Two years ago, Dean walked away from Castiel after discovering his biggest secret—that he’s a witch. Since then, Dean’s spent his days hunting alone, filling the emptiness inside with sex, booze, and the next case.
When he gets a desperate call for help from Castiel, Dean doesn’t hesitate to go. But things in the small Maine town aren’t what they seem, especially when he comes face to face with Castiel, who insists he wasn’t the one to place the call.
Dean’s been given an opportunity to fix his past mistakes, but it means working alongside a very bitter Castiel, and Benny, a local deputy with knowledge of the supernatural, to figure out what’s plaguing Newport and why it all seems fixated around Castiel.
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Cas lets the anger dissipate from his face and points towards the tiny kitchen table. “Your clothes are over there. I washed your shirt and jacket late last night. You’ll need someone to stitch your shirt up for you though.”
Dean remembers he’s shirtless and, for both his and Cas’ sake, goes and puts them on. He doesn’t have to turn to feel Cas following his every move, and he wishes more than ever that things weren’t like this between them.
“So, that spell or whatever you just did… didn’t sound like typical Latin,” he says, hoping to fill the silence that’s crept between them.
“It’s Sumerian,” Cas answers simply. “Your wounds were so severe that the healing spells I would normally use would have been ineffective in treating them. I had to use something stronger.”
Dean makes a noise of agreement and nods. He’s clearly lingering, but Cas is the one who called him out of the blue, so he figures Cas should be the one to finally break down and tell him what’s going on.
“Dean… why are you here?”
That wasn’t what he was expecting to hear.
“Come again?” Dean asks.
“Dean, we haven’t spoken in over two years. Then, out of the blue, you show up at my place of work nearly bleeding to death with Benny begging me to save you.” A pained look crosses Cas’ expression again briefly, and Dean is taken back to that night two years ago, wondering how Cas must feel experiencing the same thing all over again. “I don’t know how you found this town, or found me, for that matter, but I have a right to know why you’re here.”
There’s anger seething underneath the surface of his skin. He didn’t just drive all the way to Maine for Cas to act like this.
“The hell are you talking about, Cas? You’re the one who called me!” He feels his fists clench tight and his body go rigid with anger. “You called me up, scared the hell outta me yelling about some monster, and then I drove all the way over here just to get attacked by whatever the hell that thing was!” To further prove his point, Dean whips his phone out and pulls up the text message from Cas. “Look, this is from you!”
Dean sees it. A brief flicker of shock and confusion in Cas’ eyes. Cas hides it quickly and tilts his head while keeping his expression impassive and even. “Dean, that’s not my phone number.”
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