Until We Meet Again, My Angel

Chapter 2: The Stranger

   Dean woke up the next morning to the sound of Sam turning on the shower. He glanced at the clock- nine AM. Damn, he thought, that's almost six hours. That's almost twice as much as much as he usually gets. Dean smiled as the threw off the scratchy hotel sheets and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.
   Wiping his face with his hands, Dean peered out of the 80's themed hotel room window. The clean glass flooded the room with sunshine. "Huh," Dean murmured happily, "not a cloud in the sky." His eyes drifted to the mini fridge, his stomach growled as if it knew the box had been emptied of its contents. Dean grunted as he pushed himself up from the bed. He stood there, listening to the pitter-patter of the shower's gentle pressure, these places never had good water pressure, and sighed happily. He'd missed this. This was Heaven compared to Hell.
   Hell. Dean's smile faded as his mind slipped into memories of the unholy inferno. Darkness. Despair. People screaming, all the time. Constant pain. The glint of rusty metal as it thrashed him. Tearing flesh. Searing burns on his skin. He screamed and screamed for hours until there was no sound leaving his mouth, he screamed for Sam but no one heard him. There was only Dean... and Anula. In Hell, every day was like a month, and every month a year, At the end of each month, Anula had held an evil grin on her demented face. Her voice would drip with pleasure as she held out her hand, and ask, "So Dean, do we have a deal?"

"Dean!"

   Sam's outburst had brought Dean back to the present. He shook his head, throwing the memories out.
"You spaced out again." Sam said solicitously.
"Sorry," Dean mumbled, "how long was I out?"
"Ten minutes."
"Ten minutes?!"
"Yeah. Well- ten starting when I got out of the shower," Sam seemed to be trying not to chuckle, "I would've woken you sooner, but I was testing a theory."
Dean tilted his head, "What theory?"
   Sam's eyes eyes moved to Dean's hair for a split second. Dean's face was flooded by a wave of confusion, and he reached for his hair as Sam turned away just in time to burst into laughter.
"What the-"
   Dean cut himself off as he brought the hand in his hair to his line of sight... along with several small, brightly colored, bow-shaped barrettes. Dean looked up, fuming, to see Sam shutting the bathroom door behind him, and heard the lock click into place.
   Dean shouted, "DAMMIT SAMMY!" and ran to the bathroom door, and pounded on it with his fist. He could hear Sam laughing hysterically, and he yelled, "SAMMY, I SWEAR WHEN I GET IN THERE I WILL STICK THESE BARRETTES WHERE THE SUN DON'T SHINE!" Still, Sam couldn't hear his brother over his own laughter.

   As he leaned against the motel wall, Cas laughed, wondering how many bows Sam had managed to put in Dean's hair. Suddenly, Cas heard Dean's voice, "Ugh, I'm starving. So, I'm gonna go get some burgers, and then I'll kick your ass." Cas scrambled away as he heard the doorknob turn, hiding behind a dumpster. Dean walked out of the room, but stopped and turned to the alley in which Cas was sheltered. Cas peered around the dumpster and saw Dean, his brow furrowed and jaw clenched. Damn, Cas thought, why is he so goodlooking? Dean's head swung in Cas' direction, forcing Cas to press himself flat against the wall. After a few moments, Dean gave a defeated grunt and walked out of the alley.
   Cas sighed and walked back to the alley's entrance, watching the Impala drive away. Cas recalled how Dean had looked- handsome as always, of course, but his shirt had all but lost it's plaid pattern, very worn out.
   Hmm, Cas tought to himself, I should buy him a shirt. Yes, I'll leave it outside the door. The woman at the front desk had commented on Dean's shirt when he and Sam had checked in. Dean will think it's from her. With that thought, Cas disappeared.

   Cas had watched the Winchesters walk into many stores before, but doing it himself proved more difficult that he had previously thought- even a simple gas station as this. This was the third one Cas had visited. Luckily, this one sold flannel shirts, and there was only one other customer- a large, bald-headed man wearing jeans, a sleeveless plaid shirt, and a denim vest. As Cas walked by, the man gave him a hostile stare. Cas hurried to the rack of flannel shirts, and while he was trying to remember what size Dean was, the bell on the door jingled. Uninterested, Cas remained with his eyes fixed upon the shirts, until the newcomer walked up beside him and began rifling through them as well. Cas spared a sideways glance at the stranger, which quickly became a shocked stare as he realize he was gazing at the face of Dean Winchester.
   Cas snapped his head forward, focusing perhaps too hard on the plaid garments in front of him, as Dean said, "You shopping for a friend?"
Avoiding eye contact, Cas replied, "Yes, how did you know?"
   Dean turned his attention on the shirts once more, "Ah, dress shirt, tie, and trench coat? No offense, but you ain't a flannel man."
Cas couldn't help but chuckle as he said, "Agreed."
"So what's his name?"
"Who?"
"The guy you're shopping for? Hey, and what's yours?"
Cas scrambled, "Uhh... um- his name is Dan."
"Dan, huh?" Dean's face mimicked approval, "I like that. Well, my name's Dean," he suck his hand out, "and you still haven't told me yours."
"Oh, well- I'm..." Cas said the first thing he could think of, "I'm Angel."
   He reached for Dean's hand and shook it. Touching Dean's hand sent a sensation of electricity up his entire arm.

   Dean's arm buzzed with the touch of Angel's hand. Oh no. It had been a long time since Dean had experienced this feeling with a guy. He'd better get moving. dean said a hasty goodbye, to which the man, Angel, gave no objection. Ouch. No, Dean, he scolded himself, he's just a guy. That's it. Just a guy named Angel. And whose voice sounds like gentle rain again a window, and- NO! In his haste to leave, Dean accidentally bumped into the large man as he was leaving the register.
The large man turned to Dean with a look of contempt. Dean held both his hands up in a sign of peace as he said, "Whoa, sorry man, didn't mean to do that." The brute replied, "Watch where you're going." And shoved Dean backwards. Oh Hell no. Dean gave a warning smile, "Listen man, I don't want no trouble, and neither do you." Without a word, the man's fist caught the left side of Dean's face. Before Dean could strike back, the guy named Angel yelled, "DEAN!" (strange, that sounded so familiar) and charged at the man. No, Dean thought, he won't be able to take him. But as soon as Dean had finished the thought, Angel put two fingers on the man's forehead, and the other hand on his shoulder, and the man instantly fell to the ground, unconcious. Dean looked up in admiration, Angel's eyes were the deepest shade of blue, almost glowing- Wait, Dean thought, his eyes ARE glowing! Dean walked toward the large man on the ground, "Is he-?" "He's sleeping." Angel cut him off. Dean, not the least bit concerned, now stepped over the man to stand in front of Angel. As Dean stared at him, he realized how handsome he was- strong jaw, black hair, and those stunning blue eyes. I've seen those eyes before...

   Hell. Anula's blade slicing, tearing, but then it stopped. And she ran. Then there were wings, white, and pure. Strong hands grabbing Dean's shoulders, leaving burns, but pulling him free. His vision was blurry, but as he began to slip, a deep voice, a man's voice, yelled "DEAN!" Dean looked up, grabbing his savior's wrist, and saw two piercing blue lights...

   Dean shook his head, throwing the vision from his head. As he came back to reality, Angel asked, "Are you alright, Dean?" Meeting those striking blue eyes with his own, Dean asked cautiously, "Why did you save me?" Angel looked confused, "He struck you. You were in danger." Dean shook his head, "No... Why did you save me from Hell?"