Dear Addiction

Chapter forty four

After saying goodbye to Bobby, with promises to call him soon, Dean had only a few minutes to show Castiel around the house before he was being picked up by Crowley, and dragged to the recording studio. It had been the slowest four hours of Dean's life, jumping between playing the guitar and singing, making small tweaks to sounds, and being constantly worried about Cas and Jack. What they were doing, if they were comfortable, if something had happened.

He'd shown them around, insisted they could go anywhere, minus his or Lee's room which both needed searching, eat anything, play in the heated pool, though Cas had seemed unconvinced. As if when Dean returned he'd go back on every promise he'd made, no matter how many times he'd made it.

By ten o'clock when Crowley's ferrari approached Dean's own street the nerves hadn't calmed down, if anything they'd gotten worse. As he sat in the passenger seat, his knee bounced continuously, gaze on the passenger window, watching the familiar houses pass, much too slow for Dean's comfort.

"The album's going to be shit," Dean finally said, breaking the silence they'd sat in for most of the drive. He didn't look to the other, even as Crowley cleared his throat, keeping his gaze firmly on the window.

"We'll slap your pretty face on it, and no one will care about the music." Dean didn't reply, and for a moment Crolwey didn't continue, the car once again falling in a silence, as they turned onto Dean's road. "Things are looking good for you," Crowley finally continued, "the whole Jack act, the press is adoring it."

"It's not an act." Deam grumbled.

"Either way, it's working in your favour."

Dean clenched his jaw, a deep breath filling his lungs as they pulled up to his house. He pushed the passenger door open, determined not to give Crowley another glance, until the other man cleared his throat, getting Dean's attention.

"Dean," Crowley said. Dean turned his head, his gaze meeting the others. For a moment Crowley didn't continue, instead letting the silence sit around them, only disturbed by the soft gusts of wind that chilled Dean's cheeks. "It's good so see you clean."

"Oh don't be such a chick."

Before Crowley could argue, Dean slammed the passenger door closed, and turned away, beginning the walk up his own driveway. At the end, outside his garage was the impala, and next to her a dark blue Aston Martin's Vanquish, an expressive sports car, not worth the money, with an ugly outer, and an even uglier interior.

"Hey baby," Dean hummed softly. He brought his hand to the impalas roof, letting his finger trail across the cold metal. He'd thought they were going to have to leave her in Nebraska though luckily Bobby was a little smarter than Dean, and had brought a tow truck.

When he reached the end of the roof he let his hands fall back to his side, continuing the rest of the way to his front door, and into his kitchen. Inside he could hear low talking from the living room, though before he continued he stopped at his fridge grabbing a bottle of beer.

"Another car?" Dean called as he walked through the small hall that separated his kitchen from the living room, twisting off the bottles cap, before he brought it to his lips for a quick drink. "What happened to you wanting to open a bar?"

When he stopped into the living room, both Cas and Lee's eyes were on him. Lee sat on one of the armchairs, while Cas sat at the far end of Dean's L shaped couch, Jack on the ground in front of him, playing with a few toys. "You're just jealous."

"Of what? A fuckin' Aston Martins?"

Before Lee could reply, Jack cut him off. "Bean!" The child cried, jumping up from where he had sat, toys completely forgotten about as he ran towards Dean.