Bring It On Home- A Destiel AU [COMPLETED]

Chapter 6

Dean was worried about Cas.

It was a cold Saturday afternoon and Castiel had been sitting on his front step for about two hours. Gray sweatshirt, hood drawn tight around his face, aviator sunglasses, raggedy jeans and flip flops, hunched over with a pack of cigarettes and chain smoking. Fidgeting. Shivering.

It wasn't any of Dean's business.

But then, it kind of was his business, right? Because Cas was a certified fruit loop, and the ground was crunchy-frozen and every now and then a snowflake would drift down out of the heavy white sky and no one else was going to go up and say Cas, hey, come inside before your skin turns blue and your toes fall off. Dean was the only one.

So finally he took out his half-full trash bag, and pretended to casually notice Cas. He moseyed over.

Cas didn't seem to notice, but then it was hard to tell behind the sunglasses. He just kept sucking on his cigarette.

"Hey, Kaczynski," Dean greeted him. "Psyching up for a full day of unabombing?"

Cas exhaled a cloud of smoke and shivered.

"Hello?" Dean waved a hand in front of him. "Earth to space cadet? Anybody home?"

Cas shook his head.

Dread prickled at the back of Dean's neck, and he was starting the think something might be seriously wrong. "Castiel," he said, "is there a reason you're sitting out here?"

Cas flicked the ashes off his cigarette butt. "I was going to be a priest, you know. I don't think I told you that before." He took another drag. "Went to seminary and everything."

Dean tried to imagine Cas as a man of the cloth, and failed. "Catholic? Really?"

Cas nodded.

"A priest?" Dean couldn't wrap his head around it. "The celibate kind?"

Cas smiled to himself.

Dean rubbed his jaw. "I'll be damned. What changed your mind?"

Castiel's smile shrank, and he took a moment to inhale another lungful of nicotine. He exhaled with a groan and ground out the butt on his doormat. "The problem of evil."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

Cas didn't answer. He just huddled further into himself.

"Well, regardless..." Dean glanced up at the sky. "It's looking like snow, Cas. You should go inside."

Cas shivered, but gave no sign of hearing.

Dean sighed and crouched down to Castiel's level. "You alright, Cas?"

Cas's mouth went small and tight, and he shook his head just barely.

"Cas." Dean spoke a little quieter. "What's wrong?"

He was silent for a long moment, and then finally he whispered, "I'm cold, Dean."

And that was all it took, apparently. Dean couldn't stand it anymore, couldn't just let him wither and die out here. "Alright," he said, taking Cas by the elbow and standing them both up, "up and at 'em. You're coming over and I'm making you coffee."

Cas didn't protest, but mutely allowed Dean to lead him inside.

....

"How do you take your coffee?" Dean asked, pouring him a full mug.

Cas sat at the kitchen table, tapping his fingers softly on the Formica. The bright overhead light made him look even smaller, more tired, the shadows and lines in his face darker than ever.