Chapter 3

Castiel

He still didn't understand what the problem was. They had shared a bed before, so why was it a big deal this time? He had actually liked the arrangement-there had been much more room, it was very thoughtful of Gabriel in his opinion. But Dean...he could still recall the shocked look that had filled his emerald eyes when he awoke. He sighed, feeling an unpleasant twist in his stomach as he recalled how Dean had hastened to get out of the bed-away from him, he thought with a scowl.

They were in the Impala now. A stoic Dean was driving as Castiel looked out the window-he was not sulking, no matter what Sam said-with a boisterous Gabriel and an oddly bashful Sam in the backseat.

Wait a moment. "Bashful"? Sam Winchester was a lot of things, but bashful is not how the former angel would usually describe him.

Castiel paused his own musings to watch the couple in the back thoughtfully. He noted reflectively that they seemed more...relaxed than usual. Sam had yet to make any scathing comments about the archangel's dependability, at any rate, and it was a noticeable improvement.

Gabriel caught him watching them after a few moments and winked. Castiel arched an eyebrow, which earned him only a grin and a shrug as Gabriel tugged on Sam's hair (he seemed to enjoy doing that, and it always irritated Sam, who slapped his hand away). Sam made a face, his skin seeming a more reddish hue than usual, and Cas frowned for a moment, wondering if he perhaps had contracted a fever. Then he realized that no, it was a blush. Sam was blushing.

Castiel shot his brother an incredulous look, but the archangel only grinned slyly and continued antagonizing Sam. The former seraph shook his head with a resigned sigh, but as he looked away there was an indulgent grin on his face. The grin faded when he looked at Dean.

He hadn't looked at him once since they'd woken up this morning, hadn't really looked like he normally would. Castiel was surprised by how profound the sense of loss from this lack of contact was-he felt it like an almost physical sensation, a dull ache in his breastbone that had him frowning and looking out the window, suppressing a weary sigh.

He didn't understand Dean. Well, he'd never understood Dean, that had been obvious from they day they'd met. But now he really didn't understand. He'd felt Dean's reactions to being close to him. Dean may have thought he hadn't noticed, but he had. Boy, had he noticed. And they had all been pleasant. At least, Castiel thought so. Dean had pulled him close in sleep, had held him in an intimate embrace. But the instant he was conscious, he was pushing Castiel away in every sense of the word. It confused him to no end. He wanted to just ask Dean what the matter was that had him acting so strangely, but he knew Dean loathed discussing feelings and trying to push him would probably only worsen the matter.

Hearing Metallica abruptly blasting from the car's radio startled Castiel and caused him to jerk, making an involuntary noise of alarm. Once he recognized the now-familiar tune, though, he relaxed. Even more so when Dean's low, soothing voice joined in. The former seraph glanced at the hunter and felt a small, sad smile curving his lips at the corners as he watched him, and his heart squeezed in his chest uncomfortably. Just as those familiar green eyes began to flicker towards him, the former angel glanced away before they could make contact, suddenly dreading what he might see there. If the discomfort and unhappiness that had been there this morning were still present, he wasn't sure he could bear it.

He would have to talk to Gabriel when they stopped-this couldn't happen again.

"Where are we headed?" Sam suddenly piped up from the back, having to raise his voice to a half-yell to be heard over Dean and Metallica. Dean turned the radio down as he glanced in the rearview mirror at Gabriel, who just shrugged as he reluctantly removed his hand from Sam's hair. "Why are you looking at me?" the archangel asked.

"You're the one who said you could find Death," Dean replied irritably.

"I said I could probably find him, bucko. No guarantees but I'll do my best."

"Whatever," Dean muttered as he rolled his eyes, refocusing on the road. "I'm going to stop at a motel so Sam can find a case for us until you find him."

"Whatever. So...your surprise this morning," Gabriel said in far too nonchalant a tone. Castiel and Dean both stiffened as Sam glanced at them inquiringly, though for far different reasons. "Didn't you like it?"

"About that-" Dean began in a hard tone, glaring once more at the impish archangel in the backseat.

"Don't do it again," Castiel interrupted in a sullen tone, anticipating what Dean was going to say. All eyes in the car turned to him: shocked honey-gold, confused hazel, and wary, tired emerald green. Castiel focused his gaze on his brother's. "It was inappropriate and can't happen again. Do you understand?" he almost growled the words, because they hurt to spoke-it hurt to think that Dean would think of him that way, but he didn't want Dean to be even more uncomfortable around him. Perhaps if he could reassure Dean that he wasn't going to do anything to make him uncomfortable again, things could go back to the way they were.

He didn't want that-didn't want before. He wanted more than that. But he would take that over what they had currently. Gladly. At least before they had been friends. Friends was better than this...whatever it was.

Silence filled the Impala for several long moments. Then Gabriel quietly murmured, "Okay, Cas. Whatever you say." But he gave his little brother a look that clearly said, We're going to talk about this later.

Castiel nodded and turned his attention out the window once more. He didn't say another word for the rest of the drive.

And he never saw the smallest flicker of hurt in the green eyes that studied him only a few moments before returning to the road.

They stopped at a motel about half an hour later. Sam immediately grabbed Dean and hauled him in to get a key-and probably have their own brotherly talk-so Castiel found himself leaning against the hood of the Impala with Gabriel.

"What was that about, baby bro?" he asked gently. "This morning was meant to help you move things along with Dean. I anticipated this from him, but I thought you, at least, would appreciate-"

"It doesn't matter, Gabriel," Castiel interrupted, his arms crossing over his chest as though to shield himself. "Dean didn't like it, and it has strained things between us, so don't do it again."

Gabriel pursed his lips until Castiel narrowed his eyes, then heaved a put-upon sigh before reluctantly acquiescing. "Fine. Whatever you say, bro."

Castiel nodded, satisfied, as Sam and Dean emerged from the check-in office. The former angel, immediately distracted by the elder hunter's disgruntled appearance, never noticed the crossed fingers that Gabriel was hiding behind his back, or the speculative look exchanged between him and Sam.

Castiel volunteered to take the room with Gabriel tonight, so Dean gave him a key and they went their separate ways.

It was a long night all around.

Dean

He couldn't sleep. He was happy to blame it on Sam's snoring in the next bed over-seriously, it sounded like a broken chainsaw or maybe a bear-but he knew that wasn't the issue.

He couldn't stop thinking. Thinking about last night, and that morning. And those stupid big blue eyes looking sleepily up into his...like a tired puppy or something equally unfair in its cuteness.

Dean snorted softly to himself and rolled over for the thousandth time that night, glaring at the wall and punching his pillow. He was tired. He needed his four hours or he would screw up on whatever they did next, and he knew that.

So why couldn't he just sleep already.

Because you always have trouble sleeping when you're keeping a secret, his traitorous mind whispered to it.

Shut up, he growled to himself and then cursed. Talking to himself again. Freaking awesome. I swear to God, if that freaking angel in his stupid trench coat makes me lose my damn mind once and for all-

What? What would he do? He knew he'd never hurt Castiel, not on purpose anyways, any more than he would Sam. Castiel was family. He'd rebelled against Heaven, everything he'd ever known, for them.

No. For Dean. That's what he'd said. That he did it all for Dean.

The thought, barely remembered but refusing to be ignored, had Dean shifting uncomfortably. He suppressed a sigh by shoving his face into his pillow, not wanting to wake Sam, who would no doubt initiate a chick-flicky conversation about feelings or something similarly nauseating.

In the quiet dark, though, Dean felt safe to reflect, if only to himself, on what was going on in his head.

Dean Winchester is a very emotional man. He may not always express those emotions very well, of course, but they're always there. He feels love and hate and sorrow and guilt and joy to a degree of fierceness that's startling in its intensity, even to him. He thinks with his heart, even if he'll avoid discussing it like Sam avoids talking about Ruby. Taboo subjects-they stay away from them by mutual consent. It may not be better for their health, but it was easier. So that was how they handled things.

Right now, Dean knew he had some pretty strong feelings brewing, all centered around a nerdy, big-blue-eyed, messy-hair angel that had somehow become his best friend. It hadn't started that way, sure. Dean still clearly recalled the early days, which consisted mostly of grudging respect and hidden fear and resentment towards the being that had saved him from Hell, and quiet contemplation and curiosity-and sometimes irritation-from Castiel regarding him. It had been a strain, but Castiel had come through.

Dean never really thought about why Cas did what he did. He always assumed Cas had his own reasons and didn't bother prying. He felt bad about how Cas had been locked away in angel-jail or whatever because of him, and that Cas was no longer at full strength because of the rebellion that Dean had pushed him into.

He saw the sadness in Cas' eyes as he watched Gabriel's antics and the jealousy that Gabriel had all his Grace and Cas...didn't. And he felt guilty because Dean knew that any unhappiness Cas was feeling was all his fault.

He didn't want Cas to be unhappy. He didn't know what he wanted, exactly, but he was certain that he didn't want that. Whenever he managed to coax a smile or even a laugh out of the Falling Angel, Dean felt like he'd won some sort of personal victory. Seeing Cas happy, sappy and cheesy as it sounds, made him happy. He felt a strong affection for Cas, similar to what he felt for Sam, only more. Less...platonic.

Wait. Less platonic?

Dean, you freaking idiot.

And just like that, the answer was painfully obvious. Dean knew what he felt, and what he wanted from Castiel. But...Castiel was an Angel of the Lord. Falling, maybe, but still. Dean didn't know what that meant in terms of...feelings, and he sure as hell wasn't going to ask.

Dean sighed and closed his eyes, clenching his fist around the knife under his pillow. The hilt felt familiar and soothing in his hand, and it helped Dean relax a little. Too much to think about. Maybe it would seem more manageable in the morning.

[A/N: So...hi, everyone...I'm not dead! Yay!]

[I am so, so, so, SO sorry about the lateness and sort of suckiness of this chapter. I've been on what my therapist calls a 'nadir', which means low point, and have had major writer's block. It's been kind of pathetic, really. But I'm back! Yay, right? And with a brand new laptop, too! Whoopee!]

[So...yeah...this chapter...I don't like it but I needed to update. I'll try to make the next one better. Unfortunately there's angst and feels and possibly tears on the way. I have a feeling I might get a lot of unhappiness with the approaching ending...sorry about that...but anyways please let me know what you thought! Reviewers get Castiel cuddles.]

-Makky