Chapter 59.

Cas tried hard to be as interested in The Dukes of Hazzard as Dean was, but it wasn't easy. For one thing, he could not understand the appeal of the car chases, which were repetitive and, for one who had seen Dean drive, unimpressive. He was unsure about voicing that complaint, but when he said, "With Dean driving, they would have lost the sheriff in half the time." Dean had rewarded him with a grin.

Repeatedly, Dean tried to engage his interest in the lubricious charms of Daisy Duke and he tried to play along. All humans were beautiful, he knew and all lithe, limber ladies sent certain signals to his vessel that he could not entirely ignore, but pretty though she was and however dazzling her smile or short her shorts, she was not Jules.

Jules herself thought she was average in appearance and below average in in attracting men. She laughed when he called her beautiful and blushed when he called her hot, but Daisy Duke's slight frame and by-the-numbers charms held none of the appeal of her strong, scarred arms or feeling her warm body pressed against his in the middle of the night.

Nevertheless, he nodded and smiled and agreed with everything Dean said about his childhood crush. The smiles were not for the Boar's Nest waitress, but for Dean, who looked and talked like himself and who didn't flinch when Cas moved a hand near him and didn't search his eyes for sly looks or his words for hidden traps.

At any time, that Dean might vanish and be replaced by the Michael-damaged paranoid, but there was nothing of Michael in him now and Cas was determined to enjoy the respite, however long or short its duration.

He saw the same thought in Sam's eyes, the same fear that it would end, same hope that it was a sign that Dean was winning the fight. He also noticed how often Sam's eyes turned to him and each time, he would smile his reassurance that there was no need to worry about him.

There was something heartening about the fact that the look of compassion and concern never disappeared. Sam knew he wanted him to avoid unnecessary worry over him, but Sam didn't care about that. However difficult things might become with Dean, however much time and energy he might have to devote to his actual, biological brother, he would never consider abandoning the adopted celestial to his fate.

The furrowed brow, the weary eyes, would have conveyed nothing to Castiel in the early days of their acquaintance. He would have taken Sam's pretence of unlimited strength at face value. Now, he was not fooled. He was well aware of how thinly Sam had been spreading his strength in recent years and how little of it he had to spare. Still, he would never let either of them down. He would sacrifice life, health or happiness to take care of them both.

He had been warned by his fellow angels not to get too close to humanity. It was dangerous. Humans evoked and provoked the worst emotions and stirred confusion and doubt with their untempered philosophies and foolish questions. Interaction with them could be exciting or infuriating, but it could never be called safe.

Not one of those angels had ever walked into the bunker's kitchen to find coffee brewing and a note from Sam or Dean, telling him there were doughnuts saved for him. They had never found Dean changing their car's oil or found a pile of books on their bed because Sam thought they might find them interesting. They had never watched 80s TV with human friends and seen their sincere desire for him to love it as they did.

Not that he did or could. It had not been the comfort of his childhood. The shapely legs of that young woman had not become engraved on his mind as he struggled with puberty in a succession of motel rooms with neither privacy nor comradeship.

For Dean, it was more than a TV show. Cas loved it only because it mattered to Sam and Dean. For now, it kept Dean's mind distracted from his recent suffering and he had to love anything that could do that.

Sam only half watched it, but it comforted him too. The parents of nuclear families, safe in their shelters, might sniff at the poor babysitter that was the television, but for some kids, TV was all there was. When John had not been around and Dean had been trying to be both parents to his little brother, his one escape had been whatever TV he could get in whatever motel room was their temporary home.

It was during the car chases that he saw the boys they had been. He was a little amused to see how they were captivated by the excitement that fell so short of their daily lives staring at the General Lee in a way that would have made Dean's Baby jealous, reliving the few innocent joys of a childhood that had been brief and mostly empty. At such times, he found his joy in theirs, happy to see them happy, however fleeting the moment might be.

Between one episode and the next, Dean pressed pause and turned to look at him. He tried not to look nervous, knowing that Dean might have begun to suspect or resent him again, but also aware that, if he hadn't, one uneasy look could start him feeling that way. To his great relief, there was nothing hostile in his friend's eyes.

"So, Cas," he said, "What's the plan for tonight?"

"Tonight?" said Cas.

"With Jules. I mean, she's not out hunting tonight, is she?"

"So far, she has no plans to hunt." said Cas. He was hoping for something amorous to happen, but to plan for it seemed presumptuous.

"And you have no plans of any kind?" said Dean.

"No specific plans." said Cas.

Sam carefully intervened again. "He has to move at his own pace." he said.

"Of course." said Dean. His eyes were apologetic. "Flowers always help, though."

"That's probably a good idea." said Cas. Dean was battling two very different urges, the one that made him want to interfere, because he believed Cas needed his guidance, because he doubted his ability to move forward in the relationship without it and the one that told him to get angry and say cruel things. He was currently resisting both and forcing himself to speak with patience and respect. Cas wished he could express his gratitude without showing that he had seen the battle.