Disclaimer: I own Holles and Film and my depressed, bitter tears . . .

Summary: Normal AU. Sometimes you have bad days . . . and then sometimes you have horrifying, stumble-upon-a-dead-body, wanted-by-the-police kind of days. Unfortunately for Dean, he was having the latter.

Castiel sat in his favored cafe and sipped his coffee as he looked out the window. It was a beautiful day, with barely a cloud in the sky and the air chilled enough to signal the coming of winter. People walked around in coats and jackets, scarves wrapped around their necks, laughing, smiling, loving. Beautiful.

Castiel glanced up when the bell on the door signaled a new arrival. There were two men, both in dark uniforms. Police officers. They looked like they were on business. They went up to the counter to talk to the cashier. As they talked, the woman's eyes widened.

A child laughed and Castiel glanced away. Outside, a young boy was jumping onto a short line of stone blocks that were placed around an area of soil with a tree and a few plants growing out of it.

"Excuse me."

Castiel looked back. The police officers stood in front of him. "Yes?"

"I am Lieutenant Holles, this is Sergeant Film. We were told that you know this man." The taller of the two held up a photo. Castiel peered at it.

"Oh, yes. Dean Winchester."

"Have you seen him recently?"

He shook his head.

"What can you tell us about him?"

Castiel sipped his coffee thoughtfully. "He seemed to be a good man. He was kind. He gave me a coupon once," he reflected. "It was for a cheesecake."

"And?" the other, shorter, one demanded.

Castiel blinked at him. "What?"

"Was it any good?"

The taller man sighed. "Roy . . ."

"Oh. Yes. I am more partial to the lemon pound cake with cream-cheese frosting, though," he confided.

The younger officer nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah. That sounds good."

The older man rolled his eyes. "Okay, thank you for your time. Let's go, Roy."

They left, but not before Sergeant Film bought the lemon pound cake.

Castiel stayed until he finished his coffee, then he, too, left.

Last night:

Dean crept up to his brother's bedroom window and leaned against the wall for a moment to catch his breath. Then he knocked. "Sam!" he yell-whispered. "Sammy! Open up!"

The light turned on and a sluggish Sam shuffled to the window and opened it. "Dean?" He rubbed his eyes sleepily. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey. I can come to you for anything, right? Anything?" Dean's eyes darted around at the sound of a siren.

Sam, feeling increasingly alert, blinked at him. "You know you can. Why? What is it?"

"Well, uh . . . I'm kind of wanted for murder. But it totally wasn't my fault," he added quickly.

"Murder? Did you just say murder?" Jessica came over to stand beside Sam.

"Uh. Yeah."

Sam pushed a hand through his hair. "Damnit, Dean, what did you do?"

"Nothing!" Dean protested. "I didn't do it!"

"What happened?" Jess began rubbing Sam's back.

"I don't know." Dean gave them a bewildered look. "I just stumbled over a dead body and boom, I'm wanted for murder."

Sam's brow furrowed. "They can't be after you for so little evidence."

"Well, uh, I might have also been covered in the guy's blood," Dean said weakly.

They stared at each other. Finally, Jess asked, "What are you going to do?"

Dean rubbed his head. "Well, I was kind of hoping I could stay here for now."

"No," Jess said quickly. "This is the first place they'll look."

Sam scrubbed a hand over his face. "She's right, Dean. Is there anywhere else you can go?"

"No. Not really."

"Okay. There's got to be a place . . ." Jess bit her lip before brightening. "I've got it! I've got this friend who rents an apartment. She's away at her parents' right now, so I just need to ask her if you can borrow it." She grabbed her phone, which was on the nightstand.

"Won't she be asleep?" Dean nervously.

"Probably not. She keeps odd hours." Jess texted, Hy, cn brthr-n-lw sty at yr plce whle gone?

There was silence, then a beep.

Wy? He wntd by cops or smthng?

Knd of.

Cool. Go ahad. Nt like im styng thr rt nw. Kep me pstd.

Wll do.

Jess grinned at the screen before looking at her brother-in-law. "She says that you can stay there while she's gone. C'mon, I'll walk you there."

Sam watched in bemusement as his fiancée grabbed some clothes, which all happened to be black, and went into the bathroom to change. He shook his head. "I get the feeling that she's having way too much fun with this."

Dean chuckled. "Yep. She's a keeper."

Sam's face softened. "Don't I know it."

Dean was thinking about making disgusted noises when Jess came out. She rummaged in a drawer and pulled out a black hat, pulling it over her blond hair. She then looked at Sam and raised an eyebrow. "Well? You coming?"

Sam went to get changed.

Next day:

Dean felt like cursing when, from a distance away, he saw two police officers walk into his favorite cafe and talk to the woman at the register, Janet, then turned and made their way to that guy who was almost always there whenever Dean visited. He'd talked to him a few times. Cas-something. Scruffy-looking guy, always wore a trench coat. Had a surprisingly gravelly voice.

Dean gave the place one last look before sighing and trudging away.

Next next night:

Dean came back from a small convenience store where the only TV there had no cable. He hefted the plastic bag in his hand, which contained bread, chips, beer, and pie. He climbed the stairs and began to walk down the hall, to the apartment he was staying in. He stopped in front of it and opened the door. A few doors down, someone stepped out of their apartment and began to walk past him when they suddenly stopped. Dean glanced up and stared into the face of Cas-something. The guy who the cops had talked to.

They stared at each other for a moment. The guy didn't say anything, probably because he was in shock from being confronted by a murderer.

Just then, a police car cruised by with its windows down. It broke the spell.

Dean cursed and grabbed Cas-something, placing a hand over his mouth and dragging him into his apartment before shutting the door with his foot.

They stood there. Dean faced the conundrum of having a bag full of stuff on his arm and his hand over someone's mouth.

"I'm going to let you go now, okay? Don't scream," he warned.

Castiel nodded. He exhaled when Dean Winchester let go of his face, watching him cautiously. They stared at each other again. "If it makes you feel any better," Dean finally said, "I didn't do it."

"I am greatly relieved to hear that," Castiel said gravely. "I would have been most distressed to hear you say that you are indeed a murderer."

"Is that your way of saying that you don't believe me?" Dean wondered.

"No. It's someone else's."

Great. The guy was a comedian.

Up Next: What do you do when you find yourself in an alternate world, watching your two friends fight off demons? But wait, that's not all! Not only are they fighting off demons, but they are demons! This question can be answered by Castiel "Angel Dude" No-Last-Name.

Weird Randomness!

0000

". . . and then the angel said 'Hey, assbutt' and blew up the Devil." Castiel looked expectantly at Dean.

The orange-clad convicted man clapped obligingly from the other side of the glass, his expression trying desperately to convey something resembling miserable appreciation. Deep inside himself, he was curled into a corner and sobbing

He hadn't meant it literally.

0000