Chapter 5
Sometimes I dream I'm driving
Down an old dirt road, Not even listed on a map
Mayberry - The Rascal Flatts
Cas shifted uncomfortably in the tight, curled up position he found himself in, reluctant to open his eyes to the brightness he could feel burning through his lids already. The bed was certainly a lot smaller that he remembered, and honestly, how wasted must he have been to have not even got under the covers? He buried into the rough fabric beneath his face. Maybe it was the heat (or more likely the copious amounts of spirits he'd stupidly been kidding himself he could manage, a vicious little voice whispered in the back of his head), but for the second night in a row his dreams were getting to be very strange indeed. Full of long roads, spilling over with liquid sunlight tonight, thick as treacle and waist deep as he tried to struggle through it. He yawned, and opened his eyes a crack, still face down in an awkward position where he lay.
Green fabric?
Cas shot up, suddenly more awake than he'd felt since leaving Jamestown. His surroundings flooded into his vision all at once with the bright sunlight from the window. The beat up sofa he had been curled up on, the small TV in the corner of the room, the sole picture above the mantelpiece, and the other assorted features of a room used rarely and by few people. He stood up gingerly, legs cracking loudly from stiffness, and walked towards the fireplace, praying to whatever God was listening that he hadn't been kidnapped by one of his older brothers in the night.
The small photograph in the simple frame that hung there was not old, a few years at most and showed three men grinning awkwardly at the camera, clearly uncomfortable with having their photos taken. An older man stood in the middle with one hand thrust in his pocket and an old baseball cap perched on his head. His right arm was thrown around the shoulders of a boy much taller than him, dressed in a garish blue robe and tightly clutching what must be a high school diploma in his hand. Cas squinted at the photo through bleary, sleep-filled eyes, which seemed to be persisting despite his immediate sense of alert at the strange surroundings. To the left of the older man stood another young man, a little shorter than the graduating boy with short brown hair. His smile didn't quite reach his eyes, and even the freckles scattered across his face failed to lend him the child-like aspect that shone brightly from the other boy. Some distant cog turned and clicked into place deep in Cas's brain. No…
'You're awake' a voice from behind him made Cas jump, and spin to face the door. How could a door that cheap not creak when it was opened? He glared towards the figure that stood there rather awkwardly, holding an unopened bottle of water. Dean raised his eyebrows at the excessively hostile reception he was getting, and held out the bottle. 'Figured you might be wanting this?' Still no reaction from the other man, who had almost frozen into place upon turning around.
'Well… okay then. You can find your way out' Dean tossed the water bottle onto the couch and turned to leave, wondering why on earth he hadn't made coffee before attempting conversation with the weird stranger who had talked at him like a Harvard grad then passed out on his couch the night before.
'Wait.' Cas croaked, his voice much scratchier than he remembered. He coughed, and Dean nodded towards the bottle on the couch. He picked it up and took a grateful gulp, before carefully tightening the lid again and placing it onto the side table next to him. 'Where am I?' he tried again, pleased to find his voice a little stronger.
Dean laughed. 'You don't remember?' Cas started, and shook his head violently. He shut his eyes, preparing himself for the worst. Dean frowned. 'Hey, it's fine. I'm not surprised, with the amount of Jack you managed to get through last night.' He sat down on the couch. 'Not really a long story. You drank Steve's Place half dry, passed out at the table and since nobody knew where you lived and you were freaking people the hell out, I dragged you back here. Figured I'd give you some coffee and sober you up enough to get yourself home, but you passed out here on the couch.' He cleared his throat, glancing up at Cas who still looked like he was ready to pass out again. 'I've dragged the odd member of the town back to their houses on occasion they have too much to drink… it's not a big deal' he muttered, almost ready to give up on this kid. He stood up and held his hand out to Cas, who opened his eyes quickly and stared at it, then looked up at Dean.
'Thank you' Cas muttered, barely audible, but not taking the proffered hand in front of him. 'I - I don't think I remember hearing your name at any point.' Dean smiled slightly. The kid must just be embarrassed about over-doing it. Either that, or there was something he was seriously missing from this situation. 'It's Dean.' Cas opened his mouth to reply, but Dean sniggered and held up his hand. 'I caught yours, Castiel. You want coffee?' Cas shut his mouth and nodded dumbly, following Dean through into the kitchen slowly, willing his feet to move normally.
Sat at the tiny kitchen table with mugs of black coffee, Dean was feeling much better about the situation as a whole. Yes, the weird kid still hadn't said another word, and was staring at his coffee like he was scared of drowning in it, but all in all, it could have gone much worse. Heck knows he'd had worse mornings, anyway. He looked up across the table at Cas, who was now staring straight over at him in an unnerving way. Dean gulped down the last dregs of coffee and set the mug back down. 'So. North Dakota, eh?' Cas frowned slightly, brow furrowing as if trying to work something out. 'I er, saw your licence. Trying to find out where you lived… I put it back' Dean trailed off lamely, starting to become uncomfortable at the lack of responses he was getting. Usually all people did was talk at him.
'Jamestown' Cas answered quietly, taking a tentative sip of his coffee. Dean could have cried with relief; at least he wasn't talking to himself anymore.
'Yeah, I've been.' Cas raised an eyebrow. 'Used to travel a lot. Sam and I - that's my little brother - we were sort of army brats for a while. Stayed in North Dakota for about six months at one point I think.' The silence that followed was broken by a high-pitched ringing from Cas's pocket. He grabbed his phone and sighed after glancing at the name on the screen, and stood up. 'I'm sorry, I should take this' he said quietly, as Dean nodded and waved him out of the kitchen to the equally silent hallway. Picking up the empty mugs he made his way over to the sink, and paused near the door, wondering who would be calling at 8 in the morning to justify a private call. Cas's voice floated in, suddenly as articulate as he'd heard last night.
'Yes, I got your messages… Because I didn't feel I had to, okay? Didn't Gabe tell you I arrived safe?… Yes. Yes, I'm aware… No I don't want to talk to him at all… Uriel, you know exactly why… No. No. Goodbye.'
Dean hurried over to the sink and threw the cups down, trying to look busy. He glanced casually over his shoulder to see Cas pocketing his phone again and glaring at him. 'I know you were listening' he muttered. Dean shook his head, wiping his hands off on a nearby tea towel.
'Come on man. Castiel? Uriel? I'm starting to wonder if I'm being punked here.' Cas frowned again, tiny creases appearing between his eyebrows, and then sighed. 'My family are… devout' he started, before shaking his head. 'It's a long story.'
Dean nodded. 'Yeah, well, I got plenty of those.' he grabbed his coat from the back of the chair and gestured towards the front door. 'You comin'? I gotta get to work and you gotta show me where you live for the next time you decide to pass out on me.' Cas nodded weakly, and followed the other man out into the warm heat of the road outside. The oak tree that marked where his car was resting in the shade caught his eye just a few feet away from the door of the ground floor apartment, and he almost smiled. Maybe today was going to be better than the confusing morning had promised.
As those of you who have followed my other stories probably know, I typically write my longest and most detailed chapters during exam season between the hours of 10pm-4am, because I'm just that masochistic. You know the drill though - review if you loved it/hated it/want to eat it/etc. I love the little readership we've got going on here so thank you all for reading :) you're awesome.