AN: Blanket, blanket spoilers for Fringe Season 3 (if you don't watch Fringe, why not?) Also, just to clarify this is just me poking a little fun at Twilight, no offence is intended (hopefully none has been taken). Personally, I loved the books when I first read them years ago, I just feel the films haven't done them any justice. But the eye candy (read: Taylor Lautner) is delish. That is all.

AN 2: I don't really like writing Original Characters, and this was definitely a challenge for me (I had this great scene planned out with Dean and Ellie and banter (think Rachel from 500 Days Of Summer), but it wouldn't come out right so I just scrapped it and re-wrote the whole thing - that's partly why it took so long for me to update, lol.) Also, unbeta'd so if there are any Americanisms that should be in here, but aren't let me know please!

Drop me a line to let me know what you think please! -C

Dean hops in the car, turns the key and hits the gas without saying a word.

He pretends not to notice the worried looks flicking between Sam and Cas under the pretense of sharing the chocolate chip cookies that Ellie's mom had baked them.

Half an hour later, Dean figures Sam must have had enough of Led Zeppelin because he turns the music off.

Dean starts, ("Did you just touch my radio?") but Sam cuts him off and pulls his Come On Dean, You Are A Grown Up And This Is Serious Business bitchface.

"So….?"

Dean shakes his head and refuses to look anywhere but at the road, "I don't want to talk about it."

"Come on," Sam sighs, "it can't have been that bad."

Dean finally turns to look at his brother, "She made me watch Twilight."

Sam's eyebrows shoot up and he looks constipated so Dean's fairly sure that he's trying his hardest not to laugh.

Cas's question from the backseat startles them both; "Surely the acting is not that bad?"

Sam laughs, "Did Dean experience a feeling?"

Dean knows this is going to be one of those Moments (like when Sam was a kid and going through one of those phases where his hair covered half his face and some old lady had called him 'a pretty little thing'. Sam still wears she was half blind, but whatever, he got a haircut the next weekend), that will haunt him forever.

"Shut up," he says, resisting the urge to smack his brother.

"Did you get all emotional," Sam continues, "and-"

"She basically outlined the parallels between the scenarios of Twilight and our situation," Dean says then looks at his brother sharply, daring him to say a word.

"My mouth is firmly closed," Sam says grinning insanely, "not funny at all—I get it."

"So, apparently, I'm Bella and Cas is Edward."

Sam laughs.

Dean looks at him, "I don't know why you're laughing, dude, she said you were Jacob."

"What else did she say?" Sam says, because it's suddenly not funny when the shoe's on the other foot. Bitch.

"Nothing," Dean shrugs, "it wasn't a big deal; we just chatted a bit." And so, yeah, maybe he was the one that came out of there acting like the world had ended, but that's not the point.

"She didn't ask you why you were there?" Castiel asks. "Or if you had anything to ask her?"

"Yeah," Dean says, "she did, but there's nothing I want to know; I mean it's obvious we already get my soul back, I don't want to know when I die."

Sam shakes his head with a look on his face like he just saw Dean kick a small animal, "Can you pull over here—I wanna pick up some lunch."

Sam climbs out and Dean turns round to face Cas, "Come on, let's sit outside while we wait—it's a nice day out."

He leans against the trunk and pats the space next to him, inviting Cas to sit there. Dean doesn't think Cas realizes what an honor it is, since if it was anyone other than them Sam or Bobby who dared put their ass on his car—they'd be in trouble.

Dean watches Sam lope off to buy a salad and then turns to the angel, "Do you think that was really worthwhile?"

Cas turns his head slowly to scrutinize him, "You do not think talking to the Prophet has helped."

Dean shrugs and taps his fingers irregularly on the hood of his car, "She's only a kid still."

"She told you what you needed to hear," Cas says resolutely, "She's not Chuck, her task is not to focus on your past. She sees everything."

"Kinda a lot for a kid to handle, don't you think?"

"What I think is irrelevant," this time Cas shrugs, and his attention is on his fingers splayed out on the hood, like he has to watch them to make sure they don't wander over to Dean, "She would not have been given the gift if she was not strong enough."

Dean thinks back to Chuck's drinking and the dark circles under Ellie's eyes and privately disagrees.

"So what did she tell you that you didn't tell Sam?" Cas asks, finally looking at him.

Dean squints at him, "What makes you think I didn't tell him everything?"

"Because I know you."

And fair enough; he's right and Dean can't argue with that, "Let's see—the whole 'Forbidden Love' aspect makes it 'soo more romantic' and she hopes you don't wait three more books to put out."

"I will not," Cas promises in a grave tone, like Dean's just asked him not to scratch his car, but his eyes are glinting a wicked blue and the disparity between the two is just too much.

Dean cannot handle this shit anymore and, just, what do you even say to that?

So he rambles, because it's easier than thinking about him and Cas and the complete lack of personal space that they exhibit, like that scene where Ellie (who had fast forwarded through most of the film) hit play just in time for Dean to hear Edward say, 'I don't have the strength to stay away from you any more' and Bella to reply, 'Well don't' and even though they're sitting down, they still manage to be all up in each other's faces. Like him and Cas now, leaning on the hood of his car, and there's miles of shiny metal between them but then Cas's hand is in the middle of it, a stark contrast to the black (like an oasis in a desert or a lone star in the night sky), all splayed out—wide and welcoming and ready for Dean to just grasp.

"So I said to her, 'Wait, what do you know about relationships?' You know this kid is only about fourteen right? And then she said, 'More than you think, I had to dump my boyfriend last week, he was too clingy.'

"Then she looked at me like I was, I don't know, her sorority sister or something and said, 'I don't do clingy.' What am I supposed to say to that Cas?"

"Dean whatever she told you, she told you for a good reason." Cas says and suddenly, Castiel's hand has snuck across the bonnet to shyly grasp Dean's and squeeze it reassuringly. It's more comforting than he'd like to admit.

Dean shakes it off after a couple of seconds under the pretense of scratching the back of his neck.

"What's taking Gigantor so long?" Dean gripes, "He only went to buy a salad, not terrorize a small village."

They turn around to face the store just in time to see Sam go crashing through the glass door and land on the small pieces scattered about on the 'Welcome' mat. Three bulky men in rumpled suits, all with black eyes, step through the Sam shaped hole and walk towards his sprawled out body, ready to finish kicking the shit out of him.

Cas and Dean turn to look at each other and nod, "Demons."

Dean races round to the back of the Impala to grab a gun and Cas walks up to the men like he only wants to ask them directions to the nearest Target instead of, you know, ganking them.

Dean would think it was pretty hot, but he's busy loading his shotgun and taking more rounds and the demon killing knife out the trunk.

He runs to check on his brother, keeping his shotgun up and ready so he's ready to back up Cas if it comes to it, "Sammy? Can you hear me?"

Sam's eyes are unfocused and he's gritting his teeth which means that something is dislocated, fractured or broken.

By the time Cas is done killing the demons, five more appear. Today is not a good day.

"Remind me why we do this again," San says as he snatches the knife off Dean and lopes off to find himself some demon to kill. Impressively, he manages two in the time it takes Dean to shoot the other three and pin one down who was hiding behind a dumpster.

"Who are you working for?" Dean asks, pushing the demon to the floor and training the muzzle of his shotgun on him.

The demon groans and rolls over.

"Are you sure we should be doing this now?" Sam asks looking around the parking lot to the store, which isn't exactly empty. "Maybe we should take this elsewhere."

"I don't really want that thing in my car."

Castiel comes over to them and agrees with Sam, the treacherous bastard, "Sam is right. This is not the place to interrogate him."

Dean looks at Sam who shrugs, "Let's tie him up."

Dean rolls his eyes and gestures with his shotgun, "Up." The demon scrambles to stand at the side of the Impala while Sam digs some rope out the trunk.

"See Cas?" Dean says, keeping the shotgun pointed at the demon, "This is why Prophets always get the wrong idea about us—tying up men and taking them back to our room.

Cas nods, pushing the demon into the passenger seat and then following behind. "I see."

"Don't hurt me," the demon says fearfully, then waits a beat, "or at least—no permanent damage. You guys are the good ones aren't you?"

Dean just looks at the demon incredulously, "I'm sorry, what?"

The demon shrugs as well as he can with his hands tied behind his back. Dean makes a mental note to tighten the ropes. "I'm supporting a wife and three kids."

"Ha freakin' ha," Dean says, "we caught a demon with a conscience."

Sam looks up from his laptop where he's hacking into the national car registration database. Dean managed to pop his shoulder back into its socket, but his arm is resting in a sling, "There was no we, Dean, this one—that was all you."

"Shut up," Dean snaps, aware that the demon can hear all of this and it's quite under-mining, "no-one asked you anything."

Sam hums, not listening, and continues tapping away at the keys in a way which is impressive considering he can only use one hand. Castiel is more interested in learning to be a computer hacker than torturing demons so is hovering over Sam's shoulder. Dean likes to think he's more annoyed because Cas should be demon-torturing and not because he's picked to spend quality time with Sam.

"You're a demon, you lie, and you make deals." Dean says, "You don't get married and live in the suburbs."

"I'm trying to turn my life around." The demon says, shaking his head and making his brown curls bounce a little.

Dean rolls his eyes because this isn't a Lifetime Movie, "Why the fuck are you here?"

The demon looks Dean in the eyes, "My kids wanna go to Disneyland; I need the extra money."

"You couldn't make this stuff up," Sam says muffling his laughter behind his laptop.

Dean lifts the gun up like he's going to shoot it but pumps it instead, ejecting the empty shell onto the floor because that's threatening and he's supposed to be torturing the demon, "Why are you here?"

"I told you," the demon protests, "my kids…"

"You think I believe that cockamamie bullshit?" Dean asks, standing over the demon, because it's intimidating. "Tell me the truth."

"That is the truth! I'll tell you who I work for." The demon looks up hopefully, "For a price."

Dean sighs and kicks the demon's knee with the whole force of his boot behind it. There's a loud crack as the steel capping at the end connects with the top of the man's kneecap—there's a hairline fracture there at least.

The demon is panting hard and grimacing with pain, "Or you know, for free."

Dean nods, and doesn't say anything. The only sounds in the motel room are the demon's shuddering breaths and Sam's fingers clacking on the keyboard.

"His name is Adrian," the demon says, "that's all he told me and that's all I know. He paid me and half a dozen other demons 700 dollars each to collect on you."

Dean nods as he walks round the demon to fish his wallet out the back pocket of his jeans (ignoring the fact that he is essentially feeling up another guy's ass and that of all the possible times, this is when Cas turns to stare). True to the demon's word there's a picture of him next to a smiling blond woman and two dark haired children. He pulls out the man's driving license and reads the address on the back.

"You can go," Dean says, because while he is a Hunter he's not a stone cold bastard and if the demon wants to take kids to Disneyland, who is he to stop him? He cuts the ropes around the demon's wrists with the knife he has strapped to his leg and plucks 90 bucks out the wallet, daring the demon to say a word. "Don't come back. Don't contact Adrian, disappear and go back home to your family. Come after me or anyone else in the room?"

The demon nods slowly, carefully, because he understands how much it means that he's been allowed to leave, "And I won't come after you. I'll come after your family.

"Gregory Bar, Apartment 3, 3248 Hastings Avenue, Brooklyn, NY," Dean recites, "Got it?"

Gregory nods, eyes wide, more scared of Dean now than when he was threatening him with the shotgun.

"Wait," Sam says, "how do you know there isn't a person in him still?"

Dean doesn't know how to explain how he knew, and Sam isn't going to come of his case until he has proof so he turns to the demon, "He's dead isn't he?"

Gregory nods, "About ten years now." He tries to get up, but the fracture is more painful than he'd anticipated and he sinks back to the chair.

"Here," Dean unrolls the money he stole from the demon, and hands him a twenty back of his own money, "take a taxi."

"I've got a hit," Sam says turning the laptop round to show Dean the screen, "The license plate is registered to one Adrian Nemod. There's an address too, but I'll think it'll be about as useful as the name."

Dean blinks, "What?"

"Nemod," Sam repeats slowly, "anagram of those dark eyed things we hunt, you know, demons."

Dean chuckles, "Hiding in plain sight now?"

"Apparently so," Sam sighs, "Cas and I'll get some books out the trunk so you can start research on that symbol—I need to set up a reverse image search and then see where to go from there."

Dean settles down for a long afternoon surrounded by books while Sam's hunched over his laptop and Cas is in the corner updating the archangels to their current situation. He looks like he's meditating, but Dean figures the guy's taking a nap because he's been 'updating' the archangels for a good two and a half hours now. Dean's been 'reading' the same page for a good 45 minutes now, but he likes to think, he's been covert in his ogling.

Suddenly a screwed up ball of paper flies past his ear and Dean starts when he realizes Sam's been calling him, "What?"

"You're staring."

Dean shoots him the stink eye as in he's right here in the room, asshole what are you doing?, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Sam looks between his brother and his angel, "Relax. He can't hear us—it's like he's not even here; his consciousness is on a different plane, so it's fine."

"You throw like a girl," Dean says, because he a) he's embarrassed that he got caught ogling and b) there's nothing else he could say to his brother after the amount of bickering they did in the car.

About ten minutes later, Cas blinks and stands up slowly, "It is late; I am going to rent a room now."

Dean pretends to look up from his book, when he'd been watching Cas all along, "You don't need one."

Sam shoots a warning glance his way.

Cas stops halfway between shrugging his coat on and moving towards the door.

"Old habits," he sits down a chair, looking uncomfortable and unsure what to do with himself.

Sam takes pity on him, and walks over to him, taking some bills out his wallet, "Seriously dude, go and get one. Dean's probably gonna break out the Magic Fingers and that's not something you want to see."

Cas takes the money and smiles at Sam for a moment before walking out the room.

Dean likes to pretend that he's not jealous at the friendship they've got going on. "What'd you do that for?" he says, when the door slams shut.

Sam turns to him, "Because you were being a douche, okay?"

"We're have no money," Dean replies because it's easier to say that than to admit he was being a dick.

"He needs it Dean," Sam says with as much passion as when he complains about the lack of funding for the arts. "His boyfriend's sitting right in front of him being a dick and just refusing to acknowledge his relationship. This isn't easy on either of you."

"I know," Dean says sinking onto one of the beds. "I just…"

Suddenly, there's an obnoxious pop and Gabriel appears snapping his fingers, "Boys!"

Dean notices that Sam edges away from Gabriel and towards the door, "Back to being an Archangel now?" Dean asks.

"I never stopped," Gabriel grins and turns to Sam, "Hello Gorgeous!"

Sam gulps but nods evenly, "Gabriel."

"You love it really," the Archangel says taking slow steps towards Sam. He frowns, noticing Sam's injured, and snaps his fingers simultaneously healing the damaged shoulder and vanishing the bandage.

"I don't know if I can watch this," Dean grimaces as he watches his brother squirming, but not really trying to get away from Gabriel, "Should I just leave you two to get at it?"

"Yes!" Gabriel says with a leer at the same time Sam says, "No!"

Dean sighs and stands up, "You're here why?"

"We've found your soul," Gabriel says turning back to face Dean, "it's with some sneaky demon in Atlanta so you need to get there. Stat."

"So that's it?" Dean says, "You're just leaving it there?"

Gabriel shrugs, "It's your soul—you go get it."

He looks at Sam again and licks his lips, "Tigerrr."

Dean shakes his head, resigned, "So, what? You say jump and what? We say how high?"

Gabriel smirks at him, "Yes. It's there: go get it."

"Atlanta's, what, 750 miles away?" Sam asks.

"738 actually, though I'm not one scale anything down," Gabriel turns slowly on the spot to face Sam and rakes his eyes over him, "My God, I do hope you are proportionate."

"That's just under 12 hours of driving!" Dean says, because he's pretending the conversation between these two is not happening, and if it is—he can't hear it.

"That's just less than a two hour flight," Sam suggests and then looks at Dean.

Dean shakes his head furiously, "I don't want my soul back that much. We're driving there."

"Can't you just take us there?" Sam says to Gabriel.

"Close but no cigar," Gabriel says, pulling a lollipop out his pocket and sucking it enthusiastically.

"What?" Sam looks confused, but more distracted at what Gabriel's doing with his candy.

Dean nods, "The words coming out your mouth don't make any sense."

"Not the way it works," Gabriel shrugs, then offers some of his lollipop to Sam, "do you want a suck? If you don't like it, I've got a bigger one in my-"

Sam blushes, stutters and (more importantly, doesn't say no) Dean rolls his eyes, "Fuck my life."