BOBBY'S PLACE - EARLY MORNING

Dean stood on Bobby's back porch, arms folded against the winter wind. He had to take a moment to marvel at the fact that the property had an actual backyard here. Sure, there were still paved roads and lots from the old days, but without the junkers and under four inches of snow? It all just looked like yard now. It wasn't long before Castiel drove his car out of the nearest garage and pulled up in front of Dean, who didn't know whether to laugh or cry. It was a burgundy, 1989 Cadillac Brougham, waxed and boatlike. It was too cold not to get in fast, but Dean couldn't leave it alone.

"I feel like I'm going to a cranberry's funeral," Dean said.

Castiel (in his giant, puffy gray parka again) didn't know what that meant, but he recognized the look on Dean's face. "It's a beautiful car," he said defensively.

"If you're Dolemite," Dean said. And then he heard the music playing. It was the campfire mix of 'We Could Be Together' from Bobby's old Debbie Gibson mixtape (which he swears was a gift). "Okay," Dean said, "just let me-."

He reached for the tape deck and Castiel slapped his hand away.

"We're in my car," Castiel said. "I pick the music."

Dean snorted to himself, settled into his seat and muttered "tyrant" under his breath. Knowledge of the amount of fair this wasn't had begun to descend on him.

"Whatever happened to my Baby?" Dean asked. When he didn't get an answer, he looked worried. "My Impala?"

"I'm not clear on the particulars of the battle at Stull," Castiel said, "but the energy released, when Michael and Lucifer died, tore through a ten mile radius with the force of a category four hurricane. Your car was at ground zero."

"So she's wrecked?" Dean asked, still a bit hopeful. "But we can still fix her up. That's what Bobby does now, right? Fix up wrecks."

"In theory," Castiel said. "All Bobby and I ever found of your car was the trunk, stuck halfway through the side of a burnt down warehouse."

Dean looked like he was going to be sick all over the velvet interior.

"It was a small price to pay," Castiel assured him. "To ensure the fate of humanity. Heaven, Hell, Earth. I just wish we'd made it there."

"Sounds like things turned out alright for you and Bobby," Dean said.

"I know you did something," Castiel said.

Dean didn't follow.

"You said Lucifer killed me in your timeline," Castiel said casually, eyes on the road, "but you treat me different now. Like you think I should be angry at you. I'm guessing Stull wasn't the end for me afterall."

"No," Dean said. But he didn't wanna elaborate. They had a good thing going here, they didn't need to know what happened with Purgatory, or Bobby's death.

"So I survived somehow," Castiel went on, "and then you did something wrong. Or I did. Or we disagreed. And now, in your timeline, we aren't friends anymore."

"Don't try to head-shrink me, Cas," Dean said. "It doesn't get any smaller. We been through a lot on the other side of this Time Crotch, but we're still family, okay... You're the one that's changed here, not me."

Castiel gave Dean a quick, sidelong glance. "You made me miss my turn," he said.

"What the hell are we doing on this side of town, anyway?" Dean asked. "You always drive to work in a nautilus?" Castiel arched a brow at him. "What?" Dean asked. "I can't know what a nautilus is?" Castiel looked back at the road. "Screw you," Dean said, "I know plenty."

"I avoid the bridge on Underwood," Castiel said. "There've been no less than three collisions on it this winter alone. There's no guard rail no signs. The city really should block it off."

"Yeah, that old bridge," Dean said. "Me and Sammy used to jump off that thing every summer when we were kids. I remember, there was this girl he was sweet on - older girl. She was a real firecracker..."

Dean stopped talking when he noticed the tense look Castiel had.

After driving in silence a moment or two, Castiel asked, "...Did you ever get hurt?"

"Nah," Dean said. "Well,... yeah, we did. But you know, kids get hurt, they get dirty."

That made Castiel frown. "And nobody stopped you?" he asked. "What about Bobby?"

"Bobby? Bobby's the one who taught us how to swim," Dean said. "We learned in that river."

Castiel smacked the steering wheel. Glaring at the road, looking pissed as all get-out. "Son of a bitch," he said under his breath.

Dean could tell what was ticking him off. "You need to have it out with him," he said. "I love Bobby, he's like a father to me. But he'll smother you if you let him."

"Smother," Castiel said, sounding validated. "That's exactly what he does. I feel like he's just... pressing on my brain, and forcing all the air out."

"Okay, simmer," Dean said. "I know you guys had a deal, but come on. It's not healthy, two grown men picking at each other like an old married couple." Before Dean could even see the incredulous look Castiel was giving him, he added, "That's different, we're brothers."