Hello again! So, this is essentially a sequel to "Heart Trouble", or I guess you could call it a continuation. I was just going to leave that one alone because I typed up the idea really quickly and didn't have any solid plans for it to go somewhere. But a couple of you guys said you felt it was really unfinished. And I know how it sucks when you get into a story and then it just kind of... ends. So I felt bad and I figured I'd keep it going. Besides, who doesn't want to see Dean get all flustered and fangirlish over Cas?

(If you don't, consider the question rhetorical and turn back now. Foreshadowing!)

Hope it meets your demands lovely readers!

Car Trouble.

Dean was rolling down the street contentedly, listening to the radio, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel along with the beat. It felt nice to take an early day. He and Sam were always on their way somewhere new, that was a given. Always on their way to or from work. So most of Dean's driving was out of necessity, and he'd found a way to keep the joy in driving despite that. So he never got tired of being behind the wheel.

But it seemed after several hours in the car, Sam couldn't stand another second of Dean's brooding.

Dean's bad mood seemed to stretch on for weeks, but in waves. His disgruntled, crabby behavior seemed to erupt and dissipate suddenly in a pattern that Sam was all too frustrated not to be able to figure out.

And Dean couldn't dare tell his brother that it was anything from the mere thought of Cas to having a waitress with blue eyes that set him off.

So poor Sam was left to deal with a mysteriously ornery Dean more often than not, for reasons he hadn't been able to pry from the man. And being stuck together in the car for hours while Dean stewed in his juices was finally making Sam just as angry as his brother.

All he'd done was make one harmless little comment to break the ice, and Dean had all but bitten his head off. Sam had noted, after sitting in the car for hours with his newly-misanthropic brother that Dean still had the cheap ceramic coffee mug from the last place in his cup-holder. It was odd, Sam thought, that Dean should bring a less than travel-efficient cup with him everywhere they went. He wondered if Dean was having more trouble than usual dealing with the lack of sleep their lifestyle plagued them with.

"You're drinking a lot of coffee these days," Sam had said innocently, just wanting to speak for the sake of it.

The look Dean reared on him was enough to scare Sam - not an easy task. Dean narrowed his eyes, turning them on his brother narrowly, and the green of the irises practically glowed with murderous intent. Dean said nothing. He gripped the wheel tighter and fixed his eyes on the road, and Sam looked back out his window.

Another long stretch of silence fell on the car. Until Sam was too indignant to stand for it anymore.

"That's it," he'd said tightly.

"Oh what now?" Dean whined angrily.

"Pull over."

"What?"

"Dean, pull the damn car over now."

"Fine. Don't get your panties in a twist princess." Dean pulled over to the curb. He'd barely stopped the car before Sam was throwing the door open and climbing out.

"Hey, hey! Where the Hell are you going!"

"See that motel," Sam motioned down the block, "I'll be there. I am done being in the car with you for today. Done." He went to storm away but thought better of it and came back to lean into the window fixing his brother with a frustrated glare that let Dean know Sam was barely containing the urge to punch him. "For the record, you're being a little bitch!"

Dean was shocked stupid for a moment by Sam outburst before responding maturely, "You're the bitch! Bitch!" He knew Sam was right, but was too stubborn not to save face.

Sam shook his head, storming away toward the motel. Dean thought he heard a muttered, "Unbelievable."

Clever Dean. Nice comeback. "Shut up," he told his reflection in the rearview mirror. He slammed the Impala into drive and took off down the road, flipping Sam the bird as he passed him.

After that it didn't take him long to calm down. And now, he had a moment to take into account the pluses of Sam's bitch-fit. They weren't going anywhere, so they actually had a night off. That hardly ever happened. And now Dean was driving for no reason, just because he wanted to, because he hated to sit still and he loved his baby. He rubbed his hand over the dash affectionately, smiling to himself. He thought, having the Impala, was kind of like having a dog - it was part of the family and he liked to treat it right.

He didn't want to go back to the motel just yet, and sit around his moping brother who would no doubt want to know what Dean's malfunction was. And Dean was absolutely not going to come clean about that - he'd recently convinced himself that it was a phase. He would get over it. So there was no point in going back and driving Sam crazy by refusing to have a heart to heart.

So Dean gazed at the sleepy mid-western town as it rolled by his windows wondering what trouble he could get himself into tonight. He smirked as he saw two pretty girls on the sidewalk, and took the right out of town, wanting to get some fresh air before stopping for dinner. He gunned it once out on the isolated two-lane highway, listening to the Impala roar, fierce as ever. He smiled to himself, feeling for once like the old Dean, like the guy who was unstoppably charming, a hustler, a badass. He turned up the radio.

With his spirits picked up he thought about what he could do to make use of the good mood. Go hustle some pool maybe, get a little spending money in his pocket. Have a few shots down at the local dive. Maybe even get laid -

The Impala sputtered suddenly, jerking Dean with the sudden falter in their previously steady velocity. "Woah, woah," Dean gripped the wheel tight and the whole care shook and groaned. And when thick, white smoke started billowing from the hood, Dean pulled the car over to the curb and put it in park.

"What the Hell?" he turned her off and pulled the lever to pop the hood. He stepped out of the car quickly going to the hood and lifting it, met with another mushroom cloud of impossibly white smoke. Dean coughed, waving his hand in front of his face and squinting down at the engine. As the smoke dissipated Dean hoped he would see the problem right away, but the longer he looked, the more confused he became. He checked everything. And then he want to the ignition, tried to turn the engine over and was met with a terrible high-pitched whining. So he went back under the hood and checked everything again.

He was baffled.

He knew this car inside and out. He'd rebuilt it, practically from scratch. There was no problem on this Earth he couldn't fix when it came to the Impala. And yet, here he was, on the side of the road with no friggin' clue as to why it had crapped out on him.

Dean kicked the tire out of frustration - Just one more thing...

He reached into the car and pulled out his cell phone, flipping it open. His brow furrowed and he looked off to the distance - no reception? His gaze fixed on the cell tower not a mile and a half away. They'd just been on this road earlier, and reception was fine then. He opened and closed the phone a few times, finding it had no effect on the lack of signal. Angrily he chucked the useless technology back into the car.

Perfect, he thought. He stood there a long time, leaning against the side of the car, knowing he should have a plan of action. He pretended to be waiting for another car to pass by so he could ask for some help; but in reality, Dean loathed the idea. Asking for help with his car, from some stranger, like a friggin' civilian yuppie? No way. He was too proud. He even put the hood back down, so it wouldn't look like he was having car trouble.

Stupid, he thought. What are you gonna do - stand here all night?

"Yep," he answered himself stubbornly.

But then, with impeccable timing, his stomach growled. He peered in the back window thinking maybe one of Sam's protein bars was still hanging around back there, but all he saw were maps and take-out wrappers.

He sighed, leaning back against the car. Perfect...

No car, no cell, no way he was gonna stand here all night without anything to eat. Guess we're walkin'.

Dean closed up the windows and locked the car, stowing his keys in his pocket and headed off down the road, back towards town. Suddenly there was an earth shattering crash that made him throw his arms up over his head and turn his eyes to the sky. Off down the road, on the horizon in the direction he needed to travel, was a low-hanging black cloud. Dean looked behind him - nothing but blue sky for miles. He turned back toward his destination, thinking briefly that he could weather the storm no problem, before a crack of thunder shook the street and a bolt of lighting struck on the hill in the distance.

"Holy crap," he muttered and turned back to the car, and couldn't hep but feel like he was being herded.

The broken down car (that he knew for a fact was in mint condition), the cell phone that suddenly couldn't pick up a signal from a tower that was a mile away, the very isolated storm - the hair raised on the back of Dean's neck. Maybe he wasn't out there alone. Maybe something was trapping him.

He had a trunk full of weapons and a crap-ton of know-how, sure... but he was in the middle of nowhere with no back-up and nowhere to hide. Bad thing about the midwest - parts of it are damn flat and tree-less. No woods for Dean to hide in, no place for him to lay low. What could he do but stay there like a sitting duck?

Friggin' perfect.

But then he had palm-to-face moment of "duh". He knew exactly what to do.

Castiel.

A shiver rolled down his spine - Damn it, stop that!

He shook his head a little harder than necessary as if trying to get water out of his ears, and took a deep breath. His heart was already beating faster -

Oh stop it.

He closed his eyes and bowed his head, shoving his hands in his pockets, "Dear Castiel,"

Dear? "Dear" Castiel? Are you friggin' serious? Who starts a prayer with "Dear"?What're you writing him a love letter? Get it right, Dean!

"Uh..." he cleared his throat, "Cas, I'm uh... kinda stranded here and I'd love it,"

Love it? You'd love it? Jesus, man! Pull it together!

"Or uh, I mean I could use a little help-"

"Hello Dean."

Dean's eyes shot open to see an all too serene Castiel standing before him.

"Wow... I mean, uh, that was damn fast."

"I heard you call. What seems to be the problem?"

"Why does there have to be a problem? I mean, I could just be checking in you know. Saying... yo."

Real smooth...

Castiel tilted his head and Dean's heart jumped into his throat, an expected reflex for the Hunter at this point. But then Cas fixed his eyes on Dean's chest.

Oh God, not this again.

Cas almost smiled. Almost. It was barely an expression at all, but Dean didn't miss it. He wished he could see it again.

"So there is no problem then?" Cas asked, though Dean could swear he knew the answer already.

"Well, uh, there might be."

"Might?"

"My car crapped out on me all the sudden. She doesn't do that. She is, very reliable."

"She?"

"Yeah. Cars and boats, ya know?"

"I'm sorry?" Castiel asked sincerely not following Dean's erratic train of thought.

"My dad always taught me, cars and boats - they're always ladies."

"They're inanimate, they have no gender," he stated with confusion.

And damn if that befuddled look wasn't the cutest - Damn it! Stop it!

"Anyway," Dean cleared his throat loudly. "It's just, out of the ordinary and I couldn't reach Sam and then there's the freak dry lightning," he turned toward the storm to show Castiel the impending doom in the sky, but instead found the sky was bluer than ever. A few cotton-white clouds sliding by at their leisure. "What the...?"

Castiel looked at Dean expectantly.

"There was a storm, there was! I saw it. It shook the friggin' ground, I thought I was gonna get electrocuted."

"Well, it appears to have gone now," Castiel offered calmly.

And there it was again, an almost-smile. Dean couldn't stop staring, as if he was afraid he'd miss another one of Castiel's vexing expressions. A long silent moment stretched between them, and Dean was oblivious.

"Dean?"

"What?... Oh! Yeah. What Cas?"

"You seem distracted."

"Tsh, no," he denied lamely.

"Shall I transport you home?"

"Um, yeah, I guess. Hate to leave my car here on the side of the road, ya know?"

"Hmm," Castiel looked the car over, seeming to consider something in depth. He stepped up to the vehicle and, having no sense of boundaries, stood uncomfortably close to Dean. Castiel looked down at the Impala, obviously thinking hard, and seemed not to notice that his shoulder was brushing against Dean's.

All Dean could do was notice - he couldn't stop noticing. He slid ever so slightly toward the Angel, almost without realizing he was doing it, so their shoulders would touch more.

Castiel laid his palms flat to the car's hood.

"You know you'll smudge the-"

Suddenly Dean was on his ass, in the dirt on the side of the road, his car nowhere to be seen. His eyes darted around, "What - what the?"

"She is back at your motel," Cas informed Dean, taking special care to say she instead of it.

Dean looked up at the angel looming over him, the sky bright behind his head, outlining him in a way that had Dean wondering if he was a mirage and realizing very pointedly that Cas was in fact, sent from Heaven. Cas reached down his hand and Dean was breathless as he took it and the angel pulled him up to standing.

"Thanks Cas," it came out rougher than he wanted, and he cursed his vocal chords for being so easily effected.

Cas nodded curtly, before raising two fingers to Dean's forehead. But Dean jerked away before Cas could make contact. He looked at Dean, uncertain.

"Not my favorite method of travel, Cas."

"Regardless, it is the only method available to you at this moment." He sounded a little short, as though Dean turning down the offer to be zapped back to the motel had hurt his feelings and now he was irritated. "Of course you could walk-"

"No," the last thing Dean wanted was for Cas to feel like he didn't give a crap about him, like he didn't appreciate everything he'd done for him. "No, I'll go with you. Thanks, you know, for showing up."

"Of course," it was a short, business-like response that Dean strained to read into. But there wasn't much there to work with, and his heart sank because of it, even as he told himself to grow a pair.

Then Cas came in close, so close that Dean could smell him, could feel the warmth of his body through their clothes and through the three inches of air separating them. He stopped breathing, his heart pounded wildly.

"Dean?"

Dean's voice barely scratched out as a whisper, "Yeah?"

"There's no need to be afraid."

Again, Cas had mistaken the meaning of Dean's pounding heart. Dean stated, "I'm not."

"I've done this to you many times."

You know what else you'd like him to do to you many times...

Dean let out a sudden, sputtered laugh. It bubbled up from his chest and out of his mouth beyond his control. At Castiel's confused expression, Dean ducked his head embarrassed, "Sorry." He cleared his throat.

"Ready?" Cas asked, his voice deep.

Dean nodded. And then Cas' hands slid slowly up Dean's arms to his biceps, gripping him tight. And Dean didn't have time to think about how unnecessary the touch was before it felt like the floor had been dropped out beneath him. Before he had time to stumble at the disorienting feeling, he opened his eyes and he was in the motel.

But Dean barely took in the sight of the motel at all, because when he opened his eyes, all he saw was blue. All he saw was Cas.

Cas was standing close, blue eyes examining Dean as if to be sure he wouldn't faint. His hands were still strong, vice-like, on Dean's arms, and Dean didn't bother to try to shrug him off. The force of it, the weight of the hold, it actually felt good.

Push him away.

Dean was entirely trapped in Castiel - his eyes, his grip...

Push him off. Say something! What're you doing?

Dean's heart beat wildly as his own hands raised, almost without his permission, from hanging limply at his sides to touching lightly the fabric of Castiel's trench coat.

Dean! What the Hell are you doing!

With one hand his fingers curled in the over-starched jacket as if he were afraid it would disappear. Dean's other hand moved towards Cas' abdomen until he could feel the fabric of Cas' white dress shirt on the back of his hand. He pressed the backs of his fingers into the warmth and solidity of Cas' body, wishing to turn his hand around and run his fingers up Cas' torso and chest...but he didn't act on it.

He does feel Cas' grip tighten almost imperceptibly on his biceps.

Cas looked at Dean with a new kind of fascination and Dean was immediately addicted to the look.

Cas stepped in even closer, his eyes inhuman in their degree of focus, the blue burning into Dean, disarming him, rendering him utterly defenseless. Dean felt as though he was bolted to the floor - he couldn't have moved if he wanted to. Cas' impossible strength held Dean in place and he felt in that moment like Cas owned him, and he was strangely ok with it.

Holy crap Holy crap Holy crap holy crap -

Cas leaned in, his breath on Dean's lips like oxygen for a drowning man. Dean's eyes slid closed, willing it to happen...

And then there was a gust of wind and the sound of wings and Dean stumbled, dizzy, no longer having Cas there to hold him up. He shivered from the loss of body heat and his eyes flew open to find Cas standing across from him not three feet away, looking terrified.

Dean was about to unload weeks of frustration and confusion on the angel when suddenly the motel door opened and Sam came through. Cas visibly shook off the encounter, looking normal as ever.

Dean's heart ached for a moment, wondering if it was always that easy for Cas to brush Dean off. Being a measly human, Dean didn't find it quite so easy to hide how wound up he was.

Sam took one look at his brother and squinted - Dean's cheeks were flushed, he looked embarrassed and irritated and strangely unsteady on his feet. "Hey," Sam greeted cautiously.

"Hey," Dean returned, trying to fake normalcy. But his voice came out low, rough, and shaky.

"You good?" Sam asked, sensing something was off. "Hey Cas," he added, as an afterthought.

Castiel nodded curtly. Dean deflected attention from himself asking, "Where ya been?"

"Around."

"Wow. Specific."

"Lunch. Library. Scoping out the town. You?"

"Oh, just uh...driving. Ran into some freak car trouble. Cas here helped me out."

"Car trouble? With the Impala? And you needed Cas to fix it?" Sam almost smirked.

"Hey, it was a freak thing! Nothing is wrong with that car. It must have been a curse or a spell or... In fact, I'm checking for hex bags right now." Dean stormed out on a mission to prove his baby's perfection, glad to have a reason to get out of that room.

Sam laughed lightly, shaking his head. "He loves that thing," he mused, smiling.

"It's a her," Cas stated matter-of-factly.

Sam squinted at him.

"I should be going."

"Ok man, be-" and with the sound of wings and a slight breeze, he was gone. Sam muttered to himself, "...safe."

Outside Dean was muttering to himself whilst bending over his front seat to look into the back. He knelt on the seat shoving around the debris on the floor in the back, driver's side door standing ajar to allow for his legs sticking out.

"Dean."

Castiel's voice made Dean jump, and he smacked his head on the ceiling.

Damnit. He extracted himself clumsily from the Impala and looked at Cas with irritation, rubbing his head.

"I have examined you car... her," he added awkwardly, "and I found that it... she, possesses no evidence of witchcraft. You are safe."

Dean was listening. Really he was. Just because his eyes had drifted from Cas' eyes to his lips, and Cas' voice had turned into a non-specific rumble of baritone instead of discernible words didn't mean he wasn't listening. He was just...listening with his eyes... Lipreading would be a good skill to hone, right? That's all he was doing, just lipreading. He wouldn't stare at them - Cas - those - it - him, for no reason.

"Good," Dean stated, straightening up to his full height.

"I need to be going."

Cas' departing statements, if they were lucky enough to receive one at all, were always abrupt. But usually, his departure was just as abrupt. This time he waited after he spoke, looking at Dean as though he were waiting for him to say something back.

Dean's brain went painfully, embarrassingly blank. He just stared at the angel, nodding slightly.

Just as Castiel looked away, avoiding Dean's eye contact, aware of the awkwardness, Dean lunged forward.

He slapped a hand roughly on Castiel's back and said, inexplicably, "Go get 'em buddy!"

Castiel's eyes measured Dean curiously as the man backed away again, stupid grin on his face as he knocked clumsily into his car. Castiel nodded, looking slightly confused, and then was gone.

Dean immediately turned around and thumped his forehead onto the Impala's roof.

What in the Hell was that you friggin' spaz! Buddy? Dude...you need more help than you think. Maybe... maybe this isn't going away...

Dean thumped his head against the shiny black roof repeatedly.

Sexy Dean. Real sexy.

He groaned, feeling like a total moron.

Do you realize what you almost did earlier? Dean picked up his head, folding his arms onto the hood and leaning his chin on his arms. He gazed out into the darkening parking lot, remembering the almost-kiss in painfully accurate detail. Why was it killing him so much that their lips never touched? Was it obvious that he'd wanted them to, so much?

Dean sighed heavily, more confused than ever. He shut the car door weakly and wandered back into the motel room, too preoccupied with the Angel on his shoulder to take note of his brother's obnoxious smirk.

"Going for a shower," Dean muttered. He didn't look up from the carpet until his brother slapped him hard on the ass, using his best Football huddle voice, "You go get 'em buddy."

Dean's cheeks burned scarlet, he looked up at his brother sharply. Sam was on the verge of a laugh, but Dean couldn't think up an excuse for his bizarre behavior in the parking lot (that Sam had obviously witnessed) so he turned and stormed toward the bathroom.

"Dude, what the Hell was that?" Sam called through the door, mocking.

It only took a few minutes of quietly laughing to himself about Dean's girlish blush and weird stammering before he put two and two together.

Sam's eyes went wide - "Holy crap!"

Dean threw open the bathroom door, alarmed and alert, thinking his brother was under attack. "What! What!" He looked Sam over, seeing he wasn't hurt, and scanned the room quickly for enemies. Seeing none, he looked back to his brother, awaiting an explanation.

But Sam could only stare at him, because for the first time when he looked at Dean he tried to see a man that was, if Sam was right, in love with Castiel.

"Sam, what? You ok?" Dean asked, concern creasing his brow at Sam's obvious sudden change in mood and slack-jawed expression.

Sam snapped back to reality, nodding slightly. "Um, yeah. Sorry. There was... I thought... It's nothing."

"Dude, seriously... you need to unwind." Dean went back to the bathroom, shaking his head.

Sam dropped heavily onto his mattress, sitting almost completely still. He had to save all of his energy for his brain, because it was gonna take some thinking to decide how he felt about this. Or at least... he assumed it would. But the more he mulled it over the less surprised he was. He thought maybe he always knew. He wondered, a little sadly, if Dean even realized what was going on with himself.

Of course he does, Sam realized, that's why he's being such an ass.

Ohhhhhhh - now it makes sense.

This was big. Like, Dean might disappear on a bender, Cas might smite someone, the wrath of Heaven could rain down on them (again) kind of big.

And yet, Sam was kind of... happy. And it wasn't just because he was relieved to have figured out what was eating at Dean, though he was. He wasn't sure why, but he was just kind of... smiley, for the rest of the night. And Dean's mocking didn't really get to him that much after that. The bad mood was almost endearing now that Sam understood.

Big brother was in love.

Castiel sat, quietly smirking, on the park bench. His hands were folded neatly at his knees as he squinted out into the night. Today had been... different. He'd had millions of days, but today... today stood out.

It had been a long way to go for a simple few minutes alone with Dean and an excuse to touch him if even for a second, but he felt now that it was worth it. He'd never bothered to manipulate a human quite so severely or specifically - especially for his own selfish purposes. The car, the cell phone, and ultimately the storm...

It was a lot of work for a split second of forced alone time.

But then, hard work was relative. Cas barely needed to snap his fingers for the Impala to stutter and whine, and barely strained an angelic muscle in creating that illusion of a storm. It was too easy,he warned himself. Now you'll be wanting to do such things all the time. Be careful Castiel.

He saw nothing wrong with a little innocent manipulation - many of his brothers were guilty of much worse. All Castiel had done, was make sure that his charge needed him.

If he happened to enjoy it,

well that had nothing to do with anything.

Ok, now you've got me going and I think there needs to be more. I think they're gonna need to kiss at least, right...?