The smell of motor oil, leather, and a summer breeze filled the air. Blue Öyster Cult’s “Don’t fear the reaper” and the rhythmic thunder of Baby’s motor were the only sounds Dean could hear. He had one hand on the steering wheel while the other was tapping along with the song, resting where the rolled down window normally resides. He was relaxed for the first time in a long time. Serene. Peaceful. He made a right hand turn onto a small country road, letting the asphalt lead him to wherever it was willing to take him. Him and only one other car were on the road, that car being a good distance ahead of him. All of that peace and serenity shattered as a screech wailed from the car in front of him.
Turns out that they were approaching a small four way and another car peeled out going a lot faster than it should’ve been, hitting the front end of the car that was once in front of Dean. Both cars spun out, one of them landing in a ditch, while the-car-going-way-faster-than-humanly-possible stood on all four wheels at the other end of the road. Dean came to a screeching halt, and barely put the car in park before sprinting out to the car nearest to him.
He arrived at the car that got hit and went to look in the drivers seat. The driver had his head resting on the steering wheel with blood dripping down his forehead at a rather alarming pace. Dean checked his pulse to see if he was still alive. Is it the right side or the left that I check? Dean couldn’t remember for the life of him, so he just moved his hand all around the underside of his jaw to feel a pulse or a beat or anything. When he finally found it, he let out an audible sigh of relief, comforted by the fact that the man wasn’t dead. He then remembered there was another car, so he shot up and started running to the other side of the road. He reached the drivers side and peered into the car. This time it was a woman, who looked no older than 25. She was probably out for a joyride when her life flashed before her young eyes. Dean’s breaths started to become more shallow and his heart started beating faster than it did when he was running. He punched the window, hoping to be able to get to her while she was still alive. It took two full force hits to finally get through. He immediately reached his hand through the opening and felt around her neck, whispering prayers that this young life wouldn’t be taken in front of him. He finally found a pulse, albeit faint. A realization slapped him in the face at that moment, he should probably call an ambulance. He patted himself down when he remembered that his phone was in the passenger seat, now probably in the floor boards considering how hard he hit the brakes. He once again got up and ran, this time to his beloved Baby, hoping that she wasn’t hurt and that his phone wasn’t broken.
He threw the drivers side door open, searching for the small device. He finally found it, turned it on, and hastily typed 911. Please please please please he begged as he hit the call button. The phone didn’t even ring before a woman’s voice calmingly stated, “911 what is your emergency?” He thanked whatever gods in that moment that he hadn’t lost service.
“Hi yeah um so there was this wreck that just happened in front of me. A car came really fast at the four way and hit the other car. It completely tore the front bumper off of it, but I checked both of the drivers. They’re both unconscious and one of their pulses is really hard to feel but they’re okay for now. You need to get an ambulance out here now.”
The words seemed to spill out of him faster than he could think.
“Alright sir, calm down. Where are you at right now?” She asked in that calming voice.
Dean started turning his head in every direction, trying to find a road sign of any kind to show him where he was. It was then he recalled seeing a road sign a few miles back when he turned onto the little country road.
“Uh I saw a road sign a few miles back. It was something like 726? I don’t know for sure but we’re on a little country road.”
It seemed to be enough information for the woman because he could hear a keyboard typing in the background of the call.
“Yes sir you’re on country road 726. Someone has already called in for an ambulance.”
How in the hell? He thought. He looked up and down both roads again, making sure no more cars were coming or had stopped to see the aftermath of the wreck that had happened not minutes before. He went back to the car that was in the ditch and peered into the window, thinking he’d find the man still unconscious. Though, what he found surprised him. Nothing. He looked all around the car to make sure he hadn’t crawled out anywhere, but he still found nothing. The man had disappeared.
Slightly alarmed, Dean ran to the other car and looked into the drivers side window. Once again, he found nothing. He cautiously walked around the car hoping to find something, anything. The young woman had disappeared into thin air. He went and checked both cars, a second, third, finally a fourth time. Each time he found the same thing. An empty and wrecked vehicle. He hadn’t realized he had dropped his phone by his car, so he hastily went back to retrieve it. He looked back up the road as he was picking up his phone, and saw a man standing at the hill above the four way. He was facing the other way, looking off into the distance as if he were trying to watch the sunset. He had a dark mop of hair, was wearing a pair of nice fitting jeans and a white collared dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his forearms. Dean noticed he was also barefoot, but couldn’t make out anymore features considering how far away the man was standing. As Dean’s eyes focused on the man, he saw he was bathed in a soft aura of golden light. What the fuck? Dean thought. He started walking towards the man, calling out to him for help. The man didn’t move. Dean walked a bit faster, thinking he may be a bit too far for the man to hear. He increased the volume of his voice, continuously calling for help. Dean blinked, and there was another man walking in a suit, holding a handgun of some kind, towards the glowing man. Dean’s heartbeat quickened and he started running towards the glowing man, yelling at him now.
The man in the suit pointed his gun right up to the glowing mans temple. Dean could hear his heartbeat now as a shot of adrenaline coursed through his body. He screamed as loud as he could, trying to warn the man of his untimely demise if he didn’t move. Still, the man stood, unmoving. Dean was running as fast as his legs could carry him now, only about 20 feet away. He looked up to the man holding the gun, only able to make out his translucent mustard eyes and vicious smile before he pulled the trigger.
Dean awoke abruptly, his sweaty t-shirt clinging onto him for dear life. He could still hear the faint ringing in his ears from the realistic gunshot that went of in his head not ten seconds ago. His heart was beating as if he had just ran a marathon, and he was sweating, yet cold at the same time. He turned over to his bedside clock which read 3:29.
“It’s too early for this shit.” He said to the empty room.
He took a few calming breaths then threw his comforter to the side, slowly climbing out of his bed. He peeled off his sweat-laden shirt and tossed it in some corner. Eh, whatever. He’d pick it up later. He took a brisk shower, washing off all the sweat and residue the nightmare had left him. Dean changed into a clean shirt and some ratty jeans that had a few oil stains. It was Monday morning, he didn’t need to wear anything fancy since he worked at the local auto shop. He walking into the kitchen, furnished with a modern stove and two ovens. What can he say? He was good with his hands, so he enjoyed cooking, drawing, and tuning up any old classic car he could find. He had a fairly average sized apartment, consisting of two bedrooms and a bathroom. The living room was furnished with a flat screen tv and an old hand-me-down leather couch that his Uncle’s friend Rufus gave him, along with a bookshelf he didn’t really use other than his sketch books(although Sam did when he didn’t have anywhere else to put his weird old history books. Nerd). Dean had a guest room he had never used, and his bedroom was sparsely furnished with a bed, dresser, and a nightstand.
He took his pill bottle which read fluoxetine and swallowed two pills dry. PTSD can be a bitch sometimes. Dean absently reached for his coffee pot, but found nothing occupying it. He looked at the coffee maker. The time read 3:52. He added a new filter, some more coffee grounds and water to it. Dean punched a few buttons that would normally get it to start brewing, but he heard a few odd sputtering noises, then nothing. He hit the buttons a few more times, then hit it on the side a couple more for good measure. Still, no coffee was brewing.
“Piece of shit.” Dean punctuated that statement with another hit to the side of the coffee maker.
If his nightmare hadn’t made the start of the day shitty enough, he now had no coffee to take his mind off of the barefooted, glowing man.
Chapter 2: Chapter 2
In which they meet.
Sorry this took me so long to post. I’ll try to be more consistent. Anyways, enjoy :)
“You see, the Reformation Era was one of the
most controversial events in history. Prior to this period, the Roman Catholic Church essentially had absolute power over both the people and governments. When many educated men of the time began to question the Church’s practices and the Bible-“
The school bell echoed in the auditorium of a room Cas was teaching in, bringing his lecture on the Reformation Era to a sudden halt.
“Alright everyone, we will resume this discussion tomorrow. Don’t forget your presentations are due at 11:59 pm sharp, preferably before then.”
Students hastily gathered their things and filed out of Mr. Novak’s History class. Once everyone had left, he slouched into his rather ancient office chair, cradling his face in his hands and rubbing his temples. The night had not been kind to Cas. He stayed up until eleven grading rather shitty essays about the Middle Ages. When he had gotten tired of procrastinating-college-students and their poor explanations, he decided to call it a night. Yet when he had gotten comfortable in his cocoon of fluffed pillows and duvet comforter, sleep wouldn’t come to him. He tossed and turned for what seemed like days, growing more frustrated with each hour ticking away on his bedside clock. He gave up and threw his comforter back, retreating to the kitchen to hopefully do something productive while insomnia mocked him. He ended up cleaning his whole kitchen, doing two loads of laundry, and organized the unsatisfactory essays before passing out on the couch. That, of course left, him with a grand total of three hours of sleep and a crook in his neck the next morning. Now, he felt the exhaustion crash into him. Cas sighed into his hands, bringing one of them to sweep through his dark soft locks, pulling on the small strands at the back of his neck and letting it fall to his side helplessly. Mustering up all his strength, he arose from the groaning office chair, shoving leaflets of papers into his computer bag. He shrugged on his trench coat, it hanging from his frame like a limp flag, and trudged into the parking lot.
The Lincoln Continental sitting in his normal parking spot greeted him with an old car smell that never went away when he opened the door. Cas threw his bag into the passenger seat and peeled out of the parking lot. He yawned, hoping that he could throw himself into bed and sleep through the next week.
Of course, that’s not what the universe had planned for Cas. As he was approaching a four way (and driving rather sleepily), the car behind him decided it was a good idea to rear end him, throwing Cas into a more alert state. After the car skidded across the asphalt a couple of feet due to the reckless driver behind him, he parked it and flew out of the drivers side door at a speed an airplane would be impressed by. His trench coat flying like a cape behind him, he surveyed the damage his back bumper took. It had put a prominent dent near his back right wheel, and considering Cas didn’t know shit about cars, he knew it was bad enough that he couldn’t just drive home. Cas whipped his head around, looking for anyone who would help him out since the asshole-of-a-driver had the audacity to speed past him once they hit him. Seeing no one, he sighed angrily and pulled out his phone to call the local towing company. Of course of all days, I had to get in a wreck on the shittiest day of the week. Wonderful, He thought to himself. A man with a gruff voice, grated with years of use picks up the phone.
“Singer’s towing and auto. Whattya need?” The gruff voice answers with a haggard tone.
“Hello. My car just got rear ended and it seems to have put a prominent dent near the right back wheel. It doesn’t look like I will be able to drive it to the nearest auto shop.”
“Well damn, who’d you piss off?”
Cas was slightly taken aback by the sarcasm, his fuse for patience burning alarmingly short.
“I was just kiddin’ with you. Tell me where you’re at and I’ll have a truck coming your way.”
Cas rattled off his current location, thanks to the street name on the stop sign he barely managed to miss. With a few more mumbled words, the haggard man hung up the phone, informing Cas that a truck would be there in about ten minutes. Cas slumped onto the curb closest to him, sighing tiredly with his face in his hands. He imagined himself driving home without incident, taking his trench coat off and dropping it to the floor unceremoniously, climbing into his cloud of a bed, and drifting off to sleep. In his imagination, he sleeps for three weeks, his dreams filled with the little bit of happy memories he has. A large tow truck pulls up in front of his car, his ten minutes already up. An older chocolate skinned man, his once dark hair now turning grey at the edges, exits the tow truck once he’s done hooking up Cas’ car. He waltzes over to Cas, stopping five feet away from him.
“You need a ride or you just gonna sit there lookin’ sad?”
The older man doesn’t ask with much curiosity to his tone, and sounds almost like how Cas feels. Apparently the whole garage is employed with people who speak with sarcasm dripping from their tongue. Without saying a word, Cas looked up at him with a glare and trudged to the truck, opening the passenger side door and sitting himself glumly into the seat. A second later, the older man hobbled into the drivers side and started the engine. Cas laid his head on the cool glass of the window, knowing he wouldn’t get any sleep on the ten minute drive, yet he closed his eyes anyways.
The ten minutes had passed blearily slow. The older man next to him hadn’t said anything the whole drive, sensing that Cas wasn’t in the mood to talk. He didn’t seem in much of a mood for conversation either. The gravel road crunched under the trucks’ tires as they pulled into Singers’ Towing and Auto. Opening his eyes, Cas didn’t immediately recognize the place. It was out on the side of a highway, blocked from the eye’s view by columns of salvaged cars. When you passed the cars, there a clearing which was relatively clean of any deteriorating automobiles. To the right, there was a garage that looked rather new. More towards the back, almost to where you can’t see in the dim light of night, was an old two story house that looked like it had once happily housed a family. The truck pulled up to the garage and stopped. Cas was about to pull on the handle to get out, but he stopped himself at the last second. He looked over to the older man, noticing there was a name etched into the pair of overalls he was wearing. Rufus.
“Thank you, Rufus. I greatly appreciate your help and the ride.”
“No problem kid. Now stop sulking and go inside.”
A small smile spread on Cas’ face before he exited the truck. The gravel crunched under his feet as he walked towards the office, a bit of confidence rejuvenating his once exhausted form. He entered the office and approached the counter where a younger man with black silky hair was typing away on a computer. Though before he could open his mouth to speak, a door from his right side swung open, and a libidinous man walked through it. He was an inch or so taller than Cas, his toned calves and bow legs carrying him into the room with a sway to his hips. He was dressed in overalls that were covered in oil stains, his undershirt soaked in sweat and sporting its own stains as well. He held a dirty rag, likely wiping his hands of the gunk that once took its place. His arms were thick with muscle and shoulders broad, probably from the labor of being a mechanic, if his appearance were anything to go by. His hair was a dirty blond hue with highlights of black wherever the oil decided to stick. His lips were plump, just waiting to be kissed. And his eyes, oh god his eyes. They were a gorgeous shade of forest green, flecked with gold as if the sunshine reflected off of his leaves of green. They shone, likely from the exhilaration of manual labor. His whole body was basked in a sheen of sweat, his cheekbones highlighted by it. Cas’ eyes focused on a stray drop that was cascading down his chiseled jaw and onto his toned neck, the column of his throat, his collarbone, then finally disappearing under the soaked shirt. He was absolutely stunning. Cas couldn’t tear his eyes away, and his heart picked up speed for every second he spent staring. His ears were ringing with white noise as the man looked over at Cas, eyes meeting, emerald irises locking with blue.
As Dean suspected, his day went fairly shitty. Starting off his morning coffee-deprived didn’t work well for him, as he forgot to make himself a lunch even though he was up three hours before normal. He drove to work in a fog, meaning that every person in front of him drove like a hurricane was approaching. Slow. So very, very slow. He arrived to the garage grouchier than he was when he left the house, going straight for the coffee machine that was normally always full. He poured himself a generous amount in a small foam cup, downing it black, even though it was scorching hot. As he was pouring his second cup, Bobby wheeled in the front door .
“You just gonna take it all for yourself and leave the rest of us to fend for ourselves?”
Dean’s mood mixed with Bobby’s sarcasm and the slim-to-none amount of sleep he got didn’t add up to Dean getting any perkier.
“Shut up Bobby. Didn’t sleep good last night. I don’t feel too well, either”
“Oh I’m sorry princess. When you’re an old hag like me you don’t sleep well at all, oh and when you have your whole lower body paralyzed, come talk to me about not feeling too well. Quit yer whining. Now git.”
Bobby snatched the coffee pot from him, the last bit of Dean’s composure dissolving. He downed what he had poured into the small cup, throwing it away in the small trash can by the coffee maker, and stomped into the room which held lockers for the mechanics and their belongings. He grumbled to himself as he put on his overalls. He got them halfway on before he noticed that they were backwards. Sighing tiredly, he took them off and readjusted them. Though of course he made a wrong move and tripped in the process. Yeah, he was going to be making many more trips to that coffee pot.
The rest of the day wasn’t too terrible, save for Bobby’s constant whining that Dean kept on stealing from the coffee pot, even though it was for public use. When he finally got under the hood of an old Ford Thunderbird, his mood brightened exponentially. The manual labor calmed his mind, and he enjoyed his job, especially when a beauty like this came in every now and then. The rest of the day passed in a blur as he tuned up the Ford, and before he knew it, the darkness of night began to engulf the sky. He heard a truck pull up in the distance, remembering Bobby telling him about an accident that happened earlier, though that was background noise at the time. Dean grabbed a rag and began to wipe of his hands, walking into the office to ask Bobby about the details of the incoming car. When he lifted his eyes upon entering the room, he was struck with a gust of wind that left him breathless.
A man wearing a sad looking trench coat was standing in the middle of the room. The man was only about an inch or so shorter than Dean, yet his Adonis-like structure had him wondering what kind of toned muscles were hiding under that coat of his. His head was a mop of silky dark hair, untamed and begging for Deans’ fingers to comb through it. Speaking of fingers, the Adonis’ were long and thick, looking like they had much better use to be made of rather than hanging by his sides. Oh god, I better lose that train of thought before I embarrass myself, he thought. The lights in the room didn’t do justice to the tanned skin that looked like it had seen every hour of each summer day. He had bags under his eyes, probably from a long day at work. His chiseled jaw looked like it could cut someone’s hand off, and a days worth of stubble littered his skin. He finally looked into the man’s eyes, and oh boy that was a mistake. They were a dark shade of ocean blue that had whatever air Dean had left in his lungs to escape. He admired the stunning man for what seemed like centuries before he came back to himself, noticing the man was staring at him. He shifted a bit, gaining his composure before walking up to the man and holding out his hand.
“Hi, I’m Dean.”
The man seemed a bit startled, but he quickly came to and slotted his hand into Dean’s waiting one.
“Hello Dean. I’m Cas.”
A palpable electricity zinged through them, both of the men noticing it at the same time. They locked eyes again, those baby blues searching him, as if they were staring into his soul. The handshake was a bit longer than necessary, so Dean reluctantly pulled back. He tore his eyes away and cleared his throat, his composure crumbling under the man’s gaze.
“Well, lets go look at the reason you’re here. Shall we?”
Dean led Cas to the door he had just came out of; An old Lincoln Continental taking the Thunderbirds place.
“Huh. No wonder you got in that wreck. This car is a piece of shit.” Dean mumbles
“Actually, the reason I got into a wreck was an impatient reckless driver who thought that rear-ending me would get them to their destination quicker.”
Dean stopped short in his inspection, taken aback by the quick-witted response. He turned to Cas, noticing how the man was barely holding himself up. He looked exhausted.
“Hey man, I’m sorry. Your car is gonna have to stay here for a while. Your back bumper is shredded, so I’ll have to order a new one, considering whether they even make those anymore. You can take one of our cars until yours gets fixed up, though I wouldn’t count on it being done for a little while.”
Cas seemed far away, staring off into the distance. Dean placed his hand on Cas’ shoulder, hoping to bring the man back from whatever galaxy he was currently stuck in.
“Hey buddy, you ok?”
He got a reaction alright. Cas’ face flushed a crimson red. That electricity zinged through them again, shocking Dean. He lifted his hand off of Cas’ shoulder, glad the man hadn’t fallen asleep standing up.
“Yes. Just a bit tired. A few more hours of sleep would’ve been greatly appreciated right about now.”
A small chuckle made its way out of Dean, making Cas’ eyes dart up to meet his. A small smile wormed its way onto Cas’ features, lighting his whole demeanor. Dean immediately made it his mission to see that smile again. He led Cas back into the office, leaning over the desk to grab a pen, a card, and a key. He quickly scribbled his name and number down on the card, heart beating at an erratic pace. He turned to the waiting man, handing him they key first.
“Here’s the key to your rental. You won’t have to pay for it, so don’t worry.”
He took a breath, and with slightly shaking fingers, he handed Cas the card.
“And uh, here’s my number if you need anything else. You can call me at anytime. For you know, uh, car recommendations whenever you finally decide to get rid of that hunk of shit back there.”
Cas’ face flushes in that beautiful shade of crimson, a gummy smile following. He ducks his head a little bit, taking the card and holding it in his hands, rather than pocketing it with the key.
“Thank you Dean. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Yeah, no problem.”
They stand there for a few seconds, emerald meeting sapphire, with small smiles decorating their faces. Satisfied with his soul-searching, Cas turns and saunters out of the auto shop. Dean releases a breath he didn’t think he was holding. He hears a whistle behind him, knocking him out of his stupor.
“Wow Winchester. Didn’t think you had it in you.”
Dean turns around to Kevin peering up at him over the counter, and Rufus and Bobby in the doorway with shit-eating grins.
“Shuttup. I’m going home.”
He hears laughter erupt from behind him as he walks into the locker room. As he takes off his overalls and climbs into his car later, he’s still smiling.