Fortunately, Dean's predicted cardiac emergency never materialized. The three men dropped Castiel's belongings back at Dean's new apartment. Then they went back to Sam's and loaded up everything Sam could give them. This included the inflatable mattress, some blankets and spare pillows, toilet paper and a roll of paper towels, some old chipped dishes and silverware, a few pots and pans and cooking utensils, and the television that Sam had offered. Jess hadn't had much to say. She was clearly very emotional at seeing Cass still with them. She stayed busy, helping load things into the minivan and trying to keep the children out of the way. The twin boys were underfoot, running, shouting and occasionally helping. Lilly was a hinderance, constantly clinging to Cass's leg or wanting Dean to pick her up. Just before they'd gone, she'd kissed Dean's cheek, slid a folded copy of her latest drawing into the pocket of his leather jacket, and made him promise he would put it on the fridge in his new place. "I know my letters," she announced. "My teacher says I have to write 'Lilly Winchester,' but that's dumb!"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "What's dumb about writing your name?"

"Because I'm going to be Princess Lilly!"

Dean had laughed. "Oh, that's right, how could I forget? But you have to write 'Winchester' so you can sign your royal decrees," he reminded.

"Ok!" Lilly had immediately wanted down. Then she ran off to practice her letters.

Castiel was a huge help, especially with the TV. Dean and Sam had muscled the thing into the trunk with a great deal of swearing and attached it with bungee straps. Cass had taken it into the apartment himself, only a slight grimace showing that he'd had any trouble at all with the heavy old-fashioned set.

"That man," Sam declared, "is as strong as an ox! See, Dean? Top-secret government supersoldier modifications!"

"You're an idiot, Sam," Dean groaned. "Yeah, he's strong, but he's not like super strong! Nothing he's done has shown him to be anything more than a strong guy, ok? Even Agent Morningstar wasn't superman, just, you know, surprisingly strong. So no, I really don't think we're dealing with supersoldier modifications here, Sam, at least not in terms of Cass's strength."

"Well, I guess you'd know," Sam sighed. He actually looked disappointed. "I mean, if he didn't do anything in the throes of passion, then he…"

"Wait, what?" Dean exclaimed. "Throes of passion, what are you talking about?"

"When you guys made love on my sofa couch last night," Sam explained. He clicked his fingers. "Oh yeah, that reminds me. Jess left you these. She must have picked them up before you guys came over yesterday, but forgot about them when we were talking. I guess she jumped to conclusions pretty quickly about you two before she even met Cass. But turns out she was right, huh?"

Dean blinked. "What?"

"Just hold on a sec." Sam got into the glove box and produced a bag, which he handed to Dean with a wink. "Jen told me about these last night, because we figured you'd, you know. We're both happy for you, man. I mean, if anyone deserves someone good in their life, it's you, Dean! But play it safe, ok?"

Dean looked in the bag, saw the container of lube and the condoms inside, and blushed to the roots of his hair. "Dude! We didn't, I mean, thanks, God knows I'd like to, but we're not like that. Even if we were, I wouldn't have sex on your couch in your living room with you two down the hall and your kids right upstairs!"

Sam scoffed and waved a hand in dismissal. "Eh, we didn't mind, and you know the kids sleep like the dead. We weren't listening or anything, but we didn't hear anything, so don't worry." He smiled. "Dean, I get it. You get comfy, and you're right next to each other, one thing leads to another…"

"I am not having sex with him!" Dean yelled. "Sam, nothing happened, ok? Thank you for these, but seriously, nothing happened!"

Sam cocked an eyebrow, and his grin grew wider. "That so? You guys sure looked comfy to me, all spoony with him holding onto you?"

"He's just really affectionate," Dean argued weakly. "Sammy, he held me like that after I sang to him over the weekend because he got emotional about it. But I swear, we did not have sex on your couch."

"In that case, you're an idiot," Sam told him. "The guy is obviously crazy about you, Dean. He was ready to lay down some serious whoopass on that agent when he saw the asshole shoving you into his vehicle. What the hell was that all about, anyway? I cannot believe Homeland Security is kidnapping people in hospital parking garages now. That's a new low, man, a new low!" He shook his fist up at the sky, scowling at the hidden satellites he believed were watching. "My point is, if you two aren't at the physical stage yet, well, that's fine, take it as slow as you need. I know it's been a while for you, and God only knows what his history is. Looking like that, I kind of doubt he's a blushing virgin. But you two have been dancing around the fact that you both obviously want the other for long enough. I never saw so much eye sex in my life." Ignoring Dean's sputtering, Sam continued. "Whatever you got between you, it's time to sit down and talk it out."

"I'd planned on it," Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck as he gave up the fight. "This weekend."

Sam stared flatly at him. "This weekend? Dean, it's Tuesday!"

"Yeah, Sam, I am aware that it is Tuesday. Can we please drop the subject? You made your point, and I appreciate it. And these." He indicated the bag. "Don't know that I'll necessarily be using them, but it's good to have them, I guess."

Sam patted his arm. "Good man. Let's head in."

The two turned towards the apartment and there was Castiel, standing a few feet away from them, head cocked, obviously having listened in on most if not all of the conversation.

Silence.

"Awkward," Sam called.

"No kidding. Cass, it looks like we need to talk," Dean began.

"Hey, yeah, look at the time!" Sam exclaimed. "Gotta get going. You two have fun now, bye!" Sam practically ran to his minivan, waved cheerfully, and was on his way.

Now it was just Dean and Cass, staring at each other while Dean clutched a bag filled with condoms and lube. Dean looked around, suddenly aware that his apartment was one of many in the row building. He cleared his throat. "Can we go inside?" he asked. "C'mon, buddy, I really do not want to have this conversation out here." He started into the building.

Castiel followed. He closed the door and came over, standing only a few feet away. His eyes moved from Dean's face to the bag in his hand.

"Ok, it's obvious that I am completely and totally busted," Dean confessed. "For the record, I did not ask for these. I have no intention of jumping you, or pressuring you into anything you don't want. My idiot brother and his wife are only trying to look out for me because they think we're already in a physical relationship. But seeing as how you obviously heard the conversation Sam and I were having, I can't hide and try to say the whole thing's just a big misunderstanding. Hell, even if that were possible. I already told you how I felt, back before we got to the hospital."

As he spoke, Dean was staring at Castiel's cowboy boots. They looked more fitting now that Castiel was decked out in jeans and a plaid shirt with a dark blue jacket that matched his eyes. The jeans clung to the man's thighs and ass, emphasizing those features in a way Dean really did not want to think too much about right now. Dean dared to look up, trying to gauge Castiel's reaction. But Castiel only looked at him, those gorgeous deep blue eyes betraying nothing at all of what the man was thinking.

Dean quickly looked back down. "Alright. I'm attracted to you. Hell, tell the truth and shame the devil, I'm pretty sure that I'm flat out in love with you, Castiel. Like I told you, I'm bi, but I've never been in a real relationship with a man. I've only had a few long-term relationships with women, and none of them worked out. I…" He chuckled at himself, eyes still on the floor. "I have no idea what I'm doing. I mean, we just met a few days ago, and things don't typically go this quick, you know? We still barely know each other. Hell, you barely know yourself! But you're all I think about."

Dean paced around, rubbing at the back of his neck, trying to find the words he was looking for. "It's just my typical luck that you would come out there and literally catch me holding the bag. The stars tend to be set against me more often than not. You know how Sam said my luck is either amazingly good or horribly bad? I call that 'Oden luck.' Not Odin, like the Viking god, but Oden, spelled with an E. See, this is how big of a nerd I am, Cass. Back west when I was in school, I was in a tabletop RP game. You probably have no idea what I'm talking about, because you've probably never even heard of Dungeons and Dragons, but it was like that. Anyway, my character was a priest, and so I needed to pick a god that my character worshipped. Well, in this version we were playing, a priest wasn't necessarily a healer. I had this berserker priest that I wanted to be a real ass kicker, so I picked the Viking god Odin. Only problem was, I suck at spelling. And our GM was a real sadistic bastard. No one could play with your mind and throw out plot twists like he could, Cass, and he was notorious for seeing you make a mistake and just letting it play out. I could not figure out why I never was able to convert anyone to get more power, or why my spells wouldn't work. Turns out, it was because my god didn't exist, because I'd spelled the name wrong."

"The thing was, I always had this crazy luck, either astoundingly good or obscenely bad. And during that game, I tried to convert another character and rolled a critical hit. When I converted a worshipper, I also created a deity. So our GM had to create stats for this god. He ended up being a god of berserkers, fuzzy bunny rabbits, and luck that was either extremely good or extremely bad. So, I have Oden luck." He raised his hands and let them fall back to his sides. "And you have no idea what I am talking about and why the hell am I telling you this? Because I have diarrhea of the mouth when I get nervous, that's why! God knows, I'm nervous now."

Dean sighed, stopped pacing, and went back to staring at Castiel's boots. "You remember how I told you about songs? Well, the reason I hadn't touched Bessie in way too long before you showed up was that I'd lost my inspiration. But that changed when I met you. For the first time, I feel like I could sing songs again. Because when two people fall in love, their hearts are joined. Then, when you hold the person you love in your arms, and you see that love shine in their eyes? When that happens, you can look up and see the stars shining just a little brighter than before. The whole world seems filled with light. And then, Cass, then your heart sings, and that's how I've always sung my songs. Once upon a time, I could just think about how much I loved Lisa and the songs would just tumble out. It's been a long time since I felt that way. But now I think I could sing songs again. For you." Dean took a shaky breath and licked his lips. "You're in my blood, Castiel, like you're a part of me. I know it's crazy, but I feel like you're that person that I've looked for my entire life." He grimaced. "Man! That just sounds corny as hell."

Silence.

Dean squirmed, not daring to look up. "It's ok, if you don't feel the same," he ventured. "If you don't want a relationship, or if this is all just making you too uncomfortable, I get it. I sprang this on you out of nowhere today, after I nearly turned you over to some asshole who would have given you to those Homeland Security goons. I get why you were upset now. You flat-out told me that you knew who you were. I asked you if you knew those names, and you didn't. I should have trusted you, believed you. Yeah, you've got brain damage, but it's obvious you're not stupid, and you're not confused, either. I acted like you were an idiot, like you didn't know what you were doing, or like you were a child. Because of that, I almost got you captured. So I get it if you're pissed. Then me dropping all of this on you on top of it?" He shook his head. "You don't have to stay. I doubt I would, if I was in your position. So just walk out the door, Castiel, and keep going right out of my life. That's an order. I'll get the message."

Immediately, the cowboy boots turned, moving away. Dean stared at the spot where they were, hearing the door open, the boots stepping out, and then the door closing. Outside, he could hear the sound of Castiel's boots on the pavement as he kept walking. Dean kept listening, hearing the sound grow fainter and fainter. And then finally he couldn't hear it anymore.

Dean forced himself to raise his head, ordered his body to move. Numb, he went to the window and looked out. But there was no one outside.

Castiel was gone.

It felt like something inside of him, something frail and delicate, shattered into a million pieces. Dean focused on breathing, hand clutching at his chest even as his other tightened on the damned paper bag. He looked down, seeing the bag. He hurled it into a corner.

Dean paced a bit, still trying to remember how to breathe. The pain in his chest had naturally ignited more pain in his head. It was hardly the first time Dean had put his heart into someone else's hands only to have it broken. He was supposed to marry Lisa! But somehow, this seemed worse. The pain of losing Castiel was a physical thing, crushing him, cutting off his breath and shutting down his ability to think. He sobbed, hating himself. How stupid could he be? Castiel had been all this time with no one but Dean to care about him. Of course he'd reached out, drawn close the only person in his life. That hardly meant he'd wanted a relationship other than the close friendship they already had! Now what would happen to Cass, out on his own, with the one person he'd counted on for help gone?

Dean had finally cried himself out and was sitting in the corner, staring at nothing and just hurting silently when his phone rang. His heart sank when he saw that the caller was the NYPD. "Hello?" he said cautiously.

"I'm looking for Mr. Dean Winchester?"

"Yes, speaking?"

"Mr. Winchester, this is Detective Cuevas with the NYPD," the caller began. "We're calling to let you know that there's been a rather grave mistake on our part. Do you recall the gentlemen who spoke to you from Homeland Security?"

"Yes, yes I do. What about them?"

"When they approached us, they appeared to have all the proper credentials," Cuevas explained. "But we recently discovered that we've been victims of a fraud. Homeland Security denies sending any agents out, or even of having any knowledge of or interest in the events at your apartment."

"What?" Dean leaned on the wall for support. "Then who were they?"

"The truth is, we have no idea, and that is why we're contacting you. Now we're already looking for them, and we will track them down. But since they seemed interested in you personally, we wanted to warn you."

"They were at the hospital," Dean said. "They hired some actor to say he was Castiel's brother and try to get him to go with them. They're after him, not me!"

Cuevas paused. "I'm sorry, but who is Castiel?"

"Castiel Novak," Dean explained, digging for Donna's card. "The man who rescued me when my apartment was on fire. That's the name he's using now. Listen, you need to get in touch with Donna, the social worker at the hospital." Dean rattled off her contact information. "She can tell you more about the guy who tried to take him today, and he should be able to get you to your impostors."

"Alright, we'll follow up. In the meantime, be careful. If you see either of these men again, contact the police immediately. We'll sweep in and grab them. But do not try to approach them. Just call us. Alright?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you for the call." Dean chuckled. "You know, I'd been worried that they'd follow me home from work and find Cass. But they probably only knew my name because I was on TV the night I found him. If they're not really Homeland Security, they wouldn't have any way to know where I worked, would they? And that's also why they kept asking me to turn Cass over to them, and tried to trick me into doing it. Because they couldn't produce a warrant and just arrest him, could they?"

"Mr. Winchester, we don't know anything at all about these two," the officer advised. "So please just be very careful. When we get them, we'll let you know."

"Appreciate it."

Dean hung up. Then he immediately bolted out the door, Castiel's name on his lips. But he was long gone, and Dean didn't even have the faintest idea of what direction he'd taken. The sun was already low in the sky, just about to dip below the horizon. It would be dark soon. How could he find Cass then?

Dean looked up at the darkening sky. It was, he noted with no surprise, the exact color of Castiel's eyes. "Please, God," he prayed. "Please don't let me cock this up anymore with him? He's all alone out there, and he has no idea the lengths these people are willing to go to try to get him! I know I don't deserve someone like him in my life. But regardless of how I feel about him, Cass needs help. Help me find him, God! Keep him safe until I do. And thank you, regardless of how it all ends, for sending him to me."

He didn't pray much as a rule, although he did consider himself spiritual. Dean just hoped that God was listening. He picked a direction – straight ahead – and started off at a jog. Cass was so literal that Dean could see him walking straight out the door and just going forward. He had no other leads. He also had no idea how much of a head start Cass had. But Dean was determined to find him. Whatever happened between the two of them needed to take a backseat to finding Cass and keeping him safe.