Chapter 10: Confession

John woke up bright and early the next morning. Stretching, he rose out of bed, all his fifty-plus years making themselves known in his back. He didn't know why he still felt it, but whatever had brought him back had made a note to make him just as he was when he died. He should probably be looking into that. But he was too concerned about his son. So long as nothing came to try and collect on whatever favor it was convinced John owed it, he was going to take care of his kids.

He walked out to the kitchen, finding it empty. He decided, maybe it would be good for him to make breakfast. Dean normally did the cooking, every so often Sam would take care of it. Castiel was good, mostly for cereal and coffee. John was under the impression the guy couldn't use any modern devices, and needed supervision when handling any machinery. But John could handle his own in the kitchen. He did after all, raise two boys. Not all their meals where cereal.

Pulling out the ingredients for omelets, he started chopping up the vegetables. He knew Sam liked vegetables, Dean wasn't big on them but would eat, if he ate at all. He liked them every so often, and Castiel would just have to make due with whatever. Stirring the eggs, he heard a loud groan come from the hall way Dean's room was down.

"Sounds like somebody's up." Sam said, walking into the room. Hair wet from his morning shower. Smirk playing across his face at his brother's misfortune.

They heard another groan, and the flush of a toilet. Followed by a pale, six foot man walking out of the hallway. His face made even paler by the black eye he was sporting, and the cut above his cheek. He was holding his head, his eyes closed to block out the light.

"Morning Dean." Sam said, making his voice louder then necessary, smiling up at his brother. Dean stumbling back from the noise, and into one of the support beams in the living area.

"You sleep well?" John asked, looking to his son as well, making his voice exceptionally chipper. The only response he received was the middle finger. Dean's aim, however, was off, and he seemed to just be flipping off the table. "Elegant." He shot back smartly.

"Just, be quiet, please." Dean pleaded, sitting himself in a chair at the table and messaging his head.

"Yes, because that's exactly what you need?" John said, sitting a cup of coffee on the table in front of his oldest. "Peace and quiet to get over your bender from last night." John accused, earning a loud groan from Dean.

"Not right now." Dean moaned, grabbing the coffee and putting the mug to his head, sighing at the warmth. John rolled his eyes, and went back to the stove.

"Come on Dean. We had a deal." Sam said, looking to his brother with his big, pleading puppy eyes. "You said you where going to stop."

"Not right now, Sammy." Dean said, looking at his brother. He knew what Sam's problem really was, but they definitely couldn't discuss that in front of their father.

"Well, at least Cas was nice enough to go and get you." Sam said, turning to a book he was holding. "I was actually very impressed by how quickly he did so." He said, getting another long and loud groan from Dean in shame. Sam watched him for a minute, but then returned to his book.

"Yeah, where is he anyway?" John asked, scooping an omelet onto a plate and handing it to Sam, who thanked him.

"Probably avoiding me." Dean sulked, laying his head on the table. "Pissed off as Hell in his room." He mumbled, face down.

John looked at his son, sulking on the table. He wondered why he cared if Castiel was mad at him. Dean never cared what anyone thought of him, unless it was Sam or himself. Maybe Dean did make an actual friend, and John was happy for him. He did always worry about his oldest when they moved from school to school. Sam was always the more sociable, even if Dean was the one he was constantly chasing out of closets and having to hunt down in the middle of the night.

He did, at least, seem to have grown up a bit. Though John wasn't one to jump to conclusions, despite what his boys may say. John knew Dean was definitely older, and he acted like it. The Dean he knew, would probably be crawling up the walls, being trapped in this place. Going out to the local hangouts and hitting on as many girls as he could. Probably spending the night with them, then never calling them again. At least he's grown out of most bad habits.

"And why would he be pissed at you Dean?" Sam asked, voice calm allowing nothing to get past, but polite curiosity.

"Don't Sam, just...Don't" Dean said, shoving a hand in his brother's direction.

"Oh, you know." They heard a deep voice say from the stairs. "Lying to me, sneaking out, getting into a fight I had to pull him away from." Castiel answered, coming down the steps. "Don't worry." He said, looking to Sam. "I stopped it before anything bad happened."

"The fight wasn't bad enough?" John asked, setting a plate in front of Dean, who turned even paler and got up from the table.

"Did you take the aspirin I left you?" Castiel asked, watching Dean leave the room. He did not get a response. Shrugging, he got up and started putting together his own omelet, gesturing for John to have a seat once he'd finished his own.

"Do you even know what you're doing?" John asked skeptically.

"In theory." Castiel said, cracking a couple of eggs. Sam watching in interest.

"So, how'd you know he left?" Sam asked Castiel who started stirring his eggs. "I didn't know anything until I heard you guys getting back."

"It was pretty easy to figure out when he asked to go outside for a spar session. Even more obvious when he asked to be out there alone." Castiel answered, adding what he wanted to his omelet and sprinkling it with cheese.

"You let him?" John asked, looking pointedly at Castiel. The guy should have known better. Especially if he was Dean's friend. Anyone who knew the boy would know he was prone to sneaking out when he thought it was everyone else who was unreasonable.

"I let him think he was out there alone." Was Castiel's curt reply. "I watched him push the car a few blocks away."

"Then you just let him go?" Sam asked, watching Castiel's expression carefully.

"Of course not. I hid in the backseat, then followed him." Castiel answered. "I figured I would give him a chance to have some freedom, since that was what he wanted. But then he started drinking, and then the fight started." He finished, setting down his plate and taking a piece out of his eggs, wincing at the flavor.

"Why didn't you stop him when he started drinking?" John asked, looking at Castiel accusingly.

"Because he's an adult who can make his own decisions." Castiel answered simply. "He knew the mistake he was making, and he was going to learn the consequences of his actions. Besides, he wouldn't have stopped if I told him to. Dean doesn't listen very well."

"That's true, he probably would have knocked Cas out when he tried to stop him. Then tried to drive back drunk." Sam admitted, as Castiel finished his food and took his plate to the sink. "Cas was making sure, while Dean may have been making mistakes, he was safe and would have made it home."

"Right." John said disbelievingly. He was glad the guy was there to get Dean home, but he should have stopped Dean from making any mistakes in the first place. At the moment, Dean couldn't help his actions and needed someone to watch him. That's why he was staying in the bunker, taking out any outside influence that might prompt him to drink. "Where are you going?" He asked, watching Castiel walk out of the room.

"To check on Dean, then research." Castiel answered, walking out of the room.

Dean laid in his bed, lights off, and completely silent. His head was killing him, and his father setting down that plate of egg pancake, covered in vegetables did not help. The smell had made him sick, and then everybody insisted on talking to him. In their very loud voices, at that.

Then, seeing Castiel had just made him spiral down into a pit of shame so severe he just had to get out of there. Sure, it was the cowards way out, but he did not want to talk to the guy he'd tried to sleep with the night before in a drunken stupor.

Unfortunately for him, Castiel had chosen that moment to come into his room.

"Dean?" Castiel asked, walking into the room. Dean's response was to cover his face with a pillow. "How are you feeling?" He asked, sitting down in the chair at his desk.

"Like crap." Dean mumbled through the pillow over his head. Luckily, he'd left enough of the pillow off his face that some air could get through. So there was no hurry to take it off in fear of suffocation.

"Well, that is to be expected." Castiel suggested, pulling the chair closer to Dean's bed. "You did drink your weight in alcohol last night." He said with a slight smirk. "Hold on a moment." He said, getting up and leaving the room. He returned a few moments later, and pulled the pillow away from Dean's face, putting it under his head. Dean felt a very cold rag placed on his forehead, and a cold bag placed under his neck. "Better?" He asked.

"Very." Dean answered. The coldness seemed to do wonders for his headache and nausea. He could breath again, and noticed a bowl of ice water on his nightstand. That was good, because the rag was going to get warm pretty soon. "Thanks." He said, turning to Castiel and seeing his blue crinkled in a small smile.

Castiel then straightened himself in the chair, and his smile turned into a calculating stare. Dean knew what was coming. He'd be lying if he wasn't expecting it, he'd made quite the spectacle of himself last night. At least from what he remembered of it.

"Are we going to talk about last night?" Castiel asked, looking to his friend. Dean was tempted to go with the excuse that he didn't remember, but he knew Castiel would know better. The guy had always been able to read right through him.

"I was kind of hoping we could avoid it." Dean said, sending a small smile to Castiel in return. "You know, skip over that whole 'awkward conversation' thing."

"That's not an option, Dean." Castiel stated, looking at his friend sternly.

"I know." Dean said, closing his eyes as Castiel removed the rag and dunked it back into the ice water. "You want to know what that was. But I had to try." He attempted another smile as Castiel replaced the clothe over his head.

"I would like to know." Castiel admitted, sitting back down. "But if your not feeling up to it at the moment, I would understand."

"No." Dean said, cringing when his eyes fell on the light. Castiel noticing and turning it off. "Best to get it out of the way, while I'm too messed up to stop myself. Chances are, I won't remember the unpleasant parts anyway. Which is a plus." He half-joked.

Castiel just looked at him, waiting for an answer. He did not seem to be any kind of a rush. Perfectly content to sit in the chair until Dean got up the nerve to tell him the truth. Dean took several deep breaths, closing his eyes for a few moments. He felt like crap, but the prospect of getting out of this hangover with nothing weighing on his mind, except the usual, was very appealing.

"What do you want me to say?" Dean asked, looking to the ceiling.

"The truth is usually the best option, and when you get to the end, stop." Castiel offered with a smirk. "It's not like you're allergic to straight answers or anything?" He added, sending Dean a meaningful look. Dean's laugh turned into a pained grimace as his head gave a throb. He held it for a moment, working out in his head what he wanted to say. Before re-positioning himself on the bed, just moving his back and arms a bit. Trying his best not to disturb the cold clothe on his head, or the ice pack under his neck.

"Well, what can I say?" Dean started, looking at Castiel in his peripheral vision. He might as well get everything out in the air. "Yes, I like you, and I don't mean in the 'Your my friend' kinda way. I want to have something more with you. I'm happier when your around, and I shudder to think what would happen to me if I lost you to. It took awhile, but your very important to me, and it doesn't help that you are fucking hot." He finished, hoping to lighten the mood a bit.

Dean watched Castiel, who just stared at him. Seemingly lost in thought for a moment. At least Dean hoped he was lost in thought. He hoped to the absent God that was Castiel's father, that he wasn't trying to find a way of letting him down easy. He'd given that speech enough himself, that he knew as much as people tried to be nice, it was never easy.

"So this is just an attraction to my body?" Castiel asked.

"Fuck no." Dean answered quickly. "Your my friend, and I think more of you then that. If it where just that, I would have tried something ages ago." He cleared, keeping his eye on Castiel.

"So your attracted to me, but at the same time. You want more out of this than just sex?" Castiel clarified, leaning forward to take the rag off again and dunking it into the ice water.

"Yeah, kinda." Dean answered, watching Castiel ring out the rag before replacing it on his head. "Last night, I was drunk and I wasn't thinking. But at the same time they call it liquid courage, so I might have just been able to get my head out of my ass long enough to show you what's been going on in there." He thought out loud, continuing to stare at the ceiling. "But your straight, so why bother." He finished, refusing to look at Castiel before he was about to turn him down.

"Who said I was straight?" Castiel asked, getting up and moving to Dean's bed, sitting down beside Dean. "All human's are beautiful. Their genitals really have nothing to do with my attraction. It just happened to be women who hit on me at the time." He said, leaning down to look Dean in the eyes. "But your soul is one of the most beautiful I've ever seen. I've felt that way since I first laid eyes on you in Hell." He finished, smiling softly at Dean.

"Are you saying you like me to?" Dean asked, wishing Castiel would give him a straight answer and just kiss him or something. He was so close.

"I do." Castiel answered, leaning closer to Dean with a smug smile, before his face hardened. "But not when your drunk and trying to kill people." He lectured, pulling away and standing up. "And I really don't appreciate you lying to me to sneak out. Causing such a situation, your above that."

"I'm really not." Dean joked, raising his eye-brows at Castiel. "Does that mean no fun until I'm free of this curse?" Dean pouted watching Castiel leave the room.

"I never said that." Was the yelled reply from the hall.

Dean smiled, sure he felt like crap. But it was bound to get better, provided he didn't screw anything up. Castiel had not exactly turned him down. He just said he didn't want to be lied to, didn't want Dean drunk, and didn't want Dean trying to kill people. That could go several ways. After all, years of knowing Castiel had let Dean know one thing. Most of his answers where open to interpretation.

It was a few hours later that Dean was woken up by his brother walking into the room. He lifted his head slightly, the rag no longer cold, just damp. His ice-pack melted, leaving a very unpleasant wetness on his neck, back and pillow. He cringed when Sam turned on the light, the sudden brightness hurting his eyes and head.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked unsympathetically, walking up to the bed and sitting down in Castiel vacated seat. Handing him a large glass of water.

"Like I was just bulldozed by a windigo." Dean said, sitting up to take the water and drinking a small sip. The little bit of moisture soothing his throat. It was then he noticed the two aspirin that Castiel had put on his nightstand. He snatched them up and put them in his mouth before taking a drink to swallow them down. "But a bit better then I felt earlier. Then I had felt like I'd been steamrolled or eaten alive."

"Well that's an improvement." Sam said, looking at his brother expectantly. Dean tried to ignore it, but his face started burning from that side as if Sam had laser vision and focused it on him.

"What?" He asked, avoiding his brother's eyes. He knew what Sam wanted to talk about, but damned if he was going to just offer the information up.

"Do you wanna tell me what happened last night?" Sam asked, watching Dean's reaction. He was going to talk to his brother, and it had been a nightmare trying to find a moment when he could without his father trying to follow him. He'd managed to distract John with some research books he'd found on possible things that could have brought him back.

"I needed out." Dean admitted with a sigh in resignation. "Just for a night. A few hours without you or Dad or Cas breathing down my neck. I thought I'd go out, have a few drinks, and maybe find a chick." He explained, looking Sam in the eyes. "But a few drinks turned into almost a whole bottle of whiskey, and the chick had a very jealous boyfriend."

"Really, that's what was going on?" Sam asked, looking at his brother with a raised brow. When Dean declined to answer, he sighed. "Well, at least Cas was able to guess what you where doing, and could pull you out before you seriously injured anyone." He added, a wave of guilt shooting through Dean. Castiel had not told them about that. Dean didn't know whether to be thankful or worried.

"Yeah, I'm still trying to figure out how he did that." Dean said, to break the silence and distract from his guilt. He was not about to tell Sam about what he'd done when Cas had shown his face. He was sure his brother would be supportive, but at the same time, Sam is always suspicious of Castiel. He didn't want it to become an issue before anything actually happened.

"Apparently, Cas could see through your 'I need to go outside for some fresh are' ploy, and snuck into the car before you left." Sam explained, with a joking smile on his face. "You're not as smooth as you seem to think you are."

Dean had to stop and think about that bit of realization. Had he really been in such a hurry to not look in the back seat before he left? Had he really not noticed when he was followed either? He had to have been so desperate to get out, he didn't think to look over his shoulder when he was walking to the bar.

Then a memory struck Dean. He was looking at the people, trying to find out if there was anyone he would like to go home with. There was a guy in the corner, reading a news paper, with a tuft of black hair rising above the paper. But Dean had rid him off at just someone who worked the late shift and no one of interest. Purely because he couldn't see his face.

"Of course." Dean whispered to himself, mentally kicking himself for not thinking more of that guy. It could have been a Demon, or something just as deadly. He was lucky it was Castiel.

"What?" Sam asked, getting up from the chair he was sitting on.

"Nothing." Dean answered quickly. He did not need to know just how bad he had been last night. How low his defenses had been.

"Okay." Sam said skeptically. "Are you hungry?" He asked, walking to the door.

"I'm not an invalid Sam. I can make my own food." Dean snapped. He was so tired of everybody taking care of him. "I just need a shower first." He added, and to prove a point, he stood up and started to collect his clothes.

"Alright." Sam agreed, holding his hands up and walking out of the room.

There you go, another chapter. Hope you liked, and I will say that the next will be up again at some point this weekend.

Thank you for reading my ramblings, and horrible writing, have a nice day.