RAMBLE ON - 10
Ramble On
Part 10
spn fic
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Rating: R
Summary: Dean tries to fix things.
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The worst part was ignoring Cas' calls. He only tried twice, one day after another, and Dean stayed true to his agreement with Gabriel. He did not answer. For the rest of the week, the silence was unbearable, he couldn't stop wondering what it meant. Instead of wallowing, though, Dean focused all his energy on the one lead he did have.
He was not as easy to find as Dean had hoped. He didn't have much to go on, and as he got started he realized he had even less than he’d thought. There was no university in Pontiac, Illinois. There wasn’t even a real post-secondary institution in the whole goddamn county.
All he had was a face, courtesy of Agent Henriksen, and the fragmentary story Dean had cobbled together from what he remembered of commiserating about little brothers with Cas. He’d spent the last week kicking himself for not paying more attention, because it became hard to tell whether Dean was missing pieces or Cas simply hadn’t been straight with him.
If he had it right, Dean was looking for a kid in the academic fast lane, already working towards his masters before he'd officially finished his undergrad. In a town with no schools.
Fortunately, a place that size didn’t have too many ads for education research volunteers, either. Dean only found one. Before he knew it, he was sitting outside a cafe in Pontiac waiting for his guy.
How many Alfies could there be doing a dissertation on a “Qualitative Study of the Experiences of Gay and Male Bisexual Men in Trades”?
Just the one, Dean was willing to gamble on that. He was small and unassuming, he waved like he was trying to flag Dean down as soon as he saw him. He jogged half a block from the bus stop where he had just gotten off.
“Thanks for waiting,” the boy called as he reached Dean.
Well, he was younger than Sammy, that made him just a kid in Dean’s eyes. He didn't look a day over twenty, anyway. High school, Dean would have guessed. It wasn’t until he was close enough for Dean to discern the light blue in his eyes that he was even sure this was the right kid.
“No, no problem at all.” Dean put on his best friendly face, and they shook hands.
“What was your name again? John?”
“Bonham, yup.”
The kid faltered. “Yeah, isn’t that the drummer for Led Zeppelin?”
Dean did his best not to look like a deer in headlights. Made himself laugh. “Classic rock fan, nice!” Then, before the kid could answer, “And you must be Alfie?”
“Sorry, yes. Alfie Wiener.”
Again, Dean’s ability to keep a straight face was seriously tested. He wasn’t supposed to know that Alfie had picked his own last name - but god, it took everything he had not to ask why he’d picked Wiener, out of the whole wide world of surnames.
They sat down and thankfully Dean was able to fudge some damn good answers to Alfie’s questions. He had actually dropped out of an auto mechanic program at a trade school, and education was Alfie’s focus. He had to add a lot more gay to the story than he’d ever imagined possible, but even that wasn’t too hard. Dean was only here because he was so hung up on Cas, after all.
Alfie was such a sweet kid, Dean started to wonder if he could even do this. If he should. Cas didn’t want him here, he was probably in way over his head - and Dean didn’t even know what he would do once he did find Cas.
Just say, ‘Please go home’? It hadn’t worked very well last time.
But the opportunity came, when Alfie finished the interview and offered to walk with Dean to help him find a corner store. And Dean found that he did have it in him after all; he didn’t even hesitate.
He paused in front of an alley. “I actually have a question for you now, Samandriel.”
Dean had rightly predicted his response. Alfie made like he was about to bolt, but Dean had come prepared.
Once Alfie’s eyes trained on the Colt just barely visible inside the lapel of Dean’s jacket, he nearly tripped trying to come to a stop. He spoke without a trace of worry, though. “You could get arrested if you’re caught with that here.”
“You calling my bluff?” Dean was banking that he wouldn’t; the Colt was loaded with an empty clip.
Alfie shook his head, but it was with an air of weariness. He let Dean push him into the alley, with his hands up in a surrender that looked more like resignation. He sounded tired when he asked, “Did Michael send you? Raphael?”
“No, I’m not a goon.”
His eyes went wide. “Lou?” That was fear.
“What? Are you listening? No one sent me,” Dean insisted. “I’m looking for Cas. Castiel.”
Then Alfie looked pissed. He snarled at Dean, “It was you,” and then a grip on Dean’s wrist caused a searing pain that made him drop the Colt out of reflex.
Alfie was an unexpected powerhouse, twisted his arm right around until Dean was forced onto his knees. Dean tried to tell him he had it all wrong, but didn’t get past, “Wait, you’ve got it all wrong,” before the pavement came rushing up to bulldoze his face.
Dean didn’t remember anything after that.
- - -
He woke up with a pounding headache and a blinding pain in the bridge of his nose. Hell if it wasn’t broken. He managed to blink his eyes open enough to take in his surroundings; he was indoors. An office?
There was a cluttered desk against one wall and a wide window cutting into the other. The sill, or the blinds, somehow looked familiar even though Dean did not recognize the room at all. Dean figured, déjà vu was probably the least of possible side effects of getting your face smashed in.
Against his back, though, was an upholstered surface, short enough to stop at Dean’s ears where his head was lolled against it. A sofa, he realized, as he turned his cheek against the cushion to look at it. The couch was a deep blue, and big, looked like you could sink right into it. Opposite was a TV on its stand, with a black screen that reflected Dean’s image back at him. His eyes were a shadow, and he wondered if that was the screen or there was bruising evidence of his pain.
A living room, then. It was kind of cozy, in the way it reminded Dean of sharing that bachelor pad with college student Sam, just a couple years ago. It seemed so discordant with being kidnapped. And that he was. Dean registered that his hands were bound as he tried to get up.
The thump alerted whoever else was in the other room to Dean’s rousing.
“You’re awake,” a voice from somewhere behind him accompanied soft footsteps. Socks.
“Am I?” Dean groaned, laying it on a little thick.
“Hold on.” The footsteps retreated. Dean could hear rustling in the next room.
When Alfie returned, coming around the corner with a small white package in hand, Dean had eased himself up onto the sofa and was glaring him down. Best as he could, with the throbbing of a broken nose blaring in his face.
“Here,” Alfie said, offering the package. It was a bag of ice, Dean realized. Alfie just held it out for him, as if waiting for him to take it.
“I’d love to, but-“ Dean leaned forward to show his hands tied behind his back.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” and Alfie went to untying him, just like that.
A second later, Dean’s hands came free, and he gazed between them and up at Alfie in confusion. “You’re not supposed to let your hostages loose.”
“That would be sound advice if you were a hostage,” he responded, apologetic still. He passed Dean the ice pack, and it was a world of relief against the bridge of Dean’s nose. He pulled himself up onto the sofa, and Alfie sat across from him.
“Then what the heck was all …” Dean was gesturing, he didn’t know at what.
“I didn’t know - I thought you were the man who attacked my brother last week. You are certainly not John Bonham,” he added, smiling. “It’s Dean, right?”
Dean barely nodded before asking, “And what changed between now and tying me up?”
“I contacted my brother. He explained my mistake. I should have known, you would have a lot more bruising to show for it if you had met him in person.”
“Cas?” Dean couldn’t believe he still had the energy to spare, but his heart started thumping at the mention of him. Cas was who he had come looking for after all - and if Alfie had brought him home, that meant this was their home, that Cas could be -
“No, not Castiel. I believe you spoke with Gabriel?”
Dean huffed darkly, trying to scoff but not quite making it. He had to shift the ice against his tender nose.
“Yeah, he takes some getting used to. But he told me you were the one who contacted the police for Castiel’s sake. I can only imagine what Gabriel might have said, but I hope you know it was the right thing to do. Thank you.” Alfie was still sitting across from him, too serious.
Dean shook his head, embarrassed. He couldn’t accept a thank you for setting the cops after Cas’ name. “Did he tell you Cas is going back to work for him because of that?”
Alfie frowned, standing. “Castiel couldn’t work with Gabriel. He doesn’t do loan sharking,” he said, with too much finality for how little it actually conveyed. He was backing towards the hall. “I’ve got some tea steeping, just hold on.”
Dean didn’t know what to make of it. He came back with a freaking tea tray, setting it on the coffee table and pouring a cup of dark tea. He ignored Dean’s what the fuck face, seemingly with no intentions of returning to the conversation.
When he asked “Sugar?” Dean couldn’t help himself anymore.
“Gabriel is a loan shark?” He'd been expecting human trafficking, after all.
Alfie nodded. “Or milk?”
“What about Michael? Last I heard, they were both working for him. Can you tell me where that is?”
He put the mug down, sighing. “You’ve got it wrong, Dean. Gabriel doesn’t work for Michael, he doesn’t work for anyone but himself.”
“Well Cas definitely does, so that’s where I need to go.”
“Why do you think that?” Alfie must be dense or something.
“It comes straight from Gabe. You tell me if he’s a liar.”
“He certainly is,” Alfie admitted, as if it was funny, just sitting back with his own cup of tea now. Like this was a goddamn picnic. “But I don’t see why he would say something like that. Castiel wouldn’t go back to work for Michael, he put everything he has into making sure he’d never have to do that again.”
“Oh, fuck.” It dawned on Dean that Alfie was missing a crucial piece of the puzzle. He hadn’t anticipated really having a heart-to-heart with the kid, either, and wasn’t ready for the conversation now that they were having it. He just wanted to find out where Cas was, and be out of here. The loan wasn’t his secret to tell, and if there was anyone Cas didn’t want him to tell, it was the kid sitting in front of Dean now, looking at him like he was speaking Greek.
But Dean wasn’t getting anywhere. Half the truth should be enough. “Okay, kid, I hate to be the one to burst your bubble, but Cas borrowed a lot of money from your family. After the Gabe fiasco last week, he thinks he has to work off the rest.”
Alfie was frowning again. “No, that makes no sense.”
“Alright, so where is Cas then? Has he even come home since?” His hesitation told Dean he was right. “Look, I know he registered an order in Maryland. Is that where they are?”
His lips drew into a tight line, but he did not confirm.
“Please, I need your help. I just want to get him out of there, but all I know for sure is that he’s with Gabriel.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s working.” Holy crap, this kid was more stubborn than Sam!
Dean snapped, “Yeah? So when’s he coming home? Are you even in contact with him?”
Alfie didn’t offer any answer, because he didn’t have a good one. He might have been trying to glare at Dean, but he just looked too upset to pull it off. He repeated, “But that makes no sense - Castiel would never go back to Michael, not to work. You don’t understand, you don’t know what they do. Castiel will not.”
“Fine. He’s not working. Then I’ll just go get him and bring him home. So tell me where.”
Alfie’s face fell. “Dean. I have spent the last eight years trying to get away from my older brothers. You didn’t last five minutes after attacking me. If I’m scared of them, what do you think you can accomplish by showing up uninvited?”
“I’m not going to take them on or anything, I just want to find Cas.”
“No. You are very important to my brother, that makes you leverage. If there’s any truth to this story, I cannot let you anywhere near Michael.”
“So you do know where they are? You can go, then.”
He looked away and set his tea down. “I have to remember that you don’t realize what you’re asking,” he said glumly. Dean couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The brother Cas would do anything for wouldn’t even take a couple days to go help him out. “If Castiel has decided to put himself in Michael’s hands again, that is his choice. I can’t imagine why. Nothing could ever make me go back there.”
Dean huffed, “How about for your brother?”
He narrowed his eyes, not at Dean but where he was staring at the table. “Castiel doesn’t need anyone to save him. If he went back, it’s because he wanted to.”
To hell with secret keeping. “No, he did it for you. You and Inias, wherever that kid is. Why do you think Cas borrowed a shit ton of money? Think real hard, kiddo.”
“That’s why your story makes no sense. Unless Cas had to buy his way out of the family business - but when Inias and I left, there was none of that. We were completely exiled; Father didn’t want anything to do with us.” Dean was just waiting for Alfie to come full circle with his logic. “But Castiel didn’t leave until after Father passed, when Michael took the seat as head of the family. Maybe he does things differently, I wouldn’t know. They didn’t even notify us when father passed away.”
Apparently he needed a push. “Alright - so, who told you that your father died?”
“Castiel. He let us into the funeral, too.”
“Anything else Cas might have told you?”
Alfie just looked at him in confusion.
“About an inheritance from a father who disowned you?”
“Oh.”
Dean put a fist in the air, “There we go!” He was about to crack a joke but -
A crashing cut him off. Alfie’s mug of tea was in pieces over the coffee table. “I can’t believe him!”
Dean didn’t know what to make of it. “You could be a little more grateful,” he tried.
"Just - just shut up," Alfie barked, and the flash in his eyes reminded Dean of the version of Alfie he'd met in that alleyway.
Dean quieted.
"That money is just sitting there, Castiel knows this. I've barely used any of it, maybe a year's tuition and rent. There is no reason for him to go out and act like he has to carry some big weight - when no one asked him to! He didn't need to do anything!"
"He wanted to help you start your life after what happened to you," Dean mumbled low, remembering Cas' words and trying to match them to the rage he was seeing. Would Sam act like this if anyone ever laid out Dean's sacrifices for him?
"No, Dean," Alfie tried to look at him and apparently couldn't. He stood up, took a step away, and turned around again to look at the smashed mug. He groaned in frustration and walked away again, full on pacing now.
"Castiel knows what it takes to break from the family. None of this was necessary, and he should have known it would just pull him back in one day. And now somehow that's my fault? And Inias'? When we never asked for it." He dropped back on the sofa, covering his face with his hands. "And now I have to go back to Ilchester and see Lou again."
"Ilchester? Is that where Cas went?" Dean perked right up. He'd been expecting Baltimore or something, at least some city. Ilchester was new to him.
Alfie shot him a glare for real now. "Have you not heard anything I said? You'd just be compromising Castiel - and me - no, you're going straight home, Kansas boy," he condescended. It was like an entirely different person.
“But - will you be able to bring Cas home?”
He scoffed. “I doubt it. He’s like a horse to water, Castiel. Stubborn.” He had a phone out, was searching for something. He didn’t show Dean. “But I am going to let him know that he’s not using me and Inias as an excuse for his shitty life choices. With no one else to blame, he will probably come in out of the wind anyway.”
Yeah, Dean thought, this is exactly how Sam would sound if the situation was reversed. Did little brothers have no concept of appreciation? But Dean could understand Alfie’s feelings, too… it was completely opposite from Gabriel.
Alfie had put the phone to his ear. “Inias? Castiel fucked us. Yes, Castiel.”
- - -
Dean was humbled for his trip home. The whole drive, he just felt at a complete loss. He had gone to Pontiac with such determination, only to let a twenty-year-old basically send him on a time out. And he just took it.
What else could he do, when Alfie was freakishly stronger than him? Dean had no idea where the little guy was hiding it. Probably the same place he was hiding all that rage under a deceitfully sweet and innocent face. Dean would not forget, could not; every time he looked into a mirror or glass, the dark bruise under his eye was evidence of his ass wooping.
It was well after midnight when Dean made it home, and there was no part of him that entertained going after Cas now. Maybe things would be fine. Maybe Alfie would sort him out, give back all that money, Cas would be free…
He couldn’t really believe that; he couldn’t imagine a better way, either. It was out of his hands, and he didn’t know what to do with them in the meantime. Embarrassingly, he tried Cas’ number again. Out of service. Yeah, right.
He didn’t sleep the rest of the night. In the morning, he called Charlie, and in the afternoon he went for shooting practice with her and Benny. It was even a nice distraction. They went to the Roadhouse and Dean found he had no appetite. He drank so no one would notice that he didn't order food, and he stayed until closing, unwilling to go home. He pretended to be worse than he was, and Jo put him up in one of the rooms that had emptied now that the weekend was over.
Dean didn’t know how he woke up without his alarm because his phone was dead, but he rinsed the night away in the fastest shower of his life and made it to the shop barely ten minutes late. Bobby didn’t say anything about it, or about his black eye. Dean was tired of repeating "You should see the other guy."
Bobby hadn’t asked about the FBI visit either; he was too close to the family, to Ellen and to Sam, not to know that something was going on. Bobby wasn’t nosy enough to ask if Dean didn’t come to him with it. Dean charged his phone in Bobby’s office, without even a word of explanation.
There weren’t nearly enough Bobbys in this world.
Charlie had something else planned after work, but she promised tomorrow at the gun range. Dean didn’t know what to do with himself, he couldn’t be alone with his phone. He had thought Alfie might call or message, but it was day three and still nothing. How long did it take to get to Ilchester?
Dean checked. Eleven and a half hours, driving. He didn’t think Alfie had a car, though. Flying was even better, he could have arrived as early as Sunday.
He didn’t dare send Alfie a message. He went to the Roadhouse, and distracted Garth from his work. Not that there was a lot to do on a weeknight.
Jo cut him off that evening, citing last night as a good reason. Dean had to leave. He found himself in front of the Cobalt Room, watching the meagre nightlife of a Tuesday from behind the Impala’s steering wheel.
He went home. God, this Cas business had ruined his libido, too.
Wednesday had no word from Alfie or either of his brothers. Even a scolding from Gabriel would have been welcome, anything that let Dean know something was happening. In the back of his mind, he’d started to imagine that Alfie hadn't gone after all - not that he left any doubts when he sent Dean home. As far as he could tell, Alfie had every intention of giving his brother an earful.
But maybe he had come around since then. Maybe Alfie realized that Cas was only trying to help, and maybe he would return the favour in the same way. With secrets. It would probably be better for Cas, and maybe Gabriel would deliver Dean’s offer to him after all… but Dean couldn’t see it all just working out so neatly.
If Alfie did confront Cas about the loan, then Cas would inevitably find out about Dean’s trip to Pontiac. If the stalking attempt didn’t upset him enough, then surely the betrayal to Alfie would. Cas would not be very happy with Dean no matter which way he sliced this.
What if the right moment never comes? Gabriel had asked.
Dean knew he should have gone after Cas himself. Alfie had even given him a location despite himself, that meant something, didn't it?
He wasn’t able to sleep through the night with all this buzzing in his brain, and caffeine was the only thing that kept him going through the say. He went home and passed out after work, which was a really bad idea; he completely missed shooting with Charlie and unlike Sam she didn’t know how to break into his apartment and wake him up.
He did get up though, at ten o’clock, wide awake and with a long night ahead of him.
’I’m sorry Charlie’, he sent in reply to her missed calls.
She answered immediately. Charlie, always with her phone in hand. ’No worries. Tomorrow?’
’Yes please’.
He went for a drive, and found himself so averse to going back home again that he made it inside the Cobalt Room this time. Thankfully, he met Ellie, who was going through a rough split and didn’t want to talk much. She brought him back to hers under the express understanding that it was a one-and-done deal.
Dean had a lot less trouble than he’d thought he would. Ellie knew exactly what she wanted from him, and it was a rhythm Dean knew all too well. Every other weekend, he used to almost need this. The past couple months with Cas was probably the longest in years that Dean had gone without getting laid; those months were the anomaly, not tonight.
This, a soft, warm body under his hands, long hair tumbling over her shoulders as she rode him, this was what Dean knew.
Work in the morning. He slipped out while she was still sleeping so he could make it to the shop, where he had an extra pair of Carhartts in his locker. He hadn’t even showered, and every once in a while when he was working he would catch a whiff of her scent from under his work shirt. It didn’t bring the sense of pride it usually did, just reminded Dean that he was covered in yesterday’s grit. That Bobby could probably smell alcohol on him.
He didn’t look at his phone once all day. Instead of being an accomplishment, this time it was simply out of shame. That afternoon, he got a call from Jo, and when he didn’t answer her message, she called Bobby directly. He came into the shop to tell Dean.
“I’m not your goddamn answering service, Winchester.” There wasn’t a lot of sting to his tone, though. He was really being too easy on Dean these days.
If Dean had been keeping on top of his emails, he would have already known what was happening. The truth was that he hadn’t opened his inbox in days now. So when Jo insisted he come up for a celebration round - after closing, to boot - Dean genuinely thought it was for Sam’s graduation next week. The meet wouldn’t until two in the morning, so Dean figured he would be able to go home and shower.
Benny and Charlie showed up at the shop, though. Five o’clock, on the dot.
“That’s right - the shooting range,” Dean said, as soon as he spotted them. He almost considered doing a sheepish request for time, but Charlie overtalked him.
“I knew you were going to be a space case again. You’re not ditching this time, Winchester!” She laughed as she said it, and it was so full of warmth and caring that Dean couldn’t say no.
He splashed his face in the bathroom and slapped on some cologne. He could shower after shooting; he wouldn’t get too close to anyone in the meantime. It would be dark long before he had to meet everyone at the Roadhouse, so he’d have more than enough time to zip home first.
Charlie preferred flying targets, too, and had brought extra. She shot five out of the air for every three of Dean’s; she didn’t let him miss this fact, either.
She also did something strange, swiped his keys. Dean didn’t realize until well after dark, after they’d all packed up again and were ready go, when he pushed his hands into his pockets and found nothing.
He didn’t think anything of it at first, was just listening to Benny talk about the fixes he still needed on his boat before it would be sail ready again. Dean dug around in his jeans, in his jacket again, and back to his jeans, without even asking about the keys. A jingle drew his eye to Charlie.
She was holding them up with a smug expression. “Looking for these?”
“Come on,” Dean said, flattening his tone so Charlie would know he wasn’t even joking a little bit. He held out one hand expectantly. “I need to go home and shower, I’m covered in oil.”
She shook her head, grinning. “No can do. I’m under strict orders not to let you drive.”
“Excuse me? Who’s smart idea -“ Dean looked to Benny, who offered nothing but a shrug. “Are you in on this?”
“S’all the little lady’s doing.” If anything, he seemed amused.
“I’m really not in the mood, come on -” Dean reached for the keys, and they disappeared with a flick of Charlie’s wrist. She laughed.
She was not understanding how little patience Dean had right now. “Jo told me to make sure you eat before you show up. Apparently you got shitfaced last time because you aren’t eating or sleeping, she says.”
Dean gestured again to say give it here, nearly glaring. It wasn’t Charlie’s fault, but he really just needed to go home and shower. He growled, “At this rate, I’m not even going to show up.”
“What’s so bad about going for dinner with us?” Charlie rolled her eyes and just turned to open the door to Benny’s truck. She was as immune to Dean’s displeasure as Sam was, apparently. She’d never been this bad before.
He looked back at Benny again, who just shook his head - smiling, like Charlie was a freaking delight instead of a brat. He started around the truck to reach the driver’s side. Charlie was already inside, patting the seat beside her.
“Pizza,” she enthused.
Dean gave up. If she wanted to crowd the three of them into Benny’s pickup when Dean hadn’t showered all goddamn day, that was her prerogative. He shoved in, slamming the door.
The squish between Charlie and the door made the scent of Ellie’s sheets hit him again; if he smelled like sex, Charlie didn’t seem to notice.
Pizza wasn’t actually that bad. Dean unwound a little after a couple beers, and actually forgot about today’s hygiene lapse. Benny dropped him off at the Roadhouse well past two o’clock, tossing Dean his keys as he walked away from the truck.
“Don’t drink and drive,” he said with a mocking salute.
Dean lifted a choice finger for him as he pulled out of the lot.
All in all, it was the best Dean had felt in the last two weeks; nothing was actually resolved, but finally he had stopped holding on to all the bullshit. Whether little Alfie Weiner could or would fix anything, whether Cas would ever take his offer. Whether Cas was intent on working for his family again, whatever kind of work that was - whether Dean would ever hear from him again.
Dean couldn't change one bit of any of it. It was kind of comforting, embracing his uselessness.
So he entered the Roadhouse in a relatively good mood, easily ready to apologize for being late. The restaurant was all cleared, and only a small group was huddled at the bar. Ellen, Jo, Sam - no Jess, Dean realized, but one of Sam’s friends had come. He was probably graduating too.
Jo was slamming shots with him, as Dean approached, trying to remember the guy’s name. He had his back to Dean, but he didn't need to see the guy’s face. A name was on the tip of his tongue.
Jake, Dean thought, although it was a white guy in front of him. He just needed to list the names of Sam’s buddies. Andy. Brady?
Dean wondered if his drinks were spiked at dinner with Charlie and Benny.
Sam acknowledged Dean’s approach with a nod, too smug for his liking.
Jo was staring at his classmate with wide eyes as he finished her row of shots. She asked, clearly impressed, “Are you okay?”
“I think I am starting to feel something,” he spoke. His voice was treads on gravel, a deep timbre that was even a little scary, putting Dean on edge.
Then he reached the bar and the whole scene seemed to slide out of his grasp. “What the hell,” he managed.
“Dean.” It was Cas looking up at him, when their eyes met Dean didn't know how he ever could have imagined it was anyone else. He moved to get up from his seat, but suddenly gripped the counter like it was a lifeline. “Nope,” he said, eyes going wide.
He was tipsy.
Dean felt his eyes sting, and he hated this moment. It’s too late, he thought, stupidly, even though he knew perfectly well that it wasn't right. Just because he'd given up didn't mean everyone else had.
“Gabe gave me your message. I should have called first, I know. I came to say - to tell you - to ask you -”
Dean surged forward and Cas was really there, he wore an overcoat that was too thick under Dean’s grip, he was so solid that it almost hurt when Dean crashed into him so hard. Despite the audience, all that Dean was able to process was a repetitive, It worked, it all worked, Cas is okay, Cas is here -
His chin was rough, scratched Dean’s when he kissed him. He probably felt the same, after the long day he’d had -
And then the last twenty four hours caught up with him, the fact that Ellen and Jo were not even three feet away, that Sam was watching him try to climb another man like a stripper pole. That he had barely done more than a wipedown of the mess that he and Ellie had made last night, and it had been a real mess.
Dean pushed away, breathless. Cas stared at him silently.
He was pretty sure he saw Sam hand Jo a crisp green bill, but he couldn't focus on that right now.