Dean drove Castiel to work. He came back to the dorm building and Samandriel caught him in the hallway, asking him questions about homework. He asked about the new truck, too, and Dean laughed, dangling the keys. Sam just laughed and pushed his shoulder. They parted shortly after. Dean finished his homework, and went to pick him up again at nine. He was happier and happier with the truck as he drove it. It was loud and rumbly, which he loved, and the back window was easy to open. He got a nice cross draft with it. Leaning his arm out the window, he sighed and smiled, smoothing it around turns. It was a bit jerky, but it just hadn't been run in a few weeks, so it would catch back up. He'd refueled when he dropped Cas off so she had a nice full tank of 89 too.
It had rained while he was doing homework, so the road and hills glistened with it. The darkness of the evening was a bit heavier because of the cloud cover but everything was still and cool and hummed with happy grasshoppers and frogs. The air was crisp and humid and he breathed it in deeply. Going through the busy part of town, he slid into the parking lot of the paint shop and picked a parking spot. He pushed in the e-brake and put it in park and shut off the truck. Like he did every night, he got out of the truck, going inside the shop with an easy gait. Sometimes Cas ran a bit late – Dean had found his boss to be amiable, so they usually chatted a bit before Castiel was finished with his work.
Dean leaned against the empty counter inside. Hearing voices, he glanced towards an aisle to see the manager giving a pitch to a new couple. No chat, then. He shrugged and looked towards the doors in the back. Castiel usually came out of there. His trench coat over his arm, his hair mussed, cheeks flushed. He was really good at what he did – he picked all the right hues for the colors they needed sorted and put them in all the right places. It was the job of the other two guys who worked with him, John and Wayne, but Castiel always got the least lectures from their boss when a customer had to return a wrong color.
Tonight, Castiel burst through the doors and ran smack into Dean at a run, which kicked Dean's instincts on high. He grabbed Cas by the shoulders worriedly. "What is it, what's wrong?" He asked sharply, assuming the worst. He'd torn out of there like a bat out of hell. You didn't do that unless you were running from something, or someone.
Castiel was shocked to have crashed into him. He stared at Dean, frozen, with wide eyes brimmed with red. They swam with emotion. "I-I-" His Adam's apple bobbed. "It's nothing, I'm fine." He managed, flustered, and sniffed like he was suppressing something. He stepped back from Dean.
"You don't look fine." Dean pushed, eager to get to the root of his problem.
Castiel gave him an irritated look. His eyes darted to his boss and the customers, who were staring. "I said I was fine, Dean," he said tartly. "Can we go?"
The look of seething pain on his face made Dean's fear hit a wall. He swallowed. "Yeah. Yeah, of course." Cas ducked outside haughtily. With one last glance at the back door, seeing two curious faces pressed to the glass window, Dean frowned and followed him. What the hell would make him act like this? Did he get ridiculed, did something try and hurt him? He didn't look roughed up. Just… a mix of a lot of bad things all at once.
Castiel was in the truck, hunched, staring at his shoes when Dean shut his door and looked over. "Cas," he tried again, "Are you-"
"Dean," Cas warned. "Not right now. Just… Just give me a minute. Can we go eat?"
"Wh… Sure, all right." Dean conceded. Puzzled and frustrated he pulled off and began to head for an all-night diner. The fifteen minute ride was mostly silent. Castiel was staring out the window and pressed entirely against his side of the truck. Dean would glance over every now and then, hoping for a glimpse of something, but he was getting nothing from the chicken. They pulled into the diner and Cas was inside before Dean had shut his door. Exasperated, he followed close behind, sliding in across from Cas at the booth he'd chosen. It was the only one facing away from the small crowd at the bar laughing and making a lot of noise. "Cas, what's going on with you?" Dean asked as he glanced around. "Since when are you hungry at night?"
"Samandriel is dead." Castiel blurted, looking him full in the face.
Dean paled considerably. Everything seemed to pause in time. The clock on the wall stopped ticking. Every thought he was having froze and shattered like ice on asphalt. "E… Excuse me?" He stammered out. "Dead? I just saw him, he literally just asked me about homework we had-"
"Dean," Cas snapped, angrily. Then he lowered his voice. "My mother called me at work. She told me his parents reported him missing months ago, and his body was found last night in a cemetery crypt. It was all over the news." His blue eyes were cold and hard. "She wanted to ask if I was going to his funeral."
The words pouring out of his mouth were like a foreign language. None of that made sense. He'd known Samandriel for a few weeks now, he was just some guy who went to school with Cas. Right? It was like a hole was torn in Dean's heart and it sucked him inside. "No." He whispered. The blonde hair. The bright eyes. The shy shuffle of his feet. I mean, he was a really nice kid, he couldn't be…? Samandriel? Dead? Months missing. A body. Even worse than dead, could it be that the Samandriel Dean knew wasn't… real?
"Dean, please tell me you didn't lie about Samandriel," Cas demanded fiercely, "how did you know about him? How did you know he liked me, and why did you make me think he was living there? Right beside us? How could you-"
"Cas," Dean interrupted his ranting with a swift hand motion, which let the dark haired male lapse into a hurt, furious silence. His eyes screamed with it. "Please, Cas, I need to call Sam. It's urgent. I'll be right back, ok? Don't go anywhere. Please." Castiel stared at him hard, his eyes flickering angrily, and Dean's terrified but calm ones did nothing but make them more desperate. Making a 'stay' motion tentatively, Dean slid out of the booth and slid into the men's room, locking the door behind him. His phone flipped into his hand like lightning and before long it was ringing and he was pacing the linoleum.
"Dean?" Came Sam's fuzzy voice over the line.
"Sam," Dean hissed, "We got a problem, a big problem – a fuckin' huge problem." His voice echoed around the bathroom, bouncing off the walls and doors and windows, and filling his ears with different shades of his own shaking voice.
"What the hell happened?"
"Samandriel. The kid who lives beside us in our building. Or did. Or I thought he did, anyway. He's a damn monster, Sammy. His body was found on the news this morning." When he rambled the shades of his voice rambled, too; they filled his head with nonsensical garble.
"Did he get killed today in an accident? That doesn't exactly-"
"No, Sammy, you don't get it," Dean made a noise of frustration that echoed. "His parents reported him missing months ago! Months! I've been talking to a monster for two damn weeks!"
A shocked pause. "Are you sure, Dean? I mean it couldn't be someone else or-"
"OF COURSE I'M SURE - EVERYTHING WAS LEGIT, SAM."
"Ok, ok! I'm on my way to campus."
"No! We're at the diner, I'm taking Cas back to his parents. I'll meet you back here in twenty."
"What? Why?"
"We don't know what it is, let alone how to kill it. Hit the web when you get here, Sammy, 'cause we got a case on our hands." Hanging up, Dean unlocked the door and shot out, looking wildly for Castiel. The smothering sound of his own voice died. But when he stepped around the crowd, he saw their booth standing empty. Castiel was gone. "Dammit!" Dean swore loudly, alarming the other customers. He was gone too quickly for anyone to ask questions. Stalking up and down the sidewalk - checking for footprints, a gum wrapper, anything to lead him to his lover – Dean felt his chest caving in. He found nothing. The truck was empty, and there was no sign of Cas anywhere. He had run off. And there was a monster running loose with a crush on him.
John and Wayne aren't bs names, by the way. My friend and his brother are in this story as (unimportant)fluffy morons.