Dean frowned at the nearly empty box of cereal. He poured the remains into a bowl, setting it on the counter to throw away later. He raised his eyebrows at the tiny breakfast. There was probably less than half a cup in there, which wasn't nearly enough for him. He cursed his past self for leaving so little and reached for the handle on the refrigerator. The sound of it opening had been the loudest thing he heard all morning. He grabbed the milk carton and paused.

He furrowed his eyebrows, casually glancing up to sweep his gaze across the rest of the downstairs area. When he woke up, he had been determined to completely ignore the angel. To not even look at him. That was the plan, anyway. But he couldn't really ignore him if he wasn't even there.

A spark of hope lit up in his chest. Dean quietly shut the refrigerator door and set the milk on the counter, inspecting what he could see of the living room. Slowly, he walked out of the kitchen. His eyes flicked to the sliding glass door that lead out into his minuscule backyard. There wasn't anything out there that hadn't been there the last time he looked outside. Carefully, he crossed beyond the entryway and into the room.

The hope that had caught aflame died out when he spotted the couch. Dark hair peeked out from under the blankets. Castiel had situated himself on the cushions, laying on his back with his head propped against the pillows and the blanket pulled all the way up to his forehead.

Dean was gaping at the lump on his couch. He really hadn't expected the angel to have actually decided to use his makeshift bed. It took him several seconds to even find out where his voice went, and another few seconds to actually say anything.

"What... The hell?"

Castiel didn't respond at first. The blankets dipped and curved with every move of his shoulders, the shifting being the only noise for a moment.

"You went through the trouble of making a suitable place for me to sleep," the covers told him. "I understand that it's only polite to accept the kind gesture."

Dean furrowed his eyebrows, staring at the couch. "Dude," he started, crossing his arms over his chest, "get out of there."

For Dean, it felt like hours until the covers lifted and fell onto Castiel's lap. One of his hands had splayed across the fabric, then curled inward to grip a fistful of polyester. He really did look as though he just woke up, with the messy hair and tired eyes, but Dean wasn't going to let appearances render his actions after everything that had happened the day before.

Castiel moved so that both of his feet, which were still protected by a pair of dress shoes, landed flat on the floor. "I was under the impression that this was the appropriate thing to do. I did as you asked and stayed down here the entire night," he said.

To be fair, it wasn't the worst thing that could have happened last night. It was a little weird, but Dean considered it a plus that he hadn't watched him as he slept. So he decided to let the angel off the hook for this one.

"Right, Cas. Thanks."

Dean wiped a hand down the entirety of his face, moving it to the nape of his neck. He turned away from Castiel, rubbing the knots out of his shoulder. His arm fell back to his side and he rolled his shoulders as he entered the kitchen, pausing only to glance over at Castiel in the other room. He watched, a little too closely, as the angel stood up and neatly spread the blanket back to rest on the couch. Dean furrowed his eyebrows at the sight of Castiel leaning down to awkwardly pat the fabric, almost as if it had feelings. When Castiel turned to face him, he quickly averted his gaze and poured the milk into what little cereal he had. He glared down at the bowl, and then put the milk away.

He grabbed a spoon and took his breakfast to the dining room table where Castiel had already seated himself.

Dean, like any normal person, didn't stare down the guy in front of him. He just started eating, one spoonful at a time, letting his eyes pass over anything as long as they didn't venture across the table.

But Castiel wasn't a normal person. In fact, he wasn't really a person at all. Dean could see out of his peripheral that the damn angel was watching him throughout his entire breakfast. He stiffened a little in his seat, trying to ignore that unnerving stare. Seriously, those blue eyes were like vacuums that sucked up every one of his bad life choices just to judge them.

Dean swallowed the last spoonful, moving his eyes to meet with Castiel's. He let the spoon hit against the bowl and fall into place. "Cas..." He leaned over the table to get a better look at him. "Do you always look at people like you can't comprehend them?"

Lifting up his chin, Castiel leaned into the back of his chair. "I did not know that was how I looked," he said. "I was simply examining your behavioral patterns."

"Well you should probably limit your observations, buddy. It's a little uncomfortable."

Castiel didn't respond.

Their eyes stayed connected for a moment, until Dean decided it was time to put his dishes in the sink. He got up with the bowl in his hands, still looking at Castiel, whose eyes followed his every movement. Taking a deep breath, Dean turned away and walked into the kitchen. He set the bowl down and glanced at his wristwatch.

"Damn it," he muttered.

Quickly, he moved back into the dining room and snatched his keys off the table. Castiel stood up, probably to be able to watch him even more closely like the creepy angel he was. Dean tried to ignore those ridiculous eyes, even as he turned to look at him.

"I gotta head off to work," he said, "and when I get home you're not going to be here." As if repeating it would actually turn his dream into a reality. His eyes flick back to his watch.

"You're late."

When Dean looked back up he realized that Castiel is no longer staring at his face, but has lowered his gaze to Dean's work shirt.

"What was your first clue?" he asked, glancing up at the ceiling in disbelief. He rubbed a hand over his face, sighing, before looking back to Castiel. "Can you at least try to..." his voice trailed away from him when Castiel lifted his arm. Dean had no idea how to react to an angel gripping his shoulder, but he finally settled with a, "What are you doing?"

He didn't get a response.

Instead, white flashed before Dean's eyes, so vibrant that it pierced straight through his now closed eyelids. The brightness stung, and it somehow traveled through his optic nerves to wedge itself between the lines of his brain, burrowing deep into the organ to expand it from the inside out. His head throbbed, his skull ready to crack from the inflation. Sudden scenes of brain soup spilling out of his head filled his imagery.

His stomach started flipping upside down and shaking from side to side, though whether this had happened because of the spinning white room he appeared to be in or from the unsettling thought of his head exploding he didn't know. All he knew was that none of his internal organs wanted to be there in that moment. Everything inside of him felt like it was moving around, like a giant worm was squirming around in there, gnawing through his gut and moving everything out of place.

An unexpected whip of air smacked him across the face. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, panicking when the ground below him disappears. The only thing keeping him from falling into whatever the hell was under him now was Castiel's firm hold on his shoulder.

Then, suddenly, the wind isn't hurting him anymore. He still can't feel anything under him but the lack of a glaring white light gave him enough courage to actually open his eyes. The first thing he saw was Castiel standing in front of him, watching him with a blank expression. It was the only thing that he could see clearly. Everything else around them were swirls of beige and silver that blended together to form blurred outlines of where they were. He blinked a few times, waiting for the ability to actually see to come back to him.

After he was able to recognize where they were, a spoiled smell climbed into his nostrils and died there. If he wasn't sure where they had landed before, he sure as hell knew where they were now. That smell was something that he couldn't scrub out no matter how much time and effort he'd put into it.

Then, finally, there was solid ground under him again.

Dean was beyond dizzy. He couldn't seem to remember how to stand properly and ended up stumbling backwards into the side of a urinal. One of his arms reached up to catch himself with the wall.

The room hadn't stopped spinning by that point. Everything was swaying like he was on a boat in the middle of a really bad storm. Black and white dots blurred the corners of his vision. He closed his eyes again, taking several deep breaths to calm himself down a little bit. When he opened them, everything was back to normal.

They were in Biggerson's diner, inside of the single male restroom.

Pushing away from the wall, Dean attempted to steady himself. It took a couple of tries for him to stop wobbling on his own two feet.

He pointed an accusatory finger at Castiel, taking in another deep breath and exhaling his next sentence. "Don't ever do that again."

The angel frowned. "I thought I was being helpful."

Dean moved his hand to rest on his stomach. His head still pounded, less violently than before, and stomach still churned. "I feel like I'm going to throw up," he said after a moment.

"I apologize," Castiel said. "I forgot that it can be a little destabilizing for humans."

"A little?"

Castiel's frown deepened. He opened his mouth to respond when the door to the bathroom flung open. Both men turned to the entrance. A young man sporting a Biggerson's T-shirt had been about to walk into the room, only to pause mid-step. Slowly, the man took his leg back to stand poised on both feet.

"Uh..." the man licked his lips, eyes darting between the two. "Sorry. I, I didn't know you two were in here."

"Dude, no. It's not what you think," Dean told him. "This is my roommate," he paused, glancing at Castiel. "Steve."

"Oh..." The worker said, hand tightening around the doorknob. "Oh. Roommates, yeah. Right." He cleared his throat. "I'll leave you and your roommate to it then." He started to close the door.

"No, man, it's not like that!" Dean hurried over to the door, catching it before it shut all the way. He opened it further to look at his coworker. "He was just telling me how it was out of toilet paper, that's all." He peered over his shoulder at Castiel. "Right, Steve?"

Castiel squinted at Dean, taking in his desperate facial expression. Then he looked back to the other man, tilting his head in the process. Dean clenched his jaw, something that the angel must have seen from his peripheral, because he slowly nodded.

"Yes. There was a lack of toiletries in this restroom."

Dean relaxed, turning back to his coworker. "Yeah, and I just restocked it so you're free to go in." Quickly he shouldered his way through the door, walking out into the rest of the diner. Luckily no one had been watching. He turned around to talk to Castiel, only to realize that he hadn't moved. "Steve!"

For a moment longer, all Castiel did was stare at Dean's coworker. Then, very slowly, he walked out to stand by Dean. The guy awkwardly walked inside after the angel had left the room, quickly shutting and locking the door behind him.

"Jeez, Cas. You in love with the guy or do you just stare that intently at everyone?" Dean asked, turning to him. The only response that he got, though, was Castiel's squinting eyes. He licked his lips, then nodded his head, looking away from him. "Right."

"My name isn't Steve," Castiel stated. "Why would you lie to that man?"

Dean looked back at him. "Because down here, Castiel isn't a common name. At all. It's not even an actual name. Now come on, let's sit you down and make you a burger or something."

Dean turned his back to Castiel, stepping further into the diner. He stopped behind the counter, motioning for the angel to sit at one of the empty stools across from him. Castiel sat down very gingerly on the seat directly in front of Dean.

"You know I don't eat."

"Just try it out. Who knows, you might even like it. Besides, it's on the house."

Castiel frowned at him as a woman walked up to them. She stopped next to the angel, leaning over the counter. Castiel furrowed his eyebrows, squinting at her curly hair.

"Dean, table four," she said. She pushed herself away from the counter and walked behind it into the kitchen.

"I'll have Kiki make you that burger so you don't have to wait too long." Dean winked, ignoring the still unconvinced look on Castiel's face. He grabbed an apron from under the counter and tied it around his waist, then reached for a pen and notepad. "One cheeseburger!" he shouted to a lady in the kitchen.

Castiel watched him from his stool as he turned back around. He watched him walk over to a table by the door where two women sat. When Dean glanced back over to Castiel, though, he had already turned back to stare at the counter surface. Dean went back to work, going from the kitchen to tables, back to the kitchen.

"One cheeseburger!" Kiki called out, tapping a service bell on the opening wall.

Dean brought the burger to Castiel, sliding it across the counter to him. He waited there, watching as Castiel stared at it. Then, as if deciding that he could trust the food, he picked it up and took a tentative bite. He chewed slowly.

"So, how is it?"

Castiel lowered his arms, setting the burger back down on the plate. He took a moment to himself, swallowing the substance down. "It tastes like molecules."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "You're telling me you didn't get any flavor in that?"

"No." Castiel picked it up again, less reluctant to take another bite this time. Dean rolled his eyes.

⛥⛥⛥⛥⛥

Untying his apron, Dean looked up at all the customers. There were still so many people going in and out, which wasn't something he was complaining about by any means. That's not to say he wasn't glad his shift was finally over, though. He threw the apron under the counter, then stretched his back out. His eyes spotted Castiel, who had changed his seating arrangement from the bar stools to a booth. The angel was staring out the window, watching people walk by with an oddly tranquil expression. Dean smiled, walking over to him.

"Time to go," he said.

Castiel's eyes lingered on the people outside. It wasn't until after they'd disappeared around the corner that the angel finally looked up at Dean. He stood up and reached out to place his hand on Dean's shoulder.

Quickly, Dean dodged away from the movement. "Dude, no."

Castiel stared at him, his face scrunched in confusion.

"You're never doing that again, you hear me? We're walking back tonight." Then, without too much thought, he reached up and took Castiel by the elbow to guide him outside. It still felt weird, being so close to an angel of all things, so he let go as soon as they pushed through the doors. The sun peered through silhouetted trees, skimming the tops of their heads in the cool evening.

"We'd get back a great deal faster if you'd just let me do this," Castiel said.

"Okay, for one," Dean lifted his index finger, "the next time you use your stupid angel mojo on me, I'm probably going to die."

"Dean, you should know that I would never do anything to harm you."

Dean rolled his eyes, stuffing both hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Right."

"You still don't trust me."

"No, I don't." Dean looked away from him. "And think about what would happen if people saw us poof outta here."

"I can wipe away their memories."

"What about security cameras, huh?"

"I can cut those."

Dean shook his head. "Look, either way, I don't want to relive that."

"If you say so, Dean."

"Thank you." The two of them walk in silence for a block, Dean being a little lost in thought for a while. Then it hit him, and he turned to look over to the angel. "If you can just teleport everywhere, then why can't you get back home?"

Furrowing his eyebrows, Castiel looked back at him. "I thought that was what we were doing..." he said, squinting. Then his facial expression relaxed into that of understanding. "If you'd rather me be there to welcome you I'd be happy to fly home before you arrive."

"Oh, no. No way. You are not allowed to start thinking of my place as your home. You've been there for one night, Cas. I'm talking about Paradise City," Dean said. "What's really stopping you from just zapping back there?"

"Oh." Castiel lifted his head to stare up at the dwindling sky. "Heaven." Closing his eyes for a brief moment, the angel let out a small sigh. Then he turned his gaze back to Dean. "I'm locked out. I can't return until I've done my job. If I tried to fly back in, I'd be pushed down to Earth." He looked upward. "Not all shooting stars are meteors or space debris. There are others. Angels that have fallen from the heavens. Those who have wronged their kind, or have tried to go beyond the gates without being welcomed."

Dean stared at him, wanting to ask what happened to those angels. Did they die upon impact or while they were burning in the atmosphere? Did they get their wings clipped, too? Or lose all of their previous powers? Whatever the hell kind of powers they had to begin with – Dean still wasn't sure exactly what these angels were capable of. He opened his mouth with the intention of vocalizing all these thoughts but was interrupted by his phone going off. Which was a little weird because no one ever really called him.

Still watching Castiel, Dean took the phone out of his pocket and glanced at the collar ID. He looked back up, making eye contact with the angel.

"Sorry, Cas... Gotta take this."

The angel only nodded in return, watching Dean answer the phone.

"Sammy!" Dean greeted, looking away from those blue freaking eyes.

"Hey, Dean."

The sound of his little brother's voice struck a smile on him, and he didn't even try to mask it. Besides, Castiel wasn't even looking at him anymore.

"How's law school treatin' ya?" he asked.

"It's good. I really like it." Sam took a pause, letting a short silence overtake their conversation. "I actually just called to see how you were doing."

"Me? I'm great."

They stopped at a crosswalk and Dean pressed the button twice out of pure habit.

"Good. That's, that's good," Sam said, just as the crosswalk turned on. He paused and then hesitantly asked, "Are you outside?"

"Yeah," Dean said. "I'm on my way home from work right now."

"Did something happen to the car?"

"No way, Sam. You think I'd actually let anything happen to Baby?"

"Well..."

"Shut up, I always fix her."

"Right. Then why didn't you drive it?"

Unwillingly, almost as if it were natural, Dean looked at Castiel. By now, the darker stages of twilight had set in, and he couldn't very well see what the guy was staring at, but he thought he saw movement. Then it moved further into view, and Dean could see that it was a crow searching for food. Dean shifted his gaze away.

"You're the one always telling me I need to get more exercise," he said. "All that 'walking is good for the soul' hippie kind of crap."