A/N: Okay, to say that I don't know where this is going is an understatement. I don't even know what the genre is. It probably won't be Hurt/Comfort because I just really enjoy happy stuff...But, clearly, there's a plot. The only thing I know for sure is that this is Destiel and that Dean is a hunter. And that's it. If you can stick with me for the next few chapters while I sort this out, that'd be great. Until then, short chapters of road tripping and a frustrated Gabriel. -Pyxie xx

Gabriel stares out the windshield in disdain. He can't even turn his head to Cas to even begin to express his distaste for where they are. Because really. Of all places to stop, it had to be here. Parents bustle around with their children screaming in high pitched wails. Couples joined at the hands walk as slowly as possible between the booths.

Castiel unbuckles his seatbelt and climbs out of the car, a new light in his eyes. Gabriel reluctantly follows.

"Geneva, Illinois, Cas. What in God's name is out here?" Gabriel runs his fingers through his hair and locks the car.

"Don't blaspheme."

"You aren't even religious." Gabe snaps back. "Why are we here? I don't wanna be here."

Cas sighs and tries his best to ignore his brother. He goes up to a pastry booth where two French nuns are. He buys two apple turnovers and hands one over to Gabriel. "Merci." He nods and smiles at them. "I told you that you didn't have to follow me on this trip, Gabriel. In fact, if you're acting like this, I kind of wish that you had decided to stay behind."

"Harsh, baby bro." Gabriel takes a bite out of his apple turnover and his eyes widen. "Geez." He makes little green orgasmic noises that Castiel just has to cover his eyes for. "These...are heaven." After that he's content and rather happy. And the only sounds he makes are of extreme pleasure.

Castiel puts as much distance between the two of them as possible to dissociate himself from this weirdo he has for a brother. People blush as they hear Gabriel and rush past.

"Cas!" So much for distance. "Yo, brother. Have you tried these yet?" Gabriel inches nearer and nearer to Castiel and wraps his arm around his younger brother. "I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to make sure people don't know we're related. We both know we aren't. Not really."

"Gabriel, please…" Castiel tries to pull away, but his brother's got him close.

"Mmm...you know what would be really weird…?" Gabriel wiggles his eyebrows in a way that suggests nothing innocent. He voice fades from its usual orange colour and into a warm purple colour. Cas shakes his head. "If I kissed you. Right here. Right now."

The blood drains from Castiel's face and he tries frantically to pull away as Gabriel pushes closer to him. "No. No no no no…please."

"Shh, just let it happen." Green. Gabriel presses his lips to his brother's, only to be punched almost instantly. "Fuck, dude…" Blue.

Cas scrubs his mouth with the back of his hand. "Never do that again. Ever." He takes his apple turnover out of its packaging and takes a bites. He must admit, for all of Gabriel's moaning and weird actions, his pastry is absolutely delicious.

"Take a joke…" Gabriel whines and looks at his brother, hurt and in pain. "Where do you hide that strength of yours? I thought all physicists were supposed to be lanky bastards."

"Shut up." Even though he's still kind of irritated with Gabriel, a small smile grows on Castiel's face, hidden by his turnover. As quickly as it crosses his lips, it slips away.

Gabriel, still rubbing his jaw gently, resumes eating his turnover and starts walking away from Cas and away from the stand. It's only then that he realises that the two of them have hearned a few well-earned concerned stares and disgusted glares.

"We should get out of here soon." Gabriel looks around nervously, ready to defend himself if necessary. And obviously he doesn't have to worry about Castiel who apparently is some celestial being with unparalleled strength. Or maybe Gabriel just feels this way because he's never been punched in the face before. That is entirely possible.

"You're only saying that because you created a scene that you wish had not occured quite in this fashion." Gabriel stops at stares at his brother, about to mutter some obscenity that would better go left unsaid. "You're being a baby, perhaps you should just own up to your immaturity."

"What makes this really sad...is that you're being sincere." Gabriel runs a hand through his hair. "I want you to know that if I embrace my weirdness...that bad things will happen."

And if that doesn't sound ambiguous as all get out, Cas doesn't know what does. Gabriel finishes off his turnover and starts sucking his fingers. Accompanying his unsanity actions with slurping and popping noises and a few more moans.

Cas squints his eyes and tilts his head to the side. It would be nice for just one to have a brother that isn't completely disgusting. But he tries his best to not notice and he eats his pastry and savours the taste. Never would he pass through Batavia, Illinois for a farmer's market again. There is only so much he can do within his possibly limited months.

Dean lies back and presses his fists into his eyes. No more. He tries to tell himself. No more ganking monsters or cross-country roadtrips. No more stealing credit cards from people. No more being alone. Alone. He glances around the motel room. Two beds.

He turns over, his back to the other bed. Instincts are dangerous to go on especially when emotions are involved. It takes everything in Dean to not want to curl up in a ball and sleep the rest of his life away. He wakes only to sleep and sleeps only to be able to sleep again.

Eventually, he falls into a fitful sleep. Dreams full of Hell and monsters. Of his brother being torn apart by a Hellhound. And of Crossroads and blood.

He wakes a few hours later, body cold and covered in sweat. His blankets have been kicked off of the bed. The world is still dark. But there's no better time to keep heading him than now. He doesn't look at the time. It's only a reminder of how long he'll be alone for the rest of the day.

Breakfast at a twenty-four hour diner. The waitress looks haggard and life-weary. The two share a look of understanding. He orders a slice of pecan pie, an omlette with a side of bacon, and a salad that he doesn't eat. Dean stares at the offending pieces of lettuce and spinach with a cross between anger and anguish. He slaps thirty bucks on the table when he's finished eating what he can stomach and leaves.

As he leaves, the sun begins it ascent into the sky. Guthrie, Oklahoma. Only a few more hours from Lebanon. Home to a empty bunker. Of ghosts. Of old stries. And of books. Dean climbs into Baby and takes a small comfort in the sound of her creaking doors.

And he drives. This is second nature. He enjoys the feel of each bump beneath the tires of his Impala. The sound of air rushing and being deflected by the windshield. The feel of worn leather beneath his hands. A home. And alone. He glances over at the passenger seat, feeling that familiar ache.

He has to stop. He needs to stop. Only a couple hours from home, but he needs to pull off the highway and relax. Wichita. And as soon as he gets close, Seven Nation Army comes on. And if that isn't good timing, Dean doesn't know what is.

Dean parks on the street and starts walking. No destination in mind. He just...needs to walk and take his mind off of a few things. He stops in some coffee shop and gets himself a large drip. Odin knows he needs it.

"This is it. This is the homestead of America. The heart of America. This is...the real America." A voice, slightly nasally and extremely sarcastic breaks Dean from his reverie.

Usually, he wouldn't even think of looking over. It wouldn't matter to him. He looks up and straight into the bright blue eyes of a man. And for a moment, a sort of tingling shoots through his left arm. The man's eyes are wide and confused.

"Bro." Both Dean and the other man snap their eyes and attention to a different man with light brown hair and golden eyes. "You alright? Usually you'd-" The shorter man looks over to where the taller one had been looking and his eyes fall on Dean.

"Winchester?"

"Trickster?"

A/N: Uhm...so...I realised that there would be no way in hell that Dean, depressed and angry, would ever even consider talking to someone unless he was connected to them somehow. And now he is. So...yeah. This should be fun. Yes, Sam will be in this. Because I can't keep up angst for too long. I'm sorry that so far this is really sad in Dean's point of view, so I'll make it happy soon. -Pyxie xx