The Impossible Happy

Stare

Dean pulled back on Charlie's excited grip.

"What the fuck? No. We're not going to 'get' anything. I barely like the guy, and before anything I need to tell Sam about--about...everything." Charlie eyed the boy.

"Excuses, excuses." She turned back to her apartment on her heel. "Do you want to order a pizza or something? All this gay talks' making me hungry."

"Oh God, yes."

Charlie faltered for a moment,"But hey, you okay?" Dean stopped and pondered the question.

"I will be. It's nice, though. I feel sort of free now, you know?" Charlie sniggered.

"Master has given Dobby a sock. Dobby is free."

Dean just rolled his eyes.
---------------------------------------------- It had been two hours and still no sign of Dean. Sam didn't think much of it, as he was used to Dean leaving for long periods of time without explanation. He was a troubled guy, and the road was the only place he could calm himself, be sane. Sam knew that. One would think Cas would know that too, and he did, to some extent. But he was still worried. Dean was surely upset with him, after all.

"Shouldn't he have called by now?" The Angel said, inbetween paces. Sam looked up from the book he was scanning.

"Cas, you know Dean, he'll be back."

"I don't know. He should've called, at least. Should we call him?"

"Dude, calm down. Here, take a seat." he gestured to the wooden chair opposite his. Castiel stared at the thing, willing it to somehow meld into Dean. When that didn't work, he sighed and sat.

"Cas, what the hells going on?He always leaves like this, and nothing bad's ever come from it, why are you so worried?" The Angel shifted in the seat he had taken. Because in truth, he didn't know what was going on. He cared so much for Dean, and it confused him at times. In some ways, Dean had been the reason to keep up fighting at all. He didn't understand why, but he was. He had always shared a more profound bond with him opposed to any other human, but over the past year or so, things had become inexplicably...different.

"Uh, It's just unsafe out there, sometimes. We don't want anything to happen to him." Castiel looked at the table, avoiding eye contact with Sam at all costs. He could still hear the stifled chuckle coming out of the oversized boy.

"I think Dean can hold his own, Cas. He's done it pretty much his whole life, buddy."

"Yes, I-I know. But..." At a loss for words, the Angel sunk further into his seat. He rubbed the crown of his nose with his thumb and index finger, trying to will himself to realize why it was he was so worried. He did not find his revelation.

The opening of a door brought new life to Castiel. Almost immediately he stood and looked up to the foyer in which Dean entered from. He practically yelled the boys name.

"God Cas, what?" Castiel shrunk unto himself, but still replied with icy ferocity.

"Where were you?" He practically demanded.

Dean sidled down the staircase effortlessly. He did not answer the question at hand until he was face to face with the Angel.

"Out." Sam looked up at this, the demeanor surrounding his brother was off. Something was wrong.

"Dude, seriously where were you? I think we have a case. I tried calling you..."

"I was with Charlie. Phone died. What'd you got?"

Sam sighed "String of deaths up in Lincoln. The bodies were bled dry, marks on the neck, so I'm thinking vamps--maybe? But get this, vic's were all killed, broad daylight. In cubicles, cars, hell, even the sidewalk. Never any witnesses, just breathing one second, sucked dry the next. Dehydrated fruit in .01 second and--you're not listening to a word of this are you?"

See, the odd thing about this conversation was not the indifference of one Dean Winchester, or the ridiculous winged man a mere 6 inches from Dean's face, but the eyes. Deans in particular, they never strayed from Castiel's. As if they were locked, bolted even, unable to look away. Sam sat back in his chair. Looking upon this stare down of epic proportions.

"Hey um, guys? GUYS"

"What, Sam." Dean did not look away.

"Uh, What the hell are you doing"

Suddenly, as if Pinocchio had become a real boy. He blinked, looked at the man in front of him once more and turned to Sam.

"Sam, you need to come to my room"

"What? Dean, I-I...don't you want to hear about--"

"Now, Sam" He spoke with authority. No questions were to be asked.

Dean turned on his heel and headed for his room. Sam gave Castiel a 'who knows?' kind of shrug and followed behind him.

The Angel still stood, unmoving, dumb struck.