I Could Be Dreaming

by WhenTheClockStrikesMidnight

Summary:

Dean and Sam Winchester, after being dropped off at university in England find themselves in the middle of an open murder case, with a very supernatural cause. On top of this, Dean has to deal with his new roommate, the mysterious Castiel Novak.

I do not own any of the characters, they are the creation of the spn team not me, as much as I regret it :)

Notes:

Hi! Thanks for clicking - I hope you enjoy. Comments are always appreciated :)

Chapter 1: Is There Anything Worse Than Planes, Rain And The English Countryside?

Dean Winchester tried not to fall over as he stepped off the plane. Eight hours onboard a flying death trap had done nothing for his sense of balance. He concentrated on the ground and the walls of the tunnel, his hands clenched into fists.

Heathrow airport was crowded with tourists, even at the ungodly hour of 5:15, according to a clock that he spotted on the opposite wall, above a sign directing arrivals to baggage reclaim.

His sense of self returning slowly, Dean followed his father through the halls, checking every so often that Sam was still behind him. Throughout the flight, Sam had buried himself in a thick looking book and only resurfaced to reassure Dean that the plane wasn’t going to crash, when they had experienced some (in Dean’s opinion) worrying turbulence.

University. Sam had insisted, and in a surprising and considerably out of character turn of events, John Winchester had not only agreed, but had insisted that Dean go too.

“I have a case in England. You might as well do something while we’re there.” Had been his exact words.

Dean had been confused, certainly, but not opposed to the idea. It could be fun. Who knew what kind of trouble Sam could get into in an entirely new country. He would need Dean.

 

It was looking less fun every minute. It had rained constantly the entire taxi drive there, and after getting lost three times, and stuck behind a herd of sheep once, Dean was wondering just how ‘out of the way’ this place was.

“How the hell is this the third best school for law in Europe?” he muttered, nudging Sam in the ribs. “I’ve never even heard of it!”

“It’s internationally recognised Dean.” said Sam, shoving back. “You would know it if you paid attention.”

“I do!”

Sam raised an eyebrow.

Dean huffed and turned to stare back out the window. All he could see was the hedge flying past, and rain beating against the windows. The mist made it impossible to see anything apart from what was right in front of your nose.

John was in the front seat next to the driver. Neither of them had spoken a word since they entered the cab. Dean wasn’t sure whether he liked that or not.

 

“We’re here.” the driver’s voice was hoarse. Probably from lack of use, Dean thought, but he didn’t say anything.

He pushed the door open and stepped out into the rain. There was the unmistakable crunch of gravel beneath his feet. The blustery wind blew his now soaked hair into his face. Through the drizzle, he could make out the shape of a large building.

“Come on Sammy.” he grunted, heaving his trunk out of the boot.

 

There were no signposts that Dean could make out, so he followed the trail of people making for the entrance. By the time he got inside, there were a crowd of bedraggled kids, all about Dean’s age, huddled together in the lobby.

Dean eyed them with distaste.

It was a huge lobby. Arching beams stretched across the ceiling, and huge windows sent what would have been streams of light into the room, had it not been for the torrent currently battering against the glass. There was a suit of armour in the corner, and an enormous fireplace on the opposite wall. Dean was sure he could have stood in it.

The queue for the front desk gradually decreased. Once they got there, Dean was shivering. It was no warmer in here than outside - the fire, though prepared, was not lit.

“Good morning!” said the man brightly. “How can I help you?”

“Uhh, Dean and Sam Winchester. I think we have a room together.”

The man glanced up. “Unfortunately we’ve had a small mishap in regards to rooming. Dean Winchester will be in room 135 on the third floor, and Sam will be in room 98 on the second. Your roommates are Castiel and Gabriel Novak”

“But we asked for--”

“There’s simply nothing we can do I’m afraid.”

“Can’t we just--”

“It’s fire safety really.” said the man, staring intently at his computer.

“What do you mean fire safety?” asked Dean, exasperated now.

The man half shrugged, and looked behind the two of them slowly and deliberately, at the next person waiting in line.

“Come on Dean.” said Sam, pulling him away from the counter and grabbing the keys that had been dropped on top of it. “Thank you so much.”

As they left, Dean distinctly heard the man mutter 'foreigners’. It took all his strength not to march back and demand a room change.

Instead, he pursed his lips. “I have a bag full of guns Sammy. Where am I going to put them huh? I’m stuck on the opposite side of campus locked in a room with some dude named Castiel! Who names their kid Castiel? Weirdos that’s who!”

“We’re in the 21st century Dean. We have phones.” sighed Sam. “if you need me, I’ll be in room 98, second floor.”

 

The castle - Dean didn’t have another word for it, was huge. It took him half an hour of searching to find room 135, which turned out to be right at the end of the corridor, round the corner. The key worked, after some effort on his part, and he stumbled into his room.

It was small, but not at all bad. Two beds stood on opposite sides, with two tables in between. There were shelves above the beds and a cupboard each. The bed nearest the wall had been claimed, probably by his roommate, Castiel.

A trench coat was slung over the bed frame and there were a couple of battered pictures on the wall and in frames on the shelf. A large trunk was sticking out from underneath the bed. Nothing was out of place.

Dean dumped his bags on the side that was undisturbed and yanked the door back open. It was stiff, and creaked as he forced it. Everything in this place creaked. The floors were wooden, and wooden beams were much in evidence in the very low ceiling.

It seems to be two sneezes from collapsing as we sleep. thought Dean. Could Sam have picked a better place?

According to a small window at the end of the passage, the rain had cleared. This was not at all better though, because now Dean could see fields upon fields stretching into the horizon.

There were sheep in the fields.

He had worked cases in remote spots before. But at least those had been few and far between, and he had been doing something relatively interesting. Now he was stuck here for as long as Sam wanted.

Speaking of Sam…

 

Room 98 didn’t take too long to reach, but there was only one staircase, so he had to take the long way. He reached the door. It swung open cleanly.

“What the hell!”

“Hey Dean.” said Sam, not looking up from his laptop.

“How come you get the good room, and I get the room that hasn’t-been-used-since-the-owners-son-died-in-it-and-still-creaks?” asked Dean, sitting down on the bed that Sam wasn’t occupying and stretching out. “Did you get any sign of our phantom roommate?”

“Yes actually.”

“Met Gabriel have you?” Dean couldn’t resist.

Sam gave him a withering look. “He’s very nice. Castiel is his brother. He just left to check out the campus. Promise you’ll be nice to both of them.”

Dean raised his hands in mock surrender. “I promise.”

“I was thinking we could have a look at the rest of the place. Explore a bit.”

“Whatever.” said Dean, grimacing. “Have you seen the sheep?”

Sam stood up and smiled despite himself.

 

An hour later, Dean was ready to die. They had seen the common rooms, the covered area outside, the library (which even Dean had to admit was huge), the classrooms and looked at the cafeteria. They hadn't even covered half of the University.

Sam insisted that they looked at the library again, so Dean tried not to collapse again (mostly from exhaustion. Not getting food in the airport had been a huge mistake) and followed him in.

“Sammy! What are we supposed to do? Study?!” Dean dropped his voice to a whisper as they entered the cavern-like side building.

The library had two levels, and niches with walls made out of books. There were people using the tables in them, books strewn across the tabletops, chairs and often the floor as well.

“Yeah. Or you could go out I suppose.” said Sam, his voice equally low.

“Where?!”

“Out…” repeated Sam vaguely, gesturing to the french windows that spanned one wall. “Maybe you could go on walks.”

“Walks.” gulped Dean. “Surrounded by sheep. Sounds like fun. I’m going to head back up. I might as well get a good night’s sleep. School tomorrow. Great.”

Sam smiled.

Chapter 2: Time To Meet The Phantom Roommate

Dean was woken by his alarm going off, loudly. He fumbled to turn it off.

There was a groan from the other bed.

Still too asleep to properly register anything, Dean squinted out of the window. The curtains were pulled back, so light was flooding into the room, mixing with the steady rain and sending sparkling rainbows over everything.

Dean pulled himself up and glanced over. The bed next to him was a mess of blankets, with just the top of a tousled head of black hair visible. It turned over and groaned again, its face against the pillow.

This must be Castiel.

He made his way to the bathroom and splashed some water over his face. Instantly more refreshed and feeling slightly less dead, he reentered the small room, hitting his head on the beam.

The boy had untangled himself from the duvet, and was rubbing his face when Dean yelped in pain. He looked up.

“You must be Dean Winchester.” he said, holding his hand. “I’m Castiel Novak. Sorry I wasn’t here yesterday.”

Dean shook the proffered hand. It was warm.

“Nice to meet you Castiel.”

Castiel smiled. He wasn’t at all bad looking, Dean noticed with a bit of a shock. He had blue eyes, and a pleasant face - he looked genuinely nice. Dean realised he was staring, and dropped Castiel’s hand.

“You from the US too?” said Dean, coughing and turning around to examine the chest of drawers.

There was a brief silence, as if he was deciding what to say, and then a quiet, “Yes.”

Dean grabbed the rest of his stuff in silence. Once he was changed, he smiled at Castiel and forced the creaking door open.

It had been hard to pick something to study - they all looked equally boring, but for lack of better options, he had settled on a course on the history of mythology in Europe. Dean was counting on vampires and stuff appearing often. His first lecture of the day was early, and then there was another one before lunch. He didn’t know how much you could really talk about myths. Obviously a lot.

 

The lecture hall was small. An elderly woman was turning the projector on at the front of the class. The seats were arranged in a semicircle around the stage that she was standing on, in layers. To his surprise, Dean spotted Castiel in the back row. There were other seats available, but that would include introductions, so Dean deposited his stuff next to him, and sat down heavily.

“Hello Dean.” Castiel smiled and opened his laptop.

“You didn’t tell me you were doing this course.” Dean said, glancing around. “It looks pretty … interesting.”

“It is.” said Castiel seriously. “Fascinating.”

“Fascinating.” muttered Dean weakly, uncapping a pen. He wrote ‘MYTHOLOGY’ in block capitals across the first page of his notebook.

By the time the lecture had finished, ‘MYTHOLOGY’ was the only bit of information relevant to the course. He had filled the double page with scribbles, drawings and random looping swirls. Castiel had several sheets of meticulously typed up notes, ordered and labeled.

Dean pretended he hadn’t seen them. He was pretty sure that he also had an assignment due in two weeks, but that was something to think about another time.

He stuck with Castiel for the next lecture as well, although he didn’t get anything written down then either.

After that, they went to lunch.

Dean made a beeline for Sam, who was sitting at a table with Gabriel. He looked mildly terrified, probably because in the time it took for Dean to cross the cafeteria, Gabriel didn’t draw breath. He continued talking as Dean sat down, pausing for a quick:

“Hey Castiel!”

Before he continued again.

Dean looked at all the lunch options twice, before deciding on a burger. Sam had found a salad, and Gabriel had stopped speaking to take a bite of an enormous chocolate bar. Castiel wasn’t eating anything.

The burger tasted a bit off, but Dean was starving.

“Aren’t you going to eat something Cas?” he asked, his mouth full of bread. Sam grimaced at him. Dean frowned.

Castiel shook his head. “I’m not hungry.”

Dean was about to protest, but Sam kicked him sharply under the table. Dean shot him a look.

Lunch was a quiet affair. Gabriel asked Dean a few questions, which he answered dutifully.

The rain had stopped. The damp grass at the front of the university was covered with students wielding picnic blankets. The picnic tables were all full.

“Is it an English thing?” Sam had wondered aloud. “The grass is so wet still.”

Dean had shrugged.

 

Sam and Gabriel had both left; their schedules were packed, but Dean and Castiel had free periods for the rest of the day. It was partly due to this fact that Dean found himself spending time in the library. Voluntarily.

‘It's bad enough that I don’t know anyone in this hell hole. I’m trapped.’ thought Dean, staring bleakly into the horizon. He was holding the bottom of a particularly rickety looking ladder so that Castiel could access the top shelves.

“Do you need help studying for anything?” asked Castiel, his arms full of books.

“Hmm?” said Dean, jolted out of his reverie. “I’m alright. Thanks though.”

Castiel descended the ladder slowly, his face obscured by the pile of literature. Dean wasn’t sure how much the ladder could hold, so he had his hand hovering above Castiel’s back. When he got down, Dean dropped his hand.

Castiel set the books onto the table, and was swiftly obscured by a large cloud of dust. Dean attempted to fan it away, but both of them fell into fits of coughing.

Once it had cleared, Castiel promptly buried himself in a thick and cracked copy of Grimm’s Fairy Tales. Dean read over his shoulder for a bit, but returned to his seat on the other side of the round table after three people had died gruesomely.

 

It became routine. Dean didn’t care to introduce himself to anyone else, and so it stuck that way. Even though he didn’t talk much, Castiel was companionable, and the silences weren’t uncomfortable, they were contented.

As the weeks passed, Dean started to enjoy the work. The essays were hard, and they definitely took some getting used to, but Cas was great at making notes, and he didn’t seem to mind Dean looking at them from time to time.

Are friends supposed to act like this? Dean thought, when he and Castiel were sitting at the same table for the third night running. He had come to think of it as their table, and apparently, so had everyone else. The huge walls of books created a kind of fort, which students studied in, and holed themselves up in.

An answer - of sorts - had always sprung to mind immediately after. Dean didn’t know what this was, but it was nice. It felt right.

Whenever Castiel was with him, Dean felt calm. Castiel also forced him to complete homework assignments, which Dean started to get pretty reasonable scores on.

He was still no better at taking notes.

 

One late autumn’s afternoon, Dean was sitting on the floor of his room, with all of his weapons in a circle around him. He hadn’t had to use any of them, so they needed cleaning or they wouldn’t fire straight.

He kept them in a duffel bag which was shoved to the bottom of his trunk. Castiel wasn’t the type of person to go through his stuff, so Dean had felt relatively comfortable about keeping the trunk unlocked.

He had thought about getting rid of them a couple of times, but had decided against it.

He had also made sure Castiel was going to be out for the rest of the day, to prevent any chance of a surprise encounter. Past experience had taught him that normal people didn’t appreciate a gun collection in a potential acquaintance. He was so sure, he hadn’t bothered to lock himself in.

That was why, when the familiar creaking screeches of the door being forced open first sounded, Dean didn’t immediately shove the assorted weaponry back under the bed.

It was probably Sam.

Castiel pushed the door open and walked in.

“Hello Dean.” he said, trailing off as he looked at the whole scene.

Dean dropped the sawn off shotgun he was holding and swore. He looked from Castiel, to the guns and knives, and back.

“I can explain.”

Chapter 3: Who'd Have Thought?

Notes:

Another chapter, hope you enjoy :) Thanks to the guest who left kudos! Much appreciated. (You can tell I'm really new at this)

There was silence.

Then Castiel bent down, picked up a gun and examined it. “You’ve kept these in very good condition. They must be quite hard to clean.”

Dean’s mouth fell open. “Aren’t you just a little bit freaked out?”

Castiel looked confused.

“I could be a serial killer for all you know!” said Dean incredulously. “Who else has a gun collection?”

“I don’t see why--”

“You know what.” interrupted Dean. “I’m just going to put these away.” He began shoving them back into the duffel bag. Once they were safely back in the bottom of the trunk, he looked up.

Castiel was sitting on the bed, looking at his phone.

“I’m not a serial killer. If you wanted to know.” Dean added, standing up awkwardly.

“I know.” said Castiel, looking up and smiling.

Dean found himself grinning incredulously back.

 

After that, everything was much more simple. Dean chatted with Castiel constantly, and Castiel talked back nearly as much. Dean discovered that Castiel had watched hardly any films or TV shows and was apparently in desperate need of some sort of intervention. They still talked together but he took it upon himself to educate Castiel, and movie nights became a frequent thing.

Once they had worked through all of the Disney films, (Dean had found them on a dodgy looking website that definutely wasn’t strictly legal, but they had pretty good quality), in order, they moved onto Dean’s absolute all time favourites. They stayed up late into the night, Dean’s laptop perched precariously on a chair in between the two beds.

Free periods didn’t revolve around study anymore. Once they had eaten lunch, always with Sam and Gabriel, their free periods weren’t always spent in the library. Occasionally some of Sam’s law friends joined them, and the table was full. Sam looked happy. Dean was glad.

They played board games in the common rooms. One particular evening, Castiel absolutely thrashed Dean at monopoly. The talent had sprung out of nowhere, and Dean kept up a string of muttered profanities until they were both asleep.

Castiel never seemed to sleep or eat. When Dean woke up in the middle of the night, Castiel would be sitting cross legged on his bed reading, or tapping away lightly at his laptop, the moonlight illuminating his face. He always looked serene. Dean would listen to the little sounds that he made - the turning of a page, his even breathing until he was asleep again. He didn’t know whether he should be worried or not. A part of him always felt a little concerned, but it didn’t seem to affect Castiel, so Dean tried to roll with it.

When he did eventually fall asleep, it took an inhuman amount of strength to wake him up. Dean had taken to chucking his pillow across the room when his alarm went off. That usually elicited some sort of response, but on several occasions, Dean had had to shake him awake three times in a row. From there, it took a good half an hour before Castiel was ready to continue a normal conversation. Dean had poured water on him once (desperate measures) and Castiel had refused to talk to him for the rest of the day once the screeching had subsided.

“Come on Cas.” Dean groaned, shaking Castiel who opened his eyes blearily.

“Hello Dean.” he said, yawning.

“We’ve got a lecture in 20 minutes so you’d better get a move on.”

Castiel sat upright. Dean waved a hand in front of his face. There was no response.

“I don’t get why you go to bed so late. Surely you need some sleep.”

“It’s easier to think when everything is quiet. I like it.”

“It won’t be easier to think when you pass out from exhaustion during class.”

“Whatever.” said Castiel. Dean pursed his lips and started to throw his school stuff into a bag.

 

Later that day, Dean, Castiel and Sam were cramped together in one of the library booths. A group of students were laughing loudly from their usual table, so Dean had to find another one, which was half the size. Dean was scribbling in his notebook which was balanced precariously on his knee, since the small table was already covered in a mixture of books that Castiel had taken from the other booth, and books that somehow Sam managed to keep on him at all times. Castiel was organised enough for the both of them, so Dean already had the materials he needed for this week’s assignment. The lack of available space didn’t really mean anything to him.

Dean didn’t notice the girl detach herself from the group opposite, and make her way slowly towards their table.

Castiel kicked him under the table.

“What?” asked Dean indignantly.

“Can this girl borrow a book?” said Castiel. There was in fact a girl standing awkwardly in front of the table, half smiling.

“Which book?”

“That one.” said the girl, pointing at the nearest one, smiling at Dean.

“Sure.” said Dean, picking it off the top of the pile and handing it to her. “Are you particularly interested in … cult sacrifices in 15th century France?”

The girl glanced at the cover of the book and turned a bit red, opening her mouth several times. She took it, rather reluctantly and half turned around, hovering for a minute, before returning to her table. There was raucous laughter, which was quelled swiftly.

Sam leant over the table, an incredulous look on his face.

“Dean.” he said, looking from the girl to Dean and back. “Are you feeling good?”

“Yeah, why?” said Dean suspiciously, frowning at Sam.

“Did you not see the very attractive girl trying to flirt with you?”

“She wanted a book. She wasn’t flirting.”

“I really don’t think so.”

Dean looked at Castiel.

“Was she flirting?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t know.” said Castiel, barely looking up.

Dean turned back to Sam, looking smug. “There we go.”

Sam grinned. “Hey, it’s great that you want to study more, but are you sure--”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sam shrugged. Dean glared at him, then went back to his notebook. The lectures had been interesting of late, and there hadn’t even been one mention of vampires. Sad but true.

 

They were making their way through the cloisters back to the main hall from the library when they heard it. It was late at night - around 11pm in the evening.

Sirens.

The flashing lights of the ambulance lit up the gravel as they screeched to a halt.

“What’s happened?” hissed Dean, trying not to stare too conspicuously.

“It doesn’t look good.” said Sam, watching three paramedics unload a stretcher from the back of the vehicle, wheeling it up to the steps as fast as possible.

Dean placed his hand in front of Castiel as he tried to move forward.

They stood, letting the events unfold.

After a while, the paramedics reemerged, zipping up a black body bag. Dean heard Castiel inhale sharply.

A girl in her pajamas was running down the steps. They could hear her strangled sobs from across the drive. Someone grabbed her and stopped her from following the ambulance crew any further. She stood still, limp, tears streaming down her face, shaking from her head to her bare feet. Adults were talking in hushed voices, and Dean couldn’t make out what they were saying. Teachers, the receptionist that they had met on the first day, were all standing round. One of them was on the phone, nodding sympathetically and shaking their head at intervals.

“Someone’s dead.” whispered Sam.

“Dead?” asked Castiel. Dean was surprised to see almost confusion in his eyes. “What … happened?”

“We don’t know.” Dean placed his hand on the back of Castiel’s coat, leading him away.

They left Sam in front of his room in silence. Dean pushed the door of their room open. Castiel sat on his bed in silence.

“Are you alright?” Dean ventured.

“I…I’m not sure.” Castiel looked at him. Dean sat on the opposite bed and leaned forward across the space.

“It’ll be fine.” he said. “Sometimes these things just happen. Come here.”

Castiel frowned in confusion.

Dean pulled him into a hug. “It’s alright.”

Castiel’s arms, loose at his side, wrapped around Dean’s back. Dean breathed out. He patted Castiel’s shoulder and let him sink into the embrace. For a while, there was nothing except his breathing, even as always. It was barely audible, slowing down as he listened. Dean felt his eyes closing. He could feel his heartbeat speeding up.

“Alright buddy.” he said, straightening up hurriedly.

Castiel coughed and busied himself with restacking the pile of books on his bedside table.

“Thank you Dean.”

Chapter 4: We Can’t Seem To Go One Trip Without Some Sort Of Murder

Notes:

Thank you so much for being patient with me… I promise chapter updates will be more regular from now, and since I have a few unpublished (like this one) that I was just staring at, they should be a bit quicker as well :)

It was all over the university by breakfast. A girl had died in her sleep. The details of the case were varied - Dean heard seven different supernatural theories for what had happened to her, ranging from avenging spirit, to elves.

“They might not be too far off.” said Dean, dropping his voice to a whisper as they passed a couple in the corridor.

“I was having a good year. Why can’t there just be a simple explanation? She died in her sleep!” hissed Sam back.

“You know why. We’ve got to investigate at least, and I’ve got to find Cas. He said he would meet us here.”

“Cas is fine Dean. You’re not joined at the hip you know.”

“There could be something killing students Sam--”

“One student,” interrupted Sam.

“It could be anywhere--”

“This is one house in miles of countryside we’re talking about.”

“No one knows who it’s going after next!”

“So it’s killing spree isn’t over then,” sarcasm dripped from Sam’s voice.

“Shut up.” Dean elbowed him in the ribs. “I don’t want Cas to get killed by this thing.”

“What thing?!”

Dean huffed loudly. He ducked under the police tape which was stretched across this end of the corridor. There was no one else in the passage.

“This is it.”

“Her room?”

“Yep.”

Dean was sure it was meant to be locked, but it only took a minute and a small lockpick to get through.

The room was small. Smaller than his and Cas’, with two tiny beds crammed against the walls, with a thin space in between.

“No EMF,” said Sam, brandishing the device.

“And no sulphur,” finished Dean. “Can we get the coroners reports?”

“No,” scoffed Sam.

“Why not?”

Sam gestured to himself, then Dean. “We don’t look like police officers, and I don’t want to attempt to drive in this place.”

“Fair point,” admitted Dean.

True enough, everything seemed to be in order. There was nothing out of place.

“Maybe we're just overreacting,” Dean crept back into the corridor, and started towards the stairs at one end.

“Good,” said Sam.

Dean found Castiel, who was waiting patiently at the agreed meeting place. Everything was fine. Wasn’t it?

He brushed off Castiel’s inquiry, and they made their way to lectures. Still. Dean had a nagging feeling that this wasn’t over yet.

 

It wasn’t.

The same thing happened the next week. On the opposite side of campus, a boy died in his sleep.

Dean and Sam were forced into high alert. Dean refused to let Castiel go anywhere alone, much to everyone’s annoyance. Even Dean wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt a responsibility for the dark haired boy.

Safe in the knowledge that Castiel was currently with Gabriel, Dean was investigating. Sam was talking to the girl’s roommate, and Dean was talking to the boy’s. It was a very one sided conversation. Dean had got absolutely nowhere, except that his name was Harrison.

“So you said he was fine,” he prompted, trying to drag a response out of the reluctant boy.

“Yeah. Tyler was fine,” said Harrison, sniffing loudly. “He was fine. Until... Until...”

“Whoah. Come on, steady,” said Dean hurriedly, patting him on the shoulder lightly. “Had anything out of the ordinary happened?”

“Well…” Harrison faltered. “There was… He’d been having nightmares.”

“Nightmares?”

“Yeah. Like proper wake-up-screaming ones. They only started a couple of days ago as well. It was terrifying. I didn’t know what to do.”

“Okay,” said Dean. “Thanks. I hope you feel better man.”

“What does this have to do with Tyler--”

But Dean had already left. He met Sam in the library.

“Nightmares?” he asked.

“Uhuh,” said Sam, already pulling books off the shelves. “What do we know about that gives people nightmares?”

There was no reply.

“Dean?”

“We need to tell Cas.” Dean burst out, folding his arms and looking defiantly at Sam.

“What?!”

“We need to tell Cas, Sammy. How can we keep him safe if he doesn’t know anything?”

Sam raised his arms in outraged confusion.

“What is going on with you? We can’t tell Cas!”

“Why not?”

“Is it so important? Can’t you just look out for him or something?”

“No!” said Dean bluntly. “He needs to know.”

As if he had heard, Dean spotted Castiel making his way towards them. Sam shot Dean a if-you-tell-him-you’ll-be-next-on-the-serial-murder-spree look, but Dean ignored him and sat down, looking expectant.

Castiel arrived at the table, peered over Sam’s shoulder at the books he was trying to hide unobtrusively, shook his head and set down another, significantly smaller book.

“What we’re looking for,” he said, “is a Mare.”

Dean tried to speak, but all that came out was a hoarse ‘What?’.

“You might call it a Night Hag, or a Night Mare.” Castiel pointed to the book, which was open to a page which showed a detailed drawing. At the top of the page was the title ‘The Mare’. Dean could only read so well upside down, so he pulled his chair round to the other side of the table. Castiel moved out of the way so he could see.

“What?”

This time, it was Sam who voiced Dean’s question. Castiel looked mildly annoyed.

“You are looking for the supernatural creature that has been killing students, right?”

Sam made an impressed noise.

“Right,” continued Castiel. “What you’re looking for, is a Mare.”

“A Mare,” said Dean, suddenly finding his voice. “What the hell is a Mare?”

“A creature of the darkness. You know, Night-Mare. People used to talk about these things before they found out a scientific explanation. Obviously there was something else behind it,” explained Gabriel, appearing out of nowhere and sitting down, putting his legs onto the table.

“You’re in on this too?” asked Sam incredulously.

“Duhh.” said Gabriel, rolling his eyes.

“Sleep paralysis,” said Castiel, looking even more annoyed. “The creature sits on your chest as you sleep, and gives you nightmares. It feeds off your fear. You get terrifying nightmares for two nights, and on the third night--”

“It kills you,” cut in Gabriel, running his hand across his throat. Then, he pulled a huge chocolate bar out of his pocket, and began to unwrap it. “It’s a horrible death.”

“Horrible,” echoed Sam.

“How do you know all of this? Are you hunters?” Dean dropped his voice to a hiss.

For once, there was no answer. Gabriel, who usually never ,stopped talking, shrugged and continued attacking his chocolate bar. Castiel glanced at Dean, but didn’t say anything.

 

“Are you going to explain anything?” said Dean, grinning at Castiel as they walked back to their room.

Castiel smiled. “No.”

“I was going to tell you anyway.”

“Sure.”

“I was!”

“I know. I would have found out sooner or later anyway. You’re rubbish at hiding things anyway Dean.”

“Only from you it seems.” Dean grinned wider. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Who knows.” Castiel laughed.

 

Later that night, Dean woke up. He didn’t check his watch, just rolled over and opened his eyes surreptitiously. Castiel was sitting on his bed, the duvet wrapped around his feet, holding a thick hardback book, lit by the light of the moon that was streaming through the open curtains. The book was obviously old. As Dean watched, a page fluttered to the floor. Castiel sighed almost inaudibly and reached to pick it up, the muscles in his back stretching through the thin t-shirt. He slotted the page back in neatly and continued reading. His untidy black hair was falling into his face. Occasionally he glanced at Dean, but he apparently saw nothing out of place, and continued reading. Sometimes his eyes would linger, and Dean would close his eyes for a moment, feeling Castiel’s gaze on his face.

What is happening? Thought Dean, squeezing his eyes shut. Cas is my friend.

He rolled over slowly and faced the wall, trying to keep the movement slow enough to feign sleep still.

He tried to sleep, but suddenly he was hyper alert of Castiel's every movement. The other boy was humming to himself now, a tuneless melody that faded in and out, winding and soaring around complicated notes, whilst staying at the same muted pitch.

Although the curtains were open, the windows were closed. Dean never slept in pitch darkness and the natural light in the morning was comforting.

As Castiel's humming continued, Dean felt his eyes closing. It had turned into a song he recognised. Something from ‘Tangled’, he was sure.

Whatever this is. Thought Dean. Whatever we are, I’m glad I’m here.

Chapter 5: Why Choose You?

Notes:

Wow, a double update! You guys are lucky… (nah I’m kidding it’s cos I feel bad about not updating)

Anyways… Enjoy :)

Everything seemed to go quiet for about a month.

Castiel had spent a week researching constantly on top of all his school work. When Dean had found him passed out next to his notebook and pen leaning against his bedside table one morning, he had intervened. Now Castiel was being forcibly prevented from looking into any more of the lore without Dean’s help.

They had sifted through hundreds of different stories, the details varying on each one. Some legends stated that the Mare was a creature in it’s own right, and therefore wouldn’t emit any kind of EMF, other stories thought that it was in fact a kind of demonic possession.

Sam was reluctant, so Dean made sure that he had as little to do with the case as possible. Failing law school in his first year of uni wasn’t an option.

Gabriel was erratically helpful. On occasion he would provide a thoughtful and detailed piece of information, but most of the time he did what he wanted, and most of the time, that included things that Castiel and Dean were not a part of.

Dean wasn’t sure where Gabriel disappeared to, but he always popped up when you least expected it.

So that meant that it was Dean and Castiel who were forced to take the brunt of the work, and try to find out who, what, and where this thing was. Also, how it could be killed would be a useful topic, which had not surfaced yet.

Since they were so unsure, Dean volunteered to watch the corridors at night. Castiel agreed to alternate with him, and so a sort of rota was established.

“You never sleep anyway,” said Dean, trying not to sound like one of those goody-two-shoes you got so often in school. “But be careful. We don’t know what this thing is.”

Castiel nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, but--”

“I’ve done this before Dean,” said Castiel reassuringly.

“About that,” said Dean. “You never explained how you know about all of this.”

That shut him up. Dean watched him force the door open and sat down on his bed, trying not to worry.

 

Of course that didn’t work.

The next day, Castiel was asleep on his feet. He completely crashed at about 3 in the afternoon, during one of the more boring lectures and flaked out, his head on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean didn’t have the heart to wake him up.

Once that lecture was over, and Dean gently shook Castiel into consciousness, he was still too asleep to really understand what was going on.

Dean dragged him back to their room, and shoved Castiel onto his bed. After a minute, he was completely out of it.

It was kind of cute.

 

Nothing seemed to happen. Dean spent most of the time trying to watch out for Castiel, Sam and himself all at once. After another week of inactivity, they called it a day.

“Maybe it’s just gone,” suggested Dean as him and Castiel were walking back to their dorm. “Maybe it had enough.”

Castiel frowned. He was not convinced, Dean knew, but there was nothing that he could do about it except wait it out.

“I don’t understand why it would stop,” said Castiel. “What are we missing?”

“I don’t think anything,” said Dean truthfully.

“We just can’t be sure.”

And they couldn’t. But Dean knew that he also couldn’t ignore the evidence. Nothing had happened for a month and a half.

A girl appeared around the corner. Dean recognised her. Cult sacrifices, he remembered with a smile. She was approaching them purposefully, a spring in her step, her eyes averted, until she skidded to a halt in front of Dean.

“Hi!” she said, smiling up at him. “I’m Emma.”

“Hello,” replied Dean, squinting at her.

“I was wondering if you wanted to grab coffee?” she asked, holding out a post-it note with a number written in a thick black pen.

Dean was caught unawares. He glanced at Castiel, who was watching the exchange with amusement.

“I don’t-- Uh...” was all he managed.

The girl looked expectant.

“No?” offered Dean.

“No?” The girl looked affronted. Her arm, holding the post-it note, lowered slowly.

“I’ve got a lot of work to do,” said Dean sheepishly, backtracking fast. “I have no time off.”

“Oh I can help you with that!”

“No!” The reply came so fast it was almost a shout. “I mean, I really couldn’t. I’m so sorry.”

Emma’s smile faltered.

“Sure!” she said brightly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “That's fine.”

She barged past, knocking into Castiel who was thrust against the wall.

“You okay buddy?” asked Dean, rushing to help him up.

“I’m fine.” Castiel stared down the corridor at the retreating figure of the girl. “Does that happen a lot?”

“Of course not.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

Dean sighed. “I’m not really sure I want to date at the moment.”

“I mean.” said Castiel, gesturing towards Dean. “I see why.”

Dean laughed. He tried to ignore the flutter that sent through his chest.

His eyes are so blue.

Dean turned away and continued to walk down the corridor, Castiel by his side.

I don’t want this to end.

 

Later that night, Dean woke up. He turned over to see whether Castiel was still awake. He was not expecting to see him lying on top of the covers, eyes closed, still.

Too still.

Dean leant over and tapped Castiel lightly on the shoulder.

No response.

Pleased but a little surprised, Dean rolled onto his back and closed his eyes again.

Castiel’s breathing, usually so even, was unsettled. He started to move, flinging his arm over his head and mumbling.

Dean got out of bed and knelt next to him. He could only make out a few words.

Please. No. Stop. Stop.

“Cas?” whispered Dean.

Castiel sat bolt upright, screaming, his voice hoarse and agonized.

“Cas!” Dean grabbed both of Castiel’s hands and tried to calm him down. Castiel fought him, the incoherent, anguished sound pouring out of him.

Dean had one hand behind his head, and Castiel was gripping his other hand so tightly Dean thought the blood supply might cut off. He was making frantic shushing noises, leaning over the bed.

How do I help?

“Come on Cas, come on.” Dean breathed, his thoughts red with blind, desperate panic.

What do I do?

As if he had heard him, Castiel’s screams began to die down, settling back into the mumbling from before. He relaxed back into silence, suddenly limp in Dean’s arms.

All Dean could feel was relief. Castiel’s face was serene once more, a mask of calm. His hand was still holding Dean’s tightly. Too tight to let go, although Dean tried to remove his hand as gently as possible.

He ended up sitting with his back against Castiel’s bed, his knees up to his chest, the feeling in his hand long gone. Castiel’s breathing was weak, but steady. Dean could feel his eyes closing.

 

Dean was woken by a stream of bright sunlight. He opened his eyes and shut them again; the light was blinding and aimed right at him.

It took him a minute to realise where he was.

Sprawled out on the floor, his neck aching, his arm numb, he sat up and extracted his hand from Castiel’s which had gone limp. As far as Dean could tell he was still asleep.

Everything was still a little bleary. Dean could only remember the worst parts, but they were blurry, like memories seen through muddy water. The screaming.

It echoed in his ears as he got dressed, splashing clean water all over his face.

“Come on Cas,” he muttered, trying not to think about it. “You really scared me man.”

Castiel didn’t move.

Dean picked up his pillow, and threw it lightly at Castiel’s head.

Nothing.

He sighed, and pulled the pillow off Castiel’s face. I do not want to kill him myself.

Leaning down and shaking him gently did nothing either.

How deeply is he asleep?

“Cas,” said Dean loudly, shaking him harder. “Cas?”

No response.

“Cas seriously you’re scaring me now.” Dean tried without avail to prevent the terror from creeping into the back of his mind.

Dean was running. Through the corridors and down the stairs, pushing past other students, ignoring their exclamations. He wasn’t seeing anything, just … running.

He hammered on the door to room 98. It was locked. It took all Dean had not to kick the door down right there.

Sam opened the door, yawning. “Dean what the—”

Dean didn’t answer, just pulled him out and back to room 135.

They were standing at the foot of the bed when Gabriel ran in, panting.

“What’s happened?” He asked, staring down at his brother.

“He’s not…” said Dean, trying to keep his voice from breaking. “He’s not waking up.”

“What?”

“The screaming, the nightmares, everything. And now this...” Dean gestured at Castiel’s sleeping form.

“The Mare?” said Sam.

Dean nodded.

“Why is it affecting him differently? None of the other victims stayed asleep.” Sam looked confused.

Gabriel opened his mouth as if to speak, then faltered.

“I would assume it’s because he’s not human.” He said in a deadpan voice.

Chapter 6: Hands Down, The Worst Weekend Of My Life

Notes:

Can you believe it, a TRIPLE update?! I'm feeling generous.

A quick note before we start. I write these out on google docs before pasting across, and such is my computer prowess, that I have no idea why bold and italics don't seem to work when I try them, and then catastrophic things happen if I attempt to tamper with a draft after it's initial upheaval from google docs onto this site... So, suffice to say, when I'm writing Dean's thoughts, I've just used single quotation marks ('like this') instead of the usual double which I reserve for speech ("like this"), and if that's confusing, sorry but there's nothing I can do :)

You'll all probably have noticed in previous chapters, so feel free to completely disregard the above, but for those of you (like me) who are kinda annoyed at the lack of italics, have pity, I'm trying as hard as I can XD

Anyways, thank you so much to those who have commented and kudos-ed, I love you all and you made my week, and also gave me the push I needed to actually continue with this fic, because I was kinda invested in it and enjoying writing more than I realised it so thank you so much :D

“Not … human…” said Dean slowly, uncomprehending. He glanced at Gabriel who sighed and continued in the monotone.

“We’re angels.”

“Angels?! What do you mean angels?”

“You know, angels. From—” Gabriel pointed upwards, towards the ceiling.

“Heaven?” scoffed Dean, starting to laugh. He stopped once he realised that everyone else was silent. “You’re not kidding.”

Sam, who had been silently watching the exchange, spoke up. “We’re supposed to believe this?”

Gabriel smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Believe what you want, but the truth is right in front of you.”

Dean looked at Castiel. A flicker of doubt was forming in his mind.

‘Suppose he’s telling the truth. It would explain why it’s affecting him differently.’

“I think that his body is trying to fight it off. Everything’s probably got a little more complicated than this Mare thing could ever worry about. You can leave him with me. I think that now, all we can do is wait.” said Gabriel.

“Whoah, hold up, we’re not just leaving him with you.” cut in Dean. “We need to watch him.”

“Dean you don’t really have a choice.” said Sam, looking grave.

“Of course I have a choice. I’m choosing to stay with him, because he needs me here.”

Sam frowned. “School?”

“It’s Sunday.” said Dean steadfastly.

“Don’t you have work to do?” asked Gabriel.

“I’ve done it all.” Dean couldn’t resist a smug smile, aimed at Sam who looked shocked.

“Well,” he said. “I still have work to do, so I’ll leave him with you guys. Text me if there's an update.”

Then, he left. Gabriel left as well, with a muttered:

“Watch him please.”

Dean nodded silently.

The day passed slowly. Too slowly. Dean tried to drown himself in research, but there was only so much he could do. There was no good lore available, and everything that they had, he had triple checked anyway.

This left plenty of time to be alone with his thoughts, something that Dean knew was never a good idea. The same phrases kept bouncing back into his head, no matter how hard Dean tried to concentrate on something else.

Why do you care so much?

What if you can’t save him?

It didn’t seem to have set in properly yet.

Denial. He thought, sitting at one of the smaller tables in the library, surrounded by stacks of notes. I know that something will eventually happen. I can’t keep putting it off.

Somehow, he still managed. Time moved sluggishly, broken only by the ticking of the clock and Castiel’s slow breaths.

Sam brought him a burger at about 1pm.

“I don’t want anything, sorry.” said Dean, looking at the burger and shaking his head.

Sam pretended he didn’t care.

“Sure - whatever.” he said brightly, but he sat with Dean for the rest of the afternoon.

It’s not like I’m going to implode if I’m left alone. Thought Dean, picking up another book. He had sent Sam out for more books after he had refused to leave. That seemed to be an acceptable compromise, and he had agreed. Taking his time about it though.

Nothing came of it anyway, and as the day slowly faded into night, Dean found himself dreading the darkness.

He had never been scared of what lurked in the shadows, but this was different. This was so different.

He pulled the bedside table out and pushed his bed next to Castiel. This sense of closeness helped a little. If anything happened, Dean would be right there.

Castiel’s hair was falling into his closed eyes. He looked serene, if that was possible. Like he wasn’t worried. Like he didn’t understand. He hadn’t moved at all apart from breathing. Dean didn’t know whether to be worried or not. Did it mean that he was fighting it off? Or did it have more sinister connotations?

Dean woke up for the third time and almost rolled onto Castiel. He stopped himself just in time and checked his watch.

03:19am.

Castiel wasn’t moving like last night. This time he remained motionless but the muttering got louder and louder until Dean couldn’t ignore it anymore.

“Please Cas.” he breathed. “Please.”

There was no response. Dean didn’t know whether he wanted one or not.

There were no screams that night.

Dean tried to calm him down, holding his hand even when it went limp, desperately trying to hear anything except the words that Castiel was repeating over and over again.

Then it was morning, and Castiel still wouldn’t wake up.

 

Lectures weren’t fun.

Dean sat at the back, trying to concentrate on what seemed to him like tuneless noise that he just couldn’t block out. He was functioning on about 3 hours of sleep, and he couldn’t get the mare out of his head. His notebook, which had been looking neat (as far as that was still possible) was filled again with scribbled drawings and random loops. Anything, to keep him from thinking about tonight.

The third night.

The night you died.

The night he dies.

Dean rubbed his eyes, and tried to ignore the headache that was starting just behind his eyes. He knew he looked a mess. Everyone had been giving him those odd looks that Dean usually reserved for the real weirdos. It felt odd to be on the receiving end. They were usually accompanied by the person looking away and quickening their pace ever so slightly.

The time seemed to be slipping away through his fingers like sand, and at the same time, Dean was sure that the clock was ticking even more slowly than usual specifically to spite him.

The day ended the same way it had begun, in a haze of ever growing terror that was turning his stomach into knots.

 

Dean was sitting quietly in his room when he heard Sam approaching. The footsteps got louder and stopped as Sam burst in (a feat since the door was so rusted) holding a book aloft, ignoring the pages that were slowly floating to the ground behind him. As he looked up, another page parted company with the volume and fluttered to the floor. Sam trod on it as he took another step forward.

“What?” said Dean. He knew Sam well enough to realise that the half smile on his face was more than just an I-did-the-assignment-you-forgot-about smirk. “Have you found something?”

“Sort of…” Sam hesitated. “It’ll work I think, but…”

Dean flung his hands up in exasperation and stood. “Come on Sammy out with it!”

“It’s a potential cure.” admitted Sam. “But—”

“But what?”

“But it’s kind of … erm …”

For some reason, Sam was looking particularly shifty. He wouldn’t meet Dean’s eyes.

“So we know that the Mare is a creature of darkness, right?”

“Right!” said Dean.

“And so something equally pure and good should kill it…”

“I guess.”

“Well, there have been some well known examples that could be a Mare’s influence, and that detail the ways that the victims were cured.”

Dean looked blank.

“Sleeping Beauty. The ‘evil fairy’,” Sam made air quotes with his hand, “could have been a Mare. Obviously some details are always different, and we can’t account for culture, but Sleeping Beauty was plunged into a deep sleep from which she was never meant to wake from, but she did. What do we know that breaks ‘curses’ like that?”

Dean shrugged. He remembered the movie nights that he had had with Castiel. He was pretty sure that he had fallen asleep during Sleeping Beauty. “I don’t know Sammy, I don’t go in for all this fairy tale stuff.”

“Come on Dean.”

“I can’t remember. She goes to sleep and then the prince turns up, and—” he trailed off.

“True love’s kiss.” finished Sam, holding the book up. On the page that it was open to, a man was leaning over a bed, on which lay a girl, her hair spread out around her.

“Are you comparing this, to … to that?!” Dean gestured from Castiel to the princess, who had flowers in her hair, winding around the bedposts. What if one went up her nose while she slept? A question that had never been answered properly, in his opinion.

“I think you’re missing the point Dean.”

“What point! Are you suggesting that we get someone to kiss Cas?”

Sam nodded.

“Who?” cried Dean, “we don’t know if he’s dating anyone, let alone whether his true love happens to be hiding round the corner! And you’re basing this off of one fairy tale, written a million years ago!”

Again, Sam wouldn’t meet Dean’s eyes.

“There are more instances of true love’s kiss killing a Mare; it would probably work.” he started, looking up. “I was thinking that… maybe….”

“What!” Dean tried to lower his voice, so the word that came out was more of a strangled yelp.

“I was thinking,” Sam looked like he was gathering his courage. He took a deep breath and continued, “Maybe you could kiss him.”

Chapter 7: Why Is Everything So Impossibly Difficult?

Notes:

Hello hello hello, as promised, another chapter. I would have posted it yesterday, but I had a really good book to finish, meaning that NOTHING was accomplished, including all the homework that I have to do as well…

Also, as some of you may have noticed, my italics are sorted out, thanks to my tech GENIUS best friend who told me how to do them, so a massive thank you to her, and Dean's thoughts are no longer in cringey quotation marks!!

So, thanks for hanging on another day :)

Updates from now should be weekly, so stay tuned, more is coming.

Kiss him?!

Dean stared at Sam in horror.

“Why don’t we call up the entire university! They can all have a go while we’re at it!”

Sam sighed. “Do you, or do you not want Cas to die?”

“Of course not!” Dean screeched. He hurriedly attempted to lower his voice. “But that doesn’t mean that I want to kiss him! I’m straight!”

There was no reply.

“I am!”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Sure Dean. But we’ve got to find something to do, or Castiel’s not going to make it.”

“He’s an … an angel isn’t he? Maybe he’ll fight it off by himself?”

Dean glanced at Castiel. He was lying motionless, breathing so shallowly that he couldn’t even hear it anymore. Sam was watching him.

“I don’t think he’ll be able to do it on his own.” Sam smiled wanly and tried to open the door subtly.

It didn’t work.

After forcing it open, to the door’s heavy protests, he disappeared down the corridor, the effect ruined slightly.

Dean was left standing alone in the middle of the room. The same phrase kept bouncing around inside his head, no matter how much he tried to block them out.

I can’t kiss him! He thought, I just … can’t!

Why not? Came the answer. He didn’t know which was worse at the moment, the mere suggestion of kissing his best friend, or the fact that he wanted to.

Do I want to?

No! He thought, screwing his face up in concentration and covering his eyes with his hand. He peered through his fingers at Castiel.

What if it worked? That was the question to consider. If it worked, then Castiel would be fine, and Dean could go back to their normal life. If it didn’t…

He pushed that thought out of his head.

That was not something he wanted to think about.

Why don’t you kiss him? Why shouldn’t you kiss him?

Because… Because he’s my friend. He’s my friend, and friends don’t go around giving each other true love’s kiss.

The light was fading fast. In the growing shadows, Castiel’s face was thrown into sharp contrast, half of it illuminated in a slash of yellowing light.

Dean slumped next to the bed, head in his hands.

After a minute, his breaths were louder than Castiel’s. After five, he couldn’t even hear them anymore.

Castiel’s chest was barely moving. Dean didn’t know if he preferred the silence, or the screaming.

If there was something to shoot, Dean would be happy. Give him a gun, and this whole situation would have been over before the damned creature got anywhere near Castiel. With guns, you knew there was something filled with all sorts of killable stuff. With guns, this kind of thing couldn’t even happen!

There was a kind of blankness filling his mind now. A sort of haze. Suddenly, all there was, was him. His face in the moonlight, the silver light casting odd shadows over everything. His closed eyes, hiding those brilliant blue irises. His chest, moving infinitesimally.

Leaning over the bed, Dean was suddenly aware that his face was inches away from Castiel’s. He squeezed his eyes shut, threaded his fingers through Castiel’s limp hand, and closed the distance.

There was nothing. Nothing except Castiel’s cold lips against his. For one perfect second, there was nothing.

As if waking up out of a trance, Dean jumped back as if he had been burned, tripped over his bed, and fell backwards, slamming his head on the wall.

The torrent of muffled swearing as he untangled himself from the duvet and ran his fingers over the back of his head was interrupted by Castiel's hoarse voice.

“Dean? What happened? You look terrible.”

Dean stood up and backed into a corner. All he wanted to do was grin from ear to ear, but that would probably look a little too weird. He was floating on air right now, and not sure whether that was good or bad… Relief was a strange emotion.

“You look… uh. Nevermind. Um…” In truth, Castiel looked perfect. But he did also look quite suspicious, so Dean mentally shook himself and attempted to change the tone.

“What do you remember?” he asked.

“I don’t-- I don’t remember much. Just school, and then…”

“Oh.”

Castiel ran his hand through his hair, and stood up, his eyes fixed on Dean, his brow furrowed.

“I should probably tell Gabriel you’re alive. I wouldn’t want him to worry-- or anything.” said Dean, trailing off and making a beeline for the door.

Castiel was looking even more confused than before. “Alive? I don’t-- How long was I-- What’s going--”

“Back in a minute!”

Once he was back in the corridor, and being ever-so-slightly rained on (someone had left a window open), he was able to think clearly again. It was obvious that Cas didn’t remember anything. He didn’t remember anything.

Dean shook his head hard, splattering the opposite wall with raindrops. What the hell is going on?

First of all, came a sense of reason in his jumbled thoughts, Sam said true love’s kiss, and it worked. Why would it work unless… No. Now was not the time to think about that. Now was the time to tell Sam and Gabriel that Castiel was alive, and not dead, because Dean had kissed--

“ARRGH.” Dean kicked a wall in frustration. He would most certainly not be mentioning that part of the day’s events to either Sam or Gabriel. Wincing, and hobbling slightly the rest of the way, he eventually found himself knocking on the door to room 98.

It was flung open almost immediately.

“What’s happened?” asked Gabriel, looking panicked. His hair was a little tangled, unlike his usual sleek and shiny style, and he had dark circles under his eyes.

“It’s fine.” said Dean. “Don’t worry. He’s alive, and awake, and he seems alright to me.”

Gabriel breathed a sigh of relief. He pushed past Dean, presumably on his way, and Dean didn’t move to stop him, or follow.

Sam pulled him inside.

“So?” he asked, and there was just a hint of expectation.

“So what.” said Dean waspishly, thinking of his still-throbbing foot.

Sam raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Did you ki--”

“I didn’t kiss him!” Dean scoffed. “He just… he just woke up. It must be an angel thing.”

“Oh.” replied Sam. Dean thought he could detect a note of disappointment in his voice. “Well I should go and say hello anyway. Are you sure you didn’t--”

“I think I would know if I kissed someone Sammy.”

“Oh. Well. Are you coming?”

“Sure.”

 

 

The door was propped open, so they were spared the trouble of forcing it’s stiff hinges almost to breaking point to get in. Castiel and Gabriel were sitting on Castiel’s bed, talking. Dean caught the end of their conversation.

“So you don’t remember anything? Do you know how you avoided …” Gabriel made a line across his throat with his hand. “Because I would have killed you if you died.”

Castiel glanced at Dean out of the corner of his eye. He still looked confused, and slightly dazed, and he spoke in a resigned sort of voice. “I don’t remember anything. It’s all just a blur I guess.”

“That’s useful.” said Gabriel, who seemed to have dropped all the concern for Cas in about a millisecond after seeing his apparent health for himself, and was back to his usual, sarcastic self. “Because Dean’s been acting weird, and you’re an amnesiac, so we have no idea whether this thing is alive, or dead or what.”

“I have not been acting weird!” protested Dean.

“Really?” said Gabriel, casting a withering look in his direction and rolling his eyes. “That’s the only thing you took away from that?”

Sam laughed, and leant forward to pat Castiel on the back. “We were worried about you man.”

“Oh I had to tell them we were angels Cas.” said Gabriel, almost as an afterthought.

It sounded like Castiel choked, and Sam clapped him hard on the back this time, until the coughing subsided.

“I’m sorry?” croaked Castiel. “You did WHAT?”

Gabriel folded his arms and grinned. “I regret nothing.”

Chapter 8: There's Always Someone Who Isn't Down With Murder

Notes:

Hey everyone, I had a song-on-repeat-exhaustion-fuelled-writing-session, which means another chapter today! (seriously though there will not be another one for at LEAST a week, so don't get too excited)

With this chapter ends the bank of prewritten ones I had edited to (sorta) perfection-ish, so the ones coming up will be more of a rough draft, but I shall inform you guys of any drastic edits/changes made to any previous chapters, so fear not

Thank you to my lovely commenters, you made my day :D

Enjoy :)

After a while, both Sam and Gabriel left. It was testament to the sheer amount of work that both of them were doing, that almost all their free time was taken up by studying, and neither of them complained. Dean was used to Sam acting like that, but he had thought that Gabriel wouldn’t have chosen a course that included so much extra effort.

“Why is Gabriel taking that course?” asked Dean. “Wouldn’t he prefer to be out … partying or whatever?”

Castiel smirked. “Our older brother Michael bet him that he couldn’t complete the course that he had chosen when he went here, so now Gabriel’s stuck with a much harder one than he planned. To be fair to him, he is doing quite well and not complaining much which is a blessing.”

Castiel frowned slightly again and turned to look at Dean. “I hope you won’t think of me any differently.”

“What? Why?” Dean was genuinely confused.

“The angel thing.” said Castiel.

“What, that? That doesn’t bother me.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t care if you’ve got a halo, or wings or— wait, do you have wings?”

“Yes, but you can’t see them.”

“That's awesome.” said Dean, grinning. “Whatever happens Cas, you’re still my best friend.”

It hurt more than he expected to say that. To watch Castiel frown ever so slightly, still looking confused.

“Thanks.” he replied. “It means a lot Dean.”

Dean smiled, trying to keep his expression light and happy, when all he wanted to do was possibly punch something, or kiss Castiel again. At the moment, punching something seemed like the better option.

He doesn’t like you like that. he thought, you can choose friendship, or you can choose no Cas.

Friendship it was.

“So.” he began, as a way to break the silence. “We need to find whatever tried to kill you, and kill it. Any ideas?”

“I suppose, we could do a sweep of everyone’s souls… I hadn’t considered it before, because we were trying to keep up the human charade, but you know now so that’s not a problem, and if the Mare is kind of latching onto someone’s soul, we’ll be able to see it.”

“Brilliant.”

“It’s going to take a couple of days, even with both of us, and I’ll probably have to check all the ones Gabriel does, because he’ll just glance at them and then miss something. So, we’re looking at a couple of days minimum?”

“That’s fine.”

 

That was how, two days later, Dean was sitting next to a squinting Castiel, deliberately not looking at the girl he was staring at.

“Anything?” he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

“No. They’re all fine.”

They had agreed that the lunch hall was probably the best bet, and where most people would congregate, which would save them time, and stop them from going door to door.

Sam was sitting across from Dean, next to Castiel, his nose buried in a thick, important looking book, and Gabriel had his feet on the table, and was scanning up and down the lunch queue, pausing on each person for a second, then moving on. He was eyeing a boy helping himself to green beans when the boy turned around and caught his eye. Gabriel winked roguishly, smirked as the boy promptly spilled all the green beans down his front, then turned to face Sam and Dean, suddenly serious.

“I got nothing guys, and it’s been days.”

“You’re just not looking hard enough.” snapped Castiel. “If you paid more attention then maybe--”

“Hey, it’s okay.” said Dean softly, patting Castiel on the shoulder. “It’s not going to be easy, and maybe we just need to wait and see.”

Castiel turned to look at him with those blue eyes, and Dean wanted to melt. Castiel’s frown softened slightly, and he nodded silently.

Castiel had been acting … weird, ever since he woke up. Half of the time he was irritable, and (figuratively) tried to bite the head off anyone who approached him, and the other half of the time he threw himself (if it was possible) into even more work than he had been doing before the Mare.

It was only with Dean that he really listened. Gabriel of course reacted explosively every time.

“Hey you!” he waved a hand in front of Castiel’s face and clicked several times. Castiel fixed him with a glare that could have turned someone to stone. “You’ve been acting like a total prick.” continued Gabriel, “snap at me one more time, and I swear to dad I’m gonna fill your SINUSES with--”

“If you touch me,” hissed Castiel in a low voice that sent shivers down Dean’s spine. “You’ll wake up without all of your--”

“Whoah, cool it!” said Sam, trying to keep a straight face. “As much as I love the creative threats, we have a class to get to, come on.”

Gabriel grinned, and all the animosity faded from his face in an instant. The thing about Gabriel was that his fits of temper were fiery, but brief. Dean had no idea how he could just switch off the savagery tap, but it was amazing to watch.

Castiel on the other hand, took a little longer to calm down. He was still muttering vague curses as they entered the lecture room. Dean just heard the end of one of them when it hit him.

“Don’t touch me.” he whispered to himself. “Don’t touch me.”

Castiel, whose hand was hovering over his shoulder, withdrew it quickly.

“Sorry.” he said in a hurt voice.

“No, no you’re fine.” said Dean hastily, patting Castiel’s hand. “I mean what if it’s spread by touch? What if whoever’s being possessed touches you, and passes on the disease kinda thing?”

“Dean, that's brilliant.” said Castiel in an awed voice. All his frustration at Gabriel vanished and he squeezed Dean’s hand. “Why didn’t we think of that before? Did anyone brush past me maybe? In the corridor? No, that's too vague. I can’t think--”

“That girl. That girl who shoved into you in the corridor! That b--”

“Dean be quiet. Stop yelling.”

Dean glanced around, and was surprised to see a couple of people fully turned in their chairs. He shot them a nasty look, then turned back to Cas, whose hair was sticking up haphazardly. He looked so beautiful that Dean was sure his heart skipped a beat, and that was saying something, because Dean didn’t go in for cringey romance like that.

“If we can find her, I am going to MURDER--”

“No you’re not.” said Castiel firmly.

“I’m not?”

“Because, it’s not her fault. She just got really, really unlucky.”

“I guess.” muttered Dean begrudgingly.

“This needs an exorcism, not a hit job. We just need to find Sam and-- Ow!” Castiel flinched, and rubbed his cheek, looking down onto the desk to find the thing that had hit him. “What on--”

“Psst!” came a sound from the doorway.

Dean looked up, but didn’t immediately see anything there. Then a hand was visible in the doorway, beckoning. Gabriel’s head poked in, and another arm hurled a pebble, which Dean blocked with his elbow. “What the hell? That hurts!”

He glanced at Castiel, who nodded. They both stood up quietly and disappeared into the corridor.

Sam and Gabriel were standing, Gabriel poised to throw another pebble.

“You could have taken my eye out.” said Dean peevishly. “What were you thinking chucking actual rocks at people!”

“Shut up and listen.” said Sam. “We know who the Mare is.”

“So do we. Well not technically, but we know how it’s doing it.”

“Oh.” Sam looked slightly put out. “Okay, her name is Emma--”

“I KNEW it.”

Gabriel covered his face in his hands.

“This is a mess guys. We need a solid plan.” he spoke through his fingers, his voice slightly muffled.

“Well if you’d let me finish then I was about to say that I can hack the student records, and get us her room number, then we can go back when it’s dark, and--”

“Not murder her, exorcise her.” interrupted Cas, looking at Dean with those blue eyes, wide and serious, and all Dean wanted to do was drown in them, swim down into those sapphire depths and never resurface, take Castiel’s face in his hands and kiss him until he couldn’t breathe anymore, and--

“When was murdering anyone ever an option?” asked Sam slowly and incredulously, looking from Castiel to Dean and back again. “I assume this is your input Dean?”

“Why does everyone always assume that I’m the one who’s down with murder?” said Dean, slightly annoyed at being jolted out of his reverie. “Although in this particular case--”

“NO.” said Sam, Castiel and Gabriel at the exact same time.

Chapter 9: Lucky Number Thirteen

Notes:

Hello hello hello guys I'm back!

I'm so sorry for the long wait - I fully expected to have this chapter out by at least Tuesday night, but then life got in the way and it's Thursday, so once again, I apologise.

Because of the lateness, it is once again unedited, so if there are any mistakes have pity please I am rushed off my feet XD

Anyways!

Enjoy :)

please please please comment and give kudos - it makes my week!

It was dark, and roughly three in the morning.

The moon, which usually filtered a thin stream of light in through the small windows, was covered in thick clouds. It had been raining on and off since sunset, and a light spattering of droplets were dripping down the glass.

The windows were shut this time.

Dean was trying not to step on every creaking floorboard, and failing miserably. Castiel, who seemed to have a tread so light it was almost undetectable, tiptoed down the corridor, hardly making a sound.

It was eerie in the stuffy darkness, the walls of the narrow corridor seeming to press down on him. The silence was like a gag, clogging his throat up with the dust of centuries.

Dean had thought it would be impossible for a university to be creepy, but now, glancing down the deserted passage, watching the shadows gently move with the clouds outside, he was distinctly unsettled.

Castiel knocked quietly on the door of room 98, and the door swung cleanly open. Gabriel pulled a long hatpin out of a pincushion on the desk, and grinned widely, thumbs up.

“We’re ready to go.” he hissed.

Sam ducked under the doorframe and nodded, clutching a thick and moulting book. He made a halfhearted grab for one of the pages but missed and let it fall to the floor. Dean raised his eyebrow and Sam rolled his eyes.

“I know exactly what pages we need.” he said dismissively, attempting to flick through the book to show him, but accidentally pulling out a wad of pages and a chunk of the lining. He sighed and stuffed it back in. “I found it in a trash can outside the library. It needs divine intervention if it’s going to survive another week.”

Dean held his hands up in mock surrender. “As long as you’ve got it I don’t care if you carved it into stone blocks. I just want to get this over with.”

“Ok.” said Castiel, as Sam was about to snap back. “We need to find room 13. I assume it’s on the ground floor?”

“Lucky number 13.” muttered Gabriel, grinning even wider. “This really is the highlight of my week.”

“Shut up and let’s go.”

 

The ground floor was made up of thick stone blocks, worn down over the years by thousands upon thousands of students, weighed down by bags and books and the paraphernalia of modern (and to be honest, ancient, Dean thought) life. The soles of his trainers were soundless, for once, and they moved quickly.

The lock was ridiculously easy to pick - it probably would have swung open had Dean merely waved a lockpick in it’s direction, but he did it the old fashioned way, and pushed the door to.

The room was dark.

The curtains were drawn, and everything was in shadow. Castiel was about to go in, but Dean held out a hand and stepped over the threshold himself first.

One of the beds was empty. The sheets and duvets were neatly folded in the centre, and Dean could smell dust. He turned to the other bed, hesitant, unsure of what he was going to find.

The other bed was lit by the light from the corridor. On top of the covers, on her back, hands by her side, lay a girl. Her eyes were wide, unblinking, staring at the ceiling with a glazed expression. Every so often one of her fingers twitched.

It didn’t look like she was breathing.

Her lips were slightly parted, and her hair was spread out on the pillow. She looked remarkably like the picture of sleeping beauty that Sam had shown Dean.

“I don’t know about you but I am super creeped out right now.” Gabriel’s whisper broke the silence and Dean jumped.

“It is … quite … unsettling.” said Castiel, and he met Dean’s eyes across the room.

Sam waved the book, and opened it, clutching the pages that tried to flutter free.

“Okay.” he said. “So, we need the Mare back in her properly, so we can exorcise it. At the moment it’s sort of using her body and floating off looking for fresh victims. If we harm the vessel, then it will bring the Mare back--”

“Alright, thanks Sam, so, who’s for stabbing her then?” asked Dean, raising his knife. Castiel grabbed his wrist and lowered it. The contact sent a wave of electricity through Dean’s body, and for a moment, he forgot why he had a valid reason for stabbing someone. It was so hard to think straight when Castiel was holding his hand.

“Or,” offered Gabriel, “we could use my hatpin. Which I bought. Specially. I don’t even own a hat, but here we are.”

“We’re using Gabriel’s hatpin,” said Sam firmly.

“Fine.” grumbled Dean. Castiel squeezed his wrist.

Gabriel approached the figure slowly, hatpin raised. He pricked the girl’s finger gently.

Nothing happened.

For one, long second, there was silence.

Then, there was a whooshing noise, and all the lights blew out, illuminating the room in a flash of brilliant white. Glass rained down on them, and Dean pulled Castiel closer, using the boy’s grip on his wrist, using his free arm to shield both of them.

“Get reading Sammy.” he hissed, trying to keep his voice a whisper. If anyone woke up, then there would be hell to pay.

Sam began to read, his voice low, his feet crunching on the remains of the lightbulbs.

There was a crackling, as if of electricity, and the girl sat bolt upright, her eyes still wide open, her hands still twitching at her sides.

There was an odd kind of wheezing sound and the girl started to cough, slumping back onto the bed, convulsing.

Castiel made a move forward, and Dean held out a warning hand. He didn’t want Castiel anywhere near the twitching girl.

“I’m fine Dean.” said Castiel, managing to sound exasperated whilst keeping his voice low.

“Hey, I’m just taking precautions.” replied Dean, hurt. “What's up with you anyway? You’ve been really weird all week.”

“Nothing.” Castiel snapped. “I could say the same about you.”

Dean dropped his hand. All the pent up frustration from the last few days - everything he felt for Castiel all turned to annoyance. Castiel was beautiful, and funny, and adorable, and just really, really dense sometimes.

Sam’s reading grew slightly louder. Dean ignored it.

“I’m your best friend Cas! You’re meant to tell me stuff! But you wake up from a three day coma, pretending that nothing happened, and you blank me all week!” he half-shouted.

Castiel raised his eyebrows. “What was I meant to remember Dean? Huh? I wake up and you start acting like I killed your cat! How is this my fault?!”

“It is your fault! It’s your fault because-- because--” Dean faltered. Castiel scoffed.

“Not everything is about YOU Dean!”

“It’s not about ME, it’s about US. Goddammit, can't you SEE?”

“SEE WHAT!”

“THAT I LIKE YOU!”

Castiel blinked.’

“I kissed you.” said Dean softly, staring into Castiel’s wide blue eyes. “I kissed you and you don’t remember…”

“Of course I remember.” whispered Castiel.

He stepped forward, took Dean’s face in both hands and pulled him forward. Inches apart, Dean was aware of his heartbeat rocketing.

He closed his eyes and leaned forward. Castiel pulled him closer, and Dean wrapped his arms around his waist. Castiel’s lips were just as soft as he remembered, and now, with Castiel’s hands in his hair, everything was going very hazy very quickly. Castiel smelled like old books, and coffee, and Dean revelled in it.

There was a cough. Breaking the kiss, Dean turned to see Sam smirking at him.

“I KNEW it.” he exclaimed.

Gabriel was standing next to the bed, and Dean turned to see him helping the girl to her feet, in a patch of floor that the glass shower had missed.

“Don’t get cocky.” muttered Dean, turning back and grinning at Castiel, who was looking dazed and very happy.

Sam was still wearing the same I-knew-it-my-ship-is-sailing expression.

Gabriel shut the door behind the unfortunate girl, who was muttering something along the lines of ‘what happened?’, and turned back to face the rest of them.

“She’s going off to the medical centre. Now that this Mare business is over, I’m going to get some sleep. All this love in the air is giving me a migraine.”

Dean expected Castiel to say something back, but he just took Dean’s hand and smiled.

And for now, that was enough.

Chapter 10: It Was All Going So Well...

Notes:

Hi guys!!!

I feel kinda bad about updating with only this chapter, but eh, you all shall just have to grin and bear it, i'm really sorry, but another chapter would mean a longer wait, so your decision...

it will get better promise :D

anyways, thank you SO MUCH to people who have commented and kudosed, please keep doing so i love you all <3

(did i mention how much i love writing destiel fluff scenes? no? well i absolutely do)

enjoy!!

Dean pulled Castiel down the corridors, ignoring the creaking sounds that echoed around the narrow passage. It didn’t matter that everyone was probably being rudely awoken at half past one in the morning. The only thing that mattered was that Castiel had kissed him. He was still in a state of half shock, half disbelief.

Sam had tried to lecture Dean about lying to him outright about kissing Castiel, and Dean had been about to make a rude remark back, when to his surprise it was Gabriel who intervened, pulling Sam away with a muttered excuse about an 8am lecture the next morning.

Dean hadn’t complained.

They reached their room, out of breath, and Castiel’s eyes were sparkling brighter than Dean had ever seen before.

Dean had barely kicked the door shut, before he was pulling Castiel closer to him, grinning. Their faces were inches apart now, and Castiel was smiling too.

“I can’t believe,” said Dean, as Castiel slung his arms around his neck, “that you blanked me for a week, because you were faking amnesia.”

“I was not.” protested Castiel, “you were the one who kissed me and then decided not to mention it for seven days…”

“I guess things could have been a little more straightforward.” admitted Dean. “But, we got there in the end, right?”

“Absolutely.” agreed Castiel, one hand in Dean’s hair and the other cupping his face. He pulled him closer. Dean tightened his grip on Castiel’s waist, leaning into the kiss. It was slow, and sweet, and he was savouring every second.

The butterfly sensation that was so often described was much more like fireworks for him, and now he just wanted to be as close to Castiel as possible.

After a while, which could have been minutes, or days, or even years - Dean was past caring at this point - they were tangled up on Dean’s bed, Castiel’s head on his shoulder, their hands entwined.

“Do you want to watch Sleeping Beauty?” asked Dean, and he could feel Castiel laugh.

“Sure.”

He leant over, and pulled his laptop out of his bag. This time, instead of balancing it precariously, he just stood it on Castiel’s bed, which was close enough to reach and meant the screen wasn’t too far away.

It took a minute for the website to load, and for a second Dean was sure that he had just let a bunch of malware into his computer drive, but then the picture cleared up, and the familiar(ish) music began to play.

 

 

He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but he was woken by a loud knocking on the door.

Sunlight was filtering through the window, and as he stirred drowsily, he was aware of something in his arms.

Castiel’s head was buried in his chest, and Dean’s arms encircled him. He couldn’t even remember getting past ‘Once Upon a Dream’, and he had definitely been tired enough, but even though he couldn’t move his neck yet, it had been the best night’s sleep he’d ever gotten.

“Cas.” he muttered, “hey, wake up.”

Castiel groaned.

Dean sighed and very, very reluctantly untangled himself, and stood up. Running his hand through his hair and blinking several times, he opened the door and gasped.

Standing in the doorway was John Winchester.

Behind him, wearing an expression of grave indifference, was Sam.

“Dad.” spluttered Dean, shooting Sam a confused look. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“It’s good to see you son.” said John gruffly, patting Dean awkwardly on the shoulder. “Sorry for waking you up.”

“No, it’s fine.” said Dean, confusion fading and suspicion rising to take its place.

“Listen Dean - can I come in?” John stepped into the tiny room, and nodded at Castiel. “Who’s this?”

“This is Cas, my-- my best friend, and roommate.” Dean tried to send Castiel a look that communicated everything from apology to caution, and Castiel nodded ever so slightly, smiled and held his hand out.

“I’m Castiel. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah.” said John vaguely. “Anyway, Dean, look, I’m finished.”

“What do you mean?” the suspicion grew.

“I’m all finished up with my trip,” continued John, looking at Castiel out of the corner of his eye. Castiel had gone to stand next to Sam, who had his arms crossed tightly. They both looked grim. “So I think it’s about time we head home.”

“Home?”

“Home. You know, the States.”

“Why? I thought that I was staying here while Sammy finished school?”

John laughed. “It was only ever a temporary thing Dean. I need someone to help me back home, and it’s not like you ever really cared much about school, is it?”

“I don’t know,” said Dean helplessly. “I’m actually enjoying it more than I thought I would. England’s not that bad to be honest.”

“This isn’t a discussion, Dean. I need you to be packed and ready in ten - there’s a car outside.”

“I don’t want to go!” Dean said, starting to get annoyed now. “Is it so much to ask that I stay and get a degree?”

John gave him one of his warning looks. Dean opened and shut his mouth several times, trying to think of something useful to say. He couldn’t leave! He had just got his life settled down here, and he had just met someone he genuinely liked and wanted to be with him. He didn’t want to be uprooted and carted back to America like a suitcase.

“Dad,” said Sam from the doorway, “I think Dean fits in really well here. If you need someone back home then I could--”

“No.” interrupted Dean, his voice sharp.

“But--”

“I said, it’s fine.” said Dean, his heart sinking, and his tone flat. “I’ll go.”

John nodded, and stood up, picking his way through the tiny room to reach the door.

“I’ll see you in a few minutes then.” he said, yanking the door shut behind him.

Dean was left standing in the middle of the room, not daring to look at either Sam or Castiel.

“He can’t just walk in here and demand you leave at the drop of a hat!” snapped Sam, throwing his hands up. “Dean, you don’t have to go with him.”

But Dean was well aware of the familiar feeling. It was the same kind of feeling he got whenever John would drag him off on yet another hunting trip. The kind of feeling when he knew he was being forced into something, and try as he might, there was no getting out of it.

“It’s alright, I don’t mind.” He had never been much of an actor.

The silence that greeted his statement confirmed this.

“You’re kidding right?” asked Sam, raising an eyebrow. “You literally just met the first person I think you actually like, and now you’re super keen to fly straight back to the US?”

“Dean, I don’t like him. I know he’s your father, but--”

“Cas, seriously, no one likes him. Dean just has ‘I-must-impress-dad-at-all-costs syndrome’ and unfortunately, it seems to be incurable.” said Sam loudly, and deliberately staring right at him.

Dean avoided his eyes, and instead looked at Castiel, who’s large blue eyes were concerned. “I know he doesn’t seem all that great. I don’t want to go, but what choice do I have? You know how these types of arguments always play out. Come on Sammy, it’s not that simple for me.”

Sam’s expression softened. “I know that Dean, but you can’t keep letting him push you around!”

“I could go with you if you wanted.” offered Castiel, and Dean’s heart did a loop-the-loop.

“That’s not fair on you Cas. I really really like you, so that’s why you’ve got to stay here.”

Castiel nodded.

“But don’t think for a second that you’ve got rid of me. Come here.”

The hug was brief, but Dean felt like it lasted for eternity. He buried his face in Castiel’s shoulder, breathing in the faint smell of coffee, and old books. It felt like home now.

“Call me every day.” came a muffled voice from around his chest.

“Oh I will.” said Dean, squeezing Castiel tighter.

“Guys…” groaned Sam, in a put upon kind of voice. “I am standing right here.”

“Go away then.” replied Dean bluntly.

Sam made a retching noise.

 

Ten minutes later, on the dot, Dean had shoved all of his weapons back into their duffel bag, and was standing on the university steps, feeling the worst he had felt in a long time.

An unfamiliar car pulled up onto the gravel, and the passenger door opened.

Dean sighed and stepped forward. He dumped the weapons bag onto the backseat, and then sat down, taking one last fleeting glance at the castle as they drove away.

It was all going so well.

Chapter 11: What The Fricken' Hell Even Is This

Notes:

Hello my lovelies, thank you for being patient with me <3

My excuse for the lateness of this chapter, is that I have literally got COVID at the moment (thanks to my sister who got it and gave it to me) so am in the middle of my isolation-ing, but luckily I have very mild symptoms at present, which kind of nullifies my excuse, because now I have ten days at home to (you would think) get loads of writing done, but nah, my brain doesn't work like that...

I've discovered new songs by one of my favourite bands, and for some reason that has manifested itself in loads of weird metaphors and similes ... soooo ... sorry if it's cringey :D

Enjoy!!

The car was silent.

It was another rental, since they were still in England. It was a brute of an RV, with a hulking menace that Dean didn’t think that a car should have.

Still in the UK for an indefinite amount of time, Dean thought, but he brushed it away. Soon they would be on a plane, back to America, and everything would be just a dream. He could deal with everything then.

John drove through the lanes just over the limit, making hairpin turns at a speed that should not be maintained if living for another year was on your to-do list. Holding onto the side of his seat, and trying not to look at the hedges speeding past, Dean ground his teeth, and glared at his father out of the corner of his eye.

After almost half an hour of reckless driving, car horns blaring at them, and diving into the bushes to avoid the other cars on the one track road, John pulled into a lay-by.

They sat in silence, the seconds ticking by, until Dean broached the silence, his voice as peevish as he felt.

“What. Are we waiting for someone?”

“No son, no, I’ve got a job for you.”

“Hold up,” said Dean, angry now. “I thought that we were going back to the US. I thought you were dragging me out of school for no good reason, I thought--”

“You thought wrong.” replied John, his words cold, sharp and clear, though they were not loud. “I have my reasons.”

Dean flinched. “Okay.”

“I have a job for you.” he repeated, staring out of the windshield.

“What job?” his voice was monotone now, low and expressionless. There was no point in arguing.

“In that school, there are creatures. They need to be completely exterminated, otherwise who knows what’s gonna happen. The recent murders are because of them I’m sure.”

“Oh that. No, that was a Mare, we sorted it out. It was quite easy to deal with actually.”

And all of a sudden, all he could think about was Castiel. The way he stood, his hair, which stuck up in all directions, managing to look effortlessly unruffled at the same time. His eyes, blue like the ocean, blue like sapphires, a blue that, whilst it’s essence existed in the most beautiful of natural wonders, was unlike anything that nature could create. It was an angelic blue, a mix of the darkening sky, sprinkled with splashes of the sun-kissed ripples on a lake. It was the kind of blue that Dean had been drowning in ever since he had looked in those eyes for the first time.

John chuckled mirthlessly. “I doubt that son. These … creatures are ruthless. What we’re looking for are angels.”

“W-What.” stammered Dean, nearly incoherent with half formed terror. “N-no, angels don’t-- they aren’t--”

“You need to find them, and kill them. Do I make myself clear?”

“No! You can’t--”

“Dean! What is wrong with you? If I had known this would happen when I let you attend school, I wouldn’t have let you go!”

“Nothing’s wrong with me! I’m just saying that you’re wrong.”

“You find out who these angels are, and you call me, or deal with them yourself, got it?” there was a cold menace in John’s voice now.

“I don’t-- Why didn’t you ask Sam?”

“He’s got work to do. Come on Dean,” John attempted a jovial tone with effort, reaching out to pat Dean's shoulder. “It’s not like you would have passed anyway, huh.”

Dean was speechless. John obviously took his silence as compliance and fished something out of a bag on the back seat.

“This,” he said, flourishing the shining dagger. “Is an angel blade - the only weapon that can kill those things. I had to get this one off the bugger it belonged to. You’re going to need it.”

“I’m not going to need it because I’m not going to do it!” Dean tried to get out of the car, but it was locked. “How do you have child lock on the front seat?!”

“Precautions.”

“No, let me out, I'm sick of this.”

“You haven’t got a choice kid.”

Dean couldn’t do anything except open and close his mouth. This was ridiculous.

He hadn’t even noticed that they were driving again until they pulled up in front of the university.

“What was the point in making me pack up all my stuff then? If you were just going to bring me back?”

“I needed an excuse.”

“And that was the best you could come up with.”

“Don’t get smart with me son.”

Dean shut his mouth and stared at the building.

“I don’t like your attitude.” continued John, glaring at Dean’s resolute side profile. “You do not get to talk to me like this. If this is how you feel, then I’ll do it myself then.”

Absolutely not, end of story, no way. I am not letting you within fifteen feet of my sort-of-boyfriend, you’ve got to be kidding.

Was what he did not say out loud. Instead, he said, “No, it’s fine, I’ll deal with it. Find them and kill them right?”

“Discreetly.” said John, nodding. “Who knows how deeply they’ve insinuated themselves into the student body. Oh, and make sure Sammy studies hard.”

Dean didn’t reply, but got out of the car without another word, reluctantly taking the angel blade that John had shoved into his hand. The childlock had been removed.

He pulled his duffel bags out of the boot, and trudged up the drive, with the blade feeling uncomfortably heavy in his inside pocket. As soon as he found a deserted corner, he shoved it right to the bottom of his bag. He would not be needing that.

 

He slid into the lecture hall twenty minutes, sitting down at the back next to Castiel, in what had become known as their spot. Castiel did a double take, glancing back when he opened the door, then back to his notes, and then back again, an incredulous expression on his face.

“I thought you would be going through security right now? How come you’re back?”

“I’m … I’m just … really persuasive I guess.” Dean trailed off, momentarily disarmed by the sparkle in Castiel’s eyes. He had no idea why he was not spilling everything there and then, but he had a tight feeling in his stomach. What if he repeated everything truthfully, and Castiel hated him for it? He couldn’t risk that happening.

Castiel held out his hand, and Dean took it, threading his fingers through the other boy’s. It felt like a lifeline.

If he was drowning in Castiel’s eyes, then at least it was peaceful, surrounded by cool blue, sinking slowly, content.

Now, he felt like he was choking, unable to breathe properly, and Castiel’s hand was pulling him out of a storm-tossed sea, and he was wearing his trenchcoat, the sleeves brushing against the back of his hands, and he squeezed Dean’s hand gently, as if to remind him that he wouldn’t let go.

With his free hand, he typed a slow, deliberate sentence at the bottom of his notes.

You can talk to me about anything you know. Living with Gabriel means I’m a very good listener, promise :)

“I know.” breathed Dean. “I know.”

Then Castiel smiled, and Dean stopped fighting for air, letting the cool aquamarine envelop him once more. It was a different kind of drowning.

It was deliberately swimming downwards, seeing how far he could go before the current pulled him under. It was letting that current take him further. It was slowly realising that he was head over heels in love with Castiel.

Watching him now, trying to type one handed, brows furrowed in concentration, eyes flicking from his laptop screen to the powerpoint, turning the screen so that Dean could see the weird picture of--

“Is that meant to be a vampire?!” Dean hissed.

Castiel nodded, biting his lip to try and keep from laughing. “You go on and on about them.”

“I was hoping they’d crop up, although, someone needs to check their sources. You don’t stake them, chop their heads off. Amateurs.”

“That’s probably why this village was supposedly wiped out. They should have called you. Dean Winchester to the rescue.”

“Exactly.” Dean grinned. He liked the sound of ‘Dean Winchester to the rescue’.

 

He only realised later, sitting in his room alone (Castiel had gone to help Gabriel with a particularly difficult assignment) that Castiel had made him completely forget about his father.

How does he always know exactly what to say? Dean thought, smiling to himself.

“You are so lucky Dean Winchester.”

Dean glanced around for the source of Sam’s voice. He was leaning against the doorframe, crouching slightly because he was too tall.

“Yeah, I am.”

“So,” Sam sat down next to Dean, “What happened with dad? Spill, Dean, I want to know ev-er-y-thing.” he said, stretching ‘everything’ into four syllables.

Dean groaned. “It’s a literal car crash, but sure.”

Chapter 12: I Would Say I'm Not A Romantic, But I'd Be Lying. Through My Teeth.

Notes:

hey my lovelies, i am so sorry for being MIA for so long. i honestly don't quite know what happened - i had writer's block for so long, and then all my exams are coming up, so i didn't have much time spare anyways, but, like i have mentioned, i'm invested, so it's going to be (kind of) full steam ahead from now (possibly (hopefully).

i haven't edited this chapter properly, so apologies for any mistakes there may well be, i was just more concerned about getting it out asap so that you would have something to read...

this chapter was a lot of fun to write tbh, so i hope you enjoy it :D

i hope you all have amazing weeks and months and everything. i love you guys <3

Dean explained everything to Sam, whilst the latter listened dumbfoundedly.

“I assume that you didn’t come out to dear old dad then…” said Sam half jokingly, as a way to break the brittle silence.

Dean hit him on the shoulder, not hard, but still enough to make Sam try and hit him back, which he dodged.

“Of course I didn’t come out to dad, what are you, retarded? I just sat there and mumbled. This is so stupid, I should have—“

“This is stupid, but not because of you. Please remember that. You can tell Cas in your own time - it’s up to you, and you were just trying to keep him safe. It’s not like you’re suddenly going to decide that the boy you’ve liked for ages is a threat to society, and must be taken out before the world is destroyed.”

“Yeah,” nodded Dean, trying to convince himself. “Yeah exactly.”

“But you should tell him eventually.” continued Sam, looking intently over Dean’s shoulder, avoiding his eyes.

Dean put his head in his hands and shrugged. “Why? It just makes everything ten times harder.”

“Because it shows that you trust him.”

Dean did have an answer for that. Of course he trusted Cas. It was ridiculous even to consider for one second that he didn’t. It was just, the less Cas was mixed up in John Winchester’s affairs the safer he would be.

I can’t risk losing him.

It was as simple as that.

“I have an idea.” Sam’s voice broke the silence again.

“What?” Dean asked, jolted out of his reverie.

“Have you two actually gone on a date yet? I mean apart from your make out session when we were exorcising that mare?”

“That was not a ‘make out session’!” protested Dean, “but now that you mention it, no.”

“Go on then, ask him out - a real date. Do something really romantic. Be really cheesy and cringey and stay the hell away from me while you’re doing it, because I don’t want to have to witness the weird staring thing that you do when you think the other’s not looking.”

“What staring thing?! We don’t do a staring thing?”

“I have eyes, Dean, and they function perfectly well. But that really shouldn’t be the thing that you take away from this. You’re so clueless sometimes.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll ask him out - but none of that lovey dovey nonsense - some of us don’t behave like three year olds.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You’re ridiculous sometimes.”

“I’m not ridiculous.” muttered Dean, rolling his eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

 

Dean wasn’t sure why his heart was pounding so much.

He tried to be casual, but the odd look Castiel had given him when he sat down next to him in the library had not been comforting.

“Uhh.” Dean coughed hurriedly, trying ineffectually to clear his throat, which had suddenly gone very dry very inexplicably. “Hey.”

“What’s up?” said Castiel, smiling softly.

“Um. Uhh, I was wondering, um, whether-you-would-like-to-go-out-with-me-sometime-possibly-tonight-because-I-know-you’ve-got-no-assignments-obviously-it’s-fine-if-you-say-no-that’s-cool-too.”

“I didn’t quite catch that Dean?” Castiel cupped one hand around his ear and smirked. Watching Dean going even more steadily red must have triggered something in him, because he poked him playfully. “I’m kidding. I would love to go out with you. What did you have in mind?”

Dean let out the breath he had been holding and winked. “It’s a surprise. Meet me out by the benches at say, six-ish?”

“Sure.”

 

Dean had never put more thought into anything he had ever done in his life. He had willingly left campus and ventured into the fields to find a supermarket where he had picked up as many marshmallows as he thought anyone could possibly eat, along with bread to toast, blankets, because England was cold at night, sticks for toasting said marshmallows etc. He had thought of everything.

What he had not anticipated was Castiel looking so … perfect.

With the gentle light of the fire (it wasn’t properly dark yet) flickering on his face, illuminating his glittering eyes, and the trench coat collar turned up slightly

Dean was properly struck dumb.

It was all very poetic, he thought, trying to pretend he was annoyed about it.

It didn’t take much to get Castiel talking. Dean got the feeling that he hadn’t spoken to anyone about very much at all for too long.

“Michael’s fine I guess, but he’s so obsessed with image. They all get each other but they don’t get me.” continued Cas, “I hate being so different sometimes.”

“Take it from someone who’s tried to fit in their whole life. Different is a whole lot better than trying to fit in with every stupid choice that your family makes. It’s important to be your own person.”

Castiel met his eyes in the growing darkness, and it felt like something unspoken flick between them, gentle as a butterfly’s wing, soft as a feather.

Dean held out his arm, and Castiel moved closer, leaning his head on his shoulder. He tried to stop himself from going into cardiac arrest right there and then.

“Human emotions are hard to understand, Dean,” Castiel’s voice was soft in the silence, “but I feel different when I’m with you. I always feel different.”

Dean sighed. “Cas, when I’m with you, it’s like the whole world just … stops. It’s so calm. I can always see everything so clearly. For once in my life I just see one person.”

He looked deep into the embers, trying to stretch one moment into forever. He frowned, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Cas?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever toasted a marshmallow before?”

“No?”

Dean grabbed the hand Castiel held his toasting stick in, and pulled it out of the flames. The sizzling remains of burnt sugar dripped off the stick and into the grass. Dean burst out laughing.

“Is that not what it’s meant to look like? I don’t-- Dean, stop laughing!”

“I-- Sorry--” Dean wheezed, grabbing the bag of marshmallows and dropping them into Castiel’s lap. “Here, let me show you.”

He pulled his perfectly toasted marshmallow out from just above the flames, and held it out. Castiel tentatively pulled it off the stick and then shoved the whole thing into his mouth.

“That is so good.” he mumbled through a mouthful of marshmallow fluff.

“I know right? You’re not meant to deep fry them though. ‘Lightly toast’ is the expression I would use.”

Castiel settled himself back onto Dean’s shoulder, and stared into the flames. He smelled like burnt sugar, along with the usual old books and the trenchcoat, which reminded Dean of something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It might have been cedarwood. Whatever it was, it smelled amazing.

Dean stretched his arm back round Castiel’s shoulders, pulling him closer. They sat in silence like that for a while longer, watching the sparks flying around the top of the fire.

After a while, Castiel’s breathing became more even. Dean didn’t want to move, in case he disturbed him, but that was soon taken out of his hands.

He felt one fat raindrop splash onto the top of his head before the heavens opened, and it started to pour down as if there hadn’t been rain in years.

Castiel let out a screech, as Dean felt all the breath rush out of him. The water was icy cold.

Dean pulled Castiel to his feet, and abandoning everything, they rushed into the cloisters, dripping wet, exhilarated. The cloisters were lit by a soft yellow glow, and Castiel poured a puddle full of water out of his sleeve, before pulling Dean closer until their foreheads were touching. Castiel’s other hand caressed his cheek, and Dean wondered whether it was possible to be more in love with anything. He put his hands on Castiel’s waist, pulling him even closer than they were already.

“Thank you for the best date ever.”

“That’s what you get when you date me.” smirked Dean, then he smiled properly. “I’m really glad that you liked it. Hopefully the rain didn’t spoil anything.”

“I don’t think anything can go wrong when I’m with you.”

“You’re sweet.”

“That’s why you love me.”

Dean’s breath caught in his throat.

“Yeah.” he breathed. “I do.”