Part III
Call me

It was nearly two in the morning by the time the last officer left with the assurance that they would make hourly checks of the perimeter. As it turned out the precinct didn't have enough cops to park a unit outside his apartment complex all night. It didn't bother Castiel too much. As soon as the front door closed, and locked, Castiel turned to the mess in his living room with a sigh. He started with setting a lamp back on the sleek end table next to the couch. It was his favored reading spot - or used to be. The thought of curling up on the end of the couch just made him feel exposed.

Castiel immediately closed all the curtains, locked the windows, then busied himself with fixing the bookshelves and picking up the books. When he laid out on the couch, and not his upended bedroom, his living room was in a partial state of order. Castiel had vacuumed the broken glass from the busted television and shattered coffee table. The cushions of the couch were ruined, but for the time being Castiel had flipped them over so he didn't have to see the stuffing peeking out from inside. He'd been able to fix most of the book shelves and arrange his books on the floor to deal with later.

He hugged one of the couch pillows to his chest and stared up at the ceiling from where he laid on the couch. Now that he had stopped working, the silence in the apartment became stifling. A car alarm was blaring outside on the street and Castiel had the urge to go peek out the curtain to see what was going on. At the same time he was afraid to be seen looking, thus the man did little more than turn his head toward the pulled curtains.

A door somewhere down the outside hallway slammed, making Castiel flinch.

He turned onto his side and pushed the small pillow to the side of his face to try and muffle the outside noise. He thought about finding his ipod and ear buds - but the sudden fear of not being able to hear someone try to break into his apartment detoured the thought. Dean was right, Castiel should have asked someone to stay over. Was it too late to ask Charlie?

His watch read 4:37 am.

Yeah, definitely too late – or early, depending on how he looked at it.

Castiel's gaze flicked to the breakfast counter where he'd left Dean's card. He debated half a second before crawling off the couch and retrieving the card and phone. He actually had the number dialed and sending before he realized what he was doing. Castiel pulled the phone away from his ear, his thumb descended to cancel the call.

And then he answered.

"Winchester."

The voice husky and laced with sleep. Castiel stared at the touch screen but said nothing.

"Hello? ... Anyone—"

Castiel hung up. Several seconds later his phone vibrated and the number Castiel had just dialed to call Dean flashed on the screen. His heart began to race and he ignored the call. Not a minute passed before his phone rang again. Castiel contemplating turning it off and stuffing it under the couch cushion. He stared at the number, chewing on his bottom lip, and at the last available second he hit accept.

"Hey, you know your number shows up when you call other people, right? Now who is this?"

Castiel felt his features flame up in embarrassment. It actually didn't dawn on him that once calling Dean, the detective would have his number. Castiel blamed it on the early hour and the fact he hadn't gotten an ounce of sleep. Still, he should probably, you know, say something.

"If you're in trouble, try banging on something to let me know and I'll get a trace on your number. Okay?"

It would only make sense that anyone Dean had ever worked with on a case would have the same number. Castiel wondered if the man would be annoyed knowing Castiel had woke him up for no reason.

"Come on, I need something — Ben if that's you, this is really not the time to play jokes."

"N-no. It's uh..."

"Who is this?"

Castiel swiped his free hand over his face, "Sorry. I didn't mean - didn't mean to wake you."

"Like hell you didn't. Now tell me what's wrong."

Swallowing heavily, Castiel tried to force the lodged words out of his throat. Castiel barely got a syllable out before he hung up and tossed the phone on the other end of the couch. He stood up and stalked to the bathroom to take a shower just so he wouldn't feel compelled to answer the phone if it rang again. He locked the bathroom door for good measures before turning on the shower full blast and stripping down.

Forty minutes later he was tying off his bathrobe and cautiously edging toward his front door where someone saw it fit to bang on his door at five in the morning. Castiel stopped at the breakfast counter, watching the chain lock jingle against the jamb. What he wanted to yell was go away!, what came out was an uncertain "Who's there?"

"Candygram."

Castiel's brow furrowed, "I don't - I don't want any Candygram."

There was chuckling heard on the other side of the door, deep and masculine. "Open the damn door."

That voice sounded naggingly familiar, and Castiel found himself drawn to the door to peer through the peephole. Out in the hall stood Dean, freshly dressed and holding two Styrofoam cups from Starbucks. Castiel's heart nearly knocked against his ribs with how hard it was suddenly pounding in his chest. "Y-you're early."

The man on the other side of the door grinned, the expression exceedingly wide through the contour of the peephole. "You're the one that called and woke me up. Now are you gonna open up or do you want to continue this conversation through the door?"

Remembering how sensitive his neighbor Chuck was to noise, Castiel grumbled and unlatched the three locks - knob, deadbolt, and finally the chain, and pulled the door open a quarter of the way. "How'd you know it was me that called?"

"Are you kidding me?" Dean purposely pitched his tone low, graveling it in mockery of how Castiel's voice sounded. Dean chuckled and pushed the door open the rest of the way with his shoulder. His green eyes flicked down the front of Castiel's robe in passing. One of the coffees was set on the counter while Dean sipped from the other. "So, something on your mind?"

Castiel curled his fingers into the blue fuzz of his robe and curled it more protectively around his body. "No. I just... it was nothing."

"You missed me so much you just wanted to talk, huh?"

Castiel grit his teeth against the embarrassment threatening to color his face from the neck up. "No that is not–"

"I'm jerking your chain, man," Dean had a very soothing tone, even if he did throw in a wink at the end. "I'm guessing you didn't sleep last night."

The silence said it all, and Castiel didn't know why he couldn't admit the little truth. It made him feel like an idiot, especially so in front of the confident detective in front of him. The man was nonchalantly leaning against the counter while Castiel stood awkwardly in the bathrobe. The way Dean just exuded self-confidence made Castiel feel naked in comparison. He frowned, ran his fingers through his damp hair and took an awkward step toward his bedroom. "I'm going to get dressed..."

Dean stepped in front of him and Castiel froze on the spot. Castiel swallowed thickly, all too aware that at this proximity he could smell the detective's aftershave; woodsy, a bit of spice. In a lowered tone, that did little to dissuade Castiel's nervous state, the man spoke, "We're going to talk about this, Cas. Understand?"

Not trusting his own voice, Castiel quickly nodded and retreated to his room.

Six o'clock found Castiel seated awkwardly in the booth of a diner that offered breakfast around the clock. Dean sat across from him, resembling a overly excited child as he indulged in dessert for breakfast. The pie was apple, and judging purely off of Dean's facial expressions, Castiel was guessing it tasted like heaven itself. Castiel nursed a cup of black coffee while he pushed as far against the wall as possible so he wasn't near the aisle.

"When you said breakfast, I thought it meant you wanted eggs and bacon."

"Don't be jealous, you had your chance to order something good and all you wanted was coffee."

Castiel frowned as he glanced toward the window looking into the kitchen. The cook that had worked the graveyard shift didn't look like anyone Castiel wanted to trust cooking his food. There had been this one case he read about where a disgruntled cook, a pre-release man with a rap sheet a mile long, had poisoned all of his morning customers. A child had died. After reading the article, Castiel couldn't bring himself to trust these cheap, dimly lit diners.

Dean, having observed the nervous action, set his fork down. "You're really shaken, huh?"

Castiel's storm blue eyes swiveled back to the detective. He frowned, then let his gaze fall to his coffee. "It's... It's more like the straw that broke the camel's back."

"You don't look broken to me."

The reassurance earned a crooked smiled that quickly waned, "I use to love running in the mornings. I'd go through the paths in the park... then there was the woman that was found in the bushes... and then the little boy in tunnel. I don't run anymore."

Dean's fork made uncertain circles around the pie plate.

Castiel watched the pronged end and plowed on ahead with his thoughts that were quickly gaining momentum. "Then there was the bank shooting - I do online billing for everything now. The theater shooting - I don't want to go anymore, but Charlie tries to drag me at least once a month. Don't get me started on taxi's and –"

"You're paranoid," Dean simplified.

Castiel's chin tucked in toward his chest in a defensive reaction. Immediately he regretted saying anything to the detective. "Not without reason."

Dean merely smirked and idly tapped his fork against his plate, "Ever think you're in the wrong line of work?"

It was a logical question, but only served to make Castiel's heart sink. He drew his sleeves over his hands and pushed them into his lap while glaring at the table top. "Even if I didn't work with the law force, I would still read all this in the newspaper unless you are going to advise I stop reading the paper."

The detective merely grunted, "I guess you have a point there."

"I like being able to help. I may not be able to do your job but... I help, if only that little bit."

"I believe you. Sam says you're the best they have."

Castiel lifted his head in earnest, "He does?"

"Yeah," Dean gave one of those easy smiles that Castiel couldn't decipher as genuine or just very well practiced. "Also says you're a little odd, but everyone seems to like you well enough."

Castiel was tempted to ask if Dean was included in on that everyone. He mentally kicked himself for the very thought. He turned his gaze aside, "I see."

"I think..."

For a brief, panicked moment Castiel feared he had spoken his internal question out loud. His throat tightened, and his breathe stilled in his chest.

"... it's a bad idea to leave you alone in that apartment."

Slow exhale, "Well unless you're offering to stay over..."

It was Dean's turn to look a little caught off guard by the question. He nervously cleared his throat. "That wasn't what I had in mind."

Disappointed, again, Castiel propped his elbow on the table and cradled the side of his features into his sleeve covered palm. He arched a questioning eyebrow at the detective. Dean merely smiled, green eyes twinkling in mischief that Castiel did not trust for a second. He doubted he could talk Dean out of whatever mayhem he was plotting. Thusly he frowned in disapproval, "I will be sure to keep my door locked, Detective Winchester."

"Have I mentioned that among my extensive skill set, kicking a door open is among them?"

The frown deepened, "I feel my place of home has suffered enough damage from intruders that you don't need to be further subtracting from the security deposit I have on the place."

Dean mirrored Castiel's position of propping his chin up on an upturned palm. He leaned over his arm, the motion entirely challenging as he locked his sea-green eyes on Castiel's storm blues. "Then you best just open the door for me."

Castiel narrowed his eyes a touch, "Don't you have better things to do than torment me?"

"I told Sammy I'd be on call if he needs me."

"You call him Sammy?"

"Yeah, he hates it - it's great."

Castiel dropped his hand to the table top, his nose wrinkling. "You have a strange perception of how to get along with people."

"No one has opposed my methods yet," The detective stood from the table, his fingers sliding just short of touching against Castiel's relaxed hand. Castiel had noticed, and when his gaze flicked up to Dean's face, the smile told him that the move had been intentional. Castiel snapped his gaze back forward, studying the vacated booth seat opposite of him. Dean chuckled as he fished out his wallet, throwing a pair of bills on the middle of the table to pay for the pie and coffee.

Castiel's cheeks colored, "You're something of a bastard."

"Sticks and stones," Dean's grin was nearly spread ear to ear. "You coming or do you want me to call you a cab?"

Glowering, Castiel slid out of his seat and followed after the arrogant detective. He climbed into the passenger seat of Dean's personal car - a 67' Chevy Impala that was a dead giveaway of what Dean liked to do in his free time. Castiel could appreciate the dedication it took to keep the car in mint condition, clean, and basically shined to impress. Sadly, Castiel preferred modern cars.. not something that still came with a cassette deck. It had been such a long time since he's seen knobs instead of buttons to tune into radio stations.

"Beautiful, isn't she?"

Castiel's brow furrowed and he lifted his gaze from the ancient looking tape deck to peer at Dean. Then he shifted his attention out the window in assumption that Dean was referring to some woman, "She... ?"

"My baby," Dean fondly patted the dash of his car.

Oh. Dean was one of those guys. Castiel flashed an awkward, crooked smile with a less than assuring nod before he fixed his gaze out the window the remainder of the ride home. He nearly bolted as soon as the car pulled up to the curb outside his apartment building. Dean caught him by the elbow, a worried look in his green eyes but an easy smile on his lips. "I'll ask the captain if you can just fill out the normal mumbo-jumbo paper report instead of coming all the way into the office. I need to do some other stuff, but I'll stop by later to check up on you. Will you be okay?"

"I'll be fine," Castiel whispered, staring pointedly at the fingers encircling his elbow.

Gingerly the grip loosened and Castiel hastily made his way out of the car and up the steps while fumbling for his keys. Behind him he heard Dean yell through the open window. "Call if you need anything."

A/N: The response has been amazing guys, keep it up! :D

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