CHAPTER 14

Sam looked undeniably happy as they drove to the nearest restaurant. He had a smile on his face, and kept glancing back and forth between Dean and Castiel, looking pleased. It was almost enough to make up for the fact that Dean didn't look nearly as happy.

If Sam had noticed how quiet Dean was, or that the look on his face was something akin to worry, it didn't appear to bother him. Even so, none of them said a word during the drive.

It was only once they were finally seated at the restaurant and had placed their orders that Sam looked across the table at the two of them, then said, "So, you two finally got your heads out of your asses?"

Dean scowled, and shifted in his seat. "I don't know what you mean," he said stiffly, reaching forward to take a long sip of his coke.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Come on," he said. "Don't even pretend that I don't know what you two were up to while I was gone." Then he shrugged, and added, "It's not like it's a big deal, you know."

"Obviously," Dean said. He wasn't looking at Sam, or at Castiel.

Castiel frowned. "Are you alright?" he asked carefully, reaching over to place a hand on the top of Dean's thigh.

Castiel understood the concept of personal space well enough to know that there were certain places where one could touch, and areas where it wasn't allowed. But he had thought that he and Dean had removed those barriers – or, at least, Dean hadn't seemed to have any complaints about where Castiel had been touching earlier. Now, though, he reached down and moved Castiel's hand away.

"I'm fine," he said. "Jesus, Jimmy, you're the one with the knife wounds, you should be worrying about yourself." He shook his head. "You two are acting like the world just fucking exploded or something."

Sam raised one eyebrow. "No," he said. "Pretty sure that I'd be freaking out a whole lot more if that was the case." It was true; Sam did appear completely calm about this new development, as though it hadn't been a surprise to him at all, even though Castiel himself hadn't expected it.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Point is, you're acting like this is some big deal," he said. "It isn't. Nothing happened."

Castiel wanted to argue that, but he paused, unsure of what to say. It was clear that something had happened between the two of them – at least, Castiel definitely counted the kissing as "something". But then, it wasn't as though Dean had simply forgotten about it, so pointing that out wouldn't do any good. But Castiel didn't know what else he could say.

"Yeah?" Sam asked. "So you two aren't dating, then?"

Sam had clearly meant that question as rhetorical – Castiel was getting somewhat better at telling the difference now – but Dean answered, regardless. "No," he said, firm enough that it left no room for doubts. "We're not."

The happy look slid off of Sam's face, replaced with a frown. That clearly hadn't been what he had expected to hear.

Castiel found that he couldn't bring himself to look at either brother, and instead stared intently at the straw wrapper on the table in front of him. He could feel Sam's eyes on him, looking as though he didn't know what to say any more than Castiel did.

"I'm gonna hit the bathroom quick," Dean said, and quickly slid out of the booth. Castiel couldn't tell if he truly needed to use the bathroom, or if he was simply making an excuse. Either way, it didn't take long for him to walk away.

"Jimmy," Sam began, then paused.

Castiel shook his head. "It's alright," he said, making his voice firm, so that it would seem believable. "I will talk to him, figure out what's wrong." Sam looked unsure, but Castiel simply repeated, even firmer this time, "It's alright." After all, he knew Dean well enough to know that he wouldn't appreciate having Sam interfere. And more than that, Castiel also felt as though he wished to handle this by himself, without interference from Sam. This was a problem between the two of them, after all. He did not need Sam to deal with it for him.

Slowly, Sam leaned back in his seat, and then nodded. "Okay," he said. "You two talk it out."

Castiel swallowed. "We will," he promised.

Castiel and Dean never talked. Or, specifically, Dean never talked to Castiel.

It had been three days since he and Dean had kissed. The wounds on Castiel's chest were healing well, and though they still caused him pain, he was able to do most regular tasks – admittedly, he was still very careful about how he went about them.

Dean was still checking the wounds every day. Castiel didn't think that this was strictly necessary – he could tell that the wounds were healing well, and that there didn't appear to be any problems. Dean insisted, though, and so Castiel didn't argue, even if Dean's assessment was nothing that Castiel didn't already know.

So he supposed that he had been exaggerating when he said that he and Dean never spoke. Dean spoke to him sometimes, asking if he was hungry, or commenting on how the wounds were healing, even suggesting movies or TV shows for Castiel to watch during the day, when there was little else to do. But he said nothing important – and specifically, he never mentioned the kiss again.

Castiel tried. The afternoon after the conversation in the restaurant, Castiel slowly looked Dean in the eyes. Dean didn't appear to notice – he was inspecting the stitches on Castiel's shoulder, a look of concentration on his face. But Castiel didn't look away, and as soon as it looked as though Dean were done, he asked, "Are you certain that you're okay?"

Dean looked up, and Castiel could tell that he didn't understand. "Shouldn't you be asking that about yourself?" he asked, then shook his head and gestured for Castiel to button up his shirt again. "Yeah, you're fine. No sign of any infection or anything, so that's awesome. I was worried about that, since psycho killers aren't exactly known for cleaning off their weapons, but I'm hoping that you're in the clear."

"Good," Castiel said simply. "But that's not what I'm asking." Dean frowned then, and Castiel waited until Dean faced him, then said, "We kissed yesterday. I had thought that it meant something, so I was surprised when you said-"

Dean didn't allow him to finish. He was already starting to stand, turning his back on Castiel. "I'm going to head out for a bit," he said, instead of answering the question, or even acknowledging its existence. "I'll be back late, so you and Sam don't mind calling to order something for dinner, right?"

"Dean," Castiel said, also standing and following a few steps behind him. "I know that you don't wish to have this conversation, but this is important. At the very least, you must speak to me about this."

"I'll see you later, Jimmy," Dean said, giving Castiel a wave over his shoulder, and then allowed the motel door to slam shut behind him.

All of his conversations with Dean ended in that manner, with Dean leaning, or finding some way to end the conversation before Castiel was able to say anything important.

Castiel didn't understand it. He had seen enough television to know that kissing was typically associated with romantic attraction. And yes, he also knew that that wasn't always the case – he had seen a few different types of shows, after all, and Dr. Sexy never seemed to feel love toward any of his kissing partners. Maybe Castiel had misinterpreted Dean's actions, and thought that they meant more than Dean had wanted them to. After all, he knew well enough that he wouldn't be the first person that Dean made sexual advances toward, and then didn't speak to again.

But Castiel couldn't forget the look in Dean's eyes when they'd been lying in bed together, as though he were memorizing all of his features, every inch of his skin. And he remembered the way that Dean's voice had cracked when he'd been talking about believing that Castiel had been dead.

He had thought that those things had made him different than the others that Dean had had sex with in the past. Now, he was simply confused.

It was four days after the kiss when Castiel finally decided that he and Dean were going to talk, and that he wasn't going to let anything stop him.

Dean was once again checking Castiel's wounds when Castiel decided that they would have this conversation. It was the only time that he could guarantee that Dean would be there. Dean had been spending more and more time away from the motel, going to unknown places and only returning late at night, if at all. Castiel also knew that Dean had been spending half of the nights sleeping in Sam's motel room, even if Sam looked as though he didn't approve, and seemed to spend quite a lot of time lately with his arms crossed, giving Dean a disapproving look that Dean never paid any attention to.

He always showed up to check Castiel's wounds, though, even if he left immediately after.

The two of them were sitting on the bed together, with Castiel's legs stretched out in front of him. He was leaning back against the headboard, while Dean sat beside him on the edge of the bed, head turned to look at the wound in his shoulder.

"Yeah," Dean said now, and nodded his head, already turning away. "It's gonna be another few days before we want to remove them – and trust me, that's not exactly going to be a picnic, either. But other than that, yeah, you're good."

He was already beginning to stand up and walk away, but Castiel shifted positions, leaning forward and closing his hand around Dean's wrist, holding tight enough that Dean would not easily pull himself free.

Dean looked like he was going to try, but then his eyes flickered toward Castiel's shoulder – Castiel had grabbed him with his injured arm, intentionally – and he made no attempts at getting away. He didn't seem to want to risk pulling any of the stitches, as Castiel had hoped. Instead, he just snapped, "What are you doing?"

"I need you to explain your behavior to me," Castiel said, as firmly as he could.

"I don't know what you mean," Dean said. That had been a common line over the past few days, and by now, Castiel had heard it often enough to know that it couldn't possibly be true.

Castiel just tightened his hand around Dean's wrist, and said firmly, "We kissed, and performed sexual acts. I can understand if there was a misunderstanding about what this meant, and if you don't wish for the two of us to have a relationship. But at the very least, I need to be able to talk about what has been happening."

For a second, Dean looked like he was going to protest. Then he sighed, and his shoulders slumped slightly. "Fine," he said. "Go ahead. Talk."

Castiel blinked. Honestly, he had expected more of an argument from Dean. And now that he knew that he was going to be able to speak, he wasn't entirely sure what to say.

Dean tugged his arm lightly, trying to pull it from Castiel's hand. Castiel let go. He didn't think that Dean would walk away now. And Dean didn't, though he did place his hands in his lap and scoot further down the bed, out of Castiel's reach.

Despite all of the times that Dean had walked away from him before, seeing him move away hurt more than Castiel would have thought that it would, and suddenly, he knew what he wanted to say. "You and Sam are the only family that I have." It was true. Maybe he had other family out there, but he didn't know if he would find them any time soon. And even if he did, he couldn't imagine caring about other family in the same way that he cared for Sam and Dean. "I care about you deeply, Dean, and I don't want anything to harm our relationship. If you don't wish to have a sexual relationship with me, then I will understand, but please don't refuse to speak with me."

He would be disappointed. He had enjoyed the things that he and Dean had done together, and he got the impression that there was more that Dean could show him, and whatever they were, he very much wanted to try them. But more than that, he wanted the feeling that he had had when he and Dean had kissed, as though Dean valued him in the same way that Castiel valued Dean. The thought almost made him angry, because Dean should have known better than to act as though he felt that way when he had no intention of continuing a relationship.

But he would accept it, if this was really the case. What he wouldn't accept was the way that Dean was currently treating him.

"It isn't like that," Dean protested, and let out a long breath. "Look, man, I'm not doing this to try to hurt you or anything like that. It's just, starting a thing between us isn't a good idea, okay? You get that, right?"

Castiel narrowed his eyes. "No," he said. "No, I don't get why it would be such a bad thing. I was happy, and you looked as though you were, too. So tell me, why shouldn't this continue?"

Dean's eyes also narrowed. "Because it ain't gonna work out," he said. "I'm being smart here, alright? Trust me, you're not going to want to do this, and I'm just trying to save us both the trouble."

Castiel frowned, and moved himself forward, closer to Dean. Dean did not move away, and Castiel believed that that was a good sign, even if Dean still wasn't looking at him. Still, though, when Castiel spoke, his voice was hard. "You can say that you aren't going to want to be in a relationship with me, and I will accept that," he said, "but you aren't allowed to pretend that you are making a decision for my sake. If you chose not to be in a relationship, at least tell me so straight out."

"You don't understand," Dean said, and he was on his feet, turning around and finally meeting Castiel's eyes. "It's not that I don't want to, dude, it's that we fucking shouldn't."

Castiel remained seated, tilting his head back to continue looking at Dean. He tilted his head, considering that. "Does it have anything to do with Sam?" Castiel finally asked. "You seemed fine until the moment that he entered the motel room. Did you… not want Sam to know what we had done?" He couldn't think of any reason why that would be the case, but it was the only explanation that he could think of.

Dean blinked, and for a second, he looked honestly surprised at Castiel's question. So that hadn't been it, then. "No," Dean said after a minute. He shifted awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck, then added, "I mean, it's kinda weird. I hadn't exactly… come out, or whatever. But he was, well, I knew that he knew, and-" Dean's voice broke off, and he shook his head. "Shit," he muttered, then finally said, "It's not like me liking guys is some secret, okay? That's not the problem."

Castiel nodded. Dean looked honest, and he didn't have any reason not to believe him. "Then, what is the problem?" he asked. "And why did you suddenly look so upset when he walked in?"

Dean's face darkened, and his eyes flickered to the floor, as if he couldn't make himself keep looking at Castiel. "He reminded me of something else, okay? Something that happened, and it's the real reason this isn't going to work out, okay? Is that good enough for you?"

"No," Castiel said immediately. "Tell me what this other reason is."

Now, Dean didn't even hesitate. "No," he said, shaking his head. "Forget I said anything about it, okay? Just forget that any of this ever happened, and believe me when I say I'm trying to be the good guy here."

He walked away before Castiel could collect his thoughts enough to respond. Castiel thought that if he stood and went after him, he could make Dean stop, and force this conversation to continue. He didn't, though. There likely wouldn't be a point. He could already tell that Dean intended on saying nothing more.

The door swung closed – Dean was leaving in the Impala, his default response during the past four days. It left Castiel alone, still sitting on the bed, trying to figure out what Dean could have possibly been talking about. And the only solution that he could reach was that Dean had been lying.

Specifically, that Dean had been lying about wanting to continue this relationship, and that he was only refusing to do so for Castiel's sake. After all, Castiel had told him that he didn't want Dean to do that, and it hadn't changed Dean's mind. Clearly there had to be some other reason for his behavior, then.

Although, choosing to disregard Castiel's wishes because he believed that he knew better was something that he believed Dean capable of, if he had gotten it in his head that he was doing the right thing. Maybe that was the reason, after all. Castiel didn't know, and by now, it had almost stopped mattering to him. All he knew was that Dean, for whatever reason, had decided that this relationship wasn't going to happen, and Castiel was not going to try to change that if Dean had made up his mind.

He went to bed early that night, very deliberately choosing not to wait up for when Dean returned that night. After all, there was no guarantee that he would come back here, instead of choosing to sleep on the couch in Sam's room. And even if he did come back – well, that wouldn't matter. They could talk, but for what? Dean's decision had been made.

Castiel tried very hard not to feel angry about that. It didn't work terribly well, but he tried his best.

When he woke the next morning, though, it was immediately obvious that Dean had slept here the night before. The second bed was messy, more so than it had been the night before. One of the chairs had been moved. A paper bag sat on the table, and Castiel could smell fresh-brewed coffee.

And there was a new trench coat laying at the foot of his bed.

Castiel sat up slowly, and reached down to look at it. It didn't look exactly the same as the one that had been ruined when Felicity stabbed him, but the design was similar, and it looked to be the same size. Castiel was certain that it would fit him well enough, and it had the same hidden pockets that made attracted him to the previous coat, even if they were located in different places.

Castiel looked around the motel room. The coat could have only been a gift from Dean, though Castiel could tell at once that Dean had already left the motel. Still, though, he must have gone shopping specifically to find this coat, and possibly returned to the motel just so that he could leave it here.

It was a nice gesture, and a wonderful gift – possibly the best that Castiel had ever received. And he had absolutely no idea what it was supposed to mean, or if it even meant anything at all.

"I don't understand," Castiel said, frowning at the phone he held in one hand, then glancing over at Sam. "You're going to have to explain it to me."

It had been five days since Castiel's failed conversation with Dean, and he was currently sitting on the couch in Sam's motel room. He had been spending quite a lot of time here, since Dean still was not saying anything of importance to Castiel, and the small talk that Dean did try to make when they ran into each other was uncomfortable at best. Part of Castiel almost didn't mind; he enjoyed spending time with Sam, and it was clear that Sam enjoyed his presence as well.

Or, he pretended that he didn't mind. He couldn't help but miss spending time with Dean, even if it wasn't in a romantic way. Still, though, the time with Sam was nice, so that was what he endeavored to remind himself of.

Sam shook his head, though he was also smiling. "It's really not that difficult," he said. "Just push that button there."

Sam pointed to the one that he meant, and Castiel continued to frown, but did so. The screen changed into a list of names.

"See?" Sam said, and took the phone from Castiel's hands, though he continued to hold it out so that Castiel could see what he was doing. "You use these buttons to scroll to the name that you want, and then this-" Sam moved so that his own name was highlighted, and then pressed another button – "is how you call."

Castiel waited, and sure enough, after another moment he heard Sam's cell phone begin to ring.

"Thank you," Castiel said, taking the phone from Sam again. "Really, thank you."

Sam shrugged. "Only makes sense, doesn't it?" he said. "You're going to need a phone of your own, just in case." He paused for just a second, then added casually, "You know, it was Dean's idea to get you one."

Castiel stiffened, and he wasn't in the mood to discuss Dean at that moment, so he quickly began looking through the list of names. Sam and Dean were there three times each, for all of their different phones. And Castiel recognized the names Ellen and Ash, and even John Winchester. But the rest were unfamiliar to him. "Who are these people?" he asked, glancing at Sam.

"Hunting contacts we know," Sam said, and shrugged again. "They'll give you someone else to call if there's ever an emergency and you can't reach Dean or I. Start with Bobby if you're even in trouble." Castiel scrolled up the list, until he found the name Bobby Singer near the top. "There were times when Dean and I practically lived with him growing up. He'll help you if you need it."

Castiel nodded. "Thank you," he said, and slid the phone into his pocket. He was wearing the trench coat that Dean had given him, which felt somewhat odd, considering the fact that things between him and Dean were still so strained. He had to admit that it looked nice, though. He thought that he might like it better than the first one, which was equal parts nice and infuriating, because he didn't want to enjoy Dean's gift so much when he was still angry.

Sam was watching him with an odd expression on his face. "Listen," he said after a minute. "I'm not going to pry into what's going on with you and Dean if you don't want me to-"

"Thank you," Castiel said.

"-but I can tell that my brother's being an idiot," Sam finished. "He'll get over it, okay?"

Castiel grimaced. "Thank you," he repeated, "but I don't think that-"

He had meant to say that he doubted that Dean's decision was ever going to change, but he didn't get the chance to finish, because right then, Dean used his key to open the motel door and walk in. He had a piece of paper in one hand, his phone in the other, and as he kicked the door shut, he also snapped his phone closed and tucked it back into his pocket.

"Just got off the phone with Ash," Dean said, as though he had no idea that he was interrupting their conversation, or else didn't care. "He's finally managing to make some progress with the list of Azazel's kids or whatever." He dropped onto the end of Sam's bed, and added, "And by that, he means that he's found about a dozen kids whose moms were killed in a fire when they were six months old, along with-" he checked the paper in his hand "-eight kids who had their dad die, one kid who lost his stepmother, and another one whose grandmother burned." Dean glanced up. "They were all born in 1983, so we were right about that connection. Ash thinks that there might be more, so he's started some program to look for demon omens that cropped up that year, even in places that didn't have fires."

"Let me see," Sam said, jumping up off the couch to snatch the paper out of Dean's hand. Castiel followed, and peered at the paper as well. It was difficult to read Dean's handwriting, but even so, he could tell that it was a list of roughly two dozen names, with Sam's written at the top. Beside all of the names were the date when the fire had occurred, and one name was marked by a dark asterisk.

"What does this mean?" Sam asked, holding the paper back out toward Dean and pointing toward it.

Dean didn't even seem to have to look at the paper to know what Sam meant. He frowned, his face grim. "That girl's missing."

Castiel's mouth felt dry. "Missing?"

Dean nodded, and from the look on his face, he didn't feel much better. "Yeah," he said, only glancing at Castiel for a moment before returning his focus to Sam. "Ash says that she vanished about a month ago. No sign of a forced entry, nothing to make anyone think that she was going to run off – just, gone." He shrugged. "Probably nothing. I mean, with twenty names, at least one of them was bound to do some weird shit. No reason to think it means anything."

Still, though, his eyes didn't leave Sam's face, and Castiel could tell that he was worried.

Sam took a deep breath, and nodded. "I'll do some research," he said, "see what I can find."

"Great," Dean said, grimacing slightly. "More research. That's just what I want to do."

"You would rather go out and hunt something?" Castiel asked.

"Fuck yes," Dean said, shaking his head like the answer was obvious. And it had been, given Dean's personality. Castiel would have been shocked by any other answer.

Castiel hesitated for a moment, then said, "I agree. I think that we should be hunting again." Actually, he was surprised that they had not already taken a case. After all, Sam had hunted the day after he had been bitten by the Vetala. Granted, Sam had far more experience with compensating for injuries than Castiel did, and part of him was grateful that the Winchesters had given him more time to heal. Still, though, the stitches had been removed from the wound yesterday, and though his shoulder and chest were both still somewhat tender, he was more than ready to begin a new hunt.

"Maybe you could find some new case for us to take?" Castiel suggested, turning to Sam. At the very least, perhaps things with Dean would become less awkward once they were doing something besides staying in the same motel for more than a week.

Or maybe the long rides in the car were going to make things worse than they were now, since neither one of them would be able to leave the other's presence. Castiel had to admit that that was a distinct possibility. But it would be worth it to be doing something again.

Sam frowned, then said, "I did see a story this morning about a hiker getting murdered. I wasn't going to mention it, but if we want to start a new hunt-"

"Yes," Dean said, standing and heading for the door. "I'm going to go pack my stuff."

"You don't even know what the case is," Sam said.

Dean snorted. "And I don't care," he said. "So long as we're out there doing something, I'm happy."

Castiel felt much the same way, so he said, "If you believe that this death was related to something supernatural, then we should take the case."

Sam glanced between Castiel and Dean, and then slowly, he nodded. "Okay," he said, turning and started shoving clothes into his own duffel. "In that case, let's get going. We're going to have a long drive ahead of us."