Thank you so much for the reviews! This story is completely running away from me! I originally meant it to be five or so chapters but ideas just keep popping into my head. I blame Gabriel. If you've followed me this far, thank you for reading. It makes my day to see all your alerts and reviews.

Disclaimer: If I owned the rights to Supernatural (which I do not, sadly) I would never have let Gabriel die.

Chapter 4

Dean forgot his elaborate welcome speech. He forgot how he was supposed to grace the crowd with a wide smile and run his arm suavely down the banner as he descended. He forgot what he was wearing, what his name was even. He was instantly robbed of all higher brain function by a face he thought he'd never see again.

He hadn't forgotten that night in L.A.; a mop of artfully mussed black hair and a pair of piercing cerulean eyes haunted his dreams. Dean still wasn't sure what had possessed him to ask the guy to dance, but found that he couldn't erase the way he had felt pressed tight to the other man and the feel of the fingers that had wound through his hair as the beat pumped.

His body hadn't let him forget the blue-eyed stranger either. Right now, it furiously demanded he grab the man in question and resume where they had left off.

An awkwardly cleared throat brought him back to the moment.

"Apparently, all you lovely contestants just took Mr. Winchester's breath away. What a night!" The host, Gabriel, chuckled nervously. He beckoned to Dean in a tight motion and his gaze held an edge of panic in it.

That was all it took for Dean to remember himself. He would have to play the part expected of him until he could get some answers. His family expected it and Sammy needed it.

He smiled and strode warmly down the stairs to his guests. "Mr. Novak is right—I wasn't expecting to greet such a beautiful group of women." He paused awkwardly, realizing his error. "And men." He carefully avoided looking where he wanted to look the most.

Dean walked to where a vase of carefully preserved Colorado columbines had been placed. Grabbing the flowers, he said, "Welcome to my home. I hope that while you're here you'll feel like this is your home as well. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to getting to know every one of you and, of course, meeting that special contestant I might want to share my life with." His mouth moved automatically, reciting the words the show's producer had told him to say.

He was supposed to give a flower and a kiss on the cheek to each woman, but when he reached Blue-Eyes, he paused. Blue-Eyes stared at him and tilted his head expectantly. He raised an eyebrow, as if he understood Dean's predicament, but made no move to help him out.

"Uhh, here you go." He crammed the flower into the man's hand. Flowers were a stupid idea all of the sudden. "And I guess, errr…" He held his hand out awkwardly and tried to ignore the sparks of electricity that zinged through it when Blue-Eyes returned the handshake.

He turned around before he did something stupid like sweep the man into a desperate kiss or demand to know why he was on the show, and addressed the group. "I know this isn't a rose, but I hope you will all consider it to be at least the promise of a friendship for now."

Dean clasped his hands together. "Well, I guess you all will want a moment to check into your rooms and change for the evening's activities. Until we meet again!" Playing the part of a gracious host, he bowed dramatically while allowing himself a final long look at the man with the blue eyes. He had to force himself to stop staring and walk away.

Gabriel's eyebrows waggled. "He has a hot tub, ladies!" he cried and pulled a Speedo out of thin air to twirl around his fingers.

Instead of sleeping in the crew's quarters, Castiel was led to a bedroom on the west side of the house. Dark wooden floors stretched across the room to three large windows that faced the mountains. It had begun to snow lightly and a wave of white dusted the trees. A fire was already alight in an old-fashioned brick fireplace that sat in front of a comfortable queen sized bed.

He really didn't have anything to unpack. All his clothing had been deemed unsuitable or 'unemployed-esque' from Gabriel and had magically disappeared before he could pack. Castiel hoped his brother hadn't burnt the stuff like he had claimed; he was going to need it once he returned to the other side of the camera.

He peered into the washroom and discovered it was adjoined, Jack and Jill style, to the room next to his. A bright pink brush had already been laid out on the counter and a curling iron glowed next to the sink.

The door on the opposite side of the room creaked open and Sarah's wavy mane of hair peeked through. Castiel let out a sigh of relief and Sarah grinned when she saw who it was.

"Oh, good! I hoped it'd be you. After seeing all the time the other girls took to get ready for a single plane ride, I was afraid I'd never get to use the shower again!"

"You still might not. I think you should know I take horribly long showers and spend lots of time on my hair."

She brushed him aside with a punch to the arm. "Sure you do. I'm sure it takes hours to sculpt hair that deliberately messy. What are you going to wear? What do you even wear to something like this?"

"You really think I know the answer to that question? My brother confiscated my favorite trench coat on the grounds that I looked like a stalker."

She giggled. "Alright. As long as we both look like idiots then."

"I believe I can keep that promise," he said solemnly.

Sarah glanced down at her simple wool skirt, forest leggings and argyle blazer. "You know, I'm just going to wear this. I'm supposed to be liked for who I am, right? 'I live in a library' is definitely my style."

Castiel extended his arm and Sarah tucked her own through his. "Shall we?" he asked.

"Let's go for it," she said confidently. Castiel's gut twisted at the thought that he would see Dean again in just a few short moments. He couldn't tell if he was excited or if he was just going to throw up.

They worked their way toward the main rooms where the mixer was being held. However, as they passed through a long empty corridor, Castiel heard voices murmuring from under a partially closed door. He excused himself from Sarah and told her he'd join the party shortly; he just needed to use the restroom again.

Instead, he doubled back and crept within listening distance of the room where two male voices seemed to be arguing.

"It's good for publicity, okay? You should have seen your face when you spotted him—that's the look that sells shows. You don't have to keep him beyond tonight and there's still plenty of girls to choose from." The voice was rather high pitched and defensive.

"That's good because I'm not gay, Balthazar. I thought I was supposed to be told about stuff like this. This is my life, okay?" The second voice was definitely Dean and Castiel's stomach clenched in an unpleasant way.

Obviously, Dean regretted the night they spent together. Castiel slammed a fist into the solid floor and cursed Gabriel for getting him a job. This was why life was so much simpler behind the scenes.

The shadows shifted and Castiel was suddenly afraid someone had heard him. Without a second look back, he scrambled down the hallway and prayed that the night would pass quickly.

Dean sat back down; he thought he'd heard someone. "Look, Bal, I get that you're interested in ratings, but it's already hard enough that I'm somehow supposed to convince the public that I'm this nice, regular American guy without having you throw things like this at me. Sam needs this chance. I can't mess it up with someone like Blue-Eyes."

"You nicknamed him?" The spiky-haired producer picked at his nails.

Dean flushed. "No, it's just that he has really blue eyes. It just popped out of my mouth."

A look of understanding passed across the producer's face. "He is rather attractive…sure you want things to end tonight?"

Dean narrowed his eyes. "This isn't about me. You're getting a show, my family's getting a second chance and that's it. I'll go home with whoever they want."

"Quite a martyr, aren't you? Have you ever asked yourself what you want?"

Dean didn't know how to reply to that. He was honestly a little afraid of the answer.

To Be Continued...