Usually when Castiel is nervous the night before a court case, it's because he doesn't want to fuck the case up. Right now, lying in bed restlessly late on Sunday night, that's the last thing on his mind.

What the hell is he supposed to do about Dean? He can't meet him tomorrow — his court appearance is far more important — but he's almost afraid to find out what will happen when he doesn't show. Is he going to be mad? Is he going to make sure Castiel knows he's mad?

It wouldn't be so bad if he could just tell Dean that he can't go. At least then he wouldn't just be blowing the guy off. Dean would (probably?) understand if he knew. It's not like Castiel can just text him and explain, though. He has absolutely no idea how to reach him. He doesn't have a phone number, an email, even an address...

But he does know where Dean is going to be tomorrow...

Sleep clearly isn't going to happen, so, like the idiot he is, he gives up on it. He crawls out of bed and flicks the light on. How is it possible to be so fucking tired and completely incapable of sleeping? The human body works in mysterious ways.

Castiel is planning on seeing anyone, but he's sure he'll be passed by a few cars on the way and he'd like to look somewhat respectable in case anyone happens to recognize him, so he throws on a pair of jeans and his trench coat. This is good enough, right?

He grabs a pen and a blank piece of paper. He rests the tip of the pen on the page, then pauses. What does he want to write? What exactly does he want Dean to know?

Ah, fuck it. He'll just wing it.

Dean,

Some of us have jobs.

— CN

That's good enough, right? He doesn't have to know the specifics. Content, he folds it up and puts it in an envelope. He writes a big "DW" on the front in Sharpie. That should get his attention. He grabs a roll of duct tape just in case.

And now for the fun part: a drive to Main Street in the dead of night.

Main Street is simultaneously the most safe and least safe in the city (excluding, of course, directly in gang territory). It's located downtown, where a lot of sketchy people hang out. It's home to so many drug transactions that Castiel felt like he practically lived there back when he was in narcotics. It's also a breeding ground for gang fights, usually when the smaller gangs in the area want to prove their worth and take a Hunter down along the way. Fortunately, there are enough normal people driving around at all hours of the day that the only real risk is getting caught in the crossfire of someone else's battle.

He really hopes he doesn't run into any of the Hunters here.

He pulls up beside the apartment building Dean had referenced earlier. It's just as fucked up as usual. No one even tries to fix the windows or clean the graffiti anymore. The lock on the front door has been busted since he was in high school; he just walks right in. He's vaguely aware that this is trespassing, but in his defense, he's trespassing on property that no one gives two shits about anymore.

He uses his phone flashlight to guide himself up the rickety old stairs. Floor three, right where Dean wanted to meet. Castiel pulls out the envelope and looks around for a good place to put it. The wall by the stairs is probably good enough, right? He rips off a strip of duct tape off the roll and tapes the letter up.

Perfect.

He feels a little better after that. At least now Dean knows why he won't show up. He'd like to think that means he won't retaliate because of it.

And with that, Castiel heads back home. Maybe this time he can actually go to sleep.