Take Out The Gunman

9

"How long is Sam going to be staying with you?"

Dean's eyes shifted from the young man exploring the gardens to his best friend. It was Sunday, and they were visiting Castiel, as Dean did every Sunday he had free. There was only curiosity in the question, and Dean relaxed slightly.

"I don't know," he admitted, his eyes moving to Sam, "It was a spur-of-the-moment thing, inviting him to stay with me. He doesn't have any family to my knowledge, and he doesn't know anyone else. I guess he'll stay until he's ready to leave."

Dean's green gaze turned back to Castiel as his friend chuckled softly. "When he's ready," his friend asked gently, "will you be?" Dean contemplated the question in silence for a long moment, reminded again of how well the man next to him knew him. Finally he sighed and answered,

"I don't know, Cas. It's only been a week but I've grown pretty fond of him."

"He's a sweet kid," Castiel commented, his eyes following Dean's gaze to the kid in the garden, who was currently sitting on the ground and playing with a kitten. The man turned back to Dean and added suddenly, "So what's bothering you?"

Dean stared at his friend for a moment – Castiel could read him better than anyone. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair before revealing, "Garth called me last night. Said that psycho, Winchester, has been asking one of the officers to take a letter to someone for him."

"Sam?"

Dean nodded, a scowl marking his features, "Rufus called Garth and gave him the head's up. Winchester doesn't know where he's staying but figured Rufus could find out and get it to him."

Castiel was silent, digesting the information. "Rufus told him to piss off, of course," he said finally, more a statement than a question. He smiled at Dean's chuckle and nod of affirmation. The two watched as Sam stood and moved along the garden path with Squirrel, the kitten, following at his heels.

"I'm not going to let him get hurt again," Dean said suddenly, eyes on Sam and his voice low, "Not by Winchester or anyone else." He glanced over at Cas, who met his gaze with an intense look of his own. The other nodded slowly, and Dean knew he understood the depth of the meaning in his words.

The two men fell silent, watching as Sam approached them. The kid dropped down on the ground in front of them and Squirrel leaped into his lap. Sam raised his eyes from the kitten and graced them with a full-blown grin, complete with dimples. "I think he likes me," he said, scratching the kitten behind the ears. Dean smirked at him as he teased,

"He probably knows you're part kitten yourself."

Sam laughed and shook his head as he denied, "Am not."

The detective reached out and brushed his fingers through Sam's longish locks, lightly scratching his scalp; a second later, Sam was leaning into his touch, eyes closed. A visible shiver ran through the boy and he sighed softly. After several moments the younger man opened his eyes and admitted with a grin,

"Okay, maybe a little."

Dean smirked and pulled his hand away with some reluctance. He glanced over at Cas, to find that his friend was staring at Sam with something like mild fascination on his face. The two watched as Squirrel jumped off Sam's lap and ambled away. The kid shot them a smile before he shoved himself to his feet to follow the fur-ball through the gardens.

Dean glanced at Cas again as his friend noted, "He's very .. responsive, isn't he?"
The detective nodded, turning his eyes back to Sam.

"I was the first person, other than that whack-job John Winchester, to touch him, in any way whatsoever, in four or five years. I don't think Winchester did except to –" Dean paused, fist clenching on his thigh and anger stabbing through him, "-to do whatever it was he did to the kid."