AN: Hi! I hope you've made it this far. I only had time to get around to four chapters today and I'm not sure when my next update will be, because I'm in college and it takes up quite a bit of my time. Thanks for reading As We Know It!
The Impala roared down the interstate, back to the Bunker. Dean looked more at peace than Cas had seem him in a long time.
Dean broke the silence.
"We're all back to normal now, I guess. You got your wings back, Sam isn't being possessed by an angel, and I'm not cursed anymore. We're ready for whatever's next."
"Yes," Cas agreed.
Dean did not appear to have any more to say. From time to time, Cas would notice his eyes flickering between the road and his arm. The sleeves of Dean's blue flannel shirt were rolled up, exposing his forearms.
Dean drove all day long, refusing to let Cas take the wheel. When night began to fall, Cas insisted on stopping at a motel.
"Dean, you need to rest and recover," he said stubbornly.
"Cas, I don't like being in a motel room with you. You always stare at me when I sleep," Dean retorted.
"I don't," Cas said indignantly.
"You do," Dean replied.
But he stopped anyway.
Dean had joked that the first thing he was going to do in the motel room was grab a beer from the minifridge. But he collapsed on the bed instead, falling straight to sleep.
Cas breathed a sigh of relief. Now that he was an angel again, a few hours was no time for him. He sat down in a chair and began reading a copy of To Kill A Mockingbird that someone had left in the motel room. It was quite unnecessary, as Metatron had "uploaded" every book into his head, but Castiel figured he had nothing better to do. Turning on the small television set might wake Dean up.
Around 3am, Dean became restless, shifting around in the bed. Cas looked up concernedly.
"No!" he cried out in his sleep. "No! Sammy! Cas! Sammy! No!"
Castiel quickly stood up and rushed over to the bed. He touched Dean's forehead. Immediately Dean relaxed. Cas went back to the book.
Around 6 in the morning, Dean woke up, ready to leave.
"How are you feeling, Dean?" Cas asked.
"I'm doing great Cas," Dean replied.
"You had a nightmare last night," Cas told him.
Dean frowned.
"I got rid of it," Cas said.
"Well…thanks Cas," Dean said shortly. "Let's go, I'm ready to go home."
They continued their drive of silence. Whenever Dean would catch Cas staring at his arm, he would smile and tell Cas not to worry about him.
"I'm fine Cas. Ready to get back to work," he said.
Sam heard the Bunker door slam and came running into the control room as Dean went down the stairs. The brothers hugged each other, and though they would both deny it later, they were both somewhat teary-eyed.
"I still can't believe that worked. And I'm still pissed at you for not telling us you let Cain go," Sam said.
The three men were sitting around a table, drinking beer.
"Oh yeah? Well I'm pissed that you let Rowena go," Dean said, taking a long draught of his beer.
"I told you, I made her swear she wasn't going to do anything to us. Besides, I'm pretty sure it's Crowley she's after," Sam answered.
"That is true," Cas pointed out. "She never came after us because of Dean. She came here looking for the witches that scorned her, and then she found Crowley and subsequently, us. I don't believe she's interested in us anymore."
Sam yawned.
"Go to bed," Dean said immediately.
"Yeah I think I agree with you," Sam said. "Goodnight Dean. Cas."
Sam went to his bedroom. Dean stood up.
"I think I'm going to follow him," he said. "Cas, you gonna turn in?"
"I don't require sleep anymore Dean," Cas reminded him.
"Right, you got your mojo back. Well. Do you want a place to just crash in then? You know you have a home here, Cas."
"Thank you. I appreciate that."
Dean headed off towards the hallway.
"This place has a ton of bedrooms," Dean said backwards over his shoulder. They came to a T in the hallway.
"Sam's bedroom is that way." Dean pointed left. "Mine's this way. There's one next to me you can take, if you want."
Cas followed Dean into a plain room. There was a bed with white sheets, a desk, and a TV.
"Sam was gonna take this room at first, but he said it reminded him too much of his dorm room at Stanford," Dean told him.
"I don't require much. This will be fine," Cas said.
"Well alright. Goodnight Cas," Dean said, grabbing Cas' shoulder as he left the room.
Dean walked into his room and closed the door. He collapsed on his bed.
Cas opened the door to his room. Dean sat up.
"Dean." Cas' voice was gentle. The angel closed his door and crossed the room to Dean's bed and sat down next to him.
"Cas, what are you doing in here?" Dean hadn't realized he was nervous until he spoke.
The angel cupped Dean's face in his hands. Cas' blue eyes gazed into Dean's green ones. Cas tilted his head and brought his face to Dean's-
"Dean!"
Dean woke up abruptly, and looked around. Cas wasn't in his room. Dean looked down and blushed. He grabbed for his sheets.
"Dean!"
"What, Sam?" Dean yelled.
Sam cracked the door open.
"NO!" Dean yelled, throwing a pillow at the door. Sam closed it, laughing.
"I was just going to tell you that I was going to make breakfast and I wanted to know if you wanted an egg white omelet."
"No, I do not want an egg white omelet. I want bacon and coffee with whiskey in it. Go away! It's ass o'clock in the morning."
Sam's footsteps mingled with his laughter down the hallway.
Dean kept his sheets covered over his crotch. How could this happen? This was CAS he was dreaming about, not a busty Asian girl from one of those magazines. Still…the angel's lips on his were soft and gentle…
Dean leapt out of bed and threw jeans on. He was NOT thinking about this. He did not have feelings for Cas. They were just friends.
Metatron was in hiding. Again.
The wayward angel sat in a hot tub on the Palace Suite of a casino in Las Vegas. He knew the humans whispered about the older, short, squat man who never left the top floor, but they never complained, so long as he payed the hotel bill.
It was different from last time, Metatron thought angrily. Back then, everyone had forgotten he even existed. Now, thanks to those meddling Winchesters and their pet angel, he was Heaven's Most Wanted.
There was a knock on the door. Metatron looked up from the television screen that he hadn't been really watching.
"I didn't order room service, thank you!" he called out.
"I'm not room service."
The voice was female, with a distinctly Scottish accent.
Metatron narrowed his eyes. With a blink, he was out of the hot tub and fully clothed. He reached for his angel blade and put it in his jacket pocket, and crossed the room to open the door.
The woman was short and ginger, clad in black from head to toe. Her dark green eyes glittered intelligently. She practically reeked of magic.
"You are Metatron, are you not?"
"Who are you?" Metatron said, pulling his coat back to reveal the angel blade.
"My name is Rowena. I've heard you want the Winchesters dead just as much as I do. And if you and I work together, we can accomplish that…and much more." Rowena let the comment hang.
Metatron was quiet for a moment. Then he laughed.
"I don't know who you are, witch, but I don't think I'll be taking that offer."
Rowena smiled too.
"Oh, trust me. I have something that will interest you."
She reached into her cloak and pulled out a brown, weathered looking book and held it out to him.
"Do you know what this is?" She asked softly.
Metatron didn't answer. Could this be…no, it couldn't be.
"This is the Book of the Damned," Rowena answered for him with a sly smile. "Want to reconsider my offer now?"
Metatron stared the the book. Then slowly, he looked up and sneered.
"Why don't you come inside, Rowena?" he said with a sinister chuckle.