FINALLY FINISHED THIS CHAPTER! I'm so sorry it took forever. I swear I only had 1/3 of it left and I couldn't figure out how to write for some reason. Either way! Here it is! And, it's around 3,400 words to apologize for the delay.

This chapter is more for character development than anything~ Hope you don't mind.

Remember: " xxx " means POV change while " ... " means time skip.

Fave if you like and review to let me know what you think!

Chapter 10: Change

It was a frustrating day for me—from not finding any leads at the old base to Dean and Sam assigning me a mission to spy on Crowley. I didn't know why I was so stressed out with the fact that I'd be giving the duo information on an actual thief who deserved to be in prison. I reasoned that it was because I helped Crowley with the museum steal, meaning that if Crowley got caught, I'd get caught, too, and my whole world would go upside down—but I wasn't too sure about that.

I never hated Crowley, even at the beginning when I realized he sort of screwed me over. He was genuinely a nice person to me… Just, well, doing things against the law. He sometimes said strange things and gave me the weirdest nicknames, but I don't know; he wasn't too bad. And those thoughts were the ones that scared me the most; not to mention that I also made acquaintances with yet another thief.

By the time I got home from the small meeting, I was a nervous wreck. Crowley had, of course, called me to see how things went, and I couldn't believe that I felt bad for lying to him about me given the job to spy on him. I realized that I couldn't bring anything to light that involved me, though, so I figured I probably wouldn't have much to report back to Sam and Dean. Feeling relief from that fact made me all the more nervous, though. I hated going through gray areas, because the law is mostly black-and-white.

All of my purposes were jumbled, and I wasn't entirely sure what I was after. Was I after Bela? Was I trying to get Crowley arrested? Why would I go over to his place just so he can chit-chat and show me his most favorite movies? It was quite frustrating, I have to say, and being home didn't help me calm down at all.

Before I knew it, two weeks had passed by with nothing eventful happening: Crowley, Meg and I hadn't found any leads after visiting the place multiple times, work was the usual, and Dean and Sam went about their merry way searching for more clues on the museum theft, even though Dean was more concerned with Crowley.

"So, have you been able to get any information from Crowley?" he asked me one day when I was on the job in the office.

"I already told you last night that I have not," I replied with a sigh as I stopped focusing on my computer and faced him.

"I don't know, you got some information overnight a few weeks ago; I was just checking just in case," he replied with a bit of a sarcastic smile. I rolled my eyes, already used to the way Dean talked to me. Thankfully his brother was a lot nicer and kept Dean in line for the most part.

"Hey, that's fine. I guess that's good news, anyway, right? No news for two weeks may be telling us that Bela is our man—er, woman," Sam interjected. I nodded right away, wanting them to stop poking into Crowley's business so much.

"That's what I've been saying," I replied, "I think we're facing in the wrong direction." I took off my cap and placed it on my desk, running a hand through my hair. Dean sighed in response, but he seemed to lean more towards agreeing with me. I gave a small sigh and smiled at the two of them.

"All right, well. I think it's been too much work and no fun. Whaddaya say we go do something?" Dean asked Sam but then looked at me. "You, too. You work too much. You're going to get gray hairs before you turn thirty-five," he added with a wink.

"I—I'm still here on a shift for…" I paused and looked at my watch, "Two more hours."

"No worries! We can go get some grub then. There's a diner around here that I've been itching to try out. Looks like they have amazing burgers. We can then find something non-work-related to do. How 'bout it?" he said as he put his hands in his pockets.

I was genuinely surprised that he was inviting me to do something with them—it did make me nervous, though. It was already hard enough working with them, so I could only imagine how being casual would be. Not wanting to be rude, and thinking that maybe this would get me on Dean's good side, I agreed.

"Cool," Sam smiled and put a hand on Dean's shoulder, "Now, let's not bother him any longer. He's still at work. C'mon, Dean." He dragged Dean away before anything else could be said. I waved at them, glad that I could bask in my nervous state alone.

…

Once I was done with my shift, I went home and decided to take a quick shower to calm my nerves before leaving. I wanted to slap myself for feeling so nervous, but I honestly hadn't gone out to be social with anyone else other than Crowley and sometimes Meg—but always with Crowley. The Winchesters were in with the law, and I had to make sure that my casual ways with the two thieves would not pollute anything in my conversations with Sam and Dean.

After getting out of the shower and looking over my clothes in the closet, my phone started to ring. I ran over to the phone—which I left lying on the bed—grunting as I held the towel around my waist. Crowley's name was lit up on the screen, causing me to hold my breath for a second. Forcefully letting out a few breaths, I picked up the phone and tried to answer it as casually as possible—though that is quite impossible for me, even on a good day.

"Hey, Crowley."

"'Ello, love. You off of work?" Crowley's voice sounded from the other line.

"Oh—uh, y-yeah. Just got home recently, actually," I replied, feeling my voice waver. Damn it, I thought to myself, Keep a grip, Cas!

"Just finished taking a nice shower now, I suppose?" How he figured out most of the things he guessed, I have no idea.

"Yeah, heh," I let out a small laugh. I was pretty sure that Crowley could tell something was wrong—but he didn't say anything about it.

"Lovely. Means you're ready to take a break from all this cumbersome and unsuccessful searches for Lucifer's lair and go out somewhere. When will you be ready to takeoff?" I was hoping he wouldn't ask that. I didn't want to disappoint him or make him suspicious of anything, but plans were already made, and I couldn't bail.

"Oh, um, I already have plans. Not sure for how long," was all I could say back.

"Really?" Crowley's voice sounded surprised. "Since when have you decided to go out and be social?"

"I haven't decided to," I let out another laugh, "The Winchesters invited me to go to a diner and maybe do something later with them. I think they just want to get friendlier with me, which is a good thing… I suppose."

"Ah, that sounds… Lovely," he replied, though I could sense some disappointment in his voice. "That's all right! Let me know if you have time later on tonight and maybe I can show you more movies that you've been deprived from."

"Yeah, sure. You can always do something with Meg in the meantime," I suggested.

"I'm pretty sure that girl wants nothing to do with us other than using us to find Bela. Besides, she has more of an interest in you than me. Well, anyway! I don't want to keep you from your plans. Keep me updated, darling. Tata!" And with that, he hung up without letting me say anything else. I sighed and dropped my phone on the bed and went back to my clothes.

I found it funny how I was actually more inclined to cancel plans with people who are righteous with the law for someone who breaks it all the time for his own needs. I pushed that thought out of the way, though, because I didn't want to dwell on the subject any longer.

After putting on a collared shirt and loose jeans, I picked up my phone again and called Dean. It rung a few times before his gruff voice replied: "You ready?"

"Yeah, you guys can head over—I'll be there in a bit. Just text me the address," I said with a yawn distorting the last few words.

"We'll go get you. Where do you live?"

"Oh." I didn't know how to react to that. "You don't have to—"

"I didn't ask, did I?" he replied plainly. "Text me your address and we'll be there in no time. Ciao." He hung up before I could protest, so I let out a sigh and decided to just give in and text him the address.

…

"What? You've never seen the Harry Potter movies?" Sam asked in awe as we sat at a table in one of the nicest diners in town. The way he reacted made me wonder how many huge things in pop-culture I've missed.

"No, I've not really seen many of the new movies. Don't go out to the theatre, you know? I don't really have time to watch them at home, either," I said, feeling a bit embarrassed by being so out-of-place. Dean—who was surprisingly sitting next to me—shrugged, saying that he never watched the movies nor read the books because it was boring, causing Sam to kick him in the leg.

Those two brothers are very interesting ones, to put it simply. I could tell that they were entirely complex people—as is everyone, yes, but this felt different. I could sense a wall between us, even while we socialized. It was already hard for me to get out of my shell, so it was even harder when I felt there were so many things in the past that weighed them both down. I didn't bring any of it up, of course; I didn't want to be a Downer Debby. I also didn't want Dean to dislike me when he was finally being a bit nicer.

The food was pretty good—Dean and I both got a double-bacon burger while Sam settled for a bean burger. I could tell that Dean was eyeing Sam's sandwich judgingly, and Sam noticed it, too. "Dude," he said, "You can stop looking at my food with disgust."

"Burger is for meat, dude," Dean scoffed and took a big bite out of his sandwich.

Sam glared at him, obviously not amused. I continued eating my burger in silence, not jumping into the conversation. A brothers' argument was only for the brothers; you don't want to get on the bad side of either of them. Either way, it was nice to know that we were all bonding in some sort of way. It just made me nervous for what Crowley would think when he found out.

xxx

I found it a bit odd that Cassie-dear would be invited to hang out with the Winchesters, but I supposed that there wouldn't be much harm in that. I was a bit surprised that Cas had even accepted it, to be quite frank with you. Either way, I felt like it was a good thing for him (even though I honestly felt a tad bit jealous since Castiel had been coming over almost every time he was off work) to get more comfortable around social events and situations.

It had been a few hours since I last talked to Castiel—I think it was around 8pm we last talked?—and I had just recently got off the phone with Meg, who said that she wanted to check the area one more time because she remembered a mention of a secret room that no one but Lucifer—and maybe a select few—knew about. She, of course, had no idea of its location, but she said it'd be worth a shot to check it out at least one more time. Maybe we overlooked something, since we weren't searching for a room-in-hiding. I wanted to have Cas come over so we could talk about it—yes, yes, I know that my main reason was just to see him, okay? There's no reason to point that out to me, darling—but it was looking like it wouldn't work out for the rest of the day. Still, I was keeping my phone close to me since I knew that there was a possibility he would leave his socializing soon.

Sure enough, at around midnight, I heard my phone go off from the side table next to me. I was, yet again, reading a nice book with a cup of hot tea and Growley was resting on my lap—funny, it seemed like that was around the time that Cassie-boy liked calling me. Either way, when I picked up the phone, Cas sounded very tired and, surprisingly, quite intoxicated.

"'Ey, Crawlee Ahm back home," he slurred his words horribly. "Dey 'ready dropped 'e off ah' home."

"Darling, are you… Drunk?" I inquired with the lift of an eyebrow.

"Errr Ah think Ah may beee," Cas returned with a snort.

"I thought you three were going to do things such as eat at a diner?"

"'e did buh' Dan suggested 'e go to a bar and he said Ah wus too upti—up…" he paused, presumably trying to figure out what word he was trying to say. "Tense an' dat Ah needa loosen up so he bawt me lot stuff." He then hiccupped.

As much as I found the situation amusing, I couldn't help but worry about one specific thing: "You didn't accidentally talk about me or our plans and how you've… Well, you know." I didn't want Dean and Sam getting too friendly and Castiel being naïve and speaking under the influence of alcohol; that would mess up our entire plan.

I heard some fumbling and then a loud thump to where I assumed that he dropped the phone, especially since I heard an "oops" coming from him that sounded farther away this time. A few more fumbling and he picked up the phone again, saying, "Naw, didn' tell 'em nuffin. Donchu worry, Crawlee."

"Good to hear. But now that you are home… Why are you calling me?" I assumed there was a reason, but then again, being drunk can dismiss that assumption. "Is there anything you need?"

"Didn' yew say to call when done?" Castiel responded with some difficulty.

"Well, yes, but that was under that assumption that you would be completely sober. You can't even drive here," I replied with a sigh. I wanted to see him, but obviously driving drunk was a horrible idea.

"Can' yew get meee?" He sounded a bit upset, though I had no idea why.

"Of course I can come get you, but I figured you wouldn't want—" I started, but he interrupted me; he probably didn't even hear that I was speaking.

"It's boring 'ere. Come pick up pleaaaase." And with that, he hung up the phone. Astounded and slightly pleased at the same time, I put a bookmark in my book and placed it on the end table. Growley wasn't too happy that I pushed him off, but I explained to him that it was very important—he didn't stop complaining, though. Either way, I decided it would be a good idea to be around the drunken man so I make sure he doesn't run around telling people that he helped rob the museum or something of the sort. I was only glad that he was able to relax more and that he actually drank more than a sip like when I invited him to drink. It did, of course, spark some more jealousy in me about him relaxing around the Winchesters—especially Dean—faster than me, but I pushed that thought out of my mind right away.

…

Once I picked up Mr. Intoxication from his house and brought him over, I had to literally support him while we walked. He put all of his weight on me as we shuffled over to my house, and it was almost impossible! He's not a heavy man, but it's a lot harder to handle someone who is drunk than anything. It was even worse in the car. He was in the backseat, rolling around and loudly singing along to the music I was playing while I drove, though I found it fairly amusing. He kept trying to ask me questions that were incomprehensible, and half of his vocabulary was lost and he would spend minutes trying to find a word that had escaped him. He was also telling me a story that would be interrupted by another story and then another, et cetera et cetera, to where I would eventually not know anything that was going on, neither who George was.

"Here we are," I let out as I dropped him onto the couch, which he almost rolled off of from losing balance somehow. I laughed, which caused him to laugh even harder and for a long period of time. It took a while before I could even say anything to him—so I decided to sit down and wait—especially since he was trying to talk to Growley and get him to come close; of course my dog knew better than to approach an intoxicated man, so he stayed sitting in the far corner of the room where Cas-darling wouldn't be able to reach even if he tried really hard.

"So. What will you be able to do while being drunk? I'm assuming that only watching a movie or something would require no effort from you. I'd hope," I added after he had calmed down and stayed laying on his back, watching the ceiling.

"That ceiling is… is shaped weird," was all he could respond with.

"All right, I'm presuming that is an agreement to my statement." I rolled my eyes with a laugh as I stood up to look at the shelf of movies that I owned when Cas reached out and grabbed the bottom of my pant leg.

"Crawleeeee, look at the ceiling. Why is it so… angle-y…?" he asked, genuinely confused, as he tugged at my pants so I would walk over to him. I decided to humor the poor thing, so I changed my direction and kneeled down on the floor next to him. Cas pointed at the ceiling and squinted as if his life depended on it—it was rather cute.

"Well, it's a vaulted ceiling. It's just what some people like having," I said softly as I looked up myself. He then stopped pointing and then nodded multiple times before getting completely distracted. I must say that his state was a bit hilarious, but I did miss the Castiel that was reserved and seemed to stop breathing when I got close. This time, he was just looking at me, his eyes still squinting.

"Whyyy didja lissen to me when Ah told yew to get me…" he asked, though his inflection didn't change at the end, so I wasn't entirely sure if he was questioning anything. He then grabbed my sleeve and gripped at it tightly and pulled it close to him, making me look at him quite confused.

"I didn't want you to spill our secrets, darling," I said with a laugh and moved the hand from my free arm to stroke his hair gently. He surprisingly didn't move away—instead, he frowned and grabbed that arm as well. I raised an eyebrow and watched him closely, trying to figure out what was going on. His eyes were then opened rather wide, the blue of his eyes showing bright as he observed me. Tugging at my arms, he pulled me forward, his eyes completely locked onto mine; I was utterly confused with what he was doing.

Something then changed in his attitude and Castiel moved back to his drunken state. "Ah wuddent tell any'un even 'fwas gonn' die, yew jerk." he then pushed my arm to the side and huffed.

"All right, fine. I'll go find us something to watch and you can just stay there on the couch," I replied, trying to smile and still a bit puzzled by what happened as I headed over towards the shelves yet again. It was also very strange that when he started pulling me over—I could have sworn that my heart started beating faster. It almost seemed like something was changing, but I honestly had no idea what; I assumed Castiel had no idea either, especially since he was completely drunk.