It took Castiel a week and a half to give the Winchester draft a serious look and its first real edit—a remarkably rapid turnaround that was mostly due to the fact that Castiel was working on it in his personal time. Up to that point, they had mostly been pulling in more background, increasing the detail and depth. Now, it was time to cut away the excess to really make the story and its themes shine. What Castiel found, when he stepped back, was a narrative in which a group of friends under duress discover truths about themselves and each other. Several themes flowed through the work—the question of how well one person can really know another, the power of nature to strip away deceptions and bring clarity, the inevitability of artifice disintegrating. One of the more interesting symbolisms in the book, one Castiel wasn't sure Dean had done consciously, was the parallel between the disaster of the avalanche and the hidden emotions and lies crashing down on the unsuspecting travellers. Like Salvation Ridge, the natural world was a powerful influence on the characters and also a mirror, reflecting their own inner struggles.

This new phase of editing had the side effect of putting him in the driver's seat as far as communication between editor and author. He'd sent Dean a few encouraging comments via text message, but the responses he'd received had been short, almost disinterested. After weeks of constant back and forth, the trickle of communication was a deafening silence. Castiel at first thought it was just Dean's outside jobs taking priority, but this was starting to feel like something more. Dean had sent a brusque message indicating that he would be out of communication totally for several days, which left Castiel in a vacuum, without the option of asking Dean what was going on.

It bothered him, and it bothered him even more that he wasn't sure why it bothered him. Ebb and flow in his communication with clients was part of the job. He would often go months between speaking with certain authors as their works waited in various queues or they worked on rewrites. But somehow, he'd gotten used to Dean's random messages throughout the day. He found himself scanning his message history, reflecting on how disjointed the conversation sounded without the context of just having written the emails to which they referred. He would reach for his phone to check for new messages only to be met with disappointment. It was a nagging feeling he'd forgotten something as he tried to work on all his other projects, a silent evening at home without a single notification to interrupt his reading.

Castiel sent Gabriel the first cut of the new manuscript. It wasn't something he normally bothered doing, but it felt right in this case. He was the one who had sold the shape of this story to his cousin, and now that it was solidifying, he wanted him to have ample time to assess and strategize. It took a few days, but Gabriel wandered into Castiel's office one morning with a thick printout in his hand and a troubled expression replacing his normally sanguine aspect. Castiel looked up and stopped typing, taken aback.

"What is it?" he demanded.

"Cassie, this is… Wow. How did you even know he could write this?"

Castiel kept staring at Gabriel, having difficulty determining what the emotion was. Disappointment? Regret?

"I mean, hell, if I'd known, I would have pushed for a hardcover," Gabriel continued. "Not that I would have been able to get it, but—"

"—Hardcover?"

Gabriel waved the stack of pages. "This isn't some action-crossover-queer genre book. This is… like John Updike meets Barbara Kingsolver… maybe a pinch more Jack London. This has the smell of a bestseller. I mean, we need to go to town on this thing. I'm going to make Adler tear what's left of his hair out!"

Castiel blinked at him. "So, I take it you're 'on board', as they say…"

"Of course I'm on board." Gabriel glared at him, then at the wall in distraction. "It sort of blows what I had thought we were going to be selling right out of the water, but man, if we can get this positioned right… Ug, we need to get this guy here, let Rowena and Charlie get a feel for him. And we need to rework those numbers, see if we can swing a trade paperback. Seriously, what—what did you do to this man?"

At first, Castiel thought it was a rhetorical question, but Gabriel actually seemed to be waiting for an answer. Castiel shrugged and shook his head. "...I just gave him permission to write."

The look Gabriel gave him was almost suspicious. Castiel wondered if his cousin had actually read Salvation Ridge—if anyone had, really.

The next several days crawled. His work was an unending line of titles to move through the house, so Castiel did his best to give each manuscript the attention it needed during office hours. Outside that, his apartment seemed quieter, smaller than usual. He wandered through the streets of Midtown, took buses to the Frick Collection and The Metropolitan, and spent too much time stalking bookstores and reading online book reviews.

When Monday came around again, Gabriel pulled the starter team together—Castiel, Charlie, and Rowena. There would be more staff working on the manuscript, of course, but they were the main people who would guide the project and interact with Dean.

"Okay, I got off the phone with Winchester's agent, Benny Lafitte" Gabriel said when they were all seated in the conference room. "Winchester is just wrapping up some sort of hiking trip, and we have to give him time to drive to New York, so we're scheduled to see them next Friday."

Rowena sat forward, hands on the table. "What, they won't let us fly him out?" she asked. Her lips lifted in disgust. Castiel got the impression she was about to storm out of the meeting and give someone a piece of her mind.

"Well, they probably would not have… But this time, not our fault," Gabriel explained, putting a hand up. "He doesn't fly. It's right in his contract. Believe me, I told the guy to get on a bus for the price he's going to pay to stay overnight and park his car, but Benny was pretty adamant that he would prefer to drive himself." Gabriel tapped at his phone, reading something on the screen. "So, we're going to meet and greet, go over the revised release plan with him and Benny. Rowena, you'll talk a bit about our sales plan. Charlie, the majority of the day is going to be spent with marketing and publicity after that. Ted'll want him to go for a few new headshots to use on event and sales materials, but for the most part, I need you to talk platform with him, start a working relationship. We've got to get him ramping up the social media presence."

"Aye," Rowena interjected, "and he needs to start showing his pretty face in his photos—and videos, if he can get the knack of it—immediately. Everyone loves a majestic nature scene, but it's not going to sell his books."

"Yeah," Charlie agreed, waving her tablet. "He finally posted a picture a few weeks ago, after like years, and jackpot! Right? Like, I'm not straight, and even I think the man is attractive."

Castiel's eyes shifted to one side as he flashed back to the one photograph he'd seen of Dean Winchester, the headshot they had on file from his last release. He'd looked, well, like a lumberjack. Short dark beard, plaid flannel shirt, hair shaggy down to his ears. The picture had been black and white; he hadn't smiled, instead adopting a stoic stare into the distance over the viewer's shoulder that marketing had no doubt thought fit his outdoorsman image.

"You're not kidding," Rowena growled. "The books we could sell with his face alone… The fact that this one is actually fairly good is just icing, really."

Something in Castiel bristled, even though he knew it was Rowena's job to look at every author as a sales tool. He tried to change the subject, looking at Gabriel. "What about me? Is there anything I need to do?"

"I may be the lead contact for his agent, but you're the one who's been working with him, Cass—tiel. I expect you to be walking him around, preferably staying on hand, unless he warms to Charlie real quick."

Castiel usually would have been reluctant to be forced into so much face time, but Gabriel had made it clear from the get go that the three of them would be expected to put in extra effort on this project. And he had to admit that he was curious to meet the man he'd been texting and speaking with for months. He simply nodded to show he understood.

Gabriel's eyebrow twitched, a small gesture that was smoothed out as he moved on to other topics, covering with Rowena and Charlie what people would be brought in on the next phases.

Castiel was gratified to hear that Kevin Tran would be their line editor. Since Charlie had brought him onto their trivia team, Castiel had started paying more attention to his work, and Kevin was extremely thorough. While they were discussing editing, he proposed to the group that they also should have a sensitivity reader or two go over the manuscript. Dean had tried to add diversity to his cast, but he and Castiel both had the same white, male perspective as readers. Gabriel readily agreed and asked him to coordinate. Beyond that, he mostly listened for the rest of the meeting, trying to follow as they discussed sales and marketing strategies.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

He went back to his office, intending to resume normal work, but as he sat at his computer, Rowena and Charlie's comments about Dean floated around the edges of his thoughts, and he finally gave in to the temptation to look up Dean's Facebook page. He barely had to scroll down to find the photo to which they had referred.

A group of five middle-aged, caucasian adults dressed in wide-brimmed hats, vests, and outerwear were gathered around a slightly younger man, smiling. The woman closest to him was stretched up, looping a thick arm over his shoulder. The man himself, in the center of the shot, appeared to be leaning down slightly to let her, his face tipped up to look out from under his hat. It took Castiel a moment to recognize Dean Winchester. For one, he was clean shaven now, barely a hint of stubble on his lip. The toothy grin he was giving the camera transformed his face even more, revealing a set of dimples and making his eyes crinkle around the edges. A spark shot through Castiel and something in his stomach fluttered. They were right; Dean was attractive. And it wasn't just his physical features, although they were extremely symmetrical and well proportioned. It was something in his face—good natured and open with just a hint of shyness and reserve. It might have been the glow of the late day sun across the grassland in the background, but the photograph almost emanated a warmth that Castiel could feel.

He stared for longer than was probably necessary, trying to merge the image of the introspective mountain man he'd been picturing with this lighter, brighter individual. Here, Castiel thought, was an embodiment of those flashes of humor he found in Dean's writing. The celebration of nature that almost amounted to worship, the deep well of human resilience his characters were forced to tap… It all took on a more hopeful tone seeing this portrayal of Dean.

Amazing how one could form an opinion of a man from a single picture that could color all their conversations, only to have it turned on its head by a second photograph.

Next Friday, Castiel would have to guide this man around Elysium, make small talk. An unsmiling, taciturn Dean Winchester he could have handled... He wasn't so certain about a charming Dean Winchester with an amiable disposition. Then again, Dean's interactions with him as of late hadn't been very cordial.

Castiel frowned at his phone for a while, finally deciding another text wouldn't be unwarranted.

11:07 AM

Hello, Dean. Please get in touch when you are back and have spoken to your agent. Thank you.

----------------------------------------

It was the following Monday, just after 9 AM, when Castiel's office phone rang. He picked up after the second ring, vaguely confused.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Castiel. Dean Winchester. You asked me to get in touch?"

Castiel tried to process the tone… flat, bland… Barely sounding like Dean. Put together with the extended wait for a response, Dean calling his office instead of responding via his personal cell phone… Castiel might not always understand people, but he recognized passive aggressive behavior when he saw it. His mouth quirked, and he made a split second decision to handle Dean more like he would handle Gabriel than he would a typical client. "I did. Why have you been avoiding me?"

"Whoa, man," Dean objected. "I've just been away on a trip and busy with jobs. Nothing going on except that."

Castiel glared at the wall. If Dean thought a flimsy excuse like that would deter him… "That is, as you are so fond of saying, 'bullshit'. I can only assume you'll be leaving Kansas soon. I am aware my people skills are not… the best, and I don't have time to do a mental review of everything that happened since we last spoke. I would very much appreciate it if you could just tell me what I did to invoke your ire so I can either explain myself or rectify the situation."

There was an extended silence. Castiel thought Dean was going to get stubborn and double down on his justification, but then he said, "I don't much like being lied to."

"I have never lied to you, Dean." Castiel's nose wrinkled in deeper puzzlement. "What could I even lie to you about?"

"Oh, really?" Dean scoffed. "How about that nice story about being some poor kid raised by a single mom? Come to find out, you're the owner's nephew. Guess you'll just say whatever you need to to get the job done, huh?" There was bitterness in his voice.

"I never said I was poor…" Castiel tilted his head and looked up at the ceiling, considering a moment too late that being pedantic might not be the best approach.

"Oh, well that makes it all better then," Dean retorted. Castiel got the impression of motion in the background, as though Dean were pacing. "You know, when we're having a conversation, and you're telling me a little about yourself, mentioning that you're Gabriel Shurley's cousin, or related to Chuck Shurley, probably oughta be front and center. You were purposely avoiding mentioning it."

Castiel sighed; the accusation was accurate. "Fine. I was avoiding it. …Frankly, I don't like to think about it myself most days." He paused, but Dean seemed to have exhausted his initial burst of anger and didn't interject. "...Nothing I told you was fiction. My father died before I was born, so my mother did raise me alone. I do have many cousins. Gabriel is the only one I speak to much these days, outside awkward small talk at family functions."

Dean didn't respond, but Castiel could hear him breathing, or maybe the sound of wind, in the background, so he knew the man hadn't hung up on him.

He continued, knowing Dean was waiting for an apology. "I am sorry… for not being more forthcoming. My relation to the Shurleys is something of a fraught topic and not something I like to bring up." Something relevant bobbed up from Castiel's memories, sliding in neatly to form a pattern in Dean's behavior. "…Back at the beginning of this project, I spoke to Bobby Singer before I first contacted you. He explicitly warned me against lying to you. I should have known that included lies of omission."

A slight shuffle, then Dean muttered, "Yeah, well... not like you owe me anything," the righteous anger draining out of his voice. He cleared his throat. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

"I just wanted to make sure you agreed with my first rounds of edits. I know you'll be in New York on Friday, so if you have anything you'd like to go over, I can prepare beforehand."

"Naw, man, it all made sense to me. You guys know better than me what this is supposed to be at this point anyway. …That it?"

That was, technically, 'it'. Castiel found himself oddly reluctant to leave their conversation as it was though; he wasn't sure Dean and himself were really back on good terms. He needed to ensure that before Friday, he reasoned. "...How was your trip?" he ventured. "Gabriel said you were hiking. Where did you go?" He leaned his head harder against the earpiece, listening for any nuances he could pick up from the background noise. There was the faint rasp of a drawn breath.

"Went okay… Went to help a buddy of mine scope out wolverine habitat in Wyoming. The Rockies. Not for a hunt. They're, uh, gonna set up camera traps in a month or two, try to find out if any are up there still."

"I've never been to the Rocky Mountains… What's it like there?" It felt strange to Castiel, pulling the dialogue along like this. He was out of his comfort zone, imagining what people might say in his situation.

Dean let out a huff of amusement. "Well, it's a pretty long mountain range… Uh, big, I guess. You're surrounded by rock and hills covered in evergreens on all sides. You can see just about forever at some points, so far that the air just starts to build up and turn everything blue in the distance. Up close, everything is so crisp and clear. Especially this time of year, when there's already snow on the ground in some spots. Cold. Quiet. You're out there, feels like everything for miles can hear you coming. ...I dunno, I'm not doing it justice. Better at writing it than talking about it, I guess, and even then, nothing comes close to just seeing it in person."

"I've never been west of New York state," Castiel admitted.

"You should," Dean answered without hesitation. "Out there… It's like a different planet. Only place I know where you can look horizon to horizon and see nothing but nature."

Castiel thought of the mass of humanity, cement and glass, sheer noise that was Manhattan and New York City, pictured standing on a mountain top with not a road or building or car in sight. "Sounds… lonely."

"Hey, we walk alone in the world."

The words were familiar, and it took Castiel a moment to place the quote. He wondered if Dean was just repeating something he had once heard and couldn't resist expanding upon the reference, probing. "Ah… well, as long as you are looking at the stars…"

Dean huffed again, the quiet sound of his laughter. "Ehh, they're up there every night.."

A tiny wave of surprised elation pulled Castiel's mouth into a smile. Just when he was beginning to think he had an accurate grasp of Dean as a person, the man started paraphrasing trancendentalists. He shook his head in disbelief. Somehow, it fit… another piece to a puzzle that was turning out to be much more complex than he'd realized. It opened up an entirely new set of possibilities in his mind. He must have paused too long, considering whether Dean preferred the intellectual essays or the poetry, because Dean spoke again.

"Well, I'm packing up today and heading for New York tomorrow morning. Probably could have made it in two days, but nothing sadder than making a road trip and never getting off the interstate."

Castiel forced himself to focus on the conversation. "Yes, Gabriel mentioned that you were driving…" Why don't you fly? "Have a safe trip." He winced; that last part had been spoken almost on autopilot and would be interpreted as a closing.

"Thanks. Guess I'll see you Friday, then?"

"Yes… I will be here." Where else would I be? Castiel asked himself.

"All right… Have a good week, Castiel. See you then."

"Goodbye, Dean."

After closing the line, Castiel sat quietly for a few minutes, trying to gather his thoughts. He found himself unable to start up his work again and instead ended up searching the internet for pictures of the Rockies, maps of Wyoming, and the life history of wolverines before his guilt at abusing company time finally outweighed his curiosity. The rest of the afternoon, he moved at half speed, finding his thoughts drifting and re-reading sentence after sentence.

He pulled his copy of Nature off the shelf that night and began reading, at every page considering whether Dean had once read those same words, found meaning in them.