Four: The Stalker

Yankton, South Dakota

Clif ran as fast as his legs could carry him.

His heart was thumping hard against his chest, rattling at his rib cage like it wanted to get out. He heard the footsteps, muffled and ominous and following him swiftly as he ran. He could see a dead end coming up. Taking a deep breath, he jumped into an alley, praying, praying, and…

Fuck. Another dead end.

The street lights flickered and Clif eyed the abandoned building before him and the fire escape and was preparing to jump again when he saw them. His assailants rounded into the alley, faces obscured in the darkness, knives making silver reflections in the moonlight. Heart thumping even worse than before, Clif didn't think twice as he leapt onto the fire escape, swinging forward to climb it.

Instantaneously, a hand pulled at his ankle. "Not so fast, Daniels."

The voice was hoarse, strange, and Clif struggled, screaming when a blade tore into his flesh. Another hand joined the first. Clif kicked at them both, yelling again. "HELP!"

"No one's going to hear you here."

Clif shivered at the voice. Blood was wetting his foot now, warm and syrupy, and the pain made itself evident as the hands came back to grip at him. One finger pressed at his wound and he gave out another cry, resisting when another pair of hands started pulling him down.

"Don't fight," said the second man. "You're not going to escape."

Clif wanted to do all in his power to prove him wrong, but as he tugged harder, he could feel his strength drain. The knife came back to his calf, piercing into him. He screamed for a third time.

His attackers laughed. "Oh, I love it so much when these little bitches yell like that," one of them said.

The other person chuckled in agreement. "Has to be my favourite bit, too." He got serious, then, and yanked at Clif again. "Come on, Daniels, just give in."

The pain was excruciating, and in the battle of two-against-one, Clif knew he was losing. But the hands pulled at him relentlessly and his palms were sweating, and…

"No, no, AAAH—" He was down on the ground, a bone on his right arm letting out a crack at the impact, and nausea filled his senses as the two men closed in on him. The knives shone again, the air hopeless and dank, and the last thing Clif saw was the faces of his opponents as they leered down at him.

~o~

Sioux Falls, South Dakota

"Well, if it isn't my favourite boys!"

"Mo!"

Dean bent over to hug the old lady and then moved so his husband and brother could do the same. Maureen Winters had been a part of their life ever since they'd moved in with Bobby, and her diner had been their favourite. Even Bobby, in all his ornery glory, had to admit that the pancakes here were the fluffiest he'd ever had.

Mo directed them to a table, summoning over a young waitress and smiling at them before giving her their orders. "Dean will have the complete breakfast plate with a short stack, and he likes fried eggs. Sam will have an omelette with toast and sausages, and Castiel will eat another short stack with sausages. And get them all some fresh coffee." She turned around, and Dean beamed at how she always remembered their orders.

"You just get younger, Mo," he told her.

"Oh, you stop with that flattery, dear," she said, drawing up a chair and sitting with them at the table. "How's everything going?"

"It's all great," Sam replied. "We're really great."

Dean glanced at Cas, placing a hand on his thigh, and he couldn't agree more with his brother. Last night had been a dreamy, ecstatic night of feeling Cas's body against him, holding him close and kissing him everywhere, listening to him gasp and call out Dean's name and bite his lips and sigh and marvel in just how hot his husband was. They'd cuddled after, followed by the best sleep he'd gotten in months, before a repeat of last night's activities in the morning, amounting to some of the best sex he'd had. And they'd had a nice talk for an hour before they got here, him and Sam and Cas, about this and that and everything, and Dean just felt happiness and love for his family enter his entire being, soak through his pores. He had two people in his life; just two. Sure, he had friends and then he had friends who were like family but Sam and Cas were his actual family and he'd never loved them more.

So of course, he couldn't be more contented than this.

He cleared his throat and glanced at Mo, ignoring Sam's funny gaze at him and embarrassed at the dreamy pictures in his head. "It's going great, Mo." He meant it, and damn, he felt like he was really high on some happy drugs, but he really meant it.

"That's nice to hear, hon." She smiled kindly at Cas. "So when am I getting an autograph from you?"

Cas coloured a little and bowed his head. "Anytime, Maureen. You don't even have to ask."

She laughed at that, and they continued their conversation, their talk moving on to Sam's job and wellbeing and Dean's diner and Cas's fan base, and it was like all the times they'd been here, like all the times they came to see her. Dean had missed this; missed Mo and Bobby's house and how this place always kept him happy, no matter what. It was like magic for him.

It wasn't long before their orders arrived and Mo got up. "You kids enjoy your meals," she said, "I'll be inside. And as such," she winked at Cas and Dean, "there are things going on here that need more privacy anyway."

Dean removed his hand from Cas's thigh like an electric current had passed through him. "Mo!"

"I'm just kidding, dear," she said. "Anyway, I should go. I need to catch up on the news about that whole murder thing."

Sam, who was picking up his fork, stiffened in his seat, as Dean got similarly alert. He could see Cas lean forward from the corner of his eye.

"What?" Sam asked Mo. "Murder?"

"Happened at Yankton early this morning," she said, sounding surprised that they didn't know. "They found the man's body around five. Didn't you hear?"

Dean sighed. "You know we're all isolated, Mo."

"That's why I say you should move closer to civilisation," she said. "Check it on your phones—or whatever it is you kids do. They think it's the Creature. It's the same as the rest of the murders. Same kind of victim, too, they say."

Dean let out a breath. "What, the FBI is here again? Dammit."

"Why, hon, is there a problem?"

"No, no problem." He tried to sound as convincing as possible, but the FBI was a fucking problem, to both him and Cas. Mo couldn't know that. "It's just… lotsa people getting killed."

"Yes, they are, aren't they? You kids watch your backs."

"Yeah, we will," Dean told her, picking up a piece of his bacon. "Don't worry about us."

She laughed as she retreated to the backroom. "That's the funniest thing I've heard all year!"

"What, that we can take care of ourselves?"

"No," she replied, poking her wrinkled face out, "you kids expecting me not to worry about you."

And she was gone, leaving Dean's heart warm, even though he knew what he'd heard just now from Mo couldn't mean good things for him and Cas at all. Because Yankton was just a few miles away. And Henriksen was going to come back to fuck things up again and Dean could bet his Impala on that.

~o~

Tyngsborough, Massachusetts

"Where is your client? Castiel Winchester?"

Henriksen folded his arms as he sat peacefully in Marv Jenkins's office, watching the short man's face constrict in disapproval.

"I can't tell you that," Marv told him. "These things are confidential."

"This is an FBI investigation. Give me the details I ask for, or I'll ruin your ass. We have a murder suspect working for you and I want his details now," Henriksen told him, leaning forward. "Do you understand me?"

Marv sighed. "Okay. Fine. You don't have to threaten me. Castiel is gone with his husband and brother-in-law to South Dakota."

"Where in South Dakota?"

"Sioux Falls."

"Thank you." Henriksen was exiting the overdone office when his phone began to ring. Seeing that it was from work, he picked it up. "Belle," he addressed his colleague. She was helping him from their Boston field office.

"I have news for you, Victor."

"Tell me."

"There's been another murder."

"Where?"

"Yankton, South Dakota."

Henrikson stopped short in his tracks. "Say that again?"

"Yankton," Belle replied. "South Dakota."

"And how far is that from…" He shut his eyes a moment to remember. "Sioux Falls?"

"Give me a minute."

"Sure."

He waited, sliding his free hand into his pocket, when Belle came back on the line. "About eighty-nine miles," she said. "A ninety-minute drive."

He clenched his fists. He shouldn't have let them get away. "I'm going there."

"Yankton?"

"Yes, and then Sioux Falls."

"Are you going to tell me why?"

"I will. Can the arrangements be made? To get there from Yankton, I mean? I'll do Sioux Falls on my own. I have a hunch. Don't tell anyone."

"We confirmed the Winchesters had alibis, Victor. You interviewed them all. I personally think this Fergus McLeod, though…"

Henriksen flinched at the name, remembering Crowley's wink. "He – He…" He cleared his throat. "We can't take him off the list, but at least he's definitely still in town right now."

"Keep your mind open."

"I know. I will. Just get me to Yankton."

"Of course. I'll have someone talk to you in a bit."

"Thanks." He disconnected the phone, clenching his fist as he pocketed it. "I've got you, you murdering bastards."

~o~

Sioux Falls, South Dakota

Sam did not expect Dean to ask him too much about what was going on with Jess, but unluckily for him, it came up. Morning drifted lazily into noon and despite the news from hours before, they'd all relatively stabilised. Dean had wanted to head back home, of course, before Henriksen found out they were here, but Sam had stopped him.

"That's a stupid idea," he said. "You and Cas were right here, fast asleep when that man was murdered, and Henriksen will find that out eventually."

"Yeah, I guess…"

Sam grabbed beers from the fridge. "Come on, Dean. We're on a vacation." He handed a bottle to Dean and offered one to Cas, who declined.

"I think I'd prefer to write a little bit."

Sam rolled his eyes. "No work here. You know the rules."

"It's relaxation for me," Cas replied. "I enjoy it. The weather and the place are perfect, and if you don't mind…"

Sam understood and nodded. "All right, Cas. Dean and I are on the porch and—"

"Actually, we're going over to the lake," Dean interrupted him. "So we'll take a bit."

"The lake?" Sam was confused.

"Yeah," Dean told him. "Grab the whole beer case, and Cas, sure you don't wanna come along?"

Cas nodded, stood on his toes, and kissed Dean's lips. "You go ahead."

"Okay."

This was how Sam and Dean had landed up at Lake Alvin, the Impala parked just outside the beach while they sat on the hood of the car. Sam had his sunglasses on and so did Dean as they leaned against the windshield, Dean's guitar resting on his lap. They shared peaceful silence for a few moments, drinking their cool beers in the pleasant warmth of the sun. It wasn't a hot day, but it wasn't cold, either, and the slight breeze felt nice.

Sam found himself rested, placid, until his brother spoke.

"You gonna tell me what's up?"

He turned over to Dean. "What? Nothing."

Dean seemed to struggle with something for a moment, but then he put his bottle down and adjusted himself so he was completely facing Sam. "You know… some things… I realised we haven't talked about them."

"Like?"

"Like…" Dean swallowed. "Like Brady."

Sam froze. Brady. Brady had died last year. His story was over… written out, and…

"Look, I know the crap he pulled and I know it was fucked up between you two…"

Sam could feel his muscles tense, as his whole body stiffened. His mind buzzed and he blinked. "Know what?"

Dean sighed. "I know he was your boyfriend, okay? I don't know why you wouldn't tell me, because it's ridiculous if you thought I'd judge, and you know I—"

"That was three years ago," said Sam, interrupting Dean and refusing to be guilt-tripped by his brother. Dean was ridiculous sometimes. "I met Jess the year after we broke up," Sam maintained. "So?"

"I also know what Brady did."

Sam let out a sharp breath. "He did nothing."

"Sammy."

"Please talk about something else."

"You don't need to keep secrets for me, man, I know."

Dean's voice was low and desperate. A maroon sedan approached on the road behind them and Sam pretended to be interested in it as he turned around, watching it speed away. He didn't want this conversation right now.

"Talk to me." Dean's hand closed around Sam's forearm and Sam flinched so violently that his brother held both his hands up in surrender. "Whoa!"

Sam clenched his fists to keep his reactions in control as he fixed his eyes on the lake. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. It was a stupid relationship," Sam told Dean. "It's over… literally." He paused. "Please change the subject."

"So… so Brady and you…"

"… Have nothing to do with the thing with Jess," Sam clarified, already exhausted by their talk. He didn't want to think about that crap. It had been an atrocity. And Brady… well, honestly, Sam didn't feel so sorry that Brady had died. This was why he'd been pissed at Dean for sympathising with him when he'd lost Brady. But of course, Dean had caught on with that. There was never anything Dean didn't seem to know.

Damn him.

Sam took a deep breath. "Is that why you dragged me to the lake?"

Dean gulped down his beer and shook his head. "No. Been a while since I've pulled your leg without Cas coming to your defence."

"Dean!"

"He's too fond of you," Dean said, making a face. "Doesn't let me have my fun."

"Well, you shouldn't be pulling my leg in the first place," Sam told him.

"Oh, grow up, you big kid." Dean leaned over for a noogie, but Sam pushed him off.

"Don't," he said.

Dean rolled his eyes, and stopped. "Fine."

Sam gestured to the guitar. "Why don't you sing something?"

"No."

"Dean…"

"No, Sammy."

"Then why did you bring it?"

Dean pretended to pout as he folded his arms. "I was going to play something, but now you're being a bitch."

"See, now when you say that to me, I don't care," Sam pointed out. "Why would you say that to Cas?"

"Shut up, Dr Phil."

"Dean." Sam wasn't having any of his shit anymore. Dean cast him a wary eye.

"I got angry, okay?" he said. "And you know I don't call anyone else a bitch. There's only one bitch on this planet." Dean smirked at him.

Sam flipped him off. "Jerk."

"So we good now?" asked Dean. "Wanna feel some more feelings?"

"I think you know I just wanted you to be civil to Cas," Sam told him.

"Yeah, Mom, you made that clear with the big telling-off on our trip here," Dean replied. "I apologised to Cas and he's fucked me at least twice since then, so I think he's cool, too."

"Ew."

"Hey, you brought it on."

"Gross."

"Now can we skip this crap and act like grown-ups, Sam?" asked Dean.

"You were the one who wanted to talk."

"Yeah, and that time has passed."

"So sing."

"No," Dean said again.

Sam loosened, and decided to bring out the ammunition. Giving Dean a sorry glance, he widened his eyes at his brother. Dean got caught in his puppy-eyed stare dead-on as he melted instantaneously. "Dammit, Sammy," he said, "you're too old for that puppy face of yours."

"Dean, come on," Sam begged. "Do Hey Jude."

Their mom used to sing that to them every night before she died in a car crash. Dean had been four then, Sam a mere baby, and Sam had never actually gotten to meet her and hear her voice. But he knew he loved Dean's version of the song best. There would never be a better rendition of it.

Dean moved so they were both sitting against the windshield and strummed the guitar. He started to sing, voice low and slightly shaky in the beginning, but picking up within the first words.

"Hey, Jude, don't make it bad

Take a sad song and make it better…"

Sam moved over and rested his head on his brother's shoulder, shutting his eyes, and Dean's hand palmed the side of his head briefly and then tapped at his cheek, a gentle reminder for Sam to not fall asleep there. But Sam had never paid attention to that crap. He just wanted to let go of everything in their lives that seemed to be messed up. Not that Sam was one to feel too much. But Dean definitely helped the process. And whatever it was, Sam knew they were all going to handle it.

~o~

Yankton, South Dakota

The next morning

From what Henriksen could see, Meg Masters was as bad as Crowley. He was getting to interview some real pieces of work this case, and it just made his job more tiring. However, he'd been hot on the heels of the Creature since last year. He wasn't about to give up because some weirdos popped up at this point.

He was still going to grill Dean Winchester and that husband of his on this one, and he was looking forward to that, but for now, Meg, Clif Daniels's stepsister, would have to suffice.

"I told that asshole, you know," Meg said, pulling Henriksen out of his reverie, "to be careful."

"Why did you say that?"

"You know," she said. "Murders."

"Murders which are completely random?"

"Yeah, smartass, if there's a serial killer on the loose, wouldn't you warn your family, too?"

"So you consider him family?"

"Nah. He was a douche."

Henriksen knew that. Meg had filed several cases of abuse and molestation against Daniels and he'd been out on parole just a month ago. Honestly, Henriksen disagreed that this kind of scum ever deserved to be out of prison, but then again, maybe people changed. Maybe.

Okay, he didn't believe that either. Assholes never changed.

He folded his arms. "Describe your relationship with Daniels."

"Horrible," she said. "Why would you care?"

"Because you were the last person to see him alive. What did you talk about the night before he was killed?"

"He wanted money."

"Uh-huh. Did you give him any?"

"Like I would do that," she said. "I told him to fuck off."

"So you fought."

"No. I told him, very calmly, to fuck off." Meg leaned back against her couch. "Look, Agent, I have no regrets that he's dead. I don't care what you do with that information."

It wasn't really weird that she didn't care, though. Daniels was, like she said, a douchebag. Henriksen couldn't completely eliminate suspicion from her, anyway, even though whether she was in Tyngsborough and the other places during the time of the rest of the murders was a question.

"Where were you the night he was murdered?" Henriksen pushed on.

"At the hospital," Meg replied. "I'm a nurse, but you would know that. I was with other nurses who can confirm it."

"And have you ever been to Tyngsborough, Massachusetts?"

She perked up at the question. "Damn, he said you'd ask."

"Who?"

"Crowley, of course," she told him. "We're old pals from a long time ago."

Henriksen felt himself stiffen. They knew each other. "So were you in Tyngsborough or not?"

"I was," she said. "Last week. But I have my alibis. And Crowley told me he sends you kisses. He knew you'd come over to ask questions." She paused looking him over. "And he's right, you know. You are a sweet piece of ass."

~o~

Sioux Falls, South Dakota

That afternoon

"Dean, we're being followed."

Sam's frantic voice got Dean's eyes off the old TV as his brother joined him on the couch, tired and drenched in sweat. Sam had left for a beer run a while ago and this was the last thing Dean had expected to hear now. "Henriksen?" he asked.

"No." Sam clenched his jaw. "It's a maroon car. One of the newer Impalas. I saw it when we were at the lake yesterday."

"Are you sure it's following us?"

"Probably just me," he replied. "But I know what I'm talking about."

"Okay." Dean took a deep breath. Fuck. What was this new shit? "Okay," he said, "what do you wanna do? Leave?"

"Shouldn't we tell the police?"

"We're suspects, Sammy," said Dean. "I don't wanna shove us into their faces right now."

"You think leaving will help?" Sam seemed unsure, something that was not normal for him.

Dean was about to reply when his phone rang. The number was unknown when he looked at it, but he took the call anyway.

"Hello?"

"Dean Winchester."

Fuck. That voice. Dean wanted to groan, but he restrained himself. "Look who it is," he said, putting on fake enthusiasm to annoy Henriksen as much as possible, "Special Agent Victor Henriksen."

"I hear you're in South Dakota."

Dean gritted his teeth. "No. No, we're not in South Dakota," he lied, and he could see Sam's eyes widen, as Cas came out from the study.

"What happened?" Cas enquired, confusion littering his face, but Dean put a hand up to quiet him.

"Are you sure you're not there?" Henriksen asked from the other side. "Because I'm here right now, at Yankton, and if I find you anywhere in the vicinity…"

Dean's heart skipped a beat. "Search for us all you want around here, you bastard. I know you're out to get us."

"I'm not just out to get you," he said, "I know it's you and that innocent-looking husband of yours."

"Oh, you do now, do you," Dean hissed. "I'd like to see you prove it in court."

"All in due time, Dean," replied Henriksen, his voice singsong. "All in due time." And then the line went dead, leaving Dean to stare at Sam and Cas with his phone still held up to his ear.

"What did he say?" Sam asked him, breaking the brief silence.

Dean's limbs suddenly sprang into action at his brother's voice, and he was standing up, gathering his phone and the beer bottles on the couch. "We're getting out of here."

"To go where?" Cas came forward, surprised, and Dean didn't have time for drama or explanations.

"Massachusetts, geniuses, pack up!"

"Are you going to tell us why?" Sam was calm, levelled, and Dean rounded on him, annoyed.

"Just grab your shit, Sam," he said, clenching his fist.

"We're not going anywhere until you tell us what happened."

Dean shut his eyes. "Please, Sammy."

"Dean." Sam grasped at his shoulder. "What did Henriksen say? Why did you lie?"

"He's in Yankton," Dean told him. "And he's coming here. You know what that means?"

Sam's nostrils flared. "I told you—"

"He's out to get us!"

"I explained, Dean, I told you yesterday, that he couldn't hurt you with these charges. Didn't you fucking listen to me?!"

"I did, and you're right, but I lied to him just now, okay?" Dean's hands went to grip at his hair. "I'm fucking human and I panicked and lied."

Cas sighed. "Dammit, Dean."

"You don't talk!" Dean snapped at him.

Cas's brows drew together in confusion, and Sam moved over to stand beside Dean. "Hey! Don't blame him."

Dean rounded on his brother. "He was the one who bumbled that day and—"

"I didn't do anything!" Cas was angry now, taking a few steps toward Dean. "Will you stop blaming me?"

"Stop blaming you?! You're the reason why we're here in the first place. Your stupid-ass whining and me trying to fucking make it up."

"I never asked for this," said Cas, his eyes shining with rage. "You were the one who persuaded me."

"Guys…" Sam's voice was a minor disturbance to Dean as he ignored him.

"Yeah," he told Cas, "I had to persuade you. Say and do stupid, sweet things. You know why? Because you need to be wrapped in blankets and cuddled when you're sad or angry, or you remain sad and angry forever."

"So my problems bother you now?"

"Of course they fucking bother me," Dean spat. "I'm the one who has to live with that pissy attitude of yours and put up with it for whole days and then make up and beg and—"

"Guys."

Sam hadn't raised his voice, but Dean heard him this time, and he knew that tone. He stopped, unclenching his fists, as he rounded on his brother. "What, Sammy?"

"I'm leaving," Sam said, jaw clenching and unclenching by turn.

"What?!"

"I'm going outside. For another walk. If you two want to stop fighting and talk about what we need to say to Henriksen, call me." Before Dean or Cas could say another word, he was out of the door.

~o~

To say that Dean and Cas were idiots was an understatement.

Sam took several deep breaths as he walked on the sunlit rode, getting away from Bobby's house and his warring family. He was tired of this shit. He had spoken to Dean about the Henriksen situation and warned him about fighting with Cas. But Dean wouldn't listen. And when Dean didn't listen…

Sam froze right in the middle of that thought, and in his steps.

Something was wrong. Something was really wrong here.

He could hear an approaching car. He shifted to the side of the road, noticing it out of the corner of his eye. It was the same maroon Impala. He was sure of it now. It was moving at a slow pace and relatively far away, but it was unmistakeable.

His heartbeat sped up. This was the same car that had been tailing him earlier; the same one he'd noticed yesterday at the lake. He'd even mentioned it to Dean, but then Henriksen had called and interrupted them. And then in his anger, Sam had forgotten to talk about it at all.

Shit.

He fumbled in his pocket for his phone and got to his brother's number. Dean, God bless him, picked up on the first ring.

"Sammy, listen, I—"

"Dean," Sam breathed into the phone, "Dean, I'm outside."

That was all his brother needed to realise something was wrong. "Okay," he said, "where? I'm getting to the car… CAS?" He called to Cas, off the phone, and Sam heard Cas ask something, but everything quieted in the background, meaning Cas had understood, too.

"Sammy, where are you?" Dean asked him, worry oozing from his voice.

"Just five minutes away from the house." Sam quickened his pace as the car tailing him picked up speed. "Something's stuck in my shoe," he said desperately. The comforting keen of the Impala's doors shutting did nothing to calm him down.

"Okay," Dean replied, "calm down, Cas and I are coming, I've got Baby." The Impala's engine revved, but the car behind Sam was closing in, getting faster, and…

"Dean, I—"

Sam yelped as something struck his back, sending him flying to the ground. He clutched a patch of dry grass, the pain in his back excruciating, and turned around to look up as the car stopped at the shoulder. A man got out of it.

Sam stared at the face, his jaw dropping. Before he could react further, the other man raised a gun at him and shot, bringing more excruciating pain in Sam's stomach, and with it, another shot, a third one, and finally, darkness.

~o~

"SAMMY!"

Cas heard Dean's call to his brother before he saw the scene in front of them. Dean had sped out of Bobby's driveway, bumping into a couple of old cars, phone in one hand, and the next moment when they'd turned to the road outside, Dean was screaming his brother's name.

There was a car a few yards away on the shoulder and two men standing outside, who got back into their own car the moment they saw Impala. Cas's heart skipped a beat when he saw a figure slumped on the ground beside the car.

"Sam," Dean whispered, his tone equal parts menacing and heartbroken. The car before them began to pull away and at the same time Dean stopped, reaching over to open the door on Cas's side.

"Take him to the hospital," he said.

"But Dean…" We haven't seen Sam, he might be dead.

"He's alive." Dean was angry, in denial, but then again he was amazingly intuitive when it came to Sam, so Cas decided not to argue. "I'm going to get those bastards."

The moment Cas was out of the car, Dean had shut the door and accelerated ahead, leaving Cas to run to his brother-in-law and hope against hope that Sam was still alive. His whole body felt numb as he approached Sam and pulled his phone out to call an ambulance, a morose voice in his head telling him that his family had just been torn apart.

o

-Then-

Five days after Cas had spoken to Dean for the first time, he discovered that Dean had a tender side to him within the crass, flirtatious exterior. It happened when Cas was waiting in the living room for the professor. He'd been sitting, trying to focus on his notes, but beside him, there was something else going on that he couldn't take his eyes away from. Dean was there with Sam. Cas knew Dean would glare so he refrained from staring.

"I'm all right, Dean," he heard Sam say, tired and exasperated. "Quit babying me."

"No, you're not all right," Dean growled. "Stop telling me that. I'm gonna rip his lungs out."

"Dean" Sam's voice was quiet, in control. Cas glanced at them to see Dean hold an ice pack to a large bruise on Sam's cheek. He was about to look away when Sam's eyes caught his and Dean followed his gaze.

This time, however, Dean didn't try to flirt or smile. He got his brother to stand up. "Come on, Sammy." They disappeared down the hall and it was the first time Cas had seen Dean behave like an adult since he'd met him. He'd felt a pang of loneliness, wishing someone would be like that for him, but he'd been estranged from his family ever since they'd found out he was gay.

After this incident, Cas had never lost his respect for how much Dean could care for his brother, even with that rough exterior of his. He learned never to be surprised by Dean Winchester's dedication to his family.

A/N: Feedback would be lovely :)