Then I woke up one day; said I'm not runnin' home:It's just not like me.
'Cause I like a challenge an' I like to fly, I'm not always perfect; I'm not always right.

Taking Back My Brave – Carolyn Dawn Johnson

Chapter 3

The sun rose early and stifling over Jericho the next day, and the parched looking trees lining the road into town stood dead-still in the non-existent wind. As Cas drove slowly through the intermittent stripes of shadow thrown by the differently sized trunks, he yawned, trying to shake off the drowsiness that had been bothering him all morning – definitely the consequences of not bothering to unpack the coffee maker before passing out he decided, resigning himself to yet more unpacking when he got back, and learning how to use the various appliances picked up from the hurried last-minute trip around ikea three days earlier.

The car gave a worried shudder, and Cas held his breath, praying for the engine to not overheat and give out on him again. Driving around town all morning had ended up being of little use, and he winced as he remembered some of the looks he'd been given from various residents. The hardware store, the off-licence, the garage and repairs shop – he'd been all but laughed away from all of them on enquiring for a job. Even the friendly looking woman who ran the diner had only seen fit to coldly suggest the -currently closed for summer- high school on the outskirts of the town as the only place for miles which might be hiring. It was definitely turning out to be one of those towns it seemed, and after contemplating his day, Cas concluded that his initial reception from the stand-offish guy at the gas station had actually been the friendliest one so far. His phone buzzed irritatingly in his pants pocket, reminding him once again that he really had to bite the bullet and call somebody back sometime soon. No doubt Aunt Gloria had already been on the phone to at least one of his brothers announcing his arrival. He sighed, and pulled into a parking space beside a walled fish pond, which offered a slight relief from the sun by way of a large oak tree leaning precariously over it at an alarming angle. Cas gulped down the last of his water and tossed the bottle over onto the passenger seat, before reluctantly pulling out his phone and staring at the missed calls list. 4 different brothers and his father – he scanned the list, closed it down and hit his speed dial button. Never mind he thought, as the phone began its tinny ring and connected with a sharp dial tone.

'Cas?'

'Hello Gabriel.'

His brother chuckled down the scratchy line. 'Before you even ask, I am so not calling Dad for you. I'm assuming you've arrived and that's why you're calling off this crappy line with a private number?'

'If it was a private number how could you have possibly known it was me?' Cas sighed, already anticipating a long and tiring conversation. He sank down further into the driver's seat and closed his eyes. Gabriel outright laughed this time.

'Who else is going to ring me on a private number?' the sound of traffic overtook the line for a few seconds, drowning out his next words. '...on earth you would call probably the only person who hasn't been calling you 10 times a day since you left – not that I don't care – I'm just not quite as bothered though if I'm honest little brother, I know unpacking is the worst and-'

'Gabe? Shut up for two seconds please' Cas interrupted, breaking into the other man's near unstoppable stream of consciousness. 'Can you just call them and say I got here ok? Please?'

A tiny sigh came from the other end. 'Why don't you just call Balthy? Or are you two not best of friends any more, hmm?'

'You know how he feels about my leaving, and even if he didn't, you know Father would be listening in on the other end any way. If you call... well, they don't mind you so much.' He broke off as Gabriel started laughing wildly. 'Are you listening to me?'

'Yeah, yeah' Gabriel coughed and stopped laughing. 'Look, just because I left three years ago and you left, what, three days ago, doesn't mean I'm all of a sudden the golden boy. Although maybe you will take the heat off me a little, hadn't thought of that, it does get a bit boring being the only black sheep after a while...' he trailed off thoughtfully, and Cas paused.

'You'll call them?'

'Yes, yes. Now tell me, how is old Gloria's house? That town as dead-end as I remember it?' he asked, tone slightly more serious. 'I still can't understand why you'd choose that over the bright lights of the city' he said, his voice rising to shout over a passing car as he finished his sentence.

'Not all of us are built to withstand the debauchery of New York, Gabe.' Cas sighed, 'And yes, to answer your question, it unfortunately seems to be. I don't think I've got a chance at a job until at least September when the school opens back up, then maybe I can apply for a teaching position.'

'Oh that's how it is, is it?' he replied in a mock-offended manner, and Cas could almost picture his over-exaggerated face as he said it. 'Look brother. You want my advice? Park that old car somewhere shaded, find the nearest deadbeat bar and drink yourself stupid, just this once. You'll feel better once you have, I promise you.' A car horn blared loudly over the phone. 'I got to go, my rides here. Keep in touch kid!'

'Don't forget to call Da-!' Cas started, but found himself speaking to a dial tone. He glared at the phone in his hand for a few moments; as was usual after talking to Gabe, not entirely sure whether to be annoyed or thankful. After a few minutes contemplation, he grabbed his wallet from the dashboard and set down the main street. Damn it, he was going to get drunk. Nothing else to do anyway.

Dean noticed the odd atmosphere almost as soon as he stepped in the door of Steve's, and not just the usual Thursday mid-afternoon depression either. However, it took walking to the bar and sitting down before he could pinpoint why – it was quiet. Yes, the jukebox rattled on in the corner and the glasses were clanking noisily in the dishwasher beneath the bar, but other than that, nothing. No arguments, no drunken middle-aged women, not even Steve chatting to his kids over the phone. He waved Steve over with a cautious hand, noticing his wary expression.

'What's going on here man, someone died or something?' he asked, trying to keep his tone light and playful. Chances are if somebody had died everyone would have known before lunch time, so there was no reason to be worried about that. Steve smiled weakly, and inclined his head towards a usually unoccupied booth by the far window, never a popular choice for the townspeople due to the way the afternoon sun beat down hard on the leather seats. 'He showed up earlier, nobody seems to know him. He's been drinking my spirits dry all afternoon. You got any idea who he is, because honestly I really don't think he can stay here much longer.' Dean turned, and groaned.

Half sprawled across the table and surrounded by empty glasses sat a young, dark haired man with tired but piercing blue eyes and a weary expression. He sighed deeply and picked up his drink. Obviously this evening wasn't quite going to turn out the way he had planned.

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