Hunters are the brightest and best, hand-picked by Odin in this life to fight the Dark Forces of the Supernatural. They are kind, loyal, tenacious and caring. But it is to their detriment. It is always to their detriment. I urge you, however, to not lose faith that one day you may find happiness. I had given up all hope until I found my beloved Muriel. My life has been one of loss since my youngest memories, and yet I still cling to the happiness that Muriel has brought to my life. If you do not answer the call of the Hounds, if you do not Hunt with the sky riders, you will find completeness. Your love will be an Anchor to keep you from drifting.

Castiel puttered around Dean's house as Dean was out taking care of a Skinwalker with one of his friends, a man called Bobby who had come in during breakfast and interrogated Castiel more thoroughly in five minutes than most people had in five years. Castiel answered a series of rapid-fire questions from the older man well at first, but when Bobby asked if he'd ever had a boyfriend or girlfriend, Castiel started getting tongue tied. Dean had stepped in, though it was clear he wanted to know the answer, too, and Bobby had changed tactics, asking about college, parents, his work, his boss, his neighbors, whether he'd heard from Charlie and, surprisingly, bringing up the weather.

"Fine morning, though," Bobby had said, his non-sequitur making Castiel blink in confusion as he looked out the frilly red curtains Dean kept at the window over the sink.

Castiel had barely managed to stutter out an affirmative answer (what do you say to that, exactly? "Yes, Bobby, it is a fine day today, but if it were snowing or raining, I'd think it was fine as well.") before Dean hauled Bobby out of the house, both of them with pieces of toast in one hand and a travel mug of the thick, nearly burnt brew Dean called coffee in the other.

"Just call me if you need any help!" Dean had said over his shoulder.

Now Castiel was left to his own devices, and even though there was about six hours' worth of television saved on Dean's DVR, he found himself searching over the house instead.

If he hadn't liked Dean, if he had merely been attracted and not cared, he might ignore anything personal about the man. Goodness knew Castiel had been on both the receiving and giving ends of hasty hookups at clubs and parties during his college days, never caring about the mouth he was thrusting into, or the dick he was sucking down. Dean was so different, though. He wanted to know what made him tick, what turned him on, what he liked to do in his downtime, about his brothers and his friends, and anything else that might be significant.

He started in the largest room, a sort of informal living room. It was all hardwood floors and faded, yellowed once-white paint and darker wood accents on the walls. There was a big, red brick fireplace against one wall and a huge picture window against another. One of the sofas was dingy white with little red and pink roses printed on it, the sort of sofa that had a wooden frame and stood up on wooden legs. It was plush and comfy, however. Still, Castiel couldn't help but think that Dean did not pick out this sofa. His mother, perhaps? It looked to be an older piece, like most of the furniture in the room. It was another mystery. Why would manly Dean Winchester have such a feminine piece of furniture?

He went to the mantel and found framed pictures in plenty, the sofa featured prominently in a few that showed three young boys on Christmas morning and a strikingly beautiful blonde and a handsome man. Castiel recognized Dean, Sam and Adam from when they were children.

There was a picture of Sam with a beautiful woman, Jess presumably, Adam with a graduation cap, Bobby with Ellen and Jo, and a few other people that Castiel didn't recognize.

In a bookcase, he found Vonnegut, Kafka, Rowling, various reference books on mythology, cookbooks that looked well used and dusted with flour, and then at the bottom, a photo album. Curious, Castiel sat down on the floor and opened the album. The very first page was an 8X10 photo of an incredibly handsome closely-cropped man with dark eyes, warm brown skin and a well-trimmed goatee. He was striking, and Castiel stared at his face for a good minute, just appreciating how handsome he was. His smile was open and friendly and his eyes were warm and kind. Castiel didn't know who he was, but he felt that he might like him.

The second page decided him that he didn't like this man at all. The second page was a picture of Dean and this man. Dean was clearly holding the camera at arm's length, taking the picture himself. The unknown man had one hand on Dean's shoulder, and the other hand was under Dean's arm, crossed over his chest, holding him tight. They looked happy. Jealousy bloomed in Castiel's chest as he looked at other pictures of Dean and this man. Hugging, kissing, smiling, looking happier than he'd ever seen Dean.

And it wasn't just Dean who seemed to love this man. There were pictures of him with Sam and Adam too. The man kissed Ellen on the cheek, and she smiled and just let him. Castiel didn't think Ellen would let just anyone kiss her cheek. The clincher was a strip from a photobooth. Both Dean and the man were huddled inside, and Dean was obviously sitting on the man's lap. They laughed at the camera, they kissed, touched foreheads, and then just smiled happily in the last frame.

The next page was a pamphlet from a funeral. The man's face was in a small square at the top, his name listed as Victor Edgar Henriksen. He had been only twenty-nine when he died six years ago, making Dean somewhere around twenty-one or twenty-two at the time. Castiel wanted to know how long he dated this man, where he met him, how much he loved him, and whether…

Castiel put the book away and pulling his knees to his chest, dropped his head down and covered the back of his neck with his hands. He didn't want to think of Victor with Dean, or anyone else with him for that matter. Dean had loved this man, there was just no way to fake the way he had looked at him. Victor was handsome and had beautiful broad shoulders and was so much better looking than Castiel. How could he have ever thought he would have a chance with someone like Dean?

And this man was liked by Dean's family. Bobby, Ellen, Adam, Sam and Jo were all pictured with him, all clearly comfortable with him, all loving him. Sure, they had been welcoming to Castiel, but…

He stood and stalked through the room. Why had he snooped? Why couldn't he have left well enough alone? He had been sure that Dean liked him, but now he was plagued by self-doubt and insecurity. Maybe Dean hadn't been keeping him at arm's length because he was afraid. Maybe he just wasn't that into him. Maybe everything that had transpired between the two of them was in his imagination. He had let himself get carried away with a fantasy, and Dean probably didn't feel anything for him.

His phone rang and he was surprised to find Sam on the other end.

"Hey, Cas, Dean told me he was gone on a Hunt today, and I thought you and I might get lunch together?"

Castiel looked down at the bookshelf where the photo album was. "Um, thank you, Sam. That would be nice."

"Great!" Sam said enthusiastically. "Can we meet at the Oakhurst Diner on Second at about Twelve-Fifteen?"

"Sure," Castiel said, his mood lifting a little. "This is very kind of you, Sam."

}O{

It was the same diner Dean and Castiel had gone to the day before with Balthazar and Lucifer, and the same waitress took their order too.

"Thank you for asking me to lunch," Castiel said formally when they were alone.

Sam smiled. "Don't be so stiff, Cas. I'm here if you need me, and I'd like to know you better. Especially if you're going to be around for a while."

Castiel played with his silverware. "Dean has agreed to help only through my Awakening," he said. "After that, I may never see you again."

Sam gave him a kind smile. "I'm sure you'll be around a lot longer than that."

Castiel gulped and studied the menu, unsure of how to answer.

Sam put his finger on Castiel's menu and lowered it a bit. "Cas, I know Dean sucks at this stuff, but he likes you."

Castiel looked deep in Sam's eyes, which were half brown and half green right now, and narrowed his own. "You had a dream about me, didn't you?"

Sam laughed, but didn't deny it. "I'm glad Dean told you about that, by the way. He told me he had, and I was proud of him. To answer your question, I had a dream that you and I were here, and I was telling you that Dean is very interested in you, and you thought that maybe you weren't good enough for him."

Castiel gave a rueful chuckle. "But Sam, I…"

Sam stopped him. "Look, this is between you and Dean. All I can tell you is that he is obviously into you." He pulled out his phone and showed Castiel a picture of them from two nights prior, when they were snuggled together at The Roadhouse. Dean was staring down at him with such affection in his eyes that Castiel felt a little overwhelmed.

"So, so it's not…"

"It's not in your imagination," Sam said with a smile. "I told you that in my dream. I like you, Castiel. I think you could be good for Dean. As his brother, that's mostly what concerns me, but I honestly think he could be good for you, too. I want you around."

Castiel felt overwhelmed again. "It's as simple as that?"

"It can be," Sam promised.

}O{

Dean hadn't wanted to leave Castiel behind that morning, but he also didn't want him turning vengeful, so it was really no contest what he'd have to do. He did invite Castiel to read any of his books he wanted, though, or to do anything else he might enjoy.

Bobby had been a trip, as usual, drilling Castiel like a detective with a murder suspect. Dean had sat by passively for part of it, watching to see how Castiel reacted. When it was clear that the Angel was only mildly put-off by the old Hunter, answering all of his questions kindly until Bobby got too personal. Dean stepped in then, reminding Bobby that he wasn't privy to all aspects of Castiel's life.

Bobby hadn't been upset with Dean for stepping in. On the contrary, he was happy that Dean stood up for Castiel. Didn't stop him from calling Dean an "idjit" the minute they got in the car, though.

Dean had smiled at that, knowing full well that Bobby was being complimentary, and that Castiel had passed his tests. He liked that his family seemed to like Castiel. They had never liked Benny, and while they had liked Victor in the beginning, particularly because he had helped Dean turn his life around, they had been unhappy with him towards the end when all the fighting started.

"So, wanna tell me why ya ain't bringin' lover boy along?" Bobby grumbled when they started out.

"According to Lucifer—yes, the Lucifer—and Balthazar, if Castiel comes into his full powers before he Awakens completely, he'll go Avenging Angel on the world."

"Like Matt Damon in Dogma?"

Dean snorted. "Yeah, only according to them, not nearly so cuddly."

Bobby raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. The ride to the area where the Skinwalker was terrorizing was relatively quiet. Dean and Bobby tended to talk about only important things, like how much ammunition and scotch might be left. Sam was the one who would have brought up Dean's feelings about Castiel, so Sam wasn't exactly surprised to find texts from Sam when he got to his destination, regarding those very feelings.

Hey jerk, I'm taking Cas out for lunch.

Dean smiled at the message. At least he knew Castiel wouldn't be lonely for the afternoon.

Good. Now leave me alone. Hunting something. Bitch.

Dean tucked his phone away and started stalking the Skinwalker.

For the most part, Hunters would leave the Supernatural alone, but if the creatures started hurting people, Hunters were compelled to eradicate the threat. The Skinwalker Dean and Bobby were looking for had been taking the forms of various men throughout the town and raping women. Dean was upset that four women had been violated so far, and that he hadn't cottoned on sooner. He had always possessed a strong sense of responsibility for the people in his region, but he didn't feel that he was being unduly hard on himself this time. He should have known what this was after the first, and certainly after the second. Once he had killed the Skinwalker, he was going to go over his research and figure out what he had done wrong, how he had missed it.

"I know what you're thinkin', boy," Bobby said. "You gotta let this go. You ain't the world's big brother."

Dean sighed, spying a small bit of goo that was probably skin at one point. He crouched down and touched it, confirming the skin of a Skinwalker. "We're on the right track," he muttered.

Bobby gave him the look that he reserved for times when Dean was being stupid, but Bobby didn't really want to have to talk about feelings, so he would let it go for now.

They made their way slowly to an abandoned house, then found themselves in the basement. There seemed to be some sort of catacomb that they followed, the stink helping them along as much as the trail of rotting bones and discarded skin.

When they found the nest, Bobby let out a loud growl. "Bah, do these sonsabitches have to make everything smell like rotting meat?" he groused.

Dean laughed. "Well, some animals pee on everything to mark their territory. Maybe that's how these guys work too."

Thankfully that was enough to pull the Skinwalker from its hiding place, and soon Dean had his arms full of slimy, shifting monster.

"Don't hug it, stab it!" Bobby admonished.

Dean managed to push the creature away from him with his forearm. "I'm trying!"

Bobby rolled his eyes and stabbed it from behind. The creature collapsed slimily against Dean and he managed to roll it off, not pleased with the detached flesh that decided to stay on him.

"Man, this is my favorite flannel!" Dean groused, wiping off a bit and making a face.

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Yeah. It makes such a huge difference to that shirt."

Dean grimaced at him, but when they lit the fire to burn the remains of the Skinwalker, he threw his shirt down with it, letting it go. He'd never want to wear it again after it was covered in decaying slime.

"Lucky we caught it in a molt," Bobby murmured.

Dean agreed. "Nice to know you still have my back, though," he said with a smile. "Save my bacon and make me feel like crap at the same time."

"Suck it up, Buttercup. Did I hurt your feelings?"

Dean laughed. "No, I just like messing with you."

"Idjit."

They let the fire burn out, then made their way back to the Impala. Dean checked his messages and found more from Sam.

Dude, you need to talk to Cas about…wait for it…feelings.

Seriously, man, he needs to know you want him.

Before you ask, yes I had a Dream last night.

Dean, you can't lose him. He's your anchor. I know he is.

Dean sighed.

I thought I was the gay one around here?

Funny. You're so funny. But I'm serious, Dean.

What do you want me to tell him, exactly? I can't take away his free will, I won't be like that Michael jerk.

You can tell him you like him and want to be with him without forcing him to do anything. He has a right to know.

Yeah, okay. What'd you see, anyway?

I can't tell you. You and Bobby coming to The Roadhouse?

Yeah. We're about two hours out.

Okay. See you there. And you are a jerk.

Bitch.

"That Sam?"

"Yeah. He's at The Roadhouse. I told him we'd meet him there."

"You sure you don't wanna get cleaned up a bit first for loverboy?"

Dean looked down at the mess on his T-shirt. "I guess I should change," he conceded to Bobby's studious avoidance of a proper response.

After dropping Bobby off (how did he manage to stay clean, exactly? Oh, right, by letting Dean do all the dirty work), Dean went back to his house to just pull on a new shirt quickly. Being slightly OCD, however, he noticed right away all the little things that Castiel had moved around and tried to put back in the same spot. What drew his eye the most, though, was the small line of disturbed dust where Castiel had pulled out Victor's photo album. He went into the living room and knelt down, pushing his finger over the spotless surface.

So Castiel knew about Victor now.

Dean panicked just a bit, wondering what Castiel thought or if Castiel thought, and why was he feeling guilty when he was more than allowed to have a romantic past? Dean knew he usually reacted the wrong way, so he was trying to tamp down his annoyance. All he wanted to do was stalk up to Castiel and tell him that his past was none of his business, and that Dean didn't care how many people Castiel had slept with, and how many people Dean had slept with shouldn't matter either, except…

Well, shit. Except that he did care. He did care who had touched Castiel in the past, and if he loved that person, if he still wanted him or her, and how long they had been together. It mattered to him, dammit. It mattered.

So, he was going to have to explain Victor to Cas.

How did he explain Victor to Cas when he didn't always understand Victor himself?

He pulled out his phone and sent another text to Sam.

Okay, tell me how to talk to Cas about my feelings.

You open your mouth and you tell him how you feel. Obviously.

And what do I tell him about Victor?

Hey, Cas, I used to love this jerk named Victor. We broke up and then he died. It was sad. Wanna gross everyone out with our food porn again?

I hate you.

I know.

I am Han Solo in our relationship. You are Leia.

Whatever you have to tell yourself. Are you coming by or what?

Dean pocketed his phone and decided it was time to face the music. He would tell Cas about Victor. He could do this.

Um...slow build is slow? It felt like a good place to end the chapter. We'll get more soon. The next chapter is coming along well.