Fate
Cas takes a cautious step through the door of the bar, holding his breath just in case another scented assault awaits him. This one smells clean, faintly of beer and hard liquor, but sanitary none the less. He praises the heavens for the owner's higher standards and pushes the rest of the way through the doors. He bustles down the few short steps that edge onto a makeshift dance floor. This bar is much more thoroughly themed than the last dozen he's visited. It has an old western vibe that makes every person in the bar age with a sepia tinge.
Cas can see why Dean would be drawn to this place- it's classic. It feels more honest, it doesn't try so hard to be anything other than an honest-to-goodness bar. Even with the cowboy hats and the horseshoes everywhere, it has a natural feel that is almost homey—a dangerous attribute for any alcoholic.
The long wood bar-top spans the length of the far, right side of the room. Old, mercury stained bottles line the highest shelves; while more modern, pricy bottles sit below them. The bartender leans against the counter, elbows propping up his heavy torso, looming his head forward as he chuckles to a newspaper. The stools in front of the bar look old and Cas sees peanut shells and discarded napkins at their feet. Perhaps the owner isn't as concerned with cleanliness as he had first assumed, but he or she does at least keeps the smells at bay.
Cas imagines how Dean and Sam's fight must have played out. Dean pinned to the ground beneath his giant, younger brother. He knows sober-Dean despises the height and weight difference between him and Sam; he can't imagine how much it must have irked drunk-Dean to be so easily taken. Cas always tried to comfort his friend during those times, telling him that he isn't a small man by any means—Sam is just abnormally large. The facts never seemed to ease Dean's concerns.
Cas's thoughts are interrupted by the high trill of a woman's voice.
"Hey, you! Mr. Grammar-Man, in the trench coat!"
Cas turns his head, gazing to the left of the bar, only to see the woman from Dean's house, bouncing toward him. She shoots him a toothy, yellow grin and then looks down at her breasts, as if to make sure they are jiggling properly. Cas feels a smile grow across his face, which he quickly wipes away when the woman throws him a wink. He prays she didn't misconstrue the intention of that smile. It wasn't for her as much as it was for the fact that his bar hopping adventure is finally over.
"Came back for another show?" she said, finally stopping in front Cas with a pop of her hip.
"Not exactly." Cas said, becoming very uncomfortable with how close the woman is standing to him.
"Oh, honey! What happened to your face?" The woman bridges the small gap between them, thrusting her pointed fingers at Castiel's jaw.
He leans back, dodging her touch before it can land on his skin. "Would you mind taking a step back, mam? Personal space and all . . ."
The woman snickers and shakes her head just before leaning in really close, lifting her bony finger once more and poking Cas's nose.
"No problem, sweetie."
With that, she shuffles back a few inches—not as much as Cas would like but it does allow him to breathe a little easier.
"So what can I do for you, cutie? You seem like the role-playing type. The quiet ones usually are." She gives a tinkled little giggle just before giving the man another lust-filled wink.
"No, no mam . . .I think you are mis-"
"Please don't call me mam, honey. I am not that old." The woman says while gesturing to her own face.
"Apologies, what is your name, so that I can address you by it?"
"Fate."
"Pardon?"
"Fate, Mr. Blue Eyes, my name is Fate."
Cas wrinkles his brow, wondering if he should ask why this woman's parents would give her such a name; but before he can work up the nerve to ask, Fate lets out another giggle and explains.
"It's not my real name sweetie—we use fake ones in this line of work."
"Oh. That is probably wise." Cas concedes. "In any case, it is lovely to be formally introduced to you, Fate. My name is Castiel."
This time, the woman is the one to knit her brows in confusion. Cas manages to deduce why her expression changed so suddenly.
"I was born on a Thursday. My parents were very religious. Castiel is the angel of Thursday."
The woman nods a little before shrugging with a small smirk. "Honey, your parents could have named you Willy Wonka and it would make no difference to me. What can I do for you?"
"Yes, down to business," Cas says while clasping his hands together in a tight ball. He is happy that the woman—Fate, seems much more reasonable today "I need you to visit my friend again."
Fate gives Cas a slightly aggressive look, sucking in a deep breath and curling her smearing lips into a snarl.
"Look, you paid me buddy, and when the day is done, it's done! If I go home with a guy, I am getting paid—it doesn't matter what happens at his place. He still took me home! Your friend can't get anything more outta me until I see more green!" The scrawny woman scoffs, her foot stomping hard on the ground to emphasize her last word.
Cas shakes his head, desperation swimming across his skin- wanting to explain but not wanting to be swindled out of more money than he already has been. "I fully intend to pay you for these next services mam. I mean, Ms. Fate. All I ask, is that you pretend you did not see me, or that this transaction took place at all. If you could act like you missed Dean, or regretted not spending more time with him, I would be very grateful."
The woman's slack jawed expression tells the man that this is probably an odd request, or at least something new regarding this line of work.
The silences makes his bones ache. "Again, I would be very, very grateful."
The woman finally moves, closing her lips and shaking her head, while a dubious grin creeps across her face.
"Doing the dirty is one thing, sweetie but acting is a whole other. I will need double what you paid me last time."
Cas sighs, knowing somewhere in the back of his mind that this was going to happen.
"Is that double the two hundred and fifty price you originally quoted me or is that double the three hundred you ended up taking?"
The woman's grin grows wider.
"What do you think, hot stuff?"