Here is the antidote to the terrible cliffhanger I cruelly left you guys with last time! I've avoided that this chapter, don't worry. And this one has some quality time with Sammy, which we all love.
I hope that you guys are all OK after all the terrible bombings that have been going on, first in Turkey and now in Iraq. These people are seriously sick and I'm so sorry to all the Muslims out there whose Ramadans have ended so horribly because of these events. I'd like everyone reading this story to please, please resist the ideas spread by these terrorists and the Islamophobic sections of the media and politics (ahem, Trump). Ordinary Muslims are the people who suffer the most because of these extremists who masquerade as devout followers of Islam. They are in fact following a sad travesty, of a religion no better or worse than any other. Don't allow hate and fear to eclipse logic and compassion.
ANYWAY... enjoy this chapter and please review :)

"Um," Dean says hoarsely. I keep my wide, unblinking eyes fixed on him, feeling increasingly impatient. "Uh, well, I don't... I mean, I..."

"Dean," I say sharply, urgently. He startles and the word seems to fall from his lips almost by accident, shocking him as much as me.

"Yes."

His reply echoes in the air loudly for several long seconds, wrapping around me and thrumming in my ears. I stare wide-eyed at Dean, who looks fairly terrified and very much like he's lost control of the situation and is searching for a lifeline. Still, he's not scrambling to retract his pronouncement and he's staring straight back at me, no avoidance in his anxious gaze.

Oddly, I feel no overwhelming desire to throw myself into his arms or crow with triumph. I mostly feel reeling shock, overlaying a distant sense of excitement and a fond sort of sympathy for poor Dean, who has utterly surpassed himself in the last twenty four hours. I've never seen him this emotionally exposed for so long, in all the years I've known him. I should probably be the one to stay calm here.

"That's good," I eventually say very quietly, my gaze steady and my smile small but sure. "Dean, that's... I'm very happy to hear it."

Another drawn out silence makes it difficult for me not to fidget, but I'm getting better and better at controlling my human tics. Dean swallows, blinks, swallows again before managing a reply: "Uh huh."

"I know that this is no small matter, ever, but especially for... us," I venture, attempting to prompt a slightly more eloquent response from him. He twitches and I stop, trying to gauge his panic level. I continue cautiously. "I don't want you to feel overwhelmed."

Dean gives a small, incredulous, high pitched huff that might be laughter, finally shutting his wide eyes. "Overwhelmed. Yeah."

"Well, I often find human emotion overwhelming," I shrug. "Anyway, Dean, what I said last night is still the most relevant thing for you to keep in mind. I'm still here for you just as I always was. We will only change as and how you want us to."

"Yep."

"And-"

"Cas," Dean interrupts, eyes opening and fixing me with a pleading stare. "I know you like to talk about stuff. But I'm sorta freaking out a bit. No offence, and please don't think that I'm trying to take anything back or push you away or whatever, but could you just leave me alone for a few hours? I need to, I dunno, go for a drive or something."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Don't get drunk."

Dean frowns back at me. "I can if I want."

"Yes, but it's not a healthy way of dealing with stress and it's dangerous if you're planning on driving so-"

"Oh my God," Dean groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You are already nagging me."

"I say this as your concerned friend, Dean."

"Yeah, whatever, fine. I'll stick to the root beer. Happy?"

Smiling widely, I nod. "Very. I'll see you at dinner?"

Dean relaxes a little. "Yeah, unless Charlie sends the footage through today, which is unlikely. I'll text you if she does."

"OK."

There's a pause as I briefly wonder if I should just leave the room or if there's some etiquette to follow once a romantic relationship has been established. Dean looks anxious too, rocking back and forth on his feet, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck. Shrugging, I make to walk past him, quite content to allow him the time and space he clearly needs to process the situation. My eyes are trained on the door so I don't notice his hand shoot out until it's wrapped around my wrist, tugging me to a halt. I glance down at it in confusion and then look up at Dean, who's gazing at me with enormous eyes.

"Um," he says as though it's an explanation for his action. I furrow my brow at him.

"Yes?"

He licks his lips nervously and his darting green eyes fixate on my own mouth. I tilt my head as I step backwards a pace and turn to face him, trying to work out what he's trying to communicate.

"Dean-"

All at once, he surges forward and kisses me slightly clumsily, his free hand cupping my jaw and his other fingers squeezing my wrist tightly. I make an odd squeaking noise, staying very still. Dean pauses too, lips pressed to mine for several warm seconds before he breaks away. He's blushing fiercely. He gives a defensive sort of shrug, dropping his hands hastily. I gaze at him, mouth slightly open, until he scowls at me.

"Well, are you leaving or not?"

Startled, I chuckle breathlessly. "Yes. Yes, sorry."

Giving him one last smile, I go to the door and pull it open. I don't look back as I close it but I call back over my shoulder: "See you later!"

Dean's muttered reply is cut off by the door closing. I stand in the empty hallway for a good ten seconds, eyes locked dazedly onto the opposite wall.

Dean Winchester and I are a couple.

I blink and turn to walk towards the kitchen. I repeat the words in my head, over and over, fingers twitching at my sides, skin buzzing. I don't realise that I'm grinning until my jaw starts to ache from the strain. I turn into the kitchen and come to an abrupt halt as I see Sam seated at the table, reading the newspaper. He glances up at me and I know that I should be thinking about the angel possessing him and the danger that he could be in, but I'm entirely distracted by the fact that I'm romantically involved with his brother... and he doesn't know. Should he know? I want him to know. Sam is my friend, my family. But what if Dean wants to be the one to tell him? I should just not mention it yet.

"Cas," says Sam slowly, eyes speculative. "Hey, man."

"Hey," I manage to croak, sidling into the room. Sam smirks.

"So... are you dating my brother yet?"

Shit. My mouth drops open and I gape stupidly before snapping it shut with a feeling of defeat. I tried.

"Oh. Well, actually, since you mention it... yes."

Sam's eyebrows shoot up but his smile only grows. "Really?"

I nod enthusiastically. "I think so. Perhaps 'dating' isn't the right term but he did confirm that he and I are a romantic couple now, although I'm not sure what the parameters of that definition are in this case."

Sam chuckles, leaning back in his chair, tossing the newspaper onto the table. "Good for him! I told him to stop dicking around and just be with you, but he seemed pretty unsure last night. Must've slept on it and come to his senses."

I laugh breathlessly. "Yeah, yeah, he must have done. It's just... Sam, things have changed so fast. Is it normal to feel this odd after a relationship shifts suddenly? I feel very odd."

Sam gestures for me to sit down and I do so, interlocking my fingers on the table in front of me and staring blankly at them. The younger Winchester gets up, moves around the room for half a minute and then a tumbler of amber liquid is placed in front of me.

"Drink this, calm down."

I eye the whiskey doubtfully. "I told Dean not to get drunk."

"Of course you did. This won't get you drunk, it'll just mellow you out a little. Come on, trust me. I don't usually prescribe alcohol but you look like you might actually pass out."

I hesitate before shrugging and picking up the whiskey, gulping down a large mouthful and promptly spluttering on the harsh drink. Sam pounds me painfully on the back, laughing merrily as though this is some awful rite of passage. I scowl at him.

"Did you make Dean drink this last night too? It's revolting."

Sam snorts, shaking his shaggy head. "I'd never have to 'make' Dean drink this, he breathes the stuff. And no, although he probably could have used it. He told you he came and spoke to me?"

I nod. "He wanted advice from you. About emotions and relationships and such."

"Yeah. I have no idea why, my track record with this stuff is even worse than his."

"He deeply values your opinion, Sam. As do I."

Sam smiles, shrugging in a characteristically modest way, and gestures for me to have some more of my drink. I take a tiny, cautious sip and it's far better this time, a liquid heat warming my tongue and throat. I tilt the glass, watching the light filter through the whiskey. When I speak my voice is hushed and helpless.

"What do I do now?"

The man beside me sighs. "Honestly? All bets are off. I can normally predict Dean's actions pretty well but this is new for him. You're changing him, Cas."

I shake my head, sitting up straighter and frowning. "I don't want to change Dean."

"These are good changes. Ones that need to happen. Ones that happen for most people in like, their twenties. But Dean isn't most people."

I nod slowly as I take another sip of drink. Sam pauses before speaking again.

"I guess my advice would be not to give Dean too much space. I assume he told you to give him space? Yeah. Problem is, he'll get scared if he's left to think it through too much. Don't push him hard, but for sure keep pushing. He won't get there on his own."

"But I don't know how to push. I don't know how humans do this whole relationship thing. What am I even supposed to be doing? Wooing him? Seducing him?"

Sam grimaces. "Ugh. I guess so? Be gentle, but yeah, that stuff."

I gulp down the remainder of my alcohol, grateful for the pleasant numbing edge it gives my mind. "I have no idea where to start. The only thing that occurs to me is your story about Jess and the jukebox."

With a surprised chuckle, Sam shrugs and nods. "OK, so do that."

"Just play a song he likes?" I say doubtfully. "It's that simple?"

"No, it's not that simple, Cas. This shit never is. But it's a fair start. Grab some beers or whatever, invite Dean to your room for a drink and a chat, put his music on, flirt a bit and even Dean will catch on that it's a date."

I nod reluctantly. "I suppose that does sound quite straightforward, and not too potentially embarrassing. Alright, I can do this. Which songs should I pick?"

"Anything from his favourite mix tape he always has in the Impala," says Sam promptly. "Give me your phone and I'll download the songs, I know the track listing by heart since I've been listening to the damn thing for centuries."

I screw up my face in puzzlement as I take out my phone. "Sam, that's not-"

"Hyperbole," Sam cuts me off with an eye roll. I nod sheepishly.

"Ah, of course. Well, thank you. That will be very helpful." I pause, emotion welling up unexpectedly and prompting me to continue speaking. "I'd like to express my gratitude for a lot of things, actually. For taking me in after I fell, helping me to adjust and teaching me so much. And for accepting and supporting the changes to my relationship with Dean. It would have been quite understandable for you to be doubtful and protective, especially given your own closeness with him."

Sam is blushing a little, shrugging bashfully as he peers down at my phone. "Nah, come on, I'm not an idiot. I can see how good you are for Dean. How well you fit together. I just want my brother to be happy, Cas, and you're a pretty big part of that. And I want it for you too."

He stops at this point, eyes widening in alarm as he looks up and sees the tears threatening to spill down my cheeks.

"Thank you, Sam," I whisper, my voice choked. He looks me up and down before snorting in disbelief.

"Holy crap, you are actually a little bit drunk," he chuckles. "Who knew you'd be a total lightweight? I guess Jimmy Novak couldn't hold his whiskey either."

"I do feel somewhat affected by that drink, yes."

"Oh, man. You're even worse than Kevin, and he's barely past puberty."

I frown into my empty glass. "I suppose this is preferable to needing an entire liquor store to get inebriated."

"Yeah, true. Oh, hey, this is done. Just play any of these."

Sam hands me back my phone and I glance into his eyes as I thank him, wondering briefly what Ezekiel makes of all this. In the past I've been mostly unaffected by the scorn and sometimes disgust with which many of my kin have regarded my love for Dean. They simply didn't understand. But Ezekiel has been living with us, watching every move that Sam makes, seeing humanity up close. Maybe he can learn something, as I did.

I decide abruptly that if Ezekiel really was protecting or helping Sam that night at the bar, rather than betraying our trust, then I will try my hardest to build a friendship with him. He's a fallen angel and I know better than anyone how hard that is. But more than that, despite everything, he is still my brother. I need to believe that I can still mend what's broken between myself and my angelic family.

"You gonna be OK?" Sam asks lightly, unaware of my thoughts. I smile warmly at him.

"I hope so."