Chapter Three: Silent ways

Dean slept fuck all. Burned through cigarettes like crazy. When he ran out, he went outside. He knew he had said dawn, but damn, he was done waiting. It was dark outside and the air was chilly. On the way to the stables, he almost fell flat on his face – six times.

Muttering his way through some choice expletives, he tried to hoist a saddle onto a horse, but the nervous animal was shifting around all over the place. The exertion of holding the heavy saddle and having to lift it for the fifteenth time in a row was wearing Dean out. He was pretty relieved when he managed to get the saddle on. Quickly, he secured the straps.

It was then that he saw something stir in the bales of hay to his left. Castiel appeared, dusted himself off and plucked a few stray blades of dried grass out of his hair. To Dean's annoyance, Castiel managed to look rested after spending half the night in the stables doing God knows what.

Dean opened his mouth to ask what the hell the guy was doing, but thought better of it. It was none of his business anyway. Shaking his head, Dean walked outside with the horse in his wake. He could barely distinguish between the black shape of the house and the deep blue of the sky. This is dumb, Dean thought. His horse riding skills were just sufficient in broad daylight. Still, after checking his supplies one last time, he somehow got on the horse.

The moon was full. Dean hoped that this would be enough for his eyes to get accustomed to the dark to the point where he'd be able to see shit. That slowly happened.

Castiel led his horse out of the stables. It stood still obediently while he went about the business of saddling it. This was done in approximately five minutes. In one graceful movement, Castiel mounted the horse. They waited. When neither made any attempt to move, Dean finally guessed what was going on.

That meddling idiot Raphael must have told Castiel about his plan and now horse boy thought that he could come. Before Dean could say anything to disabuse Castiel of that notion, Castiel clacked his tongue and took the lead. Squinting, Dean stared after him. Freak must have slept in the stables to make sure I wouldn't leave without him, Dean realised. That was some fucking dedication. He had no idea what he had done to deserve it.

When Dean didn't follow, Castiel stopped and sighed impatiently. Dean spit at the ground he couldn't see and trotted after Castiel.

In darkness, they passed the place where they had found Sam and Grace. The roads were familiar, which probably accounted for their uneventful journey. It certainly wasn't Dean's horsemanship that had gotten him through the night unscathed.

They reached town around sunrise. Blinking against the bright sunlight, Dean paused to grab his flask. While thirstily drinking some water, he observed the bustling townsfolk with a scowl. He had already decided that they weren't going to stop. When Dean spotted Lucifer, however, he halted.

'Lucifer,' he called out.

Many heads turned to see who Dean was addressing and he found himself wondering again what it must be like to have that name in such a God fearing country. What must have possessed his parents to do that to him? Add to that the fact that Lucifer was also running the only brothel and gambling house in town and his unfortunate name suddenly seemed well-chosen.

'I go by Nick now. It's preferable to Lucifer,' he chuckled. 'Who told you about that name? Michael, I bet.'

Dean realized that, yes, it was Michael who always called him Lucifer, but Raphael or Gabriel had never objected, though Gabriel had seemed amused.

'Have you seen Gabriel?' Dean asked. He wasn't in the mood for jokes or small talk. On every supply run, Gabriel frequented the brothel, so if anyone knew where he was it would be Lucifer. Knowing Gabriel, he would have racked up quite a debt at the place.

'Last I heard, he was in Gustine,' Lucifer said. Appraising Castiel like a horse, Lucifer tipped his hat and spoke to him in a friendly manner. The young man stared straight ahead without acknowledging the greeting in any way. After an uncomfortable moment, wherein Castiel continued to stare blankly, Lucifer turned to Dean again.

'Hey, I heard about…'

'Yeah,' Dean interrupted. He quickly took off, leaving Lucifer and eventually the town behind. Catching Castiel's confused expression, he slowed down.

'I don't want to be told how everyone's real sorry about... About my loss. Nobody's sorrier than me,' he explained. Castiel nodded.

As they continued their journey in silence, with every hour Castiel's back came to seem more and more like a question mark to Dean. Who was Castiel? Why was he accompanying Dean? Could he be trusted?

It occurred to Dean that Castiel was a mystery. The boy had shown up five years ago on the ranch, unable to tell them his date of birth or even his year of birth. Seventeen seemed like a safe bet, so they had settled on that. Since he was closest to Sam in age, they had struck up a friendship. Dean didn't get it, because Castiel rarely talked.

Castiel had claimed that his mother had named Gabriel as one of the men who could be Castiel's father. It took only one look at the two of them to know that this was very fucking unlikely. Gabriel had always denied it too. No one was sure whether Castiel really believed that Gabriel was his unwilling father or whether he had just stopped looking. Either way, Castiel had stayed.

Hour after hour spend on a horse made it perfectly clear that the fever had weakened Dean. His strength was leaving him when it wasn't dusk yet. Clinging to the motive he had to keep going, Dean tried to imagine what he'd do to Gabriel once they caught up to him, but he kept getting sidetracked by how little he knew of Castiel.

Sam had said that Castiel's mother had died when he was young and that Castiel had drifted ever since. Drifting; that is a pretty vague term. Dean wondered what he would have had to do to survive. He surprised himself by caring. To dispel the unwelcome emotion, he spoke rather harshly.

'Always thought Lucifer was the bad seed of the family. Guess I was wrong.'

After a sharp glance at Dean, Castiel merely shrugged. Suddenly, he signalled his horse to stop. Dean scanned the horizon for danger of some kind, but detected nothing. Nevertheless, Castiel slipped off his horse and led it up a small hill. It wasn't until he tied his horse to a tree that Dean understood what he was doing.

'We ain't resting,' Dean insisted, but Castiel paid him no mind. Eventually, Dean also dismounted. He was too tired to do much of anything after managing this. Too tired to stand, too tired to sit. Everything ached. Castiel was the one who provided the horses with water, pitched Dean's tent, made a fire and warmed up two cans of beans.

After dinner, Dean crawled into his tent and waited for sleep to come. The entire day his eyes had kept closing of their own accord, so you'd think it'd be easy. Apparently not. Dean peeked out of his tent. Castiel sat away from the fire, close to the horses.

'I reckon there's enough room for two in here,' Dean offered, but Castiel shook his head. He tapped his rifle. Ah, he is keeping first watch, Dean thought. Well, that was fine.

Shadows of the flames danced on the tent's saggy roof. Weird, elusive forms appeared against the brown cloth and vanished just as quickly. Dean watched them for a while, until he began to feel as if he was suffocating. It was cold outside, but inside the tent it was simply too hot. Dean tried to wrestle out of his pile of quilts and after succeeding he dragged everything out of the tent and close to the fire. He lay back down. This was better.

'Good night,' Dean said. Castiel didn't answer.

'A good night to you too, Dean. And don't you worry. I'll shoot anyone who approaches our camp,' Dean provided in gravelly tones. Castiel still didn't say anything.

'Gee, thanks,' Dean answered, reverting back to his regular voice. He began to relax in earnest. That wonderful feeling of being about to fall asleep engulfed him. Quietly, he turned onto his side.

'Thanks,' he whispered, sincerely this time. His eyes closed. Out here, Dean drowsily realised, he kind of depended on this guy he barely knew. That should have scared him, but for some reason it didn't.

(***)

They reached Gustine around noon the next day. Gabriel was gone. In the local saloon, they found out that Gabriel had lost a shitload of money gambling. He wasn't exactly a saver to begin with, so Dean calculated that he was probably through all the money he'd stolen. They asked around to see which direction he'd gone. To Dean's amazement, Gabriel apparently didn't mean to leave the state.

'He knows we're coming for him,' Dean murmured. Castiel raised his eyebrows, as if to say 'what else's new?' which, to be fair, of course. You didn't kill someone's brother and niece and didn't know that you were going to get chased.

Still, this was weird. Gabriel had committed murder for that money and instead of hightailing it out of Texas immediately, he'd gambled away all of it barely a day's ride away from the ranch. Didn't seem logical.

They went off in the direction that Gabriel had taken. Puzzled, Dean tried to make sense of Gabriel's behaviour. They were heading deeper into Comanche County and he didn't like it one bit. Was Gabriel trying to hide or was something else going on?

The sun was steadily dropping below the horizon. When they came to a crossroads, they hadn't seen anyone for quite a while. Both men dismounted and searched the ground. Castiel indicated one path. Dean groused that all the tracks looked the same. Patiently, Castiel showed him a mark in the earth. It might have been interpreted as a very faint hoof print. He seemed serious. Dean thought he was full of shit, until he recalled that the horses were Castiel's special domain. Maybe he was able to identify a horse by its hoofs. That was quite a skill.

'You're a good tracker, ain't you?'Dean asked. Castiel nodded. Not arrogantly, just, question requires answer: yeah.

'You look beat. We'll camp here and continue tomorrow,' Dean decided. It was Dean's attempt to regain control over their expedition again. Castiel didn't look tired at all, but he didn't protest.

Castiel took care of the horses, while Dean collected some twigs and branches for the fire. They enjoyed their dinner of beans in silence. It started to snow. It wasn't rational, Dean knew that, but he had come to associate it with death. His father and mother had died when it was snowing. Snow had announced Sam and Grace's death.

It was only after he was snug inside his blankets and ready for sleep that he remembered that instead of taking only the first watch the night before, Castiel had stayed up the entire night, watching over him. Even though he didn't look tired, he must be tired. When he saw that Castiel had already taken up his place outside the circle of light provided by the fire, he was relieved. Lying back down, Dean silently vowed to take the shift the next night.

He wished Castiel good night again, not expecting an answer and not getting one. He wondered who - if anyone - was going to die tomorrow. He hoped it would be Gabriel.

'If he's hiding,' he said to himself, 'we'll find him and sneak up on him real quiet like.'

Grinning, Dean rolled onto his stomach and looked at Castiel. Horse boy was wrapped tightly into his thick coat.

'That shouldn't be a problem for you.'

Dean settled on his side with his back to the other man. Castiel smiled.