The Fault in our Worlds (A Destiel Fanfic)

Chapter 2

Dean Winchester drove a black 1967 Chevy Impala. He drove it carefully, but manically. Speeding over the speed limit, and squeezing in just before the lights flashed red. I gasped whenever he overtook a car, squeezing in just in time.

"So where did you get this car?" I asked, even though i had no knowledge of cars whatsoever.

"Well, my dad bought it when he was young, and passed it onto me. She's a beauty, isn't she?" Dean asked glancing at me.

"She sure is."

"What car do you drive?" Dean asked.

"Uh... just a cream coloured Mazda. Nothing special." I said.

"Nothing vintage?"

"No. I'm boring like that." I said while Dean took a sharp turn into a suburban street lined with average suburban houses.

"I doubt you're boring." Dean winked. A few minutes passed.

"Do you go to school?"

"Yeah, i'm in sophomore year though. A bit behind. Guess they just can't handle me. You?" He smiled at me.

"My parents pulled me out when I was diagnosed three years ago," Dean glanced at me "I started teaching stuff to myself.... i'm a bit of a nerd."

"Nerds are cute," Dean said slowly "VERY cute."

I blushed slightly and rested my cheek on the window to cool it down a bit.

"Sorry to ask, but how are you alive?" Dean's voice took on a serious tone. I sighed.

"After I was diagnosed, they said I only had a year or so to live. But they still put me through everything. Surgery, chemo, radiation. Then they put me on this trial drug, Angoxinplan. It didn't work at first, and my lungs started filling up with fluid. Then they drained them, and the drug kicked in, slowing the growth and yeah, here I am."

"A miracle from above." Dean laughed and I rolled my eyes He didn't know what that actually meant, I did.

We stopped at the very last house, at the very end of the street. It was a slightly faded yellow colour, with a slightly overgrown but neat front yard and a garage door off to the side. Dean cut the engine and got out of the car. I followed.

Deans house was neat, but not overly neat. There were some books piled on the dining room table and a man was sitting on the couch.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled kicking his boots off and dropping his keys.

The man got up, Sammy, his hair almost reached his shoulders and curled around the back of his ears. He was wearing a plaid shirt and jeans, the top button of his shirt undone revealing a white t-shirt.

"I got us a j-" Sam stopped eyeing me.

"Sam, this is Cas." Dean smiled at me.

"Hi, Cas." Sam put out his hand and I shook it. Dean walked out of the hallway and into the kitchen. Sam smiled at me and went back to the couch. I went to the kitchen, to see Dean rummaging through the fridge.

"SAMMY!" He yelled.

"WHAT!?"

"WHERE'S THE PIE?"

"THIRD SHELF FROM THE TOP ON THE RIGHT NEXT TO THE CHEESE!"

"GOT IT!"

Dean pulled out a plate of pie and dumped it on the bench. He looked up at me.

"You like pie, right?"

"Yeah." I scratched the back of my neck.

"Good, I can't be friends with someone who doesn't like pie," I stared at the crinnkles in the corners of Dean's eyes "ISN'T THAT RIGHT SAM!?"

"Mhmm." Dean cut some pie and put it on two plates. He handed one to me and we walked over to Dean's room.

His bed was roughly made, a green blanket thrown on top. His bookshelves were lined with old books, and an old leather binded notebook sat on his bedside table. I noticed there were some symbols etched into the bedframe and door. Demon warding.

Dean flopped onto the bed nearly tipping his plate and spilling pie all over the bed. I sat down in his desk chair and stared at him. I could see a box sticking out from underneath the bed, and salt lining the outside of the frame. Who is this guy?

"What are-" I asked but his eyes stopped me.

"Do you believe in the supernatural, Cas?"

I considered that for a few moments before replying "Maybe."

"Well it's all real." Dean said looking at me for approval. I nodded.

"I know." I sighed.

Dean straightened up "But you said maybe."

"Yeah well, it's not like I go around telling people that." I eyed him. A Hunter. Dean Winchester is a Hunter.

"You're a... Hunter?" I asked wearily.

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"I noticed the markings all over this room and there were some on the windows in the kitchen. The books on your bookshelf look old, your bed is lined with salt, you have a trunk sticking out from under your bed and you carry a knife with the Devil's Trap on it." I explained.

Dean stared at me, his jaw slack.

"No, i'm not a Hunter. If that's what you wanted to ask."

"Then what are you?" Dean's hand twitched towards his pocket, the one with the knife. I knew it couldn't kill me, only diseases and an Angel Blade could. But it would be weird if I didn't die after he repeatedly stabbed me in the chest. Something told me I could tell Dean about myself.

"An Angel." I exhaled playing with a loose end on my sweater.

"Bullshit." Dean barked, laughing.

"Oh really?" I asked, my eyes lighting up. Dean scrambled off his bed, the tiny bit of pie tumbling to the floor, the plate shattering. I could hear Sam barging down the hallway towards us. I didn't move.

"What?" Sam opened the door.

"Nothing, Sam. Go away." Dean snapped bending over pretending to pick up pieces of the plate. Sam left.

Dean shot up immediately.

"What do you mean you're an angel?" He asked.

"Well, I was sick of my family, so I came down here. Sadly, the boy who's life I blended into had Cancer. But I liked the family. So I stayed."

"But," Dean stuttered "You're an angel. How can you... be sick?"

"We're not like that," I got up and scanned over Dean's bookshelf "I mean some of us are, like the arch angels. But i'm merely an average angel. Nothing special." I turned and faced Dean.

"I'll take you home," Dean said "I don't want Sam overhearing this just yet."

                                                                                *  *  *

We stopped just outside of my white neat house, I saw that my parents were still awake, the lights on in the house.

"So when do I get to see you again," Dean asked "Castiel?" He said my name like as if he savoured every last bit of it.

"I'll call you." I said unbuckling my seatbelt.

"Wait," Dean's hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, his other hand digging in his pocket "you don't have my number." He scribbled something on my hand and smiled, leaning back into his seat. I smiled back and got out of the car, pulling my oxygen tank out after me.