I have always liked Eileen :D


Chapter 6

Dean woke up the next morning with a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. It took him a couple of minutes to figure out why would he be feeling in such a way in the first place, but a memory came to him soon enough.

Lips. Castiel's lips, to be exact. And the memory of kissing said lips.

It was only by sheer will that Dean avoided a massive freak out right there and then. For Chuck's sake, what the hell was he thinking?! He had kissed an angel again, a full-fledged angel this time, and that wasn't even the worst part. Sinning aside (because he was sure that tempting an angel had to be a sin), this was Castiel he had kissed! Cas, his own dorky angel, the one who had fallen for him in every way imaginable because, apparently, had been corrupted by Dean's mere touch in Hell. This was his best friend, the one who had chosen him over Heaven and who knew how much else.

No, it wasn't. The worst part of all was that Dean wasn't even sorry he did it. He regretted nothing, which didn't actually mean he had the minimal idea what the fuck he was doing.

Getting up from the bed, he reached for the sink in his bedroom and opened the faucet, splashing water on his face, hoping it would help him to clear his ideas. It didn't. The touch of Cas' mouth still lingered in his brain like an annoying blur that refused to be ignored.

It had been a nice first kiss, in Dean's opinion. It had been gentle, and soft, and tender. Dean didn't get a lot of gentleness in his life, no kidding, specially not from the kisses of his many one-night stands and occasional hook-ups. There was never time for that, so he went straight to the abrasive, hot French kisses that worked the best in getting himself and his partner in the mood for a sexy time. But kissing Castiel had been different, and different wasn't bad. He wanted to kiss him again, but what if his celestial partner didn't like it? What if kisses weren't part of the kind of love that the angel professed to him?

Dean made his way to the kitchen, sure that the seraph had already started the coffee machine for the morning. Castiel didn't sleep, so when he was at home with them (at home, holy shit) he liked to prepare coffee for the rest of the household.

"Hello, Dean." And effectively, there he was. "Good morning. Have you slept well?"

"Morning, buddy. Yeah, I have."

Dean felt suddenly glued to the spot. He just stood there, mug in hand, looking at the angel. He seemed... normal, like always. His greeting had been the same as every morning too. Nothing looked different, and that was precisely what was throwing Dean off balance. How could he act like everything was still the same? Like they haven't kissed yesterday at all? Like...?

Like Dean, who was behaving inside as a teenage girl with her first crush.

Shaking his head, Dean told himself to cut the crap and start moving to get his fill of coffee while it was still hot.

"It never occurred to me before, Cas, but it's kinda unfair that I can't make you the same question," he joked. "How am I supposed to start a morning chat then?"

"You can always ask me anything, Dean, no matter the time of the day or night. Even if the answer will not be satisfying."

Yeah, same ol' Castiel. Nothing changed there, and that was somehow irking the hunter.

"Right. So..." Dean searched for something to talk about while putting bread in the toaster. "How are you? I mean, after the whole Lance of Michael ordeal, you just took off after Kelly again. We never gave you a proper check up or anything."

"I appreciate your concern, Dean, but there is nothing to worry about. Fortunately, I came out of such a dire situation unscathed."

"That's what you call it, Cas? A 'dire situation'?" The hunter turned to look at him, frowning. "You almost died, Cas. Again. It was a lot more than that, and it... it brought back many bad memories. And after that you simply left."

Castiel frowned as well, but for a totally different reason. He looked intently at his friend, eyes locked onto each other.

"What memories did it bring back, Dean? You just told me that you have slept well."

"And I did, I didn't mean it like that. I meant that seeing you like that, all bloody and broken, suffering indescribably... it made me think about my time in Hell. The years I spent there, torturing souls and..." Dean licked his suddenly dry lips, looking down. "All the pain you went through because I wasn't there to help you in time, at Ramiel's house, when I ran to you and didn't find you... I mean, I was glad that Jess got you out of there before the Prince killed you, but still... I felt like it should've been me."

"Oh, Dean..." the angel whispered, moved. "For the countless nights I spent invisible by your bedside, dulling your memories of Hell so they would not torment your dreams... if there is a single memory I wish you had not forgotten, it certainly would be this one."

"Which one?" he asked, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Dean, when you went to Hell and I was tasked with retrieving you, it was too late. You had already spilt blood and broken the first seal. However, as it is obvious that you do not remember our very first encounter, you are also mistaken about the situation I found you in."

"Meaning what? I need a full explanation here, Cas."

"You were, indeed, working under Alastair's commands to torture souls. What I saw, though... was not their pain but yours, Dean. I do not know how, I cannot understand it even now, but one way or another, all the suffering those poor souls must have felt was transferred to you. You cut and maimed and stabbed, but you were the one crying."

The older Winchester was stunned by this unexpected revelation, not daring to believe it true, mouth and eyes wide open. But what would be the point of Castiel lying to him about it?

"Are you... is this...?" he couldn't even bring himself to ask.

"I am only speaking the truth, Dean. Of course, when I found you, I took you out immediately and did not stay to watch more of your performances, but considering Alastair's words... If a demon is to be believed, he was amused by the fact that since the first day you left the rack, you were still going through daily torture."

"Alastair didn't lie," Dean muttered, his voice hoarse. "He said lying was useless, because most of the time the truth was so much more painful."

"So you see, Dean?" Castiel cooed sympathetically. "Even after damning your soul to Hell, you were still a righteous man that tried to help others."

A faint burning smell reminded Dean of his forgotten breakfast. Grateful for the excuse, he turned his back to the angel, unable to hold his blue gaze any longer without reaching a breaking point. He didn't want to start weeping so early in the morning, so he minded the toasts instead. He scrapped the burnt off with a knife and added some healthy apricot marmalade that Jess had bought the other day.

"So, wait a second," Dean mumbled when he sat down in front of his friend to eat. "A moment ago, when you said that you have spent countless nights by my bedside... was that what you were doing all the times I caught you watching me sleep? Dealing with my nightmares?"

"That is correct, Dean," Castiel confirmed, smiling softly. "I know you find it 'creepy', but (sigh)... You do not seem to remember it either, but after you summoned me for the first time in that barn and we met again, you tended to call out for me in your nightmares. You screamed for me and begged me to save you, and I think Sam could corroborate this fact. Since then, whenever you so much as uttered my name in your sleep, I always came to you, because I preferred you being angry than to risk a chance of you actually needing me and not being there."

"Cas, I... I never knew... that you... I mean, I'm..." the hunter was beyond words.

"You're welcome, Dean," the angel said, understanding what the other man intended to convey. "I am actually quite happy to be aware of the frequency that I make an appearance in your dreams, even nowadays."

Dean choked on his toast at this, unwilling to explain to his (still incredibly naive) friend that his dreams nowadays were far, very far from the nightmares he used to have back in the day, and thus the role that the angel played in them was also quite different.

They spent the rest of Dean's breakfast in comfortable silence, until the human finished and got up to clean the dishes.

"Well, I will be on my way then," Castiel said. "I am glad I was able to spent breakfast time in your company, Dean."

"Wait, you're going again, Cas? So soon?" and he sounded kinda crestfallen.

"Yes. It is of utmost importance that I locate Kelly Kline before the child is born. As much as I would like to, I cannot stay."

"Yeah. Sure, man, I know that. Just... be careful, ok? And I mean it. Don't get yourself hurt or... or killed or anything. And don't trust flirty waitresses either, you really don't know your way around them."

"Alright, Dean. I will keep your advices in mind."

Castiel had already exited the kitchen, heading to the garage, when the hunter called after him one last time.

"Cas, wait!"

The angel did, until the Winchester was beside him.

"Yes, Dean?"

"Uh... this is, it's strange for me to ask you, but..." Dean ran a hand through his hair, nervous. "You see, about yesterday... you said you enjoyed it, so I was thinking that perhaps... only if you want, 'cause it's not like you have to, but... can I k-kiss you again, Cas?"

It had been a while since Dean felt this ridiculous, stuttering like a little boy to his first girlfriend, and for something as simple and innocent as a kiss. But there was no way avoiding it, it was all too new between them.

"Yes!" and Chuck bless him, Castiel sounded really happy to be asked. "Yes, Dean, of course you can."

Half smiling and half breathing in relief, Dean got closer to the angel, and just like the previous night, cupped his face in one hand before gently pressing their lips together. A wave of tenderness washed over the hunter at the soft contact.

"Good luck in your hunt, Cas," Dean wished him, pulling away.

"Thank you, Dean."

With this, the seraph finally disappeared from sight down the hallway. Dean turned around, intending of going back to the kitchen, but was frozen in the spot as soon as he looked up. Because right there, barely a few metres in front of him, stood another person. A person grinning mischievously.

"Ehm..." he started.

"Don't even try," his brother's soulmate said, raising a hand to stop him talking. "I totally saw it, and you're not going to convince me of the contrary."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Next day in the night, the two hunters returned quite happy to the bunker. Jessica was lazing in the library, comfortably crossed over an armchair with a book on her lap, already in her sleepwear when they arrived.

"Welcome back," she greeted them.

"Hi, precious!" Sam responded, bowing down a little to kiss her.

"Did something good happen? It's not usual for you to come back smiling and laughing."

"Sammy's just giggling because Eileen will be visiting in a couple of days, and probably also staying with us for a while. We were talking to her in the car an hour ago."

"Oh, please, Dean. Like you're not happy too."

"I didn't say I wasn't."

"Eileen?" Jess repeated, curious. "Who's she?"

"She's a friend of us, a huntress," Sam answered, grinning. "We met her during a banshee case near here. She's a sweet and funny girl."

And for some reason, his cheeks turned a little pink at the mention of her, which didn't go unnoticed by the blonde. An uneasy feeling set in her stomach, but she ignored it. There was no real reason to be suspicious, and her name wasn't among the past relationships Sam had told her about.

"She sounds nice."

"She is!" Sam beamed. "You'll see, precious. You're gonna love her too."

Jessica frowned slightly at the term 'love', but didn't give it any more importance. She probably was overthinking and taking things out of context.

Dean noticed the change of attitude in Jessica, but decided not to step in. It wasn't like there was anything going on between his brother and Eileen anyway, and the two women most likely would end up being great friends if given the chance. He instead took out his phone, disappointed to see that there was no new message from Cas since he had left yesterday. He never liked not knowing how the angel was doing.

"Ok, I can almost feel the dirt crusting on my skin, so I call dibs on the first shower!" Sam exclaimed happily, hurrying his way to the locker room before Dean could retort.

"Bitch!" he called angrily after him.

"Jerk!" was heard from the hallway.

"The locker room has five shower stalls and a separate bathtub," Jessica commented. "Why don't both of you shower together, then?"

"Blondie, you simply don't shower with your brother after reaching a certain age, not even in different stalls. If your body suddenly decides to act up, things can get very weird really soon. Last time we showered together I was still 14."

"Oh, I get it."

Dean allowed himself a small naughty smile, before looking down at this phone again. No Cas' voice in the mail either.

"Are you worried about Castiel?"

"Yeah, a bit. He tends to do stupid things the moment I take my eyes off him, like sacrificing himself for the sake of the world and such. It's kinda a bad habit of his."

Jessica couldn't help but chuckle at this.

"What? What's so funny?"

"Are you sure that's the only reason you want to hear from him, Dean? Because what I saw yesterday tells me otherwise."

The older Winchester shifted nervously on his seat, looking away.

"That... that was just in the spurt of the moment, Jess."

"Mmm-hmmm. Whatever you say, Dean, I'm not going to make fun of your cuteness. You didn't either when you saw Sam and me in the library that time."

"Oh, believe me I wanted," he assured her, jokingly. "You were adorable, just like two birds in a nest. But then, I noticed that Sammy was crying, and... I just couldn't."

"Why?"

"You see, Jess," Dean said, pensive, scratching his forehead. "Throughout our life, I've seen Sam crying many times... well, not that many actually, but he always cried out of pain or sadness. That was the first time I saw him weeping out of happiness, and it's enough to make me know that I won't ever make fun of him for it."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Behind the two men, Eileen descended cheerfully the stairs of the bunker, excited to be able to visit such an incredible place, and also to be in the company of the few friends she had in the world. She also intended to visit Mildred soon.

"This here is the war room," Sam was explaining. "Next is the library, and at the back is the telescope, which we still don't know how it works. That doorframe there is the kitchen, the other is the principal hallway. I've prepared a room for you, Eileen, but be careful where you go because the hallways are labyrinthine. The garage is..."

"For God's sake, Sam, let her breathe!" Jessica greeted them, coming from the kitchen with a plate full of pinwheel cookies. "Nobody could learn their way around here just by indications anyway. She has to settle in."

Dean didn't even bother to hide the chuckle that escaped his throat.

"And the pretty thing coming our way is the most recent fixture we got in the bunker to adorn our lives," Sam introduced, not in the least embarrassed. "Eileen, this is Jessica Moore. Jess, this is Eileen Leahy."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Eileen," Jessica offered her free hand, smiling politely. "I haven't had the chance to meet anyone since I... uh... arrived here."

"I'm glad to meet you too, Jessica," Eileen shook her hand and signed. "And I'm aware of your unusual circumstances. You can speak freely in front of me."

"Oh. So you are... please, forgive me, I didn't know since nobody told me." Jessica was surprised for a second, looking at the other woman signing, and then looked accusingly at the male hunters. "I don't know anything about sign language. Can you understand me if I just speak normally?"

"I can, don't worry," Eileen nodded, not taking offense. "As long as you don't talk too fast, I'll understand you just fine."

"That's great, I was looking forward to meet you! In fact I made these for you, as a welcome gift." She offered her the plate of still warm cookies. "But the palaeolithic oven here isn't very fond of me yet, so please, don't feel forced to eat them if they taste bad."

"If they taste half as good as they look, they'll be delicious, thank you. Though you didn't have to bother."

"Hey, what about us?" Dean interjected, a hand on his stomach. "We're hungry too!"

"You?" Jessica fumed at the Winchesters, still angry that they hadn't warned her about a handicapped person. "You two are grounded!"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

She was tired, and also discouraged. There was something going on with Sam these days, but she wasn't sure about what exactly.

"Eileen is really nice," Jessica kept telling herself. "She's kind, and funny, and helpful. She's a huntress, so she understands a lot of things about this life that I can't. Sam... well, the guys seem to feel very comfortable around her. And she's also really pretty when she smiles."

Tossing and turning in her bed, Jessica was having a difficult time falling asleep. Her mind was constantly going back a couple of hours ago, when she had stepped into the library after her shower, and found the three hunters there drinking merrily. They were talking about some demon that Eileen had killed all on her own, and apparently it had been an important one, because she had obtained valuable information about that woman pregnant with the Devil's baby. It was obvious they were celebrating the good news, and Jessica had felt horrible for the jealousy twisting in the pit of her belly.

"Come on, Cas. I've called you three times now." She had heard Dean pacing back and forth for a moment. "Will you call me back? We've got a line on Dagon. We need your help."

Jessica had seen it then, the looks, the smiles, the mood of complicity between Sam and Eileen. They had invited her to join them, of course, but Jessica had excused herself. She hadn't wanted to cut their fun short, celebrating something that she didn't fully understand. To her, 'Devil' was just a word that didn't really have much of a meaning; nothing of which they talked about had it. It was a bit ridiculous, actually, considering she herself was one of these freaky things she couldn't totally grasp, what with being resurrected by God and everything.

Sighing deeply, Jessica gave up on her attempts at sleeping and turned on her bedside lamp. She had a couple of books there, but until now, in the months since she had been brought back to life, had read them only as entertainment. Maybe it was time for her historian mind to be put to good use again.


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