Chapter Three: In Fear and Faith

The next week passed in a blur, time seeming to run into itself and muddle together. Or, the times Dean wasn't with Cas were like that anyway. The time spent in the confessional of the little Church stood solidly in his mind, the only beacon in a world so blurry. Dean and Father Novak spoke about everything under the sun- rock music, antique cars, the Bible, the priest's time in the seminary- everything but the deeper specifics of their lives. Dean assumed Castiel was easing him toward a far more heavy talk, one that he sensed was right on his doorstep.

Each new morning came far too slowly as far as Dean Winchester was concerned. He was up at the crack of dawn each day, hardly even having attempted to attain some sleep during the courses of most nights. But, of recent, perhaps the lack of sleep wasn't all about fear of nightmares, perhaps something else was keeping him up... Excitement.

It was a Tuesday morning meeting when Father Novak told Dean he wanted to venture back into Dean's story. When Dean's shoulders slumped ever so slightly, though, the priest told him to go back to his motel room, have a restful day, and come back the next day ready to get serious once more.

Dean's Tuesday night passed in a restless mess of tossing and turning under the too-scratchy blankets of his motel bed. At least he'd actually noticed they were too scratchy, considering how he hadn't noticed a single characteristic about, well, anything before the past week. It was as if he was coming out of some deep, numb sleep and awaking to a new dawn.

At any rate, thoughts of Cas kept Dean up all night once again, at times making him wonder if he'd actually whispered aloud, hoping Sam didn't hear the string of things coming out of his mouth. Things like "Why did I even notice how full and pink his lips were?" and "Who cares about messy dark hair?" and "Why exactly did I find myself captured by those blue eyes?", culminating the night with the one phrase Dean really hoped he hadn't uttered aloud, "And why, why the fuck, do I care so much? Why do I want to see messy hair even messier or see blue eyes flutter shut?"

The very second the alarm went off from the little table between the two beds in the motel room and Sam blinked his sleepy eyes, Dean yelled, "Rise and shine, Sammy!" making sure his brother didn't intend to hit the snooze button.

Sam mumbled a few phrases that sounded relatively pissed off, but he rolled out of bed. Mission accomplished. Dean rushed his little brother through every aspect of his morning routine, successfully getting them into the Impala within 15 minutes of waking up.

"Why the rush lately?" Sam asked once they were on the road, Dean pushing the Impala faster than usual down the quiet street, "You've been like this for days now. What's the Apocalypse upon us?"

"I have an appointment. I intend to be on time," Dean responded, staring straight through the windshield as he spoke.

"Since when have you been so worried about punctuality?" Incredulous notes took over Sam's voice, and Dean could see his younger brother turning to cock an eyebrow at him from the passenger seat.

"Since I probably shouldn't fuck with the priest's schedule," Dean replied, watching Sam roll his eyes from the other side of the car.

The church was cool and dark as Dean walked in, the lights not yet turned on. Sam had gone out to breakfast with Gabriel after a situation Dean really didn't want to talk about. He would remember to feed his little brother before going out next time. That was for damn sure.

Dean sat in the very back pew of the small church waiting for Cas to arrive, cradling his head in his hands. He hadn't bothered to turn on the lights when Gabriel unlocked the church door for him, deciding instead to allow the rising sun streaming through the stained glass windowpanes to cast an ethereal glow through the church, colors bouncing off the dark wood like a prism. Castiel had gone out to pick up coffee a few minutes earlier, so Dean simply waited there with his eyes closed, thinking.

It was quite some time before Dean heard the heavy front door of the church opening with a loud creak behind him. He was going to stand up and let Cas know he was there, but the priest had apparently already noticed him. "Good morning, Dean," he called out before the door even dropped back on its hinges.

Dean whipped around. "Morning Cas," he answered, watching the man walk toward him, the colorful light bouncing off him in a decidedly angelic fashion.

Cas didn't move toward the confessional where they'd spoken yesterday, didn't even turn on the lights. He simply sat beside Dean on the rickety little bench, holding out a cup of coffee. "I... figured it was likely that you'd be here. So I got you a cup of coffee while I was out. It's black, but I have milk and cream and sugar in my house, which is right across the lawn should you desire such things."

Now, Dean liked black coffee. He always had, never had he asked for it any other way. But he liked the idea of venturing over to Cas's house even more. He was still fighting himself in that internal struggle when Cas finished his sip of coffee and broke the silence, "Regardless, I am going to walk over to the house and get myself some sugar. I normally take my coffee black, but I'm in the mood for something a bit sweeter this morning. You're welcome to join me."

"Sure," Dean said as he got up, the little bench creaking at the loss of weight.

Castiel led the way to his house, which, as he said, was right across the church's back lawn. The inside of the house was simple, hardwood floors and pastel walls complementing darker furniture. The air conditioner was cranking in the early summer heat, keeping the house cool and fresh. A candle burned on the kitchen counter, sending a warm, homey smell through the room.

"Perhaps we could just speak here today?" Cas asked, his voice raising nearly an octave over a couple of the words as though he was nervous. "It would probably be more... comfortable. If that's ok with you?"

"Uh," Dean began, taken aback by the offer, "Yeah, that'd be great, Cas. Thanks."

The living room was much like the entryway, cozy and homey. A cream-colored throw rug lay in the middle of the floor where a wooden coffee table stood already equipped with twin coasters for their coffee cups. Dean placed his still-black coffee down on one of those coasters as he sat back on a tan couch accented with sky blue and chocolate brown pillows, the blue perfectly matching the ocean-mist color of the white-trimmed walls. Cas mirrored his action, placing his coffee down and falling back on the couch as well.

"So Dean, how was your night? What did you dream about?" the priest asked, re-aligning his stiff white collar in the middle of his black button-down shirt as he spoke.

Dean paused for a moment, not wanting to tell Castiel he hadn't dreamt about anything because he hadn't slept. He settled for a little half-truth. "My night was fine, yours?"

Cas took a sip of his coffee, his blue eyes looking decidedly tired, as though he'd slept only about as much as Dean had. He settled for an answer along the same lines. "My night... It was sufficiently restful. Did you have any of your dreams?" A look of hope crossed his face.

"Nope," Dean answered simply. It was true. "Looks like you're helping already."

Cas laughed, but then his expression turned far more sober. "Now Dean," he began, scooting a little closer to the other man on his little couch, "If we have reached an adequate level of trust, do you think you will be able to tell me about the aforementioned dreams today? I fully understand if not, I just-"

"Yes," Dean replied, cutting the priest off mid-sentence. He trusted Cas completely. "Although you're probably just gonna think I'm crazy or something. Like size-me-up-for-a-straight-jacket crazy."

"No," Cas laughed, "I will not be estimating your straight jacket size. I know you are not crazy- maybe grief-stricken and a little masochistic, but not crazy."

"Yeah. Maybe you don't think so yet. But you will."

"I won't. I promise."

Dean sighed deeply. Sure Cas was saying that now, but Dean highly doubted he'd hold to that opinion after hearing of the dreams which had been plaguing him. Regardless, he trusted Cas, and, for whatever reason, that was enough.

This chapter's a tad shorter than the previous two, but another should be up soon. I just really like the idea of Dean trusting Cas so much.

In the meantime, it'd be quite nice to hear some opinions. Enjoying it? Like the pace? I'd rather like to hear from you! Much love to the reviewers.