Waking up in the hospital, a pinching IV taped onto his hand, an oxygen delivery tube poking into his nostrils, continued to be as disorienting as it had been the first time. It was Castiel's fourth day there, and although he had been moved out of the Intensive Care Unit yesterday, the doctor had indicated that morning that it would likely be a few more days before she could think about discharging him.

"You are extremely lucky sepsis did not occur," she told him, looking grave. "We are going to let the antibiotics do their work and make sure no secondary infections present themselves. The level of oxygen in your blood must continue to improve as well."

Mostly, Castiel felt tired. He hadn't been alert enough to hold an entire conversation at first; he had only blurry memories from the ICU of Gabriel standing over him, looking worn and worried. Charlie finally was allowed to visit him the day before, and she had filled him in on what happened the night he was admitted. He himself had no memory of texting her or the ambulance ride that followed.

"I'm not surprised," she said. "Your temperature when they took it at the ER was over one-oh-five. You wanted to walk here." She had laughed, but it was a brittle sound. Her face was pale in the white overhead lighting, the areas under her eyes smudged with purple shadows above the edge of the paper mask she had to wear. The mask was to protect them both. Castiel had been diagnosed with bacterial pneumonia, and while he was on enough intravenous antibiotics to kill just about anything, he was still considered infectious until they were sure nothing else was lurking in his system. They also didn't want him picking up anything new from his visitors and nurses on top of his current infection.

After Charlie left, he fell asleep again and woke up in the dark, aching and thirsty. Today, he was determined to try to stay awake a bit longer, start shifting his internal clock back to a more normal cycle. He glanced around, but there were no clocks anywhere in the room. He'd have to ask Charlie and Gabriel about getting his cell phone, now that he was staying awake for more than an hour at a time.

Despite himself, he drifted, lulled by the hum of the monitoring equipment, occasionally blinking and stirring as a nurse rushed by in the hallway outside or an alarm went off somewhere in the ward. At one point, he awoke to see Charlie hovering at the side of his bed. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her sweatshirt was open enough to reveal the black shirt underneath that proclaimed 'Coil up with a book' above a cartoon of a snake hugging a hardcover.

"Charlie," he croaked, then tried to clear his throat and ended up coughing, mucus rattling in his airway. He sighed after, feeling frustrated.

"Hey… Do you feel up for visitors? If not, I can come back…" Her green eyes seemed more alert that day. He was certain that, behind the mask, she was biting her lip.

"Please stay. I'm tired of sleeping, but it's difficult to stay awake in this quiet atmosphere."

"Okay. I won't stay too long; there's other people waiting to see you out there. I brought you some supplies…" She raised a reusable shopping bag and started taking out books and putting them on the tray near his bed.

"Please tell me my cell phone is in there somewhere…"

"No way, you still need your rest."

"Charlie—"

"Nope! You can have it when you can stay awake under your own power."

He sighed. Perhaps Gabriel would be more reasonable. "I probably have quite a few missed messages… You said you're keeping in touch with Dean, correct?"

"Uh, yeah… Dean knows everything that's been going on." Her voice crept a bit higher. She flipped one of the books over to read the back of it, as though she weren't the one who had packed the bag.

Castiel narrowed his eyes at her, unable to decide if she was being evasive. "…Is everything all right?"

"Oh. Yes. I just… You know, this has all been really crazy. Um, I also talked to Kevin today. He sent some of these, but he isn't going to come over. He just… doesn't do hospitals, apparently? He had that tone like, 'don't ask', so—" She shrugged, then turned back to him, eyeing the back of his hand where tape held down a loop of tubing running to the inserted needle assembly at his wrist. "So, how are you really feeling?"

"Tired," he admitted. "They said the cough might not go away for weeks, and my chest hurts."

"You know—You said you were fine. I checked on you, every day, and every day, you said you were fine." She blinked a few times, her eyes shiny.

"I was… At least, I thought I was. That day is still very fuzzy. I remember feeling cold. I should have realized I was running a fever, but I was just so miserable, I was trying to sleep…"

She nodded, glancing toward the door. "Okay, just… just rest and get better. I'm, uh, going to go and let the next person come in because yesterday you pretty much stayed awake for only me, and I felt like I stole all the visit time."

Castiel couldn't imagine who else would be here besides Gabriel, especially if Kevin wasn't. He hoped his mother hadn't flown in to make a fuss… He said goodbye to Charlie and then waited, busying himself by scanning the spines of the books she'd stacked next to him. They were on the side with the IV, and he wasn't sure he wanted to try to reach for one.

Someone entered, and Castiel startled at the unexpected sight of Dean Winchester walking toward the bed.

"…Dean?"

"Hey, Cas." His tone was hushed. Like Charlie, a mask covered the lower part of his face, so Castiel could only watch his eyes take in the medical equipment surrounding the bed before settling on Castiel's face. He looked as exhausted as she had.

"Wh—What are you doing here?"

"Uh… visiting you?"

Castiel huffed. "Not what I… You didn't have to drive all the way out here. I'm not dying."

"Well, when I left Kansas, they didn't sound so sure of that, and once I was here, figured I might as well see you at least…" He turned to look around the room. Spotting a wood-framed chair by the wall, he moved to pick it up and placed it beside the bed before taking a seat. "There, now I don't feel like I'm looming…" He glanced at the IV bags, the stack of books, and Castiel's hand before meeting his eyes again. "You're probably sick of hearing this by now, but how're you doing?"

Castiel breathed out, letting his head sink back against the pillow. Dean seemed to radiate warmth from his spot in the sterile room, and Castiel wished he could lean up and hug him. It seemed like a grueling exertion, even without all the tubes and risk of infection to deal with. "I am… very tired and feeling foolish. I was lucky that, in my altered state, I managed to get in touch with Charlie."

Dean raised a hand, as though to rub his masked face, before flexing it and putting it back in his lap. "She called me that night."

"She did?" Castiel hacked as something caught in his chest, wincing at the pain in his ribs.

"You don't have to talk," Dean stressed. "Just… let me do the rambling. …She was pretty upset. You scared the hell out of her, you know."

Castiel groaned and nodded, spending a moment concentrating on pulling oxygen in through his nose, trying to slow down the beat pulsing in his neck.

Dean turned to watch the numbers on the monitor above his head. "I should have known that cough didn't sound right… had been going on too long. I dunno, looking back, you having to text instead of call should have been a giant red flag."

Castiel went to speak, then rolled his eyes as Dean fixed him with a stern frown. He stared into Dean's face, challenging him to hold a one-sided conversation.

"You know… she wasn't the only one who got the hell scared out of 'em." Dean's eyes cast down to the floor before moving back to Castiel's face. "You… you just gotta take care of yourself better, okay?"

"You can't talk," Castiel bit out. The shock of Dean's story about nearly falling to his death a week or so ago was still fresh in his memory.

Dean blinked, looked off toward the wall. When he turned back, Castiel saw his eyes were watering. "Yeah," he breathed, "guess I can't… That was… You…" He looked up at the ceiling, seemed to take a moment to regroup. "Listen, I'm not good at this stuff… You, Castiel Novak… are my person. So how about we both try not to get ourselves killed for the foreseeable future."

Castiel studied his eyes. Dean was toeing the line that neither of them dared to cross. His tone held all the feeling of a declaration; the words rang with importance despite being so vague that Dean could have meant just about anything.

Dean must have noticed his confusion because he cleared his throat, swallowed, tried to go farther, "Cas, I… I mean, you…" He took a deep breath, working up to something.

"Dean, don't," Castiel said quietly. "Don't force it." What he suspected Dean was trying to say… he didn't want to hear it spoken out of fear, in a hospital room. "…There's time."

Dean looked pained. "I am… really shit at this stuff," he whispered.

"I won't lie." Castiel spoke slowly to avoid another coughing fit. "I want to hear… so many things from you. I will always want to know the things you feel you can't tell me. I will wait, hope you can, someday… But I want those things when you are ready. If that is never… I will still wait."

Dean had been watching him, blinking fiercely. "That… It's just going to keep coming up between us, isn't it…" He sighed, looking down at the edge of the bed and shaking his head. After a few breaths, he spoke without raising his eyes. "Cas… I have a story I've been wanting to tell you, but it can't go beyond these walls. Not Charlie, not Sam… not ever. …Okay?"

Castiel nodded, making the oxygen line pull at his nose, then, realizing Dean wasn't looking, murmured, "Of course."

Dean was silent for a long time. Castiel almost spoke up again, told him he didn't have to… but curiosity burned stronger in that moment than empathy. Finally, Dean took a glance over his shoulder, as though making sure no one was eavesdropping, and began speaking.

"When we were kids… our dad was our hero. He was a mechanic—used to think there was nothing he couldn't fix—and he loved the woods. He'd spend all weekend hiking us around, or taking us fishing or hunting… Sam always hated hunting, but he'd be rarin' to go anyway… Our dad wasn't always easy on us… but that never seemed to matter, back then. We just wanted to be with him. The three Winchester boys.

"He died a month after I turned eleven—heart attack." Dean swallowed, tilted his head. "After that… things were tough. I tried to step up, be the man of the house, take care of Sammy while Mom was working as many shifts as she could get at the factory, get a job and help out when I got old enough… I tried to fill his shoes. Did it for near twenty years. …It wasn't wasted. Got Sam through school. Made sure Mom paid off the house.

"Six years ago, there's this knock at the door, and there's this twenty-year-old kid standing on her steps. Says his name is Adam and that he's looking for John Winchester. …That he came there looking for his father." Dean stopped, slowly exhaled, then shook his head, bringing up a hand to rub at the back of his neck before continuing.

"Turns out my dad had been seeing some lady up in Minnesota for years off and on, I guess some of the times he said he was going on hunting trips. Doing the math, he had to have been seeing her just about up to the day he died. I… didn't take it well. I didn't run the kid off the property with a gun or anything, but I made it clear that John Winchester was dead and gone and there wasn't anything there for him. Sent him on his way. And, after that… I got angry. Really, really angry. Didn't want anything to do with anything that reminded me of my dad, hunting included. Could barely even look at Sam and Mom half the time because they just kept asking me what was wrong… I quit my job at the garage and started traveling more as a way to keep away. I stayed that way for a good, long while."

"I'm so sorry, Dean," Castiel whispered, seeing the anguish in Dean's eyes as he relived the memory.

Dean bowed his head and laced his fingers together. "That's not all… Adam—Adam's dead now. I found out a couple of weeks ago. It was a car crash—a DUI." He breathed in deep and let it out slowly, shakily. "I read the obituary online, did some searching around after. In the writeup, there wasn't any 'survived by', you know, people left behind. There was just this note, that his mom had gone before him, cancer, in 2011. …That would have been the year he showed up in Kansas.

"The kid came out there looking for something to hold onto. And I just… sent him away. I was so damn scared that my mom would find out. My dad… he was her world, and when he died… there was something else that died too. Yeah, she had to work a lot, but even when she was there, it was like we only had part of her. There was mom before… and mom after.

"You know, I remember thinking I would rather die than let her or Sam spend one minute thinking they were ever worth anything less than every last bit of John Winchester's time and effort… but it's Adam who's dead now. I screwed up, Cas. He was just about to turn twenty-seven, and he had no one. And that's on me. I'm gonna to have to live with that."

When Dean raised his face, Castiel saw that his eyes were wet. There were a good number of things that fell into place all at once… The destruction of the homestead and the end of innocence in Salvation Ridge, the avalanche wreaking havoc and the devastating secrets that ruined relationships in North Aspect… It was all Dean. Dean's life. It felt so real because he was writing what he knew firsthand. Castiel now understood the fury had led a man to walk away from his own career and reshape himself. And he had done it alone, shouldered the weight of that knowledge alone. And then, Adam, to feel that he was somehow responsible…

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

All the things Castiel could think of to say fell short. Instead, he stretched out his hand toward Dean, reflexively offering it before he remembered that it was currently occupied by an IV needle. Dean didn't hesitate though. He reached back and slid his hand, palm up, underneath to allow Castiel to grasp it. Dean's skin was rough but warm against Castiel's cold fingers. They sat that way in silence for a long time. For Castiel, the whir of the monitors and the beeps and bustle of the hospital outside faded away.

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It ended up being three more days before Castiel was allowed to go home. Dean, Charlie, and Gabriel swapped out spending time with him as he got back his strength, but the doctor warned him he was facing weeks out of work and a long recovery. The prescription for an at-home oxygen canister brought that reality home to him, as did the fact that getting dressed and moving back and forth to the bathroom in the small room left him winded. Gabriel rode from the hospital with him in an Uber.

His living room looked clean, although he was certain it had been littered with takeout containers and tissues when he was last home. A humidifier was running there, and another in his bedroom. Charlie and Dean had stocked his kitchen with endless teas, bottled sports drinks, and cans of soup, as well as picked up medications from the pharmacy. Kevin brought several stacks of books and a few printouts of tips to ease pneumonia recovery. There was a laptop set up with the company login and VPN, for when he started feeling bored enough to work from home.

For two more days after that, Dean hung around Castiel's apartment during the daytime hours, with Charlie, Gabriel, and even Kevin stopping by for periods when they could get free from work. They mostly read and watched movies together; even though Castiel was starting to nap less during the daytime, talking still triggered coughing fits after a while. The afternoon of the second day, Castiel turned to Dean, who was seated next to him on the couch while Back to the Future Part II played on the television. The side of Dean's face that was toward Castiel still sported a green and brown bruise and the scar of a cut that was healing up from his misadventure at Glacier National Park.

"You're going to have to head back to Kansas soon," Castiel said bluntly. He'd been thinking about it the past few hours; it was nearly October.

Dean's expression went guarded as he turned from watching the movie.

Castiel tilted his head and met Dean's gaze with a sigh. "It's not that I want you to leave, Dean… but I know how important this time of year is for your guide business. You've been talking about the migration season since the beginning of summer. I don't know how many jobs you have cancelled, being away for nine days, but it can't go on forever."

Dean exhaled audibly through his nose, letting out a slow breath. "I just want to make sure you're all set, Cas…"

"I'm as set as I'm going to be for several weeks," Castiel pointed out. "Charlie lives only ten or fifteen minutes away on foot."

"I could run it in five or so, if i had to…"

Dean had been staying with Charlie, apparently since arrival. Castiel had offered use of his apartment, but Dean had refused, saying he didn't want to add the burden of a guest. It seemed to Castiel there might be more to it than that. Dean, when he visited, was constantly hovering nearby, always conscious of keeping the items Castiel might need within his reach and asking him if he wanted drinks or food or any number of other things… but he also was very careful to keep a set amount of space between them, even though Castiel, at points, had wanted nothing more than to drift a bit closer. Castiel had started making a game of it, seeing how far he could inch in before Dean readjusted and restored the status quo he had set. There was definitely a line that Dean wouldn't allow him to cross.

"I believe we are outside the possibility that I will have a relapse. I have my antibiotics and inhalers. Now, it's just regaining my lung capacity and energy. If you tried to stay until I was completely back to normal, you could very well be here until winter."

"…Maybe I could come back, after end of season… if you'd want that."

"…Maybe by then, I could visit you instead."

"The air is certainly better for you out there…"

Dean was gone by the next evening on the two-day trip home by train. Castiel was left with an empty spot on his couch and an unmistakable longing for companionship. He got used to fetching his own tea and started catching up on his email, filling the hours from one phone call to the next.

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It took another week or so of constant calls and impromptu visits for it all to begin wearing on Castiel's nerves. The fifth night Charlie showed up at his door with soup after work because she was 'in the area', Castiel retorted, "You live three blocks from here, Charlie. You're always in the area." She looked so sheepish that he suppressed the urge to threaten to ban her from his apartment.

The next night, it was Gabriel who stopped by. He at least texted Castiel first, although he ignored Castiel's insistence that he didn't need checking up on.

"I wish you all would stop acting as though you were responsible for my illness by somehow failing to provide appropriate supervision," he complained as he let his cousin into the apartment. "If there is soup in that bag, I promise you, I will pour it down the drain."

"Grilled chicken salads. Nice to see you're feeling better, cuz. You manage to walk to the elevators yet without needing a breather?"

Castiel had just stopped using his oxygen tank, and even getting up to open the door seemed like a hike. He huffed and let Gabriel set up the food on the kitchen table, getting some glasses of water and sitting down to eat with him. The crunchy rings of bell pepper in the salad seemed incredibly appetizing after so much soft food, so he picked them out first and pushed the chicken aside for later while Gabriel talked about upcoming projects at work. Although he'd shifted assignments around to lighten Castiel's load, there were a few books he wanted his cousin to handle personally.

"...as long as you're feeling up to it." He scanned Castiel's face, scrutinizing.

Castiel knew that, although he certainly had some color back, he still looked worn down. At least he was clean and dressed today; he considered every shower taken a small victory. "I started looking at the Lee piece yesterday already. I see no reason I can't start working from home more regularly next week."

Gabriel continued watching Castiel's face thoughtfully while he chewed a few bites of his salad, keeping his own expression blank.

"What?" Castiel asked eventually, even though he knew that was exactly what Gabriel was waiting for.

Gabriel had to gall to stare a minute longer before setting down his fork and steepling his hands in front of him, an action that made Castiel roll his eyes and set down his own utensil.

"What, Gabriel," he growled, squinting at him.

"When were you going to tell me how serious things were getting between you and Dean Winchester?"

Castiel blinked, thrown off track. "...Things are not that serious," he replied, an automatic denial. Things were… he didn't know what. He wasn't ready to try to impose a label on it.

Gabriel's gaze took on an edge, his mouth dropping into a displeased line. "Cassie, the man flew in at the drop of a hat and spent ten days crammed on Charlie's couch for you. Tell me in what universe that is 'not that serious'."

Castiel sighed, annoyed. "You already told me your opinion on the matter," he snapped. "I didn't see the point in bringing it up for rehashing."

"Okay, yes," Gabriel conceded with an eye roll, "I didn't think it was a good idea in the beginning… but that was before you apparently started a long distance relationship with him and then took a week-long road trip together, which I assume was some sort of trial run for sex… and which I honestly thought had failed until n—"

"Gabriel," Castiel cut in, glaring. "It most certainly was not."

Gabriel's eyebrows went up in disbelief, but after a moment of reading Castiel's face, confusion flickered in his expression.

Castiel didn't feel as though he had the patience for yet another discussion with his cousin about how his asexuality worked. He rewound the conversation back a bit in his head, redirected. "Dean… flew here?"

"Hmm, yeah. I thought the guy must have a fear of flying, the way that got written into his contract, but maybe he's just eccentric about modes of transportation… He was here by the next morning. In the same boat as Charlie—they couldn't get into the ICU—but at least he helped keep her calm, got her to go home and sleep for a bit…"

Castiel suddenly felt guilty about the way he had dismissed Charlie the day before. "She must have been terrified…"

"Oh, she was," Gabriel confirmed blithely, "but she also got you to the hospital, filled out paperwork and held it together until I could get there…" He nodded to himself. "I owe her a debt… as do you."

"I know it…"

There was a moment of somber silence before Gabriel pushed the discussion back in its original direction. "So, Dean…"

Castiel inhaled and tilted up his chin, regarding his cousin evenly.

"...I just want to know if I should start paving the way for you to go remote on a more permanent basis…?"

That made Castiel go still as he grasped the suggestion. It wasn't as though his own mind hadn't been churning over that territory. "…I don't have an answer to that," he slowly replied.

As Gabriel came back into focus, he thought he saw sadness in his cousin's gaze, but the impression was gone a second later. "Well, you're going to be out of the office a while longer anyway. I don't see you making the trek down to Midtown and back any time soon. Let me know if you need anything else to work from home…"

After dinner, Gabriel helped clean up before leaving—watching his cousin take out his trash for him in his office suit bordered on the absurd and Castiel regretted being unable to come up with a mocking remark suitable to the occasion. When Dean called later, Castiel let the phone ring for a few breaths, mind turning over the distance bridged by the connection, before picking up and listening to Dean talk about his day out on the prairie, how the fields were beginning to turn gold as the Little Bluestem grass feathered out, how they would soon be baiting the bison into corral for annual data collection and culling. He wondered after he hung up if everything had changed, if nothing could stay the same.

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"You sure you're ready for this?" Charlie asked for about the twentieth time. It was three weeks after his hospital discharge, and they were taking the short walk to Morn's for Trivia Tuesday.

"Yes, I am." Castiel was more than ready to start getting out of his apartment. If it went poorly, he would simply have to take an Uber home in shame and try again the next week.

"Okay, because if you get too tired, I can—"

"—Charlie, I am fine."

"Just saying, the air is cold and damp. Maybe you should have worn a sc—"

"—Next time, I will call Kevin." Irritation crept into Castiel's voice. He had already gotten into a short argument over the phone with Dean about wearing scarves in New York City in October. It was nearly 60 degrees out. Nurses Bradbury and Winchester, as he had taken to referring to them in his mind, could retire any day, as far as he was concerned. He had texted Sam out of frustration after, asking if there was a way to deactivate his brother's caretaker instincts once activated. Sam's reply: Ahahaha, GOOD LUCK. Mom-mode Dean is scarier than our actual mom.

"Will you please stop acting like this isn't a big deal?" Charlie hissed. "It's a big deal!"

Castiel took a deep breath in and out, trying to find a deeper well of patience. His chest still felt tight, even after all these weeks, but he wasn't panting for breath after a few blocks, which was a vast improvement. "I need to start moving around more, or I'll never regain my strength," he argued. "I have my emergency inhaler with me. We're going to be fine."

"Okay, okay," she muttered, mostly to herself.

They made it without disaster striking and set themselves up front, on the wall farthest from the bar. Charlie got herself a drink and Castiel a water and put in an order for fries and fresh spring rolls. Castiel had a newly discovered craving for all things fruit and vegetable. He wasn't certain if it was his immune system demanding nutrients or the fact that anything salty or dehydrating made his throat start to feel clogged, but his only indulgence as of late had been a cup of coffee or two each morning. As they waited for Kevin to arrive, Charlie chattered about work and then the new and old Blade Runner movies. She was comparing the very close scope of the original with the massive reality of the sequel, trying to illustrate the sweeping, techno-noir city with her hands, when Gabriel's words echoed back to him. "I owe her a debt… as do you."

Castiel waited until she had reached a stopping point and was taking a sip of her drink before clearing his throat. "Charlie… I know that I'm being far too short with you lately," he told her. "I'm sorry… It's not really fair of me to be so dismissive when I've given you reason to be concerned in the past. You have my apologies. I'm going to try harder not to be so reactive."

"Thanks, I appreciate that…" She squinted at him. "...But I'm pretty sure that's not what's really bothering you."

Castiel narrowed his eyes right back at her. She was equal parts empath and busybody… "You probably wouldn't need too many guesss to figure that out, Charlie."

She smirked and glanced up at the ceiling briefly. "No, not many at all… If there's anything you want to talk over or need help working out though, I'm still your friend… even if I am, like, crazy paranoid about people smoking on the street near your apartment building now."

Castiel smiled to himself, remembering the murderous way Charlie had glared at a few people who were standing too close to their path on the way over. "You are one of the best friends I have ever had, Charlie."

She smiled at him, then complained, "Don't get all mushy on me, Novak."

He gave her a thin smirk and sighed. Her offer to listen, as always, was a timely one. "Things are different since… well, since Dean came out here. I feel as though I've reached the point where I have to choose between taking it a step farther… or stepping back."

Charlie nodded, as though she'd suspected as much. "He was really… intense when he was here? Weirdly helpful, like he knew all these random facts about what was good for chest colds and stuff. But also, I was afraid he and Gabriel were, like, going to get into a fight over what humidifier to buy you? I dunno."

"I'm not sure I ever thanked you for letting him stay with you all that time…"

"Psshh. Please, Novak, mi casa es su casa. Not sure why my couch ended up being the sleeping spot of choice, but happy to help out a friend." She paused and sipped at her drink. "So, what 'next step' are you considering?"

"The fact that we live so far apart seems problematic… Everything isn't so much a step as it is a giant leap."

"Why don't you just go out for a visit? You know, when his busy period is done, and your lungs aren't threatening to rebel against air, just spend some time together…"

"...And stay alone together at his house?" Castiel felt hesitant about the prospect.

"Dude, what are you worried about? He didn't try anything when you were sharing motel rooms for like a week on your vacation. Pretty sure he knows we would all excommunicate him if he did anything to make you feel weird, too."

So far, Dean had been respectful of Castiel's personal space… almost to excess, really. Castiel flashed back to the hours they spent in his apartment, how Dean had unmistakably repositioned himself when Castiel pushed too close. But when Castiel had hugged him at the airport that once, he had leaned in and relaxed slightly, not the way someone would react if they were touch averse. It intrigued Castiel… but giving into the temptation to explore that also meant a crossing into new territory. Perhaps it was just Castiel's own reservations at play, expecting everything to go the same way it had in his previous relationships, where a partner respected the boundaries he set for them until, suddenly, they didn't. "You're right, of course… He's given me no reason to think that he would do anything untoward."

"I know I am. He's good people." She looked up and raised her voice. "And if he isn't… Kevin knows how to hide a body, right?"

"I do," Kevin declared, taking a seat next to Castiel. "Who are we disposing of?"

"Dean." She looked up and tilted her head side to side. "Maybe."

Kevin shook his head. "Nope, sorry, I'm out. I'm not facing off against Sam. But, for the record," he turned to look at Castiel, "he and I agree that you two need to get over yourselves."

"I preferred it when I thought it was only in my imagination that you all were discussing my personal life…" Castiel put a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes for a moment, rubbing to relieve some of the tension.

"Isn't it wonderful, having friends…?" Kevin asked, leaning down his head and giving Castiel a look of exaggerated compassion when he finally opened his eyes.

Castiel was very grateful when the trivia announcer stood up and stopped any further conversation.