dean appreciated. He'd had friends before. Not many, but when your life was as intense as a hunter's, strong bonds could form quickly. But none of his friends had ever been like Cas. All of his friends were good for a few fun days or a week tops before he needed some space. Yet Dean had been more or less on the road with Cas for ten months, and he hadn't gotten tired of him.

The angel was a little strange at times, but he had a sincerity that Dean cherished and it seemed like he always had some new facet to reveal. Initially, Cas's skill at making small talk had been horrible, but eventually Dean had realized that he was perfectly willing and able to engage in lengthy substantive conversations just fine. Maybe the idea of talking about anything and everything with someone should've scared him, but it was strangely freeing and thrilling. For the last few weeks he'd even thought about telling Cas what he remembered from Hell. He'd been scared to be that vulnerable with Sam, Bobby—even Ruby, who might be able to relate, but Cas was different. Cas was different than everyone. Dean clenched his eyes and cursed.


After getting out of the shower, Dean popped his head out from behind the bathroom door and asked Cas to run a few errands. He made some excuse about wanting to take a slower morning after the long night. Cas didn't question it, and left to fill up the Impala, grab Dean some breakfast, get directions to their next stop, and more.

As soon as Cas was gone, Dean walked out of the bathroom dressed from the waist down. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he grabbed his cell and called Sam.

After a few rings Sam picked up. His voice was groggy, but attentive. "Dean, everything okay?"

"Yeah, Cas and I are fine," he assured his brother. "Do you have a minute to talk?"

"Um... Sure." Dean could hear a rustling noise and Ruby's voice in the background.

"If this is a bad time…." Dean began to take the opportunity to retreat from the conversation. He rolled his eyes in frustration at his own cowardice.

"No, it's fine. I was going to get up in a few minutes anyway." Dean felt like an ass for calling at what was 6:20am where Sam was, but his time away from Cas was limited. "What's up?"

"Well, you know how Cas asks a ton of questions? He asked me what it's like to be in love." Sam's end was silent, so Dean hastily continued, "I don't really know what to say. I had that thing with Cassie a few years back, but that was only a few weeks—how am I supposed to know if that was love?"

"Wow. Uh…." Sam sighed, then said, "This is kinda heavy talk for before I've had any coffee."

"Sorry man. This was dumb." He could feel himself blushing. "I shouldn't—"

"No, no. I don't mind. Just give me a second." Dean could hear Sam shut a door, then walk around. Sammy was probably trying to find some privacy too. "I'm probably going to give you a bad answer. I haven't really thought about this stuff much."

"What's there to think about? It's feelings—just describe." Dean quickly added, "You're in love with Ruby, right? Or am I completely embarrassing us both?"

"I think it's safe to say we're both embarrassed," Sam replied, a little amusement audible in his voice. "But, yeah, I think I'm in love with Ruby."

"You think?" Dean asked in alarm.

Sam's uncertainty was unnerving, both because he wasn't sure how good Sam's intel would be and also because it might mean that you could be in love and not even know it.

"What do you want from me? It's not like this stuff comes with a manual," Sam muttered. "Ruby and I... haven't actually said the words—but, I mean, things are pretty great, and I'm happy, so whatever."

Dean chewed his lip for a moment. "But when did you know that there was something more to your relationship?"

"Well, I realized I had a thing for her after a few months, but I didn't want to do anything about it."

"Scared it might mess up your friendship?" Dean asked, then mentally kicked himself for being too obvious.

"Yeah." Sam yawned. "And I was scared she might break all my limbs on the way out. Anyway, a month or two later things just got physical one night. Then she suggested we do friends-with-benefits."

Dean held his cell phone away from his head for a second and groaned while rolling his eyes. Of course his little brother would stumble into that kind of luck. "Seriously? You had commitmentless sex with a babe thrown at you?"

Sam chuckled, then replied, "Yeah, well it turned out to be more commitment than expected."

"Kaylee?"

"Actually, no. I started to fall for her before we found out she was pregnant," Sam explained as Dean peeked out the blinds to confirm that the Impala was still gone. "It's like that metaphor about turning the heat up on the pot of water with the frog. It just sort of sneaks up on you. The littlest things that she did made me feel better. It felt natural and infinite—like I could spend all my time with her no matter what we were doing because she's…. It's like I felt like I had a home, and it was wherever she was…. I didn't really get that until recently."

Dean nodded even though no one could see him. Sam hadn't ever really experienced the security and comfort of having a real home. From six months old until he went to college, he'd only ever known motel rooms and occasional sleepovers at hunters' houses. Dean imagined that dorm life had provided some stability, but how much could you really feel connected to a place that was meant to be transitional?

"I'm glad you found that," Dean told him.

"Thanks," Sam said. Dean could hear some action in the background, then Sam sighed. "I love them, but I wish I could have one fucking day where I sleep in until ten."

"Sorry about calling so early."

"Like I said, it's fine. I hope that helps with Cas."

"Yeah, I think I get it." Dean rubbed the stubble on his cheek. "As thanks, I'll watch Tom and Kaylee when I get back. You can finally sleep in."

Sam immediately replied, "I don't care if that town is overrun with vampires or zombies or werewolves—you're going to drop everything and drive non-stop until you get here."

Dean laughed. "We'll see you in a few weeks."

"Coward."