CastieI falls asleep in Dean's arms that night.

The next morning, he wakes up alone.

Though he's much more tired now than he was when he went to sleep, he reluctantly sits up and turns his alarm off. Admittedly, he's more motivated by the empty spot on the bed next to him than he is by the prospect of going to work, but anything to get him up is probably for the best.

He puts a hand down next to him on the mattress. It still feels a little warm. Maybe Dean just got up to use the bathroom. Or maybe he's raiding the kitchen; that's a very Dean thing to do.

He hops out of bed — literally; maybe if he pretends he has energy, he'll actually find some — and heads to the kitchen. He has no real reason to think he'll find him there, but it doesn't make it any less disappointing when he doesn't. He doesn't come up completely empty-handed, though. There's a napkin and a pen sitting on the kitchen table, and CastieI knows even before he picks it up who it's from.

YOU WERE RIGHT. WE'VE SAID GOODBYE TOO MANY TIMES. WHAT WOULD BE THE POINT OF DOING IT AGAIN?

THANKS FOR A GOOD NIGHT. I NEEDED IT.

LOVE,

D.W.

Castiel puts the napkin back down with a sigh. This isn't what he'd meant at all. How did Dean ever think this was what he wanted? How could he think the best ending to a night as quiet and meaningful as that was sudden radio silence?

But maybe it's for the best. Goodbyes were always the hardest part. And, with how fucking tired he is, he would have been surprised if it hadn't ended in tears. He's not sure he would have made it through a full day of work without breaking down.

Instead, he just goes through the motions. He throws on the first professional-looking outfit he puts his hands on and lazily runs a hand through his hair a few times to neaten it up — not that it succeeds, but it's the thought that counts. He isn't at all confident that he has everything he needs with him when he heads for the car, but at this point, he doesn't care enough to make sure.

The first thing Charlie says to him when he picks them up is a very blunt, "You look like you got hit by a bus."

CastieI chuckles half-heartedly. "That obvious?"

She nods sympathetically. "What happened? You still hung up on the whole Target thing yesterday?"

He shakes his head. Was that really just yesterday? It feels like a lifetime ago.

"Then what's up?" Charlie asks. "What's going on with you?"

"I just..." He shrugs. "I stayed up late. In hindsight, it was not a good idea."

"Dude, you were one day away from the weekend," Charlie reminds him. "One. Day. You couldn't have waited one more day before killing your sleep schedule?"

"Apparently not," Castiel says. "I'd like to think I've learned my lesson, but I don't know if I believe it."

"I don't believe it," Charlie volunteers.

Castiel chuckles. "Thanks, Charles. I really appreciate your confidence in me."

~~

CastieI does get dangerously close to falling asleep at work, but he makes it through the day without any mental breakdowns, so he supposes it could be worse. Finally, it's time to head home, where he can take a nice, long nap.

They've barely sat down when Castiel's phone vibrates, and he pulls it out to see not only an unfamiliar number, but an unfamiliar area code as well. If he thought he'd have time, he'd google the area code to decide whether it's worth answering. Though he supposes whoever owns the number may not live there anymore; it could be a local who moved from god-knows-where, so that wouldn't help as much as he'd thought.

"Who is it?" Charlie asks, peering over his shoulder.

"Probably a spam call," Castiel says. "Could be someone calling about a case, though." Admittedly, that's a fairly rare occurrence, especially without any new cases, but it's always a possibility.

"Answer it," Charlie urges him. "If it's a spam call, I wanna mess with them."

Castiel chuckles. "Alright, here." He answers the call and puts it on speaker, holding the phone out between them. "Detective Novak speaking." He figures it's probably worth starting with that in case it really is a call about a case.

"Oh, it's 'detective' now," an unfamiliar man's voice says, and CastieI cocks his head to the side, puzzled. "Fancy."

CastieI glances at Charlie, but they look just as confused as he is. After a pause, he asks a tentative, "I'm sorry, who is this?"

"Sam," he says. "Sam Winchester."

Castiel snatches his phone and takes it off speaker. He's not sure what this is about, but he'd be surprised if it was something he wanted Charlie to over hear.

"How'd you get my number?" Castiel asks. He's not upset or accusative; he's just curious. He didn't have this phone when he lived in California for a few years. There's no way Sam should have his number.

Charlie hits his shoulder to get his attention and mouths, "What the hell?" Castiel waves that off. Not now.

"This wonderful new thing called 'the internet,'" Sam replies. Funny enough, that's basically the same answer he got when he asked how Dean found his apartment. Maybe the internet is too powerful... "I know this is really out-of-the-blue, but I don't know who else I could ask. Have you heard from Dean lately?"

CastieI glances at Charlie as if they could possibly hear what they're saying. Fortunately, the look on their face says more than enough: they have absolutely no idea.

"A few times," Castiel says, trying to keep his answer vague enough that Charlie doesn't piece anything together. "I probably won't again, though, if that's what you mean."

"Oh, no, that's fine," Sam says. "I just got a very interesting 'hypothetical' email from him this morning and I was hoping you knew what the hell he's been up to lately before I write back."

Castiel frowns. He's not sure how to feel about that yet. "What did it say?"

"Just a lot of legal questions," Sam says. "I didn't really bat an eye at the drug ones, but there were a few that have me a little concerned."

CastieI hesitates. He has a feeling he knows what they were about. He just can't figure out how to ask with Charlie right next to him. He doesn't want to say Dean's name. Hell, he doesn't even want to use male pronouns because she knows who he's talking to and those would be very easy dots to connect.

Finally, Castiel settles on, "Did you hear about the shooting at Target yesterday? It's all over the news here. They have a picture of the guy's face but I can't think of his name for the life of me. Maybe you can help."

"What?"

"Google it," Castiel says says simply.

Sam pauses. "There's someone listening to your side of the conversation, isn't there?"

Oh, thank god he figured it out. "Yeah."

"Okay, hang on, I'll look it up." He must turn the phone on speaker because the sound of his keyboard clicking away is impossible to miss. Castiel looks out the window while he waits. Anything is better than looking at Charlie, whom he knows is confused out of her mind. He knows when Sam's found it when he hears the quiet, "Oh, fuck," through the speaker. "He killed someone on camera?"

"That's what I said!" Castiel replies. "I mean, do what you gotta do in the streets, but that was..." He lets out a low whistle. "So, did that answer your questions?"

"Yes, and it left me with a million more," Sam replies. "You're looking for my brother?"

"Not anymore," Castiel says. "Not my case."

"So someone else is looking for my brother," Sam says. "That's... great."

"Consider yourself lucky you're not here," Castiel says. "They've been having a hell of a time these last few months." Between the mall shootout where they lost Alex, the bank robbery, and now this, the Hunters have had it pretty rough. "That everything? 'Cause my partner is very impatiently waiting for a ride home."

"Yeah, thanks," Sam says. "Just, one more thing before I let you go?"

"Hmm?"

"If they catch Dean, tell me," Sam says. "And if they don't? Try to keep it that way."

"Don't worry; I'm already on it," Castiel says. "Bye, Sam. It was nice to hear from you again."

"You, too," he says. "Thanks for this."

"Any time."

Click.

Castiel puts his phone down and looks over at Charlie. He has a feeling they won't be leaving any time soon. She's going to want some answers first — a lot of answers.

"Sam Winchester?" they repeat, an accusing eyebrow raised. "Of any relation to Dean Winchester?"

With no other viable choice, Castiel reluctantly nods. "Yeah, that was his brother."

"Okay, and why the fuck were you talking to Dean Winchester's brother?" Charlie demands. "And why the fuck couldn't I listen?"

Castiel sighs. "Look, I know this looks... weird... but I haven't talked to Sam in years. He had a question about what was going on, I answered it, that's all you need to know." He reaches for the key to start the engine, but his friend grabs his wrist and stops him.

"Cas, he's a criminal," Charlie says. "He's in a gang — a really big, really bad gang."

Castiel almost wants to inform them that it's not, in fact, a very bad gang, but he decides against it. "Dean Winchester is in a gang. Sam Winchester is not."

"What?" Charlie furrows her brows. "But I swore you said Dean's been running that gang since he was a kid. Wouldn't his brother have been a kid too? And, you know, with him?"

That's some fairly flawed logic, but she does come to the (mostly) right conclusion so he doesn't mention it. "Remember when I told you that when I left, it was because someone else wanted to leave, too?"

Charlie nods slowly. "Yeah, 'cause you thought Dean was gonna be pissed if you knew someone was leaving and didn't tell him. Why?"

"That someone was Sam," Castiel says. "He got a full ride to Stanford, I found the letter, and we made it work. I think he's a lawyer now or something." Of all the possible reactions he'd thought Dean would have to that, he didn't think an out-of-the-blue law-related email would be one of them, but here they are.

Charlie makes a face at that last part — it's hard to appreciate lawyers when they seemingly exist only to help the criminals they track down walk free — but otherwise, they seem pretty understanding. "So that's why you thought Dean was gonna be mad."

Castiel just nods.

"Things are starting to make a lot more sense now," she tells him. "So what did Sam want? I'm assuming he didn't just call to catch up."

"He just got a weird email," Castiel says. "He wondered if it was connected to the Hunters somehow. It didn't seem to be." At least the part about him getting an email was true, right? So it's only a half lie.

"Ah," she says. "And nothing on the Target thing?"

"Nope," Castiel says. "Didn't even recognize the guy. It was worth a shot, though." He forces a smile. "Now let's head home. I really want a nap."