Writing's on the Wall Destiel

Chapter 7

The Next Day

"So you're saying an angel pulled you out of hell?" Sam asked excitedly.

Dean rubbed his forehead. "Look, I'm not sure okay. That's what he said he was."

"Well, he probably is a real angel."

"I don't believe it."

"Then tell me what else it could be."

"Sam, all I know is that an angel did not grope me."

"Why would he lie to you about that? Castiel, I mean?"

Dean shrugged. "Maybe he's some kind of demon. Demons lie."

"A demon who's immune to salt rounds and devil's traps... and Ruby's knife? Dean, Lilith is scared of that thing!"

"But..." Dean ran his hand through his hair until he thought of something. "Don't you think that if angels were real, that some hunter somewhere would have seen one... at some point... ever?"

"You just did," Sam pointed out.

"I'm trying to come up with a theory, dude. Help me out here."

"Dean, you secretly know it's true. You believe it. I can see it in your eyes." Sam stepped closer to Dean. "I know you don't want to-"

"Yeah. And you know why?" Dean glared at Sam. "Where were the angels when Mom died, huh? Where were they then? How can there be angels, much less God if He would let that happen?!" His voice calmed, but his expression did not. "Oh, yeah, and if there is a God, why would he give a rat's ass about me?"

Sam looked at Dean carefully. Did he really think so low of himself? "Because he's God, Dean. Capital G. He gives a rat's ass about everyone."

"Nice try, but I don't believe it. Any of it." Dean stood up and grabbed his coat, heading out the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Getting a drink!" Dean yelled over his shoulder before slamming the door shut.

Sam turned to Bobby, who had been watching the scene unfold. "Should I get him?"

"Let that boy cool off. He needs it, anyway."

Dean's eyes were hard as he pressed his foot on the gas pedal as hard as he could, exerting all his anger into it. A burning fire was building in his heart, the core of unspilled tension and emotion. Slowly it rose, rose and rose, until it erupted from his mouth in a screaming fit.

He pulled over and parked, sinking his head into his heads. "Son of a bitch," he mumbled.

There was the flapping of wings and a gentle voice asking, "Dean?"

Dean raised his head to see Castiel, sitting in the shotgun seat with a worried expression on his face. "Go away, Cas."

"You're not okay, therefore, I'm not leaving you." Castiel wanted to reach out a hand to rest on Dean's shoulder, but he knew he'd be crossing the line. "What's wrong?"

Dean laughed bitterly. "What's wrong? I don't believe an angel saved my sorry ass from hell, that God, if there is a God, gives two shakes of a rat's ass about me, demons are invading the town, and everything I've known is crashing and burning and you're asking what's wrong?"

When Castiel didn't respond, Dean looked up and saw a look of hurt and resignation on the angel's face. "I'm sorry, Cas. Just this whole thing is stressing me out, you know? I didn't mean to take it out on you."

Now blue eyes met green. "It's alright. I understand. Do you want to talk about it?"

"What's there to talk about?"

"Dean.....tell me."

Dean blew out a big breath. "First, you gotta promise me something- two things, actually."

"Of course."

"Are you really an angel?"

"Yes," Castiel answered without batting an eye.

"If you ever tell Sam we had this discussion-"

"I won't."

"Good." Dean sat back in his seat. "I just don't understand, Cas. How can there be a God with all this bad stuff going on? Isn't he supposed to step in, help us?"

"We can't fully appreciate the good God brings without some evil in the world, Dean. I'm sure you of all people understand that. And He does help. He sends these little things called miracles."

"Why would he even pay attention to me? I'm..I'm like a rat compared to him."

Castiel hesitantly rested a hand on Dean's shoulder, who stiffened at first but gradually began to lean into the touch. "You're worth it to him. He sent me to pull you out in the first place."

"Don't angels have, like, a strict code not to bring people up from hell?"

"That is correct." Castiel took his hand off. "Angels have no exceptions."

"You made an exception for me."

"You're different." Castiel shifted and looked Dean in the eye. There was a few moments of awkward silence before Dean confessed, "You know you're my best friend, right?"

"What-"

"Just go with it, okay, Cas?" Castiel nodded, allowing Dean to continue. "Now I feel like you're the only one who understands, there's just something about you that...knows me."

Castiel bit his lip and looked out the window. "I...You are my best friend, too."

"Good. Glad to hear that." Dean looked over at the angel. "Want to come?"

"Where?"

"To a bar. Stripper club. You know, booze? Women?"

Castiel suddenly felt uncomfortable. He avoided Dean's gaze and found more interest in studying his shoes.

Dean picked up on this. "You have been with women before. Right? Or an angel, at least?"

Castiel rubbed the back of his neck nervously, a sign that Dean interpreted as no. He stared at him incredulously. "You mean to tell me you've never been up there doing a little cloud-seeding?"

"Look, I've never had occasion, okay?"

Dean thought for second, then started the engine, startling Castiel. "All right. Let me tell you something I know for certain. One, Bert and Ernie are gay. Two, you are not gonna die a virgin. Not on my watch. Let's go."

"But-"

"Come on! I'm not going back home without letting my best friend have a little fun!" Dean turned the radio on, revving it up to full volume, blasting Back to Black. Castiel, although unfazed by the volume, seemed apprehensive of going to a stripper club. And really, who could blame him?

Dean noticed his anxiety and rested a hand on Castiel's shoulder. "Hey, trust me. It'll be fine."