Neon Lights

Chapter 51 - Sweater Weather

•Castiel's POV•
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January 3, 1969
11:34 a.m.
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I sat on the porch, ignoring the rain that soaked my jeans and soiled my white tennis shoes. The air was crisp and cold, but despite this I couldn't be bothered to wear a coat.

All I could think about was Meg. I hope she's okay, I thought worriedly for the millionth time today. Supposed to meet Dean at his house at 11:30. What time is it?

I checked my watch. Shit!

I got up and raced down the street, water splashing up and wetting the cuffs of my jeans. My breathing grew desperate, sucking in the cold rainy air, and my heart rate picked up.

I forced myself to slow down when I realized how rapid my heart beat. Can't over-exert myself, I told myself with a gulp, I'm almost 20. The inevitable day draws closer, don't want to speed up the end.

This knowledge followed me like a shadow, rode on my shoulders like a heavy backpack. My inevitable end. I should tell Dean, right? It's only fair.

But what the Hell would I say? "Yo home dog, I'm dying"?

Also, I need to chill out. I might not die. I'm young and strong, right? I think it's better to tell Dean when this becomes an immediate issue. Yeah.

I walked the rest of the way to Dean's, leaving fearful thoughts about my inevitable end behind. Now, Meg was my center of attention.

I sped up my pace.

"Hey!" Dean tugged his mackinaw tighter around him, "Jesus fuck! Put a jacket on! You'll catch pneumonia, again!"

I shrugged, teeth chattering, "I-I'm fine, D-Dean. Real-ly."

He ignored my feeble excuse and gave me his jacket. I tugged the too-big-for-me red plaid jacket around my shoulders, breathing in the sharp musk of Dean and relishing in the warmth.

"But now...y-you'll be cold!" I protested, trying to give his jacket back. Dean forced my arms through the sleeves, having none of it.

"I don't wanna hear it," he said, "Get in the car, quickly. Before I freeze to death!"

I sniffed guiltily and got in the passenger side, breathing deeply to bring down my heart rate. Dean slipped in the driver's seat with a dramatic "brrrrr!" and started Baby's rough engine.

I tossed his mackinaw in the backseat as the car warmed up. He drove down the almost-empty side streets, passing quaint little house by quaint little house. He briefly passed by Cedarwood Road, which brings back memories. I should bring him there someday, not that he's never been...

The Impala pulled up in front of a big tan-coloured home. Lights shone gently from the windows, looking warm and inviting. They still had their Christmas tree up, though it appeared they've started taking the decorations off. As we approached, I could see the back of Mrs. Masters's head as she sat reading a book. Probably the fucking Bible, knowing this family.

Dean knocked on the door. Mrs. Masters got up from her chair in the living room and quietly made her way to the door - like a proper lady - and opened it just a crack.

"Hi Mrs. Masters," Dean said politely, in a sweet tone - just like when he talks to Michael - "We're friends of Meg's, Dean and Castiel. Just popped by for a visit, if that's okay?"

"Of course!" She ushered us in, "Get out of this wretched storm!"

Her face was subtly powdered, her lips a pinkish hue. She'd done her hair like she was going to see the damned President - held back in a perfect bun, not a single strand out of place.