RockStarPeach

Title:  All I’ve Got to Give 
Pairings:  Dean/Cas primarily.  Others include SPOILERS, though I know some people like to be warned. Cas/Sam, Dean/Gabriel, Cas/OCs. References to Dean/OCs, Sam/OCs, Sam/Jess. 
Summary:  AU story, in which Castiel is a wealthy CEO suffering from a bad case of unrequited love, Gabriel is his dickhead brother, Sam is a happy and (mostly) well adjusted 18yo, and Dean is a high school drop-out working at a garage by day and a bar by night to support himself and his little brother.
 
*** 

The following morning Dean wasn’t feeling quite so serene.   

He woke up to a severe pounding in his head, probably from the many, many bottles of beer he’d consumed, or the argument he’d had with Ash that had almost come to blows over whether the book or the movie version of The Time Machine was better.  Sam piped in at some point insisting that the remake of the movie was actually best, and they’d both, naturally, ignored him. 

He was pretty sure he won, though, so it was cool. 

He let out a slightly pathetic groan, and rolled over, his arm colliding with a solid body to his right, and he froze, terrified.  He was pretty much a hundred percent sure that Cas hadn’t come over in the middle of the night. 

The body he collided with let out an ‘oomph’ and then sat up, while Dean watched helplessly, mortified. 

Ash. 

Fucking Ash was in his bed, next to him, and…. Dean looked down, took in his own naked form and almost squinted as he turned to peak at Ash, buck-assed fucking naked.  Fuck. 

He sat up sharply, and shoved all the available covers Ash’s way, thankful that his ass wasn’t sore, because he didn’t think he could have dealt with that. 

“Dude…” Dean said.  “Fuck.  Get dressed.” 

“Huh?  What?” 

“Fuck, Ash, buddy,” Dean said, and scrambled for his underwear.  “Please tell me we didn’t…”  Because he honestly couldn’t remember anything after Sam slid Earth Girls Are Easy into the player, and Dean downed his eleventh beer. 

“Pfft,” Ash said, standing up, stretching and letting his morning wood stand tall and proud.  “You wish.” 

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to block the image from his memory. 
“Dude, I don’t need to see that shit.” 

“That’s not what you said last night,” came Jo’s voice, smiling and bright, from the hallway. 
“God no,” Dean said, practically begged.  “Please, God, tell me I didn’t.” 

Jo tilted her head back and laughed, bright and beautiful, and Dean just about fell in love with her.   
“Relax,” she said.  “You went to bed alone, sweetie.  Got all maudlin, bitching about your cheating asshole of a boyfriend, and then told us you were going to jerk off.” 

“Oh, Christ, I think that’s even worse,” Dean said, covering his face with his hand. 

Ash smiled, when he peeked out, and Jo laughed as Ash got dressed. 

“How the fuck did he get here?” he asked, looking at Ash. 

“I told him to fuck off, cause there wasn’t enough room on the couch for two, and he wandered in here.’ 

“Yeah,” Ash chimed in, fastening up his pants.  “You were already sleepin’, so I hopped in with ya.” 
“And you stopped to take your clothes off?” 

“Well, you were naked,” Ash shrugged.  “Figured it was a thing.” 

“Fuck me,” Dean sighed.  “Whatever.  Uh… Sam…” 

“Left for school a while ago,” Jo told him. 

“Did he uh… say anything?  About, you know, what I said about Cas?” 

“Sam didn’t hear you.  He went to bed just after midnight.  Something about an early class.” 

Dean breathed a low sigh of relief. 

“Why?” Jo asked.  “Dean, what’s going on with you guys?” 

“Nothing,” Dean said.  “I was just… We had an argument last week, and we haven’t talked since then.  I guess it’s just kind of getting to me.” 

Jo gave him a look like she didn’t quite believe him, but shrugged, and offered him a slight grin.  “If you say so.”  Then, “Let’s go, Ash,” staring at him as he finished getting dressed, giving Dean his privacy.  God, he loved Jo.  “Mom’s gonna be pissed if we’re late for work.” 

Ash gave a vague grunt, and Jo just stood there as he left the room, watched while Dean found his own clothes, and put them on.   

“Seriously, Dean,” she said.  “I know you might not want to talk to me about shit like this, but I’m your friend.  And I’m here if you need me.” 

“Thanks, Jo,” he said, with an embarrassed smile.  “Seriously.” 

She jerked her head downward once more, and Dean’s eyes softened as she left.  Turned and followed Ash out, yelling at him that he better be sober enough to drive, and Dean wandered into the kitchen to pour himself some coffee. 

*** 

That afternoon, Dean called Cas while he was buried in the engine of an ’83 Cutlass. 

“Mind if I come over tonight?” he asked, as soon as Cas answered, not bothering with ‘hello’. 

“Of course not,” was Cas’ immediate answer.  “I tried to reach you last night, in fact.  I was expecting you.” 

“Yeah,” Dean said, fiddled with the intake manifold, and coughed.  He didn’t want to tell him that he had purposely been ignoring him.  Or why.  “I’ll see you later, okay?” 

“Sure,” Cas answered, and he sounded slightly off.  “Will you be here for supper?” 

“I don’t think so,” Dean said.  “Might put in a couple extra hours today, so I’ll just eat here.”  It was a lie.  He’d be out of there by four, but he’d probably swing by Jesse’s and grab some supper with Andy. 

“Alright,” Cas said, and though he tried, he couldn’t hide his disappointment.  Good, the cheating bastard.  “I’ll be waiting.” 

*** 

He didn’t show up until after midnight. 

And by that time he was nice and drunk, and he’d made out with a college girl by the pool table, and gotten head from a fifty-something businessman in the bathroom. 

“Dean,” Cas greeted him, nodded, and held his arm, as they made their way to the bedroom, Cas keeping him steady along the way.  “You appear to have had quite the night.” 

Dean suddenly felt a whole lot drunker than he had on the cab ride over. 

“I got my dick sucked,” he confessed, and wanted to punch himself in the fucking mouth.  It was none of Cas’ Goddamn business where his dick had been.  Cas cringed, his movement stilted, and Dean inwardly celebrated, as Cas lowered him down onto his bed, helped him out of his flannel shirt, and heavy jeans. 

He disappeared into the bathroom for a few seconds, and Dean missed him. 

“I’m glad you had fun,” Cas told him, and Dean couldn’t quite read his tone of voice, as a glass of water and two Tylenol were placed in his hands. 

“He had a mouth like a fucking Hoover,” Dean said, winced, and popped the pills in his mouth, washing them down with the water.  Maybe that would shut him up, if he was lucky.  “Pretty blue eyes, all blinking up at me.  Moaned so good, like he couldn’t get enough.  And he fucking swallowed.” Well, no luck on the shutting up front, then. 

The glass of water was taken from his hand and placed on the table next to his side of the bed.  The fact that he had a side of the bed slammed into him like a fucking Mack truck.  He sort of wished for one right then, to run Cas over. 

A few seconds later the other side of the mattress dipped, and then Castiel’s arm was resting gently over his waist, fingers tickling his side lightly over his worn t-shirt. 

“Go to sleep, Dean,” Cas’ soft voice sounded in his ear, and a light kiss was placed on the corner of his mouth.  Dean almost cried. 

“It was awesome,” Dean said, his words slurred together now from exhaustion as much as inebriation.  “He looked like you.  Older.  But…” 

“Dean.”  Cas palmed the side of his face, and kissed him full on the mouth.  “Sleep.” 

Dean let his eyes flutter shut, because it was better than the alternative.  If they were open when he spoke his next words, there was a good chance he’d cry, and despite what Sam called his ‘epic homo relationship’ he wasn’t ready to be quite that gay. 

“You fucked my brother.” 

Cas’ fingers stilled on his cheek, froze halfway through a gentle stroke, the knuckles of two fingers pressed feather-light against the underside of his cheekbone.   

“I didn’t mean to,” Cas answered, and then Dean felt the puff of air along his jaw when Cas mentally slapped himself upside the head for his stupid reply.  “I’m sorry.” 

“That’s it?” Dean asked, and still didn’t open his eyes.  He didn’t think he could.  “You’re sorry?  Shit, Cas, why the fuck are you doing this to me?  To Sam, for fuck’s sake?  You used him.  Asshole.” 

“I’m not…” Cas started, and then his hand began to move again, over Dean’s jaw and along his neck, cupping it tightly and tilting Dean’s head up.  “I’m sorry I hurt you, Dean.”  He kissed Dean’s lax mouth, let his tongue run the space between his lips.  “And I’m sorry for what I did to your brother.  You’re right.  He meant nothing to me, and the way I treated him was unfair.  I know you’ll probably leave me over this, and I honestly can’t blame you.” 

“Cas… why?  You had to know…” 

He felt Cas nod, the movement of his head against Dean’s giving it away, and Cas pressed his lips to Dean’s temple briefly.  “I did,” he said, and kissed his hair.  “I do.”
 
“But… Sam?”  Dean wasn’t even sure if he was making sense, but fuck, Cas seemed to be able to follow, so he wasn’t going to worry about it too much. 

“He reminded me of you.  He made me hate you.” 

“Dude,” Dean said, finally opening his eyes again, and turning onto his side.  “He’s my fucking brother!  I can’t fucking… You tell me, you say you want this.  Tell me you want me.  That you…”  Yup, no sense at all, he was pretty sure.  Also, he was pretty sure he sounded like a woman.  And not only that, but he sounded like a hormonally unbalanced one. 

“That I what, Dean?” 

“Do you love me, Cas?” 

“Of course I do.” 

“Then what the fuck, man?” 

“I have no excuse,” Cas said, and his hand shifted, slipped under his shirt, and rubbed over his bare stomach.  “What I did was unconscionable.  More so because I did it out of spite.  It was a mistake, and I can’t apologise enough.” 

“You seem to make a lot of mistakes, Cas.” 

“Then give me a reason not to.  Give me a reason to hope, at least, that this can be more.” 

“And if I don’t?” Dean choked out.  “You’re just going to keep whoring around?  Fuck, that’s awesome, Cas.  And you wonder why I’m not willing to take that risk.” 

“I made a mistake,” Cas said again, sounding solemn, and his hand rested flat and still on Dean’s belly.  “Made several, as far as you’re concerned.  I promise you, Dean, it will never happen again.  Not with Sam, or anybody else.  Not now that I’ve seen how much it hurts you.” 

Dean laughed, a broken, humourless sound.  “Wasn’t hurting me the point, Cas?” 

Cas closed his eyes, and ducked his head.  “Yes,” he admitted.  “It was.  But it was wrong of me.  I don’t want to see you hurting, Dean, and I most certainly don’t want to be the cause of your pain.  I sincerely hope that you can forgive me, though I’ll more than understand if you can’t.  If it will help, I’ll happily get down on my knees and beg you to stay with me.” 

Dean let out a soft snort, suddenly finding the situation almost humorous.  “I don’t think you’ve ever begged for anything in your life, Cas.  It wouldn’t suit you.” 

“There’s never been anything I’ve ever wanted this much,” Cas told him quietly, and Dean tensed briefly when Cas settled back into the bed and threaded his fingers through Dean’s, leaving them joined over Dean’s chest, rising and falling with his slow breaths.   

“Sleep,” he said, and Dean’s eyes drifted shut, unable to resist.  “We’ll talk in the morning.” 

“Yeah,” Dean mumbled sleepily.  And then, “Hey, Cas?” 

“Yes, Dean?” 

Dean pulled his free hand back and blinked up at Cas, formed a fist and slammed it forward, straight into Cas’ jaw. 

Cas didn’t cry out, but he did make a muffled sound of what might be pain and rubbed his jaw sympathetically. 

“You fuck with my brother again,” Dean warned, eyes suddenly very alert, and boring into Cas’, “I will end you.  I ain’t kiddin’.  He’s off limits.  The little freak’s too good for you and your bullshit.” 
“You both are,” Castiel agreed, and his hand only pressed down comfortingly on Dean’s chest. 
“Sleep.” 

And Dean did. 

*** 

They didn’t talk about it in the morning. 

Cas had already left for work by the time Dean rolled out of bed, hung over even worse than the day before.  There was another glass of water, and a bottle of Tylenol by the bed, and he eagerly swallowed down two more of the little white pills, and managed to get down a cup of coffee and a bowl of Captain Crunch without throwing up. 

He counted that as a win. 

*** 

For the next three days, Dean managed to successfully avoid both Sam and Cas, making sure he was working extra late, or sleeping at the right times.  ‘Forgetting’  to charge his cell phone so nobody could reach him, and being conveniently busy when either of them called for him at Bobby’s, or Jesse’s. 

He knew he was being as ass.  At least to Sam.  None of this was his brother’s fault.  Sam hadn’t known that it was Cas, when he’d slept with him, and if he’d even suspected for a nanosecond, he wouldn’t have gone near him.  Dean knew that, and he knew he was hurting Sam with this distance he was putting between them, but he couldn’t even look at his brother these days without picturing Cas behind him, over him, under him, head thrown back and face twisted in ecstasy, his voice sex-deep and hoarse, ordering Sam not to come yet, as Sam shook with the effort to obey. 

It was sick, it was fucked up, and the really frightening thing was, it was kind of got him hard. 
So yeah, ignoring Sam was probably for the best, at least for the time being. 

He broke down after three days though, and called Cas.  Went to see him and tried to sort his head out.  Everything was so fucking messed up, the reasons he was attracted to Cas in the first place, the reasons he was still with him, the reasons he was so fucking bothered when Cas was with other people, and nothing made sense to him anymore. 

Nothing, until Cas answered the door and Dean kissed him, hard and desperate and wanted to tell him what he wanted to hear.  Wanted to tell Cas to stop fucking around, wanted to punch him in the mouth again for what he did to Sam, wanted to beg him again to stop fucking with him, tell him ‘you win’. 
Wanted to be with him, for real.  Know he was always there, tell him things he’d never told anyone, like ‘I think Pink Floyd is overrated’, and ‘I’m terrified of airplanes’, and maybe, one day, ‘I love you’. 
Instead, he fucked Cas, brutal and quick, almost desperate.  First right there in hallway, on the sleek wooden floor, then again in the shower, when they were cleaning off. 

Afterwards, when they were in the bedroom, and Cas kissed him, lips a soft, persistent press against his own, Cas’ legs falling apart as he pulled Dean between them, over top of him, wrapped his feet around Dean’s calves and slowed things down, hands all over his back, and breathing hot and sweet into his mouth, Dean’s chest felt tight, and he had to bite back a sob. 

Yes, he wanted this.  Wanted Cas.  And cold quick fucks were one thing, but this…  He didn’t know if he could handle this gentleness, this much meaning.  Not when he took Cas’ newly hardened dick in his hand, and an image of Sam flashed through his mind. 

“Cas,” he croaked, pulling his mouth away from Cas’ for the first time in a good ten minutes.  “I don’t think…”  He shook his head, gulped in a breath, and braced himself to push up, and away. Cas’ arms shot up like lightening, gripped his biceps, surprisingly hard, fingernails just barely digging in to the soft skin, and held him there easily.   
Dean knew, had already known, that Cas didn’t need his money or charm to keep Dean in his bed.  He could easily force him, if he wanted to.  Cas was fucking stronger than he looked, stronger than anyone else Dean had ever been with, and the fact that he kept that strength in check, used it at just the right moments and in just the right ways, and Dean was never, not for one second, worried about Cas abusing that power, was amazing. 

“Then don’t,” Cas said, and his head tilted to capture Dean’s lips in another kiss.  “Don’t think.  Just give me this, Dean.  For right now, just let me love you.” 

And so Dean did. 

He ignored the distinct feeling of his heart tearing, and leaned over, grabbed a condom and slipped it on.  Watched as Cas spread lube over it, over his cock, and let him kiss his neck, his chest, roll his nipples between his fingers and, and lift his legs up, wrap them around Dean’s waist. 

He let Cas reach down between them and guide Dean inside him, let him set the pace, torturously slow, and licked the sweat from Cas’ neck.  Let himself get lost in the feelings, the sensations, the softness, and finally come, for the third and final time that day, at Cas’ command, sharp and almost painful, his nearly empty balls drawing up tight against his body. 

Dean grunted, panted and rolled to the side, took several deep breaths, and stiffened when Cas touched him, light trail of knuckles down his chest. 

“You can go,” Cas told him, quietly, and Dean tried not to be offended that he was being kicked out while Cas’ come was still drying on his stomach. 

“Gee, thanks.” 

“No, I mean…” Cas sighed and turned his head towards Dean, bit his lip in what Dean had come to recognise as just about his only nervous habit.  “You can go.  For good.  If you really don’t want me, Dean, I’m… I’m not going to force you.” 

“Yeah, well,” Dean huffed.  “I appreciate your being so gallant, Cas, but we both know I can’t go anywhere.  You own me.  At least for now.” 

“Not anymore.” 

A cold chill ran through Dean at that, and he sat up straight, looking down at Cas like he couldn’t decide whether he should kill him, or beg him to reconsider.  “Cas, no.  You can’t…  Please.  Sam needs that money.” 

“And he’ll have it,” Cas said, holding up a hand to calm Dean down.  “Despite your opinions of me, I’m not that much of an asshole.  It’s important to you.  I want you to keep it, regardless of what happens between the two of us.” 

“Really?” Dean asked, narrowing his eyes. 

“Of course, Dean.” 

“And you’ll really just let me go?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why?”   

Castiel smiled sadly.  “I love you.” 

Something flipped inside Dean’s stomach and he closed his eyes, fell back down on the bed, and tugged the blanket up around his middle.  “Let me think about it, okay?” 

*** 

Dean saw Castiel twice more, before anything was even said about Castiel’s most recent offer, before Castiel confronted Dean, and if possible, made things worse. 

The first time was early in the morning, after Dean’s shift at Jesse’s had finished.  Castiel was bleary-eyed and half asleep, stumbled down the hall after Chuck called and woke him up, met Dean as he came inside.  He kissed him there, three times before Dean kissed back, and when Castiel pulled away, he took Dean’s hand and led him into the kitchen. 

He cooked them breakfast silently.  Omelettes with peppers, mushrooms, and even though Dean made a face when he pulled it out of the fridge, spinach.  Dean ate it though, and when they were finished, they fucked right there in the kitchen. 

Didn’t bother with lubrication, or protection, with Castiel facing the counter next to the sink, hands braced on the edge to support himself while Dean rocked into him from behind, slow, and teasing them both to the brink several times before they finally fell over the edge. 

Dean pulled free without a word, and by the time Castiel was finished with his shower, Dean was gone. 

*** 

Two days later, on a Monday, Dean came over again.  He sent Castiel a text message first, so he had supper ready when Dean showed up.  Lobster macaroni and cheese, from the place that did all his meals, and afterward Dean cracked open two beers, and they carried them out to the balcony, and drank them in silence. 

After another three beers each, Dean stripped out of his pants and rode Castiel’s cock, both of them balanced precariously on one of the wrought iron balcony chairs.  Castiel went against his usual instincts and let Dean control everything, from the pace to the force to the stuttering, stilted kisses.  He didn’t complain when Dean came first, when Dean sped up his movements and brought Castiel through his own orgasm afterward, forcing it out of him when he hadn’t been ready. 

They didn’t use protection that time either, and when Dean climbed off, they were both messy, sticky and slick, and after they finished their shared shower, Dean went home. 

*** 

Five days later he hadn’t heard from Dean at all, and he was very close to taking that as his answer, to leaving Dean alone, getting on with his life, and letting Dean get on with his. 

Dean was miserable.  That much was obvious in his mood and his actions, his lack of
conversation and the desperation that underlay their sex during their last two meetings.  If Dean would be happier without him, Castiel would let him go. 

Tomorrow. 

Today, he needed to apologise one more time.  To Dean, and to Sam.  He’d been unfair to them both, even though Sam hadn’t realised it at the time. 

When he knocked on the door, one hand stuffed in the pocket of his trench coat, eyes taking in the worn brown paint on the door, he didn’t have to wait long before it was opened. 

“Hello, Sam,” he said, with a slight nod, and Sam’s natural smile, the one he used to greet people at the door, or at a bar, or probably any number of other places, fell. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked. 

“So you remember me?” 

Sam snorted.  “Kinda hard to forget, man.  And hey, how’d you know my name?  Or… where I live?” 
Castiel offered him his best attempt at a comforting smile, but knew it fell flat.  He’d never been very good at that.  “It’s alright, Sam,” he told him.  “I’m not a stalker.” 

“Not yours, anyway,” Dean’s voice sounded from inside, and he came to stand next to Sam, pushing the door open further.  “Come on in,” he said to Castiel, and tilted the half full bottle of beer in his left hand up to his mouth.  He finished it in one long gulp, and then stepped back, motioning to the inside of the house with his hand. 

“Uh… Dean?” Sam asked, giving Dean a confused look, but he stepped back as well and allowed Castiel entrance.  “You know this guy?” 

Dean sighed and bent over in front of the television, turned off what appeared to be the video game system that Castiel had bought for them, and put his empty bottle down on the table. 

“Sam, Cas,” he said, looking back at them, and sounding like he thought this confrontation was inevitable, and he was just glad to have it over.  Castiel wanted to go to him, touch him, kiss him, anything to put a smile on his face, but he stayed rooted the spot, just inside the door.  “Cas, Sam.” 
Sam nearly choked on his tongue, coughing harshly and punching himself in the chest to get his breath back. 

Dean let the tiniest chuckle bubble to the surface, because despite the epic awkwardness of the situation, it was a little funny.  “I know you guys know each other, but I don’t think you’ve ever officially met.” 

“I uh…” Sam stammered, shaking his head slightly.  “Hi.”  And then he turned around, and looked at his brother.  “Dean, I don’t…” 

“Chill, Sammy,” Dean said and went into the kitchen.  Came out with another beer and one for Castiel, which he took automatically.  “I already know.” 

Castiel looked around for somewhere to put his beer, because he had no intentions of drinking it, but there weren’t any tables nearby, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to come far enough into the house to find a suitable location. 

Sam’s eyes widened in surprise, and he blinked, looked from Dean to Castiel and back again.  “Are you…  So this was why?” he asked, and Castiel could hear the slight tremor in his voice, saw Dean wince.  “This is why you’ve been avoiding me?  Why you’ve been mad at me?  Fuck, Dean, why didn’t you say something?” 

Castiel looked away, the look of pitiful understanding on Sam’s face more personal than he was comfortable witnessing.  He understood though, how terrible Sam would feel about this. 

“Because it doesn’t matter,” Dean bit out.  “Jesus fucking Christ, Cas!  Are you coming in or not?” he snapped, and turned around, made his way to the couch and sat down, put his feet up on the coffee table and tried to look like he wasn’t falling apart. 

He wasn’t fooling anyone.   

Castiel nodded and stepped further into the room, sat down precariously on the chair closest to the door, and watched Sam’s mouth work slightly in silence, until sound finally came out. 

“It doesn’t matter?  Dean…”  He sighed, and sat down next to Dean on the couch, careful not to touch him.  “This is your first serious relationship.  Ever.  And…  Fuck, Dean I’m so sorry.” 

“Not your fault, Sammy,” Dean shrugged.  “You didn’t know.  Besides, it ain’t like you’re the only one.” 

Sam’s eyes grew wider at that, and the look on his face was one of pure horror.  Clearly, Dean hadn’t been telling Sam everything.  “What?!” he shrieked, and then looked back to Castiel, like he was caught between hitting him and demanding he explain. 

“Dean, you…” he sputtered.  “I know you’re new to this whole relationship thing, but come on, man.  This is you, here.  For you, loyalty is like, the most important thing in the world.  And now you’re settling down with some guy who makes cheating a habit?  And you’re just putting up with it?  What the fuck, Dean?” 

Dean rubbed his hand over his face, and angled his head towards the floor between his legs.  “Sammy… it’s not…” 

“Not what?  Come on, Dean.  What’s going on?” 

“Not something he wants to let bother him,” Castiel interrupted.  “But I know that it does.  Which is why I came to apologise.  To both of you.” 

“Cas…” 

“I apologise Dean,” he said.  “And to you as well, Sam.  I used you, because I knew who you were, and I thought I could… I’m not sure.  Get back at Dean, maybe.  For making me love him.  Maybe make him realise how he feels.  In any case, I was wrong.  And I’m sorry.” 

“You… Dean, seriously.  What’s going on here?” 

“We’re not exactly exclusive, okay Sam?  We see other people.  Or… he does.” 

“Then why the hell would…” Sam started, and then his face settled in the horrified lines of understanding.  He knew.  And Castiel could see his outrage rise.  “No,” he said, and shook his head, like if he denied it hard enough, it wouldn’t be true.  “Dean, no.  You said… Fuck!  How could you…” 
“Sam,” Dean sighed, cringed and looked away, like he was embarrassed.  Like his relationship with Castiel was something to be ashamed of.  Castiel supposed, for him, it was, and the thought made him feel ill. 

“Dean, we didn’t need the money this badly.  If I’d known, I never would have let you do this.” 
“Yeah!  And that’s why I didn’t tell you!” 

“Dean, I can’t… I can’t fucking believe…” 

“Hey, Cas?” Dean said, looking in his direction for the first time.  “Could you maybe give us a few minutes?” 

“Of course,” he said, standing.  “I’ll go.  I didn’t mean to make things worse, Dean.” 

“No.  No, don’t go.  I just… this is kind of a private conversation, you know?  Maybe go wait in my room?” 

***

Chapter 14