Author's note: This chapter is finally going to have another point of view. Don't worry, the plot is going forward... a little.

*cough* could use a bit more reviews *cough*

I don't own anything.

Immediately after the door had closed behind Sherlock and John, Sam finished his tea and stood up.

"I'm going to get our stuff from the hotel and check out. No need to pay for two rooms when we stay here".

"Don't talk to strangers, Samantha" Dean replied, still busy with his tea, while Cas simply nodded.

Sam gave Dean a look that made it clear he expected his brother to talk to their friend while he was gone. They had both noticed that Cas had dark rings under his eyes and that he'd once again lost some weight in the last few weeks; the former angel still found it difficult to get used to being human, and now and then they had to remind him that he needed food and sleep.

Dean barely restraint himself from rolling his eyes, but gave him an almost imperceptible nod and Sam left.

The hunter sighed and turned around to look at Cas, who had gone in the kitchen to refill his cup and was fascinated by the kettle. He knew why Sam wanted him to talk to the ex-angel; somehow, he and Cas had always had a "more profound bond" (as Mr. I-am-going-to-empty-their-tea-stash would undoubtedly have put it, Dean preferred the more conventional "He is my best friend") than Cas and Sam, but that didn't mean he was particularly fond of heartfelt conversations.

"Dean, do you think Sherlock and John would mind if I made some more tea?"

Dean blinked. While he had seen Cas emptying the kettle, he hadn't thought he knew how to make tea.

"No, don't think so. You need help?"

"I know how to handle a tea kettle, Dean."

"Have you ever used one before?"

Cas thought, or rather pretended to think about it for a moment (Dean knew for a fact that he'd certainly never made tea before) and finally replied, "I watched John make tea".

Dean knew better than to argue with him – Cas couldn't do much damage with a kettle – and watched his first attempt at making tea.

He managed, but he certainly needed much more time than John had. Probably had something to do with the doctor being British.

Once Cas was sitting beside him on the couch again – Dean had declined his offer of another cup, he really would have preferred coffee – the hunter cleared his throat.

"Cas" he started, unsure of how to proceed.

The former angel's blue eyes stared into his green ones.

"Yes, Dean?"

"I couldn't help but notice – you didn't sleep again, did you."

Cas stared into his cup. "You know I do not like sleeping".

"It doesn't matter whether you like it or not, you need to rest, Cas". Dean said, exasperated. Castiel might already have been a human for several months when he finally found them, but he was still convinced that he should be able to control his body. Barely two months ago, he had collapsed during a hunt because he had forgotten to drink enough.

The smaller man sighed "I know" before adding stubbornly "I am feeling fine, though".

"I know you do. For the time being. But you have to promise me you'll get some rest when this is over, right?"

Cas nodded. It wasn't much, but it was something, and Dean finished his tea. He would never get used to the stuff, couldn't deny that it had woken him up, however.

"So what did you do all night anyway? Counting the stars? Reciting Neanderthal poetry?"

"I was talking to Sherlock."

Oh?" Dean didn't know what to say. The consulting detective didn't seem like a bad person, but he certainly wasn't one for talking much. And he'd hardly looked concerned when they had told him about shooting his brother.

"His experiments are very interesting. For example, he injected sulphuric acid into a sample of –"

"Thanks, man" Dean hastened to interrupt him, "I'll just imagine the gory details". He sure as hell wasn't easily grossed out, but he would rather not hear about Frankenstein's experiments if he didn't have to. "So what did you two talk about? You said you talked."

Cas bit his lip and Dean realized his friend was uncomfortable sharing.

"It's alright if you don't want to tell me" he said, trying to pretend he wasn't hurt (he was a guy, for God's sake, he shouldn't be hurt because a friend refused to tell him everything he did) but not quite succeeding, if Cas' face was anything to go by.

"That is not the problem" the former angel answered honestly. "I am just not sure if Sherlock would be comfortable with me divulging the topics of our conversation".

Another pause followed. Dean was just about to assure him that really it wasn't any of his business and that they definitely should start putting salt everywhere when Cas continued, "It was surprisingly easy."

"Come again?" Dean asked. He had seen Cas do many things he'd never done before since he'd returned to them – had even taught him to drive his baby – but he couldn't remember that he'd ever called anything "easy" before.

"Talking to Sherlock was surprisingly easy. As you know, I find it difficult to talk to hu – other people. They use too many words they don't mean, hide their true meaning behind other words, are nice to people they hate and not nice to people they like. It is very confusing". The ex-angel stared once again at his by now only half-full cup and added, "Sherlock, though – he is different. He doesn't see the necessity of social conventions either. He tells you what he thinks about you to your face. I did not have to pretend I knew anything about consoling or being there for someone and could just – talk."

Dean swallowed. He had known Cas felt uncomfortable with social interactions, had always done. It was another thing, however, to hear him talk about it.

"I did not mean that you do not understand me, Dean" Cas said decidedly, "It was just – different. That is all".

Dean nodded, reassured.

"He is not as indifferent as you might think him to be" Cas said suddenly. Thankfully Dean was used to his quick changes of topic, so he caught on.

"Sherlock? Didn't strike me as the most caring guy we've ever met".

"He doesn't show it, but he worries about his brother. He knew something was wrong before we showed up. Otherwise, he would not have believed us so easily."

That was enough for Dean. If Cas said he'd spoken to Sherlock the whole night and that he understood him and knew him to be worried, he wasn't going to question.

"Right. So – " Cas' eyes darted away too quickly and he demanded, "What aren't you telling me?"

"I – I told him that we could kill Moriarty if we burnt his bones, but that his brother would die as well".

"Why would you do that? Shooting at him is one thing, but killing him – "

"He asked" the ex-angel answered simply, "and he understands that it might be the only way to stop him."

"Good, Cas. If you say it's okay – " The hunter wasn't so sure – this was still Sherlock's brother they were talking about, and the other man had said he cared about Mycroft – but he would have to trust his angel on that one.

Having decided that this was more than enough chick-flick talk for a day – or a week – or a month – Dean stood up and walked into the kitchen.

"Sherlock didn't happen to show you where they keep the salt?"

"No" Cas replied completely serious, "I don't think he knows. John is the more domestic one of the two".

Dean decided to let this comment slide and went through the cupboards (good God, the guy sure kept weird equipment in his kitchen drawers) before he found enough salt to secure the place.

"Hope Sammy soon gets back with the spray cans. We have to paint the sigils".

"We probably should do it in front of Mrs. Hudson's door, too" Cas said. "By the looks of it, she's more or less family to Sherlock and John, and Moriarty will know that".

Dean nodded – he had grown quite fond of the old lady himself, she made one hell of a pie – and started to seal of the kitchen window with salt while Cas began working on the living room.

Sam came back ten minutes later, putting the bags on the floor.

"Hey. You got everything?"

"No. I left it in the hotel" Sam replied sarcastically before handing Dean a spray can. "You get started on the house door. I'll help Cas here".

Dean answered the unspoken question if their friend was alright with a nod and went down.

"Cas – " he started, but the ex-angel surprised him.

"I assure you that Dean already talked with me about my sleeping habits and that I am doing fine, however you should probably be aware that Sherlock knows about the possibility of burning Moriarty's bones".

"Okay" Sam said, slowly. He doubted Cas had tried to make the news easier for Sherlock in any way – not because he didn't want to, but because he didn't know how – and yet that might have been exactly what the consulting detective had needed. Sherlock was strange, but also seemed like a no-nonsense kind of guy, and he certainly hadn't treated them any differently this morning. Plus he had John. It was always good to have a friend at times like these.

"They should be back soon" he continued, "according to John's blog, Sherlock is rather quick to pick up clues at crime scenes. And this time he already knows who did it."

Cas nodded while finishing the last window sill in the living room.

"I'm going to take care of Sherlock's room" he said.

"Alright. I'm probably going to try and find out where Moriarty's buried. Even if we don't want to kill him – not yet – we can use them as leverage. If we call him and we have his bones, he'll have to show up."

"Sherlock told me where they are. Since he did so, I assume he knows there aren't any microphones in the kitchen; he didn't mention it this morning, so he's probably not sure about the living room. We'll ask him when he gets back".

With these words, Cas went into Sherlock's room – Sam hadn't even known this door went to Sherlock's room, the ex-angel must have paid better attention when John had explained where the different rooms were located – and the younger Winchester looked after him, slightly bemused. Obviously finding someone, albeit a rather weird someone, he understood and who understood him on a level no one else did had done Cas some good.

Dean came up again a few minutes later and, since Sam had decided he would try and find out more about Moriarty than what was standing in his file – mainly by going through the newspaper articles that had turned up proclaiming Sherlock to be a fraud – in the hope that a better understanding of their enemy could help them defeat him, took the rest of the salt up to John's room, but not before asking, "Did you – "

"Yeah. Said he had already talked to you".

"Yes. We did."

"Seems he and Sherlock get along quite well, huh?"

Who would have known? The genius and the angel. Just so you know, though, if Cas starts juggling around chemicals I'm going to shoot him".

The brothers laughed and went back to their respective tasks.

Sherlock and John came back a few minutes later. They quickly told them about the sigils and their plan.

"I know where Moriarty is buried" Sherlock said slowly, and John exclaimed, "You never told me that – "

"Mycroft told me after I came back. As some sort of apology, I imagine. Anyway, we have to move fast. I suggest we go get them tonight."

"Where are they? Cas didn't tell us that" Dean said.

"It will be safe to show you".

The elder Winchester had to accept that answer; Sam moved to the bag and pulled out two necklaces with small symbols carved into their pendants.

"Wear these; they'll protect you from possession".

Sherlock nodded thanks, took both, put one on and gave John the other one.

"So we wait?" the doctor asked after he'd put the necklace under his shirt.

"Yes" Sherlock confirmed and his friend nodded before answering "I am going to make tea".

Cas' eyes lit up and Dean suppressed a sigh.

He was going on a coffee binge as soon as they returned home.

Author's note: So I might have lied about the plot. I am obsessed with character interactions, I fear.

I hope you liked it, please review.