The room went still. Quiet. Eerie. Castiel was the only other person there, yet Dean still felt the need to look around and make sure that they really were alone. He turned to look at the bed first, but the sudden movement in his neck rattled the rest of his body, reminding him he'd been injured during the fight. A pathetically high-pitched cry escaped him. His breaths were forced to become shallow and short for the stinging to go back to a dull throb.

Castiel turned to him, crouching down and resting a hand on his cheek. "I can help you," he said.

"What?"

Castiel moved to place his fingers on Dean's forehead. Just like that, all of the pain he'd felt completely faded away. Dean huffed, looking at the angel with wide eyes.

"Jesus, Cas, is there anything you can't do?"

"Yes."

Dean snickered, shaking his head.

With the help of Castiel, Dean got to his feet. It took him a minute to steady himself. Going from completely in pain to feeling greater than great was kind of intense. Either way, Castiel's ability to patch someone up good as knew was a damn good thing to know.

The angel frowned. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. What did you do?"

"I healed you."

"No, I mean what did you do to that thing?"

"Oh. I sent it to a wooded area north of here. It should be confused and disoriented right now. I," he paused. "I couldn't kill it just by touching it."

"You couldn't kill it?" Dean scoffed. "Well, if a freaking angel can't kill something..."

"It's not invincible," Castiel assured him. "Now that I've touched it, I understand what it is. We can get rid of it."

"Well, what the hell is it?"

"A tulpa."

"A tulpa?"

"Yes."

"Who's the bastard that made it?"

"The pneuma fingerprints left behind belonged to Lucille Zanetti."

Dean openly stared at him. "I'm sorry – what? A seven year old girl was actually able to conjure that thing into reality?"

"She was very well-educated. Very in tune with her spiritual surroundings."

With the furrowed eyebrows, wide eyes, scrunched nose, it was evident that Dean still wasn't so convinced about who the culprit really was. In his mind it had to be Sebastian Foley. That was the only thing that actually made sense, because how could a little girl want her father to die so badly she was able to create her own supernatural being to kill him? How could a child even think with such darkness, let alone turn it into a reality?

Castiel pressed his lips into a thin line, watching Dean for a moment. Then, slowly, the angel relaxed his features. "We're lucky it wasn't something else," he said. "I know it's easier for you to believe that Sebastian did it, but you have to trust me."

⛥⛥⛥⛥⛥

The sketches were horrible, even for a seven year old. Messy, unsteady lines were continuously drawn over each other, making it much thicker and darker than necessary. If it weren't for the helpful labels pointing to each section then Dean wouldn't even be able to tell if those were the pictures he was supposed to be destroying or not.

"You're sure they won't wake up?" Dean asked, turning to Castiel.

The angel nodded. "Yes."

Shrugging, Dean looked back down at the papers in his hand. He had found five drawings of the same creature in the living room alone, while Castiel found ten in Lucille's bedroom. They had searched the entire household and were sure that there were only fifteen drawings. The materialization process should cease and the creature should no longer exist in physical form.

"Cross your fingers," Dean said, taking a box of matches from his back pocket. He slid the match across the box twice before it caught aflame, tossing it into the logs.

They waited a moment, watching the flames flicker and spark. Dean dropped his pile in first, one at a time, watching the paper turn darker and darker until all that was left were ashes. Castiel burned his share after.

"That girl has one wild imagination," Dean said. He turned his gaze to the mantelpiece.

"Yes. Her mother did read to her often."

"Her father was a Grade A Douchebag," he said, "but she's got one sick, twisted mind."

Castiel stayed silent.

They waited for the fire to fully consume every last inch of paper they'd tossed in there before putting it out. With a deep breath, Dean turned to look at the angel. Castiel's face was much closer than he had anticipated. He took a startled step back. Those blue eyes suddenly felt almost like home. Even more startled than before, he took another step backward to distance himself from the angel.

But Castiel only took two steps forward, his eyes narrowed, his head tilted, his eyebrows furrowed, his curious face way too freaking endearing for Dean's own good.

"Dude." His voice betrayed him. He had wanted to say it firmly, but it came out more affectionate than anything. "We've talked about this. Personal space?"

Still Castiel only watched him. For a moment Dean thought that he was going to take another step toward him, maybe even kiss him, but then the angel stepped back, distancing himself. His suddenly diffident downcast eyes worried Dean.

"My apologies," he said.

Dean cleared his throat, forcing his eyes away from Castiel. "Right. Come on, let's get out of here."

Outside, the morning air pushed at their cheeks. The sun was just beginning to rise, peaking through the gaps between houses and trees to shine on Baby, who sat by the curb patiently awaiting their return. Without a word, Dean walked around to the driver's side and got in, not bothering to wait for Castiel to get inside before starting the car.

"I work today," said Dean, pulling onto the street. "Did you want me to drop you off at home?"

Castiel shook his head. "I'll accompany you."

"Right."

Reaching over, Dean switched the station to classic rock and cranked the volume. It only took one song for the angel to lower it enough for him to be heard.

"Dude, don't mess with Van Halen." Dean reached over to turn it back up.

"You miss hunting," Castiel said.

Nearly running them into the sidewalk, Dean put both hands on the wheel to regain control. He swallowed a lump in his throat. "Sure," he admitted. "Everyone wants to be a hero."

Both men could see Biggerson's 'Open' sign glowing in the dawn. Dean pressed a little harder on the gas pedal.

"Is that your wish?"

They look at each other. "What?"

"To be able to hunt again," Castiel said. "Is that what you desire?"

Snapping his eyes back to the road, Dean tightened his grip on the wheel. "No." He slowed down to turn into the parking lot.

Castiel nodded. "I see."

"I don't have any wishes, Cas." Dean stops the car in the closest available spot to the building. He turned to look at the angel. "I'm perfectly happy where I am."

All Castiel did was stare at him with those intense eyes, like he was reading his mind. That's right, Dean thought. He can.

"What?" he asked.

Castiel frowned. "We both know that isn't true."

Rolling his eyes, Dean turned back to the wheel and took his keys out. He opened the car down and got out, saying; "Maybe the reason you can't get back into Heaven is 'cause your angel buddies are trying to prank you."

"My brothers are not authorized to do that." Castiel was careful not to damage the car as he got out.

"You don't need permission to do something."

"I know."

Both men stared at each other from over the hood of the Impala. Time seemed to have stopped, but life kept moving. Two birds flew directly overhead, coming to rest together on a cable wire. An older woman parked a couple of spots down from them.

Dean turned away. "You want another burger on the house?"

Castiel followed him inside. "Dean, we've talked about this," he said. "I don't eat."

Dean laughed. "Right."

Inside, Castiel sat himself in a booth where he could easily people-watch while he waited for the day to be over. All the angel ever seemed to do was wait.

⛥⛥⛥⛥⛥

"Here."

Dean set a freshly made burger and fries in front of Castiel. The angel stared down at the plate for a few moments. Then his eyes lifted to connect with a set of green.

"Dean, I thought I made it clear-"

"You don't eat," he interrupted in a hushed voice. His eyes shot back and forth before he leaned in. "I know. But you've been sitting there for two and a half hours just staring out the window. If you don't do something, it's going to look suspicious."

Castiel frowned. "I don't have money to pay for this."

"It's on me."

"Dean..."

"Just eat it."

Castiel watched Dean turn away from him to continue his job serving customers who actually had money. For a moment, all Castiel did was watch him take food to their respected consumers. Eventually Dean caught him staring. He gave him an odd look before disappearing into the kitchen.

The angel looked down at his meal. Slowly, tentatively, he picked up the burger with both hands and brought it to his lips. While he knew he wouldn't be able to taste it, the smell was rather appealing. You'd never think something so greasy and unhealthy would smell so savory. He took a bite.

Something unexpected happened within the first second his tongue hit the burger. Flavor exploded in his mouth. The juicy, almost salty taste of the meat and the heat of the melted cheese burned the roof of his mouth but the fresh and chilled lettuce made up for it. It was overwhelming.

Castiel dropped his burger, spitting the food back out immediately and getting to his feet. Heads turned around to stare at him as he got to his feet, creating distance between himself and the food. He looked around, making eye contact with just about all of them one at a time.

Dean rushed over. "Dude, what the hell?" he asked. When he noticed the angel's upset expression, Dean touched his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I could taste it." His voice was quiet.

Dean furrowed his eyebrows. Noticing people were still staring, he offered the other customers a strained smile. "He's okay."

Slowly, most of them turned back to their plates. Some still watched in curiosity.

Dean lowered his voice, directing it back to Castiel. "What do you mean you could taste it?"

"It wasn't just a molecular flavor, Dean." He looked back to the burger. "It was all sorts of different tastes in one burst. Like an atomic bomb. That shouldn't have happened."

Dean took his hand back. "Alright, just calm down, okay? It probably doesn't mean anything."

Castiel stepped toward him, narrowing his eyes. Dean stepped back.

"I have to go," the angel said, pushing past Dean. He walked out the door.

Ignoring the few customers who were still paying attention, he jogged after him. "Cas!" He called to the retreating figure. The angel turned the corner to get behind the building. Dean rounded on him, only to stop himself.

Castiel was gone.

"Great."