It's official. Walking the graduation stage tomorrow...WOO HOO! As a way of celebrating, here's one of the three chapters to be posted this weekend! My treat!

Chapter 14- The News

Dean awoke to sunlight streaming through the curtains, warming his face. He slid a hand down his face sleepily, then stilled as he felt the bed move next to him. He turned towards the disturbance and found Naomi sleeping next to him. Yesterday's events rushed back and Dean leaned over to check on her. Her rosy face told him that the fever had broken. He smiled as he felt his body relax. She's safe.

Dean found himself continuing to watch Naomi, admiring how the light enhanced the freckles dotted across her nose and cheeks. He began to reach out to touch a few when he heard the sound of fizzing behind him.

Looking over his shoulder, he found Sam sitting on the edge of the bed, a cup of bubbling water in one hand and an Alka-Seltzer wrapper in another. Dean whispered, "Headache?"

Sam gulped down the cup and grimaced at it. "Like you wouldn't believe."

Dean chuckled and Sam grinned down at his feet. As the laughter subsided, something settled between them. Their eyes met and Dean saw Sam's apology for yesterday staring back at him. Dean knew he had apologies to make too. As he opened his mouth to beat Sam to the punch, he was interrupted by the flutter of wings.

Castiel appeared at the foot of the bed, his back to them. The first words out of his mouth were, "Where is she?"

Dean raised his eyebrows, then chuckled. "Nice to see you too, Cas."

Castiel wheeled around, wearing an unfamiliar expression. His blue eyes seemed electrified with an energy Dean hadn't seen in the angel before. After a moment, he realized it was anger. Dean stopped smiling.

Castiel switched his gaze between Naomi and Dean beside her. "You are lying in bed with the weapon to end the apocalypse." He stated it factually, but Dean couldn't help but feel heat on his face as he glanced at Sam, then at their angelic friend.

Dean spat out defensively, "Yeah. I had to keep an eye on her while you were off traipsing around the pearly gates. Naomi was dying, Cas. And where were you?"

Castiel stared darkly at Dean and slowly walked closer. Dean could hear the crackle of electricity in their room and felt his hair begin to stand on end. He had stepped too far.

Castiel replied, "I was warding off the evil I had warned you to avoid. You have beaconed your location by seeking them out and now all of Hell knows where to find you."

Dean swung his legs out of the bed and stood, facing off with the angel. "We took care of them just fine."

Castiel shook his head. "You are foolish to think that those demons came here for you." He looked over Dean's shoulder at Naomi. He continued, "She is in danger here."

He reached out his hand toward her, but Dean grabbed his wrist. Sam warned, "Dean!" but Dean didn't listen. Castiel met Dean's eyes and inspected him, the expression on his face the closest thing the angel could get to surprise.

Castiel explained, "I'm going to inscribe her with the same cloaking symbols that I placed on you."

Dean replied, not missing a beat and not releasing his grip on Castiel's wrist, "She needs to rest."

"She is in danger."

"You said that all of Hell already knows where we are. Carving her up won't help that."

Sam interrupted, "Dean, he can heal her completely and then we can leave." Anxiety was etched on Sam's face as he exchanged a glance between the two.

Castiel turned to Sam. "I cannot heal her."

Dean released him and stepped back. He and Sam asked simulataneously, "What?"

"Her Glory is more powerful than any of my powers. She can heal herself." He glanced at her sleeping peacefully in the bed. "She should have been fully healed by now."

The Winchesters exchanged a glance, then looked at Castiel. Sam said, "Castiel, we think Naomi has lost her Glory."

Castiel cocked his head slightly. "Glory cannot be lost. It can only be given or taken."

Dean stepped forward again. "Hold up. You're telling us that someone is taking her Glory?"

Castiel looked at Naomi for a moment, the wheels turning in the angel's head. After a moment, he turned to the brothers. "Yes."

Sam asked, "Who's taking it?"

"Only the One who gave it can take it away."

Dean scowled at Castiel. "So, God. God is taking away her Glory."

Sam whispered, "'The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away'." He looked at Castiel. "Job, right?"

Dean pushed past them. "Who cares who said it?" He turned back to the pair. "Who does He think He is, giving something like that to-" He glanced at Naomi. "-to someone, then taking it away for no reason?"

Castiel replied, "There must be a reason."

Dean strided over to Castiel, then leaned in close enough where their noses almost touched. He growled, "If there is a reason, it's one God is pulling it out from where the sun don't shine. She has done nothing to deserve this, do you hear me?" He pointed to her. "All she has done is cling to God! Don't you dare start blaming her for any of this!"

Castiel held Dean's gaze, inspecting him. He stated, "In the past, Glory has been taken because of disobedience or the loss of faith." He reached out towards Naomi and said, as she cried out, "Naomi will know why the Glory was taken." He disappeared.

Naomi's eyes were squeezed shut as she hugged herself, screaming out in pain.

Both Dean and Sam launched towards her, but Sam reached her first. He cupped her face in his hands and yelled, "Naomi, it's okay! It's over!"

Her eyes opened and wildly searched Sam's eyes staring back at her. Sam smiled, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. Dean found himself doing the same. He felt like it had been an age since he had seen those blue eyes.

Sam repeated, as he ran a thumb over Naomi's cheek, "It's okay. It's okay." Her breathing was heavy, but slowed as she calmed down. Then, Dean watched the memory of the events before the fever and the realization of what they meant wash over her face. She whispered hoarsely, "Sam…"

"I know, Naomi. I am so sorry."

Her lip trembled for a moment, then her face scrunched together as she began to cry. She covered her face with her hands and leaned into them, her body shaking. Sam, without hesitation, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her towards him. Naomi fell into his chest, the sound of her sobs escaping her hands and his shirt.

Dean watched the two, feeling as if he was intruding. His stomach knotted at the sound of Naomi's crying, longing to hold her like he had last night. He couldn't help but feel as if Sam had taken his rightful place. Or did you take his?

He slowly got off the bed, the room suddenly too hot and too small to stay in. He grabbed his coat and quietly left the room, saying, "I'll be back" to no one in particular. As he closed the door behind him, he took one last look into the room. The door shut on Sam kissing Naomi's forehead as he gently rocked her.

Dean found himself at the nearest bar once lunchtime rolled around. He felt like it had been too long since he last had a drink and after all that he had been through in the last forty-eight hours, the familiarity of a small town bar was what he needed. Since it was only lunchtime, the bar was practically empty, save for a few lonely stragglers and a couple of employees. Good. The last thing I need is a crowd.

Dean nursed a glass of whiskey as he stared up at the small TV that hung by the wall of liquor. It was on the news channel, broadcasting a story on a politician. The face was recognizable, having been on the cover of every newspaper, magazine, and TV channel Dean had come across for the past six months. Even though Dean wasn't much into politics, he knew enough to know the man on the screen was popular. He read the headline scrolling across the screen, proclaiming the name, William Cartee.

A sultry voice stole Dean's attention. "Want me to top that off?"

Dean glanced at the voice's owner, revealed to be the bartender. Dean would have appreciated her full lips and the curves her black shirt hugged flatteringly if he didn't feel as badly as he did. As he took note of her, lust was replaced with an empty feeling Dean was more than happy to leave a mystery and drown in booze.

He tossed back the remainder of his whiskey and pushed the glass towards her. "Absolutely."

She watched him as she poured the dark liquid into the glass. Not a drop missed its target. "Girl, money, or job?"

Dean raised a questioning eyebrow at her.

She placed the glass in front of him and leaned over the bar, giving Dean a front row view of her seemingly never-ending cleavage and a name tag that read "Tiffany" in big, bubbly letters. "There's only three reasons guys come in here looking the way you do. So, which one is it? Girl, money, or job?"

Dean gulped down the glass' contents and stared somberly back at her. "Job. Girl. Family. Take your pick."

Tiffany smirked. "Two for three."

Dean shot her a sarcastic smile as he pushed the glass towards her again. "Not the best score."

She stared down at his glass, then back at him, one eyebrow quirking upwards. "Not the best combination."

Dean scoffed, meeting her eyes. Tiffany spun the glass on its edge, the crystal glittering as the light caught it. She stated, as it slowed and stopped, "Let me guess. She left you for your brother."

Dean smirked bitterly at her. "Probably shouldn't look into fortune telling as a full-time thing."

Tiffany filled his glass again, but as he reached for it, she held it away from him and close to her chest. He stared at the glass for a moment, then slowly met her eyes. A knowing grin was spread across her face. "Ah. So, you're the homewrecker." She tilted her head playfully. "Why isn't your brother in here instead of you?"

Dean glowered at her. "I'm not a homewrecker."

She smiled smugly at him as she handed him his drink. He wrapped his hands protectively around it, warding off any future attempts to keep it from him. "Well, looks to me like you're thinking about being one. She must be quite the catch to be worth stealing her from your flesh and blood."

Dean didn't reply, emptying his glass as he watched the television. He was becoming less fond of Tiffany's company and her probing questions.

She followed his gaze and stared at the screen. She asked, awe ringing in her voice, "He's something, isn't he?"

Dean shrugged. "Don't know too much about him."

She turned to him, her eyes wide with surprise. "Do you live under a rock? He's the hottest topic right now!"

Dean watched the screen, nothing standing out to him particularly about William Cartee. "What's so special about him?"

Tiffany turned back to the screen and stared at it for a moment, watching the politician's face as he was being interviewed. After a moment, she replied, her voice distant, "He's just…different. He's one of those people that when he walks into a room, every eye is on him, you know?" She looked at Dean. "He's done a lot of good too." She counted off her fingers. "Built homeless shelters, lowered taxes, got bills passed for lots of different civil rights, the list goes on and on. People are saying that he's going to win the presidential election by a landslide. I wouldn't be surprised." She looked at Dean again. "Seriously, where have you been?"

Dean glanced at the screen again, now scrutinizing the face. He finished his drink. "Busy."

Tiffany reached her hand out for the glass, but Dean instead handed her some bills to cover his tab and her tip. He smiled. "While I can still remember my name."

Tiffany smiled coyly at him as she tucked the bills into her bra. "You know, you shouldn't drive after all that whiskey you've downed." She glanced at the clock, then back at Dean. "I need to take my lunch. Want to sober up at my apartment? It isn't far from here." Her finger slowly traced the rim of the glass, her hot pink nails glaringly bright.

Dean smiled at her as he stood to tuck his wallet back into his pocket. As he did so, Tiffany's face grew closer, her eyes focused on Dean's lips. Dean inhaled the smell of her strong perfume and the vanilla lipgloss on her lips. Vanilla…

He replied gruffly, "I need to be heading back."

She looked up at him through her eyelashes, whispering silkily, "To your job, girl, and family?"

Dean stepped back. "They need me."

As he walked out, Dean barely heard Tiffany call out over the bell that rang above his head, "Or is it you who needs them?"