Castiel's leg ticked nervously as he tried to focus on the same line of text for the past hour, bitting the head of his pen, which he didn't even need. Maybe it would have been easier if he didn't get a wall of text, no paragraph, no spacing. Or maybe it would have been easier if the whole last week hadn't happened.

It still kind of hurt, remembering how he was holding those newspapers in his hands, just about finished skimming through them, having all the pieces come together as he realized he had been fooled. He remembered vividly how crushing it felt to look up and be met with those entrancing green eyes. He knew those eyes. Only the man wearing them wasn't right. He was handsome and his smile was wide and just so positive and happy and...Perfect.

That last puzzle piece fell into place, making this whole thing one big cruel cosmic joke, the truth burning a wide hole in Castiel's chest.

He lied that night. He lied to himself when he said it wasn't about him. That a person that could have taken Dean's place was more important then his feelings. It hurt badly to be cheated like that, but the feeling was slightly eased by the expression on Dean's face after Castiel yelled at him, just before he left him standing out on the street.

Before, with Daphne and Zach, when he got hurt, when they hurt him, they did it with a vicious smile on their faces. They enjoyed hurting him. But Dean... He seemed hurt by Castiel's words, as if he had no idea that what he did was wrong. Maybe he didn't. Maybe he thought he and Cas could be friends. Maybe Castiel would have liked that...

But no, no... Castiel knew well not to tread down that path again, not this time, not ever. With a ironic huff, he figured how at least now, he could tell Gabriel 'I told you so.'. The man was so adamant about Castiel opening up and letting someone see what was hidden inside, and Castiel proved to him, people can't be trusted with his fragile heart.

Castiel sighed in annoyance. He wasn't that fragile. His need to romanticize things would sometimes get out of hand, and then everything seemed blown out of proportion. I mean it isn't like Dean meant to break his heart, right?

Wait, what?

It was the perfect time for a groan, because no, just no. Dean didn't break his heart, come on. He only met the man once, he didn't know much about him to begin with. Sure, he was kind and understanding and maybe a little rough around the edges, but Castiel couldn't have known if all that wasn't just an act too.

But it couldn't have been an act. That hint of sadness in his voice when he thought Cas would back out of his offer and still he said it was okay. That spark in his eyes when Castiel told him he could shower first before dinner. That small smile when Castiel agreed to give him the tomato soup. This were real, they had to be.

Otherwise that silence as they ate would have been so awkward and uncomfortable. Castiel turned on the TV, but it was as if he did nothing at all, nothing changed. It was just so easy, to sit there and eat and be with Dean and not feel the need to say or do anything but just be.

He remembered wondering how Dean would have looked like shaven and with a haircut. Guess he knew that now.

God, why did he have to look so... Good?

A man like Dean would haunt Castiel's dreams, if they weren't already filled with nightmares. Still, it would have been a nice notion, to dream about Dean, like he did that night the man spent sleeping in his bed.

Maybe it was for the better that Castiel didn't dream about him. That his nights were filled with the horrors of his past. Dean's actions might have hurt him, but it wasn't even remotely close to what he had been through, so it wasn't fair to put Dean in the same basket as Daphne and Zach.

Dean even tried to apologize. Or at least Cas thought so. Why else would he show up at the shelter? Was that a box of chocolates he had? Maybe he was on his way to a date, and wanted to stop by and... Gloat? No, taking perverse pleasure in other's humiliation was Daphne's thing, and Castiel learned that people like that needed a bigger audience, and would go about it much more dramatically. But then... Why was Dean there?

A car honk brought Castiel out of his thoughts, and he heard an old lady shouting something, but it was of little importance. He looked up to his clock and found that yet another hour had passed, and he didn't even manage to read through the first paragraph. In his defence, it was a few pages long paragraph, so...

Castiel saved his work and closed his laptop, knowing he won't be able to get any work done today. He was useless with his head constantly swimming with thoughts of Dean and his stupidly green eyes.

Tea. That's what Castiel needed. Some good, warm tea with honey. Maybe a few cookies too. He earned them. The whole damn jar. Yes.

As he waited for the water to boil, Castiel purposely forced himself not to think about Dean, but about the plot of his own novel and the characters in it, and somehow ended up changing the main character completely to avoid any similarities between him and Dean. Still not thinking about him.

The tea was done and Castiel choose to have it in the kitchen, dipping the cookie in it and preparing to feel the sweet taste of honey. Just as he was about to lift it to his mouth, the doorbell rang, startling him. Castiel turned towards his front door as if he would find the person that rang the bell behind it, and just stared at it for a moment, the soggy cookie breaking off and falling into his tea mug.

He frowned down at it, but the doorbell rang again, and he dropped the whole cookie in the mug, be it damned, and walked the short distance to his front door. It was an old building, with phones as intercoms, and Cas picked it up, curiously bringing it to his ear and asking "Yes?"

Met with silence, Castiel couldn't help but wonder if maybe he lost his marbles and was imagining things? Was he really that lonely that he conjured the sound of the doorbell as his heart ached for a visitor? How Edgar Allen Poe of him.

Just to make sure, he tried one more time. "Hello?"

"Um... Hi." The voice said from the other side, and wow, the effect it had on Castiel was huge. Someone was really there. Someone a bit shy, or maybe uncertain, judging by their tone. A small smile appeared on Castiel's face. Even if this was a mistake on someone's part, even if they were maybe looking for the guy that lived downstairs or the lady that lived above him, it felt great to... Hear someone else.

"Hi. Can I help you?" Castiel asked the first thing of the top of his head, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the need to keep this person on the line and talking. One would think, considering his previous interaction with a stranger, he would be cautious and closed off, yet something inside of him wanted to reach out. He had never felt like that before.

The person on the other side sighed heavily, and Castiel drew a sharp breath at the sound, as it traveled deep down, shaking him to his very core.

"I am beyond help..." The stranger said, but before he could continue, Castiel cut him off.

"Don't say that. Everyone deserves a chance." He said and the stranger huffed ironically.

"I don't dare to hope for one." The stranger said and Castiel paused, because this was starting to get bizarre. It occurred to him just what he was saying and doing, his inner voice screaming at him to run, hide.

"Who is this?" He found himself asking instead of hanging up.

"I know you probably don't want anything to do with me, but I had to come here and tell you I am sorry. I might be selfish, but I needed you to know that." The voice said and no, no, no, no, it's not him, it can't be him...

"It was wrong, what I did, I know that now. I am so fucking sorry, Cas. I never meant to hurt you, or anyone else. I am just an idiot who doesn't always think things through." He, Dean, spoke and despite Castiel's heard pounding so loudly in his ears, he could still hear every words, every sorrowful tone and every heavy sigh.

"But I am going to fix it, Cas. I am going to repay you for everything you did. I am going to repay you by helping others. And maybe, someday... Someday it'll..."bDean trailed off, another heavy sigh filling the line. It sounded so deep, so hurting, so... Suicidal. Or maybe that was just Castiel's imagination overdramatizing things. Still, Dean didn't continue with that thought and Cas would wonder for a long time what Dean wanted to say.

"I'm sorry, Cas. I really am." Dean said and Castiel wasn't sure, but it sounded like he was leaving. A part of him wanted to say something, anything, because he had been right, Dean wasn't a malicious backstabbing asshole, he just made a mistake. But words got stuck in his throat and he couldn't utter one word to stop him from leaving. So with a shaky breath, Castiel reached and hung up, then proceeded to stand, rooted to the spot, staring into nothing.

The next day Castiel dragged himself out of bed and stared daggers in his coffee maker as he waited for it to brew his coffee. He had a rough night, but not because his nightmares kept waking him, but because a certain set of green eyes wouldn't let him fall asleep. He tried so hard not to think about Dean and about what he said yesterday, but it was all to no avail. He kept second-guessing if he overreacted when he yelled at him, the devastated look on Dean's face haunting him. But at the same time it hurt, and he felt so... Betrayed.

Still, Dean felt bad enough to go out of his way to apologize, for what he did to Castiel and he said he would make amends by helping others, but there was more. And Castiel knew he was being selfish, but he wanted more then apology. He wanted Dean to try and make it up to him, too. But it wasn't about him, it shouldn't be. Still, he couldn't help how he felt.

Oh, to hell with him and Dean and all of this! He was leading a perfectly content life before Dean came along and ruined everything. Up until now Castiel felt best just sitting in his apartment and editing for Crossroads Publications Inc. or working on the sequel of his novel, but now the walls seemed to close up on him, it felt suffocating to be here, and Castiel yearned to talk to someone, be around people.

It would have been easier if Gabriel was around. He had checked on Castiel the day after Dean spent the night, and Castiel told him everything was fine, but he didn't know the truth then. And Gabriel departed for Europe or Asia the day after, on yet another one of his 'jobs'. Private contractor, my ass. What private contractor couldn't be reached at all until he returned to the States? Castiel let himself be fooled a few times, but he was not stupid. He knew why Gabriel wouldn't reach out while he was on the job. He was protecting Castiel, keeping him away from harm. To Cas, it seemed exaggerated, it never felt like someone might come to the States specifically to look for him. He just wasn't that important.

Finally, the coffee was ready and Castiel poured it into his mug, inhaling deeply as he brought it close to his face. He was just about to take a sip when his phone rang, startling him so much, that he spilled it all over his hand, hissing as it burned. Yeah, that's gonna leave a mark. Shit. He set the mug down and turned on the faucet, setting his hurting hand under the cool water, taking his phone with the other. He just barely glanced at it when it stopped ringing. The display said 'Missed call - F. Crowley'.

That was odd. Mr. Crowley never called, Castiel always dealt with his secretary Ruby. She was obnoxious and condescending, and Castiel suspected she never handed his manuscript to Mr. Crowley, but dared not ask. He did his work well and was paid accordingly, or at least he thought so. The phone rang again, Mr. Crowley's name flashing on the screen once more, and the odd just transformed into extremely strange. A tingle of fear crept in his mind, it must be something really important for him to be calling twice in a row.

"Hhh... Hello?"

"Ah, Castiel, darling, how are you?" The man had the creepiest voice Castiel had ever heard, but it was fine, because when he spoke to Castiel, it was always with disinterest so it was fine. This, however, sounded different.

"I'm fine, sir."

"Good, good, that's good. You doing good with Mrs. Rosen's work?"

"I am making progress, sir." Castiel gulped around the lie.

"Excellent. Take your time, there is no rush." Odd.

"Alright, sir." Castiel replied, not knowing what else to say.

"Right, right. Now, tell me, Castiel, I remember you mentioning something about a novel of your own?" Could it be? Was Crowley taking an interest in his work? A strange form of excitement filled his chest at the possibility that Mr. Crowley might consider publishing it.

"Yes, sir. I handed Ruby a copy a week after I started working for you." Cas replied sounding a bit too eager.

"Ah, Ruby. She must have misplaced it. Would you mind running down to the office and handing in another copy? I wish to personally read it and... if I like it, we might be able to work something out. That is if you are still interested in publishing?"

"Yes. Yes, sir. I have a hard copy on my laptop and I can..."

"Oh, that is excellent news, then you can just mail it to me, and I can see that Ruby prints it out."

"I will do so immediately."

"Well. Then it is settled. I will call as soon as I skim through it. I suppose no further editing is required? You are after all my best editor."

"I... I am?"

"Definitely. No one puts in the work you do."

"Um... Thank you, sir."

"You keep that up, Castiel. Don't let the few minutes of fame get to you."

"I... I won't, sir..." Castiel said uncertain. For a moment he thought that Mr. Crowley was talking about the future, when his book gets published and his name becomes known. But as he reeled in the whole conversation and how strange it was that he personally called him, and said he would personally read Castiel's work, something felt off. Why would Mr. Crowley suddenly think that what Castiel wrote might be worth publishing?

"Good. And do keep those new friends close. We'll be in touch." Mr. Crowley said and hung up, leaving Castiel in complete bewilderment. What new friends? Who was he talking about?

Like a train, it suddenly hit him. His boss had read that article Dean wrote. Of course. Balthazar told him once that he thought Crowley was a bad person (a fink was what Balthazar called him and Castiel had fun looking up the word). All of a sudden, Castiel started seeing Crowley in a new light, like a movie villain, who was looking to make a quick buck off of someone else's success. Not that having your name pop up in the local paper was any kind of success, but Crowley seemed to think that due to that, there was a money making opportunity, too good to pass on.

But Castiel didn't want that. He didn't want to be remembered as the guy who allowed himself to be fooled and tricked into doing something nice for a person that didn't earn it.

Driven by his twisted sense of justice and his own hurt, Castiel sat down in front of his laptop, typed a letter of resignation and sent that to Crowley instead. He will not work for such a fink.

He felt pretty proud of himself, and somewhat glad he wouldn't have to read one more sentence of Becky's kitsch. Until two hours later when he realized he didn't have a job anymore.

Castiel startled awake, groaning as he lifted his head off the couch's armrest where he must have fallen asleep. He had spent the whole day yesterday looking through job offers and reconsidering going back to Crowley. The man was a slimebag, but a paycheck was a paycheck.

Still, his own stupid principles and moral kept him from growling back to him and Castiel found himself in a very unenviable situation. If he didn't get a job within a week, he won't have enough for groceries and rent. Since he was payed by commission, and his last editing was completed over a month ago, the money had already run thin. He should have finished Becky'sTime for a Weddin!before he quit.

Now, as it was, he would have to spend yet another day looking for work. Cas got up to stretch and glanced at the kitchen. He was almost out of coffee, so with a heavy sigh he went ahead to prepare tea. Not his favorite morning beverage, but it would have to do. A knock on his door made him pause halfway between the couch and the kitchen making him frown at the door.

Considering that visitors had to be 'buzzed' in (the air quotes are Castiel's, not mine), this could only be someone from the building. Maybe it was the guy downstairs again, Nash or Dash, whatever was his name... No, Ash. Right. He would come by sometimes looking for matches or sugar. Still, wasn't it a little early to get high?

Without thinking, Cas opened the door, only to find a stranger on the other side. The man was tall and had broad shoulders, a military haircut and wore a black suit.

"Mr. Novak?"

"Um... Yes?" Castiel made his response sound like a question, not so sure he wanted the man to know he was in fact Mr. Novak.

"My name is Mr. Kipling and I am here to collect the property of Crossroads Publication Incorporated. Please hand over the laptop that was provided when you started working for our company." The man said calmly, and yes, alright, at least he wasn't he wasn't there to kill Cas or worse.

"Yyes. Yes, of course. Just..."

"I am afraid I don't have much time to stand about. Please hand over our property, so that I may take take my leave." This Kipling guy seemed impatient, and Castiel took a step back to glance at the laptop on his couch. Kipling must have taken that action as an invitation, so he just walked right into Castiel's home, going straight for the computer.

"Wait, please. I have personal stuff on it." Castiel said, hoping the man would allow him a moment to copy it all, but Kipling just looked at him, his lips curling into a half smile as he picked up the item in question.

"I don't see how that is my problem." He said and Castiel really wanted to stop him, because hell, his entire novel, the only remaining copy was on it, he wanted to plea, and ask for only a few seconds, but somehow didn't think it would matter to this man. And Castiel certainly wasn't going to fight him for it. That notion was just absurd.

"Please..." He managed to utter, but Kipling paid him no mind, letting himself out of the apartment. For the next few minutes, Castiel remained in the same spot, just looking at the floor absentmindedly, wondering what the hell did he do wrong to get to have a life like this, then slowly turned and shut his front door. He leaned his head on it, closing his eyes and just tried to breathe.

His work was gone.

Or maybe not? Maybe he could still take Crowley up on his offer and compromise himself and his principles in the name of survival? But what kind of life would it be, knowing he had sold himself out?

It was a few hours later that Castiel realized he would actually have to go out to look for a job, having no other means of cruising the internet, and he really didn't feel like going and talking to people, but if he didn't do it, then...

Tommorow. He'll go tomorrow. Today had already worn him out and it wasn't even noon. He felt like he didn't have strength to breathe much less do anything else, and he really need to think things through. Tommorow, he will rethink everything, make a plan of action and then go out and fix it all. Tommorow. There was a reason they call it wiser then today.

Tommorow came around too quickly, but at least Castiel had an idea about what he was going to do, having spent the entire night thinking it through between the nightmares. First, he would go down to Crossroads Publication Inc. and ask Mr. Crowley for his manuscript or at least the digital copy. The man was a sleazeball, but he wasn't a thief. Then he would go to see Balthazar.

If Gabriel were in town, he would have helped him, God knew he offered so many times, and Castiel declined each one. But that was back when he had at least some cash and a job. If he only asked, he was sure Gabriel would assist him, at least until he got back on his feet and was able to repay him. But Gabriel was unreachable. So Castiel decided to turn to the only other person he knew might be able to help him, if by nothing else, then with a job recommendation.

With all the hope he could muster, Castiel left his apartment and locked the door behind him.

Ruby was at the front desk, as she always was, and she dismissed Castiel before he could even explain. She said Mr. Crowley wasn't in today and that Castiel should come back tomorrow, or in a week or possibly never again.

As he walked out of the office, Castiel already decided he would fight for this, but a job was a priority. While he walked a few dozen blocks to the national kitchen, he thought about what sort of work he could do. Sure, he was a writer and a linguist of sort, but it was hard to find work in that field. He was good with his hands, maybe he could do something else?

Castiel looked around, seeing all the small and big business around. He could be a florist? He always liked flowers, but wasn't much of an artist when it came to decorations. A book shop? That could be perfect. If only they were hiring. Oh, a restaurant! He could work there, serve food. Or at least be the bus boy. Or wash the dishes? There were many possibilities, and Castiel found himself a bit excited at the prospect of learning new things, which was really strange for him.

Why was he getting worked up about being around people? The whole point of his work-from-home thing was to avoid people, and here he was now, eager to do it. Must have something to do with basic survival. If he wasn't cornered like this and had a choice, he was sure he would have picked staying at home.

With those thoughts in mind, he rounded the corner and walked to the open cafeteria, just as the people were finishing their meals and dropping off dirty dishes. He hadn't noticed who was serving until he approached. Meg was there, somewhere in the back along with Alfie, and Balthazar didn't seem to be around, but none of that matter, because right there, dead on center, stood a man, smiling up at the people and giving out thank-yous as they placed the dishes in a plastic box.

He looked up just as Castiel came to a stop, his vibrant green eyes widening by only a fraction, his smile faltering for just a second before it was back up full force.

"Heya, Cas."