CHAPTER 7

"Don't answer it," Cas said at once, almost before the words were fully out of Dean's mouth.

Okay, Dean could definitely get behind that plan. It was exactly the kind of thing that he would've come up with, actually. But he could feel something tugging on his conscious, this annoying little voice trying to tell him to do the right thing and blah blah blah, and it was enough to make Dean pause. "As much as I hate to say it," Dean said slowly, "you did disappear from the hospital after being in a coma for two days, and she does think that you're her husband. Shouldn't we talk to her about this, say something?"

"Do you want to talk to her?"

"Not really," Dean said, "but I will." He still didn't feel all that comfortable with the idea, but he wasn't dreading it the way that he had been earlier. It was kinda amazing how much less he disliked her now that he knew that Cas wasn't actually married to her. It was more like he could feel bad for her for losing her husband without feeling so guilty about stealing him, and he didn't have to worry about Cas leaving him to go back to her, because the two of them had never actually been together. And it was selfish of him – he knew it – but there it was.

The phone was still ringing. Dean figured that it would go for another couple rings at most, meaning that they had to decide now whether or not to pick it up.

"The problem is," Cas said slowly, looking down at his body, "I'm not her husband, even if I appear to be him. I have never been her husband." A pause, then he said, "What she wants is something that I can never give to her. I'm not sure what I can say to someone from which I have already stolen so much. But yes, if you think that you can say something comforting, then you should answer her call."

Dean was pretty sure that he should do it. He even lifted the phone, ready to flip it open and stick it against his ear. But Cas was staring down at his feet, shoulders hunched and hands shoved into his pockets, looking like he was trying to make himself small, tension written into every line of his body.

Dean glanced at the phone again, then set it onto the table beside him. It rang once more, then went silent.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked. "You weren't the one who took his body. I mean, Hester ripped out your grace and stuck your soul into someone else's body, right? That had nothing to do with you. That means that you're free of the blame on this one."

"In theory, yes," Cas said, and shook his head. "That doesn't change the fact that I am inhabiting the body of a man who had a wife and daughter, and a life that was taken from him. It doesn't mean that Amelia and Claire will suffer less over the fact that Jimmy is gone, and I likely made the situation worse by being admitted to the hospital, and giving them hope that the man they loved had returned." Cas was silent, but Dean could practically see some other thought swirling around in Cas' mind. And whatever this one was, Dean got the sense that it was going to be the most important thing Cas had to say, at least in Cas' opinion. Which was why he was quiet, and just waited. Which was damn hard, since he mostly just wanted to urge Cas to hurry up, but he managed.

And finally, Cas did say it. "It doesn't change the fact that Jimmy never had a choice."

Yup, that was definitely the thing that was bothering Cas the most. Dean could tell it by the way he spoke the words – quietly, but also with some sadness and bitterness and anger all swirling around. The only thing that Dean wasn't sure about was why. "What exactly do you mean?"

Cas looked up, his eyes meeting Dean's, his voice suddenly turning much fiercer. "This is the thing that makes us different than demons, Dean," he said. "Demons take whoever they wish as a vessel, but angels require consent. I have taken vessels before, sometimes for years. I had inhabited Jimmy's grandfather for several years, even. But every time, my vessel has given consent. I would never take someone who wasn't willing." Another pause, then, "If I took Jimmy's life away from him and stole his body, than that makes me no better than the demons, Dean. And that is something that I am not able to deal with."

For a moment, Dean couldn't think of anything to say.

Then he scowled, and grabbed Cas by the arms, fingers wrapping tight. "Okay, you're going to need to stop with that bullshit."

Cas blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Feeling guilty over something that you can't control," Dean said. "Because yeah, I feel sorry for the guy, okay? I'm sure he didn't deserve to have someone take his body like this, and I'm sure it sucks for him. But seriously? Calling yourself the same as a demon?"

"Free choice is the most important thing, Dean," Cas insisted. "And Jimmy didn't-"

"Yeah, like I just told you, I freakin' know that," Dean said. Cas was still frowning, not looking convinced, so Dean added, "You didn't exactly get a free choice, either, you know. You never asked to get turned into a human, or to get stuck into someone's body and have to deal with all of this guilt that keeps building up because of that. If you're going to be so worried about free will, then you should at least get upset on your own behalf, too."

Cas opened his mouth, then closed it. "I hadn't thought of it like that," he finally said.

"Yeah, well, you should," Dean said.

Cas slowly nodded, then narrowed his eyes at Dean. "You do realize how hypocritical it is for you to be giving me this advice?" he asked. "I am pretty sure that you blame yourself for far more than you need to."

Dean didn't even bother to ask how Cas had known that. Dean was pretty sure that he hadn't done anything to make that particularly obvious, and he definitely hadn't said anything out loud. But he was sure that if he asked, Cas would just say something else about how he paid attention to Dean, and it was obvious because of all these different things that Dean unknowingly did, and Dean was pretty sure that he didn't want to know all of that. So he just shrugged. "Just because I don't follow it doesn't mean that you shouldn't."

Cas was quiet for a moment, then he nodded. "Regardless," he said, "it doesn't change the fact that I still feel as though I owe her something. As if I should do something to make up for the fact that this happened, even if it hadn't been my fault."

"Well, I don't know what to tell you about that," Dean said, because he knew those kinds of feelings. They were messy, and didn't do anything to help anybody, but they also weren't anything that you could shake easily.

Cas nodded, not looking surprised. "I had not expected you to tell me anything," Cas said. "It is just how I feel." He lifted his hands slowly, turning them over like he was looking at them for the first time, studying them with this intense look on his face. "I would return Jimmy's body to him if I could," he said after a moment. "That would be one way that I could make amends."

Dean stiffened. "And what happens to you if you do that?" he demanded, voice coming out harsher than he'd intended, but Cas had caught him by surprise. "Where'd you go?"

Cas blinked at Dean, almost like he hadn't even thought of that. Of course he wouldn't have. Stupid idiot. "I'm not sure," Cas said, finally. "I suppose I would have to find some other vessel." But then he frowned, his eyes dropping back down to look at his hands.

"What?" Dean asked, and when Cas didn't answer, Dean reached forward and grabbed him by the arm. "What?"

"I would not wish to stay in that vessel for long, if I did take one," he said finally. "I dislike the idea of taking someone's entire life away from them, so I usually don't possess a vessel for more than a few years at most, and only when they've agreed to some higher purpose. I'm… not sure if I could find a vessel who would consent to simply allowing me to live in their form, for no reason other than I would like to remain with you and Sam for longer."

For a second, Dean didn't say anything.

Then he was grabbing Cas with both hands, pulling him a few steps closer. It's not like Cas had been that far away from Dean, but now, even that distance was gone, meaning that Dean and Cas were only inches apart, at that awkwardly-close distance that Cas seemed to like so much.

Now, though, Cas was frowning, looking more confused that pleased with this turn of events. "Dean?"

"Don't do that," Dean said, and again, he pretty sure he was sounding way too harsh, but he was at the point where he didn't really care. "You're not allowed to go hopping out of Jimmy's body now. You're going to stay put, alright?"

Cas nodded, still looking vaguely confused. "I know," he said. "For one, I'm not sure if I would even be able to leave my vessel, as depleted as my powers are. And even if I could, I wouldn't dare to return to Heaven long enough to find Jimmy's soul, nor would I be powerful enough to raise it in my current state." He looked down again, for just a moment, then added, "I believe that I will have to remain in Jimmy's form, regardless of whether I wish to or not."

"Okay," Dean said, and awkwardly released his hold on Cas' arm. "Fine, then. Awesome."

Dean wasn't holding him now, but Cas didn't back away. Dean hadn't expected him to; Cas didn't have a concept of boundaries. Not that Dean had that many boundaries when it came to Cas – not anymore, at least – but still.

"I also would not leave you," Cas said, in that same intense voice he'd been using pretty much this entire time. "I just promised that, didn't I? I would never leave my vessel if it meant that I couldn't find a way to return to your side." He hesitated, then ducked his head as he added, "I feel as if this makes me incredibly selfish, the fact that I have an excuse to never leave this vessel. If Jimmy's soul remains in Heaven, it means that I never have to worry about returning it to him, and I can remain on Earth, in this form, for however long that you and Sam need me."

Another long pause.

Cas shook his head. "It does sound selfish, doesn't it?" he asked. "Particularly considering the pain that Amelia and Claire have gone through. Honestly, I'm ashamed of myself for thinking it."

"No," Dean said quickly, and cleared his throat. "I was thinking the same thing, actually. It's… nice."

Cas' lips barely turned up into a smile. "Convenient," he said.

"Yeah, that," Dean agreed.

Cas' smile widened, and then he leaned forward to kiss Dean. Dean grabbed him, tangling one hand in Cas' hair and sliding the other one up under the back of Cas' shirt. And this time, he was pretty sure that neither one of them as going to be breaking this kiss any time soon.

After Cas had revealed that he was an angel and finished telling them all about that, Dean had sort of assumed that he was done with dropping major bombshells. Apparently he'd been wrong.

The three of them were sitting around Sam's motel room the next morning, eating out of the Styrofoam to-go boxes that Dean had basically had to kick Sam's ass to convince him to go out and get that morning. Or, Sam had actually volunteered for breakfast duty. The hard part had been convincing him to go get Dean the bacon and hash browns he'd asked for, instead of going on about egg whites and other weird stuff like that. Finally, though, he'd given in, and Dean was happily digging into his big pile of grease and heart disease, as Sam had named it.

Dean figured he was just jealous, considering that his own breakfast looked like it may have been sculpted out of cardboard. That, and it also looked like it'd actually been organically grown on a farm somewhere, which would be even worse. Give Dean the artificially-processed crap any day.

Cas was sitting next to Dean, staring down at his own food. It was every bit as greasy and delicious as what Dean had ordered for himself, since Cas had put him in charge of buying his food, and Dean had figured that the guy deserved something good in his life right now. He looked like he didn't enjoy it nearly as much as Dean did, considering that he spent half the time staring at it like it was some alien species, and the rest of the time he was picking his eggs into tiny pieces and eating them a bit at a time. Which was what he had been doing right when he suddenly lifted his head and glanced back and forth between Dean and Sam, then said, "We should go and retrieve the Colt."

Sam coughed, and nearly spit out his coffee. Dean was just glad that he hadn't had anything in his mouth right then, otherwise he would've ended up looking just as stupid. Cas, meanwhile, just blinked, looking like he didn't understand what had caused that reaction.

"Wait," Sam said, reaching to grab a napkin to wipe his mouth. "You know where it is?"

"Yes," Cas said with a nod. "I was the one who had taken it from your father." He frowned. "I'm sorry. I had thought that you'd be able to make that connection, considering that I had been the one to heal Dean, and the Colt had vanished at the same time."

"Yeah, because that's so obvious," Dean said dryly, then shook his head. "Why?"

"The gun was necessary to use against Azazel," Cas said. "My plan had been to kill him, so that Dean would once again have his soul back. Obviously it was unsuccessful."

"Well, no shit," Dean said, and frowned. It made sense, more or less. And Cas looked pretty sincere as he said it. Except he'd hesitated for just a little too long before he'd spoken. And also, why would an angel need the Colt? Dean didn't know much about their powers – or, well, he knew almost nothing, actually – but he was pretty sure that they had to have some sort of way to kill a demon besides needing to shoot it with the Colt.

Meaning that Cas was lying about something. Or, at least, there was definitely something that he wasn't saying.

Before Dean got the chance to say anything about that, though, Sam was already asking, "Okay, so, where did you stick the Colt?" Dean frowned, but decided that whatever Cas wasn't saying, Dean's let it go. For now, at least.

"Buried in a graveyard in Wyoming," Cas answered.

Dean blinked. "Okay," he said slowly. "Any particular reason for that, or did you just decide to stick it with the dead bodies for kicks?"

"No, there is an actual reason," Cas assured him. "I will explain it to you."

Dean nodded, but first, he stood and dropped his empty container into the trash. "Well, you should probably explain it on the road," Dean said. It was going to be a long trip to Wyoming, if that was apparently where they were heading next. Odds were that they wouldn't get there until that night, at the earliest – maybe not until the next day, depending on where exactly Cas was sending them. And Sam had already polished off his own breakfast of multigrain crap, and the look of disgust that Cas kept sending his eggs made Dean think that he wouldn't actually be eating anything any time soon, so they may as well get going.

Not to mention the little fact that Cas had escaped from the hospital yesterday, and people were gonna come looking for him soon. Not that Dean expected them to come searching through random motels, so it wasn't like anyone was actually going to find them here. But still, the sooner they got out of Illinois, the better.

The others nodded in agreement, and it only took a couple minutes to gather up their stuff. They still hadn't bought new duffels yet, so the three of them just gathered up armfuls of clothes and stuffed them into the back of the trunk. At some point, they'd have to worry about actually replacing their stuff – especially since Dean had lost some of his favorite shirts when they'd had to run, not that he would ever admit to actually having a favorite shirt – but for now, Dean figured that they could get by with what they had.

He did make a point of grabbing his leather jacket off the end of the bed, where Cas had thrown it the night before. He'd let Cas keep it the day before, but no way was Dean going to be that nice two days in a row.

He doubted that Cas cared, though. The guy made a beeline straight for the trunk of the Impala and grabbed his trench coat, pulling it on with this dopey smile on his face. He looked so happy that it was ridiculous, and Dean smirked at him, not that Cas seemed to notice.

Sam came out of the other motel room then. He was still wearing the same clothes he'd had on yesterday, so he didn't have anything to stick in the car, except for the couple of weapons that he'd grabbed to hide around his room. As he joined them at the car, he took one look between Cas and Dean, then rolled his eyes. "Keep looking at him like that and you're going to give yourself a cavity," he told Dean.

Dean immediately looked away, then scowled. "Shut up," he grumbled.

Sam just laughed, though Dean couldn't help but notice that he looked genuinely happy as he headed toward the driver's seat. He was relaxed in a way that he hadn't been in who-the-fuck-knows-how-long, and okay, that was reason enough for Dean to give him some slack about the comments.

Not good enough reason to let him drive again, though. "Okay, move your ass, Sammy," he said, giving his brother a shove away from the driver's seat. "My car, my driving," he added, reaching over to snag the keys from Sam's hands.

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Why, so that you can drive us straight into something that doesn't exist?" Immediately after he said it, his eyes locked on Dean's face, like he was searching for a sign that he had gone too far. Which was annoying as fuck, because Sam didn't usually bother with doing that, and it wasn't like Dean needed Sam to still be babying him.

He didn't mention it, though. Instead, he just snorted. "If you think there's any way in hell I'm going to risk putting a scratch on my baby, then you're stupider than I thought," he said, and elbowed Sam out of the way so that he could slide into his driver's seat, right where he belonged. Sam still looked doubtful, but Dean just rolled his eyes. "Come on, I'm good. I slept last night. I freakin' ate breakfast this morning, and I haven't seen your face get eaten off since yesterday afternoon. I'm not going to turn into an idiot and drive into a tree thinking it's a hellhound or something."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "So, you're saying that you would drive into an actual hellhound if you had the chance?" he asked. "Yeah, Dean, because that gives me so much confidence in your driving."

Dean shook his head. "Just stop being a bitch and get in the car," he said.

"You know," Cas suddenly said, stepping around to stand beside Dean, "I do think that Dean is right about his driving abilities. He does seem much better today than he had been yesterday."

"Ha," Dean said, grinning triumphantly at Sam. "You heard him. Two against one."

Sam rolled his eyes again, but he did circle around to the passenger seat. Dean definitely called that a victory in his book.

"No, no, no," Dean said, as Sam started to climb into the car. Sam paused, glancing at Dean, confused. "Cas can take the passenger seat today," he said. "You're stuck in the back."

Sam scowled. "Seriously, Dean," he asked, shaking his head.

"Yeah," Dean said, "because Cas is actually on my side. Driver's choice. Deal with it, bitch."

"Jerk," Sam shot back immediately, then added, "Sorry, Cas, but that's not happening."

"That is alright," Cas said, and smiled as he climbed into the back seat. "I actually prefer it back here, if that is alright with you."

Dean turned around in his seat to look at him. "Seriously?" he asked. Because it wasn't like the backseat was all that big. Sure, it wasn't tiny or anything, but he knew from experience that it got cramped during the long drives, and that was definitely what they were in for. Of course, it'd be even worse for Sam, since he was a frickin' giant, which was exactly why Dean was trying to stick him back there. Sam'd been way too kind and considerate to him over the past few days. And it'd been nice, sure, but honestly, it was starting to get a little creepy. Some big brother hazing was exactly what they needed to get things back to normal.

Cas, though, just nodded. "I like it like this," he said simply. "All three of us in our proper places. It's nice, isn't it?"

And despite everything, Dean found himself grinning back. "Yeah, I guess it is," he agreed, then turned back around. "Okay, Gigantor, I'll let you ride up front this time."

"Oh yeah, so nice of you," Sam said, voice heavy with sarcasm, as he climbed into his seat and slammed the door.

"Just be glad I'm not tying you up in the trunk," Dean threatened, then switched the car into the reverse and took off.

"You sure you're good to drive?" Sam asked a minute later, as Dean turned out onto the road. "I mean, they might not be affecting you right now, but you don't know when the hallucinations are going to come back, and if we're on the highway when it happens-"

"I'm sure," Dean said shortly.

And that would have been the end of it, except that at the same moment, Cas decided to open his big mouth and say, "We theorized that the hallucinations are a physical manifestation of Dean's fears, brought on by the effect that the Hellhounds have had on him. He seems perfectly happy now, so as long as nothing happens to cause him to become frightened, then we'll be fine."

"Cas," Dean growled under his breath. In the rearview mirror, he saw Cas glance toward him, frowning, his face covered in confusion.

"Was I not supposed to say that?" Cas said, and Dean jerked his head once in the semblance of a nod. Cas' frown deepened. "I'm sorry, Sam, please forget that information. I had forgotten that Dean was embarrassed by the fact that he feels fear just like everyone else."

"Cas," Dean snapped. This time, the guy got the hint and fell silent.

Sam had his head thrown back, laughing. "I'm amazed that you managed to keep so many secrets for this long, Cas," he said. "Honestly."

"People have told me that it is not my strongest suit," Cas agreed after a moment. "I think that I did an admirable job, though."

"Yeah, if something like that could be called admirable," Dean said.

They didn't add anything else after that, just drove down the road in silence. Dean was just about to reach over and turn on the radio when Sam looked over at him. "So," he said slowly. "Your fears, huh? I guess that makes sense, considering when the hallucinations seemed to hit you the worst."

Dean stiffened, and hunched his shoulders, not looking over at Sam. "And?" he asked.

Sam was definitely going to try to start some emotional conversation, about their deepest fears and inner demons and all that shit. Dean knew it. Especially with the touchy-feely, protect-Dean-like-he's-some-frickin'-baby mood that he'd been in ever since he'd found out that the hellhounds were on Dean's tail.

Then Dean felt Sam give him a light punch on the arm, and Sam said, "Good thing we haven't had to fly anywhere, then. God, Cas, you can't even imagine how much of a mess he'd be then."

"Shut up," Dean snapped, reaching over to give Sam a punch back, just a little harder than Sam had hit him. Sam blocked it easily, and laughed, and Dean could feel the tension draining from his shoulders. Okay, so Sam was back to being the obnoxious baby brother that Dean was going to have to beat up as soon as he'd pulled the car to a stop. That was exactly what they were supposed to be.

"You know, we should swing by and visit Missouri Moseley again," Sam added after a moment, and just from the tone of his voice, Dean could imagine the smug little grin on his face. "I swear, last time we saw her, she nearly made Dean shit his pants. I've never seen him look more intimidated. Pretty sure that that would be the best way to really get him terrified."

Cas leaned forward, so that his head was between Dean and Sam's seats. "I don't understand," Cas said, looking over at Sam. "Why would you want Dean's hallucinations to return?"

"Because he's a piece of shit, that's why," Dean said, before Sam got the chance to answer. He glanced over at Sam. "I'm seriously going to kick your ass as soon as we're out of this car."

Sam just crossed his arms. "You can try."

Dean would've made a snappy retort, but the motion had made him notice something. The lines that Cas had drawn across Sam's hand the day before were still there, but starting to fade, just slightly. They'd probably still last for another day or so, and they could always redraw them, but still, if these were the only things keeping them away from the angels, then they'd have to stay on top of them.

"We should go find a tattoo parlor," Dean said, making Sam and Cas frown at him like he was crazy. Dean tapped his own arm to show what he meant. The sigils were covered by his jacket, but still, he thought that they'd get what he meant. "Make sure the angels don't track us down just because he forgot to redraw some lines. Seems like too big of a risk to leave them as temporary."

Sam glanced down at his own hand, and nodded. "Yeah, that's a good point," he said, then glanced over at Dean. "You think we should find a place now?"

Dean shook his head. "Not in this town," he said. Because seriously, the farther that they were from the people who might recognize Cas as the coma guy, the better. "Maybe in an hour or so. We can just find a city and drive 'til we see a place that looks decent." Or a place that didn't look decent – it's not like they'd ever been picky. Though Dean'd really rather get his tattoo from someplace that wasn't going to give him some wicked infection afterward, so they'd better find a place at least somewhat decent.

"I would like to get the anti-possession symbol tattooed as well," Cas added after a moment. "With my diminished grace, I'm not sure if demons would be able to possess my vessel or not, but I would like to be safe, regardless."

"Well, okay, sounds like a plan, then," Dean said, and grinned over at Sam and Cas. "Let's go get ourselves all inked up and pretty."

Dean perched on a stool over to the side of the shop, fidgeting in his seat and trying not to pick at the bandage now wrapped around his left arm. They'd managed to find a tattoo parlor about an hour's drive from that motel, a tiny place that looked like it didn't see all that much business, but was clean enough that Dean figured they could trust it. There were only two artists in the shop when they got there, meaning that they'd had to take turns. Dean had already gotten his done – and he had to say, it looked pretty badass, with the way that the sigils wrapped around his bicep, he'd always kinda wanted something like that – so now he had nothing to do but wait while Sam took his turn with the same artist, eyes closed as the symbols were drawn across his shoulder blades.

The other artist, meanwhile, had finished up with inking the angel sigils onto Cas' stomach, and had set to work on the anti-possession tattoo, drawing it on the left side of Cas' chest, in the exact same spot where Dean and Sam had theirs.

Meaning that Cas was currently lying shirtless in the chair, and okay, that definitely gave Dean something to do while he waited. And the way that Cas had caught Dean's eyes and smiled made Dean think that Cas was perfectly okay with the staring. Still, though, that didn't stop Dean from fidgeting. It wasn't his fault or anything – more like he just couldn't keep himself still. And if he were being honest, he'd say that he knew why.

It was something that'd been bugging him for days, gnawing at the back of his mind. Except, well, he'd been able to keep it back there, out of his immediate thoughts, telling himself that there wasn't time for this, not with all of the important shit that was going down. Now, though, he was pretty sure that that excuse was gone. And it was driving him crazy.

Finally, he stood and jumped off the stool, heading out the back door. He felt both Sam and Cas' eyes on him as he went, but neither of them moved – not that they really could, considering that they were still only halfway through getting their tattoos done. Good. That meant that Dean would have some time.

There was nobody around the back of the shop – not that he was surprised. It looked about ten times shadier back here than it had up front, but it'd suit Dean's purpose. He took a deep breath, then pulled the phone out of his pocket and dialed the number from memory.

It rang again and again, with no sign that it was ever going to be answered. Dean frowned. Honestly, in hindsight, he hadn't known why he'd expected Dad to pick up the phone, considering all the times that he hadn't.

Except that Dad had been calling him and Sam nonstop for the past few days. That had to mean that he wanted something from them, right? Dean couldn't imagine that Dad would call them up that much, and then not be interested in talking to them when Dean finally returned the call.

The call finally went over to voicemail. Dean listened to his dad's message, then took another long breath, trying to decide what he was going to say.

Then they beep sounded, and he still hadn't decided what to say, but that was too bad, because now he had to start talking whether he wanted to or not.

"Hey, Dad," Dean said slowly. "Sorry I didn't pick up. There's been a lot going on in the past few days. Cas was-" He paused, then shook his head. "Never mind, it doesn't really matter. But we're good now. The three of us are heading to Wyoming – we have a lead that we're going to go check out. So, yeah. You can call back if you want to talk. I'll make sure to answer this time."

He hung up the phone, and for a minute, he didn't move. Just stared down at his phone, like he was expecting Dad to call him back immediately, to apologize and say that he'd barely missed Dean's call, but he was ready to talk now.

It didn't happen. Of course it didn't. Dean was being an idiot even thinking about it.

Dean nodded once to himself, then shoved the phone into his back pocket and took off, walking away from the tattoo parlor as fast as he could.

Five minutes later, he returned, carrying a bottle of coke that he'd bought from the convenience store down the road.

"What?" he asked, in response to the look that Sam gave him. "I was thirsty, so shoot me. You want one, you can go and get your own."

Sam rolled his eyes, but Dean could see the last traces of suspicion disappear. Sam didn't have a single reason to think that Dean leaving had been for any reason but this one.

Dean took a long swig of his drink, and reached down to pat one hand against his phone. It was stupid. There was no reason to keep it a secret. Sam might not be so happy about Dean wanting to call their dad, but he wouldn't argue, anyway. At least, Dean didn't think he would. Still, though, Dean just didn't want to tell him. Some habits died hard, he guessed.