-A/Ns: I apologize for the surprisingly late chapter, both by a week and by a day. I've been very stressed out lately and very busy; gave myself too many projects, have finished almost none of them, and am currently having panic attacks about all of them. Fun times!

-Reviews: Thank you for your continued support last chapter. I appreciate it more than words can convey! I'm so sorry I wasn't able to get you a chapter last week despite your support and wonderful awesome encouraging words. There should have been more commas in that last sentence...

-Quality Warning: Ugh, another chapter not quite up to par. So...I massively fell behind in writing and didn't even finish this chapter until Sunday (today) afternoon when my roommate had to pick me up off the kitchen floor where I was curled up in a ball sobbing because I'm a mess who ruined the resin-casting of a tabletop for the third time in just as many days (I hate this project so much, guys, and I did it all entirely to myself by thinking I could build myself a craft table -_-), pushed me into the shower cuz it's my happy place where I get all my best ideas (don't ask) and then shoved my laptop into my hands and kicked me out the door to go find a nice place to hermit and write. So...y'all have a chapter today because my roommate's a boss. But it's not a great chapter because I'm still a definite basket case and forced the last third into existence by sheer force of will. I'm not happy about it, but you guys have already waited two weeks and I can't keep stalling. So, please take the second half of this chapter with a grain of salt. It's not what it should be but I'll get back to my old self eventually (once this friggin' mother friggin' god damn friggin' friggin' crap on a cracker desk is done once and for all)

(P.S. I dove head first into this project to avoid my phone and laptop and all other screens to give my eyes a chance to heal. Bad. Friggin'. Call. I'll take my eye strain and several hundred dollars back, please.)

-Chapter Warnings: Sam's grocery shopping, Azazel's helping out ('May I suggest this fine bottle of 1942 Sauvingon Blood, good sir? A most excellent year indeed. Great legs.'), Dean's making leaps and bounds in lady's fashion choices (next stop, RuPaul's drag show!) and despite all the fun we're having, everyone's getting just a tad bit testy this morning.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The Road So Far (This Time Around)

Season 2: Chapter 23

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Sam grabbed a six pack of beer out of the cooler section of the store and set it in the cart, mentally going through the rest of the list of items they should pick up since they were on a supply run. The usual road trip snacks to get them through when diners weren't open or available. Beer. A couple bottles of water for Sam (Dean refused to touch the stuff for hydration purposes unless absolutely necessary). They needed new bandages and stitching thread after that ghost in Iowa and the werewolf case that had followed after.

The hunter pushed the cart through the rest of the refrigerated aisle, back towards the bulk of the store and other supplies. The sudden, unexpected chill that crawled up his spine caused his feet to slow and the cart drifted to a stop next to the ciders. Someone was watching him. He could feel it, like ants crawling across his skin, hair standing up along the nape of his neck. Sam took a breath, making a show of looking at the selection of bottles as he tried to parse the source.

Eventually, the hunter used his angle to check just over his shoulder, but the aisle was empty. It was fairly early in the morning for the Walmart to have much customer base, and he was the only one in the section. Still, the ants persisted. His breath came out in a shaky release, and the hunter shivered. Was it colder? Or was it just the cooling units? They were the open kind – no doors, like with the freezer section – and the aisle had several degrees cooler than the rest of the store long before Sam got the sensation of someone watching him.

He didn't realize how afraid he really was until he started pushing the cart forward again, knuckles white around the plastic grip. He dealt with danger almost every day of his life – at least every week, case to case that he and his brother found – and yet he knew if he lifted his hands from their death-grip on the cart, they would be trembling. Sam couldn't shake Azazel's voice in his head, the moonlight coming through the windows in a parody of what had started as a good dream, the demon's fingers digging into his cheek and jaw.

His hands were shaking even on the cart now, and the hunter sped up and rounded the corner.

Right into somebody.

The man barely dodged to the side, managing to miss Sam's cart by a scant inch, even as the young Winchester pulled back at the sudden appearance. His breath hitched in his throat as he jerked to the side at the sudden stop, ramming the cart right into a display. Chips rained down on the floor as the metal rack wobbled on impact.

"Whoa, sorry, there," the man – middle-aged, Caucasian, wearing a pair of running pants and a wind breaker – said as he righted the last of the movement of Sam's cart with a tight grip to the metal grating.

Sam was breathing hard, brain yelling at him to get a grip, as he looked towards the gentleman, intent to apologize. He was picking up one of the bags of chips and handing it over to the hunter when Sam froze.

His eyes were yellow.

The younger Winchester scrambled back, hitting the shelves next to the chip display as he got as far as possible from the yellow-eyed man as quickly as possible. He was lucky he didn't knock anything else over. The guy was giving him a worried (and apprehensive) look from a pair of perfectly normal, human, brown eyes.

"Uh…okay…" The guy set the chips back on the display himself, hedging around Sam's cart and away from the hunter as he side-eyed him cautiously. "Sorry for the…er…scare, there. Have a- have a good day."

The customer scurried off, casting another uncertain look over his shoulder at Sam, who was now feeling like a complete idiot. He forced his chest to stop heaving ('Get a grip!') and he pushed off the shelf with fierce internal derision.

Get a grip, indeed.

Sam moved the cart out of the way, scooping up the rest of the fallen products and putting them back on the rack. He glanced down the way the man had disappeared again, now quite certain he'd imagined the whole thing, but not yet able to calm his racing heart entirely enough to be sure. The man was gone (who could blame him?) and the rest of the section of groceries was fairly empty. Neither of the two other shoppers that he could see were paying him any heed.

Sam swallowed. He hadn't realized how alone he was since parting ways with Dean and Castiel. Vulnerable. Sam swallowed again against the reflexive fear of Azazel's threat.

'Be seeing you real soon, now, tiger.'

This was what the demon wanted. To mess with his head, and it was working.

The brunette straightened back up, casting another quick glance around him. Gripping the cart, he forcefully shook off that feeling of being watched ('You're being paranoid, Sam') and quickly moved towards the pharmacy section where he could pick up those bandages. He tried not to think about the relief it would be to meet back up with his brother and his angel as soon as possible.

-o-o-o-

Between Dean and Angela, they managed to get Cas into a pant suit and blouse with surprisingly little hassle. The employee manning the changing rooms eyed Castiel's bare feet with the kind of raised brow that suggested she dealt with this shit all the time, and Dean ushered the angel into the small stall before anything more could come of it. He got more of a look from the attendant for joining Cas in the small room than anything else.

"Uh…do you…need…?" Dean, standing in the open stall doorway, gestured hopelessly to the clothes they'd gathered, undergarments included (and boy, had he faced the opposite direction while Angela helped Cas pick out a simple bra and set of underwear, pretending there was nothing interesting (like sizing or lace or see-through-ness) happening behind him).

Castiel, glancing first at the clothes and then the human, needing it spelled out for her apparently, eventually shook her head. "Angela will guide me through it."

The relief on Dean's face was apparently enough to get the devil woman laughing again.

While the two of them disappeared into the dressing room, Dean wandered back into the aisle of clothing (giving the attendant a look as good as he'd gotten from the bored teenager). The hunter mulled about listlessly, picking at the fabrics as he brushed by them. He was idly looking through the racks of clothes closest to the stalls – bored out of his mind and my god, how did men go shopping with their significant others without committing suicide?! – when he spotted it. It was a woman's jacket, light and probably meant to be a raincoat. It wasn't the right style or cut or even length.

But it was the exact right color of tan.

The man from the future couldn't help it. He crossed the aisle to pull the item and its hangar off the rack and stare at it. It was slimmer than Cas's original trench – cut for a woman with a bit more flair than that ugly thing the angel had worn everywhere.

Dean glanced behind him at the stall where Cas was getting dressed. He looked back to the garment, gave it about three seconds more consideration, and folded it over his arm. Feds wore raincoats all the time. This was part of the costume. That was all.

Cas came out several minutes later and Dean was honestly impressed. Angela cleaned up nice (not that she'd needed it (damnit, no, stop thinking about the woman's looks, Dean)). She looked like a proper business woman, in faintly pinstriped slacks and a matching jacket, a muted rose-colored blouse with some weird neck tie thingy at the top (shut up, fashion was not Dean's thing. You're lucky you got anything more than general colors). She looked nice. Certainly nice enough to pass for a fed. Well, except for the bare feet.

"Here." Dean held out the coat, gesturing with his chin to the approaching angel. "Put that on and we'll get you shoes."

"Is this a customary garment for females?" Castiel took the jacket, confused as to why she would need an extra article to keep her dry or warm when her grace would do both as was needed. Angela had no wisdom on the coat either.

(In actuality, she totally did, but she was keeping it to herself. Cas still appeared to her as a trench-coat wearing angel in fuzzy slippers, after all. She wasn't an idiot; she could see the similarities to this coat now. Not to mention her growing suspicion that there was a teddy bear's heart of gold under all that gruff worn like armor by the man standing in front of her.)

"Uh…yeah. Let's go with that." Dean cleared his throat, face – still red from earlier – now turning exasperated. "Just put it on, will ya."

Despite not understanding the request (demand?), Castiel slipped her arms through the cloth and adjusted the garment until it felt comfortable. Castiel had never contemplated clothing before, both the look of it and the feel. It was… a necessary nuisance, she concluded. Once she'd finished with the garment, she stood, staring at the hunter who was staring at her. He looked quite serious, something dark on his face, but not necessarily bad. Castiel could not explain it.

Dean nodded and, just like that, the look was gone. "Alright, let's find you some shoes."

-o-o-o-

When they met back up with Sam near the registers, Dean immediately noticed that whatever was going on with his brother, it had gotten worse since they split up. The hunter did a quick, subtle surveillance of the store around them, looking for suspect activity that might have stirred up whatever Sam dreamt about last night.

He was starting to suspect exactly what it was (and in reality, was looking for demons with his quick glance around), but he wouldn't know until he got Sammy alone long enough to make him fess up.

The younger Winchester did an adamant job of stowing it, instead eyeing Castiel's new outfit (which Dean had told her to just wear to the register, since he did not wanna deal with stopping somewhere again for her to change or, heaven forbid, have her get naked in the back seat and have to live with that image tormenting his brain every time he even so much as looked at his baby's backdoors). Dean stood there like the dutiful mule all men on shopping trips were apparently doomed to be, holding an empty shoebox and torn off tags, soon to pull out his wallet to pay for it all.

Dean didn't know how normal people did it. Those poor fools.

Sam gave an approving nod over the clothing choices in general, though he spared an odd look and raised eyebrows for the coat. It was sort of a knowing look in Dean's direction (couldn't get much past that kid), but mostly amused by the time he directed it back towards the angel. The coat was…well, it wasn't ugly, but it wasn't exactly flattering either. More of a… female Tax Accountant of the Lord. Sam didn't say anything, reasonably sure why his brother had selected it (and even more sure that Cas didn't know why she was wearing it).

"You look nice, Castiel," Sam said instead, a smile ready for the angel as Cas turned away from the racks of colorful candy and loud magazines.

"Thank you, Sam." She cast a glance down her body again, then gave a satisfactory nod. "If this will help me pass as human, I appreciate the assistance."

"You know what would help you pass as human?" Dean grumbled from behind them, voice low and growly. Cas turned with earnest eyes and Sam sent an ugly look towards his brother, even if he already knew what he was going to say and he did have a point. "Not saying it aloud around a bunch of humans."

The angel seemed to realize her mistake, glancing around less than subtly to notice several people well within hearing range of them. A couple were casting furtive glances in their direction.

"Yes, I suppose that would be wise." Even though she was agreeing, the angel was also busy having a stare down with one of the more blatant eavesdropper. Dean, uncomfortable with the way the guy was staring at her, cut in between them, effectively ending the staring contest. Castiel's blue eyes left the weird dude's and locked on Dean, oblivious to what had just happened. "I will endeavor to…act more…appropriately in public."

"Don't worry about it, Castiel." Sam offered that smile again, not so oblivious to what had just happened and giving his brother a third judgmental side-long look in just about as many minutes. At least, it sure looked judgmental from Dean's perspective. "You'll get the hang of it. It just takes practice."

Dean was opening his mouth to tell his brother just how much help Cas had in that department, from his very much awake devil lady vessel, when he noticed the angel busy staring at his chest again. The hunter stopped mid word to stare right back at Cas, a frown pulling at his eyebrows because, seriously? What was going on with him- her? The intense look (god, was it more intense than usual? Was that even possible?) made Dean want to rub protectively at his sternum.

Castiel's hand moved by her side, reaching up. It was the second time that morning Dean had noticed.

"What is it with you today?" he asked, only a little accusatorily, and caught Castiel's eye as the angel snapped her head back up. "I got something on my shirt, or what?"

Castiel opened her mouth to respond (was that a guilty look behind that stoic expression?) when a lady behind them in line suddenly bumped into Sam, a mumbled 'excuse me' coming out about the same time she reached past him to grab a soda from the small fridge beside him. Her skin brushed his, the fridge door hit his arm as it popped open, and the beanstalk of a man just about jumped out of his skin scrambling away from her in a dictionary definition of over-reacting.

(Okay, that was an exaggeration, even Dean could admit. His kid brother didn't jump out of his skin. But for a trained hunter like Sammy in just about the most normal place you could be on earth (well… normal except for the way some of the patrons dressed (normal people, man. They were the real scare (where were we? Oh right,))) that knee-jerk reaction might as well have been a six foot jump for the kid.)

Jesus, what was it with everyone around him acting weird today?

Sam recovered quickly and cast a shaky smile the woman's direction. The doe-eyed lady just blinked, stunned from the extreme reaction, hand around a bottle of Pepsi still in the fridge. Both embarrassed and confused, she retreated back to her place in line with a quiet apology. Feeling like an idiot for scaring the poor girl just about as badly as she'd scared him, and over a soda, the younger Winchester turned back to Cas. He planned on resuming their earlier conversation (which was actually a counter attack to avoid any conversation about that little freak out he'd just had). Unfortunately for him, Cas beat him to it.

"Are you alright, Sam?" The angel was staring at him in that soul-piercing way, and given what Dean had told him, Cas probably was staring at his soul.

Sam swallowed, chasing away dark thoughts of what the angel would find there. "I'm fine. Just tired." Castiel looked like she might argue that (good luck, because it was the truth, even if Sam wasn't ready to go into details on why he was so tired) and Sam decided to head that conversation off too. "I didn't sleep well last night, is all."

The angel blinked, processed that (she sometimes forgot that humans needed things like sleep, as she had no obligatory needs to relate to), and accepted it. Dean didn't though. The older Winchester was still staring at his brother. He wasn't so easily fooled. Something was definitely up, and it had just gone from an orange alert to pure red.

The Walmart checkout line wasn't the place to bring it up, but now the car was going to be good enough.

-o-o-o-

As Sam slid into the passenger side of the Impala – Castiel climbing once more into the back, the discontent look back on her face as she again submitted to inferior human transportation, and Dean in the driver's seat – the youngest Winchester tucked his hands beneath his legs to…. He didn't know. Hide them? Stop the trembling?

One dream and he was a quivering mess. A single whiff of copper that his brain had supplied entirely on its own. It was as infuriating as it was disheartening. God, it had just been a dream. What on earth was he going to do if he had to face the real thing again? And it was coming. He knew it was. Azazel wasn't the type to bluff. Sure, he took sadistic pleasure in messing with Sam's head, but that didn't mean he was lying about his threat. He could be around every next bend, waiting with that damned blood, to either force down Sam's throat or blackmail him into it with one threat or another.

Sam hadn't realized how truly terrified he had been until he'd split up from his brother and Cas at the store. Not until he'd ran into that random guy and lost the tentative control he'd had on his primed and terrified imagination. The fear that gripped him, even after the completely nonthreatening human had been nice enough to help clean up the mess he'd made, was overwhelming.

Hence, the shaking hands. At least, Sam hoped that was the cause of the tremors running through his fingers, and not the promise of the blood he knew he, on his worst days, still tasted on his tongue. Maybe even craved.

"Alright, spill," Dean announced less than a second after Castiel had closed the rear door. The angel blinked at him from the backseat, uncertainty painted across her face as the colloquialism she did not know.

He wasn't looking at her, though, and Sam fidgeted in the passenger seat.

"Later."

"Nope." Dean shook his head, keys still in hand and clearly in no rush to go anywhere, even though they had a case and a witness waiting on them. "What's going on? You almost took out half the candy rack back there, Sasquatch. What's up with you?"

Sam sighed, rubbing at his eyes. They were dry, gritty, and burning, and had been since he'd woken up. "I'm serious, Dean. Later."

His brother stared at him hard for a moment before he twisted around to look at the angel in the back seat. "Cas, can you give us a minute?"

Castiel looked perplexed and Sam made an aggravated noise in the back of his throat.

"Dean-"

"Alone," the hunter added in an attempt to clarify, cutting Sam off in the same breath. It worked, as Cas tilted her head minutely, blue eyes glancing between the two brothers, and then gave a single nod.

"Of course." She disappeared with the faint sound of a wingbeat. It took Sam a second to spot where she reappeared, outside of the car and about twenty feet away. Like a woman in a suit and trench coat (in the middle of summer) standing stiff and utterly unmoving in the middle of a parking lot, trying not to pay attention to the car with her charges in it wasn't awkward and noticeable as hell. The younger Winchester wondered how long it would take before people started steering clear.

"Alright, now spill."

An aggravated sigh passed his lips and he rubbed at his eyes again, wondering if the developing headache was from his brother, his lack of sleep, or his skyrocketing blood pressure and overall anxiety level. Or maybe it was entirely in his head, a placebo effect of having demon blood waved in front of his face.

"Cas wasn't the reason I didn't want to talk about this, you know."

Dean didn't give even an inch. "Tough. Spill."

His aggravation was ratcheting quickly up to anger and Sam wasn't prepared to deal with his fiery temper on top of everything else. "Not right now. I'm not- I can't…" The young hunter gritted his teeth, took a deep breath, and counted to ten. Dean let him without comment. "Just not right now, alright?"

His brother continued to stare, but the fact that he wasn't immediately pushing back meant Sam was probably going to get his way on this. Probably.

"Is it world ending?"

Sam wasn't entirely sure. In a way, yes. Right this instance? No… But he couldn't help the way his eyes darted around the parking lot, looking for pale skin and yellow eyes. Dean didn't miss it, but, surprisingly, he didn't flag it, either.

"It's Azazel," the younger Winchester confessed with a world-weary sigh. God, he felt it, down to his bones. "It was just a dream, Dean."

Until the moment that it wasn't, at least. He knew he needed to tell his brother about the demon's threat – this was not the sort of thing he could afford to hide for long – but it wasn't as though there was much Dean could do about it in the meantime. If there was a way to keep a demon that powerful away from him, they'd have done it already.

"Was it?" Dean's voice was accusatory, but didn't carry much heat. More concern than anything. "Cuz you're definitely acting like it's more, Sammy."

"Look, just…later, okay? I need to…" Not think about it. No, Sam would rather forget it ever happened all together. To stop expecting the demon to be around every corner, jar in hand and crimson liquid sloshing just behind that thin layer of glass-

"Time. I need time," Sam finished a little shakily, shoving off those thoughts and the faint echoes of the dream which, no, he wasn't sure was just a dream. Was pretty sure it wasn't. And wasn't that the story of his life, lately. "I'm not like you, Dean, alright? I haven't seen this all before, I don't know how it works out!"

Dean fell silent at the outburst Sam definitely hadn't intended to let out. He was tired. Tired, and apparently terrified, which was humiliating as it was exhausting. The younger Winchester pinched at the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, trying to force back the tiredness and the headache that came with it. "Let's finish the hunt. Then we'll- uh, we can talk about it then."

"…Alright." Dean didn't look happy – and what a role reversal for the older Winchester to be the one pushing for a share session – but he didn't fight back, and Sam was grateful (if not thoroughly surprised). It was clear the older of the two wasn't happy about it, but Dean just pushed open the driver side door to go fetch Cas and finish this hunt so Sammy wouldn't have any more excuses to hide behind.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Sam interrupted his movements, and Dean paused before he was fully out of the car. "Bringing Cas on a case?"

The man from the future frowned sharply at the total change of topic, pulling his head back. "What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing. She's just…"

"Just what?" Dean sat back down on the seat, staring expectantly at his brother. If he hadn't just given Sam his way and not insisted they talk about whatever the hell was bugging him – and yeah, Azazel showing up in his dream seemed like a pretty friggin' big deal (definitely something they should be talking about) – Dean would have thought his brother was bringing up Cas as a distraction.

Maybe he was. Or maybe he was just pissy over that dream of his. He was entitled, Dean figured, able to hazard a guess as to what the yellow eyed demon had to say to his baby bro.

He was going to enjoy gunning that bastard down a second time.

Sam was rolling his eyes, bitchface all huffy. "Does she even know how?"

Dean scoffed immediately. If that was Sammy's big concern, he had a hell of a surprise coming to him. "Trust me, Sammy. She's good to go. Just you wait; Cas makes hunting easy."

-o-o-o-

Well, she certainly didn't make interviewing witnesses easy. The three 'FBI agents' left Mrs. Alder's house to the sound of the door being slammed purposefully behind them and quickly locked. Yeah, they probably needed to leave before the woman decided to call the cops.

Sam leveled a look his brother's way – he'd probably call it a bitchface, but it was deserved – and Dean rolled his eyes, though the fidgety way he cracked his neck afterward suggested at least some level of fault on his behalf.

"Alright, so, we'll leave Cas behind on the next interview."

It was Sam's turn to roll his eyes. 'You think?!'

"I do not understand," Castiel interrupted the two, standing between them, which still gave Sam plenty of freedom to glare at his brother over Angela's head. "What did I say?"

Dean bit back the retort that immediately came to mind ('Oh, really? Now you're devil lady doesn't wanna help you decipher humanity?') and instead rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh. He needed a hot shower and a night on a better bed than their current accommodations. "Generally, mentioning that someone's granddaughter might have turned into a 'savage vengeful spirit' ain't exactly normal human behavior, Cas."

The angel frowned, both at the annoyance in his tone and the words themselves. "It was the truth of the situation."

"It was a little harsh," Sam offered helpfully, a tight lip smile failing to lighten the mood as they climbed into the Impala. "And most humans don't know about the supernatural. They won't believe you when you bring it up."

"That would explain why she insisted we were 'crazy.'"

Dean shot a glare into the rear view mirror as they settled into the car. "Alright, enough with the air quotes, Cas. Point is, we got nothing out of the old bag." He reached past Sam's grasshopper legs to pull open the glove box and rifle through their badges, tossing the FBI ones to Sam. "Time for Plan B. Which should have been Plan A all along."

Sam didn't even pull a bitchface, resisting the fight his brother clearly wanted to pick. Turned out, they were both pretty pissy today. Sam's lack of sleep was his excuse. Dean's fallback was his certainty that Sam ought to be spilling his every fear to him. Like Dean had any right to bitch him out about keeping secrets.

And it wasn't a secret. He just… needed time to figure it out for himself, first. Whatever 'it' was.

"Maybe if you hadn't written Mrs. Alder off to start with, she might have had something useful to tell us." Okay, so maybe he wasn't resisting the fight all that hard. To be honest, he could probably use the venting. Although, Sam knew well enough that he wasn't his brother. Getting into it with Dean only ever escalated his anger; it wasn't the release that it was for the older Winchester.

"Written her off?" Dean argued back immediately, a glare across his features. He gestured emphatically around them before starting the Impala's engine. "We're here, aren't we? We tried, and she was useless, Sammy."

Sam was biting out the words before he could stop himself. "She wouldn't have been useless if your angel hadn't-"

"Whoa, hey!" Dean cut him off, and Sam bit his tongue, already knowing he'd crossed the line, even if it was a small one. This wasn't Cas's fault, and both of the humans in the car knew it. "I know he's new to this whole thing-"

"She, Dean."

"Whatever." Dean practically yelled it, and damnit, he was trying, alright? "You're seriously gonna take your pissy-ness off on the angel?"

There was a light throat clearing from behind them – hesitant and kinda gargle-y, like the owner didn't actually know what she was doing – and Castiel, staring at both of them with a look that definitely came from a Warrior of God, said, "I can speak for myself."

Dean immediately leveled his pointer finger at her, shaking his head. "Uh, no. No more talking for you. You are banned from talking."

Cas's brow pinched in a way that screamed affronted angel, but Dean turned away from it only to find Sam staring at him with a similar – although far more judgey – look.

"What?"

Sam's deadpan eyebrows said it all, but just in case Dean hadn't gotten the message, the Samsquatch verbalized it: "Nice, Dean."

"What- will you just- will everyone just calm the hell down?" Now he was definitely yelling. Damnit, why were they always yelling? "Jesus! It's like everyone woke up on the wrong side of the friggin' bed!"

"I did not wake up in a bed this morning," Castiel clarified and, given the look on her face, she was definitely speaking just to prove that she could do so and would continue to do so as much as she damn well pleased. The sass was practically palatable. "Angels do not sleep: in beds or otherwise."

Dean was torn between glaring at the passenger in his back seat or rolling his eyes. Attempting to do both kind of gave him a headache. "Yeah, well, you sure flew outta the wrong side of Heaven, then."

Cas went quiet, likely having Angela explain the meaning of the words, but whatever understanding the angel came to, it didn't garner a response, apparently. Dean let the silence between the three of them hang a moment longer before he put Baby into drive and pulled away from the curb, pointing them in the direction of the Sheriff's office.

-o-o-o-

Castiel sat in the backseat of the slow-moving vehicle and watched the world pass by the window.

"Castiel?" Angel's voice was soft. Not timid like Jimmy's had been, but cautious all the same. "You don't have to tell me about it if you don't want to, but… what made you leave Heaven this morning?"

She could sense the anxiety still flowing off the angel, and even more so the shame and confusion that followed. Dean's words, once Angela had explained the meaning of waking up on the wrong side of the bed, had seemingly resonated with the angel in a way that only made that shame worse. Whatever had chased Castiel out of his home that morning, he was embarrassed by how he had reacted to it.

"I would rather not speak of it," Castiel responded between their wedged essences, rather than aloud in the small car.

Angela chewed on her lip – a leftover habit from being alive that didn't seem to stop now that she didn't have an actual body – and nodded. Castiel could probably use some time alone, actually, and she was feeling pretty wiped from the last couple hours of possession.

"How about I take a nap for a while," she offered, tone still soft, "if that's okay?"

"Of course," Castiel answered, only feeling a little guilty at the feeling of relief that came with the humans' offer. The angel returned her to Aruba and the memory of her fiancé, and went back to staring at the passing human world.

-o-o-o-

Dean pulled up out of the Sheriff's building, put the car into park, and turned to face his brother and backseat passenger. "Alright, look. This is not me benching either of you…"

The man from the future held up a hand to stop his brother, who was already opening his mouth to argue. "You wanna come, then come. But I think you should stay. Walk it off or sit it off, whatever. I can get in, get what we need, and be out in ten minutes. We don't need a Mexican jumping bean knocking over more candy displays or…"

Dean slid his eyes over to the angel, who was regarding him with an expressionless face. The hunter sighed, running a hand down his face tiredly. This day had started out so well, damnit. "Just…I do the talking if you come, okay, Cas?"

Sam huffed, sitting back against the corner where the seat met the door. He looked out the window, towards the quiet police station, and silently mulled it over. The truth was, he probably should stay. Not because Dean had a point (okay, maybe Dean had a small point) but because he'd wanted to call Jess since he woke up from that terrible dream. He knew she was safe, knew she was okay, but he still couldn't shake the need to hear her say it. Not after Yellow Eyes had threatened her like that.

If Cas went with Dean, which she seemed rearing to do if that Warrior of God look had anything to say about it, then he'd have a minute alone to make that call. So he slumped against the door paneling and gave his brother a glare. A conciliatory glare, maybe, but Sam made sure to keep it a glare. They were, after all, having a pissing match and Sam was no quitter.

Dean spared him a momentary look that ended with an approving node before he climbed out of the car. Castiel disappeared from the backseat, reappearing on the sidewalk as Dean moved around the car to join him.

Sam watched them disappear into the building before pulling out his cell.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A/Ns: So the last third of this chapter is not my favorite, but I just flat out ran out of time to do better. Hopefully, as in the past, you all won't feel it too much.

Up Next: Sam and Jess have one of their chats, as few and far in between as they are growing. Cas gets kicked out of the Sheriff's office, Dean has to deal with babysitting brothers and angels, and Sam has a question or two to ask Cas about dream-walking demons…

Up Next Timing: I am hoping to resume a weekly post, but I've just been really struggling lately and I was hard pressed to write a chapter in a week when I was in a good mindset. This is the first time I've ever actually run out of chapters when it comes time to post and I'm frankly embarrassed by it. I think I'm in one of my funks, and it's a stupid time for it to happen, damnit. I'll keep working on the story (no fear there; I have way too many fun things planned to give up now!) but I may end up slowing down some until this passes.

Thanks for sticking with me and for your understanding, guys. I really appreciate it. There's still tons to come and we're (I'm) not done yet! :)

*author goes back to grumbling about a desk and resin casting and omg so much money I shoulda just bought a damn craft tableforallthetimeandtroublethisiscostingmewhatwasIthinking?!*