Castiel is not meeting with Dean tonight.

He's kinda curious about what Dean wants to show him, though...

It's not worth it. He probably just wants to have sex again or something. Or maybe it's just another fruitless attempt at getting him to come back. There's no point in egging it on.

But he was so casual about it. His flippant "come or not; I don't care" attitude almost makes it sound like he'd be doing Castiel a favor if he came, not the other way around. It's intriguing in the worst way and he can't help but wonder...

He shouldn't. He really, really shouldn't. He went 13 years without seeing Dean, and those 13 years were great. It was calm, quiet, safe. Getting mixed up in gang shit — any gang shit — is a surefire way to fuck up every good thing he's built for himself.

He's not going.

That is final.

...

...

...

...

...

Okay, it's 9:30 at night and the curiosity is killing him. He's gonna go.

He slips on some somewhat-presentable clothes. He'd draw as much attention to himself in a trench coat as he would in pajamas, so he opts for a happy medium: jeans, a tee shirt, and a comfortable gray hoodie. It's probably close to what most people wear around there at this hour. No one should bat an eye at him.

He grabs his keys and heads out the door, but he pauses when he reaches his car. He has absolutely no idea what he's getting himself into. He should really prepare for the worst.

He runs back inside and grabs his holster, sliding his gun inside. He carefully covers it with his hoodie. It's probably best that no one see that he's armed. That's just asking for trouble.

Now he can leave. It's long past dark and the streets are mostly empty. The air is so still that it almost feels wrong to turn on the radio so he drives in silence, feelings of dread and anticipation mixing inside of him.

Arrives right on time, and he's careful to make sure his car is locked and all his valuables are hidden before he makes his way to the office building.

The first floor of the building is eerily silent, and he puts a hand on his gun instinctively. This time as he climbs the stairs, he does it in the dark. He'd rather no one see him before he can see them.

There's a shape on the second floor, only visible by the moonlight streaming through the window. CastieI rests his finger on the trigger.

Dean steps out of the shadows and turns on what appears to be a camping lamp. "I was wondering if you were gonna come."

"Thought you said third floor," Castiel remarks.

"Oh, no, I did," Dean says. He pulls a walkie-talkie from his waistband. "Clear?"

"Clear," a voice responds. It almost sounds like Benny, but it's hard to tell.

Dean clips the walkie-talkie back on his jeans. "Okay, now we can go upstairs."

CastieI raises an eyebrow. "What was that about?"

"Wanted to make sure you didn't bring any friends," Dean says with a shrug. "Don't need any other cops jumping in."

CastieI scoffs. "So, what, you have Benny staking the place out?"

Dean shrugs. "I like you; I don't trust you." He jerks his head at him. "And I fail to see the problem with bringing a walkie-talkie to a gunfight."

Castiel takes his hand off his gun. "What do you want to show me?"

"It's upstairs," Dean says.

Castiel follows him up the stairs. Before he can even see the room, he sees the light from the doorway. Why Dean decided to sit in the dark when the floor above him was all lit up, Castiel does not understand, but he doesn't understand a lot of what goes through Dean's mind.

When Dean makes it up there, he steps to the side, letting Castiel up as well. He gestures in front of him, and Castiel looks ahead, confused.

And then he sees it.

"It" being a child.

The kid — a teen, probably, but a kid nonetheless — is sitting criss-cross on the floor surrounded by bright camping lamps with what looks like a Gameboy. When Dean and Castiel appear, he puts his game down and scrambles to his feet.

Castiel glances at Dean. "Is he with you?"

Dean just smiles. Castiel rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to the kid. He's not sure what he expected Dean to show him, but this was not it.

"Castiel?" the kid says quietly, his eyes wide.

"Um..." Castiel frowns. "Yes?"

"I can't believe it," he says. "I've heard so much about you. I never thought I'd actually get to see you again."

Castiel cocks his head to the side. "Do I know you?"

The boy holds up a hand in what appears to be an unmoving wave. "My name's Jack Kline."

Castiel's jaw drops. He looks at Dean, half-expecting to see him holding back a laugh at this shitty attempt at a joke, but Dean just nods once. It's Jack. It's really him.

"Oh my god," Castiel whispers. "You're..." A smile grows on his face despite his best efforts not to let this excite him too much. He may have once loved Jack to pieces, but he's also a gang member. Still, he can't deny that this is a very big moment for him. "You've gotten so big!"

"Well, 13 years tends to do that to a person," Jack says, but there's no malice in his voice. "I've heard so much about you, I almost feel like I know you. When Dean asked if I wanted to meet you — or, you know, re-meet you — I couldn't believe it."

"I can't believe it either," Castiel says. "How are you? What've you been up to?"

"Meh," he says. "Dean hasn't really let me leave my room in a couple weeks — but I've gotten really good at Tetris! I beat Claire's high score this morning. She's gonna be so mad when I give it back to her tomorrow!"

"I'm sorry, Dean what?" Castiel shoots him a look. What the hell is he doing, holding the kid prisoner like that?

Dean rolls his eyes. "And Jack, why are you grounded?"

Jack frowns. "Because I got involved in a gun fight and people died."

Dean gestures to him, his gaze still on Castiel. "See? There's a method to my dadness."

CastieI cracks a smile at that in spite of himself. To Jack, he says, "I'm glad you're okay, at least."

Jack gives a small shrug. "I miss Alex, though."

CastieI nods sympathetically. "What happened, anyway?"

"The Vamps —"

"Don't," Dean interrupts, and Jack shuts up immediately.

CastieI scoffs. "The fuck?"

When Dean answers, it's directed at Jack: "Cop."

"Right, sorry," he mumbles.

"Gee, thanks," Castiel deadpans. He has all the information he needs, though. The Vamps -- or Vampires to those who like extra syllables -- are one of the biggest gangs in the state, second only to the Hunters. Benny was in that gang for a while before he ditched, which serves as both a reason Castiel doesn't trust Benny and a reason he doesn't trust the Vamps.

"I always forget you're a cop," Jack remarks. "The way my dad talks about you, you always seemed like such a badass. It's weird to think you joined..." He makes a face. "Law enforcement."

Castiel ignores that. "How's your dad doing, anyway?"

"He's doing good," Jack says. His face lights up and he reaches into his pocket. "I completely forgot!"

Castiel finds himself reaching for his gun out of instinct, and he has to force himself to stop. He's just a kid — and he's with Dean, who (probably?) wouldn't let either of them get hurt.

Jack pulls out a folded-up piece of paper and holds it out to him. "One side's from my dad and one side's from Uncle Gabe."

CastieI eyes it warily. "What is it?"

"It's just a letter," Jack says. "Since they couldn't be here."

Castiel finds himself hesitating, though he's not quite sure why.

"Take it," Dean says. "Read it when you get the chance. It's cute."

Castiel takes the letter and slips it in his pocket. To Dean, he says, "You read it?"

Dean shrugs. "You have a habit of stealing my people away from me. Wanted to make sure it wasn't happening again." He says it dismissively, but Castiel can tell he still harbors a grudge over it. Castiel can't blame him.

"My dad says he wishes he could be here," Jack says. "He wanted me to tell you that if you decided you wanted to come back, you could, no questions asked. He really misses you." With a sad smile, he adds, "We all really miss you."

"I miss you, too," Castiel says, and holy hell, is it true. He didn't even realize he did until now. He supposes he'd always been passively aware of the fact that he'd like to see his brothers again someday, but it's only really hitting him now just how much he'd enjoy that. But he can't; he knows he can't. "But I'm not coming back."

Jack nods solemnly. "I figured. But, you know, if you ever change your mind..." He gives a small shrug "I'd really like to have my uncle back."

"I know," Castiel says quietly. "I know."