Risky Living - Destiel Fanfiction

Chapter Three

  6:34am

Eeeeer...

The front door creaked open.  I immediately jumped out of bed, checking my alarm clock.  Who the hell gets up this early on a Saturday?

Like a slug discovering how to inch across the pavement for the first time, I rolled out of bed with an audible groan, my body thudding on the wooden floor beneath.  I was still wearing the slacks and white button up shirt from the day before.  My hair a wrinkled mess.  I walked out to the guest room, stretching my arms and yawning loudly.  When I had walked into the room, it seemed like nothing had even been touched, not a single crinkle in the bed sheets.  I checked the guest bathtoom, perhaps he was brushing his teeth? But then I came to a gut wrenching realization.

Castiel Novak wasn't there. 

Rushing out of the room, I searched the kitchen, then the living room, and I found a note placed neatly on the couch, reading:

Mr. Winchester,

You have no idea how grateful I am for the stay and support, but sadly I must say that I have to depart from your care.  I am leaving not because you aren't a good man, but because I am embarrassed of myself for being this vulnerable and lazy.  Again, I am grateful for the help, but I can handle myself. 

Take care.

Castiel Novak.

Shit.

I charged outside, and thank god I woke up when I did, he was only just leaving my driveway. 

"I wouldn't leave if I were you," I said loudly.

He halted in his tracks.  And then, he turned around. 

"I can protect myself," he smirked, raising his arms, "I'm a man, aren't I?"

"Yeah, a man who was mugged and is now possibly a target of a serial killer," I replied, raising an eyebrow. 

He huffed.  "I'm fine!" He yelled. 

That's when he started walking again, quickly, down the street toward the other homes.  I darted after him, knowing how dangerous this part of the city was.  There were multiple sketchy people walking around, all miserable people just looking for a fun time.  And I knew one hundred percent that Castiel was a perfect embodiment of a good time to many of these guys strolling around. 

"Listen to me, it's dangerous here," I explained, sprinting to get in front of him. 

He crossed his arms.  "Look, I don't know you! And I can't trust some stranger with my safety! No matter what the cops say.  Just let me leave, and...and don't come to murder me or anything when I'm back in Milwaukee!"

Forcefully, he pushed past me and continued walking, briefcase gripped tightly in his right hand. 

"No," I snapped.  I had rushed up to him again and this time grabbed his arm, tightly.  He stopped and winced, trying to pull his arm free.  But I then grabbed ahold of his other arm and pulled him toward me.  "Listen to me," I emphasized, "you have no clue where you're going, what the people are like here, and you have no way to contact anyone for help because your phone was stolen—which, by the way, a possible murderer has it!"

Guilt washed over him, and he began to avoid my eyes, finding the concrete sidewalk more appealing than my tone. 

"Look, I know it's scary," I sighed, releasing my death grip on his arms.  "But...I need you to trust me.  I'm the only hope you have right now in terms of getting home.  Otherwise you could be out there and face a much worse threat than what you're facing now.  Now, please, let's go back, get dressed into clothes we haven't slept in overnight, and go get breakfast.  How does that sound?"