How to act human for Dummies (and angels)

8 The place where I belong

Dean sighed deeply and swayed his glass of Bourbon, entranced by the golden hue and play of colors of the reflections on top of the wooden bar.

When he had entered the bar, familiar sights and smells had greeted him, making him feel at home. On the right there stood the bartender, cleaning a glass with a towel. Behind him towered a massive shelf, full of various kinds of golden, bronze, and brown shades of liquid treasures. The men in the back were busy shouting and hooting at the two guys competing in pool. Classic rock played through the speakers in the corners of the room.

"This place free?" A male voice asked, pulling Dean out of his brooding for a moment. He heard the screeching of the stool on the left as a man flopped down next to him with a content sigh.

"Yeah, it is."

"Thanks. Yo, Connor, get me a Beam's, and another one for my friend here!" The man shouted at the bartender.

Dean finally looked at the guy, who had apparently decided to be his "new friend". It was a middle aged man. With his tousled blond hair and slightly crumpled shirt he looked like he had had a bad day as well. "Thanks man, I appreciate it."

"Nah, no problem really. It's a pleasure. By the way, my name's Thomas, nice to meet you." He reached out his right, and Dean grabbed it.

"I'm Bill."

"So, Billy, what brought you here? By the look of it you've been here a while tonight. Must've been a shitty day, my friend. Well at least mine was bad, I gotta tell you that. Well, more like shitty week. Oh, sorry, I am babbling, you probably don't even wanna listen to me."

"Nono, it's ok. Go on," Dean nodded. The man's monologue might be a good distraction from thinking about Castiel too much.

It worked just fine. Listening to this guy ranting made his own problems fade for a moment. Women, money bills, it was pretty stereotypical. But he didn't care. Time flew by swiftly, and each passing hour made Dean relax more and more with his new buddy.

"Oh shit, gotta pee," Dean slurred. As he stood up a sudden wave of dizziness hit him. "Woah! What the -" He grabbed the bar to steady himself.

Thomas stood up, and grabbed his jacket, rummaging around in one of the pockets. "Take it easy there, man. You drank a lot. I gotta go home, you should go, too. Here, lemme pay for tonight." He smacked the bills and a black wallet on the bar. His hand lingered on it for a bit. The man looked deeply into the hunter's eyes. For a second Dean could see a twitch in the mouth of the man, a deep sadness and hate convulsing his face, before he put his mask back on.

"I think this one is yours, right?" he said. As Dean stared in horror at his own wallet, the father of the girl he had killed turned around and left.

"Oh shit!" Dean felt his heartbeat racing. He grabbed his wallet, and stood up to rush out of the door. Yet, just as he began to turn, the dizziness hit him again. The floor suddenly swayed hard, making Dean tumble against the next table. He hit its edge, crashing down on the floor.

"He poisoned me, fuck!"

-----

Castiel was back at his place on top of the church. "The place where I belong. I am an angel of the lord. I am doomed to look at god's creation, and forbidden to love them more than family." He looked up at the sky, tears streaming down his face. "I am a freak, loving someone who I am not supposed to love. I forgot the rules. I forgot my place."

"Cas!"

"And yet i miss Dean, miss him so much. I am even imagining him screaming at me right now." He scoffed through his tears. "I must have gone mad."

"Cas, I know I am an idiot. I am sorry."

"Oh yes you are," Castiel thought as he wiped away his tears.

"Please forgive me, I love you. I wish I had the guts to tell you before. But...hmmm...poison is one hell of a guts-giver," Dean giggled, then went silent.

"Wait what?" Castiel squinted his eyes. "For a hallucination this felt really real. Dean!"

He spread his wings, his heart galloping in his breast. Something felt very wrong. He flew as fast as he could, the cold wind of the night an icy blast against his face. His instincts led him to an alleyway, where he landed silently.

"Dean! Dean where are you!?", he bellowed into the pitch-black darkness. He heard a faint cough a few feet in front of him. He rushed over, and knelt down, grabbing Dean tightly by the shoulder. The hunter looked at him with glazed eyes and smirked. "Hey there pretty angel," he slurred. "Come 'ere and kiss me!" Then he coughed again, and closed his eyes. His head fell forwards. If Castiel didn't catch him, he would've hit the the cobblestones.

Castiel placed a hand on top of the hunter's forehead. Dean was ice-cold, his life force flickering, about to fade. Castiel sweared and used his angel powers to get rid of the black energy, the poison, inside of Dean. Then he waited anxiously for him to wake.