That weekend, Dean spent almost every minute with Castiel. The bman rarely spoke, and when he did, he still only parroted something Dean had said. But he seemed to have an amazing memory, pulling up words Dean had said and stringing them together into sentences that were mostly coherent and got across what he wanted to say.

Dean had introduced Castiel to beer. At first, Castiel hadn't seemed overly impressed. But he'd kept sipping at his bottle, and before long, he was taking long drinks. Now the two of them were sitting at the table in the cheap motel room, playing cards and drinking while Dean chatted away. Dean had decided to move into adult games and had taught Castiel canasta. Showing Castiel how to keep score hadn't worked out so well. Castiel didn't seem to be able to grasp numbers that Dean couldn't show him with cards. In the end, Dean gave it up as a lost cause and kept score himself. Castiel didn't seem to mind. He quietly played, saying little. Mostly, Castiel just listened. And that, Dean quickly discovered, was exactly what he needed.

Before long, Dean was telling his new friend his entire life story. "I dropped out of school my final semester, right before I would have gotten my MBA," he explained after teaching Castiel canasta. "Sammy was valedictorian of his class, that overachieving bitch. But by the time he came along, I'd made sure that he had people watching out for him. He never went through what I did." Dean rubbed at the back of his neck, frowning at his memories. "You know that weird kid that everyone picks on? Yeah, that was me. I never fit in anywhere. From just out of grammar school on through almost to my junior year, I was the guy the jocks threw into the pool or locked in my locker. They used to knock the books out of my hands, trip me in the halls, shove me into the girls' bathroom, give me swirlies, you know, where they hold you upside down and dunk your head into a toilet and flush it? Yeah, that was popular. And about once a month or so, they'd beat the hell out of me. Near as I could tell, I never did anything to provoke it. I'd be minding my own business, and I'd pass a group of them, and they'd start following me. At first, I tried to run, but they were jocks, after all, so they always caught me. Then they claimed I was getting it worse because I ran. Nice, huh? Especially when, the one time I didn't run, it was just as bad or worse. Only difference was, since I didn't run, they spread the word that I liked it."

Castiel was frowning as he watched Dean.

"Problem was, when I got into trouble at school, I got into more trouble at home. Dad wasn't abusive or anything, but he was damned quick with that belt of his. And Mom was all about lecturing me. So I'd end up soaking wet or late and get in trouble, then I'd come home and have a lecture and a belting waiting for me. Life was grand."

"Anyway, the bullies backed off of me about the time I became a junior. Then my problem was that a lot of the girls that they'd dated all this time suddenly noticed me. I guess that was when I filled out a bit, and the girls decided I was cute. So then I got beat up a few times because some girl was chasing after me, but it wasn't anything like it was. The girls kind of got together and started protecting me."

That made Castiel smile.

"It also helped that I was willing to tutor them," Dean added. "First it was just girls, then some of those same jocks who used to pound on me came for help so they could keep playing. So by the time I entered my senior year, no one messed with me anymore, and I was able to make sure things were ok for Sammy. In fact, I started getting in trouble because I was hanging out with the wrong crowd. Mom and Dad hated most of my friends. Even though I was six feet tall before I graduated high school, Dad still took his belt to me, especially when I made the mistake of coming home drunk one night. But I straightened out after that, didn't go to the parties, and kept my nose clean."

Dean laid out his cards and finished his turn. "When I went to college, I was worried the whole thing would start again, you know, the bullying? But I actually fit in there. I did really well, Castiel. The whole way through, I was on dean's list. I was at the top of my class when I dropped out. Now, you're probably thinking, 'Dean, if you were doing so well, why'd you drop out?' Well, Castiel, it was simple, and the oldest reason in the book. To put it simply, I did it for a woman." Dean shook his head. "Lisa was her name. She was a model, had a little portfolio and everything, but she'd never really made it big. Then one day, she came pounding on my door with a contract from this big agency here in New York. And just like that, I dropped out of school and packed my bags."

"As you can probably imagine, my parents were pretty devastated. Mom cried and said I couldn't trust Lisa, that she'd use and abuse me and then break my heart. And my dad?" Dean chuckled. "Well, my dad did not take it well at all. I was twenty-three by then, and I didn't believe he'd take his belt to me again, but he did. Didn't know the old geezer had it in him. He pushed me down on my bed, held me with a knee in my back, and beat my ass. Then, I believe his exact words were, 'Dean, if you do something this stupid, if you walk away from everything you've accomplished to run clear across the country with your bimbo girlfriend, then don't come back when it doesn't work out because you will not be welcome.' Harsh, huh?"

"Harsh," Castiel agreed. His blue eyes were solemn as they moved between Dean's face and the cards.

"But you know, even that didn't get through to me," Dean continued. "Cass, I was so much in love. And we had so many plans! Get this, buddy. She needed to move out here to be closer to her agency. But we could only scrape together enough money for one plane ticket. So she took the plane. A few days before she left, while she went to about a half dozen goodbye parties with all her friends while I dropped out of school, packed both of our bags, and drove clear across the country to meet her at the airport when she landed. Then I drove us both to this tiny efficiency apartment, the one I was living in when you saved me, actually. I never did move out of it. At the time, it was all we could afford, but we never thought we'd stay more than a few months, a year tops."

"The plan was that I'd go to work and support us both until she got established. Then she'd support me while I finished school and got a job in a big financial corporation. She was going to be famous, seen on walkways all over the world, grace the cover of every magazine, and be hounded by paparazzi. Meanwhile, I was going to work my way up to a six figure salary and a corner office. Castiel, we had it all figured out, right? We'd get married, have 2.5 beautiful kids, a dog, and a big house with shining hardwood floors in an exclusive gated community. I'd be a hotshot executive, and she'd be my model wife."

Dean grew silent for a moment, focusing on his turn and taking another drink from his bottle. His eyes seemed distant, lost in his memories. Castiel grew still, watching him until Dean finally looked up. "In case you have not figured it out, none of our plans worked out the way we'd thought. Ironically, the only one of our grand dreams that actually came true was that Lisa really did do well for herself as a model. She's no Christy Brinkley, but she makes more money than I'll ever see and she travels all over the world. Problem was, she did it all without me!" He shook his head. "I worked two jobs to support us, Cass, because I believed in us, believed in our dream. I paid all our bills, my student loans, kept a roof over our heads and food on the table while I gave her anything she wanted. And then one day I came home from my second job, exhausted from waiting tables and tending bar, and found she'd gone. She'd taken all her belongings and the better half of mine, and left me nothing but a "Dear John" letter on the table and Bessie, the cheap Wal-Mart guitar she got me for my birthday. And you know, Cass, this is how stupid I was," Dean continued, growing agitated. "Until then, I had no idea she'd been cheating on me, no idea that anything was wrong. All this time, I'd been blindly working two jobs, bringing home everything I could to support the two of us, and sacrificed everything to help her with her career. Cass, I used to skip meals and work long stretches of overtime so she could go to the gym and get her hair and nails done. I even sold the car I drove out here and downgraded to that clunker that got destroyed when we met so she could buy expensive dresses. And the whole time, she'd been cheating on me with her manager." He shook his head and chuckled dryly. "But joke's on him, I guess, because now she's left him for another manager. He was the same thing I was, just another step in her ladder."

Dean shrugged. "So that's where I am now. She's gone, I'm alone, and I traded one job for this current one and got inexplicably fired from the other. And you know, looking back, I got fired from that other job just about the time that my current boss started asking me for..." He hesitated. "She has me do a lot of extra things for her. And she started asking me for it just before I got fired from my bartending job. And the guy who owns that bar is a client of my company. You know, it would not surprise me one bit to find out Bela had something to do with it. It's right up her alley. She's my supervisor, and if this job was my only source of income, well, that would give her a hell of a lot more control over me, wouldn't it? And if there's one thing that bitch loves to do, it's control me!"

"Bitch," Castiel commented.

Dean smiled. "Bela or Lisa?"

"Bela bitch, Lisa bitch," Castiel declared. "Grab your shit and let's vacate the premises, ok?"

"Amen, brother!" Dean cheered, tapping his bottle to Castiel's and taking a drink. "God knows I could do without either one of those bitches in my life. But while I'm probably rid of Lisa for good, Bela's still my boss."

"Thank you very much, Bela, you bitch," Cass growled, frowning.

Dean chuckled. "You said it, buddy. You want another beer?"

Cass brightened. "The breakfast of champions, right there."

Dean laughed and went to fetch the beer. He handed one to Castiel. "These are the last two, so enjoy 'em, buddy. They may be bottom-shelf, but they may as well be champagne because they're all we can afford." He sighed. "I hate to say this, but we're probably going to have to get you a job. I saw a 'help wanted' sign at that fast food joint we hit for the breakfast burritos, and I'm betting that lady at the counter would be happy to work with you." He paused. "Maybe too happy to work with you. I guess it's crazy for me to worry about you, what with you being a male escort, but I can't help it. I don't want you to go through what I…" He stopped, seeing solemn blue eyes staring back at him. "I just don't want you to have trouble and get stuck in a bad situation."

Cass continued to watch him silently. Dean shook his head and waved a hand in the air. "Forget it, we'll find something else. Although," he realized with a grimace, "you can't read or write, you can barely speak English, and you've got no ID. I have no idea what kind of job you could get, but I'm betting it won't pay much." He straightened, suddenly serious. "But don't even think about going back to being a male escort, Castiel. I won't let you do that. I'll work three jobs if I have to, before I let that happen!"

Castiel was looking at him, but Dean pretended not to notice. Considering his past history, sexual harassment in the workplace was probably nothing to Cass. But for some reason, Dean found he wasn't able to talk about what was really happening between him and Bela with Cass. Before now, he'd never felt embarrassed about it. After Sam had suggested it and offered to be a reference, Dean was the one who'd lied on his application and gotten himself into a situation where he could be exploited in the first place. He was also the one who had agreed to a sexual relationship with Bela, knowing full well that it was wrong, illegal, and adultery against the company CEO himself. He'd kept it under wraps mostly for self-preservation. Only Sam knew, and that was only because Sam had taken Dean out for a beer and directly confronted him about it. Of course, Sam had indicated more than once that his relationship with Bela wasn't a secret among his fellow cubicle dwellers, nor was it the first time she'd done something like this. Dean wasn't ashamed, and was willing to live with and face the consequences of the choices he'd made.

But Castiel was somehow different. When Cass looked at him, Dean felt as if the handsome stranger was seeing something great, something far better than what Dean saw when he looked in the mirror. And Dean didn't want to do anything to disappoint him. God knew Castiel had already seen enough of the shit in Dean's life. Somehow, Dean felt that if Cass knew about what he was doing with his boss, it would lessen Dean in Castiel's eyes, disappoint his friend somehow. For the first time, Dean felt real shame when he thought about what he'd been doing with Bela. The demands she'd made of him that he'd acquiesced to. Dean had his limits, and Bela had run against them a time or two already. When she'd somehow found out he was bisexual, for instance, she'd wanted a threesome with a male friend of hers, and Dean had flatly refused. He'd agreed to have sex with Bela to keep his job and get good raises, but he drew the line at being pimped out to some other guy. Bela had been furious at being denied and had immediately shifted several good clients away from him as punishment, leaving him with more difficult, demanding clients. Fortunately, Dean knew he was a skillful lover. He'd always been able to divert Bela away from something that made him uncomfortable.

But nothing made him more uncomfortable than the idea Castiel would eventually learn that Dean was basically prostituting himself to keep his job. How ironic, to be worried that a male escort would be upset about something like that. Dean told himself he was a fool. But it didn't change how he felt. Dean simply could not look at Castiel and see a sex worker. What he saw was closer to an angel in human form. Dean refused to let that angel be disappointed in the way Dean had sullied himself.

Dean decided the silence in the room was deafening and got up, moving to the clock radio. He switched it on. Cass immediately perked up when he heard the music and came forward, peering over Dean at the radio. Dean chuckled and showed him how to adjust the volume and the stations. Cass played happily with the radio for a few minutes before settling on an easy listening station. It wasn't Dean's first choice of music, but Cass seemed to be enjoying it. His head was tilted to one side as he listened, those amazing blue eyes fixed on the radio, rocking slowly back and forth from one foot to the other in time with the music.

"Hey, buddy, you know how to dance?" Dean asked. "What am I saying, of course you don't. C'mere."

When Cass turned towards him, Dean guided the other man's hands to his waist, while he reached up to put his arms around Castiel's neck. "Ok, this is how you dance with someone. You hold onto each other like this. Then you move." Dean began to move in time with the music. He let go of Cass's neck and took the other man's hips, guiding Cass to dance and slowly turn.

As with everything else, Cass caught on quickly. He held Dean as the other man put his arms around his neck again, smiles breaking out on both of their faces. The two of them slow danced, pausing awkwardly when the song ended. But fortunately, the station queued up another slow song. Cass's smile returned, and he started dancing again.

"You know our love was meant to be the kind of love that lasts forever. And I want you here with me, from tonight until the end of time. You should know, everywhere I go, you're always on my mind, in my heart, in my soul."

Dean had to remind himself to breathe. Castiel's unique scent filled his nostrils, smelling of hotel soap and shampoo and ramen noodles, and beneath it the musky scent that was simply Castiel. The strong arms around him held him close. Dean leaned his head against Cass's shoulder. His heart quickened.

"You're the meaning in my life, you're the inspiration! You bring feeling to my life, you're the inspiration! I wanna have you near me, I wanna have you hear me sayin' no one needs you more than I need you."

Not even Lisa had made Dean feel like this. Dancing in Castiel's arms, Dean felt like the entire world could burn and he would barely notice. Suddenly, nothing else in his life, not his job or his boss or his miserable financial situation mattered anymore. The only thing that mattered was that the two of them were here, right now, dancing to this song that somehow put into words what Dean had been feeling since Castiel came into his life.

Dean silently cursed himself. Damn you, Dean, he thought. Here you go, losing your heart again!

"And I know, yes I know that it's plain to see we're so in love when we're together. Now I know that I need you here with me from tonight until the end of time. You should know, everywhere I go, you're always on my mind, in my heart, in my soul."

Castiel smiled at him, raising up one hand to gently stroke Dean's cheek. Dean closed his eyes and held onto the hand, leaning into the touch. He sighed and gave up the fight. It was too late. Castiel likely didn't even know what his touch did, but it didn't matter. Dean knew he was already lost.

He'd hoped that, by now, he would have learned not to fall in love. But somehow, he just couldn't help it.

It was absolutely time for a shower when the song ended. Dean stood under the cold spray and considered his options. There was no doubt in his mind that if Castiel stayed with him, Dean would eventually succumb to temptation. What would happen then? Cass had responded so well when Dean had confessed his sexuality. But did he really understand what that meant?

Then there was the simple fact that his heart kept insisting that Cass not only knew just how attracted Dean was to him, but returned his affection. Over and over his mind replayed how Cass had touched his cheek when they danced, how close the other man had held him. The way Cass's beautiful blue eyes would watch Dean. The way he smiled.

If Castiel knew, if he'd understood what Dean really felt, would he stay? Would he return Dean's feelings, progress to something more than friends? Or would he simply turn away in revulsion? What if Cass simply pushed him away, but remained close to him? Dean didn't know if that would be better or worse than being reviled. He'd had many crushes on other men in his life, but Cass was the first man he'd actually fallen in love with. Dean hadn't ever been in a relationship with another man, either. He didn't know the protocols. How, exactly, did you date another man? Did you buy him flowers? Take him to dinner and hold hands at a movie? Mostly, Dean just wanted to do exactly what they'd been doing, sitting around, drinking, playing cards, and shooting the bull until the right moment came and they simply couldn't keep their hands off of each other. What kind of lover would Castiel be? Dean would be bottom, he was sure. But if he was, if he surrendered himself like that, how would Cass handle him? Would he treat Dean gently, give him time to adjust to the new experience? Or would he be rough, those strong hands holding him down as Castiel took his pleasure from him?

Either image sent shivers down his spine.

Cold water or no, Dean discovered he had some business to attend to in the shower. "Castiel," he moaned softly as he finally climaxed. "Oh, Cass!"

If Cass had walked in right now, Dean would have found some way to commit ritual seppuku using the tiny bar of hotel soap as a weapon. But for once, his luck held. Cass had been waiting, towels and clean clothing under his arm, outside of the bathroom door when Dean emerged. But if he'd heard anything suspicious, he gave no indication.

Dean waited until he heard Cass splashing in the shower. Then he quickly moved to Cass's bed, picked up the pillow, and held it to his face. He breathed deeply, taking in every bit of Castiel's scent. This has got to be the single creepiest and most pathetic thing you have ever done, Winchester, he scolded himself. If you want a relationship with Castiel, you're going to have to tell him. But right now, the guy barely knows you! Enjoy this weekend with him, get through this next week. Then next weekend, when the two of you are alone together again, go down to Prosthetics Expo, strap on a set, and find out how he really feels about the two of you!

It was good advice. Dean replaced Castiel's pillow, carefully fluffing it back to its previous state. Then he crawled into bed. He didn't even have a headache, for a change. Being with Cass did wonders for his stress level, despite the concern over the state of their relationship. But that was what having a real, viable plan in mind did. Dean conveniently ignored the fact that his plan also allowed him to put off the possible bad ending of their friendship and snuggled into his bed. By the time Cass emerged from his shower, Dean was already asleep.

Dean awoke to the sound of someone gently strumming a guitar. He opened his eyes and saw Castiel, sitting on the other bed, Bessie in his hands. It was the first time he'd ever seen Cass looking sure of himself as the tall man's fingers moved on the frets. Dean didn't know what song he was playing, but it was beautiful. As he watched, Cass gently hummed along. But he stopped when he saw Dean's eyes on him.

"Don't stop!" Dean pleaded. "You remembered something! You can play guitar!"

Cass smiled. Then to Dean's dismay, he slipped the strap over his head and handed Bessie to Dean. "You can play guitar."

"Not as well as you," Dean said, suddenly shy.

Cass looked at him, the blue eyes offering encouragement, and Dean finally gave in, slipping the strap over his head. "I haven't played in a long time," he offered by way of apology as his fingers moved to the frets.

Dean was hesitant at first, but as his fingers went into the familiar movements, his confidence quickly returned. Avoiding Cass's eyes, he began to sing. "I close my eyes only for a moment, and the moment's gone. All my dreams pass before my eyes, a curiosity. Dust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind."

The song was one that had a special meaning to Dean at this point in his life, after all he'd lost. The key he'd chosen fit his voice well, and Cass, when Dean dared to glance at him, looked enrapt. Dean smiled, finished the song, and then simply sat, still and quiet.

Castiel was just at still, staring at Dean with wide, brimming eyes. He trembled, and the tears spilled over to run down his cheeks. Somehow, Dean's song seemed to have affected him deeply.

"Heh. You liked that, huh?" Dean called.

Cass only nodded.

It was just barely light outside. Dean looked at the clock and saw that it was only six am. He shook his head. "Way too early, buddy. What do you say we put Bessie here away for now, maybe take her out later tonight? But we both need to go to bed."

Dean carefully replaced Bessie in her case. Then he turned to his bed. But suddenly Cass's arms were around him and Dean's feet were off the floor. He squirmed. "Dammit, Cass, what did I tell you about picking me up?"

"Unless you are sure it's a good thing, do not pick me up," Castiel recited. "Sure it's a good thing. We both need to go to bed."

"What are you… Hey!"

Castiel had plopped down into his bed, Dean still in his arms. Dean was just about to start swearing and kicking when Cass's lips suddenly pressed against the back of his neck. "I love you, Dean Winchester," he said. "I guess it's crazy for me to worry about you, but I can't help it. I just want to help. Is that so bad?"

"C-C-Castiel?" Dean managed.

But Cass didn't answer. His arms tightened around Dean. Dean grew still. His heart was pounding. But somehow, despite the erotic implications in lying like this with Castiel, Dean understood that Cass wasn't being amorous, but protective. Something about "Dust In The Wind," or perhaps the way Dean sang it, had really gotten to him.

Dean relaxed in Castiel's arms, and before he knew it, he was asleep.