Castiel was deep into an edit when Gabriel sauntered into his office, spreading out his arms as he approached the desk.

"Hail to the king, baby!"

When Castiel held up a finger to indicate that he needed a moment, his cousin dropped his arms to his sides with a slap and let out an annoyed exhale. Castiel tried to finish the paragraph he was on and jot down a few notes, but he was distracted by a cascade of falling paper. Looking up, he found that Gabriel had pushed the stack of printouts from his extra chair onto the floor. The older man threw himself into the now empty seat, crossing his legs and leaning back with his hands gripping the armrests. He raised an eyebrow at Castiel, mouth flat.

Castiel sighed and gave up trying to work; he'd have to figure out what he had been doing later. He wheeled out from behind his monitor and stared at his cousin. "Fine. What have you done to crown yourself today, Gabriel?"

"That's King Gabriel… who got the final approval to purchase Dean Winchester's latest and just got off the phone with his agent. We'll have the paperwork done by end of week. This ugly baby is now yours!" He finger-gunned toward Castiel's desk for emphasis.

"My hero," Castiel deadpanned, unwilling to feed Gabriel's ego. But even as he forced his face and voice to remain equally blank, something flipped in his chest in excitement.

"Hey, show some gratitude." Gabriel glared at him, indignant. "This was no easy feat. If it weren't for my killer pitch and that witchcraft Rowena did with the sales projections, this would have been a nonstarter."

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Very well. Thank you, Gabriel."

Gabriel gave him a pleased grin, but it had a vindictive edge. "Ha, don't thank me yet. You haven't met the guy."

"...What's he like?"

"Looks like some model straight off the pages of a cowboy wholesale catalog. Gruff. Pugnacious. Talks more like a farm hand than a writer. If I didn't recognize him from when Singer showed him around a few years ago, I wouldn't believe he was the guy who wrote this."

Castiel tried to resolve the rough image Gabriel was rendering with the rich, glowing prose of the two works he'd read. "...Did you talk to him about the edits? How did he receive that?"

Gabriel cocked an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "I wouldn't say he was overjoyed, cuz. You're going to have fun."

Castiel frowned, concerned. Trying to work with a writer who didn't want to change anything was always difficult, and he'd hate to have to wave the publishing contract in Dean Winchester's face.

Gabriel gave Castiel a long look, then tipped his head down. "The way he said a few things… Bobby Singer did a lot of work with him. Got him trained. You're going to have to get past that somehow."

Castiel stared at the far wall, not having any immediate ideas. If Winchester and Singer had a close collaborative relationship, Castiel wouldn't have the sort of trust going in as a new editor to convince Dean to throw all that advice out the window.

"Well, hey," Gabriel said as he pushed himself up out of the chair, "just remember, when the going gets really tough… You brought it upon yourself!" He clapped his hands and gave Castiel a mock earnest nod. "Now, better start prepping to introduce yourself to your new star author," he commanded before walking from the room.

Castiel rolled his eyes when he was certain Gabriel could no longer see him. His cousin's snide comments were made to get a rise out of people; the unhealthy ways the Shurley siblings interacted sometimes threatened to bleed over into their friendship. Castiel mostly found it effective to sidestep the behavior entirely and pick up the conversation again when his cousin was in a different mood.

He did have to figure out the best way to approach Dean Winchester though. He needed a way to diffuse any animosity Winchester felt, and he wasn't exactly a "people person". Asking Gabriel was off the table. …He needed help. Castiel shuffled his mouse to power the computer monitor back on and opened up his email.

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"Hey, did you hear the news?"

Charlie pounced on Castiel a while later, scooting in with a container of reheated Thai takeout and sitting in the unoccupied extra chair. Her bright red t-shirt had a picture of a cartoon cat flopped onto an open book with the words, This is my happy place.

Castiel didn't have to guess what news she meant. "Yes, Gabriel came by earlier." His eyes flicked over the pages that littered the floor around where Charlie sat before settling on the container and chopsticks in her hands. Was it lunch already?

"So, this is great, right? I already started looking at his social media feeds last week. Guy is out there building the adventure image, like, all the time. And, even better, he shares a lot of environmental concern stuff. I think we've got a lot to work with." Charlie spoke fast, jamming in noodles between sentences and gulping them down.

Castiel didn't want to dim her enthusiasm; he decided to avoid burdening her with his worries about Dean Winchester's level of cooperation for now. "Gabriel said I should prepare to introduce myself as soon as the contracts are signed."

"Awesome. Ooo, you could do a video intro," she suggested. She knew how much Castiel hated virtual meetings.

Castiel imagined how awkward it would be to try to record a message to someone he hadn't met and grimaced. It was bad enough leaving voicemails for people, nevermind adding a visual component. "I thought I would open with an email."

Charlie wobbled her head, seeing his point. "Well, tell him what you told me, you know, when you read his manuscript. Before you go all uber-editor on him."

"...I realized I don't really know much about him… how to talk to him," Castiel admitted to her.

Charlie shrugged. "He's a writer, but he's also just a person, Novak. Just talk to him the way you would anyone else."

Castiel thought of his track record with people outside Charlie and Gabriel and wasn't sure that was the best plan.

Cocking her head toward the floor, Charlie reached down to pick up a few pages from the pile. "Hey, is this the latest edit of the scifi thing?"

"I just sent another round of feedback last week, so yes, for now."

She pulled a pleading pout and waved the papers under her chin like a fan.

He sighed. "All right. Most of the major plot points are solidified, but no quoting from it yet."

Charlie beamed at him. "Thanks! Gotta run, but keep me posted on how it goes with Winchester. I'm not allowed to bug him until we do the first meetup in person…"

She spent a few moments gathering up all the relevant pages from the mess on the floor and doublechecked her stack before waving fingers at him and heading back to her floor.

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When his office phone rang that afternoon, Castiel blinked at it for a minute, unable to figure out who would be calling him. The number that came up wasn't familiar. He debated letting it go to voicemail but finally decided he'd better answer, even if it turned out to be some random telemarketer.

"Hello?"

"Castiel Novak? This is Bobby Singer."

Castiel thought of that morning's email; he hadn't expected a phone call in return. "Mr. Singer. I wasn't expecting a phone call." Castiel winced at that opening and tried again. "Thank you for getting back to me."

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

"So, you're looking for intel on Dean Winchester, huh? Was surprised to find out that Gabriel Shurley had gotten dibs on his latest. Thought my clients were going to Zach Adler."

"Uh, they did. Adler passed… but we thought it was worth pursuing."

There was a dead silence on the other end.

"...Mr. Singer?" Castiel asked, thinking the call had dropped. The retired editor was somewhere out in the Dakotas now; who knew what the service reliability was.

"Yeah, still here. Winchester is a good man. A good writer. Writes the world like he sees it, and he pays attention."

"I could see that in his draft. The imagery, the character dialogue… it feels very authentic." He tried to think about how to ask his questions without revealing to Singer what sort of rewrites they were asking for. He wasn't sure Singer would approve of their plan to shift the book into other markets. "Any tips for working with him? It's going to be an adjustment for both of us."

Singer laughed, a sharp bark. "Wilderness novels don't really seem like your usual thing, so you're probably right." There was a pause before the man spoke again. "He comes off at first like small town, blue collar or farm boy... but don't underestimate him. If you need him to change something, have a good reason and explain it to him. You give him the hard facts, he'll do what he has to do. And be straight with him. You try to lie and or talk around something, he'll know it. Like I said, he pays attention. He's got a sharp eye for people."

Castiel added Singer's impressions to what he had already gotten from Gabriel. Dean Winchester was starting to take shape in his mind. "Thank you, Mr. Singer. I just want this next release to go well."

There was a reserved hum over the line. "...You want to tell me what Gabriel Shurley really wants with this novel?"

"I… think that is something you should ask Gabriel," Castiel contended. He didn't know enough about the politics to determine what he should reveal to the ex-editor.

Singer snorted. "Smooth as a porcupine. I think you'll be just fine, Novak."

He hung up, leaving Castiel to look at the phone in his hand for a long moment before finally resetting it into its cradle.

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By the following week, Dean Winchester and his agent had all the necessary paperwork finalized, but it took Castiel two more days to finish crafting his first email to the author. He tried to compliment Winchester's work on Salvation Ridge and the aspects of the new manuscript he'd enjoyed, and he asked if there were earlier drafts before editing that he might be able to obtain before they discussed changes.

After sending the email on Thursday morning, he spent the rest of that day and all of Friday glancing at his inbox. When there still wasn't a reply by Monday, Castiel reread the mail in his Sent folder, triple-checking the email address and its content. Nothing in it seemed as though it could have offended the author.

How many business days does one wait for a reply before sending a follow-up? he wondered.

He tried to shove the unease aside and work on his other clients, but around midmorning, there was an unexpected knock on his office door. He glared at it in suspicion. Gabriel and Charlie never bothered to knock. Whoever was on the other side apparently got tired of waiting for an invitation, because the knob turned, and the door swung in.

"Hellooo," Rowena cooed, peeking around it and batting her eyes when she noticed the desk was occupied.

Castiel stared at her, and at her purple and green patterned power suit, for a beat too long before remembering she was a senior employee and dusting off his manners. "Rowena. What brings you down here?"

She entered his office and closed the door, then gracefully crossed over to stand to one side of his desk. "I just thought I would get your first impressions of our dear Mr. Winchester. I'm sure by now you've gotten a chance to speak with him." She leaned forward, clasping her hands in front of her stomach, and gave him an encouraging look.

Castiel's mouth twisted. "Actually, he hasn't replied to the email I sent last Thursday yet."

"Really? How odd…" She raised her eyebrows and lifted a finger. "Maybe he is one of those people who prefers direct contact. It isn't too early to do a follow-up call."

At the word 'call', Castiel felt his face crunch into a frown. He tried to smooth it out, but from the way one of Rowena's manicured eyebrows twitched, he wasn't fast enough.

"In my experience, Castiel, some individuals need a bit of a push." She arched the one brow higher, tilting her head, and her gaze became more pointed.

He sighed. "I'll call him today."

"Good!" She beamed at him. "You get in touch with him, and be sure to let me know what you think. The man doesn't post much about himself on a personal level, no videos or anything… I want to see what type of personality we're going to be dealing with."

Castiel nodded, and watched as Rowena sashayed out. She was almost theatrical when closing the door, giving Castiel a last wave before slowly pulling it shut, careful to not even let the doorknob latch too loudly.

Feeling vexed by all the day's activity, Castiel procrastinated for another hour after Rowena left, using the excuse that he should wrap up the chapters he was working on, before finally digging through his files for the contact information he needed. He dialed Dean Winchester's number in a mixture of annoyance and anxiety, trying to predict how the conversation would unfold as the line rang and rang and then fell anticlimactically into voicemail. Fumbling a bit for the right words, he managed to leave a message requesting an email reply and hung up.

Now… How long do I wait? And what do I do if he still doesn't contact me?

Luckily, it didn't get to that point. A few hours later, his desk phone rang for the second time in a year, once again jarring him out of his work and making his heart jump for a moment before he managed to gather up his thoughts and answer politely.

A low, slightly hoarse voice came across the line. "Hi, Mr. Novak? This is Dean Winchester."

Castiel locked onto the direct and clipped phrasing, trying to get a feel for the man and his disposition. "Ah, thank you for returning my call. Please, call me Castiel."

"All right… Castiel. I got a chance to read over your email finally. Sorry, my brother moved in last week, and it's been a bit crazy around here trying to get him settled."

"Ah…"

When Castiel didn't immediately continue, thrown off by the foray into his personal life, Winchester spoke again, bringing the conversation back on track. "I know you'd asked about earlier drafts… but those are really rough, a lot of bits and piecemeal rewrites. Can we just talk through some of the earlier versions maybe?"

"Of course, Mr. Winchester."

"Dean's just fine. So, on your question about the various characters…"

Castiel listened as Dean outlined things he'd cut or changed from the earlier drafts. Castiel had been right; several side characters had been simplified or eliminated. There were subplots that had been removed to keep the central story line moving faster, some more introspective segments eliminated in favor of keeping the action and suspense ramped up. He asked several related questions, trying to dig deeper, and while Dean was at first very cooperative, after about ten minutes of back and forth, Castiel started to sense their exchange becoming more contentious.

"Listen," Dean finally said, "your boss was pretty vague about what he wanted this to turn into. I originally wrote a survivalist action piece, but he said you saw something more in it. But if I don't get a feel for what you want, it's going to be hard for me to make the right changes."

Castiel paused and tried to find the proper phrasing. He suddenly pictured Charlie across from him. What would he say if he were explaining it to her?

"All right. You know how there are plot-driven stories and character-driven stories?"

"Sure."

"We want more about the characters. The plot is solid, but it should be a vehicle for learning about these characters, these people—their lives, and their relationships, and their motivations. Instead of cutting all that out, I want you to bring it back in. I want to see everything you've ever thought about these people, everything you've ever imagined outside the events they are living through in this book. Once I know that, I feel as though we'll be able to find the core themes, that thing that readers can take home from this novel."

There was a very long silence after Castiel finished, and he wondered if he'd gone too "uber-editor".

"...Do you really think people are going to want to read about that?" Dean asked.

Castiel was struck by the softer tone, the uncertainty. He wanted to call back Bobby Singer and shout at the man. Dean Winchester was hacking the soul of his story into pieces, trying to force it into a box because someone had made him feel that it wasn't worth telling in its entirety.

"There are many types of books in this world, Dean. I have faith that people will read stories in which the author speaks their truth… about life and humanity."

"Huh." There was an awkward pause, and Castiel was trying to figure out what to say when Dean spoke again. "Well, it's going to take me a little while to go through all my old notebooks. How much do you want me to polish?"

Castiel considered how to best go about the first rewrite. "Why don't you just send me what you have with any notes you think are necessary to connect to points in the current manuscript? Then, we can decide what's worth exploring."

They agreed to touch base in a week and closed the call.

Castiel sat staring at his office walls for quite a while after, replaying bits of the conversation in his head, bothered by something. The way Dean had described certain things he had written, playing them off as useless to the story or excessive or distracting, downplaying and redirecting any time Castiel tried to compliment part of the draft…

Singer and Gabriel both had been right about one thing—Dean Winchester came across as something less than what he was. Castiel felt the same way about his conversation with Dean as he had about Winchester's works. He was not seeing the full picture. Parts had been purposefully edited out.

He shook his head, setting aside his puzzlement for the time being. He had other things to attend to. After glancing around the quiet office, eyeing the phone and the door, almost daring the universe to send yet another interruption his way, he opened up one of the files on his to-do list and got back to work.