Chapter 38: Borrowed Time

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Dean retrieved the flare gun from the other room and inspected Castiel's handiwork. He let out a low whistle, tapping his toe against the pile of ashes. "Well, that wendigo's definitely out for the count."

Castiel followed Dean up the stairs and out to the car. Neither of them was sure how long they had sat on the floor just holding each other and recovering their energy. They both intentionally avoided the subject of what had happened, concentrating only on the part where Cas had killed the wendigo.

"Poor guy," Dean commented. Cas looked over at him, anticipating an explanation. "I mean, he didn't ask to become a monster and mutilate his pets and terrorize people. It was just an unfortunate turn of events..." He thought for another minute. "You ever wonder how much of the actual person is still in there, banging around somewhere, watching themselves do all this stuff? I mean, is it like getting possessed by a demon and hitching a ride in the backseat, or do they just go full Frankenstein?"

Castiel knew Dean needed to hear something uplifting. There had been too much bad news in the hunter's life recently – and in his whole life, really. Regardless of whether it was true or not, Cas was going to give him at least a speck of good news. "In cases like these, monsters turn exceedingly fast. The transformation is both quick and complete. There is nothing left of the host's mind or consciousness afterwards."

Dean nodded. "I guess that's best," he said. "Still, poor bastards." Castiel felt a familiar tug in his chest. He didn't know exactly what it was, just that it made him want to reach out and comfort the hunter in some way, make him feel better about life, make him smile again – because he knew Dean deserved that more than anyone else. But he couldn't. He didn't know how. So he just remained silent and looked away.

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It was late afternoon when they arrived back at the cabin. Dean went straight for a bottle of beer. He nodded at the pile of dishes in the sink. "I'll wash, you dry?" He didn't actually give Cas a choice because he threw a towel at the angel's chest before he had a chance to respond. Dean laid some more towels on the counter and found himself a sponge. He turned on the faucet and started scrubbing down some dishes with warm water and soap, then rinsing them off again. He placed the clean dishes on the towels that he'd laid on the counter.

Castiel walked over and stood beside him, in front of the counter. He grabbed each dish that Dean cleaned and used his towel to dry it off, then placed it in a stack to the side. "So, new coat?" Dean asked, nodding towards Castiel's trench coat. "Where'd you manage to get the same exact one?"

Castiel smiled. "This little shop in Brazil. They make so many, they don't even notice when one goes missing every once in a while."

Dean smirked, amused. "I guess there are some perks to having freak angel powers," he commented, handing another dish to Cas.

"You also get to spy on other people's ideas of heaven, which can prove to be exceedingly intriguing," Cas said seriously. Dean laughed, picturing the angel spying on humans in Heaven. "Did you know some people have fashioned their heaven into a brothel?" Cas glanced at Dean skeptically, who was still smirking. "I didn't even know what that was until just a week ago," he mentioned, then shrugged. "Granted, they usually populate it with celebrities or models..."

Dean chuckled, turning back to washing dishes. Cas dried a plate, then suddenly looked at him. "Would your heaven involve a brothel of celebrities and models?"

Dean raised his eyebrows, handing Cas a bowl. "There would have to be alcohol involved too." Cas narrowed his eyes, concentrating on drying the bowl. Dean chuckled again. "What else do people fantasize about up there in Heaven, angel-boy?" he asked.

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