Part XIII
Dearest Miranda

2:32 PM

Castiel stared wide-eyed at the red numbers as if they were three little ghosts gazing right back at him from his bedside. He blinked once, twice, three times but the only change came as the minute passed. It couldn't be two in the afternoon - it just couldn't. Castiel reached out to tilt the clock downward and verify that his alarm had been turned off - or never turned on. Castiel wasn't sure of either case, but even without an alarm to wake him in the morning, he was baffled to how late it was in the day. Someone should have at least called him to ask why he hadn't shown up for work.

It all felt so surreal.

Castiel raked fingers through his tousled hair and drowsily looked around his bedroom. The clothing haphazardly strewn across the floor served as a reminder to last night activities. Spotting his tie cinched around a pair of slats in the head board, and remembering how his wrist had been tied there, caused a spark of heat to shoot through his nerves and pool traitorously in his groin. He leaned over and quickly loosened the tie and tossed it toward the end of the bed. He sat on the edge of the bed and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes in a moment of pique.

Once again he had not been strong enough to say no.

He wondered if this was how re-lapsing junkies felt. He wanted to rip out his own hair, to smash his head and fists into the wall, all the while he just wanted to curl up until the world faded away into nothing. Castiel sniffed back the tears that were threatening to build. The sheets next to him were rumpled but empty, and Castiel took a moment to listen to the silence of the empty apartment. No sound of a shower running, no smell of a late breakfast cooking, no hum of a television left on for background noise. Nothing but a hollow silence that made Castiel's throat feel thick.

Castiel pushed the sheets aside and scrounged the floor for clothing. He pulled on the first t-shirt he found on the floor and scrounged a pair of jeans from his closet. His feet shuffled over the floor boards as he made his way into the kitchen and started the coffee pot. He found his phone on the counter and scowled when he noticed that someone (named Lucifer) had turned off the volume. So far Castiel had missed eight calls and had just as many voice mails.

None of them were from Lucifer or Dean.

There was one from Michael, but Castiel deleted it before he could listen to it because he didn't feel like he could deal with his brother's condescending attitude on top of everything else.

As Castiel mixed vanilla creamer into his first cup of coffee something brushed up against his ankle. He blinked down at the fuzz ball of a kitten staring back up at him with brilliant blue eyes. Castiel snorted before he picked up the feline, cupping her to his chest with a quick scratch of fingers between her ears to start her purring engine. The cup of coffee and kitten were taken to the living room where Castiel all but collapsed on the couch and blankly stared at the dark screen of the tv.

"I think I should call in sick," He announced to the empty room.

The kitten was sniffing intently at his hip and when Castiel pushed her little nose away he found several dots of blood dried along the hem of the shirt. Castiel's brow creased with confusion as he took a better look at the small spray pattern. He then plucked at the front of the shirt that was too loose to belong to his slender frame. Castiel belatedly recognized the pattern and color being that of the shirt Lucifer had been wearing last night. But why was there —

"There's blood on your shirt."

"Hm?" Lucifer, having pinned Castiel to the corner of the couch, drew back to blink down at his shirt.

Castiel pointed to the small collection of red dots along Lucifer's shoulder.

Lucifer picked dismissively at it, "Would you believe me if I said it was ketchup?"

Promptly a scowl marred Castiel's features, "I did not pursue forensic science for the last four years to mistake ketchup for blood."

"Alright then," Lucifer shrugged. "It's blood."

His boyfriend moved to claim his lips but Castiel dodged the attempted and pushed on his chest. "You were hurt?"

A guarded expression slipped over Lucifer's features, "No."

Castiel felt his stomach sink, "Is it even your blood?"

There was only a second of pause, "No."

"Why do you have someone else's blood on your shirt?"

Lucifer firmly held his gaze for a long, silent moment. "I told you before that I would never lie to you, Castiel, but there are things that you probably don't want to know, and you shouldn't know for your own safety."

"Nick..."

"Ask again, and I will tell you the truth."

A troubled crease formed between Castiel's brows.

Castiel didn't want to know why there was blood on the shirt.

He sipped at his coffee trying not to think about it.

"Let's get you some food," He mumbled to the kitten, desperate to focus on anything other than the blood. He'd throw it into the laundry when he got around to taking a shower. A knocking on his door put a damper on Castiel's plans. The coffee was left on the counter as Castiel went to check on his visitor. Upon seeing Dean through the peep hole, Castiel hastily undid the locks and pulled the door open.

Castiel smiled, a mixture of relief and nerves, because he didn't think he'd ever seen Dean standing at his threshold after last night. "Dean."

The detective's green eyes flicked over him, but his expression was on the side of forlorn. "Hey Cas.. you weren't at work."

The smile began to waver, but Castiel chuckled to try and mask his inner distress at seeing the colorful bruising centered around Dean's nose. God he was hoping the blood on his shirt didn't belong to Dean, because it would just figure that Lucifer would go and deck Castiel's potential new boyfriend. Castiel nervously rubbed at the back of his neck while staring at the myriad of purple and red. "Yeah, I kind of over slept.."

By like six hours...

Castiel held the door open a little wider in invitation. Dean looked uncertain, and Castiel couldn't blame him after the awkwardness last night. Still, Dean was there - maybe even a little worried since Castiel hadn't shown up at work. Castiel was going to take it as a good sign. It took a moment, but Dean eventually stepped into the apartment and the door was closed behind him. The detective idled in the foyer connecting the kitchen to the living room.

Castiel nervously wrung his hands, "Do you need an ice pack.. ?"

Dean touched the bridge of his nose as if he had completely forgotten that his face looked like he had butted heads with a brick wall. His voice came out low, subdued, "I'm fine."

"Coffee?"

A shake of head in reply.

Castiel glanced away, tracking the passage of the kitten as she darted from the living room to make a feint at Dean's shoes before skittering off toward the bedroom. The silence was beginning to settle in, fueling Castiel's nervous feeling. Soon he was tugging at the neck of the shirt that was too big for his slender frame. His mindset was starting to edge toward panic as he silently prayed Dean couldn't smell last night's sex on him.

He really wished he had promptly showered after getting up.

"I... " He began uncertainly while rubbing one palm over the other and looking no higher than his hands. "I broke it off with Nick."

Hope swelled in his chest, giving Castiel the courage to glance up to briefly meet Dean's sea-green eyes. He managed a nervous smile before dropping his gaze back down to his restless hands. "I'm sorry about last night, my head was all messed up because of him, but I want you to know.."

"Cas.. "

"Please, let me finish," Castiel cut him while raising both hands toward the detective. "I was unfair to you last night. I shouldn't expect you to just accept my messed up situation with him. But I want you to know that I'm done with it - with him. And - and if you're still interested, I would still really like to.. I don't know.. go out for drinks sometime? I'm not asking for anything, I don't have any expectations. You asked me to give you a chance - and I guess I'm hoping you'll give me a second chance."

Castiel inched forward a step before daring another look at Dean's face. The detective looked so conflicted, and even worse when Castiel took in the faint glisten of repressed tears. He tried for a smile to ease whatever mood had caused the distraught. Swallowing thickly, Castiel braved another step closer to rest both hands against Dean's collar bones.

"It's okay," because he didn't know what else to say. Castiel debated with himself a couple of seconds before drawing close and gently pressing his lips against Dean's. His heart promptly soared to cloud nine as the kiss was returned. Thank you, Castiel tried to voice through a firmer press of lips and a slip of tongue. His nerve tips were dancing with a feverous joy at every brush of lips.

Screw work, Castiel was going to spend the rest of his afternoon discovering the best way to slot his lips with Dean's. A soft hum in the back of throat vocalized his enjoyment, and the faint curl of fingertips against Dean's scalp asked for more. Dean's hand grazed up Castiel's forearm, curled around his wrist–

–the click of a hand cuff cinching to a close made Castiel's eyes widen. He drew back to blink at the metal encircling his wrist. He couldn't read the expression on Dean's face (it was so serious) but he tried to chuckle aside his surprise, "I'm okay with some light bondage, but hand cuffs really aren't my thing."

Another nervous laugh.

"Usually people opt for fuzzy cuffs.."

Dean didn't crack a smile, "Castiel Novak."

His heart began to race, but thinking this was nothing more than a joke, Castiel continued to try and smile. Dean was just messing with him.

"You're under arrest."

"Dean," Castiel winced as his arm was pulled down, then he was forced to turn around as Dean grabbed for his other arm. "This isn't funny."

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do may be used against you in a court of law."

"Dean!" Castiel jerked his second wrist away, but Dean held on tight, applying pressure to the joint to detour Castiel from repeating his attempt to escape. "I'm serious - what are you doing? Let me go!"

"You have the right to consult an attorney before—"

"Dean, you're fucking scaring me." Castiel thrashed, not at all liking the controlling grip on his wrists. While it was true that he liked his partners to be on the dominant side , this was pushing it way too far. He bucked, pulled, twisted, but it wasn't long before Dean had his arm torqued to a painful degree and Castiel was pressed flat against the wall.

To think just a second ago he had been kissing Dean instead of plaster.

"You're under arrest for harboring a fugitive, Cas."

"What? You can't – you mean Lucifer? Jesus Christ Dean, you were here with me, you could have said something then."

Wait - that had to mean that someone reported Lucifer even being there, and as far as Castiel knew, Dean was the only other person that had known the man was in the apartment. Castiel wasn't even going to argue the point about not knowing there were active warrants out for Lucifer's arrest. He didn't know of any specifically, but there was always one somewhere - likely issued from another state.

"Dean..."

"Cas, please.. don't make this harder than it already is."

The plea in Dean's voice gutted the remainder of Castiel's protest. His shoulders went slack and Dean took the opportunity to cuff his other wrist and finishing where he left off on the Miranda. Afterward a thick silence settled between them. Dean lead him out of the apartment, down the hall, and Castiel for all the world was in a daze as the soft music in the elevator floated around them. It wasn't until they stepped outside and Castiel's felt the frigid concrete beneath his toes did he realize he hadn't had time to put on shoes.

Castiel took one last glance at his apartment building before turning a hesitant gaze to Dean's expressionless features, "What about Lucifer?"

"What about him?" Dean snapped with a punctuating growl.

Nothing could hide the wince Castiel did in reaction to the harsh tone, "I meant the cat."

"Couldn't you have named it something else - anything else?"

Falling back into silence, Castiel did little but stare at his feet as Dean angrily lead him down the block. It wasn't the Impala that Dean approached. Castiel had a moment to blink at the unmarked squad car before being eased into the back seat. At least he wasn't shoved, because at this point Castiel wouldn't put it past Dean to do such a thing. The detective seemed to be taking his frustration out on him. It was hard not to take it personally, but Castiel did his best to reason that Dean wasn't happy about arresting him, and Castiel also was beginning to understand that anger was Dean's fall-back as far as emotions went.

Castiel curled his toes into the clean, gray upholstery of the car that smelled fairly new. When Dean entered, the detective did little more than sit angrily behind the steering wheel; didn't even turn the ignition. Castiel swallowed before softly speaking. "Angel?"

Dean gave him a sharp glance via the rearview mirror.

"I could call her Angel.. if that's better.. ?"

The detective sighed, his hands gripping tightly at the wheel. "I don't care what you call the damn cat, Castiel."

It sounded like it mattered to Dean just a second or two ago, but Castiel let it go. He leaned forward to better glimpse at Dean's profile. "You don't need to be angry, Dean. I understand.. I know you're just doing your job and it's not like I didn't know my involvement with—"

"Shut up, Cas. Just shut up. The right to remain silent means you should shut up if you know what's good for you."

"It's not my first time in hand cuffs, Dean."

"Then shut the fuck up!"

"Not until you explain to me why you're being such an asshole - I'm trying to make this easier for you."

"Oh believe me Cas, it was easy as fucking pie, but you want to know the problem here? Fine." Dean pulled his badge from his breast pocket, but when it fell open it wasn't a detective badge that Castiel saw, it was the bold lettering of F.B.I next to Dean's name that grabbed his attention. "There's your god damn problem."

Castiel felt something in the back of his mind twist and break, "You're FBI."

"Great, you know how to read. I'm relieved."

Castiel eased back, his eyes glued to the back of Dean's head. There was only one reason why an F.B.I. agent would take interest in him. Which meant that from day one Dean had been toying around with him. "And I'm... ?"

"Just some mook I'm using to get close to Lucifer."

A coldness seeped across Castiel's chest, spreading all the way to his fingers and toes. If Dean's expression could be considered blank, Castiel's was ice. He locked gazes with the green eyes watching him through the mirror. "Ah."

Dean's eyes narrowed, "Ah? That's all you've got to say - ah?"

"I'm sorry," Castiel toned with false modesty with a stoic mask to match his brother's, "I believe you said I had the right to remain silent."

There were appropriate dirty looks from Dean before he turned on the car and pulled into traffic. It wasn't long before Dean was turning up the volume on the radio even though there was no form of conversation to drown out. It must have been a college station, because Castiel didn't recognize the song for the usual tunes they repeated a hundred times over on the other stations he often found himself listening to while at work.

—the perfect hassle for the perfumed kiss
He makes you miss him more than home

You love him
You love him more than this
You love him and you cannot, you can't resist
You love him
You love him for yourself
You love him and no one, no one—

The lyrics cut off as the scan button was jammed by Dean's annoyed fingers. It only took a half second for it to land on a different station.

Love hurts...
But sometimes it's a good hurt and it feels like I'm alive
Love sings,
When it transcends the bad things.
Have a heart and try me, 'cause without love I won't survive

I'm fettered and abused,
I stand naked and accused
I only want the truth—

The next few stations were only settled on a few seconds each until Dean found something that was suitably angry. Castiel resolved to lean his temple against the window and stare out the glass the remainder of the trip. He knew he should feel betrayed - by Dean, by Lucifer, by Michael. Yet Castiel felt a void in him and only a quiet disappointment in himself for having been such a fool. Michael had tried to warn him by telling him to stay away from Dean, and Lucifer had hinted toward Dean not being a good choice, but in the end Castiel had not listened.

To be fair, he was terrible at picking up on the subtle clues.

The car pulled up to a building that Castiel didn't recognize. It wasn't the station, or any precinct that he knew, but it hardly mattered in the end. Dean was once again watching him in the mirror as they sat idling in the parking lot. "Cas, listen, I—"

"Don't bother," Castiel's growled with indignation. "There is nothing you can say that will change the fact that you still have to do your job."

Things to Know
1.) Dean really needs to work on properly expressing himself.
2.) There's a million and one love-ish songs I could have picked. I used Daphne Descends by Smashing Pumpkins and Love Hurts by Incubus.
3.) Cas probably should have listened to that voice mail from Michael.

Next Chapter - Interrogation room time!