I've Got You, Cas (Destiel)

Hunter

"Who are you?"
"Castiel."
"Yeah I figured that much. I mean what are you?"
"I'm an Angel of the Lord."

Dean sat on the bed, clutching his head. The headache was fading now but the memory remained imprinted in his brain. He heard Cas reveal his identity. He saw the shadow of his huge wings on the wall. Mesmerising yet terrifying. They were a tiny glimpse of his true form.

He lay back in the bed, closing his eyes and trying to sleep, praying that it was all a dream. But sleep eluded him and he was thirsty for answers. No matter how hard he tried not to think about it, his thoughts kept straying to that warehouse, the unconscious bearded man and Cas, the Angel.
How did I remember that?

The next few days were uneventful. Dean was still scared and had recurring dreams. It was always about the bearded man, the warehouse, the symbols, the Angel. He never mentioned a word of it to Cas. He was freaking out but he couldn't bring himself to talk about it. Cas was nice to him but if he'd not told Dean about him being an angel, it must've been because he had a good reason. So Dean put on a façade of calmness, as if nothing had ever happened to perturb him. However, being cooped up in the bunker for so long was beginning to take a toll on his nerves.
Dean desperately needed to get out of the bunker. So when the opportunity presented itself, he grabbed it with both hands.

Dean observed that though Cas spent most of his time in the bunker, sometimes he'd disappear for days on end and when he came back he refused to talk about his trips. He had been living with Cas for about eight months now and Cas had been on a total of eleven such trips, sometimes vanishing for as long as two weeks. It was another one of these "trips" that Cas was preparing for when Dean insisted on joining him.
"No, Dean." Cas said without even looking up from his laptop.
"I need to get out, buddy. I can't stay cooped up here, man. It's unbearable."
"No." Cas refused to humour him.
But Dean kept egging and nudging Cas until he finally wavered and allowed Dean to come with with under certain conditions.
They drove to a town ten hours away and checked into a motel. They had dinner at a nearby diner and then Cas walked Dean back to the motel, asking him to stay in his room and not leave or try to contact him under any circumstances.
"If I'm not back by morning, take the Impala and drive back to the bunker as fast as you can." he said.
Dean nodded, concerned. He had no idea what Cas was up to but the other man refused to answer him. So Dean finally gave up and decided to go to sleep.
An empty warehouse. Strange symbols. The bearded man. Dean shooting the trench coated man.
Who are you?
I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition.
Yeah,thanks for that.
Dean stabbing him.
The bearded man fainting with a touch on his forehead.
Who are you?
Castiel.
Yeah I figured that much. I mean what are you?
I'm an Angel of the Lord.
Dean woke up, sweating. Panic shot through him. He called out his friend's name and then realised he was alone. He sat there on his bed, running a hand through his hair, trying to ignore the growing sense of terror. Finally, unable to take it any longer, he got up and decided to try and find Cas. He didn't care what he was doing, he needed to find his angel.

Locking the door behind him, Dean practically ran down to the Impala. Cas had taught him to drive and apparently Dean was a natural. He felt around his pockets for the key, dug it out and started the car. Only then did he realise that he didn't know where to go.
Dean sat in the driver's seat, clueless and frustrated, panicking and trying his best to ignore his thoughts. He refused to believe that something had happened to Cas. He needed to find him. Resolve hardening, Dean started the engine again and drove to the nearest bar.

He walked in, sat on a stool and motioned to the bartender, a pretty brunette. She slid over seductively and Dean smirked. However, he had no interest whatsoever in her. The only thing on his mind was finding Cas.
"Hey handsome," she purred. "What can I get you?"
"Well for starters I desperately need some information. You happen to see a man in a trench coat around? Dark hair, blue eyes, about yea high?" he said, indicating with his hands somewhere close to his ear.
"How about I get you a drink first, honey? On the house." she said.
Oh lord, what a bitch. Dean groaned internally.
"Look, I ain't here to have a drink, doll. Give me what I want."
The girl narrowed her eyes.
"Get out." she said.
"I'm asking you nicely. Humour me." Dean whispered, sliding her a dollar bill.
She glanced around furtively before pocketing it and leaning in.
"Yeah, he was here. Pretty damn sexy, messy hair. He was asking around about that recent string of deaths."
The bartender straightened herself and began walking away.
"Continue." Dean commanded, sliding her another bill.
She smirked.
"Think he went to Daphne Hill's place. Buddy of mine. She practically dragged him out. Don't think he was too happy though."
"Can you take me there?" Dean asked.
"My shift gets over in the morning, honey."
"I'll see you outside."
She smiled at him, winked and walked away.