CHAPTER 13

When Castiel woke the next morning, the first thing that he noticed was that Dean was no longer in bed with him.

He sat up slowly, blinking around the room. Sam's bed was also empty, and just like the day before, he didn't appear to be in the motel. Castiel guessed that he had once again found another coffee shop to go continue his research. Dean, though, was over at the motel's coffee maker, looking like he was trying – and failing – to figure out how to use it.

"Dean," Castiel said.

Dean glanced over his shoulder and grinned at him. "Hey," he said. "You feel like getting up and doing something today?"

"Yes," Castiel said, already climbing to his feet. He was completely tired of staying in bed, and just getting up and walking sounded like the best idea in the world.

His trench coat and shirt were in a crumpled heap on one of the chairs. Castiel walked over and picked them up, frowning. The shirt didn't matter whatsoever – he already had two other identical shirts, so the loss of one didn't bother him. What did bother him was the bloodstains on his coat, which looked like they were not going to be washed out any time soon. And even if they did manage to remove the stains, they would have to do something about the two tears that Felicity's knife had carved into them.

"Yeah, we probably should've thrown them out already," Dean said. He came over and took them from Castiel's hands, balling them up and tossing them toward the nearest trash can. Then he glanced back and saw the look on Castiel's face, and added, "We can get you another trench coat. I mean, you're going to need to give you something else to wear when you're acting like an FBI agent, anyway."

"Thank you," Castiel said. He wasn't certain if he could ever find another coat that was as good as his first had been, and he was disappointed that he'd only gotten the chance to wear it for one case, but it was kind of Dean to offer.

"There's bagels and shit," Dean said, gesturing to the bag on the table. "Sam's idea of a good breakfast, apparently. Don't blame me for the fact that they're all disgusting whole grain crap, I wasn't the one who picked them out."

Castiel smiled and sat himself at the table, carefully picking out a bagel from the bag and taking a bite. Dean fought with the coffee maker for another few minutes, then finally succeeded in making two cups of coffee, then joined Castiel at the table, setting a mug in front of each of them.

Castiel figured that this was as good a time as any to start asking questions. He sipped his coffee – wincing a bit at the bitter taste, then accepting the packet of sugar that Dean offered him – and thought about what to say. Finally, he decided to start with the basics. "How did you and Sam find me?"

Dean swallowed, and something in his face shifted, which made Castiel wonder if this hadn't been such a simple question, after all. He did answer, though. "There'd been a witness," he said, using a forced-casual voice that made it clear that he didn't like talking about this. "Said that he saw the stabbing, and then a police officer matching her description had dragged the guy who had done the stabbing off in the back of her car." He stopped, and swallowed. "We sorta figured that she'd be taking him off to arrest him, but when that didn't happen, we started digging into her past a little more. Saw her number on my cell phone, figured out that she'd called you about ten minutes before it happened, decided that there was something fishy going on. Her family had once owned this barn that was now abandoned, figured we might as well start there." He looked away, and shrugged. "Didn't really know for sure that she was there, or that she was the bad guy we were looking for, but we had to do something, you know?"

Castiel nodded. "I am very grateful that you managed to find me," he said.

Dean snorted, though he obviously didn't feel any amusement. "Yeah, me too," he said.

There was something slightly odd about the way that he was speaking. Castiel carefully scooted his chair closer to Dean's, moving it around the table until they were sitting only inches apart, and then used the closer distance to better study Dean's face. "What's wrong?" he asked after a minute.

"What?" Dean asked, then shook his head. "Nothing."

"No, I sense that there is something more," he said, hoping that he was right. His people skills were obviously not that well developed, but he had gotten much better at reading Dean Winchester's emotions, and he was fairly certain that he was right about this. Then he remembered, and said, "The day that I was attacked, you got angry with me, and told me not to do something again. What did I do?"

Dean shook his head again, more empathetically this time. "Nothing," he said. Castiel opened his mouth to protest, but Dean said, "No, really, nothing. It's not like you went around begging to get kidnapped and all cut up. It's just- God, Jimmy, you scared the shit out of me, okay?"

Castiel frowned. "I am sorry," he said sincerely. "My disappearance must have been frightening-"

"Disappearance?" Dean asked, then broke off and once more shook his head. Castiel was beginning to think that it was a defensive gesture more than a denial.

Castiel's frown deepened, and he leaned even closer to Dean. "What?" he asked. When Dean didn't say anything more, he prodded, "Please, tell me what you're thinking."

Dean turned back to him. "Jesus fuck, Jimmy," he practically snapped. "We thought that you were dead."

For a moment, Castiel could only stare.

"What?" he asked, then quickly said, "I am okay."

"Yeah, I know that now," Dean said, and was instantly on his feet, as if he couldn't stand to remain sitting any longer, and began pacing beside the table with a restless energy. "But what the hell was I supposed to think, huh, when I arrived back at the motel after spending four hours digging up a fucking grave, and there are cops swarming everywhere talking about how there had been a murder, and then we get over there and there's your fucking body lying on the ground."

Castiel froze. He had known that the shapeshifter had worn his body when he'd died, but he had never thought about the implications before now. Perhaps it was understandable, given everything else that had been occupying his mind, but suddenly, he was overrun by horror, imagining what that must have been like, and how he would feel if he had been in that position, finding Dean's lifeless body on the ground. It was not something that he wished to think about. "Dean-"

Dean was not finished. It was as if a dam had burst, and the words kept coming. "So then we're trying to lead an investigation, because I was absolutely fucking determined that we were going to find this thing now, so we're questioning people about how you were fighting with some other guy that the witness didn't get a good look at, and then we're asking about the details of how you were stabbed in the chest, and how you were dead from the moment your body hit the ground, they tried to see if CPR would do anything but it-" His voice broke off, and he had to take a breath before he could continue. "And you know what? The whole time I was hunting this bitch, I was thinking that I was doing it because I wanted to find your murderer and make 'em pay for what they did for you, and you are not fucking allowed to do that to me again, you got it?"

Castiel swallowed. "Yes, I got it," he promised, then stood and took a step closer to Dean. Dean didn't stop moving, or even acknowledge him. "I am sorry, Dean," he said. "The shapeshifter was trying to kill me, and stabbing him was the only means of self defense that I had available. And I would have stayed around to explain to you that I was still alive, but Felicity knocked me unconscious before I could."

"Yeah, I got that," Dean said, and rubbed his eyes again. "God, I hate that fucking bitch. I'm glad that I got to blow her brains out."

Castiel thought back on what she had told him about her siblings, and wasn't sure if he could bring himself to share Dean's hatred, despite everything. He did not think it would be useful to say that, though, and so he remained silent.

Instead, he took another step toward Dean and placed one hand on his shoulder. Dean was facing away from Castiel – he had turned that way during his pacing – and now he froze in place. Castiel could feel the tenseness of Dean's muscles under his hands.

"I really am sorry," he said. "It was rude of me to let you think that I was dead. I will make sure that it doesn't happen again."

Dean's shoulder shook slightly as he chuckled, still without any humor, but Castiel took that as a good sign. He stepped closer, until he and Dean were barely an inch apart. Immediately, his thought went to the things that Dean had said before about personal space, but right now, he hardly thought that it mattered. And anyway, Dean did not protest, though he did stiffen even further under Castiel's fingers.

"I will not leave you if you do not wish me to," Castiel said softly. "I can promise you that right now." Privately, he wondered at the fact that he even got to make this promise. He had always assumed that eventually, he would be made to leave the Winchesters, and that it would be Dean's decision. Or perhaps Sam's, but Sam had always seemed slightly more inclined to let Castiel stick around, while Dean had been the one who had been eager to go back to hunting alone with his brother.

And that might still happen someday, but Castiel still felt confident in making this promise. If he left, then it would be because Dean had wanted him to, and not because Castiel wished to abandon them.

Castiel hesitated, then added, "I will always be here, if you wish." Immediately, he wondered if this was going too far, if Dean would be uncomfortable with that kind of promise. Castiel shoved down the doubts, though, because Dean looked as though he needed to hear something like this.

Dean didn't respond for a long minute, and Castiel once again began to worry that he had made a mistake, after all. He removed his hand from Dean's shoulder and took one step back, enough to put slight distance between them, but not enough that he left Dean completely.

"You mean that?" Dean asked. HIs voice was hoarse, and he was using a tone of voice that Castiel had never heard from him before.

Castiel blinked, surprised that Dean even had to ask. "Of course," he said, and meant it sincerely.

There was another second where Dean did not move.

Then Dean spun around and grabbed him. Castiel stiffened instinctively, more because he wasn't sure what was happening than because he had any issue with the fact that Dean's hands were now on his waist, holding tight, his nails digging into Castiel's skin in a way that was almost painful. "What are you-?" Castiel began, but there was no time for answers, not even time for Castiel to finish his question, because then Dean pressed his lips against Castiel's.

That made Castiel stiffen further, once more caught by surprise, his mind racing to comprehend his current situation. Then he understood.

Dean Winchester was kissing him.

Dean quickly pulled back and stepped away, shaking his head and turning away, shoulders hunched and an uncomfortable look on his face. Castiel wondered if that meant that something had gone wrong, or if this was something that shouldn't have happened. Maybe the best course of action was to pretend that it hadn't happened, considering that Dean was already beginning to leave him. But that wasn't what Castiel wanted. And so he cleared his throat, and decided that he could at least ask.

"Do you think that we could do that again?" he asked, his voice only slightly hesitant. "I was too surprised to realize what was happening before, and I would like to be prepared this time."

That was evidently the right thing to say, because Dean's shoulders relaxed slightly, and he turned back to Castiel. "You want to?" he asked, sounding equally hesitant, and not at all like the man who knew how to kill every type of supernatural creature in existence.

"Very much," Castiel admitted.

Again, it seemed that he had chosen the right words. Or, at least, he chose words that made Dean close the distance between them and kiss him again, which made Castiel believe that they had been the perfect thing to say.

This time, he knew what was happening, and what to expect, so he could truly pay attention to what was happening. The kiss itself was not a surprise.

What was a surprise, though, was how much Castiel enjoyed it.

There had been a time during the week where they didn't hunt when Dean had decided to introduce Castiel to his favorite TV show. It was called DR. Sexy, MD, and Castiel did not understand what the appeal was, but Dean continually insisted that it was the best show in the world, so Castiel had agreed to watch an episode, which had led to Castiel being stuck on the coach for five hours straight, as Dean continued to insist that the next episode would be the one that convinced Castiel that this was a good show, and then the next one, and then the next.

Castiel had never enjoyed the plots, not even the ones that weren't so convoluted that they made no sense. But there was one aspect of the show that he'd discovered that he enjoyed, even though he had never said so out loud.

Every single episode had at least one scene where Dr. Sexy kissed someone. And not small kisses, either. Very dramatic, almost sloppy kissing, usually with a nurse who ended up backed against the wall by the end of it. Dean had called it making out, and somewhere around the fifth "making out" that Castiel had watched, his mind had begun to wander, and he had found himself wondering what it would be like to kiss Dean this way.

He hadn't said anything, of course, as it had seemed awkward to say something about it. Castiel had minimal social skills, but even he had picked up on the fact that kissing was something important – though Dr. Sexy didn't seem to think so, considering the number of people that he kissed. Even so, Castiel had still been completely aware that Dean might make him leave at any time, and decided that asking Dean to kiss him would be a horrible idea, and likely just make things uncomfortable.

But at the end of those five hours, when Dean asked what he thought of the show, Castiel had been truthful when he said that he had enjoyed himself. And he had continued to think about Dean and kissing, and what it would be like.

Now, he knew. And it was much, much better than his imagination had made it seem.

Sometime later, Castiel found himself lying back on the bed, with Dean beside him. Castiel's wounds were beginning to ache from the exertion, but he hadn't harmed any of his stitches, nor reopened his unstitched wound, so it was remarkably easy to ignore the pain. In all honesty, it hardly bothered him. Though he was grateful that he had never gotten around to putting on a shirt, both because it meant that there was no fabric to rub against his bandages, and for other reasons.

Dean, though, seemed more concerned about them than Castiel was. "We gotta be careful," he murmured against Castiel's mouth, and moved one hand up to touch the side of his bandages lightly. "Don't do that much."

Castiel nodded in agreement, then asked, "Can we do more?"

"Yeah," Dean said, and kissed him again. "You want to?"

"Yeah."

Castiel wasn't sure what more there was to do. He knew the word sex, of course, but he wasn't entirely positive of what it entailed, as he had never had reason before to weak out that information.

It was alright, though. He was fairly certain that Dean would be willing to teach him.

Sam returned a few hours later.

"Hey," he called as he opened the door. "Figured that I wouldn't be able to get away with stealing the Impala for much longer, so I'm-"

He paused, staring at the bed. Dean and Castiel were both dressed by this point, which was lucky timing – they had only gotten out of the bed about fifteen minutes before Sam's return. However, the bed was still a mess, the blankets scattered every which way, some of them tossed onto the floor, where they were joined by random articles of Dean and Castiel's clothing. Considering that Sam seemed to be very observant, Castiel thought that it wouldn't be a surprise if Sam could figure out what had happened, and immediately looked over to Dean to see what his reaction would be.

Dean stiffened, his whole body going tense, and he rubbed one hand through his hair. "Thanks," he said, awkwardly. "I'm getting a little stir crazy just staying in the motel room, to be honest."

"Really?" Sam asked, his face completely blank. "Because it looked like you found something to do."

"Shut up," Dean mumbled.

Sam snorted then, a small smile appearing on his face. "Geez, Dean, never thought I'd see the day when you had sex and then didn't immediately come brag to be about it," he said, then added, "It's about noon. Want to go head somewhere for lunch? There's a place just down the street that looks good."

"Uh, yeah," Dean said quickly. "Yeah, that sounds good."

"Cool," Sam said. He took a few steps into the room, just far enough that he could grab his duffel bag out of the corner, then turned and left. "And no offense, but I'm going to wait for you outside. And I'm getting my own room."

Castiel hurried to say, "I don't wish to force you out of the room-"

Sam just smiled, though, which reassured Castiel immensely. "Yeah, thanks, but I think that we'd all be happier if you two get to have a room to yourselves," he said, then added, "Don't take too long getting ready, okay? I'm starving." Then he left.

Castiel slowly turned back to Dean, who looked as if he had relaxed immensely, though he was strangely silent. Castiel took a hesitant step forward, and laid a hand on the side of Dean's arm. Despite what they had done earlier that day, part of him still wondered if this was acceptable behavior or not, or if he was pushing things too far. "Is this okay?" he asked, and wasn't quite sure what he would say if Dean told him no.

Dean took a deep breath, though, and after a minute, he smiled. The smile looked the slightest bit tight, just a little too bright to be real, but it still made Castiel feel better, regardless, even if part of him worried about why it wasn't completely genuine.

"Yeah, this is good," he said, and reached down to give Castiel's hand a brief squeeze, before going over to retrieve his cell phone and wallet from the pants that had been discarded to the ground earlier. "Come on, Sam will whine like a little bitch if we make him wait any longer," he said, then gestured for Castiel to follow him out of the motel room.

There was still something not quite right about Dean's behavior, Castiel was sure of it. But for now, he decided not to question it. Later, he decided. He would bring it up later, if he needed to. For now, though, he wanted to simply enjoy this new development, and not think about whatever it was that made Dean's smile turn to a frown the moment that he thought that Castiel wasn't looking.