Dean ran his hand back through his hair, letting out a long-suffering sigh. The snow drifting steadily down on the highway in his headlights made him think about going light-speed in the Millennium Falcon. He was in Illinois somewhere. He slowed the car slightly, glancing at the passing highway markers. How the hell did I get this far east?
He meant to be on I39 and instead was on I55. I knew I did something wrong after I went through Normal. I mean really...what the hell kinda name for a town is Normal?
Yep, that had to have been it. He had been on such a mental tirade about what normal really was anyway, and he must have gotten distracted. He would have been to Benson by now. He signaled and got off I55.
Pontiac, Illinois...wonderful. I need a friggin map.
Dean pulled into a gas station in the small town. He pulled out his cell phone and got out of the car, stretching. He checked for messages. None. He waded through the ankle deep snow to get inside.
In the small, obnoxiously bright store, he got a burrito, chips, a coffee and a map. And beef jerky.
After paying, he stepped aside and opened the map.
What an idiot I am! Hey...historic Route 66! Now that sounds like fun!
Dean folded up the map and stepped into the freezing night air. It was still snowing. He stood under the overhang, not quite ready to get back in the car. He pulled his phone out. Dialed. And sighed for the oncoming beratement from his dad.
"Yeah," the gruff voice of his father met his ears.
"Hey, dad. I uh...got a bit off track."
"What do you mean? Where are you, you idiot!"
"Pontiac." Dean glanced over, semi tuning-out the endless anger that poured through the phone. A light clicking sound had caught his ear. A small dog huddled on the sidewalk only two feet from him. The clicking was the dog's nails on the concrete sidewalk. Dean glanced around. No one seemed to be with it.
"Dean! Get your head outta yer ass and get back on the road! I want that shipment picked up by morning. If you can't even do this right, then don't bother coming back!"
Dean shook his head slightly. He had heard that statement so many times. So, why do I always go back?
"Get that shipment-"
The dog stepped closer to Dean with painful hesitation. Dean looked around again. No one was around. The dog whined. Dean looked at it, making eye contact with desperate big honey colored eyes on what looked like a too-small German Shepherd. Dean sighed. The dog dipped its head, looking away. A tremble ran through the thin frame and it whimpered.
Awwww...come on! I do not have time for this! But it looks so cold...
"I knew I shoulda just sent Ruby! She has more sense than you ever had!"
Dean rolled his eyes. Ruby worked at his dad's shop. She was a bitch. Even if Sam had dated her briefly and still said she wasn't that bad, she was a bitch.
"Dad," Dean interrupted. "It's snowin pretty bad here. I think I'm gonna have to-"
"You get yer lazy ass back in that car and get to Benson! I expect my parts on my doorstep tomorrow morning, or you can just-"
Dean looked down at the dog eyes that pleaded with him worse than even Sammy could.
"Yeah, Okay, dad." Dean hung up the phone. His dad was drunk and grouchy. Pretty much always. But his hatred of Dean had come from catching him out in the shop with another guy. Yeah, gay people hid in his hometown. And the guy was a dead ringer for Scott Bayo...I mean, come on! He was hot!
And Sam was a general disappointment to their dad because he wanted "that fancy degree to go be an asshole".
Dean squatted down, holding his hand out to the shivering dog. He scratched behind its snow covered ears and the dog whined. Dean inspected it gently. Nails too long. Matted coat. Skinny. Muddy legs. And a slight limp.
"Where should you be, buddy?"
The dog pleaded with his eyes. Dean grinned a smirk and pulled out his burrito.
The dog trembled harder, watching with a new alertness as Dean unwrapped the paper. He tore off a bite and put it on the ground. The dog waited until his hand had moved and gobbled the bite quickly. His tail wagged slightly.
The manager of the store opened the door and Dean turned to look. He was glaring over Dean's shoulder and held a 2 liter bottle of soda up like a football. Dean turned back and the dog was gone. He stood.
"Stupid dog! Hope he runs out into traffic!"
Dean narrowed his eyes at the skinny, hateful douchebag.
Humanity. Now there are the monsters. Poor dog probably never hurt anything. And people. People suck.
Dean followed the tracks in the falling snow, finding the dog under the dumpster around the corner.
"Hey, come on," he called. The dog poked its head out further, glancing fearfully for the manager.
"Come on, let's go. Wanna go for a ride?"
The dog crawled out and followed Dean with its head held low, like it had been beaten.
Dean opened the car door and the dog got in, sitting on the floor board of the passenger side seat.
He fed the rest of the burrito to the dog, bite by bite. He started the car, turning the heat on and the dog curled into a ball on the floor. Yeah, I'm tired too.
Dean felt like a jerk, but he typed in animal shelters on his phone. Three. I mean, there was no way he could keep the dog. But hey, he was getting it off the streets! He called the first number. No answer. Dean glanced around. It was getting late. And the snow... He tried the second number.
"Novak's no-kill animal sanctuary. How can I help you?"
The voice on the line was warm and deep. Like velvet to his ears. His cock gave a jump. He quirked a grin at his own ridiculousness.
"Hi...I found a dog...I guess I need to bring it in."
"If you feel safe traveling in this weather, sir, you are welcome to bring it in."
God, it was like pure butter to his ears. "Um, yeah," Dean blushed.
I'm freakin blushing! I so need to get laid sometime this century before I blow.
"We are on Route 66. Just after the big shoe, turn left and,"
"Shoe?" Dean quirked.
"Uh...yeah...it's a big shoe."
Dean laughed. "I got it on google maps, man. Says I'll be there in 12 minutes."
"Oh, ok. I will see you then."
Dean hung up. The snow was swirling in dizzying loops as he navigated his way onto Route 66.
"Yeah, Baby!" Dean grinned, patting the dashboard. "I knew you would like Route 66! Feels good, doesn't it?" Dean glanced down at the dog, who was watching him with a slight tilt to his head. Dean shook his head and grinned, pushing play on his tape deck. The Doobie Brothers, Rockin Down The Highway blared and Dean nodded along.
He wished he could see more of the famous Route 66, but the snow was making it difficult to even stay on the road. If he hadn't had gps, he would have never made it down the three small roads that led to a large property the gps said "you have reached your destination" on his phone. The dog perked up, putting his front paws on the passenger seat. Dean patted his head and the dog looked at him with such joy that Dean felt a rock hit his gut. "Yeah, you'll like it here. It's no killing...so...there's that."
The front door opened, the silhouette of a man in the doorway. Dean shut the engine off and headed toward the doorway, with the dog at his heels.
Dean blinked snow out of his eyes, running a hand through his hair to shake out the water. The dog shook as well. Dean blinked, taking in the image of the man in front of him. He stood, having shut the fowl weather out, watching Dean with a glint of something in his eyes. Dark brown hair, almost black, was disheveled in a way that made Dean want to touch it. And bluest of blue eyes, wide and curious. He was bundled in multiple layers of shirts and coats, with jeans and boots. He was much younger than the man had sounded that answered the phone. Maybe they weren't the same person. For a brief, breathless moment, Dean wondered if he had stumbled onto a collection of hot men...well, that wasn't advertised on the Route 66 maps!
"Hello. I'm glad you made it." The voice was the same as the one on the phone. Dean had to clear his throat and get a grip.
"Yeah. It was getting pretty bad." Dean swallowed, watching the man watch him. "Uh...this is the dog."
The man pulled himself out of his daze and smiled, making Dean melt. "Yes," he said, squatting and opening his hands toward the dog. The dog took three tentative steps toward the awaiting hands, smelling him thoroughly. He petted his head. "Male. Maybe two years old. Shepherd...something mix." He looked up at Dean. "Where did you find him?"
"Uh..the gas station...right off 55. Gas-n-Sip, I think."
He nodded, standing and walking over to a counter to fill out some paperwork. Dean looked around the small lobby. One wall was covered with pictures of dogs, cats, and a few horses. Descriptions were pinned by each picture. Dean frowned at the sad furry faces. He had never had a pet. He had never really wanted one. Sam had. Dean could barely manage to take care of Sammy and himself, let alone a pet. And who knew how their dad would have treated it. Yeah, it wasn't worth the potential problems in his problematic life. "These animals all here?" Dean asked, glancing back at the man at the counter. His head of slightly messy hair was bent over a form he was filling out.
"Yep."
Dean nodded, wandering to another wall of photos. These animals were all with people.
"Those are the ones we have placed in homes."
Dean nodded. He noticed the light in the animals eyes. Such a difference from the lonely looks on the other wall. These animals had found their family. He glanced back at the counter, finding the man was watching him.
"So...thanks," Dean stammered.
"Well, is there any way you want to keep the dog at home with you until we can find a home for him?"
"Uh, no. I'm just passing through. I'm lost actually. I mean...not anymore. I was lost when I found him. And I have to get back on the road tonight. I'm supposed to be in Benson, Illinois, not...Pontiac, or wherever I am now."
"Oh," the man looked down.
Does he look disappointed? No...
"I can leave my contact information," Dean offered. Not sure that was necessary or whatever, but hey.
He smiled and Dean melted again. "That would be great."
Dean crossed the nondescript whitish tile floor and put his arms up on the tall ledge of the counter. "Name's Dean. Dean Winchester."
A noise of some sort. He was sure it wasn't a moan or a purr...but there was a noise, brief as it was from the chapped lips under those ridiculous blue eyes. "Nice to meet you, Dean. I'm Castiel. Novak."
Dean grinned. "Castiel. That's different."
"Yeah," he ducked his head. Me and my siblings are all named after Angels. It's a...family thing."
Dean noted he did not sound too thrilled with the tag. Or perhaps his family. Dean nodded. He quirked a grin. "I'm named after some bad-ass." And I've been a let down ever since for the old man.
Castiel was grinning. "That sounds way cooler than Angels."
"Yeah. Well. Perspective, I guess." Again their eyes lingered longer than would be normal. Normal. I'm not being normal. I should be looking at chicks like that. Whatever. Fuck normal. That's what got me in this mess to begin with.
"So, you are heading out? To...Benson?" Castiel said quietly.
"Yeah, and I better get goin. I'm already in a shit-load of trouble with my dad for being behind schedule.
Cas nodded. "Well, it was nice meeting you, Dean. Thank you for taking the time to bring in the dog. This is no weather to be lost in."
"Yeah, tell me about it," Dean mumbled, thinking about where he was going.
"Nice to meet you too. Castiel."
Is he blushing? Dean grinned. It made him want to say his name again to see if he could make the blush darker. He bit his lip and shoved the idea away. He walked to the door, the dog on his heels again. "Oh, no, buddy," Dean laughed.
Castiel came around the counter with a leash and collar. "Sorry."
Dean squatted down next to him. "No problem. You stay here with Cas. He'll find you a good home." His hand ran over the dog's head, bumping into Castiel's. He froze, looking over at Castiel who was mere inches from his face.
"I will," Castiel murmured. "I will take good care of him."
Dean sighed softly and grinned. Breaking the gaze felt like breaking a link to something better. They both stood and Dean held out his hand. "Thanks," Dean offered. Yeah, it was an excuse to touch him again. Castiel moved the leash to his left hand and shook Dean's hand warmly. Again, a second longer than normal. Dean let go and looked down at the dog. "You are one lucky guy." Dean threw the blue eyed animal savior a flirtatious grin. What the hell does it matter. Not like I will ever see him again.
Dean stepped out the door quickly into the bitter cold night. Back in his car, he took a deep breath and started the engine. He backed out the rural driveway to make a three point turn. He put it in drive and...slid.
"Shit." He backed and pulled forward inch by inch. Finally sideways, his tires spun. He jumped when there was a knock on his window. Cas smiled down at him. a hundred coats and shirts and those sparkling eyes. Dean rolled the window down a few inches, snow trickling in onto his armrest.
"Maybe you should stay," Castiel said, a look of concern on his face.
Dean swallowed. Oh shit. Yeah, no. That can't happen.
"Naw, man, I just need a little push."
Castiel nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line. He circled around to the back of the car and rocked and pushed as Dean pressed on the accelerator. Four good rocks and the tires caught. He was off, turned and lumbered down the windy lane. He glanced in his rear view mirror at the man waving to him. Dean looked back to the lane ahead and watched helplessly as the car slid off the to the side and was again stuck. "Sonofabitch!"
He tried. And tried. Nothing. "Why you doin this to me Baby?" he moaned. He looked in the rear view mirror again as the man stood there, huddled in the falling snow. He had no where to go. He huffed a sigh. His father would be livid. If he weren't such a bitch-ass pansy, he coulda got out of this situation. Dean shoved the hateful thoughts away. "Fuck you, dad. Guess I'm not gonna make your fucked-up deadline." He turned and grabbed his bag from the backseat and trudged his way back to Castiel.
"Got room for one more stray?" he grinned.
"Always!" Castiel beamed.