Devil's Angel

Vacation

The two weeks before Dean's departure was a tension-filled, angry induced time. Needless to say, Castiel was beyond pissed at what had happened in the break room, and he wasn't in a hurry to re-experience it. His time was spent furiously working, going over each file twice to make sure there wasn't a single error before submitting it. His work got done in record time, and by the end of the week, he had realized that he had done what should have been three weeks worth of work.

When Castiel discovered this, he sighed, laying his head on his desk and wishing he could hide forever. He was seriously planning on murder at this point, anything that could get these feelings to go away.

Dean must have known something was terribly off, as Castiel had not made a single harsh remark to him in this week. So, the Winchester approached Castiel like he was a feral animal, a hesitant look on his face. "Hey, Cas?"

"What, Dean?" Castiel replied, too frustrated to even pretend to care enough to look up. However, he did move his arm to the side just a smallest bit so he could look up at his boss, his hatred boiling in his chest to the point that it hurt.

"Why don't you take a vacation the next two weeks. You've been working yourself to death, lately. I mean, you haven't even been taking your break." Dean offered, his eyebrows furrowing in true concern. Castiel shook his head, burying it back in his arms and trying to ignore the way his heart was beginning to thud.

"I need to work, Dean. I don't have time to take a break." Castiel lied, shifting slightly in his chair. He didn't know why he was lying.

Dean placed a hand on the back of Castiel's head, and it took the Novak all he could not to let out a needy whimper. "You've finished three weeks worth of work. Take a break while I'm gone, and that's an order.' Dean urged, and when Castiel finally looked up, there was a compassion there that had Castiel scrambling back. He would NOT make this mistake again.

"Fine. Anything else?" Castiel snapped, his heart stinging as hurt crossed his boss's features. He quickly looked away, biting his lip and closing his eyes as he heard Dean take a step back.

"No, that's all. I'll see you in three weeks." Dean said, and Castiel almost lost it right then and there. But, he held out, he forced it in, until he heard the soft ding of the elevator.

Then, he let out a needy sob, shivering and wrapping his arms around himself, already missing Dean's warmth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Castiel chugged down his third mug of boiling hot coffee in the last hour, his hands shaking as he typed quickly over the keyboard, scowling at every article that popped up. He didn't know why he was looking up the theories of the masked man, but he was pissed, and he blamed the pianist for everything going on.

These feelings for Dean are not real. It's all because of this bitch's need for attention. Castiel thought in his silent rage as he clicked the only blue link left on the page. He read through over and over again, trying to find out some detail that could give him clues, anything that can help him find who the pianist was so he could beat the living shit out of him for making him feel this way.

Finding nothing, he growled under his breath, grabbing his mug and stomping into the kitchen, glaring at everything in sight. He poured the last of the coffee into his mug, only getting it halfway, before replacing the now empty pot back in its place. He downed it without a second thought, placing the mug in the sink and leaning against the counter, his palms pressing into his eyes to stem the headache that was beginning to form.

Stupid moron, don't ingest that much caffeine. Dean's voice cut into his mind, making him snarl with hurt and even more anger. He threw his hands away from his face, slamming his fist on the counter, imagining it was his boss's stupid perfect face.

"Don't tell me what to fucking do, Dean." Castiel spat at no one, feeling his heart tear as he stomped back to his computer, sitting down and switching to his email, trying to do anything but think of his boss or the masked man right now.

'Congratulations, Castiel Novak, you've won the contest.'

"Contest?" Castiel mumbled in confusion, his headache making his vision sway just the smallest bit. He clicked on the email, expanding and reading it's contents.

'You have been randomly selected from thousands of fans to meet the famous band, Devil's Angels! You will gain two free tickets, along with backstages passes for your very own experience behind the stage!'

Below that was instructions to get the ticket and backstage passes, but Castiel was too shocked to read any farther. He vaguely remembered signing up for that contest a few days after he had went to their concert. It had been before he really began hating everything, before he was faced with Dean and the feelings that constricted his heart and stomach.

If he had heard this news about two weeks back, he would have been happy, hell, excited even. Now though, all he felt was hot tears dripping down his face as his rage welled into impossible levels. Life sure did have a sick twist of fate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sooo....I have something I really need advice on. I'm working on my first legit, non fanfiction book, and I was really considering actually trying to get it published. The only problem is that in order to do that...well, my parents would have to know about it and the publisher that I wanted to send my submission to works in the gay novel and novella field. Do any of you know how I could tell them that without getting completely annihilated in the process?