Sorry about any errors. It's late and I think I did a poor job of proofreading.


"Dean Winchester," he introduced himself as he reached out to shake the angel's hand.

Castiel just stared, having no idea what to make of the gesture. Dean smiled awkwardly as he retracted the offer, "Well, uh, I'm going to put on some clothes, and then we can-" Before Dean could finish his sentence, the angel vanished.

Figures. Dean turned towards the bathroom, only to be stopped dead in his tracks by a pair of bright blue eyes. "Here," Castiel said as he pushed a wad of cloth into Dean's chest, "These clothes are more accepted by society."

Dean's eyes followed the man who was now walking over to the bed, "What do you know about human society?" he asked, with a playful laugh.

The angel sat on the edge of the bed, and replied, "Well, I assume more than you. Seeing that I've been alive since before the universe even conceived the notion of your existence. Plus, even I wouldn't go out in public wearing that." Castiel motioned to the clothes scattered around the motel room.

"Well, that was just rude," Dean said to himself, just loud enough for Castiel to hear, as he went into the bathroom to get dressed.

Castiel glanced around the room until his eyes found the Bible on the night stand. He reclined on the bed as he reached out and brought the book into his lap. Dean emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later, wearing a black suit complete with vest and a blue tie. "How do I look now?" he asked, looking to Castiel for approval.

The angel did not even look up from the book in his hands before replying, "Better, but your hair still makes you look like an idiot."

"I'll wear a hat," Dean said in a sharp tone. He was completely done with this conversation. He walked over and plopped down onto the other bed, forgetting about his fractured ribs, and let out a low grunt. "So, in order to kill Chronos we need a thousand-year-old olive branch that was carved by vestal virgins and dipped in blood. You think you can swing that?"

"I do not understand your definition of the word swing," Castiel said, giving dean a confused look.

Dean just smiled. The naive look on the angel's face reminded him of his Castiel back in the present. That thought made Dean even more focused on his mission to get back home, "Do you think you could find one for me?"

Castiel turned back to reading. That fact that Dean was treating him like his errand boy really irked him, and he let the annoyance show in his voice, "Last time I checked, Dean, I was an angel of the Lord, not your housekeeper."

Castiel's attitude was starting to really get to Dean. Sure asking Castiel to trust him after only knowing him for a day was probably asking too much of him, but Dean didn't have time to go out to dinner, make friendship bracelets, and talk about each other's feelings. He needed to get back to Sam and the not-as-annoying Castiel as soon as possible, "Well, I heard there's one in heaven's armory. You could just pop in and grab that one," Dean suggested.

Castiel was silent. He didn't even know what to think, much less what to say! Did this man honestly expect him to break the laws of his father? expect him to steal from heaven? and for what reason? The angels never did get along with all of the creatures of the night who dare to call themselves gods, which is why they made a point to obtain a weapon to kill each and everyone one of them if they were to ever wage war against heaven, but this was not the case. So Castiel had no reason to want Chronos dead, even if a couple of humans died as a result. All humans have to die eventually.

Dean, taking the silence as a 'no,' responded, "Well I'm not letting you take me back, until I kill Chronos." The lessons that his father taught him were still engraved in his mind. If this guy was killing people, then taking care of him was his number one priority. You never leave a hunt without finishing the job.

"Who said anything about me taking you back?" Castiel said.

Dean was shocked. Sure he had seen Castiel while he was in a bad mood, but he wasn't use to him being this apathetic. His Castiel was always so eager to help, even if it was an inconvenience, Castiel always answered Dean's prayers, "Well, why are you here then?"

Castiel again had no answer. Angels were strictly forbidden to leave heaven, and Castiel had no idea why he had disobeyed that command.

The silence was too awkward for Dean, causing him to shift his position, and reminding him of the pain in his ribs, "Can you at least fix me up?"

"What?" Castiel asked, finally taking his eyes off of the book.

"You know, work your angel mojo and heal my ribs," Dean replied.

"Is that something you are accustomed to me doing? 'Working my angel mojo' for whatever purpose suits your frivolous needs at any given moment?" Castiel's tone was harsh, but it was not meant for Dean. It was more due to a disappointment he felt towards his future self. He couldn't accept errand boy as his fate.

Dean was surprised by how much the words hurt, "Well, if I thought you minded, I would never have asked anything of you," his voice was smaller than he had intended.

"Obviously you never think of anything but yourself, because I can tell you now that I mind. I mind being taken away from my home to fix all of your mistakes," Castiel said as his eyes drifted back to the pages on his lap. He almost regretted his harsh tone, again not all of it was meant for Dean.

Anger now took the place of Dean's pain. He refused to view himself as a burden to Castiel. Castiel chose him, chose to be with him, chose to help him. He hadn't forced the angel to do anything he didn't want to do. Castiel wanted to help Dean. Dean stood up to defend himself, "Well if that's how you feel, then why bother pulling me out of hell? If that is how you really feel, Cas, then save yourself the trouble, and next time just leave me in there to burn!" his voice was as loud as it could be without disturbing anyone in the next room.

Castiel stopped reading, but his eyes remained frozen on the page, unable to look up at the man next to him. Did he really raise this man from the pit? Would he really do something like that? Angels were forbidden to interfere with the affairs of men in anyway. Him leaving heaven to be here was bad enough, and he would probably be severely punished for it, but the man's prayer had intrigued him. The way the man spoke to Castiel was as if he were a close friend, and it appeared that they were indeed very close. Castiel could not imagine anything that would bring out that kind of rebellion in him.

After minutes of painful silence, Castiel finally turned his head to look at Dean. The man's face was filled with anger, but when Castiel looked passed the anger there was nothing but pain. That look sent a feeling of guilt throughout Castiel like he had never felt before. Then he realized that he couldn't take all of his frustrations out on Dean. Who was he to tell the man that he was unwanted? He obviously looked up to Castiel, and cared about him deeply. Who was he to take that away from him? He still had his doubts though, which lead him to ask "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

Without a word, Dean took off the jacket and unbuttoned his vest and shirt. He pulled back the shirt to reveal his right shoulder, and the hand-shaped mark that was still there after all these years. Castiel could tell the mark was his own without touching it, but that didn't stop him from standing and caressing the man's shoulder, lining up his hand with the ghostly scar left by his future self.

Castiel didn't say a word. He just stood there, staring at the man, finding himself in awe of the way the light danced off of the green flecks in his eyes. Still maintaining his silence, Castiel's hand left the man's shoulder so that he could place two fingers on Dean's forehead, and the bruise on his side disappeared. Dean knew that Castiel was even more reluctant to talk about his feeling than he was. So, he decided to take that as an apology, and leave it at that.

Castiel finally broke the silence, "I'll do what I can to help. I'm still not entirely sure that stealing the olive stake is a wise decision though."

"Well with Chronos dead, it's not like heaven will be needing it," Dean replied light-heartedly, as he re-buttoned his shirt and vest.

Castiel became silent again. Dean just didn't understand what Castiel was going through. He didn't know what it was like to love an absent father who left nothing behind except for his sacred commandments. He didn't understand that if he were to go against them he would not only be abandoning his father, but abandoning all that was left of his love as well. Castiel could not have been more wrong in his assumption though. Dean had lived most of his life blindly obeying his father's orders, simply because that was all he had left.

Castiel could still keep his promise to help Dean without disobeying his father though, "I'll get Chronos to take you back to the future. We won't be needing the stake."

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea, Cas. If you won't listen to me, then take your own advice. Chronos is not someone to be take lightly. We need to have a plan, before we bust in there and pick a fight," Dean had learned the hard way, and he didn't want his friend to have to go through the same. Plus, they didn't even know where Chronos was, or so he thought.

"Don't worry about me. I'll handle it," Castiel offered a smile to reassure Dean, but he wasn't convinced. Without another word, the angel disappeared. Leaving Dean with nothing but a change of clothes and a sinking feeling in his stomach.