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The Great Escape

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Castiel stared at the phone for a long time, sighed heavily, and —

"You've got five seconds to pick up that phone and start dialing."

Right.

He had two choices, neither of which he liked.

In the end, he picked the hard place, not the rock.

—-

A smirk played about Dean Winchester's lips as he stepped over to the window, counted out $250 in small bills, signed some paperwork, and wordlessly motioned to Castiel to follow.

When they reached the Impala, Castiel laid a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Dean ... I ... I don't have words to thank you. I didn't have anywhere else to turn, not without compromising my mission. Thank you, thank you for coming."

Dean whirled upon him, his smile was, in the words of a poet, "all April in a face." "Dude!" he exclaimed, "That was brilliant! You're made the news."

Castiel buried his head in his hands. Shame at having resorted to an act of violence to settle so petty a dispute mixed with the dread of knowing that his actions would not go unnoticed.

"Why so glum? Seriously, people clapped and cheered when that clip came on."

"What people? Where?!"

Dean shrugged. "Sammy and I were hustling some pool down at a local bar and it came on. They even turned up the volume so that people could hear."

With a groan, Castiel sank into the front seat and closed the door.

"Trying to reason with a member of the Westboro Baptist Church —"

"But the LORD doesn't hate anybody, Dean," Castiel interjected softly, urgently. "I was just trying to explain —"

"I know, I know," Dean made a placating gesture with his hands. "But trust me, that group, they can't be reasoned with. Demons are more reasonable than the WBC. Believe me, I know. And you? You stepped right up and —" He howled with laughter. When he recovered somewhat and wiped the tears from his eyes he continued, "And we could see you getting madder and madder and —"

Castiel's face burned with shame as he turned it away.

"then that ratfuck spat on you and BAM!" Dean smacked his hand with his fist loudly. "Down he goes. KTFO'd by an Angel. Suh-weet!"

"Yes," Castiel replied softly, "And again, I —" he sighed. "I thank you for coming to take me out of that place. How much do I owe you?" He reached for the wallet in his pocket. Hopefully it contained enough money.

"Me? Not a dime." Dean grinned ear to ear as he continued,"Because about 30 seconds after it played, and I announced that that was my close personal friend up there, puttin' fist to face for the LORD, you called me, and when I said that I was going to have to quit this game early to go and spring you? People couldn't hand me the money fast enough."

"W-what?" Castiel said, numb with shock.

"Yeah. We're heading back there. They all want to shake your hand and buy you a beer."

"Oh no, I can't —"

Dean flashed him a sharky smile. "Oh yes, you can. Don't make a liar out of me." He paused and said, "There also might be a, uh, friend of ours there, and I'm saying that any action you might want to take upon seeing her ... don't take it, alright? Consider it a small price to pay for me bailing your ass out of jail instead of making you spend all night."

Castiel nodded and forced himself to smile pleasantly. He wondered if the rock might have been the better option. Either way, he was, as the humans said, "damned if you do, damned if you don't."