The last week of class was always challenging in high school. The kids had more and more trouble staying focused in class, so it was more and more challenging for Dean to capture and keep their attention. He couldn’t really blame them. He remembered spring fever well from his own youth. Hell, he wasn’t exactly immune now. He loved teaching, he really did, but summer vacation wasn’t any less alluring now than it had been then. 

 This was the last period of the day, and it was a gorgeous day out. So why were Krissy and Alex still in the classroom, instead of escaping like the rest of the kids had? 

They were slowly putting their books and notes away, talking at the same time. Dean started paying more attention. 

 “It’s really… I don’t know. PBS shows are usually boring, but this one is cool,” Krissy said. “My mom was watching it the other day. She thinks the host is hot. Like, ugh. He’s too young for her. Too old for me, but too young for her. He’s somewhere in his thirties, isn’t he?” 

 “I think so. I haven’t Googled it. But yeah, he’s hot. Those blue eyes! And when he’s out on location and the wind is blowing? It does things to his hair. Eye candy is definitely part of the appeal.” Krissy grinned. 

 “He definitely makes history interesting. And that’s not easy,” Alex agreed, laughing. 

Dean looked up from the front desk, giving up pretending he wasn’t listening. “What show are you two talking about?” 

 “It’s this PBS show, about art and architecture and how it was both influenced by and influenced history and the culture of the time when it was created. It’s kind of hard to explain, but it’s good. He travels all over the place. Europe, Asia, South America… and he talks about how certain symbols and themes appear in really different places but yet there are commonalities that speak to universal aspects of the human experience.” 

Dean smiled crookedly. “That reminds me of a guy I knew way back when. History major, but he was interested in that sort of cross-discipline thing, too. How the events of the time were reflected in the styles of art and architecture and slowly evolved, and when they changed drastically due to contact with other cultures. He was really into it.” 

 “If you like that kind of stuff you should watch it, Mr. W,” Krissy said. “It’s on tonight. ‘Connections with Castiel.’” 

Dean’s vision whited out and his shoulders tightened. With Castiel? Castiel? 

How many people could there possibly be named Castiel? Especially Castiels that were also history nerds? 

Dean readied his machete, and the pistol he’d managed to salvage from the wreckage, and then went about drawing up the points of another Diamond of Protection. 

It wasn’t much later that his assailants emerged from the trees, and Dean swore. 

Hellhounds. 

Semi-invisible monsters aligned with fire, hellhounds were perfect pursuit predators that enjoyed hunting in packs. Once they got someone’s scent, they would follow it until they either died or caught them. The only things they were weak to were water, salt, and enchanted weaponry. 

Dean sent up a prayer. 

And then out of nowhere, a naked man appeared. Dropped down from the sky, more like. 

Dean felt his jaw fall open. 

Before his eyes, the unarmed man began to attack the hellhounds using powerful air magic. One hound was sent hurtling back nearly 40 feet before it hit a tree and fell to the ground. Another leapt to attack the strange man, only to be impaled on an invisible blade of some sort – tightly compressed air, Dean guessed. 

The man, his face drawn back in a silent snarl, sent another bolt of lightning straight into the chest of the leader hound, who yowled, before turning tail and running. Her packmates followed, and very quickly, Dean was left alone with the strange man. 

The man – still buck naked, of all things – turned to face Dean with a smile. 

** 

Castiel leapt into action, landing in the middle of the fight, and immediately sending one hound flying into a tree. 

The fight didn’t last long. The hounds, as lesser elementals, were intimidated by Castiel’s obvious superiority. They ran away, to hide in the undergrowth. 

Castiel turned to Dean with a smile. Dean was watching him, eyes wide and cautious. 

“Hey, uh, thanks for the assist. What’s your name?” 

“I am called Castiel,” he responded. 

Dean frowned, shifting on the spot. 

“Uh, you don’t happen to speak Common, do you?” 

Ah, that was right. He had no human voice. 

Castiel grimaced, gesturing to his throat before shaking his head. Dean smiled, and began making a hand gestures following a specific pattern. Apparently it was some form of communication, and Castiel watched carefully, but he couldn’t make any sense of the gestures. He shrugged in frustration. 

“Guess you don’t know signing either,” Dean sighed. “Look, buddy, I’m glad for your help, but fighting off a few hellhounds on my behalf isn’t gonna cut it. I won’t trust you or take down my wards without an Ally’s Oath.” 

Castiel nodded. The spell would only take if they both intended no harm to the other. Dean relaxed nearly instantly as the spell was complete. 

“Awesome. Let’s go then,” Dean said, scuffing up one of the runes to dispel the wards. Dean paused, and his eyes flicked down Castiel’s body for a second, before he began looking at the sky, his cheeks a light pink. “Uh, do you have any clothing?” 

Castiel stared at Dean in confusion. Clothes?