A.N: This is the first of (an unknown number of) mini-chapters that deals with a few of the characters and their random interactions. Some interludes will be fluffy, or humorous, or angsty, but none will go above the over-all rating of the story. Skipping these will not detract from the over-all story; these are like fics of a fic.

First Interlude: Dean/Cas hinted at, angsty.

Interlude – 1

The Doctor was sleeping, or whatever it was that Time Lords did if it wasn't sleep. Dean Winchester had no data for or against the notion that aliens slept like humans, nor did he really care to acquire any. All that mattered to him at the moment was that he couldn't sleep. Dean was no stranger to long nights spent wide awake, mind whiskey-soaked but still insistent on throwing nightmare after nightmare his way. But it had been a while since he'd been kept awake by the demons in his past.

He sat with the TARDIS door open so that his legs dangled out into space—literal space, since the Doctor had left his ship floating around in some universe or other. Somehow the air didn't go rushing out, and the temperature was perfect. Bobby's old flask was in his hands, half-empty now, and Dean had lost count of how many times he'd refilled it from the bottle by his side.

Everyone else was asleep; Dean was glad for the solitude. He was used to being with his brother all the time, but traveling in a group of eight got crowded. So here he was, staring at the most mind-blowingly beautiful nebula in all of creation, getting as drunk as possible. A stray worry about what would happen if he tumbled out of the TARDIS wormed its way through all the booze in his brain, but he shrugged it off. Worse ways to die than staring out at the whole damn universe in front of him.

"You also can't sleep?" Cas's voice was soft, and somehow his appearance didn't startle Dean.

"What gave it away?" he answered unkindly, then hated himself for it. The hunter knew he had a bad habit of saying sharp, hurtful things to Cas, but at times he couldn't stop himself. All that had passed between them still hung there, its weight not diminishing. Still too soon, so soon, but maybe it always would be. Common sense wouldn't stop how he felt—betrayed.

"You're—oh. Sarcasm."

"So you can be taught." His face was impassive, but internally he cringed. Alcohol did have a way of preventing him from censoring himself. "Shit—Cas, sorry. Just in a bad mood." And you're making it worse. At least he stopped himself that time.

"You still haven't forgiven me."

Honesty hour, was it? Bring it on, Dean thought. "No, I haven't. I want to, but there are some things I can't let go of easy. Being lied to is one of 'em."

Dean expected Cas to explain himself, about how he'd done it all to protect the world and humans—and Dean most of all. But the angel was silent, merely sitting down on the floor a few feet away.

Several minutes passed; Dean emptied the flask.

"You're far more lenient with Sam."

"He's my baby brother," the hunter answered without pause. "It's my job to accept his fuck-ups."

"You once said I was like a brother to you." There was a question in his voice.

Dean kept his eyes locked on the nebula. It seemed to swirl with him, colors shifting and blending, stars peaking through the dust that might one day form a star or solar system. "Turns out you weren't." Harsh words, but true. Dean had only ever had a younger brother, someone he was supposed to watch out for, protect. Cas wasn't like that—most of the time, he didn't need protecting. The angel had fallen into some weird category that Dean had no frame of reference for. "You're something else."

"I'll always be your friend, Dean. However long you need to take to forgive me, I'll wait."

A strange, twisting pain ripped through his chest. "Cas, I—" He faltered. Why couldn't he say the words, the he was sorry—sorry for being an ass half the time, sorry for the whole damn situation that had led to Castiel's need to sneak behind his back and try to save the world by his lonesome. Was it pride? Stubbornness? Plain self-destructive stupidity?

Introspection was a dangerous thing for Dean Winchester. He immediately began to shy away from it.

"You're a better friend than I deserve." The words rushed out over his liquor-loosened tongue. "You might'a fucked up with the Leviathan and Sam but at least you didn't start the apocalypse train rolling in the first place." Not an apology, but something. A start.

He wanted to forgive Cas, he wanted it all to go back to the way it'd been before. Saving the world together, visiting strip-clubs, explaining pop-culture. Simple. Easy. Well, easy for a Winchester, which usually involved demons and other monsters.

Something was keeping him from it, though, from letting it all go. With surprising clarity considering his level of intoxication, Dean realized that he was afraid of trusting Cas because the angel might turn around and do the same damn thing to him again.

Finally tearing his eyes away from the nebula, he turned to Cas. The angel's eyes were wide, his expression open and sad. Holding his gaze, Dean let the anger slip away a little.

"You seen this?" he asked, changing the subject because the pain in his chest moved and writhed in uncomfortable ways. "Never knew how cool space was. Everything's so sci-fi."

"The universe is a beautiful place." Cas leaned up to look outside; Dean was practically used to his refusal to respect personal space, so he didn't even mention their proximity.

"Statistically, there has to be a few ugly ones out there," Dean picked up the bottle of whiskey and drank from it. "Glad we landed in this one." Sleepiness began to steal over him, and after a long moment of just enjoying Cas's quiet company, he moved to stand.

"Should get some sleep. Night, Cas." Dean left the angel to sit and gaze out at the nebula on his own.

Half an hour later, the Doctor walked softly into the room. He wasn't surprised to see Castiel sitting by the door.

"Something wrong with your hammock?"

"No. I am just having trouble sleeping. Adjusting to my lack of power is inconvenient at times."

"Becoming a bit too human for comfort?" The Doctor sat beside Cas, looking out into space with him.

"I could be in this state indefinitely. I will grow accustomed to it. My only concern is that Dean and Sam won't be able to return home."

"We'll find a way. Don't worry."

A comfortable silence fell; the two non-humans had taken to each other quickly. The Doctor had taught Cas how to play seven-dimensional chess, which the angel turned out to be very good at. Few non-Time Lord entities could grasp the complexity of it, and the Doctor hadn't had a partner to play with in ages. They passed hours with the game when the others were sleeping. Humanity had been creeping up on the angel, though, and he spent less and less time awake while the others slept.

"Dean will get over himself eventually," the Doctor said after a while. "He'll come 'round."

"I did terrible things."

"Now, I don't believe all that. Mistakes, maybe, but terrible? You couldn't. You care for him too much."

"I lost sight of what was important. It's a—a very long story."

"Apparently your God forgave you."

"He's God, forgiveness comes naturally to Him. And he needed me."

"Dean needs you, too." The Doctor picked up the almost-empty bottle of whiskey, screwing the cap back on with a small sigh.

"Not when I'm like this. Without my angelic abilities, I'm useless."

"I didn't mean—" The Doctor stopped himself, smiling in a secretive way. "Oh, you'll get it eventually."

Cas gave the alien a questioning look; he was used to missing hidden meanings in things by now. But the Doctor just continued to smile as he stood up.

"How about a game, then?"