SPN episode codas (Destiel)

10.20 - Angel Heart

Dean leans against the wall between a Hot Topic and a Sunglass Hut, sipping an Orange Julius and housing Auntie Anne's while he debates between Chinese and Cajun. Chinese will still be good tomorrow morning, and Cajun might not sit right. All those spices.

He checks his watch. It's almost nine. The mall will be closing soon, and Cas has been in the damned store for at least twenty minutes. The Mark is restless. If Dean doesn't get out of here soon, he's going to break something, maybe punch the head off one of those carousel horses.

He pokes his head inside Hot Topic, careful not to step past the threshold-there's no way he's tossing this smoothie to help Cas shop; the thing tastes like bananas and oranges. The only thing that would make it better is a shot of rum.

Cas isn't directly in view. He must be behind a display or bent over-fantastic. Dean tries another tactic and shuts his eyes.

Cas, you 'bout done in there?

He waits a few seconds for the prayer to transmit, but when Cas doesn't immediately appear, Dean cracks an eye open and tries again.

C'mon, man. We can't leave Sammy alone with the kid. Who knows what he's showing her.

He passes another few seconds by slurping loudly through his straw and winks at a frumpy woman who gives him a sideways glare and shifts her purse to her other shoulder.

Cas. Castiel, talk to me. Is this thing on?

Nothing. He goes for the low blow.

Earth to Cas. You take any longer and there won't be time for the carousel.

Cas appears in the doorway, a shock of khaki against a backdrop of black and morbid red. He scowls.

"That's not how prayer works."

"I don't know," Dean quips. "It got your ass out here."

"You need to see this."

"I'm eating."

"Dean," Cas says, low and insistent.

Dean gives in since it's easier than putting up with Cas's sulking later in the car. He tucks the pretzel into its bag and folds it tight, holding it under his arm and keeping the smoothie low against his hip so the sales girl can't see it. He follows Cas to the back of the store, which is dark and thrumming with shitty music. Cas stops in front of a display and jabs a finger toward it.

Dean snorts.

"What do you know," he says, picking up the three-inch vinyl version of his brother in a red shirt with a knife in his fist. "It almost looks like him. Oh, hey, there's one of you."

He notices a moment too late that the figure is covered in blood and leviathan ooze. It drips down the figure's forehead and is splattered over his jacket and shirt. Cas patently doesn't look at it. Dean sets it down like it burns and turns away, taking a few breaths to compose himself.

It's just a toy. It's just a fucking toy, and that was years ago.

Cas steps close to him and holds out a t-shirt with two faces on it-they don't really look like Dean or Sam, but Edlund hadn't done a great job with their descriptions. Sammy's got frigging antlers and Dean's sporting a pair of rodent ears. It says "Moose and Squirrel."

"Do you think Crowley is behind this?" Cas asks, squinting as he glances toward the checkout counter.

"Nah, just real enthusiastic fans," Dean says, putting the shirt back on the shelf. Guess takeout is off the menu. He slings his free arm around Cas's shoulders and changes the subject. "So. What're you getting her?"