She didn’t know Cas was an angel the first time they met.  The blurry face above her in the Physics library could have been anyone, and even as it came into focus all she really thought was, It’s always a girl.

There was an unspoken pact among university couch surfers: leave a note on your bag or the back of your couch and someone would wake you up if they noticed the time.  Today Dean’s said, Plz wake up at 1:45, and that was pushing it.  She had to be in Munroe Hall by 2:10.  It was a seven minute walk, plus two minutes to hit the bathroom and three more if she stopped for coffee on the way.

The first thing the face above her said was, “I believe your desired wake-up time has passed.”

Dean bolted upright.  Her watch had been a victim of the breakup and her phone was dead.  She wasn’t even sure when she’d last eaten, let alone what time it was now.

“It’s 1:47,” the girl with the messy hair continued, and Dean relaxed a little.  She could afford to miss Epigraphy.  She couldn’t afford to miss meeting Sam outside Munroe right after Epigraphy.

“Thanks,” Dean muttered, knocking her “wake up” note to the floor as she reached for her bag.  It was always a girl.  Girls woke up girls sleeping in lounges or libraries, and guys woke up guys.  She didn’t know why.

“That’s an unusual necklace you’re wearing,” the girl observed.

Dean’s hand went to her collar, like she didn’t know what she had on.  The protective amulet Sam had given her when they were kids.  “Yeah,” she said, because it was.  “It’s, uh…”

But she had nothing.  She wasn’t awake enough for this.  “Sorry,” Dean said with a sigh.  “Bad day.  Can’t talk.”

“Perhaps some coffee?”  The girl looked uncertain, and Dean didn’t know why it made her smile but she felt the corner of her mouth quirk up.  The girl was holding onto the straps of her backpack, one hooked over each shoulder like a kid, or a hiker, and she talked like a professor.

“Yeah,” Dean repeated.  “I think you read my mind.  You want?  Buy you a cup for waking me up.”

“Yes, thank you.”  She didn’t hesitate, and Dean blinked.  She couldn’t remember anyone ever accepting.

Of course, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d offered, either.

“Right.”  She swung her bag over her shoulder, crumpling up the note and stuffing it into her jacket pocket.  “I’ve got a two o’clock, so let’s go.”

“You don’t usually sleep here.”  The girl dogged her footsteps without protest as Dean pushed her way through the little branch library and out the back of the building.  It was the closest couch to Munroe, that was all.

“Don’t usually have a screaming fight with my boyfriend and walk out at three in the morning, either.”  She didn’t know why she said it, and she kind of wished she cared enough to take it back.  All of it.  But she didn’t.

“Did you?”  The girl sounded nothing more than curious.  Dean suddenly wondered what she’d been doing in the Physics library.  In her experience, science majors weren’t usually so chatty.

“Let’s just say I’m officially living out of my car,” Dean said.  “And it’s a long way back to the satellite lot between classes.”

The line at the coffee cart wasn’t bad this time of day.  It was a warm September afternoon, bright and still summery as far as the coeds and their shorts were concerned.  Too perfect for the funk Dean was trying to maintain.  She should have changed her note to 2:45.

“I’m looking for a roommate,” the girl said.

“Yeah?”  That was weird.  Or lucky?  Hey, even three weeks into the semester someonehad to be looking.  Dean was.  “Apartment?”

“Shared housing.”  They shuffled out of the way of backpacks and drinks, moving steadily up the coffee line.  “Two hundred dollars a month, the room you share with me, the bathroom we share with the floor.  There’s a chore list.  And a kitchen,” she added.

There was a chore list.  “Sorority?” Dean asked.

The girl hesitated.  “We are a sisterhood, yes.  We are not recognized by the university as such.”

A banned sorority.  Great.  “I’m not gonna rush,” Dean warned her.

“There’s no deadline.”

It was a non sequitur that distracted Dean from the line just long enough for the other girl to step up and order her coffee first.  There’s no deadline, she said.  So Dean didn’t have to rush?  Funny.

Dean paid, checking her watch as they moved away with their coffees.  “Okay,” she said.  Because it was just that kind of day.  “Give me your number; I can stop by after class to check it out.  If you’re around.”

“After four,” the girl said.  “I have a lab at three.”

It was a local number, not a cell, but it didn’t start with the campus exchange.  They had a house in town, then.  Maybe with parking.  Could be worse.

One roommate for two hundred bucks a month, Dean thought?  Could be a lot worse.

“Hey,” she said, turning back before she could even really leave.  “I’m Dean.  Nice to meet you.”

“Cassie,” the girl replied.  “I too am pleased we met.”

“Cassie?” Dean repeated, squinting at her.  She definitely should have slept longer, because the next words out of her mouth were, “You don’t look like a Cassie.”

She tilted her head, apparently as surprised as Dean was that she’d said it.  “My given name is Castiel,” she offered after a moment.

Dean couldn’t help smiling, because yeah.  “That I believe,” she said, lifting her coffee cup in a mock salute.  “Catch you later, Cas.”

The girl named Castiel looked at her cup before echoing the gesture, and Dean wondered how old she was.  She seemed too confident for a freshman and too awkward to be a senior.  Could she really just invite someone to join her non-sorority at random?  Dean wasn’t an expert, but she thought there was supposed to be some kind of ritual or something.

Sam would laugh herself silly if Dean accidentally joined a sorority.  On the other hand, so would Nick.  Right now that didn’t seem like a bad thing.

She wanted her watch back.

Her sister was waiting for her on the steps of the language building at three o’clock.  There was a duffel bag at her feet, which meant that Dean would at least have a change of clothes for tomorrow.  If she got really lucky and Castiel wasn’t crazy, she might even have a place to sleep.

“Hey,” Sam called, waving like she wasn’t ten feet tall and the most visible person for miles.  “Dean!”

Dean lifted a hand.  She already regretted her empty coffee cup.  “Hey,” she mumbled, slouching up against the column beside Sam.  If she thought she could get out of this without talking, she’d grab the bag and go.

“Brought a charger for your phone,” Sam said.  “Mel had an old one that should work.”

As far as she could tell, Sam knew every single person on campus.  What she didn’t know was whether they all owed her, or if she just smiled prettily enough that they gave her whatever she wanted.  It would be disgusting, Dean thought, except that half the time Sam was using it to get something for her.

“Thanks,” she muttered.  Because there really wasn't any other answer.

“You want to talk about it?” Sam asked.

Dean glared at her.  “Name one thing that would make me say yes.”

Sam held up her hands in surrender.  “You want to get something to eat?”

“I’m fine, Sam.”

“What did you have for lunch?” Sam countered.

“Slept through lunch,” Dean said.  “It was a long night; sue me.”

“Breakfast,” Sam said.

“Not a real meal,” Dean said.  “Are we done?”

“At least let me buy you dessert or something.”  Sam had picked up the duffel, which Dean was pretty sure meant she didn’t get it unless she agreed to minimal terms.  “Ice cream.  Pie.  Pie with ice cream, whatever.  Didn’t anyone tell you that breaking up means you get to eat breakup food?”

“I have to go meet someone about a room,” Dean informed her.  “Someone who doesn’t want me to talk about my stupid ex-boyfriend.”

“Someone who brought you clothes?” Sam asked, hefting the bag pointedly.  “When are you meeting them?”

“Soon,” Dean said.

Sam knew evasion when she saw it.  She should; she’d known Dean all her life.  “We’re eating,” she said, swinging the duffel bag over her own backpack as she started toward the Student Union Building.  “Come on.”

They were still in the food court an hour later, because Sam kept her promise to pay and Dean wasn’t above making her sorry.  When the clock at the far end ticked over to four, Dean didn’t say anything.  Labs were… lab-y, right?  Messy?  Required clean-up?  She didn’t know.

At 4:15, she held out her hand to Sam.  “Gimme your phone.”

Sam gave her a curious look, but she passed over her phone without question.

The number Castiel had given her only rang once.  Which would seem weird later, because what did she do, go straight home to wait for Dean to call?  Right now, Dean was just relieved that someone picked up.

She was less excited when she got directions.

“Wait, the Lighthouse?” Dean blurted out.  Not a sorority after all, but the student church group.  “You live in the Lighthouse?”

“Yes,” Castiel’s voice replied.  “You would be required to sign a code of conduct before moving in.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna work,” Dean said.  “I’m not religious.”

“You don’t have to be,” Castiel said.  “The code only requires that you behave in a manner consistent with our principles.”

“Which are?” Dean said, glaring at Sam for the amusement on her face.

“No drugs or alcohol on the premises,” Castiel replied.  “No sex or overnight guests in residents’ rooms.  A certain level of politeness and decorum in public areas, and participation in weekly chores.”

Dean waited, but there wasn’t anything about Sunday service or volunteering with orphans.  “And?” she said at last.  “How long’s the lease?”

“Many residents rent on a month-by-month basis,” Castiel said.  “There is an option to pay by the semester and receive a discount, but it would be more cost-effective in your case to accept a prorated September fee.”

“Uh-huh,” Dean said.  “Look, Cas –”  Sam was making the sign of the cross in her direction.  Dean batted her hand away.  “I appreciate the offer, okay?  But I don’t think it’s gonna work.”

“I think you should stop by before you decide.”  Castiel’s voice was firm.  “You have nowhere to sleep tonight, and September’s almost over.  You could at least move out of your car for a week and find somewhere else to stay next month.”

Who wanted a roommate for a week?  Who invited a stranger to move in for no reason?

Maybe a do-gooder Christian girl, Dean thought with a sigh.  The real question was, who was she to say no?  This wasn’t exactly her best week.  She loved her car, but she didn’t want to sleep in it.  And Sam would call Mom if she did, which meant she’d have both of them lecturing her.

“Okay,” she said.  “You got time for me to come over now?”

“Yes,” Castiel said.  And that was all.

Dean tried again.  “Where are you?  How do I find you?”

Sam had her hands together, praying silently at Dean across their table.  You suck, Dean mouthed at her. Sam just grinned.

“Room seven,” Castiel was saying.  “It’s the first room to your right at the top of the stairs.  But I’ll meet you in the common area downstairs.”

Right.  Because they wouldn’t want people wandering around God’s house unsupervised.  “Sure,” Dean said.  She might as well go.  If they were creepy fundamentalists, they weren’t going to let her in anyway.  “Give me ten minutes.”

“I will,” Castiel said.  Which was a weird thing to say, but hey.  That was her life.

Dean looked down in surprise when the phone disconnected.  “I think I just got hung up on,” she said.

“God doesn’t say goodbye, Dean,” Sam teased.

“Oh, since when are you such a smartass.”  Dean slid the phone across the table to her.  “I thought you were all about God and prayer and stuff.”

“There’s other uses for a rosary than making holy water,” Sam said.  “Doesn’t mean the people who know it aren’t crazy.”

“Explains you,” Dean agreed, shoving her dishes in Sam’s direction too.  “You want to get this?  I gotta go meet the crazies.”

“Don’t call them crazy to their faces,” Sam told her.  “Don’t swear.  And don’t exorcise anything in public if you can help it.”

Dean paused with her bag over her shoulder and the duffel in hand to stare at her.  “Wait – you think this is a good idea?”

Sam smirked at her.  “Ten bucks says you don’t last a day.”

“Twenty,” Dean retorted.  “I’m there a week.”

“Easy money,” Sam said cheerfully.  “Have fun meeting your new roommate!”

Dean didn’t flip her off because Sam would tell her it was socially repressive, degrading to women and gay people and probably tiny kittens, too.  She also didn’t do it because it was good practice, not that she would ever admit it: if she was going to make it a week with good little Christian Castiel, there was more than one habit she could stand to lose.  Temporarily.

Just like any other undercover gig, she told herself.  Pretend to be a good girl.  She could do that.

She’d never been in the building called the Lighthouse before, but she’d passed it plenty of times.  It was just off-campus, so close no one was really sure where the line was, and stepping through the front door was weird.  It felt like a campus building.

Well.  It felt like a house that had been turned into a campus building.

The “common area” was pretty obviously the big room on the right, past the directory and before the stairs.  There wasn’t a single cross, and if the Bibles were out she didn’t see them.  She found Castiel with two other girls, one watching TV, the other working on a laptop.  Castiel was just standing there, looking pretty much the way Dean envisioned her in the Physics library: like she was waiting for something to happen.

“Hey,” Dean said, shifting her extra bag awkwardly.  “Thanks for the, uh.  Directions.”

Castiel tilted her head in acknowledgment, but it took her a second to come out with, “You’re welcome.”

And that was all, which was kind of… unhelpful.

“So,” Dean said.  She looked around again.  The girl watching TV had turned around to watch them instead, so she managed not to comment on the lack of Bibles.  “Seems like a nice place.”

“Oh, hey.”  The TV girl interrupted before their conversation could actually start going backwards.  “Are you Cassie’s new roommate?  I’m Lenore.”

Dean gave her a half-wave, because who knew how you were supposed to greet religious kids?  Did they shake hands?  “Dean,” she said.  “We’re still discussing the roommate thing.”

The girl with the laptop had looked up now too, and her stare was more frank.  “You should move in,” she said.  “You’re way less creepy than the other girl who’s trying to get Cassie’s room.”

Dean raised her eyebrows, glancing at Cas first and then back at the girl with the laptop.  “Okay,” she said.  That would explain a few things.  “Thanks.  I think.”

“She’s not creepy,” Lenore said.  “Just, you know.  A little intense.”

Really, Dean thought.

“Would you like to see the room?” Castiel asked abruptly.

“And the rest of the building?” Lenore added.  “We can give you a tour.”

“There’s cookies in the kitchen,” the other girl said, her eyes back on her laptop.  “You should have some.  They might convince you.”

Lenore smiled at that, so Dean figured there was at least one normal person here.  She kind of liked the girl with the laptop, though.  “Sure,” she said aloud.  “Bring on the tour.  And the snacks.”

“Don’t forget the snacks,” Laptop Girl agreed.  She might not be looking at them, but she obviously had her priorities straight.

Lenore offered to carry one of Dean’s bags, which she refused, but it did cement Lenore’s place as the friendly one.  Castiel was quieter upstairs than she’d been in the library, despite the fact that it was her room, and when Dean found herself chatting with Lenore instead she felt a little guilty.  Castiel didn’t seem like she talked to people easily, and it wasn’t lost on Dean that neither Lenore nor Laptop Girl had addressed her directly.

“So,” Dean said, while Lenore peered at the parking lot through the window and Castiel stood awkwardly by the door.  “How long have you guys lived here?”

“Twenty-one days,” Castiel said.

“Cassie just moved in,” Lenore told her, turning away from the window.  “I lived here last year, too.  It’s a really nice environment.”

“Yeah,” Dean said.  She tried to ignore the excited chatter from the stairs, wondering if they were this blatantly girly all the time.  “I can see that.”

Castiel moved suddenly, out of the door and deeper into the room.  Folding her arms, she stared straight ahead, and Dean saw Lenore glance out into the hall.  The voice from the stairs was coming toward them, Dean realized.

“And it looks like she’s here now,” someone was saying.  “Which is wonderful timing!  Cassie’s hardly ever here when I come by, but – oh look!  You have visitors!”

Dean looked back at Castiel as two other girls crowded into the doorway.  Castiel afforded them a brief acknowledgment: a flick of her eyes, really.  Her personality wasn’t exactly effusive, but it was clear that she had less than her usual level of tolerance when it came to Enthusiastic Girl and her friend.

“Hi Becky,” Lenore said with a smile.  “This is Cassie’s friend Dean.  She’s thinking about moving into the Lighthouse.  Aren’t you, Dean?”

“Oh, Dean!” Becky exclaimed.  “What a fun name!  Is that short for something?”

“Uh, yeah,” Dean said, eyeing her.  “It’s short for ‘Call me Dean.’”

Becky laughed, and Dean wondered if she was one of those people who pretended not to understand things so she didn’t have to get upset.  “All righty then!” she said.  “Nice to meet you, Dean!  I’m Becky, and this is Meg.  She’s thinking about moving in too!”

Out of the corner of her eye, Dean saw Castiel shift, and when she looked she found Cas looking back.  She’s thinking about moving in too.  Becky was annoyingly cheerful but she couldn’t really warrant backing away from the door and staring at the wall.  And Lenore – the friendly one – hadn’t said hi to Meg.

“Hey,” Dean said, lifting her chin in Becky’s direction.  “Nice to meet you too.  You live here?”

“Oh yes,” Becky said.  “I’m part of the elected leadership!”

“Huh,” Dean said.  Because she wasn’t stupid, and she did need a place to stay.  “I guess you represent me, then.  Cas asked me to be her roommate.”

“She did?”  Becky looked surprised, but then she clapped her hands and beamed.  “Well, that’s wonderful!  I mean, it’s too bad that there was only one open space when you and Meg were both looking, but obviously the preference of the residents is really important to a harmonious room.”

“Oh, definitely.”  The girl she’d introduced as Meg sounded totally polite and looked sincere when she smiled.  “I would never want to come between friends.”

Dean thought “friends” was stretching it, but Castiel was still staring at her and it didn’t take a genius to see what was happening.  She didn’t know what they had against Meg, but apparently it was bad enough that a stranger off the street was better.  It wasn’t like Dean got nothing out of the deal.

So she smiled back, because Meg didn’t look outright evil or anything, and said, “Sorry about the timing.  And thanks for understanding.”

“Dean’s need is very great,” Castiel interrupted.

Dean kind of understood why she didn’t say much in regular conversation.

“I’m sure,” Meg was saying.  And, okay, that was a weird response all on its own, but whatever.  Religious people were strange.

“Keep me posted,” she added, nudging Becky with her shoulder.  “I’m still interested, if something opens up later.”

“Oh, of course!” Becky exclaimed.  “We sometimes have turnover during the fall.  And you should definitely check back before next semester, because Meredith is graduating in December so she won’t be here in the spring.”

“I will,” Meg agreed.  “Thanks, Becky.  Thanks, everyone, for being so welcoming.  I hope I see you again soon.”

“Good luck with everything,” Lenore offered.

Cas obviously wasn’t going to say anything, so Dean repeated, “Nice to meet you,” and then Meg was walking away with Becky.  No one said anything while the sound of Becky’s voice traveled down the stairs, but Lenore gave Dean a smile in the silence.  

Yeah, don’t get your hopes up, Dean thought.  You don’t know me either.

Dean glanced at Castiel, who was apparently watching them go.

Except not, because when she followed that gaze she found another girl in the doorway.  Ninja Girl had straight blonde hair, a serious expression, and seemed to like to stare meaningfully at Castiel.  Only when Castiel nodded did she look at Dean or Lenore, and then just to say, “Hello.”

“Hi,” Lenore said.  “Rachel, do you know Dean?  I think she’s planning to move in with Cassie.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, lifting a hand.  “Hey.  Nice to meet you, Rachel.”

“I assume Castiel invited you,” Rachel said.  She was the first person other than Cas herself whom Dean had heard use Castiel’s actual name.

“Yes,” Castiel said, but Dean was ready for that one.

“Yeah,” she agreed.  “I think she just felt sorry for me when she found me sleeping in the Physics Library, but I’ll take it.”

“Oh, are you a science major too?” Lenore asked.

“Sorry,” Dean said, with as much charm as she could manage.  If she was gonna do this, she was gonna do it all the way.  “The important part there was ‘sleeping,’ not ‘physics.’  I’m a Classics major.”

“I’m Humanities!”  Lenore smiled at her.  “Are you doing Latin, or Greek?”

“Latin,” Dean said.  “All the interesting books are in Latin.”

“Right?” Lenore agreed.  “Plus the roots are so useful for other languages.  Cassie knows some Latin too; she was helping me with it the other day.”

“That’s cool,” Dean said, glancing at Castiel.  She was still staring at Rachel, which was kind of obvious.  But hey, if she wanted to live in a religious building and be gay with the girl down the hall, that was her business.  “What are you guys studying?”

Rachel looked away first.  “Math,” she said.  She smiled, for the first time since Dean had seen her, and it didn’t look completely fake.  It did look sort of speculative.

“Physics,” Castiel added.

“Senior?” Dean asked, because how many freshman lived off campus?

Castiel nodded.  “I’m a recent transfer,” she said.  It was as much information as she’d volunteered about herself since she’d said she was looking for a roommate, and Dean thought it might explain why she acted a little out of place.

“Junior,” Rachel said.  Her smile had faded, but the assessing look was still there.

“Me too,” Lenore agreed.  “Becky’s a sophomore.  Jesse’s kind of… in between.  You met her downstairs,” she added, when Dean frowned.  “She took some college classes in high school, so credit-wise she’ll be a sophomore in the spring.  But this is her first year.”

Dean nodded, and it was Rachel who said, “Dean, do you need any help moving things in?”

“Uh,” Dean said.  That was going to be a mess no matter what she did.  “I’m not really at that stage, yet.”  When Rachel raised her eyebrows, Dean said, “I haven’t actually moved out of my old place.”

“Dean broke up with her boyfriend last night,” Castiel said.

Dean tried not to glare at her, but it was a losing battle.  “Thanks for spreading that around.”

Castiel just looked puzzled.  “Are you upset?  You shared it with me very freely.”

“I was mostly asleep when I was talking to you,” Dean said.  “Nothing someone says within five minutes of waking up should count.”

“We won’t tell anyone else if you don’t want us to,” Lenore promised.  “Can we help you get your stuff?”

“Dean!” Becky’s voice called.  The sound of her on the stairs was muffled, but Dean noticed that Castiel didn’t look as stiff this time.  Becky appeared in the doorway a moment later, leaning around the frame next to Rachel.  Meg wasn’t with her.

“I just wanted to say welcome to the Lighthouse,” Becky continued, smiling brightly at them.  “We’re glad you’re here!  Do you need any paperwork, or are you all set with that?”

“Probably?” Dean said, glancing at Castiel.

“Dean has not filled out any paperwork,” Castiel said.  “She’ll need both the room agreement and the contract.”

“Thanks,” Dean added, since Castiel didn’t seem likely to.  “Cas said I could pay month by month?”

“Oh, yes,” Becky agreed.  “Rent is due halfway through the month, so we’ll probably just add a week to next month, if that’s okay with you.  Let me go get you some stuff to fill out.”

She was gone before Dean could ask what happened if she only stayed a week.  Looking at Cas, she thought maybe she should wait on that one.  Meg probably wanted to stay the whole semester.  Priority for the room would go to her, right?

“Where are you moving from?” Lenore asked.  “Is it close by?”

“Yeah,” Dean said.  Which kind of hurt, because she’d found that apartment.  “It’s downtown.”  She wasn’t looking forward to going back.  If she was lucky, Nick would be out drowning his sorrows and she wouldn’t see him at all.

“Great,” Lenore said.  “So we can go with you.  Do you have a car?  Jesse has one we can use if you don’t have any serious furniture.”

“I’ve got a car,” Dean said.  “And you guys really don’t want to help; it’s gonna be bad even if he’s not there.  My stuff’s all over the place.”

Eventually it would occur to her that implying she might be in trouble, even accidentally, was not the way to get good Christian girls to leave her alone.  Nothing she could say would deter Lenore after that.  Lenore took it as a given that Cas was coming, and apparently wherever Cas went, Rachel went too.  Of course.

They only waited long enough for Becky to come back with the paperwork.  Not long enough for Dean to fill it out – Becky said as long as she handed it in before Friday it was fine – and barely long enough for Dean to call Sam and say she was moving.  Now.  If she wanted to help, she’d better meet them at the apartment in ten minutes.

Sam said she was on her way, which was good, because the way this was going Dean might need someone to run interference.  The pagan stuff wasn’t going to go over well with this crowd, and if they knew Latin then she had books they were going to look at funny.  She had a lot of rosaries for someone who didn’t know how to pray them.

On the other hand, she and Nick probably weren’t going to scream at each other in front of an audience, so there was that.

There was also the fact that Sam was hilariously surprised when Dean showed up at the apartment in a Jetta.  With four other girls.  “So,” Sam said under her breath, grinning at their collective efforts to find change for the meter and decide whether or not they should lock the doors.  “This is fast.”

“Tell you later,” Dean muttered.  “They heard I hadn’t moved out and they just… volunteered.”

“Well, that’s good,” Sam said, in a more normal tone of voice.  Castiel was looking at them.  “Probably better not to be alone with Nick right now.”

“Yeah.”  Dean figured the danger was more to Nick than it was to her, but she might as well not create witnesses by saying it.  “This is, uh, Cas, and Rachel.  That’s Lenore.  And Jesse owns the car.  Guys, this is my sister, Sam.”

“Hey,” Sam said, waving a little.  “You’re all here to help Dean move?”

“It’ll go faster with more people,” Lenore said.  “Plus we can be moral support.”

Sam gave Dean a look that said she was thinking witnesses too.  Not to mention, What are you gonna do with all that stuff Nick thinks is prop replicas and fan merch?  She could probably sell the “it’s for a show” story again, but she didn’t think the Lighthouse girls would find it cute or funny.

“I’m really not packed.”  Dean tried one more time, even though she knew it was too late now.  “I just walked out.  Nothing’s ready to go.”

“Doesn’t have to be,” Rachel said.  “You’re just going across town.”

“Just dump things in boxes,” Jesse said.  “If you don’t pack it, you won’t have to unpack it later.”

Dean had to admit there was a certain childlike logic to that.  And the whole thing seemed less daunting when she had to use her key to get into the apartment: empty.  No one was there.  It would make sorting her stuff a thousand times easier.

Lenore and Sam had brought boxes.  Dean had crates.  She’d never actually yanked open dresser drawers and just swept everything into a box before.  It was weird enough that it distracted her from the finality of it, from the thought that she was leaving a place she’d expected to be until she graduated – maybe longer.

Then Rachel got the idea to split the clothes between boxes so they could put electronics in with them, cushioning them without having to wrap them in anything else.  Cas carried things out to the car: left unlocked, with Jesse’s blessing.  Sam loaded her books into crates, which Dean appreciated because it kept the other girls away from them, and Lenore and Jesse wandered around the apartment, yelling questions about places Dean might have forgotten to look.

“Dean, what about the fridge?” Lenore called.  “How much of this stuff is yours?”

“Do we even have a fridge at the Lighthouse?” Dean asked.  “Maybe I should just leave it.”

“There’s a whole kitchen,” Jesse said.  “You didn’t see it?  You didn’t even get any of those cookies, did you.”

“Our tour got interrupted,” Lenore told her, loudly enough that Dean could hear.

“Dean,” Sam said, from where she was propping the door open for Rachel.  They were both carrying crates of books.  “Back in a sec.”

Dean waved her off, ignoring the argument in the kitchen, and she didn’t know how she forgot about Cas.  For a moment she thought she was alone, and the duffel bag of weaponry and ritual components clanked as she pulled it out.  The one thing she did keep packed, since she usually needed it anywhere but at home.

“May I carry that for you?” Castiel’s voice asked.

Dean closed her eyes, because damn it.  The girl was fast and curious and Dean should have waited for Sam.  “Nah,” she said, as lightly as she could.  “I got it.”

She turned, expression as casual as she could make it while she was holding a bag of candles, chalk, knives, and an actual sword.  “I’ve got towels in the bathroom, the blue ones – you mind grabbing those?  There should be a laundry bag with my name on it on one of the shelves.”

“You must have toiletries,” Castiel said.  “You could collect them while I take your bag out to the car.”

“Cas, I’ve got it.”  She didn’t feel like being a crazy fan right now.  “I’ll be right back.”

“Are any of the dish towels yours?” Lenore asked, leaning around the doorway.  “Because we could use them to wrap kitchen stuff if you want any of it.  Hey, want me to get that bag?” she added, coming forward and holding out her hand.  “You can go see for yourself.”

“No,” Dean said sharply.  “I can carry my own bag, okay?  I don’t even need any of that stuff; I think I can buy new jam.”

“Okay,” Lenore said.  She nodded like that was perfectly reasonable.  “Okay, you want to go?  We’ll clear out so you can lock the door, or you can leave the key with us and we’ll do it.”

Dean’s fingers were white on the shoulder strap of her duffel bag.  She took a deep breath and counted to maybe two and a half.  “Sorry.”  She hoped the apology didn’t sound as forced as it felt.  “I’m just a little... this is hard.”

“Totally,” Lenore said.  “We’re done whenever you are.”

“Hey!” Sam’s voice called from the direction of the door.  “Trunk’s full; we’re starting on the back seat.  How many people are walking back?”

“All of us!” Lenore called back.  “Except Dean and Jesse!”

“You said you have a car,” Castiel said quietly.  “Do you want to move it?”

“Yeah,” Dean muttered.  “I can pull it up outside and give you guys a ride.”

“Great,” Sam said, striding across the room and yanking Dean’s bag away from her.  It clanked again as she swung it over her shoulder and she didn’t bat an eye.  “Got all your exercise stuff in here?  Did you get your things from the bathroom?  What about the front closet?”

“Can I carry anything else?” Rachel asked.

“No,” Sam said, before Dean could answer.  “I think we’re good.  It’s just little stuff, unless Dean’s planning to take the stereo.”

Dean gritted her teeth at the reminder, because she loved their sound system.  She’d put a lot of work into setting it up.  But.

“Can’t,” she grumbled.  “We went halves on it.  Not mine to take.”

“Or his to keep,” Sam pointed out.

“It’s half yours,” Rachel agreed.

“I’m already sticking him with the lease,” Dean muttered.  “He can keep the stereo.”  Nick would get the better end of the deal, as far as she was concerned.

“Okay,” Sam said.  “So get your stuff from the bathroom and give it to Cas.  Check the front closet and the kitchen and send Jesse down when you’re done.  I’ll ride back with her and start carrying stuff in while you get your car.”

For all that Sam usually made things harder than they had to be, this didn’t turn out to be as easy as it sounded.  They were out of boxes, and it didn’t all fit in the laundry bag.  By the time Sam came back to see what was keeping Jesse, Dean was ready to throw them all out and break something.  Not because it would make her feel better, but because it was something she could do.

“Dean,” Sam said firmly.  “Leave.  Go get your car.  Cas, go with her; she likes you.  Jesse, you mind taking Rachel back and unloading things at the Lighthouse?”

Jesse and Rachel were all too happy to escape.  “Dean,” Sam repeated, when it was just the three of them and Lenore.

The two of them, Dean thought.  Plus Lenore and Cas.  Cas wasn’t one of them, she wasn’t family, she wasn’t even a friend.  Where did Sam get “she likes you” after watching them together for half an hour?

“Me and Lenore will go through the kitchen,” Sam was saying.  “You get the car and we’ll meet you out front in a few minutes, okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” Dean said with a sigh.  She was acting like a brat and she knew it.  But this had been her place, it was going to be her home, and now she might as well be back to living in the dorms with children.

Polite, surprisingly helpful children, to be sure.  But this wasn’t – 

“Go,” Sam said sternly.

She felt a tentative hand on her shoulder.  It was Cas.  Of course it was Cas, easing her carefully toward the door.  Like taking care of each other was a thing that they did.

Dean thought she was doing well to check for her keys before the door closed behind them.

The car, at least, was familiar.  By the time they got back Sam and Lenore were waiting outside, as promised.  Lenore said it was probably fine to leave it in one of the Lighthouse spaces, and Dean didn’t like the “probably” but geez, they’d helped her clear out her apartment.  Jesse’s Jetta was empty, and the first thing Rachel asked when they all trooped up the stairs was, “Are we going to dinner?”

Like it was normal to spend every waking moment together.  Like this was just what they did.  Cas was still hovering, there were six people in a tiny room, and suddenly it was all too suffocating.

“Yeah, I can’t,” Dean blurted out.

Except now Lenore looked worried, Jesse looked curious, and Castiel was looking away.  What had she gotten herself into?  And how long would Sam be around to rescue her?

Because she did, of course.  Sam said, “We just ate,” apologetically enough to make it sound like a real meal instead of one dessert after another.  And then she added, “Dean didn’t actually sleep last night, so maybe now isn’t the best time?”

“I just need a few minutes,” Dean muttered, because Sam shouldn’t have to do it all on her own.  Dean was the one who was falling apart; she should be able to handle her own excuses.

Apparently those were the magic words.  The room cleared as fast as they could shut the door.  Dean couldn’t tell if they were relieved or creeped out or just obnoxiously nice, and right now?  She didn’t care.  The bed that wasn’t Castiel’s had sheets and a blanket on it, and she didn’t know why but she wasn’t complaining.

“When did you make the bed?” Sam asked, as Dean buried her face in the pillow and ignored the smell of laundry detergent.

“Didn’t,” she mumbled.  “I’ll wash ’em tomorrow.”

The bed was the best thing she’d felt all day.  She thought she’d get back to the room in a minute, at least move her boxes out of Castiel’s way.  She’d just lie here for a second and get her second wind.  Or her fifth.  But who was counting?

“Hey,” Sam said quietly, some number of minutes later.  “Your phone’s charging, and I got your clock out.  What time do you need to be up tomorrow?”

“Never,” she told the pillow.  Or she tried to.  She wasn’t sure it came out coherently, but whatever.  Like Sam thrived on coherency.

“Right.”  There was an annoying clicking sound that she didn’t bother to listen to.

The next thing she knew, Sam’s warm hand was on her ankle and she was being shaken gently.  “You want to change?” Sam’s voice asked.  Apparently her eyes weren’t open.  Or her face was still turned into the pillow.  Could be both.  “Take off your shoes at least?”

“Yeah, okay, whatever,” Dean muttered.  She was fairly sure this time it came out more clearly, even if the world made no sense when she tried to sit up.  “Shoes, sleep… they sound kind of the same.”

“They don’t,” Sam said, and her voice sounded amused.  “If you’re curious.  Or anything other than exhausted.  Your holy water’s under the bed, okay?  It’s open.”

Dean didn’t know what kind of demon presence Sam thought she was going to encounter in religious housing, but she could mock her tomorrow.  She could do a lot of things tomorrow.  Wake up, go to class… not be Nick’s girlfriend.  This week was off to a really fantastic start.

The next time she woke up, it was dark and Sam was gone.  It took her too long to place the room, and she was careful not to move even in the silence.  This definitely wasn’t her apartment.

Then there was a soft shush of… something.  Something like breathing, and she was in the Lighthouse with her crazy Christian roommate.  Cas.  It must be Cas who was making noise, moving in her sleep, because Dean was back in a twin bed with nothing but a pillow for company.

She fumbled her wrist free, but her watch still wasn’t there.  She was thirsty.  Her jeans were uncomfortable.  She wouldn’t be able to find her way around the room in the dark, but there was water here somewhere.  She should at least be able to get her clothes off without getting out of bed.

She’d do it as soon as she woke up the rest of the way.

When sudden light made Dean roll toward the wall, smashing her elbow against it and grumbling into the covers, she remembered what she hated about having a roommate.  She could yell at Nick for being stupid.  She’d have to be more polite to Castiel; the girl could probably call down the wrath of God.  It was always the quiet ones.

She didn’t hear anything, though.  No apology.  No sound of movement.  It occurred to her belatedly that she didn’t hate the world quite as much as she had when it had been dark a minute ago.

Dean cracked her eyes open.  There was a shadow on the wall in front of her.  A faint, window-shaped shadow, and the light that had woken her wasn’t as fluorescent as she’d thought.

After a moment’s consideration, she rolled onto her back.

Sunlight.

It was morning.  Her alarm hadn’t gone off yet – she knew Sam had set it – but Castiel’s bed was made up and neat, like she’d been and gone without leaving a mark.  Which was weird, since Dean was a light sleeper, but hey.  If Cas could get in and out without waking her up, they’d probably get along great.

She didn’t see Cas again until that night, which was just fine with her.  Her plan for the day consisted of a shower, meeting with her advisor, and avoiding everyone she knew.  The shower was easier than she’d expected: there were two on the second floor, both full, but she met a girl named Mary in the bathroom who told her there was another one downstairs and one in the basement.  The first floor shower was empty, so Dean didn’t have to decide if the inherently creepy nature of a basement shower was worth it after all.

Meeting with her advisor was harder.  Mostly because she’d woken up early and not having to rush meant she had more time to realize how hungry she was.  And how totally unprepared she was to talk about byzantine composition.  She wasn’t even sure where her books were.

Her phone had six missed calls on it.  Four from Sam, two from Nick.  She left it plugged into the wall while she went out to find food.

It was still there when she came back from the garage just before dinner.

So was Castiel, who looked up without surprise when she opened the door.  “Hello, Dean.”

“Hey,” Dean said, feeling like the intruder she was.  “Sorry about your sheets and stuff.  I’m gonna get them washed tonight and give ’em back to you.”

Castiel tilted her head.  “You may keep them,” she said.  “They have served their purpose.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, and Castiel seemed to understand her question.

“To make the room look occupied,” she said.

“Right,” Dean said, closing the door behind her.  “So, about that.”

She paused, but Castiel only looked curious, so she asked.  “What’s wrong with Meg?”

It made Castiel pause.  The stare she leveled at Dean was impressive, and Dean wondered if they were pretending Cas didn’t hate Meg after all.  It was just a coincidence that she didn’t like to look at her, or stand near her, or interact with her in any way.  Because they were all nice girls here.

“Meg is a demon,” Castiel said at last.

Dean froze.  “Sorry,” she said.  There was no way she’d heard what she thought she heard.  “What did you just say?”

“Meg is a demon,” Castiel repeated, calmly and very clearly.  “I know you are familiar with this phenomenon.  I see no reason to act on the information at this time, as her motives in manifesting here are unclear to me, but the fact remains.”

“She’s a demon,” Dean said.  She was really trying to make this conversation into something that wasn’t what she thought it was.  Into something that made sense.  “And you’re trying to figure out her motives?”

“Yes,” Castiel said.  That was all she said.  Because apparently in Castiel’s world, this was the kind of thing that came up in conversation.

“Right.”  She was obviously supposed to say something – she’d asked, after all – but there was just no way they were on the same page here.  “What do you mean, I’m familiar with the phenomenon?”

Castiel’s gaze dropped to her hand and the water bottle Dean now held.  She’d picked it up off the floor without thinking, getting it out of the way so she could kick one of the boxes further under the bed.  But it was just a bottle: plastic, opaque, a freebie given away at one of the freshman fairs her first year on campus.

“Your water bottle rattles,” Castiel said.

Dean glanced down at it.  She gave it a shake, even though she knew Castiel was right.  Even with the sloshing of the water, there was a faint but unmistakable click-click, click as the rosary washed up against the sides.

Still.  “That’s a hell of a leap,” Dean said, frowning at her.

Without looking, Castiel picked her travel mug up off of her dresser.  She tilted it to the side, and there was a quiet click.  “I find,” she said, like it was nothing, “that I fit in better here when I limit my swearing.”

Dean could only stare at her.

The corner of Castiel’s mouth lifted, and she offered a small smile.

“Why are you here at all?” Dean blurted out.  A hunter of the supernatural in a house that worshipped God?  “In a religious building – you believe this crap?  After everything we’ve seen?”

Castiel considered that.  “If there are demons,” she said at last, “why can’t there be angels?”

“Okay,” Dean said, setting her water bottle on her desk.  “I’ve seen demons.  I’ve seen werewolves and vampires and kitsune, but you know what I’ve never seen?  An angel.  I’ve never seen a single angel helping out the poor schmucks down here on earth.  So if there’s really a God, where is he?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel said.  She didn’t seem particularly upset about it.  “On the other hand, I don’t know where Meg is right now either.  But I don’t doubt that she exists.”

Dean opened her mouth, then remembered who she was talking to.  She closed it again.

Castiel frowned anyway.  “Was that rude?  I apologize; Rachel is attempting to… ‘socialize’ me, she says.”

Dean raised an eyebrow in surprise.  Because her roommate wasn’t at the top of the ‘people she wanted to piss off’ list.  “Dude, that was all me.  You can believe whatever you want, I didn’t mean to.  Argue with you, or whatever.”

“Were we arguing?” Castiel asked.  “It seemed like a logical conversation to me.”

Dean couldn’t help but smile back at that.  “Okay, so.  Your Rachel would probably say we have the same level of ‘socialization,’ then.  So we should do okay.”

It suddenly occurred to her to ask, “Hey, does Rachel know?”

“Know what?”  Castiel was either really distracted or really oblivious.  Dean wasn’t going to lay odds on either one – especially since Sam said the same thing about her.

“About you,” she said, waving vaguely in the direction of Castiel’s mug.  Which Castiel was still holding, so maybe that wasn’t very helpful.  But she wasn’t sure she could spell out the question, ‘does your girlfriend know you’re a hunter?’

“Rachel knows everything about me,” Castiel said.

“Right,” Dean said.  Because apparently it wasn’t much of a secret.  And she wasn’t envious at all.  “Okay.  Good to know.”

Castiel didn’t say anything, and Dean figured that had come out sort of homo-uncomfortable even though she hadn’t meant it to.  So she asked, “You got plans for dinner?”

“Yes,” Castiel said.  “On Tuesdays a group of us have dinner at the dining hall.  You’re welcome to join us.”

Dean hesitated.  She hadn’t had a meal plan since she moved off campus, and if she was going to pay, she’d rather know the menu in advance.  Not to mention the fact that the nearest dining hall catered to all Sam’s friends.  She didn’t need them asking her how she was – at all, but especially while she was surrounded by Castiel’s Christian buddies.

“I have plenty of guest passes,” Castiel offered.  “If you don’t have a meal plan.”

On the other hand, hey, free meal.  “I’m in,” Dean agreed.  “When’s dinner?”

“Rachel will come by,” Castiel said.  Whether that meant she didn’t bother to keep track, or the time changed from week to week, Dean didn’t know.  “Usually around five-thirty.”

“You go whenever she wants?” Dean asked without thinking.  She was curious, but she could have put it better.  “I mean…”

“No,” Castiel said, before she could finish.  She didn’t sound defensive, just puzzled.  “I go whenever everyone’s back from class, but Rachel tends to be more attuned to these things than I.”

Translation: Rachel was the social one.  Dean knew what that was like.  Nick had always cared more about including other people than she did.  If Dean wanted to go out, she went out.  If she wanted to sit at home and watch TV, no one was going to get her up off the couch until she was good and ready.  What other people were doing was a passing interest at best.

“I should clean up,” Dean said, just as a knock came on the door.  She looked for her watch out of habit, then glanced at the clock.  It was 5:39.  Of course.

“You look fine,” Castiel said.  “Come in,” she added, raising her voice.

The door opened, and Rachel walked in like she’d done it a hundred times before.  “Hi,” she said, her gaze flicking over Castiel.  When she looked at Dean, Dean would swear she narrowed her eyes at the water bottle before looking back at Castiel.  Still holding her mug.

Something passed between them.  Dean wasn’t awesome at reading people for nothing, and she knew when they were talking with their eyes.  Castiel gave a tiny nod, maybe not even there but Rachel clearly got something out of it.

“Hi, Dean,” she repeated.  Nothing about her tone had changed.  “Want to join us for dinner?”

What are you, psychic too? Dean thought.  Because she’d swear Rachel now knew she was a hunter.

Rachel held her gaze, a small smiling curling the corners of her mouth.

Sixty-nine, Dean thought experimentally.  Say sixty-nine.

Rachel raised an eyebrow at her.  Probably just curious about her silence.

“Dean will join us,” Castiel said, out of nowhere.  “She wants to change first.”

“Uh-huh,” Rachel said.  She hadn’t stopped staring at Dean.

“We’ll wait downstairs,” Castiel added, standing up.  “Come, Rachel.”

And if Dean had assumed Rachel was the bossy one in their relationship, maybe she had more to learn than she knew.  Because Rachel looked away as soon as Castiel got up.  Not to watch.  To stare at the floor instead, and Dean frowned.  Like she was – 

What?  Like she was what?

Castiel put a hand on her elbow, and Rachel let herself be drawn out of the room without protest.  Castiel glanced back at Dean before she closed the door.  “Join us when you’re ready,” she said.  And they were gone.

Like Rachel was in trouble, Dean realized.  The moment she was alone again, she could breathe, and she hadn’t even noticed when she stopped.  Because Rachel might be teaching Cas how to talk to people, but Castiel was clearly in charge.

Because she was the hunter, maybe?  She was protecting Rachel?

Protecting her from Dean, though?  That didn’t make any sense.  If Rachel was a civilian, Dean would take care of her too.  And if Rachel was… well.  Dean knew her share of psychics.  Or whatever.  Castiel wouldn’t have taken up with her if she was creepy, right?

That was a lot of trust to put in someone she’d just met.  But Cas didn’t come across as trustworthy, and that was reassuring in and of itself.  Dean figured anyone who had to convince someone else they could be trusted probably had something to make up for, and she didn’t need to get involved in that again.

She also figured there was more than just Cas and Rachel waiting for her downstairs, so she pulled clothes out of the duffel Sam had brought her and changed at the end of her bed.  Far enough from the window she couldn’t see the ground outside, so she was probably safe.  Unless there was someone next door with binoculars or something.

She didn’t bother fixing her hair, but she did wash her face.  After an afternoon at the garage it could look like anything.  Tossing the towel Cas had loaned her on the end of her bed, Dean grabbed her ID and her key and left the rest behind.

The front hall and the living area downstairs were full.  She hadn’t seen this many people in the Lighthouse – ever.  Which, admittedly, wasn’t a very long time considering she’d just moved in yesterday.  But she didn’t get it until she heard Rachel’s voice saying, “Dean’s here.”

And then Becky said, “Okay, that’s everyone!  Let’s go!”

That was it.  They all started moving: Lenore waved to her, and Mary from the bathroom that morning said hi, and Dean wondered if this was actually everyone who lived in the Lighthouse.  Two more girls introduced themselves on their way out, and then Castiel was next to her and Dean didn’t even know where she’d come from.

“Is this the entire building?” Dean wanted to know.  She tried not to sound as incredulous as she felt, because she remembered group trips to the dining hall like this… from her freshman days.  Her early freshman days.

“No,” Castiel said.

“It’s friends of people who live here, too,” Rachel offered.  “And a couple of people who came early for IV.  We guest pass anyone coming from off campus.”

Dean counted sixteen people as they made their way across the lawn and onto the sidewalk.  She didn’t see Jesse, so that was at least one resident unaccounted for.  The group started to look more normal as it went, breaking into pairs and groups of three to fit on the sidewalk, and maybe they could have been any bunch of friends on their way to dinner.

“Are you uncomfortable with crowds?” Castiel asked.

Dean was suddenly aware that she was scanning.  She was trying to keep an eye on all of them at once, and it had to be obvious to someone who was looking for it.  Maybe Castiel was doing the same thing.

“It’s not the crowd,” she said, glancing at Castiel and wondering if she understood that this particular “no” meant “yes.”

Castiel studied her as they walked, Rachel a little in front and making no effort to participate.  “I see,” Castiel said at last, though her tone said she didn’t.  Then, out of the blue, she added, “You’re used to having more protection than this.”

Dean gave her a quick look, but it was Rachel who spoke.  “She’s used to being around people she knows.”

Castiel considered this.  “I see,” she repeated.

“I haven’t,” Dean began.  “I mean –”

They were trying, and no matter where she was she’d be safer if the people around her had a reason not to sell her out.  Superficial friendship was a reason.  Sometimes it was even enough of a reason.

“I think Nick got most of our friends in the split.”  She meant it to be a joke, but it wasn’t working.  She couldn’t make it sound like she didn’t care.  “Anyway.  I’m just a little out of it.  It’s not you.”

“I didn’t think it was,” Castiel said.

It was probably weird that the words made Dean want to smile.

Dinner was an annoying combination of awkward and ridiculous, with everyone acting normal right up until the point where they were all sitting down.  They took up two tables, and they actually said grace.  All of them.  Dean couldn’t figure out why the girl next to her was sticking a hand into her personal space until she felt Castiel take her other hand and she realized they were supposed to pray.

She barely managed to keep her mouth shut.  She shot Castiel a look that said, Are you kidding me?  Unfortunately, Castiel’s head was bowed, and she heard Lenore’s voice murmur, “Bless us, Lord, and for these, thy gifts, which we are about to receive from thy bounty…”

Someone at the other end of the table was leading them just a word or two out of sync with Lenore.  Next to her, she could hear Castiel whispering along, “Make us thankful, and ever mindful of the needs of others.  Amen.”

Then Dean’s hands were released, and everyone started talking to each other and reaching for their trays.  Like nothing had even happened.  But they’d all known the words, and seriously?  Did they do that every meal?

“It makes the table a sacred space,” Castiel said, very softly.  So softly Dean barely heard her, and she wondered if anyone else even could.  “Until someone else sits down, the circle is unbroken.”

Dean didn’t know what that meant, and she didn’t dare ask in this company.  The girl on her other side was introducing herself as Emily, making conversation about the food, and Dean tried not to sound like she didn’t care.  The food was good, it was free, and there was a lot of it.  The Lighthouse crew would have to be blatantly obnoxious for her to turn that down.

And they weren’t.  At least, not when Dean could hear, and not even when Sam came over to ream her out for not returning her calls.  Castiel just slid over and made space for Sam to pull up a chair.  Everyone at their end of the table paused to introduce themselves, and Sam took the welcome in stride.

“I haven’t checked my voice mail,” Dean told her, which was the truth.

“Why not?” Sam demanded.  “I plugged your phone in myself; it’s gotta be charged by now.”

“Busy,” Dean said.  “I forgot to take my phone today, okay?  Things have been…”  She kept herself from saying “weird” just in time.  “Busy,” she repeated, which sounded dumb but was at least less likely to offend anyone.

“Yeah,” Sam said, frowning.  Sympathetic, like always.  Even when she pretended not to be so Dean wouldn’t mock her for it.  “I guess.  You doing okay?”

“Still fine,” Dean said.  She didn’t want to talk about it, and she wanted to talk about it around Castiel’s friends even less.  “Who are you eating with, anyway?”

“Mary Ann,” Sam said.  “And Jerry and Zach.  Rebecca, if she ever shows up.  You should come over.”

Dean had been thinking the same thing – perfect excuse to get away from the Lighthouse group, even if it was kind of crappy to bail on Cas after she’d basically bought Dean dinner – until Sam mentioned Jerry.  She and Jerry were the opposite of friends.  If they sat at the same table one of them would have a black eye by the time they got up, and it wouldn’t be Dean.

“Yeah,” Dean said.  “No thanks.  Tell Zach hi.”

“Sam,” Castiel’s voice said.  “Will you and your friends join us for dinner?”

“Thanks, but not tonight,” Sam said, like she wasn’t even surprised to be asked.  “We’re going over some stuff for class, so.  Good to see you again.”

“You also,” Castiel agreed.

Sam’s hand fell to Dean’s shoulder as she got up, squeezing hard.  “Take care of yourself,” she said.  It wasn’t her typical goodbye, and Dean knew she was seconds away from being told to call if she need anything.

“Later, Sam,” Dean muttered.

Sam hesitated a moment, but she put her chair back without saying anything else.  Dean didn’t watch her walk away.  She knew Sam had her back.  She just didn’t want to be reminded that she needed it, sometimes.

“She seems nice,” Emily remarked.

“Yeah,” Dean grumbled.  “She’s a real ray of sunshine.”

Which pretty much killed the conversation with Emily, and Castiel was listening to Rachel talk, so Dean was finally allowed to eat in peace.  One convenient side effect of being surrounded by church girls was that they shielded Dean from anyone else who might want to check in.  So, awkward conversation or not, that was an unlooked-for bonus.

She ended up leaving with Castiel and Rachel.  Some of the girls were done before them, and the IV girls looked like they could stay all night, but somehow the three of them all finished at the same time.  Cas and Rachel were going somewhere, together, and Dean knew when not to ask.  Still, it made a convenient excuse for her to get up too, and it also made it vaguely less creepy when Sam was lying in wait for her outside.

“Dude.”  Dean glared at her.  “What!”

“Hi Cassie,” Sam offered.  “Hey Rachel.”  Like she hadn’t been sitting next to them twenty minutes ago.  “You guys headed somewhere?”

“They have plans,” Dean interrupted.  “’Night, Rachel.  See you, Cas.  Sam.  What do you want?”

“Good night,” Castiel said, but she lingered, as if that might not be quite enough.  Dean saw Rachel’s hand brush against Castiel’s wrist.  There was something off about it, but all Dean knew was it worked and they disappeared.  Leaving her with Sam.

“Come on,” Sam was saying.  “You know Mom would never forgive me if I let you mope your way through this.  Let’s go see a movie or something.”

“Okay,” Dean said.  “First off.  The only time I’m moping is when I’m around you, because you’re like a mope machine.  Second, know why I can’t watch a movie?  Because I have actual work to do.  Can I go do that?  Is that okay with you?”

“Sure,” Sam said.  “Want to meet me in the SUB?  Third floor lounge?”

“No,” Dean said.  They hadn’t actually held hands, she realized.  Cas and Rachel touched each other, but they did it like waving or pointing: practical and brief.  Necessary.

“No,” she repeated, because Sam was still waiting.  “I want to go back to my room and find my damn books.  And then I want to do something easy, like translate Ancient Greek, because you know what?  It doesn’t involve other people.”

“I could study in your room,” Sam offered.

Dean gave up.  It wasn’t worth the fight.  If she let Sam watch her, Sam would probably let her not talk, and it would all work out in the end.

Except the Castiel and Rachel thing, which Dean was starting to wonder if she’d actually misread.  When she thought back over their interactions, the only obvious things were the staring – and seriously, Castiel stared at everyone – and the way Castiel had said Rachel knows everything about me.  True?  Symbolic?  Figurative?  Hunting was probably the most important thing about her, after all, and if Rachel knew that then it would be like she knew everything.

Sam didn’t leave until sometime after eleven, and Castiel still hadn’t come back by the time Dean fell into bed.  She’d held out for Sam’s departure, refusing to concede despite the fact that Sam’s day was skewed way later than hers.  Leaving had probably been more about finding more food than sleeping.

When Castiel wasn’t there in the morning, either, Dean wondered again.  They could be sleeping together.  She was pretty sure that was buried somewhere under “NO” on the code of conduct she’d signed, but maybe that was why they kept it quiet?

Still didn’t add up.  They looked at each other a lot, but the way they touched was… superficially intimate.  Like they took each other for granted but didn’t expect anything more.  They never expected anything except exactly what they got, which was instant attention or a change in direction or...

What did they get out of it, Dean wondered?

Was it healthy for her to have this much curiosity about her roommate’s love life?

It took her two seconds to assure herself it was perfectly normal, then try to forget about it anyway.  She was mostly successful.  Until she found Castiel in the room when she came back from work, sitting in the same position she’d been in the day before, reading what could have been the same book.  Possibly even the same page.

“Do you ever sleep?” Dean blurted out.

It wasn’t the first thing she wanted to know, but it was probably the least offensive.  Maybe that wasn’t saying much, but for her it was decent.  Sam would be proud.

She decided Sam would never know anyway.

Castiel was giving her an odd look.  “Did you expect to find me sleeping at this hour?”

“No,” Dean said.  “I mean, last night.  The night before.  You didn’t even wake me up.  And everything wakes me up; Nick always –”  She broke off.

“Clearly not everything,” Castiel said.

Dean couldn’t tell if she was joking or not.  “You’re really quiet,” she said.  “You have early classes?”

“Many science courses start early,” Castiel said.  “I’m told it’s to wean out the weak.”

It was hard not to smile at that, and Dean let her bag fall to the floor as she picked her way over to her bed.  She really should do something about the boxes – stack them, or consolidate them, or something.  Her side of the room had a chair and she couldn’t even get to it in the mess.

“And your own classes?” Castiel asked, as she sat down.  Like she was looking for something to say.  “Do you enjoy them?”

Dean shrugged.  “Enough to keep going,” she said.  “My mom thought it would be useful.  Family business, and all that.”

Castiel considered that.  She hadn’t lowered her book at all, like the conversation was nothing at best and a nuisance at worst – but she was the one who kept talking.  “You’re not the only one in your family who sleeps with a water bottle under their bed,” she said at last.

“Nah,” Dean said, smiling at her weird way of talking around it.  “We’re all in.  Me and Sam grew up in the life; this –”  She gestured at the room, the campus, the town beyond.  “This was our mom’s way of giving us a break.”

“I see,” Castiel said.

“What about you?” Dean asked, when she still didn’t look back at her book.  “Any brothers or sisters?  How’d you get started?”

“My family is quite large,” Castiel said.  “We were all raised… in the life, as you say.”

“Yeah?”  It wasn’t a family-friendly business.  Dean only knew one other hunter’s kid.  “Your parents, too?”

“My father is… absent,” Castiel said, her gaze dropping from Dean’s eyes.  “I grew up with my brothers and sisters.”

“No mom?” Dean asked.

Castiel shook her head mutely.

“Sucks,” Dean offered.  “My dad died when I was four.  I still dunno how Mom kept us together after that.”

There was a long moment of silence, and she wondered if maybe that was too much.  Or maybe it wasn’t enough, compared to what Castiel had been through.  Maybe they shouldn’t even be talking about this.  She was just someone Castiel had let in to get rid of Meg, after all.

“My older brothers took care of us,” Castiel said quietly.  “For a time.  They’ve been… disappearing.”

“Disappearing?” Dean repeated.

Castiel shrugged.  “The family is in disarray.  We… I’ve lost contact with... many of them.”

“That sucks,” Dean said again.

There was another quiet moment, and then Castiel said, “I’m sorry to hear about your father?”  It sounded like a question, like she wasn’t sure it was the right thing to say, but it wasn’t like Dean could judge.

“Yeah,” she said.  “Sorry about yours, too.”

Castiel tilted her head.  “Thank you,” she replied, but it sounded uncertain.

“Hey, are you and Rachel together?” Dean asked.  She figured at this point there wasn’t any way it could get more awkward.  And she did want to know.  If only because her gaydar was awesome; she hadn’t been wrong about someone since… well.

Nick, actually.

Castiel was looking around the room, and Dean didn’t get why until she said, “Not at the moment.”

Oh, ha ha.

“Romantically,” Dean said, rolling her eyes.  “I won’t tell anyone, okay?  I was just curious.”

Castiel frowned, and Dean added, “Tell me to butt out if you want.”  Probably shouldn’t have said anything in the first place.  Okay, she knew she shouldn’t have said anything, but talking about family always made her weird.  It was just a handy diversion.

A handy, totally typical, foot-in-mouth diversion.

“You’re asking if I am romantically involved with Rachel,” Castiel said slowly.

“Yeah.”  What, she had to stall now?  No way had they never been asked that before.

On the other hand, it was an all-girls building.  And Dean was pretty sure Christianity took some kind of stand on homosexuality: something about hellfire and destruction, right?  She didn’t have time for that crap when there were monsters that wanted to skin you; she figured you took your comfort where you could find it.  But maybe “lesbian” wasn’t the first thing good Christian girls thought when two of them stared at each other as much as Castiel and Rachel did.

“I’m not,” Castiel said.  “Rachel is my sister.”

“Uh-huh,” Dean said.  “Your sister in God?”

Castiel was staring at her, and Dean couldn’t figure out if she was really being that obnoxious or if Castiel was just pretending to be confused until she said, “Rachel and I share the same father.”

Dean blinked.  Because she…  “Wait.  Really?”

“Really,” Castiel said.

Dean stared back at her.  “Okay,” she said.  “You and Rachel are sisters.”

Castiel nodded.

“Wow,” Dean said, slumping back against the wall.  “That’s, um.  Yeah.  Whole new level of awkward, here.  Even for me.”  Then, because it was definitely called for when she messed up this bad, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Castiel said.

“No, really,” Dean said.  “I’m sorry.  I was way out of line there; it’s… I mean, I wish I could say it’s been a bad week, you know?  But I’m pretty much always like this.”

It must have been the right thing to say, because against all odds, Castiel was smiling.  “I’m equally awkward in social situations,” she said.  “I probably shouldn’t admit that I don’t even know what you said wrong?”

Dean laughed.  It startled her as much as anything, but the pleased look on Castiel’s face made it okay somehow.  “Normally you don’t go around accusing people of dating their family members?” she prompted, because she didn’t think Castiel was really as clueless as she was pretending.

Incredibly, Castiel shrugged again.  “You drew the best conclusion you could based on the information you had,” she said.  “It was not illogical.”

“You watch any Star Trek?” Dean blurted out.

Castiel tilted her head.  “No,” she said.

Dean might have let that tiny hesitation go, but it was looking pretty hard to upset her at this point.  “Really?” she said.  “’Cause there’s these Vulcans, right?  And they talk about logic a lot.  You kind of remind me of them.”

“I’m familiar with the premise,” Castiel said.  “You’re more… Bajoran than Vulcan, correct?”

Dean gaped at her.

“Is that offensive?” Castiel asked, when she didn’t answer.  “I didn’t intend for it to be.”

“You don’t watch Star Trek but you got Bajoran?” Dean blurted out.  “Where did that come from?”

“I –”  Castiel looked a little worried, now, and Dean couldn’t figure out why.  “Rachel… talks about it, sometimes?”

“Sometimes, huh?”  Dean tried to reassure her with a knowing smile.  “I bet.  She have a favorite series?”

“I don’t believe so,” Castiel said.

Dean scoffed.  “Dude, everyone has a favorite.  I bet it’s Deep Space Nine.  That was the big Bajoran one.”

Castiel looked mildly curious.  “Which was the Vulcan one?”

It was a weird question, but hey, she’d started it.  “The first one,” Dean said.  “There’s a Vulcan on Voyager too, but.  He’s not as cool.  And he has a crush on the captain.  Not that that’s really different from the first one, but whatever.”

“Voyager is on now?” Castiel asked.

“Seventh season starts next week,” Dean said.  “You ever want to see it, there’s a group that watches it every Wednesday over in the SUB.”

“Do you watch it?” Castiel wanted to know.

“Sometimes,” Dean said.  “I mean, I have to watch next week, ’cause last season ended with a cliffhanger.  And all the previews show the Vulcan getting turned into a Borg, so.”

“Borg?” Castiel repeated.

“Hive mind,” Dean said.  “Individuals fused to a collective consciousness until they lose their free will and do nothing but – wait, you know Bajorans but not the Borg?”

Castiel shrugged.  “Maybe there weren’t any on Deep Space Nine?”

Dean considered this.  “Yeah,” she said.  “Okay, that’s true.  So she probably doesn’t watch Voyager, huh?”

“Not since we came here,” Castiel said.  “I would like to, however.”

There was a knock on the door, and Dean waited for Castiel to call “come in.”  They kept staring at each other, though, and Dean realized two things simultaneously.  One, Castiel’s stare was a lot easier to get used to than she’d expected if she already didn’t notice it.  Two, Castiel was waiting for her okay.

Dean nodded, and Castiel called, “Come in!”

“Hi,” Lenore said, pushing the door open and sticking her head in.  “You guys want dinner?  Meredith and I are on our way over to the dining hall.”

Dean glanced at Castiel and found her looking back.  Waiting again.  Unless she was totally wrong about the way Lenore and Castiel barely spoke to each other, they didn’t usually go to dinner together.  Which meant Lenore was mostly asking Dean, and she didn’t think she could do another prayer meal so soon.

“Nah, not hungry yet,” Dean said.  “Thanks, though.”

“Sure,” Lenore said with a smile.  “Cassie?”

Castiel shook her head once.  “I don’t require food at this time.”

Dean grinned, because as far as she could tell Castiel just talked like that.  Naturally, or something.  “Have fun,” she told Lenore.  “Tell us if there’s anything good for dessert.”

“Will do,” Lenore said cheerfully.  “See you later!”

Dean waved, and Lenore pulled the door shut behind her.

Dean waited until they probably weren’t standing right outside anymore, then said quietly, “They do that every night?”

Castiel frowned.  “Do what?”

“Go to dinner as a group,” Dean said.  “Knock on doors, round up the troops.  That kind of thing.”

“I think so,” Castiel said.  “They don’t usually ask me anymore.  Rachel says it’s because I always say no.”

“Do you?” Dean asked.

“Yes,” Castiel said.  “I have many other things to do, and I don’t see the point of making conversation at every single meal.  Going in company seems to extend the dining process significantly.”

“No argument here,” Dean said.  Castiel didn’t look particularly busy to her, but she wasn’t going to judge someone for wanting some time alone.  “I’m gonna change, maybe take a shower, then get some food at the market.  Welcome to come if you want.”

Castiel seemed surprised, but she said, “Thank you.”

When she came back from the shower to leave her towel and pick up her wallet, Castiel put her book down for the first time and Dean figured that meant yes.

The next day, she came back to the Lighthouse to find Cas reading a Star Trek novel.

A bad Star Trek novel.

“Seriously?” Dean asked, dropping her bag on the floor.

Castiel looked up.  “Hello, Dean.”

“Why are you reading that?”  Dean really didn’t know where the urge to tear the book out of her hands came from; Cas was allowed to read whatever she wanted.  Obviously it wasn’t Dean’s responsibility to physically stop her.

Except that it kind of was, she decided.

“Seriously,” Dean repeated, before Castiel could even answer.  “That’s terrible.  Give me that.”  She’d walked over and snatched the book before her better judgment – if she had any – could kick in.  “Where did you –”

Then she spotted the stack on the floor next to Castiel’s dresser.  “You have more?  Are these new?”  They looked new, shiny and uncreased, no white stress marks on the binding.  “Did you buy these?”

“Rachel had some,” Castiel said.  “I borrowed them from  her.”

“You borrowed all of these from Rachel?” Dean asked.  “She has terrible taste.”

“They’re not… all hers,” Castiel admitted.  “That one mentioned Vulcans.”

“The title is a lie,” Dean told her.  “And it’s depressing, okay?  No one wants that.  Look –”  Dean put the book on top of the dresser and crouched down by the stack of books.  “No,” she said, putting the first one on the floor.  “Bad,” she said, the next one following.  “Creepy, stupid, no…

“Here,” she said, passing the sixth one on the pile to Cas.  “This one is good.  And also this one,” she added, sending over the seventh as well.  “I approve of these; Jean Lorrah is inventive and tricky and likes to destroy things, which is always a plus.

“Also Gene Deweese,” she said, separating out another book.  “Anyone named ‘Gene’ is good.”

They were all original Star Trek novels, she noticed, adding more to the “bad” pile.  Castiel had scooted over to the edge of the bed and was watching her with interest and no objection whatsoever.  So Dean kept going.

“Hilarious,” she said, passing Death Count up onto the bed.  The Wounded Sky followed, with the comment, “Hilarious and smart,” until she realized, “Oh, wait, you’re a physics major; you won’t like that.  It doesn’t make sense.”  She tried to take it back, but Castiel had already picked up the book and was studying the back cover.  She lifted it out of Dean’s reach without a word.

Dean shrugged, sorting another book free and tossing it on the bed.  “Biology,” she said, and then she found the next Diane Duane book.  “Politics,” she said.  It went on the bed, and the rest of them got piled in the stack she’d rejected.  “The other ones aren’t cool; don’t bother.  Why don’t you have any ‘New Frontier’?”

It was a mostly rhetorical question, but Castiel answered without looking away from her new book.  “I don’t know what that is.”

“The only consistently good Star Trek series,” Dean said.  “I’ll get it from the library for you.”

“Thank you,” Castiel said absently.

Dean sat back on her heels and stared up at her.  Cas was reading the first page now, apparently as intrigued by this one as she had been by Vulcan’s Glory a few minutes ago.  So she might not be very discriminating, but hey.  At least she’d started with the right Enterprise.

Castiel’s eyes flicked to Dean as she turned the page, and Dean shook her head.  Pushing herself to her feet, she went over to rummage a clean shirt and maybe some long sleeves from one of the boxes.  Saving the world from itself, one good Star Trek story at a time.

It didn’t make up for the rest of the day: missed appointment, snarls with financial aid, messed up catalytic converter.  But it was better than anything she’d managed so far.

Castiel wasn’t in the room when Dean came back on Friday.  She still hadn’t seen the girl sleep, and the most disheveled her bed ever looked was when she was sitting on it to read.  She must use it, right?  She wasn’t a vampire or anything.  Probably.

Dean was trying to decide what to do about dinner when the knock came.  Even Friday, she thought?  They even rounded up a dinner group on Friday?

“Come in,” she called, expecting either Lenore or Becky.

It was Nick standing in the doorway.

Dean just stared at him.

“Hey,” Nick said after a moment.  “I’m sorry.”

There’d been voice mail every day, but she hadn’t listened to it.  They’d said pretty much everything they needed to say the night she left – or maybe she’d just heard everything she wanted to hear.  “I’m sorry” was new, though.  She didn’t hate it.

“You can come in,” Dean said.

She saw Mary in the hall as Nick stepped through the door, and the other girl waved.  “Dean!” she called.  “Dinner at six!  You want us to bang on your door?”

Yeah, she thought.  Even Friday night.

“Sure,” Dean said aloud.  What the hell, right?  It wasn’t like she had anything better to do.  “I’ll be here.”

Mary waved again, and Dean closed the door behind Nick.

“I shouldn’t have flipped out,” Nick said, as soon as the latch clicked into place.  “I’m sorry, that was… that was really fucking stupid.  I didn’t actually plan past the apology,” he added.  “I thought you’d be yelling at me by now.”

Dean felt her lips twitch.  “Missed my cue,” she said.  “You suck, you’re an asshole, I hate you.  How’s that?”

“Pretty much what I expected,” Nick said.  “I thought it would be louder.”

“They’re probably eavesdropping in the hallway,” Dean said.

“You think?”  Nick glanced over his shoulder.  “I notice they gave me a time limit.”

“What?”  Dinner, Dean realized.  They hadn’t been inviting her; they’d been asking if she needed help.  “Oh.  Yeah.”  Her clock said 5:42.  So less than twenty minutes.

“Okay, so.”  Nick looked stupidly lost, but whatever.  He wasn’t the one who’d told someone the fucking secret of their life and been mocked for it.  He could suck it up.  “I guess I need to work on…”

“Not being a jackass?” Dean said.

“Yeah,” Nick said.  “That.  I mean… could I get another chance?  You want to, like, tell me more crazy stuff and we’ll see how I do?  I think I’d get better at it with practice.”

The night she’d told him about hunting had been kind of make or break.  She didn’t think they got a do-over.  He hadn’t believed her, he’d thought she was crazy, end of story.  Changing his mind later couldn’t erase that fundamental lack of trust.

Right?

“Look,” Nick said.  “It was a lot to drop on me, okay?  I wasn’t – I wasn’t really ready for that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry you weren’t ready for my life,” Dean snapped.  “It was a lot to drop on a four-year-old, too, but I managed not to have a screaming fit about it.”

“I thought you were screwing with me!” Nick exclaimed.  “Come on, Dean.  You’ve been lying about this for years and you’re good, okay?  You’re damn good at it!  It never even crossed my mind that maybe this shit was real!  Is real!  Whatever!”

“Surprise,” Dean said, folding her arms.  “Welcome to the Campbell family business.”

“Yeah,” Nick said.  “It’s a surprise.  It’s kind of a huge, life-changing revelation, actually.  I’m sorry I took it so badly.  I never meant to mess you up.”

She was sorry too.  She wouldn’t have told him if she hadn’t thought he could take it.

“I have a life,” Dean said.  “Waiting for me.  You know, when I graduate.  I thought you might want to know if we were gonna… you know.  Talk about the future.”

“Your life isn’t waiting for you,” Nick said.  “It’s following you.”

“It does that,” Dean said.  “That’s why I told you; I can’t just decide this stuff for me.  It’s not just me.  It’s never just me; it’s me and a whole mess of shit that wants to eat people.  I’m gonna stop what I can.  But it’s always gonna be there, and no one who’s with me gets to pretend it’s not.”

“I thought you were… taking a break,” Nick said.  He said it in a careful way that Dean knew all too well, and she wasn’t having this fight with him too.

“I’m not quitting,” Dean said flatly.  “No one gets out.  My mom tried and look where it got us.”

“Because of what happened to your dad,” Nick said.

It wasn’t just her dad.  But if Nick couldn’t handle a few vampires and werewolves, she wasn’t going to throw demons at him too.  Screw practice: she didn’t have time to baby someone through the stories.  There were too many of them.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Dean said.  “I didn’t want to talk about any of it, but I figured you had a right to know.  Let’s just agree neither of us is who we thought we were and move on.”

“I know who you are,” Nick said.  “I’m just a little fuzzy on the details, okay?”

“Yeah, well, the details are pretty much me from four to eighteen,” Dean told him.  “And it’s gonna be me again in about eight months.”

“So tell me,” Nick insisted.  “I want to know.”

“What part of ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ didn’t you get?” Dean snapped.  “I don’t want to talk about it!  I’m over it, okay!  This is my break, my vacation, and maybe it’s boring as hell but I’m almost done, and when I get out of here I’m gonna go gank monsters.  Because that’s what I do.”

“It’s not what you do now,” Nick argued.  “You don’t have to go back just because you graduate.”

“Okay, yeah.”  Dean was officially done with this conversation.  “Clearly the part where I want to got lost in translation.  This isn’t small stuff; it’s my family.  It’s my future.  Sorry if I thought you’d want to be a part of it.”

“Why do you think I’m here?” Nick demanded.  “It’s gonna take more than a few fights to end this!”

Dean scoffed.  “It’s gonna take more than you to keep it going.”

“Lucky I’ve got you, then.”  Nick held her gaze without flinching, which wasn’t as impressive as it used to be but still felt hard to ignore.  Lots of supernatural shit stared just like that.  She’d always appreciated his vaguely inhuman tendencies.

The doorknob rattled half a second before the door was flung open.  She’d never seen Cas enter a room with quite that much energy, and if the girl wasn’t breathless she sure did a good impression of it.  There was a brief moment where Dean actually thought Castiel might be checking on her, that someone in the building had told her Nick was here and maybe Cas had worried.  Which was ridiculous, but it seemed like the kind of thing they did here.

Then Rachel bumped into Castiel’s shoulder, hitting her hard enough that she took a step forward and Rachel was… laughing?  That had to be a first.  Even Castiel looked more amused than usual, although seeing her smile wasn’t as strange as –

“Hello, Dean.”  Her eyes were bright even as they slid from her to Nick.  “We didn’t mean to intrude.”

“No, you’re not,” Dean said quickly.  She remembered that weird roommate dance, when you weren’t really sure whose room it was and what the rules were, but talking about it just made it more awkward.  “Cas, this is Nick.  Nick, Cas and her sister Rachel.”

They really didn’t look anything like sisters, Dean though inconsequentially.

“Hey,” Nick said, lifting his hand in a half-wave.

Castiel and Rachel just stared at him.  Dean wanted to laugh, because wow.  Having them both do it at once was definitely serious.

“Nick just came by to talk,” Dean said.  Who knew what they were thinking.

“Since you’re not answering your phone,” Nick added.

“We said what we needed to say,” Dean muttered.

Nick didn’t back down.  “I don’t think I said what you needed me to say.”

Maybe that was even true, but it wasn’t like he could fix it now.  The moment had passed.  That ship had sailed.  She’d spent the whole week trying not to think about it, and maybe she’d failed but she’d tried.  It would suck if all that effort had been for nothing.

“We’ll go,” Rachel said.  Dean’s gaze jerked toward her just in time to see her fingers graze Castiel’s arm, and the message couldn’t have been more clear: Leave them alone.

Castiel didn’t move.  She was staring at Dean now, and instead of following Rachel she said, “We’re going to the Space Center.  To play laser tag.  Becky told me to invite you.”

Rachel was looking from one of them to the other.  She looked more baffled than annoyed.  “You asked if you could invite her.”

“And she told me I should,” Castiel said smoothly.  Like it was an unimportant distinction, like she was totally unselfconscious.  After seeing her every day for a week Dean didn’t even bother being offended.  Of course Cas thought that inviting someone and being told to invite them were the same thing.

“Now?” Dean heard herself ask.  She wasn’t even considering it; they were a bunch of churchgoing hippies and she would kill them at laser tag.  “I haven’t had dinner yet.”

Nick was giving her a look like, Are you serious?

“There’s food there,” Castiel offered.

“It’s College Night,” Rachel said.  “Eighteen and over only, extra long laser tag and free air hockey.  Plus there’s pizza and french fries and soda if you want it.”  She rattled off the stats like she went every month.  Or like she’d memorized every word out of Becky’s mouth, because Dean had no doubt this was Becky’s idea.

“We were walking by when Becky and Jesse decided to go,” Rachel added.  “Jesse’s driving.”

“My car’s bigger,” Dean said.  “I’ll drive.”

“I thought you were going to dinner with –”  Nick gestured at the door.  He didn’t know Mary, of course.

There was absolutely no way Rachel could have known who he was talking about, but she still said, “I’ll tell Mary you’re coming with us.”

Castiel gave her sister a warning look even before Dean’s eyes narrowed.

Rachel added hastily, “We saw her on the way up.”

You suck at pretending not to be psychic, Dean thought, as loudly and as clearly as she could.  It wasn’t like she didn’t have practice.  Rachel ignored her, but Cas gave her a sharp look and Dean raised an eyebrow at her.  Cas, too?

“It’s a girls’ night,” Castiel told Nick.  “I’m sure you understand.”

She mimicked well, Dean would give her that.  The more she talked to Cas, the easier it was to recognize which words came naturally to her and which were copies of things she’d heard other people say.  Dean smiled when Nick glanced at her, because hey, if Cas was going to this much trouble… it was nice to be wanted.

It was even better to be unavailable when Nick wanted her; she wasn’t above admitting that.

“Okay,” Nick said, lifting his hands in surrender.  “Okay, fine.  I’m out.  I’m glad you’re doing okay, Dean.”

Had she said that?  She was sure she hadn’t said that.  She definitely hadn’t asked him how he was doing, but she found she didn’t really want to know.  She was still shockingly pissed at him under the veneer of civility, and suddenly shooting things – even totally harmless things – didn’t sound so bad.

“Yeah,” she said aloud.  “You too.”

Castiel didn’t get out of the way so much as she came into the room to get something, coincidentally vacating the door in the process.  Where was her bag, anyway?  She looked like she was just coming in for – 

No lab on Fridays, Dean thought.  Of course.

“Can I call you?” Nick asked from the door.

Dean shrugged.  “Can’t stop you.”  Like he’d needed her permission before.

Nick hesitated, but he had to know he wasn’t getting anywhere with her tonight.  She was tired and pissed and nothing about her life seemed clear anymore.  She didn’t need to hear Nick make it all about him right now.

“I’ll go find Mary,” Rachel said, as soon as Nick had cleared the doorway.  She pulled the door shut behind her before Dean could tell her to wait.

“Is she psychic?” Dean demanded, wheeling on Cas.  She should have asked days ago.

“Yes,” Castiel said, with only the briefest hesitation.

Dean stared at her.  “Are you?”

Castiel stared back, but this time it was longer before she said, “Yes.”

Dean nodded.  Fine, whatever, her crazy hunter roommate could read minds or see the future or something.  At least she wasn’t lying about it.  Dean could live with the truth.  “My sister’s psychic,” she said.  “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Likewise,” Castiel said slowly.

Dean grinned at her.  “Just so you know, I’m gonna kick your ass at laser tag.”

An answering smile appeared on Castiel’s face, the first happy expression she’d worn since bursting into the room with Rachel minutes before.  “Don’t count on it,” she said.

She wasn’t kidding.

Dean had never actually been to the Space Center before.  Neither had Jesse, but the startling thing was that Castiel and Rachel had.  They knew exactly how to hold their weapons to block more laser sites than they revealed, which Dean thought had to be cheating but appreciated a lot more after Cas showed her how to do it.  Becky was a lot less strategic about the whole thing, but Jesse learned by watching them and it only took Dean a few minutes to realize that anyone who took it seriously blocked in exactly the same way.

It only took her a few seconds to realize that Castiel was an unnaturally good shot.  Becky made Castiel and Rachel split up by pairing them up with Dean and herself, respectively.  She left Jesse alone, which was more perceptive than Dean had given her credit for.  No way was Jesse a team player, no matter how enthusiastic her “elected leadership” was.

So they were thrown into the arena five minutes after they arrived: they had to take advantage of the rotation, Becky said.  They could eat later.  Dean wasn’t against it; she figured the faster she was shooting the faster she’d calm down.

She hadn’t expected to have Castiel at her back both figuratively and literally.  The girl was ridiculous with a gun, she was unreasonably good at guessing where the next attack was coming from, and she stuck to Dean’s side without even looking.  Dean had expected to lose her the first time one of them turned a corner: the black light killed color differentiation, the strobe made it impossible to see movement, and who the hell cared about sticking together anyway?

Apparently Cas did.  She moved like she was untouchable and she was always there when Dean turned around.  The first time Dean felt something press up against her back she didn’t move because she was targeting someone who hadn’t seen her and she wasn’t about to lose her shot.  She heard the “kill” sound from what had to be Castiel’s weapon because her own stayed lit and from somewhere behind her she heard a defense shield activating.

She fired.  Her own weapon registered a kill, another defense shield came on, and Castiel pushed her around the corner.  Right into two more partners from the other team.  Dean fired without thinking.  Two more guns deactivated.  This time she was the one pulling Castiel, like the girl hadn’t proven she could keep up, like she wasn’t shooting even as Dean yanked on her arm.  Her gun registered another kill anyway.

“Do you ever miss?” Dean said loudly, trying to be heard over the music and the electronic weapons’ warnings.

“No,” Castiel replied.

Dean grinned, putting her back to Castiel’s as they rounded another corner.  It blocked most of their vest sites, and it was surprisingly easy to move with someone who was a psychic sharpshooter.  Dean approved of all hunting-related superpower uses.

By the time the game ended, Dean didn’t bother complaining about their scores.  Castiel’s was higher than hers, but their team had won and now Dean knew how to get bonus accuracy points and bonus shot accelerators.  “Next time,” she told Cas.  “It’s not gonna be so easy.”

Castiel didn’t pretend to be confused.  “I’d be disappointed if it was,” she said.  She was smiling, which made her look strangely familiar all of a sudden.

Normal, Dean told herself.  It made her look normal.  That was all.

“I’m buying you dinner,” Dean said, pulling her vest off.  “It’s not every day someone outshoots me.”

Rachel caught up with them just outside the “briefing room,” Becky and Jesse trailing behind.  The look she exchanged with Castiel made Dean look away, because wow.  It was like they didn’t even need to talk.  She was sure she saw Castiel nod out of the corner of her eye.

“That was great!” Becky exclaimed.  She’d been returning the rest of their vests, Dean realized, and she’d overtaken Jesse on her way out anyway.  That girl could cover some serious ground.  “Should we get some pizza?  I’m hungry!  I think we can play again next round if you want, or there’s the arcade – I haven’t played Thunder Gulch since last year!”

“I’m gonna eat,” Dean said.  “How’s the food?”

The pizza was greasy but the fries were good, as it turned out.  Castiel did, in fact, let Dean pay for her dinner.  Rachel accepted Dean’s “loss” at laser tag as reason enough.  Becky was curious about the competition, impressed by their scores, and wanted to know how often Dean played.

“Often,” Dean said, because it was easier than explaining that she had more experience with real firearms than with something that had no kick.  “You guys come here a lot?”

That was enough to make Becky list the house activities of what sounded like the entire last year.  They didn’t all involve group expeditions to places that didn’t serve alcohol: a lot of them seemed to happen at the Lighthouse itself, and a disturbing number of them involved arts and crafts.  Dean wondered if anyone ever spiked the punch.  Or whatever their punch equivalent was.

It was Jesse who suggested air hockey after pizza.  Becky agreed immediately.  Dean thought they wouldn’t need spiked punch if they all had as much energy as Becky, but the two of them were hilarious to watch.  Jesse was focused in a way that made engineering majors seem like slackers, and Becky didn’t seem to notice.  Which meant she wasn’t intimidated, and also, she played against the table instead of against Jesse.

“Do you play?” Castiel asked quietly.

Dean wasn’t sure how she’d even heard the question.  The music out here wasn’t as loud as it was in the arena, but there was a lot more conversation and the slam of air hockey pucks wasn’t subtle.  The noise of the arcade spilled into all the cracks.  It wasn’t until she looked around and realized how close Castiel was standing that it made sense.

“Yeah,” she said, shifting a little to one side.  “You want to go a game?”

“I’m not familiar with the rules,” Castiel said.

Dean raised an eyebrow at her.  “There aren’t any rules.  Try to knock the puck into the other person’s goal.  Stay on your own side of the table.  Easy.”

Castiel looked skeptical, so Dean glanced around.  There was a free table to their left, and she jerked her head in that direction.  “Come on,” she said.  “On me.”

She fed a couple of quarters into the slot and the table hummed to life.  The mallets were in the middle, but the goal at her end was empty.  “Check your goal,” she said, waving Cas at the other end.  “The pocket under the table.”

Castiel held up the plastic disc like she had no idea what they were going to do with it, despite the fact that she’d been watching Becky and Jesse play for several minutes.  “Throw it on the table,” Dean said.  “If it’s on my side, I get to hit it.  If it’s on yours, it’s all you.”

She did as she was told, and Dean leaned forward to slap the puck back.  Castiel was fast and nowhere near as clueless as she occasionally looked.  She blocked reflexively, returned fire with a cool calculation that reminded Dean she studied physics, and probably would have won her first game if Dean didn’t accuse her of fouling the puck off her fingertips.

Castiel frowned.  “That wasn’t in the rules,” she said, and Dean slapped the puck into her goal.

Dean grinned at her.  “Sorry.  Go again?”

They did.  Rachel watched with a sort of interest that made Dean think she wanted to play, but she waited until Cas looked slightly less intent.  It was hilarious to watch her study the table like she could make it chess or something.  When she started to ease up, Dean offered, “You guys want to play?”

Castiel’s gaze flicked to her, and Dean wasn’t fast enough to pull her mallet back when the puck came flying toward her corner of the table.  It must have bounced twice because it slammed into her mallet from behind and ricocheted into her own goal.  She didn’t even realize what had happened until she heard it clattering down into the table.

Dean blinked.  “Nice shot,” she said, fishing the puck out.

“It’s a matter of vectors,” Castiel remarked.  She looked like she wanted to smile.

“Uh-huh,” Dean said, holding out her mallet to Rachel.  “Want to try?”

The look Rachel gave her was nothing compared to the look she gave Castiel.

“Okay,” Dean said.  “So, is that a sister thing?  That –”  She waved back and forth between the two of them.  “Is that about us, when you do that?  Or is it totally about you?”

Now Castiel was looking at her, and her stare was just as intense as it had been for Rachel.  So, maybe not a sister thing?

“I don’t know what that means,” she said at last.

Dean opened her mouth before she realized that any effort to get actual answers would probably make everyone else think they were crazy.  She wasn’t against that in principle, but in practice it probably wasn’t worth it.  Especially when there wasn’t any alcohol.

“Tell you later,” Dean said, flipping her mallet to Rachel.

Rachel caught it with one hand, and Castiel was frowning.  “There is no point to us playing this game,” she said.

“No point except that it’s fun,” Dean agreed.  “You play, Rachel?”

“No,” Rachel said.

“I mean,” Castiel said, “there is no point to me playing this game with Rachel.”

“Okay,” Dean said, eyeing her.  “Suit yourself.  You want anything else to eat?  Becky’s probably gonna drag us back into the laser tag arena when she and Jesse are done, so.”

Castiel and Rachel did that thing where they stared at each other again, and then Rachel held out her hand.  The only thing Dean had that Rachel would want was the puck, so she handed it over.  Rachel tossed it onto the table and Castiel snapped it back.  Rachel deflected it like she’d been playing Cas the whole time instead of just watching her and Dean.

They went back and forth like that for several seconds, and Dean smiled.

They kept going.  It didn’t take long for Dean’s smile to fade.  The way they mirrored each other was freaky: Castiel countered every shot Rachel made, and Rachel did the same for her.  It was like they each knew what the other would do before they did it, except it wasn’t, because even if they did there were still variables like reaction time and muscle control and inexperience.

Inexperience.  Seriously.  They’d never even played this game before, let alone against each other, and they looked like the entire thing was choreographed.  More than just knowing what was going to happen, they looked like they’d practiced what was going to happen.  A hundred times.

Jesse was watching from the next table over.  Becky turned around just as the table Rachel and Castiel were using ran out of money and the air shut off.  She must have seen something, though, because she exclaimed, “Wow, you guys are really good!  You must have played before!”

“Castiel has,” Rachel said.  She looked at Dean when she said it.  “I hadn’t until now.”

“Well, you’re a natural,” Becky decided.  “You should play Jesse!  She’s so much better than I am, we don’t even belong at the same table.  In fact, I think I’m going to get another drink.  Does anyone else want anything?”

Dean didn’t know what “drink” was code for at a teenage hangout like this, but it was probably way less exciting than what she was imagining.  They watched Becky leave, and she saw Jesse wave a puck in Rachel’s direction.  Rachel not only took her up on it, but also supplied the quarters.

Rachel was supposed to be the social one, Dean reminded herself.  The rest of the world thought Cas was odd sister.

“Are you enjoying your evening?” Castiel asked.  She was awkwardly polite and there was no reason for it.  Dean didn’t care about making friends or blending in and she was pretty sure Castiel didn’t either.

She leaned in under the pretense of not hearing.  “Want to tell me what that was about?” she asked instead.  Rachel and Jesse played like any other college girls.  Well, maybe a little more competitive than Becky.  Nothing like the weird resonance between Rachel and Cas.

Castiel considered that.  “I’m told we demonstrate some twin-like qualities,” she said at last.

Dean raised an eyebrow.  “You and Rachel?” she asked.  Because, yeah.  Okay.  She could see that.

“All my siblings,” Castiel said quietly.

Dean looked at her.  “All your – you all do that?”

Castiel hesitated, and Dean wondered if they should be having this conversation here.  Not that she knew what the conversation was about, but that was part of the problem.  If she couldn’t see it coming, who knew what weird thing might sneak up on her.

“When we engage each other,” Castiel said carefully, “as Rachel and I did, just now… the outcome is often predetermined.”

Dean had no idea what that was supposed to mean.  She didn’t even know if she was supposed to know.  Castiel hadn’t started this conversation, after all.

Well, she’d started a conversation.  Just not necessarily this one.

“Are you all,” Dean began.  It was the closest thing she could come up with, so she tapped her temple and gave Castiel a questioning look.

Castiel nodded.

“Huh,” Dean said.  “Well.  That’s cool, I guess.  I mean, you must be used to it, so maybe it doesn’t seem like anything to you.  But I gotta tell you, it’s pretty wild to watch.”

Castiel was staring at her, and she couldn’t not ask.  “Okay, but the staring thing.  That’s not just you and Rachel either.”

It made Castiel frown.  Dean thought it had come out a little weird, but whatever.  They were standing next to an air hockey table at the Space Center, which Dean was pretty sure no self-respecting adult set foot in without a child in tow, and this was Friday night with Christian girls.  It didn’t suck.  It also didn’t make a lot of sense.

“What staring thing?” Castiel asked after a moment.

Dean laughed out loud, because of course.  Why would psychics notice they were staring.  They were probably thinking at each other or something.  She had to assume they did it; she just hadn’t figured they did it all the time.  But why wouldn’t they?

“Look over there,” Dean said.  She caught Castiel’s shoulder and nodded in the direction of the food.  “Look at – Becky.  Or anyone, really, but Becky’s fine.  What’s she doing?”

“She appears to be conversing with someone,” Castiel said.

“Count how many times she looks away,” Dean said.

Castiel didn’t say anything, just watched.  Unblinking.  Dean had to smile.  Maybe Cas just did that; who knew.  Some people stared.  Maybe Rachel had picked it up from her.  Rachel only did it with Cas, so maybe.

Dean turned back to the table Rachel was sharing with Jesse, surprised by the revelation: Rachel only did it with Cas.  Unfortunately, while she was playing air hockey Rachel didn’t demonstrate normal social interaction for anyone.  Dean stared at her anyway, because didn’t that answer her question?

It wasn’t a Rachel and Cas thing.  It was just a Cas thing.

“What is the point of this exercise?” Castiel asked at last, and Dean swung around.  Castiel was still staring – at Becky – and that had to answer the rest of the question.  It was a Cas and anyone thing.

“Nothing,” Dean said at last.  “Just – you look at people for a really long time, sometimes.  I wondered if that was, like, a family thing or something.”  And by “family” she meant “psychic,” because she could almost make that make sense in her head, but apparently not.  Right?

“If you’re referring to the intensity of my social interaction,” Castiel said, finally looking away from Becky, “then yes.  I am aware.  It’s not me and Rachel, because Rachel has trained herself not to do it.  I don’t see the point.”

“Sorry,” Dean said hastily.  She did feel kind of bad.  Castiel had been nothing but nice to her, and here she was pointing out all the ways her roommate was weird.  “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You have no need to apologize,” Castiel said, scrutinizing her.  “Your questions are helpful to me.  I don’t dislike them, if that’s what has made you uncomfortable.”

“The intensity of your social interaction,” Dean repeated.  Because she could, and she didn’t get Cas at all but that did kind of describe it.  “You mean the weird way you talk?”

She’d kind of meant it to be a joke, but she could tell just from looking at Castiel that it hadn’t been received that way.

“That was a joke,” Dean said.  “I mean, it was supposed to be a joke.”

Castiel tilted her head, but her expression had softened and her next observation didn’t sound as much like an accusation as it might have.  “I think you are kinder than you want people to think you are.”

“Hey, now, no reason to insult me,” Dean said.

Castiel didn’t blink.

Even when Dean added, “If you tell anyone, I’ll pretend I don’t know you,” which was ridiculous and shouldn’t feel at all like sharing a secret.  She smiled without meaning to, though, and Castiel smiled back.

They watched Rachel and Jesse play out another few games.  She thought about asking Cas to play again, but it was easier to just stand there and for once she was fine with that.  Even when Becky came back and started talking about another round of laser tag, which sounded fine to her, and Jesse wandered off to play arcade games instead.

Laser tag was good.  It was easy, and fun, and when Becky made noise about partnering again Castiel informed her that she and Dean would be playing together.  “To assure that neither of our scores are falsified,” she said, sounding exactly like someone who took the game way too seriously.

“Oh, of course!” Becky exclaimed, because if there was anyone willing to humor crazy people, it was Becky.  “I can see why that would be important!”

Dean didn’t know if Becky and Rachel stuck together in the second game or not.  She did know that her final score was a lot closer to Castiel’s than it had been the first time, and also that they were having a rematch.  Possibly several rematches, if it took her that long to get the hang of racking up extra points.  Castiel didn’t argue, but she did insist on paying for Dean’s dessert when Becky went off to find Jesse and ended up planted in front of one of the games herself.

“Is this an important part of the competitive process?” Rachel asked, eyeing Dean’s ice cream.

“Ice cream?” Dean asked.  She bit into the top of the cone and did her best not to smirk at Castiel’s sister.

“The…”  Rachel waved at her inexpressively.  “Exchanging of favors after a loss.  Or victory.”

Dean was well aware that she wasn’t asking Cas, despite the fact that Castiel had actually done the buying this time.  Rachel really didn’t expect her to know anything?  Not even, like, why she was doing the things she did?

“I guess,” Dean said with a shrug.  “If you like the person you’re competing against, probably.  To show there’s no hard feelings?”

“I see,” Rachel said.  Like she hadn’t until now.

Then Castiel asked her about one of her math classes, and it was so normal that Dean tuned it out instantly.  She got enough of that listening to Sam talk.  She wasn’t memorizing four new people’s problems just because they were kind of creative and very inclusive in their Friday night party plans.

Becky and Jesse did eventually leave the arcade on their own.  Not before the conversation included something about a physics lab, which had to be Castiel’s, and Dean told herself that she wasn’t surprised when the two of them asked to be dropped off at the library on their way back to campus.  “Yeah, sure,” she said, because wherever.

But then Becky said, “Oh, I’m not sure the library is open this late; you know they close early on Fridays and Saturdays.”

“Ours is open,” Rachel said.  Headed for one of the content branches, maybe, instead of the main building?

“Are you sure?” Becky insisted.  “We could wait for you while you run up and check.  In fact, we could wait even if they are open – are you just picking something up?”

“No,” Rachel said, and Dean was watching her in the mirror.  Becky had ridden up front on their way to the Space Center, supposedly to give directions, but Jesse had called shotgun on the way back and watching Rachel sit between the two extremes of Becky and Castiel was still funny.

“We’ll be a while,” Rachel was saying.  “We’ll walk back; don’t worry.”

“Well, maybe you could call one of us,” Becky said.  “I’m sure Dean or Jesse wouldn’t mind giving you a ride.”

Dean was sure they would, actually.  She was going to bed as soon as they got back, and anyone who called her after she closed her eyes had better have a damn good reason.  She glanced over at Jesse to find a similar expression on her face.

“Doesn’t the shuttle run all night?” Jesse asked.

“Oh, you could take the shuttle!” Becky exclaimed.

“We’ll be fine,” Rachel said, even as Castiel climbed out of the car.  “Thanks for the ride, Dean.  Thanks for the idea, Becky; it was fun.”

“Yes,” Castiel’s voice said from somewhere outside.  “I had fun.”

It didn’t sound entirely convincing, coming from her, but Dean saw Becky beam in the backseat.  “All right, well, let us know if you need anything,” she said.  “See you tomorrow!”

Even Jesse mumbled “good night,” so Dean did the same.  They left Castiel and Rachel at the head of the library path, looking less weird as the car pulled away and they became just two more anonymous students on the sidewalk.  Headed to the library, Dean thought.  She’d have to tell Sam about this.  More late-night library-goers with whom to commiserate over bad hours and the sad state of travel mugs.

When she woke up in the dark that night, and the clock said two-thirty while the light from the clock said that Castiel’s bed was still empty, Dean wondered what could possibly be that interesting.  She actually considered calling to see if Cas was okay, until she remembered that Cas didn’t have a phone and it wasn’t any of her business anyway.

The next time she opened her eyes, someone was knocking on the door.  It was light, and when she rolled over two things were obvious.  One, her alarm would go off in three minutes anyway.  It was eight-twenty-seven on Saturday morning and she wasn’t planning to be at work until ten.  She would yell at whoever had woken her up in principle, but it could have been worse.

Two, there was no sign of Castiel.

Dean rolled out of her own bed, avoiding boxes and crates with the care that came from one too many half-conscious crashes.  The knock on the door didn’t come again.  She decided she was going to be even more annoyed if they’d woken her up and then didn’t wait for an answer.

When she opened the door, though, she found Becky standing outside it.  Writing on a post-it note.

“Good morning,” Becky whispered.  It was more quiet than Dean had ever heard her.  So, hey, they did know what weekends were around here.  “I was just leaving you a note – I totally forgot to get your move-in papers; do you have those lying around somewhere?  I’m sorry to bother you so early, it’s just that they were technically due yesterday –”

“Yeah,” Dean said, and her voice was too rough.  “Morning,” she added.  She probably shouldn’t chew out the person who’d signed off on her getting half of Castiel’s room, no matter how early it was.  “They’re on the bureau; just a second.”

She left the door open without thinking, and of course Becky looked around.  “No Cassie this morning?” she asked.

“She gets up early,” Dean said vaguely.  Castiel’s bed was still made, so who knew if she’d even come back last night.  Dean’s money was on “no.”

“But she and Rachel got back okay?” Becky said.

“Yeah,” Dean said, shuffling through the stuff she’d dumped on top of her bureau since Monday.  Hopefully Castiel and Rachel didn’t turn up in trouble somewhere and prove her wrong.  “Pretty sure.”

The room agreement and code of conduct were on the bottom of the pile, which made them easier to find than anything else.  “Here you go,” she said, carrying the papers back to the door.  “Sorry I forgot to get them to you.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Becky assured her.  “I’ll turn them in today; it won’t be a problem.  I guess you haven’t had much time to unpack, huh?”

Dean looked around the room.  It was clearly divided down the middle because Dean’s boxes were stacked to the edge of her empty bureau and clustered around her bed and desk.  Castiel’s side was clean and clear in a way that only someone who didn’t live there should be able to manage.

“Not really,” she muttered.  She should talk to Cas about the room.  She should talk to Nick about the apartment.  If she was going to look for another place, the only day she could do it was tomorrow, and after that it would be another week.  She wasn’t ready to look, but she couldn’t afford to wait.

“Well, if you need any help, let me know,” Becky told her.  “Have a good day!”

“Yeah,” Dean said, frowning at the door.  Why didn’t they have a message board?  No one should have to knock on someone else’s door this early.  “You too.”

She managed not to run into anyone she knew at breakfast.  Her luck was going to run out eventually, and she thought she should really buy some groceries so she didn’t have to keep going out.  The problem was that then she would need somewhere to keep the groceries, and she’d done her best to stay out of the Lighthouse kitchen since she moved in.  Any of the building’s common areas, really.  It wasn’t hers; she and Castiel were just mutual stopgap measures to keep worse things out of each other’s lives.

Work was easy, at least.  The garage wasn’t open on the weekends, not to the public, but the guys came in to work on their own stuff sometimes.  Jack was in one of the bays making noise most of the morning.  He brought her coffee when he realized she was out back, and he apologized for the air compressor, both of which were above and beyond.

She was the only woman working at the garage, but she wasn’t the youngest and mostly they treated her like anyone else.  She was pretty sure that if Josh had been out back, he would have gotten coffee too.  Jack was nicest to the student workers.

When she got back to the Lighthouse after work she took a step through the door and stopped.

Castiel was sitting on her bed.  Reading.

“Do you do that every day?” Dean blurted out.

Castiel eyed her curiously.  “Read?” she asked.  “When I can.”

“No, just –”  Dean finally closed the door.  “You’re always gone when I get up, and you’re always here when I get back.  It’s –”  She managed to stop herself just before “weird” came out of her mouth.  Castiel was allowed to have a schedule.  Dean was the new variable in her life.

“I suppose I have a routine,” Castiel said after a moment.  “Does it bother you?”

“No,” Dean said quickly.  “Geez, no, you can do whatever you want.  It just surprised me to, uh, see you.  I guess.”

“I see.”

Castiel didn’t look like that was true, but Dean didn’t even know what she was trying to say, so.  Castiel waited briefly before looking back at her book.  As far as Dean could tell, she’d gone back to reading.

“Actually, I, uh –”  Dean still had no idea what she was doing, but she had to do something.  Time kept passing.  “I wanted to talk to you.”

Castiel had looked up as soon as she started to speak.  She didn’t answer, and Dean figured that was fair.  Castiel was weird and Dean couldn’t seem to stop pointing it out.  She was also remarkably easy to get along with, and that was worth a lot.

“Here’s the thing,” Dean said.  “I gave my room agreement and stuff to Becky this morning.  I mean, she asked for them,” she added.  “And I gave ’em to her.”

Castiel just nodded, and Dean didn’t know whether that was good or bad.

“So I figured I should talk to you,” Dean said.  “About, you know.  Staying here.  I know we said it would just be for a week, and I’m totally cool with that if you want me gone.  Your room, your call, right?”

“You turned in a room agreement,” Castiel pointed out.  “I believe that makes it your room also.”

“Well, yeah,” Dean said.  “But you were here first.  And Nick hasn’t said anything about the lease, so I still don’t know if he’s gonna roll with it or if he’s just waiting for me to come back.”

“He visited you last night in a room you’re clearly living in,” Castiel said.  “It seems like that would have been the time to say something.”

“Spoken like a rational person,” Dean said.  “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Nick and I don’t always fall into that category.  Especially when we’re together.”

Castiel frowned at her.  “You feel that you behave irrationally around Nick?”

She wasn’t having this conversation.  “I feel that now isn’t a great time to be looking for a new apartment, that’s how I feel.  But I will if you want me to.  You really helped me out this week, you know, and I don’t want you to be stuck with my shit just ’cause I can’t get it together.”

“I don’t want you to look for a new apartment,” Castiel said.  She sound more puzzled than polite, and yeah, Dean didn’t expect Cas to lie to her.  She hadn’t even realized how easy that made her to talk to until now.  “The longer you stay here, the more I benefit.  I have no desire for a new roommate.”

That was refreshingly honest.  Dean dropped her bag on her desk, wondering if she was going to win that bet with Sam after all.  “So, how come you and Rachel aren’t roommates?” she asked.

Castiel didn’t complain about the change of topic, or the question, but she did seem to think about it before she answered.  “Our opportunities to interact with others are increased if we stay in different rooms,” she said.  “Or so – our family believes.”

Castiel didn’t seem thrilled about it, but in the way that she hadn’t seem thrilled about Meg: distant and disapproving, but not invested.  Like the decision didn’t have anything to do with her.  Like she would put up with whatever other people decided on her behalf.

Dean wasn’t going to lecture anyone about family independence, so she asked, “How come Rachel got the single?  Seems like she’s a little more into socializing than you.”

“Yes,” Castiel said.  “That is one of the mysteries of our situation.”

Dean waited, but that was all she said.

“So it’s cool if I stay here,” Dean said at last.

“Stay as long as you want,” Castiel said.  “I find you easier to understand than most people on this campus.”

Dean got the feeling that this wasn’t saying much, but she had to smile.  “I hear you.  You rock the straight talk thing.  Speaking of, can we get a message board for the door?  Becky knocked this morning at, like, eight o’clock.  I’m not saying having a message board would have stopped her, but she would have been a lot easier to ignore if she could have left a note.”

Castiel lowered her book.  “Is that the purpose of a message board?  I thought it was so people could leave instructions when I’m not here.”

“No,” Dean said.  “It’s so you don’t have to talk to them when you are here.”

“Ah.”  Castiel looked amused, so she must have gotten it.  “In that case, yes.  I support the acquisition of a message board.  Where do we get one?”

Dean shrugged.  “Depends if you want an actual whiteboard or not.  Sam just laminated a big sheet of paper; you could write the great American novel on there and still have room for a phone number.”  She didn’t add that the “big sheet of paper” was actually wrapping paper, which made the whole thing way too arty for Dean.

“Do we want an actual whiteboard?” Castiel asked.

Dean shrugged again.  “Paper’s cheaper,” she said.  “Plus, the more they can write, the less they have to say to us, right?”

It made Castiel smile.  “Perhaps we should cover the entire door.”

Dean pointed at her.  “I like the way you think.  I’m gonna go get some groceries or something; I’ll get some stuff while I’m out.  You want anything?”

“No, thank you,” Castiel said.  She picked up her book again, apparently considering the conversation over.

It was another Star Trek novel, Dean noticed.  Not the same one she’d been reading on Thursday.  She was tempted to ask if Castiel had finished it, but hey.  Conversation over.  She could take a hint.  She’d just gotten a place to stay for the rest of the semester; she didn’t have to be the annoying roommate who wouldn’t shut up.

On the other hand, this was Castiel.  Could she shut up around her?

Can you read my mind all the time? she thought.  She tried to make it as clear as she could.

She didn’t expect it to work, which made the way Castiel responded even more creepy.

“Yes,” the other girl said without looking up.

“Okay,” Dean said, even though she probably didn’t have to.  “That’s a little creepy.”

“It’s not as helpful as you might think,” Castiel said, still staring down at her book.  “Most people don’t think in words very often, and the rest is difficult to sort into coherent or relevant impressions.”

“Huh,” Dean said.  Because she felt like that deserved a response, but she had no idea what it was.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking now, for example.”

Dean snorted.  “Neither do I,” she said.  “That’s pretty… clear, I guess.”

Castiel finally lifted her gaze.  “I expected you to ask before now,” she said.

“You already know my biggest secret,” Dean said.  “Can’t think of anything else you shouldn’t hear about.  I was just wondering how much it drives you crazy.  It’s gotta be hard to tell people to shut up when they’re not actually talking.”

Castiel tilted her head.  “I don’t find it troubling,” she said.  “No more than background conversation bothers you.”

“You’re used to it,” Dean said.

“Of course,” Castiel agreed.

That was all she said.

Just like that, Dean thought.  Leave it alone.

So she turned back to her side of the room and realized she had no idea where her grocery bags were.  Other than “somewhere in here.”  With the rest of her stuff.  “I should really unpack,” she said aloud.

It was an idle remark, but Castiel responded anyway.  “It might make it easier to find things.”

Something about it made Dean smile.  She shoved one stack of boxes back far enough that she could open her bureau, then opened whatever she knew had clothes in it.  Her stuff was already a mess and she didn’t really have time for this, so she just dumped anything wearable into drawers until they were filled and tossed the empty boxes on her bed.  This meant that a lot of the stuff that had been wrapped in clothes also ended up in the bureau, but hey.  At least it was off the floor.

“On second thought,” Castiel said, watching her haphazard method of unpacking.  “Perhaps not.”

“It’s out of the way,” Dean said.  “And I can give the boxes back once I empty them.”

“You’re free to do as you like,” Castiel said.  “I didn’t mean to indicate that you should defend your actions.”

Dean laughed, mostly because it was so unexpected.  And Castiel thought she was nice?  Cas might be weird and blunt and sort of stranger-in-a-strange-land most of the time, but she obviously wasn’t out to offend anyone.  “Cas, no one could defend my actions.  I’m just trying to convince myself it’s worth doing anything at this point.”

Castiel didn’t answer.  She wasn’t reading when Dean glanced over, just watching.  Dean decided she might as well empty the rest of Lenore’s boxes, since her clothes had mostly been in Sam’s.  Sam wouldn’t care about getting them back until the end of the semester.  She’d already pushed her crates under her bed, and she kicked the bags under there with them.  It wasn’t technically unpacking, but at least it got stuff out of the way.

Except for the boxes on her bed.

“You could put the empty boxes in the closet,” Castiel offered.  “Until the next time Sam comes over.”

“Yeah?” Dean asked.  “Is there room?”

When she pulled the door open, the question answered itself.  The closet was empty.

“Yes,” Castiel said.  Like it wasn’t obvious.

Dean looked around the room, just to make sure she hadn’t missed anything.  Castiel’s desk had books piled on it, but that was it.  The top of her bureau was completely clear.  “Why don’t you have any stuff?” she wanted to know.  It probably wasn’t the most tactful thing she could have said, but Castiel hadn’t gotten mad about her mouth yet.

Castiel didn’t look like she even understood the question.  “I do have stuff,” she said.

“Right,” Dean said skeptically.  “But not here.”

 Castiel frowned.  “What more do you expect me to have?”

Dean opened her mouth, but she hadn’t she just dumped all of her stuff in the back of someone else’s car and then basically shoved it under the bed?  “I don’t know,” she said.  “I guess it’s stupid.  Forget I asked.”

She put the boxes in the closet, and hey, at least there’d be room for –

“A coat,” she said suddenly.  “Where’s your coat?”

“In my bureau,” Castiel said.

Well, it was hard to argue with that.  Except that the whole reason people kept coats in closets was because they took up too much space in drawers.  If Castiel’s coat was in there, how much other stuff wasn’t?

Dean eyed her, but she was dressed well enough.  Better than Dean, if it came to that.  Her jeans didn’t have holes in them, and her button-down was fresh and not worn-looking.  Dean couldn’t really remember what she’d had on the rest of the week, but she thought she would have noticed if Castiel wore the same thing all the time.

Maybe she’d have noticed.

“Okay,” Dean said.  Like it was any of her business what Castiel had, anyway.  “Well, I’m gonna go.  See you later.”

The thought that she might not made her stop.  “Actually, the sleeping thing.  You don’t have to tell me where you sleep, but do you want me to say it’s here?  Becky asked this morning,” she added.  There were plenty of things she was curious about – she might as well pass off what she could to other people.

Castiel didn’t look any less confused.  “Where I sleep?” she repeated.

“You don’t sleep here,” Dean said.  “There’s no way anyone is that quiet, and seriously, your pillow’s been lopsided ever since I tossed a book on it three days ago.  If you use your bed for anything other than reading, you don’t get under the covers.”

Castiel seemed uncertain about this.  “I’m usually with Rachel,” she said at last.  “At night.  It’s not always convenient to… return here.”

Dean stared at her.  It wasn’t convenient to walk across the hall?  Rachel did have a single, didn’t she?  Dean hadn’t seen it, but Rachel never complained about a roommate and none had been introduced to Dean.  Castiel hadn’t corrected her when she mentioned it earlier.  How big a bed could she fit in a single room?

Also, who slept with their sister?

“I’m guessing you don’t sleep on the floor,” Dean said, just to make sure.

“No,” Castiel said.

“Okay,” Dean said.  She should probably ask, but she needed a break.  Castiel was odd but nice, not to mention unreasonably accommodating, and there were things Dean didn’t need to know.  “So, I’ll tell people you sleep here.”

“That would be appreciated,” Castiel said after a moment.  She was frowning, and Dean deliberately didn’t think anything in sentence form.  Just easy, whatever, live and let live.  She had enough problems of her own without feeding more drama.

At least she’d found her grocery bags while she was stuffing things in the bureau.  She shoved them into her backpack and swung it over her shoulder.  “Later, Cas.”

Castiel watched her go without saying anything.

She couldn’t not think about it, of course, but she could try to do it when she wasn’t around Castiel.  On her way to the grocery store she tried to remember exactly what Castiel had said about Rachel.  Her sister, knew everything about her, so on and so forth.  She’d explicitly denied that they were together, hadn’t she?  Or had Dean just heard that because she’d been expecting it?

Castiel had been surprised that Dean was uncomfortable with the idea.  That she remembered.

There could be any number of non-weird reasons for sisters sleeping together, Dean reminded herself.  Maybe they’d had some sort of terrible childhood.  Maybe one of them had been abused, had nightmares, went sleepwalking.  Maybe one of them had a medical condition, who knew.

Maybe they’d just been crowded when they were kids and they’d gotten used to it.  She and Sam had shared a bed often enough, and that didn’t mean anything.  She should probably do herself a favor and mind her own business.

Yeah, because she was so good at that.

She should have asked someone how the kitchen worked before she went out to get food, but it was too late by the time she was at the store and all she really wanted was frozen waffles and some orange juice.  She was already tired of having to walk for breakfast everyday.

She got chips, too, because she hadn’t had chips since last weekend, and she got dinner so she wouldn’t have to go out again tonight.  She had way too much writing to do for that damn composition class.  Plus she was planning to take tomorrow off – totally off – so all her weekend studying was going to have to fit into tonight.

Dean wished the Lighthouse a silent fuck you when she walked down the beer aisle, but she didn’t buy any.

There wasn’t anyone in the kitchen when she got back.  She’d passed Meredith in the lounge, but the kitchen labeling system turned out to be simpler than she’d expected.  She found dishes, silverware, and lots of sharpies.  There was a sign on the refrigerator that said, “No name, fair game,” and underneath in smaller letters: “Please label everything you store in the kitchen.”

So she took a sharpie to the waffles and the juice, figured maybe half of each would be left by tomorrow, and went back upstairs.

Castiel was still there, which surprised her a little.  She didn’t think she’d seen Castiel more than once a day since she’d moved in.  Of course it helped that she didn’t actually sleep there, but Dean wasn’t thinking about that.

“Chips?” she offered, holding up the bag.

Castiel gave her an odd look, but she said “yes” so Dean tore the thing open and offered it to her.  Castiel seemed surprised.  She only took one, which seemed weird for someone who didn’t have any trouble sharing their opinion: if she hadn’t wanted any, why didn’t she just say so?

“Help yourself,” Dean said, taking a handful and dropping the bag on her bed.  She flipped the desk light on, pulled out her notebook, and started opening books.  Being faced with things that were at least vaguely relevant might help her stay on track.

Her pen ran out after an hour and a half.  It was so stupid, she wasn’t even writing that much.  Mostly she was staring at the words and wondering how much her mom would sigh if Dean called her to complain about how bad the translations were.  Except that every so often there was something she wouldn’t have thought of if she hadn’t had to explain it in writing and she hadn’t noticed how long it was taking.  The windows had gone dark while she wasn’t paying attention.

“Hey, Cas,” she said, turning around.

Castiel hadn’t moved either.  Or, if she had, she’d returned to exactly the same position she’d been in when Dean got out her books.  Which was bizarre enough that Dean looked at the clock again, just to make sure she wasn’t wrong about how much time had passed.

She wasn’t.

“Yes?” Castiel asked, when she didn’t say anything.  She sounded normal.

“Uh, can I borrow a pen?”  She had more pens, somewhere, but if they were even in the desk it was only luck.  She really wasn’t in the mood to go looking.

“Of course.”  Castiel set her book down and got up like she’d just sat down.  Like it was no effort at all to walk over to her desk, pull out a pen, and hand it to Dean.  Which, okay, it shouldn’t be that hard, but Dean’s shoulder twinged when she reached out to take it and her elbow ached from resting it on the desk.  No way would she look that graceful if she got up now.

Which is why you should, she reminded herself.  Get up, eat something, geez.

“Thanks,” she said, putting the pen down next to hers and stretching.  “Hey, what’s the rule about the dishes downstairs?  Can we borrow ’em?  You know, bring ’em up to our rooms?”  She had plates, too, but she knew for a fact those were under the bed.  Not worth it.

“As long as you wash what you use, you’re free to do whatever you like with them.”

“Anything?” Dean repeated, too amused that Castiel sounded like she was quoting to remember that she shouldn’t make dirty jokes to people who lived in the Lighthouse.  Then she did remember, but hey, it wasn’t like she’d gotten very far.

“Anything…”  Castiel hesitated, and Dean wondered just how language-dependent her telepathy really was.  “Food-related,” she said, but she smiled a little.  “Within reason.”

“Right,” Dean said.  She was gonna be the bigger person and walk away.  “Want anything from downstairs?”

“No,” Castiel replied, watching her curiously.  “Thank you.”

She got a plate from the kitchen, because it would be easier to eat her sandwich if she didn’t have to deal with the entire wrapper on her desk.  It was later than she wanted it to be, considering how much reading she still had to do.  And she hadn’t given any thought to her outline for Epigraphy.

Castiel was putting on her coat when she got back to the room.

“Stay warm,” Dean told her.  The automatic urge to ask where she was headed was balanced by the reminder that Cas didn’t answer to her.  She couldn’t treat her new roommate like her old boyfriend just because she was that used to living with someone.

“Yes,” Castiel said, which made no sense but was sort of funny.  “Good luck with your studies.”

Dean lifted her water bottle in Castiel’s direction.  “See you.”

Tomorrow, she added silently.

Castiel smiled, and Dean almost laughed when she realized.  “You got that,” she said.

“Tomorrow is more likely than tonight,” Castiel agreed.  “But I’ll be back for church in the morning.”

Dean groaned.  “Oh, I didn’t even think of that.  I bet they bang on doors for that, too.”

“Yes,” Castiel repeated.  “I’m sure they’ll refrain if you ask them not to.”

“I’m not going to church,” Dean warned her.  “I don’t care how loud they knock.”

Castiel only nodded.  “Understood.”

She couldn’t help noticing that Castiel didn’t take a bag with her when she left.

Dean took a break an hour later to wash and return her plate, throw away the wrapper from her sandwich – her trash can was under her bed and filled with towels – and call Sam.  Not because she felt like talking, but because not calling Sam meant she’d have Sam at her door by the end of the weekend.  Which was fine, she loved Sam, whatever.  She just preferred their visits to be more like fun and less like an intervention.

She didn’t get through all her reading.  She’d probably have to hit one of the clusters to type up her comp stuff, but she thought she could get away with handing in her Epigraphy outline the way it was.  Computers weren’t great at ancient languages.  Added bonus: professors who taught ancient languages weren’t always impressed by computers.

Anyway, the outline was done and that was the important part.  She went to bed with big plans to do nothing all Sunday long.

Castiel hadn’t been kidding about the knocking.  Dean didn’t know why she’d thought –

The sound of movement made her open her eyes, and she blinked in barely-conscious surprise as Castiel pulled the door open a few inches.  Dean heard her whisper, “I’ll be right out.”

Someone in the hallway whispered back, “Is Dean asleep?”

Castiel looked over her shoulder and caught Dean’s eye.  Dean just stared at her.  It was the first time she’d seen Castiel in the morning, and of course she would look the same as she always did.  Even her hair was the same.

“She’s not going to church,” Castiel whispered.  She was talking through the crack in the door again.  “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

When she closed the door, Dean wanted to care enough to sit up.  She didn’t.  “Thanks,” she mumbled, pulling the blanket closer around her shoulder.  “Have fun at church.”

Maybe Castiel didn’t keep clothes in Rachel’s room after all.  She might have come back here to change.  Hell, if she was that quiet, she might be doing it every morning.  Just because Dean hadn’t seen her sleep didn’t mean she hadn’t been in the room at all.

Probably she just didn’t want to be seen leaving from Rachel’s room, though.

It wasn’t until Dean woke up a second time that she realized Castiel must be seen leaving Rachel’s room every morning.  Right?  No matter how careful they were, there were thirteen other people living in this house.  Someone was bound to see them eventually.

Nothing to do with you, she reminded herself.

She microwaved a couple of waffles for breakfast about an hour before she met Sam for lunch.  It didn’t surprise her that Castiel hadn’t come back after church.  It did kind of surprise her that the rest of the house was so empty, though.  Maybe there were after-church activities?

Dean took the opportunity to study the chore list.  She’d discovered it completely by accident the day before and she wondered why no one had told her it was in the kitchen.  She wondered why no one had told her they’d added her name to the list.  But most of all, she wondered why the chore next to her name was already checked off.

Some kind of welcome to the house, maybe?  This seemed like the kind of place where they’d do that.  And it wasn’t like she wanted to clean out the refrigerator, but if they asked her to she wasn’t against it or anything.  The other stuff on the list was just as hard, if not harder, and half of those things were checked off too.  She’d have to keep an eye on the list and see when it turned over.

Sam met her at the dining hall in track pants and a sweatshirt, which Dean took great pleasure in mocking her for.  No matter how late Sam got up, she still rolled out of bed and headed straight for the gym.  Dean had given up on joining her when she moved off campus: full-time students had 24-hour access, but parking wasn’t worth it and their schedules just weren’t that compatible.

She and Nick had done their workouts in the evening until this past week.

Sam was headed back to her computer after lunch, and Dean’s plan to do nothing was going great until she found everyone gathered in the Lighthouse lounge when she got back.  Lenore was close enough to the door that Dean could call hello from the hall without wading in.  Lenore waved her in anyway.  Of course.

Dean moved closer to the door, unwilling to commit.  She could hear Becky’s voice even if she couldn’t pick her out.  She couldn’t see Jesse at all, which meant two things: one, this activity was not mandatory.  Two, whatever was going on wasn’t interesting enough to get Jesse involved.  Dean wasn’t sure when she’d started using Jesse as a standard, but she was pretty sure that if Jesse didn’t like it, she wasn’t going to like it either.

“What’s going on?” she asked Lenore.  She caught sight of Rachel, over near the kitchen door, and she nodded in her direction.  Rachel responded by heading straight for her, which was a little unnerving.

“Apple picking,” Lenore said.  She said it like people just said these things, which was kind of cute and also a nice change from Becky’s overwhelming enthusiasm.  “We’re just trying to divide people up into cars.  Are you coming?”

“No,” Dean said.  And she knew she shouldn’t, but Lenore was nice and it seemed polite to soften that a little.  “Where are you headed?”

“Oak Hill Farm,” Lenore said.  “They have apple picking and cider and pies and things.  And it’s a great day for it.”

She’d give them that.  “This a house field trip?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” Lenore said with a smile.  “We have activities every Sunday.  It gives everyone a break from studying.  You should come; it’ll be fun.  We’ll only be there a couple of hours.”

“Hello, Dean,” Rachel said.  “Are you coming to the farm?”

“I was just trying to convince her,” Lenore said.  “Where’s Cassie?  Is she coming?”

“She says she has too much to do,” Rachel said, and Dean raised an eyebrow.  Castiel had a lot of labs and a lot of books, but Dean had yet to see her do anything that looked like studying.  “She’s upstairs.”

She saw Lenore move.  When Dean looked over at her it was a little disconcerting to realize they were both watching her.  “What?”

“She might come if you asked her,” Lenore said.  “She likes you.”

Dean frowned.  “I’m not even going; why would I ask her to?”  It was actually better than what she wanted to say, which was why do people keep saying that?  Sam had made fun of her supposed brainwashing at lunch.  She thought Dean had a new “clan.”  Dean thought Sam was trying to get out of the longevity bet.

Tomorrow would be a week, and Sam was going to owe her twenty bucks.

“Because Castiel works too much,” Rachel said.  “She’s done two non-school related things this week, and they were both because of you.  I told her she’d like having a roommate,” she added.

Rachel sounded totally matter-of-fact about it, which was the only reason Dean went for the stairs.  Maybe to hide.  Maybe to see what Cas was doing.  She might be weird, but sometimes Dean thought she was the least creepy person in the building.

Except that when she opened the door, she found Castiel sitting on her bed.  Reading.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said without looking up.  “Rachel tells me you would like me to come apple picking.”

Dean stared at her, not sure what to say first.  “Rachel’s a liar,” she blurted out.  Probably not the best thing to lead with, so she followed it up with, “You can do that even when you can’t see each other?  Also, are you always reading?”

Castiel had looked up as soon as she spoke.  She paused before she replied, “I have a limited amount of discretionary time.  This week, I have chosen to spend it reading.”

Dean frowned, because that was the answer she cared about most but she was pretty sure it hadn’t been the most important one.  “I think Rachel wants you to go with the group downstairs,” she said instead.  “She says you’ll go if I do.”

If Castiel’s face had an expression right then, Dean couldn’t read it.  “And are you going?”

“Hell no,” Dean said.  “This is my day to do nothing.  They’re gonna need a better reason than picking some apples to make me give it up.”

Castiel didn’t answer, and Dean didn’t care.  She was going to lie on her bed, stare at the ceiling, and listen to music until she felt like going for a drive.  Or until she fell asleep, in which case she’d go for a drive when she woke up.  No one messed with her Sunday routine.

Nick had always joined her for it, but she hadn’t missed him yet and she wasn’t going to start now.

She hadn’t admitted that she missed him, anyway.  She was pretty sure.

There was a knock on the door before she could turn the music up.  She glanced at Castiel, who was frowning over her book at the door.  “I’m not here,” Dean told her.

The frown was transferred to her.  “You clearly are,” Castiel said.

“No one’s gonna know that if we don’t open the door,” Dean said.

Castiel’s displeased expression lightened a little, and she totally got it.  But she put her book down anyway and stood up.  “Rachel will,” she said with a sigh.

Dean shrugged, but she waited to start the tape.

Rachel’s stare didn’t stop at Castiel this time.  Her eyes flicked past her sister to Dean, and Dean decided that spreading the glare around made it less effective.  “You’re not joining us,” she said.

“No,” Castiel agreed.

Rachel looked at her again, and Dean didn’t care how much of the conversation was silent except for how she did.  It wasn’t because she was being left out, she told herself.  It was just curiosity.

“Very well,” Rachel said.  It sounded a lot more like Castiel than it did like Rachel, and Dean wondered if their whole family defaulted to formal language when they were uncomfortable… and what that said about them.  Probably a paper in there somewhere.

After the door had closed again, she asked, “You had to do that face to face?”

“It’s expected,” Castiel said.  And hey, was it really discomfort that made them talk like that?  Rachel did seem kind of pissed when she did it, but Castiel just seemed awkward.  All the time.  

Maybe she was always uncomfortable.  Or maybe that was just how she talked, what did Dean know.

“Rachel could hardly announce to the group that I’m not coming after she’d just sent you to retrieve me,” Castiel added.  “And if she is more comfortable with colloquialisms than I, it’s likely because people respond to her differently.”

So she’d been thinking that a little too clearly.  Good to know.

“You’re way cooler than Rachel, Cas.”  Dean pushed a pillow behind her head and resettled the walkman beside her elbow.  “It bother you if I crank the headphones?”

“Crank them?” Castiel repeated.

Really?  “Turn ’em up really loud,” Dean said.  “You’ll be able to hear the music, but thanks to my ex winning our stereo in the divorce, it won’t sound that great.  Let me know if it bothers you.”

“I will,” Castiel said after a moment.  Dean wondered what she’d decided not to ask in that pause.

That thought Castiel didn’t mention, and Dean figured they’d work out privacy as they went.  Hell, she’d lived with Sam her whole life.  Not to mention her mom, who could give any psychic a run for their money.  It’d been a week and she and Castiel had barely snapped at each other: by Campbell standards, they were meant to be.

Loud music and denial got her through another 24 hours.  It was long enough for her to collect her twenty bucks from Sam.  It was almost long enough to convince her that Castiel did something other than read, because when she got back to the room after Epigraphy, Castiel wasn’t there.

Lab, she reminded herself.  Castiel had a lab on Monday afternoons.

Except that she still wasn’t there at dinner time, and she didn’t show up for the evening “everyone in the building checks on Dean” ritual that was apparently going to mark Dean’s one-week anniversary at the Lighthouse.  Dean couldn’t decide whether the fact that Rachel wasn’t there either made sense or was really suspicious.

It made sense, right?  They were family.  They were probably doing… family things.  Maybe they’d gone to visit someone or something.  The day after the weekend ended.  Without telling anyone.

Dean didn’t like it, but she told herself it wasn’t any of her business.  And when that didn’t work, she told herself there was nothing she could do, which was at least mostly true.  She had no way of contacting her roommate when Castiel wasn’t actually sitting in the room with her.

Unless she did.  But no, the psychic thing was just a… trick, right?  It wouldn’t really work at a distance.

Probably.

And if it did, what did Dean have to say, anyway?  Hey, Psychic Hotline, didn’t know you were gonna be gone tonight.  There’s creepy stuff out there, so.  Don’t get eaten.

Like Castiel didn’t know that already.

So Dean said she didn’t know whenever someone asked where Cassie was, and they all seemed shocked that her roommate hadn’t told her every single detail of her life.  Dean was left feeling slightly more normal about the whole thing, because at least she wasn’t that worried.  Normal people were allowed to go places without telling each other.

At least she was thinking about someone other than Nick when she finally went to bed.

And when she woke up, too, because it was Castiel in the middle of the night and since when did she even make any noise?  “Hey,” Dean muttered.  She rolled over and it sounded too loud in the silent darkness.  “Cas?”

There was nothing for a long moment, and then a quiet, “Sorry to wake you.”

Dean let out the breath she’d been holding, because it was weird but yeah, that sounded right.  “S’fine,” she said, shifting her ear away from the pillow just in case.  “Glad you’re back okay.”

It sounded stupid as soon as she said it, and Castiel didn’t answer.  Dean listened anyway.  She didn’t move, breath softening again before she knew what she was doing.  She was waiting.

It was probably nothing.  But she’d never woken up when Castiel came in before.

Minutes passed.  They must have.  She felt her eyes trying to close and she stared as hard as she could, wishing she had a better angle on that immobile shadow.

A flicker betrayed the flashlight Castiel must have covered up, and the first step made Dean frown.  It was the third step that made her sure.  “Dude,” she said, sitting up.  “You’re hurt.”

The light disappeared, and the darkness was still again.

“Cas.”  Dean pushed the covers away.

“Don’t get up,” Castiel’s voice said.  “I’m only… getting my coat.”

“You going to the Health Center?”  Dean climbed out of bed in the dark, fumbling for the edge of her bureau.  “I’ll get your stuff for you.  You want some company?”

“Dean.”  Castiel sounded tired in a way that made Dean bristle.  She knew that tone, but it had always meant you’re too young to understand.  She didn’t know why she was getting it from her roommate.

There was a shift in the air, a sound Castiel probably hadn’t meant to make, and Dean finally found the light.  Castiel was sitting on the floor.  Like her legs couldn’t hold her anymore, except she was leaning back against the bed so she couldn’t be totally out of it.  Her eyes didn’t change in the light, she didn’t blink, and she was clutching her arm like a dead man’s switch.

She was also covered in blood.

“Okay,” Dean said.  First rule of first aid: don’t make them think it’s worse than it is.  “You were hunting, right?”  There were callboxes all over campus; if she’d been attacked by something human all she had to do was hit the “Help” button.

Castiel was staring at her, her eyes strangely shiny around the edges.  “I shouldn’t have come here,” she said.  “Please don’t get involved in this.”

Dean scoffed.  “Yeah, you don’t know me at all.”  She managed to dig her weapons’ bag out from under her bed without taking her eyes off Castiel for more than a couple of seconds.  “How’d you even get back here looking like that?”

When she looked back, Castiel’s eyes were closed and her head had fallen back against the bed.  Dean edged toward her, well aware of how dangerous an injured hunter was.  “Cas,” she said.  “You’re gonna have to tell me what’s wrong, or I’m gonna diagnose you myself.  And no one wants that.”

Head injury, she thought.  Castiel’s pupils weren’t working.  Broken arm.  It had to be an internal fracture: she was holding on too tightly for there not to be pain but there wasn’t any blood between her fingers.  Cuts, abrasions.  Impossible to know how bad, but Castiel had made it back here under her own power.  Her clothes were a mess, but the blood wasn’t spreading so either it wasn’t fresh or it wasn’t hers.

“It’s nothing you can treat,” Castiel said.  Her voice was quiet, but it had an odd whine to it that made Dean worry.  Like something in her throat was catching, or her lungs, and maybe she was struggling to breathe.

Ribs, Dean thought.  She needed to see Castiel’s chest while she drew in a normal breath.  “Cas,” she said carefully.  “I’m guessing you don’t want to go to the Health Center.  I can probably patch you up, but you’re gonna have to help me.”

Castiel didn’t answer.

It occurred to Dean that the question she hadn’t asked might be the most important one.  “Cas,” she repeated slowly.  She hoped saying the name wasn’t a mistake.  “Where’s Rachel?”

Castiel took another breath, but her eyes didn’t open.  The whine was more pronounced this time even though her voice was barely a whisper.  “Getting help.”

“Okay,” Dean said, relieved that the answer wasn’t worse.  “So in the meantime, you’ve got me.  Can you breathe?”

There was no reply.

“Cas,” Dean said sharply.  “You answer me or I start stripping you.  Your choice.”

“I can breathe,” Castiel whispered.  The whine was gone, but Dean’s head hurt just listening to her.  Sympathy pain, her mom would say.

But she was breathing.  And she was conscious, so bonus points for her.  “What hurts the most?” Dean asked.

Castiel’s face didn’t change, but she wouldn’t be squeezing her eyes shut that hard if she wasn’t trying not to cry.  Dean was already reaching for her arm when Castiel whispered, “You can’t see it.”

Dean put her hands over her ears instinctively, trying to press the pain out of her head.  The room exploded into light, bright like falling into the sun.  She felt something hard hit the back of her shoulder and she managed to keep her head up – she couldn’t tell if she’d been knocked into the bureau or the floor.

The whine that had been in Castiel’s voice was back, filling the room, and it was too bright to see but she kept trying.  All she could hear was someone screaming, Don’t hurt Dean!  Then there was a hand over her eyes and total silence in her head.

She could feel her chest heaving, a body pressed against hers.  Arms pulling her back.  She yanked at the hand on her face and nothing happened, tried to yell and couldn’t hear a thing.  She jammed her elbow into the body behind her and there was only pain, spreading up and down her arm and into her neck.

“Stop it,” a familiar voice said.  “You hurting yourself won’t help Castiel.”

Dean froze.  “Rachel?”  She still couldn’t hear herself talk, but somehow she could hear Rachel just fine.  “Where the fuck have you been?”

“Getting help,” Rachel snapped.  “She wasn’t supposed to come back here.”

“Well, maybe that’ll teach you not to leave people behind!”  It wasn’t as satisfying to shout when she couldn’t hear herself doing it, but she couldn’t move and she couldn’t see either so that was pretty much par for the course.  “Let me go!”

Let her go, a new voice said.  We’ll have to wipe her memory anyway.

“The fuck you will!”  Dean jerked away the moment the grip on her arms eased and suddenly she could hear again.  And see.  And the redhead kneeling over Castiel didn’t flinch when Dean snapped, “Christo!”

Castiel was glowing.  She was bleeding silver light from her arm and her eyes and it was pooling on the floor around her while everything else in the room looked normal.  The air was still filled with that stupid whine, but at least it didn’t make her head feel like exploding anymore.

Either Dean was higher than she’d ever been in her life, or “hunter” hadn’t quite covered it when she and Castiel had been swapping life stories.

Rachel wasn’t making any effort to grab her again, so Dean turned on her.  “Who’s that?” she demanded.

“Our sister.”  Rachel’s gaze flicked to the redhead, or maybe Castiel, then back to Dean.  Like Dean was the problem here.  Except that she was, because everything Castiel had said indicated she and Rachel were the same.  And their red-headed sister sure didn’t act surprised.

If Castiel wasn’t the weird one in the room, then Dean was.

“You’re not human,” Dean said.  Not demons.  Monsters?  She couldn’t think of anything that bled silver light like that.  And what the hell was their sister doing?

“No,” Rachel said.

It was Castiel’s voice that whispered, “Tell her.”  Soft as it was, it tweaked the whine filling the room and Dean finally got that it was her.  The sound was Castiel.

The redhead answered.  “The more she knows, the harder it will be to make her forget later.”

“I’m not forgetting,” Dean snapped.  Except that Rachel had pinned her easily – if her sisters could do that too, even not counting Castiel, Dean was physically outmatched in a confined space.  Her weapons bag was on the other side of Rachel, and oh yeah, they were all psychic.

Great.

“Maybe she doesn’t have to,” Castiel whispered.

“She’s seen you,” Rachel said.  “She’s seen your wings.  Humans don’t even believe in angels; you want to have that fight every day?”

Dean kept her mouth shut.  It wasn’t something she was very good at, but at least the not-thinking part came naturally.  Castiel’s sisters were potentially dangerous.  Castiel was defending her.  Right now that was all she needed to know.

“Some humans do,” Castiel whispered.  Her eyes were closed, and even for a whisper it didn’t sound very sure.  Dean thought about humming as loudly as she could.  She pictured sticking her fingers in her ears when humming didn’t seem like enough.

The redhead finally turned on her knee, catching Dean’s eye with a smile that was probably fake.  She looked fragile, which made Dean suspicious.  It was always the weak ones you had to watch out for.

“Hi,” she said.  “I’ve heard a lot about Castiel’s new roommate; it’s nice to meet you.  I’m Anna.”

“That your real name?” Dean asked bluntly.

Anna smiled a little, inclining her head.  “Anael,” she said.  “But most people call me Anna these days.”

Dean frowned.  She knew enough Christian mythology to recognize that one, and she wasn’t thinking about it.  At all.  Humming.  Loudly, with her hands over her ears.

“Dean,” she said.  Introducing herself was obviously redundant, but it wasn’t having her memory wiped, so.  She could play along.  “You do the healing around here?”

Anna’s smile faded.  “More often than I’d like,” she said.  “Yes.”

Dean looked down at Castiel, whose eyes were open again and maybe watching her in return.  The light in them made it hard to tell.  On the other hand, it wasn’t spilling out of her arm anymore, so that was probably a good sign.  “She gonna be all right?”

“She shouldn’t stay here,” Anna said, and Dean looked up.  Her expression was impossible to read.  “Unfortunately, there’s nowhere safer.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Dean snapped.

“I’m capable of answering for myself,” Castiel said.  The whine was gone: suddenly, silently, mostly unnoticed.  Her eyes were normal again, and she used her injured arm for support as she pushed herself up.

Her formerly injured arm, apparently.

“Yeah?” Dean said.  “So?”  She squinted at Castiel, because the light that had pooled beneath her when she lay on the floor moved with her when she sat up.  “You gonna be all right?”

“I’m a soldier,” Castiel said.  “I’ve survived much worse.”

She didn’t need the look Anna and Rachel exchanged to recognize evasion when she heard it.  “Sounds like an enthusiastic ‘maybe,’” Dean muttered.  “What do I do if you relapse?”

“I won’t,” Castiel said.

“You’ll stay with me tonight,” Rachel interrupted.  “Obviously.”

“I will not,” Castiel said testily.  “I’ve suffered more damage than Dean could ever hope to do; she’s no threat to me.”

“Hey,” Dean said, before she realized what she was protesting.  Probably better not to threaten the monster who was protecting her.  “Uh.  Never mind.”

“Some of Dean’s wards are superior,” Anna said.  “We rely too much on our own strength.”

“That’s easily changed,” Rachel insisted.  “We’re stronger together.”

“We are together,” Castiel said.  The glow was fading from behind her shoulders.  The irritation was already gone from her voice.  “You’re here, and I am grateful.”

Then she looked at Anna and said sharply, “No.”

Dean stiffened.

Anna just nodded, leaning over to press a kiss against Castiel’s forehead.  Not the action of a sister, Dean thought.  Even an older sister.  More like a mom, maybe.  Castiel had only mentioned a dad in passing… hadn’t she said her brothers had raised her?

She thought about humming again when Rachel gave her an odd look.  Humming with her hands over her ears and her eyes shut tight.  La la la la, she thought as obnoxiously as she could.

Castiel wore an expression that looked almost like a smile.

“Good night, Castiel,” Anna said, getting to her feet.  “And Dean.  Rachel?”

To Rachel, it was a command.  There was no doubt about that, and it was just as clear that Rachel didn’t like it.  But she got up too, stepping around Dean and following Anna to the door.  Her fingers brushed against Castiel’s shoulder as she passed.

Then they were gone, quiet in the hallway, closing the door behind them.

Dean waited.

“That was a moderately effective way to keep us from reading your mind,” Castiel said at last.  She was staring at the floor.  Her voice was matter-of-fact but her overall attitude was a little too kicked-puppy for Dean’s liking.

She still wasn’t human, and Dean couldn’t help frowning at her.  “You got a better suggestion?”

“Thinking one thing makes it easier to think something else,” Castiel said.  “Your thoughts are more susceptible to suggestion than no thoughts.”

“So, don’t think?” Dean said.

Castiel tilted her head.  “It’s a better suggestion,” she said.

Dean snorted.  “You’d be the first person to tell me I should do it more.”

Castiel didn’t answer.  Dean couldn’t decide whether her bloody clothes were more or less impressive now that she’d seen silver light coming out of her body.  “Do you bleed?” she asked abruptly.

“Yes.”  Castiel caught her eye for the first time since her sisters left.  “More importantly, I suspect, I can be injured and killed.  As you have no doubt guessed.”

Dean didn’t look away.  “Am I gonna need to know how to do it?”

“I will defend you to the best of my ability,” Castiel said.  “But if it would reassure you to know our weaknesses, I will share them.”

“You’ll share them,” Dean said flatly.  She didn’t know what it meant that Castiel had assumed Dean didn’t mean her.  “Just like that.”

Castiel frowned, but she looked more confused than angry.  “Yes.”

Dean held out her hand with a sigh.  “Hi,” she said.  “I’m Dean Campbell.  Human hunter of things that go bump in the night.  Who are you?”

“Castiel.”  Her roommate edged forward, and Dean couldn’t help but notice her hand was clean where her sleeves were not.  “I’m an angel of the lord.”

“Uh-huh.”  Dean shook her hand once before letting go.  “Cute name.  What’s it mean?”

Castiel blinked.  “It means ‘my cover is God’.”

“No, angel,” Dean said.  “What’s ‘angel’ mean?  You a shapeshifter?”

Castiel didn’t look any less puzzled.  “I know you’re familiar with angels.” 

“Yeah, you’re named for white robes and sandals that sit around on clouds,” Dean said.  “Why?  ’Cause you have wings?”

Castiel didn’t move.  “I’m not named for an angel,” she said.  “I am an angel.”

“Right,” Dean said.  “You’ve got a harp and a halo and a message from God.”

“I don’t play the harp,” Castiel said.

Dean raised her eyebrows.  “But you have a halo?”

“I’m a soldier,” Castiel said.  “I have a sword.”

“Let’s see it,” Dean said.

Castiel lifted her hand off the floor, and there was a silver blade in it that hadn’t been there before.

“Nice,” Dean said.  “So what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Helping out the poor schmucks down here on earth?” Castiel offered.

Dean wanted to believe her, which was why she didn’t.  “Are you?”

“No,” Castiel said.  “We’re tracking anomalous demonic activity.  There is some concern that it may have been instigated by angels.”

Dean was watching her every move, but when Castiel put her hand down the sword just wasn’t in it anymore.  “You’re policing your own people,” she said.  “Good for you, I guess.”

There was no answer, and Dean caught her eye again.  “Not good for you?”

“For angels to be working with demons,” Castiel said, “is… unthinkable.  There is nothing good in the possibility, or in being the ones to suggest it.”

Dean wanted to say, you thought it, but she caught the final implication just as she opened her mouth.  “Wait.  You’re not the police?”

Castiel didn’t look away.  “No.”

Dean considered that.  Angels, creatures named for angels, basically the same thing: inhuman.  Maybe friendly, maybe not.  But rebel angels?  Sam would give her grief about this no matter which way it went.

“Who messed you up tonight?” Dean asked at last.

Castiel lifted her head, looking for all the world like she was bracing herself.

And she was, Dean thought.  Angel or not, she looked human.  She acted human.  Mostly.  So she had human mannerisms, so what?  Lots of monsters laid low just like that.

“An archangel named Zachariah,” Castiel said.

That one was vaguely familiar in the same way “Anael” was, and Dean wondered why she didn’t recognize “Castiel.”  Was that even her real name?  It was how she’d introduced herself.  “Rachel” had to be made up though, right? 

“Sounds mean,” Dean said after a moment.

Castiel didn’t relax.  “I was fortunate to escape at all.”

“You gonna make it?” Dean asked.  It was probably the bloody clothes, but she didn’t look much stronger than she had with light pouring out of her.  She might not be going to pieces anymore, but she wasn’t getting up to change either.

Castiel frowned, and Dean added, “Are you going to be okay.  Physically.  Or whatever.”  She didn’t know if the light counted as physical or not, but if that was part of Castiel too then it couldn’t be in very good shape.

“My human body has recovered from the wounds it sustained,” Castiel said.

Dean wasn’t stupid.  “And your not-human body?” she demanded.  “The part you said I couldn’t see?  How’s that doing?”

“I’ll make it,” Castiel said, looking away.

She mimicked human phrases just like that, and she still couldn’t lie worth anything.  “So, crappy,” Dean translated.  “Your not-human body feels terrible.  Can you sleep?  Eat something?  What helps?”

Castiel let out a huff of air, lips twitching as she stared at the floor.  “You’re very eager to help someone who may or may not meet your standards of right and good.”

“Back at you,” Dean retorted.  “We don’t pick our family, Cas.  We only pick our friends.  So far you haven’t done anything to make me change my mind.”

Castiel lifted her head, studying her curiously.  “What would make you change your mind?”

Dean raised her eyebrows.  “Don’t try to kill me,” she said.  “Or my family.”

Castiel nodded, like it was an actual deal, and Dean would have been less creeped out by that before she knew who she was talking to.  “Very well,” she said.  “I should warn you, then, that your sister is part of the demonic activity we’re investigating.”

Dean stared at her.  “Excuse me?”

“Your sister is part of the…”

There must have been something dangerous in her expression, because Castiel paused.  “Oh.  Your sister bears the stain of demon blood.  It’s a trait she shares with others of her generation, and one that some have chosen to exploit in Azazel’s absence.”

“Azazel,” Dean repeated.  It was the only real thing in the room.  “You mean Yellow Eyes.”

“Azazel’s human eyes would appear yellow,” Castiel said.  “Yes.”

Dean shook her head.  Everything was cold, but she could move again and that counted for a lot.  “My sister’s not a demon,” she said.  It made the rest seem ridiculous, except for the part about how she was talking to a monster who bled light and could summon an invisible sword at will.

“No,” Castiel agreed.  “The original influence is remote, and should it remain inactive she might go her entire life without realizing it.”

“Great,” Dean said.  “Let’s go with that.”

“Unfortunately,” Castiel said, and Dean was already reaching for her phone.  “Even now, forces align to ensure that will not happen.”

Dean pointed at her as she hit the second number on speed dial and held the phone up to her ear.  “Don’t go anywhere,” she said.  The phone only rang twice.

It was two-thirty in the morning and the voice on the other end was alert.  “Dean?  Are you all right?”

“Hi Mom,” she told the phone.  “I’m sitting next to an angel who says Sam’s in danger of demon influence.  How are you?”

There was a heartbeat of a pause, and then: “A lot more awake than I was a minute ago.”

“Yeah,” Dean said.  “How much of this do you know?”

“Not the part about angels,” her mom’s voice replied.  “Start there.”

“Why don’t you tell me about Azazel,” Dean said.  “Then I’ll tell you about angels.”

Her mom didn’t protest or hesitate, and Dean didn’t know whether it made her feel better or worse that she’d obviously been expecting this question.  “I don’t know how much time the demon had with Sam,” she said.  “Your father found it in the nursery ten years after I made the deal.  I should have warned him, I should have remembered, but I didn’t.”

“And the deal was just to get into the house,” Dean said.  “You’re sure there was nothing about Sam specifically?”

“Just the house.”  They’d heard the story before, but Dean knew how much familiarity could make you miss.  “I believed – I hoped that if it had anything to do with Sam, whatever it was ended when we killed the demon.”

“No,” Castiel said quietly.

Dean tipped the phone away from her mouth.  “No?” she repeated.

Of course it wasn’t far enough, stupid cell phones had a pickup like a spy microphone.  “No what?” her mom’s voice repeated in her ear.  “Dean, what’s going on?”

“It didn’t end,” Castiel said.  “Azazel was creating an army.  Sam isn’t alone, and not all of her fellows are so benign.”

“The angel says Sam’s part of a demon army,” Dean reported.

Castiel frowned at her, but her mom was asking, “What angel?  Who are you talking to?”

“My roommate,” Dean said.  “She says she’s an angel of God.  And let me tell you, she’s got a light show like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Dean.”  Her mom sounded cautious, and yeah, Dean could relate.  “Are you all right?”

“Well, I’m calling you in the middle of the night to ask about Sam after my roommate turned up bloody and broken on our floor,” Dean said.  “Her friends showed up, laid their hands on her, and suddenly she’s fine.  Except she seems to know stuff about our family even I don’t know, and that freaks me out.  So overall?  No.  I’d say ‘all right’ isn’t exactly how I’m feeling right now.”

“Where’s Sam?” her mom wanted to know.

“Probably in her room on the computer,” Dean said.  “Like every other socially maladjusted freshman on campus.  Look, Cas –”  She put her hand over the phone this time, even though that probably wouldn’t work much better.  “Is anyone going to kill Sam tonight?”

“We’re not after Sam,” Castiel said.  “We’re hunting the demons who are trying to manipulate Sam.”

“Uh-huh,” Dean said.  “That line’s gonna get blurry real fast.”  She uncovered her phone for whatever good it would do and said, “Mom, I gotta go.  I’m gonna check on Sam.  See if you can come up with what old Yellow Eyes might have done, ’cause I have a feeling we’re gonna need to know first.”

“Dean,” her mom said.  It was only years of habit that kept her from hanging up before her mom said, “Be careful.”

“You too,” Dean told her.  “Bye.”

She stood up, fumbling for a sweatshirt to cover up the sleeveless tee she’d worn to bed.  “You okay to come with?” she asked, looking down at Castiel.  “I think Sam’s gonna have an easier time with this if I bring a first-person account.”

Castiel stared up at her.  “You mean now,” she said slowly.

“Yeah.”  When the hell else did you tell someone demons were after them?  “She’s probably not even asleep yet; it’ll be fine.”

“Dean,” Castiel said.  She hadn’t made any move to stand, and her next words should have been a surprise but somehow they weren’t.  “I’m injured and very weak.  Though I’m physically capable of following you, my current state would be a beacon to every supernatural being in range.  I will do your sister no favors by going to her now.”

The calm recitation made it all real in a way it hadn’t been before.  No open wounds, no serious danger, as far as Dean was concerned.  Until an angel said it was too weak to protect itself.

“So what are you doing here?” Dean blurted out.

“You have a spell box under your bed,” Castiel said.  “It’s very old.”

“I have a – you mean the curse box?”  It was covered with what her mom called Enochian.  Dean didn’t have much use for the supposed “language of angels,” but it was the strongest self-contained storage they had.  “What good is that?  You won’t fit inside it.”

“The shielding effect of the sigils is not limited to the interior of the box,” Castiel said.  “That, in combination with the amulet you wear, makes me as well hidden in this room as I would be anywhere on campus.”

“My –”  Dean’s hand went to her neck, the cord half-buried under her sweatshirt.  “This?”

Castiel didn’t answer right away, just looking at her.  “You didn’t know?”

“Know what?”

Castiel shook her head, but she was obviously lying when she said, “It’s not important.”

“Hey.”  Dean crouched down on the floor beside her, because she wasn’t totally sure what was going on but it was clear Cas was having a lousy night.  “You want me to stay here, I’ll stay.  You’re sure Sam’s not in trouble right now?”

“I can’t make any promises,” Castiel said, and she must have picked that line up from somewhere.  “But the attack on me was not related to Sam.  With regard to her relative safety, this night is no different from the last.”

Which wasn’t that reassuring, given some of the nights they’d had in the past.  But it was as much as anyone could ask, so Dean shrugged and picked up her phone again.  It only took one ring before Sam answered.

“Sam,” she said.  “Maybe more demons on campus than we thought.”

“Yeah?”  Sam didn’t sound worried.  Or sleepy, but that wasn’t exactly a surprise.  “I thought this was supposed to be a vacation.”

“Just watch your back,” Dean told her.  “Sounds like some of ’em know us.”

“Great,” Sam said.  “That’s just what we need.”

“No kidding.”  Dean glanced at her roommate, belatedly wondering how much of this Castiel wanted to keep secret.  “Some of ’em may be after you specifically, so be careful.”

“Wait, me?” Sam said.  “You’re the badass.  What’d I do?”

“Beats me,” Dean said.  “Mom’s on it.  Call me when you’re up tomorrow; we should get lunch.”

“Mom’s on it?” Sam repeated.  “What’s going on?”

“I dunno,” Dean told her.  “Maybe nothing.”

“Dean.”  Sam sounded exasperated.  “Are you hunting right now?”

“No!” Dean exclaimed.  But there was no other way to pass it off, so she admitted, “Someone else was.  They heard something, okay?”

“Right,” Sam said.  “It wasn’t you, it was a friend of yours.  Who just happened to be out hunting tonight.  And they heard something you can’t tell me about, but Mom’s already on it.”

“Sam, I swear to God,” Dean said.  “I am in my room, in my pajamas right now.  You can ask Cas if you don’t believe me; she’s right here.”

“Cas,” Sam called, raising her voice over the phone.  “Is Dean in her pajamas?”

“Yes,” Castiel said.

“She says yes,” Dean reported.

“Yeah, I heard her,” Sam said.  “What, are you sitting right next to her?  Does she know what your ‘friend’ found out?”

“She is the friend,” Dean said.  “Come on, Sam.  She was hunting, she ran into some demons.  Turns out they know who you are.”

“How did that come up?” Sam demanded.

“No idea,” Dean said.  “I’ll fill you in tomorrow; I gotta go.”

“You know, I’m not actually a little kid anymore,” Sam reminded her.  “You don’t have to protect me all the time.”

“’Course I do,” Dean said.  “That’s my job.  Don’t stay up so late, computers are bad for your eyes, eat your carrots.  And do me a favor, stop wearing that purple t-shirt with the unicorn on it.  It’s ridiculous.”

She could hear Sam huff over the phone.  “It’s a greyhound, Dean.  Don’t be such a jerk.”

Dean smirked.  “’Night, bitch.”

“Whatever,” Sam said.  There was a hitch and then the quiet of a lost signal.

Castiel was watching her curiously.  “Why did you tell your mother the truth,” she asked, “while putting Sam off?”

It was almost three in the morning and Castiel wanted to have a soul-baring discussion about family.  Of course she did; roommates sucked.  She debated just handing Castiel a book and going back to bed, but in the end, Dean probably owed her at least one answer.

“Because Mom just thinks I’m crazy,” Dean said.  “Sam will ask questions until kingdom come.  Since I don’t know any of the answers, it’ll be easier if I have something to do while she grills me.”

Castiel seemed to be considering this.  Dean was done talking about it, so she asked, “You sleep?  ’Cause you look like you could use it after tonight.”

“No,” Castiel said.  She sounded distracted, and Dean wondered if she was telepathically chatting with Rachel or whatever.  “I don’t need to sleep.”

“At all?” Dean insisted.  That explained a lot.  “Even for fun?  Because seriously, you look like you’re about to keel over.”

Castiel frowned, and at least now she was looking at Dean.  “I don’t wish to lie down,” she said.  “Not now.  I – the part of me you can’t see is… injured.  It might… interact poorly.  With my human body.”

Dean squinted at her before deciding that Rachel probably hadn’t been wrong.  “You can’t lie on your wings,” she guessed.  “Or press them against the wall?  What if we put your mattress on the floor and you sleep on your stomach?”

Castiel just looked at her, and Dean decided to take that as a yes.  “Get up,” she said.  “Change your clothes; I’ll get the mattress.”

She thought she’d taken the harder job.  Shifting a mattress alone was awkward but doable, even in a tiny dorm room where all the furniture overlapped.  She knocked one end on the floor and then climbed over it, onto the bed frame, and shoved the rest of it past the corner of Castiel’s bureau.  After that it was pretty straightforward to just pull it down and over.

Castiel hadn’t gotten past unbuttoning her blouse.

Dean stared at her, wondering what the problem was.  “Are you that out of it?” she asked bluntly.  “Or are you just modest?  I can turn around or whatever.  If that’s a thing.”

Except Castiel wasn’t just a foreign “good girl,” was she.  She was a freaking angel.  Since when did angels have problems getting naked?

“I don’t understand this clothing,” Castiel muttered.  It was quiet enough that it sounded more like a complaint than an answer, and it made Dean raise her eyebrows.  What was that supposed to mean?

“Okay,” she said.  She was gonna go with “out of it” until proven otherwise.  “You want help, or are you good?”

Castiel frowned at her.  “I don’t understand how that’s a dichotomy,” she said, finally looking as tired as she must feel.  And tired on top of bloody was a pathetic combination that made Dean want to put her to bed and promise that everything was going to be okay.

“You have pajamas?” she asked gruffly.  She couldn’t adopt a monster; Sam would laugh herself silly.  They’re not all your little sister, Dean, she would say.  Especially the inhuman ones.

“No,” Castiel said.

“No, of course not,” Dean muttered.  “Look –”  She didn’t know how to ask, so she just stepped up to Castiel and tugged at the bottom of her blouse.  “Can I?”

Castiel just nodded, so Dean grabbed the blouse more firmly and lifted her chin.  “Put your arms up,” she said.  “Over your head.”

She peeled the shirt up and away when Castiel obeyed, tossing it over the end of the now-empty bed frame.  Her bra had a front clasp, which was awkward, but hey.  Dean had a lot of experience undressing injured people.  And when she thought to herself, la la la, she caught Castiel smiling.

“What’s so funny?” Dean asked.  Castiel did at least help by pulling her arms free and looking totally unembarrassed.  If she was self-conscious, it sure didn’t seem to be about this.

“I find your crude attempts at protecting your thoughts amusing,” Castiel said.

“Yeah?”  Dean had a split second to choose between insult and honesty, and maybe she knew Cas after all because she guessed honesty.  “Is it working?”

Castiel just nodded, and Dean figured she’d been right.  Grabbing a too-big t-shirt from her bureau, she shook it out and held it up.  “This okay?”

Castiel nodded again.  She did reach for the shirt, but she didn’t seem to have any idea what she was doing with it once she had it.  She was either really tired or really distracted.  Seriously, couldn’t angels multitask?

“Put your arms up again,” Dean said.  It was harder to get a shirt on someone than it was to take it off, but at least Castiel was standing.  And conscious.  Both were pluses when it came to dressing and undressing.

Dean managed to get her pants undone while she was tugging the t-shirt into place, and Castiel actually helped her push them down.  Her shoes came off no problem, which Dean figured was just momentum: get someone going through the motions of daily life and sometimes habit took over.  Dean helped her pull on a pair of sweatpants, and that was officially as much fake-humming as her head could take.

She focused on Castiel’s mattress instead.  If Cas couldn’t even undress alone, she probably wouldn’t do anything about the covers.  Dean pulled them back, wondering if they’d ever even been slept in.  Wondering if angels needed to brush their teeth, or shower, or get a glass of water before bed.

You can’t adopt them all, she heard Sam saying again.

“Are you adopting me?” Castiel’s voice asked quietly.

Dean stiffened.  She couldn’t keep from turning around, but yeah: Castiel was exactly as close as she’d sounded.  “Uh, hey,” she said.  She took a step back.  “It’s a thing I do, okay, it doesn’t mean anything.  I just hate to see people look like crap after a hunt gone wrong.”

Castiel didn’t look sorry or surprised or any less tired than she had before.  “Your language is confusing,” she said, and her tone sounded almost petulant.  “I meant to thank you.  If I have behaved inappropriately, I apologize.  That was not my intent.”

“What?” Dean said.  But of course it wasn’t, Castiel didn’t try to piss people off any more than she did.  She just didn’t get it, sometimes.  “No,” she said.  “You didn’t.  I mean.  The whole undressing people is… weird, sometimes.”

Great.  Way to make it weirder by calling attention to it.

“Just,” she tried again.  “My bad, okay?  I was only trying to help.”

Dean actually tried to piss people off a lot.  Maybe it was a bad comparison.

“I see nothing bad about it,” Castiel said.  “I should rest now.”

“Into bed you go,” Dean agreed, relieved.  “Wake me up if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay,” Castiel said, with another small smile.  “Good night, Dean.”

“’Night,” Dean said.  She watched just long enough to make sure Cas wasn’t doing anything freaky, like sleeping on top of the covers or something.  When she turned out the light, the shades glowed a little bit around the edges but there was nothing from the middle of the room.  She wondered if those “wings” were only visible when angels were in trouble.

Or whatever.  She didn’t even believe in angels, and here she was trying to take care of one.  She needed more sleep.

It was worth it when she woke up in the morning and saw Castiel sprawled across the mattress on her stomach, covers thrown back and her eyes closed.  Dean turned off her alarm before it could start, gathering up her stuff as quietly as she could.  Cas was still asleep when she came back from the bathroom.

Dean debated knocking on Rachel’s door before she left for the day.  It was probably the friendly thing to do.  But if anyone knew how Castiel was without being told, it was Rachel, right?  Couldn’t she get it together herself and come see how her sister was doing?

It sounded stupid even in her head, which probably meant it was a lot dumber than she realized.

So she picked up her bag, dropped her amulet on the mattress by Castiel’s hand, and locked the door behind her on her way out.  When she knocked on Rachel’s door, though, there was no answer.  She waited long enough that it didn’t seem rude to knock again, but there was no answer the second time either.

Dean tried to tell herself that if Rachel wasn’t worried, she shouldn’t be either.  It worked for about an hour and a half: long enough to eat breakfast and make it halfway through the gym before she couldn’t take it anymore.  There was an angel who didn’t need to sleep lying unconscious in her room, and she’d walked away.

She half-expected Castiel to be gone when she got back.  She wasn’t.  She was still doing a damn good impression of sleep, though, and Dean watched her closely for several minutes to make sure she was breathing regularly.  She couldn’t really have a concussion, could she?  Should Dean be trying to wake her up?

In the end, she sat on her own bed and worked on translations until Sam called about lunch.  The conversation didn’t seem to bother Castiel, and Dean had to go through the whole agonizing decision of whether to leave her or not, whether to wake her or not, and where the hell was Rachel anyway, all over again.  She was overreacting, right?  If nothing had happened by now, what were the odds it would happen at all?

What “it” was, she had no idea.  Not every day you found yourself watching an injured angel sleep.

Sam seemed to agree, which made the whole thing ten times more ridiculous.  Dean didn’t tell her that she was going back to check on Castiel again after lunch.  Which turned out to be just as weird for the opposite reason: Castiel was suddenly gone.  The mattress was back in its usual place, bed made, Castiel’s borrowed clothes folded up neatly on Dean’s bed with her amulet sitting on top of them.

There was nothing to indicate Castiel had done anything other than wake up and go to class.

Dean stared at the room for a long moment.  This was good.  Yeah, it must be good.  No way would Castiel have had time to fold her clothes if someone had snuck into the room and gotten the drop on her.

She held onto that thought all afternoon.  It was better than the thought of a demon magnet lying vulnerable and unaware on the floor.  And when she came back to a still-empty room after work, she reminded herself that Castiel had been taking care of herself for years.  She probably had plenty of older sisters; she didn’t need another one in the form of her very human roommate.

When Rachel knocked on the door for dinner that night, she had Castiel with her.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said.  “Will you join us for dinner?”

Dean just stared at her.

“We’re meeting downstairs in the lounge,” Rachel said, like Dean had said hi and be right with you or something.  “I’ll see you there.”  She left Castiel behind when she headed down the stairs, and Dean wondered whose idea that had been.

“I’ll come in,” Castiel said, but uncertainly, like she wasn’t sure of her welcome.

Dean got out of the way, holding the door until she was through and closing it behind her.  “Dude, are you all right?” she blurted out.  “Last I saw you were dead to the world on the floor.  Is that normal?”

“No,” Castiel said.  If anything, she looked more uncomfortable now.  “With your assistance, I was able to… recuperate more fully.”

Dean had no idea what that meant.  It sounded like it was good.  “Is that good?” she asked.

Castiel smiled a little.  “Yes.”

“Great,” Dean said.  “Well, you may or may not care that Sam now thinks I’m crazy too, so thanks for that.  I think she and Mom are planning some kind of intervention.  If they show up while I’m not here, don’t let them in.”

“Very well,” Castiel agreed.

Dean stared at her for a long moment before she was sure that was all they were gonna say about it.  “Okay,” she said at last.  “So, we’re doing the dining hall thing again?”

“If you wish to join us,” Castiel said.  “Rachel tells me that we draw less attention if we participate in a token number of social gatherings.”

Dean had never cared much about attention, but she figured undercover supernatural beings had more reason than most to avoid it.  “You got an extra guest pass?”

“Of course,” Castiel said.  “I don’t use them for anyone else.”

It was probably just a statement of the obvious, but it made Dean smile.  There were worse things than having her weird, superpowered roommate like her.  “Let’s go, then.”

They had to pray their way through the beginning of dinner again, but now that Dean was looking for it she noticed more than just the words.  One, they waited for everyone to sit down first, and it didn’t seem to matter whether people started eating before grace or after.  Two, she finally got what Castiel meant about a “sacred space.”  It was way easier to notice people who joined them after grace than before: like the table had been primed, somehow, like holy water, to react to additional presence.

Three, it wasn’t any more obnoxious than the sororities or the sports teams.  Which wasn’t saying much, since she couldn’t stand either one, but she held hands and bowed her head with everyone else.  It was still keeping Sam’s friends away, so she didn’t hate it.

Castiel had saved a seat for her when she stopped to get dessert, but Jesse sat on her other side.  Jesse ate without speaking for the most part, which was a nice change from Emily.  Apparently everyone had gotten the “talk to Dean” out of their system the night before.  All Jesse did was pass her a napkin when she asked, and offer her the salt before she thought to, so she was moving steadily up Dean’s good list.

Cas was talking to Rachel again.  Dean mostly ignored them, since they were obviously talking about classes, but she couldn’t miss the fact that her roommate wasn’t eating.  The same roommate who’d been out all night, missed breakfast and lunch, and had probably knit bones back together in the meantime.  Did she not need food, or what?

“Hey,” Dean said, when Castiel paused long enough to reach for her glass of water.  Rachel was doing the same thing, and Dean wondered if Cas was taking cues from her.  “How’s the soup?”

Castiel glanced down at her half-full bowl of soup, then back at Dean.  “Warm,” she said.

Which, yeah, it was still steaming.  But Cas’ tray was carefully planned: no dessert, only half a bowl of soup, a piece of bread she’d given to Rachel, and some vegetables she’d since dumped in the soup.  The water was the only thing she’d touched, yet she managed to make it look like she’d not only taken a normal amount of food but eaten most of it as well.

“Not feeling well?” Dean asked.

When Cas frowned, she nodded at her tray.  “Chicken soup is sick food,” she said.  “And you didn’t even finish it.”

“Sick food,” Castiel repeated.  Like she’d never heard it before.

“You had a rough morning,” Dean prompted.  There were ways of talking about this stuff around normal people.  “You feeling any better now?”

“I’m feeling much better now,” Castiel said, but she still looked uncertain.  “I’m simply… not used to this.  Food,” she added, after enough of a pause that it sounded weird to someone who knew what to listen for.

Maybe they didn’t eat after all.  Dean leaned around her to see Rachel, halfway through her lasagna and apparently happy to finish Castiel’s bread for her.  So, yeah, Cas was different.  But she’d seen Cas eat in their room at least once.  And she’d definitely eaten at the Space Center last week.

“Not the same as back home?” Dean offered, sitting back in her chair.  Maybe angels needed something other than food when they were hurt.  They sure didn’t heal the way humans did.

“No,” Castiel said slowly.  “No, it isn’t.”

On the other hand, she’d slept all morning, and if that wasn’t human Dean didn’t know what was.

“You tried dessert?” she asked.  “Banana cake.  It’s pretty awesome.”

“No,” Castiel repeated.

“See, that’s your problem,” Dean told her.  “Always start with dessert.  Here.”  She handed over her dessert plate, and Castiel took it like she was trained to accept whatever people handed her.  “Better with soft serve,” Dean added, pushing her chair back.  “You got a favorite flavor?”

Castiel looked puzzled, and Rachel had stopped eating to stare at her.  Jesse was ignoring them, but across the table Becky must have heard her say the word “sick” because of course she had an opinion.  “Oh, dairy products aren’t the best if you’re not feeling well; you should try some tea and honey.  I’ll get you some!”

She was out of her seat before anyone could stop her.  Castiel hadn’t even looked away, so Dean shrugged.  “Never had anything ice cream couldn’t fix,” she said.  “Anyone else?”

“Sure,” Jesse said, surprising her.  “I’ll come with you.”

“I’ll have some,” Rachel added, seemingly over her skepticism.  “Vanilla or swirl.”

“Got it,” Dean said.  “Cas?”

“I have no preference,” Castiel said.  But she’d picked up a fork and was playing with the frosting on her cake, so she wasn’t pissed.  Probably.  Dean was totally babying her, and she was trying not to but come on.  Bloody coat.  Barely able to undress herself.  Unconscious all morning, and now she wasn’t even going to eat?

She didn’t have to eat what Dean gave her, but hey, Sam didn’t take her advice either and it hadn’t stopped her yet.

“Chocolate it is,” Dean said.  She followed Jesse back to the soft-serve machine, grabbed a couple bowls of chocolate, and then snuck into the dessert line to get another piece of cake.  It wasn’t the easiest to carry; she probably should have gotten another tray.

On the other hand, Jesse got Rachel’s ice cream.  That was one less thing to juggle.  And Castiel had actually eaten some of her cake by the time Dean got back to the table – or it looked like she had.  Maybe she’d hidden it in her soup, what did Dean know.

“Here,” Dean said, dropping the extra bowl on her tray next to the soup.  “It’s good with the cake.”

“And tea!”  Becky put one knee on her chair and leaned across the table to set a mug down next to Castiel’s tray.  “It’s pretty hot, but it’ll cool off by the time you finish your dessert.  Can I get you anything else?”

“No,” Castiel said, but she didn’t sound annoyed.  “Thank you.  Both of you,” she added, as Dean sat down beside her again.

Dean shrugged, not looking at her.  “Any excuse for ice cream,” she told her tray.  What was she doing, trying to force feed an angel dessert?  They must know how to take care of themselves better than Dean did.

“Makes good breakfast,” Jesse said, out of nowhere, and Dean paused.

“No way,” Mary said, from the other side of the table.  “I thought I was the only one who did that.”

“They wouldn’t leave the machines on if they didn’t want us to eat it,” Jesse said.

“That’s what I figure,” Mary agreed.

The university gave out free travel mugs to students, which could be used to smuggle things out of the dining hall.  Jesse and Mary bonded over sneaking ice cream out at night before moving on to other things they put in the mugs.  Dean tried to pay more attention to her cake than she did to being impressed, but anyone who thought of taking bacon in a travel mug was kind of a genius.

Castiel ate all of her cake and finished off the ice cream, too.

After dinner, though, she and Rachel left together.  Well, she and Rachel left the dining hall with Dean and Jesse, but after that.  They said good night and headed off to the “library,” and finally Dean got it: why Cas looked so confused when asked where she slept, why she and Rachel were inseparable at night.  Dean was embarrassed it had taken her this long, but she’d been working under the apparently faulty assumption that no one could go 24/7 without rest.

Castiel and Rachel weren’t sleeping together.  They were hunting demons together.

Too successfully, if last night was any indication.  They’d obviously found what they were looking for.  And it couldn’t just be demons, if the way Cas had let Meg go meant anything.

She’d mentioned angels, Dean thought.  Another angel had messed her up.

“Going back to the Lighthouse?” Jesse asked.

Which was when Dean realized she was standing awkwardly in front of the dining hall, trying to convince herself not to tail her roommate.  “Yeah,” she said.  Seriously, there was concerned and then there was stalking, and she’d been with Nick.  She knew the difference.

“You?” she added, because Jesse was okay.

“Nothing better to do,” Jesse said.

That made Dean grin.  “Sounds like a challenge to me,” she said.  “You want to go –”  She caught herself just before she would have said get a drink.  “Paint the town?”

Jesse gave her a skeptical look.  “On a Tuesday night?”

It wasn’t a no, Dean noted.  “It’s a college town,” she said.  “Someone’s playing somewhere.  All we have to do is find them.”

They ended up shooting pool in the student building, but there was an open mic and a couple of girls got up to sing, so Dean counted it.  Jesse was terrible at pool but good at keeping her mouth shut, and that was worth a lot.  Dean went the rest of the evening without seeing anyone she knew.

She wasn’t so lucky the next day.  Cas came back late if she came back at all, which Dean wouldn’t count on except that she was definitely wearing different clothes when Dean finally saw her.  Which wasn’t until after work, after she’d avoided Sam’s call about angel research and two of Nick’s friends at lunch.

Cas was sitting on her bed reading like it was any other day.

“Dude,” Dean blurted out.  “Don’t you ever have homework?  Papers?  Labs?  What do science majors do, anyway?”

Castiel looked up without lowering her book.  Vulcan Academy Murders, Dean noticed with satisfaction.  Nowhere near as obnoxious as the first one she’d started with.  “I don’t find physics particularly challenging,” Castiel said.

It wasn’t an answer, except for how maybe it was.  “Do you cheat?” Dean wanted to know.  Language wasn’t science, but she was imagining how fast an angel of God could burn through one of her translations.  “I mean, how much do you even have to study?”

There was a long pause, and she wondered if she’d crossed a line.  She had to offend Cas eventually, right?  Seriously, if the woman was an angel, Dean didn’t know how they were even still talking.

“My goal on campus is not academic,” Castiel said at last.  She didn’t seem uncomfortable or accusatory.  She had the same puzzled air that she often wore when they were talking about… well.  Anything.  “I accomplish enough of the objectives set before me that I pass with little notice.”

That I pass, she’d said.  She must have meant to avoid attention, but suddenly Dean understood the rest of what she didn’t say.  “You’re not a genius,” she said.  “I mean, when you turn in work.  It’s not the best.”

It could have sounded mean, but Cas didn’t seem to hear it.  “Nor the worst,” she agreed.  “I have no desire to be memorable.”

Dean didn’t think she was really achieving that goal, but hey.  Points for trying.

“Voyager premiere tonight,” she said instead.  “You coming?”

“Yes,” Castiel said.  She put her book down, and just like that, Dean had her full attention.  “Now?”

Dean blinked.  “Uh, I’m gonna get dinner first.  The show starts at nine.  Well, but they’ll show the season finale first, at eight, then go right into the new one at nine.  It was a cliffhanger, so.  You should probably see both parts if you want to know what’s going on.”

Cas tilted her head.  “You had my attention before,” she said.  “I only meant to indicate a readiness to act if it was appropriate.”

It took her a few seconds to figure out what Cas was talking about.  “You’re reading my mind again,” Dean said.

“Your reaction was particularly clear,” Castiel said.  “Yes.”

Note to self, Dean thought.  Do not have sexual fantasies about roommate.

Then she sighed, because seriously, her mind was terrible.  “Sorry,” she said aloud.  “How much does me thinking about sex bother you?”

“I rarely notice,” Castiel said.  “It’s a common topic on campus.”

Yeah, no kidding.  She didn’t really want to talk about it, but she was living with a telepath.  Apparently.  “Well, tell me if it pisses you off,” she said.  “I may not be able to stop, but I can at least… go somewhere else, or something.  For a while.”

Castiel seemed surprised.  “My ability to discern your thoughts is not dependent on proximity.”

“You’re kidding,” she said.

Castiel frowned slightly.  “No, I’m not.”

“Wow,” Dean said.  “That’s… really disturbing.”

“Why?” Castiel asked.

On the other hand, if angels could read everyone’s mind, everywhere, all the time, how much did they even notice what one person thought?  She could hear everyone talking in a football stadium; didn’t mean she knew what they were saying.

“I dunno,” Dean said at last.  “It just is.  You already eat?”

“No,” Castiel said.

Dean shrugged.  “Well, I’m gonna eat in the SUB.  You wanna come with?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, but she didn’t stand up.  “Are you leaving now?”

“After I get cleaned up,” Dean said.  “Give me twenty minutes.”

Cas had finished the book by the time she got back from her shower.  Or at least, she’d moved on to The IDIC Epidemic, and Dean wondered how fast she could really read.  Didn’t sleep, didn’t have to eat, strong enough that Dean had no way to know how strong she was, and apparently taking physics classes because she could coast through them.

“Hey,” Dean said, twisting her damp hair up off of her neck.  “How long are you here, anyway?”

Castiel turned the page.  “Another four and a half minutes.”

“No, I mean, here,” Dean said.  “On campus.  Living in the Lighthouse, or whatever.  Tracking demons, you said.  Looking for angels.  You in it for the long haul, or is this just a temporary thing?”

Castiel was frowning when she looked up.  “We’re here until they’re found and dealt with,” she said.

Which was vague and just threatening enough to discourage questions.  Once Dean would have laughed, because threats were that effective.  Now she didn’t even think Cas was doing it on purpose.

“So, like, the rest of the year?” she pressed.  “Or are you gonna disappear as soon as you get it all figured out?  I’m not gonna get stuck with Meg for a roommate, am I?”

Castiel just looked at her.  She probably didn’t even think in those terms; what was an academic year to angels?  She was only here as part of her cover, lying just like Dean did when she needed information from people who didn’t want to know what they were dealing with.  It was all about the job.

“I’m sure you could easily secure a roommate in my absence,” Castiel said.  “People seem to respond positively to you.”

“Right.”  Dean threw her towel over the back of her desk chair and picked up a sweatshirt.  She put her wallet and her ID into the pockets, ignored the message light blinking on her phone, and turned toward the door.  “You ready to go?”

Of course she was ready, because apparently angels didn’t need things.  But she sat down and ate pizza with Dean in the SUB, and she showed her ID to get past the ticket counter and into the theater on the third floor.  They were greeted by cheers when the door opened onto a lit auditorium, because that was what the Trekkers’ Club did: they cheered every time someone arrived.

Dean scanned the group clustered in the first few rows and on the carpeted floor in front of the screen.  Nick used to come for Voyager on Wednesday nights.  She figured he only went because she did, but that might still be true.  It took two to say it was over.

Nick wasn’t there, but Lisa was, and Tikwa.  It was Eric who called, “Hey Dean!” but as vice-president he was the designated greeter-in-charge.  Dean just waved, introducing Cas to the girls in front first.  They were all weird here, so she didn’t worry about her roommate.  Outcasts were always tolerant of other outcasts.

Sam said that was why Dean fit in, which might be true even if she’d never admit it.

By the time Candy yelled, “Lights in ten!” from the back of the auditorium, most of them were sitting down.  Or lying down: Theater III was theirs for the evening, and there were maybe twenty of them in a space designed for hundreds.  People took advantage of it.

Dean had claimed a couple of seats in the front row, kicking up the armrest in between and wedging her sweatshirt into the corner as a cushion.  Cas took the seat next to her shoulder, sitting stiffly while the group took up Candy’s ten-second countdown.  Dean didn’t say anything.  She was here to watch the show, and other people were allowed to talk only if they weren’t loud enough to overhear.

The cable feed came up just before the lights went down, so Candy must have someone back there helping her.  They were already into the UPN promo slot--cutting it close, Dean thought--when the door to the auditorium opened again and light from the door spilled into the sudden darkness.  They all cheered, because that was what they did, but the backlight made the newcomer anonymous.

Whoever it was stood just inside the door after it closed, probably letting their eyes adjust.  Dean folded her arms, making it a point not to look even when she saw the shadowy figure heading right for her.  Nick stopped on the other side of Cas, crouched down so he didn’t obscure anyone’s view, and she heard him whisper, “Hey.  Do you mind?”

“Yes,” Castiel replied.

Dean kept her eyes on the screen.  It was the beginning of last season’s cliffhanger, and she’d already seen this one but it was better than trying to guess what Nick was doing.  She didn’t want to sit next to him.  She wasn’t going to move, either.  If Cas stayed where she was, Dean got what she wanted without having to do anything.

Nick might not know Cas, but he knew Dean.  He slunk past to sit on her other side, two seats down, she smiled when he wasn’t looking.  He didn’t ask her to move her feet.  Good choice.

Thank you, she thought, just in case Castiel was listening.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Castiel’s hand move to the armrest she was leaning against.  It was a little close, awkward if she cared about things like that.  It got her attention, anyway, and she saw those fingers move in a way that had to be deliberate.  They made two shapes, then relaxed, and after a moment Cas pulled her hand away.

What? she thought.

This time, Cas leaned in all the way and whispered in her ear.  “You’re welcome.”

Dean didn’t smile, because the glow of the screen was plenty to see by as their eyes adjusted and no way was Nick not looking.  But she wanted to, and she thought about the hand thing long enough to come up with some crazy theories.  The one she liked best was the sign language alphabet, so she asked, Was that the sign language alphabet?

Cas moved her hand again, making a shape that had to be “Y” on the armrest.

Dean did smile this time.  On the screen, Voyager slid through the rings of a gas giant and silver sparkles made a shattering sound in the quiet theater.  Dean started trying to remember the rest of the letters.  She was signing most of the alphabet in her lap by the middle of the first episode.  There were letters she wasn’t clear on, and a couple she’d probably mixed up, but Sam would fix it for her if she asked.

It was during that second commercial that Nick turned to talk to her, and Castiel said, “You’re familiar with the manual alphabet, then.”

She would have scoffed, said, Everyone knows how to fingerspell, except then Nick would have an in and she still didn’t feel like talking to him.  “Sam tried to teach me,” she said.  “I remember most of it.”

Castiel reminded her instead, which meant she had someone else to look at, and she didn’t ask how Cas knew because angels probably knew every language there was.  Cas didn’t ask about the show.  Dean wasn’t sure if that meant she understood it or if she just didn’t care that much.  She was quiet while the show was on and helpful when it was in commercial, which was above and beyond, so Dean had a new favorite person.

The second half of the cliffhanger premiered at nine.  Chakotay got all the boos, the Doctor got all the cheers, and speculation on why Tuvok’s inhibitor didn’t last was second only to Lisa’s question about whether it was the dream that caused the individuality or the individuality that caused the dream.  Because if it was the dream, then destroying it was probably really stupid, but if it was the individuality, then why was it a recessive gene that allowed drones access?  How did drones have a shared genetic code in the first place?

Castiel paid more attention to the discussion than Dean had expected, and not without participating.  Dean was distracted enough after the show that when Nick said, “If the drones have a mechanical component that interacts with the ships, the ships must have an organic component that interacts with the drones.  Maybe that’s where the shared genes come from,” she actually listened.

“But what’s recessive if they don’t reproduce organically?” Lisa wanted to know.

“Recessive only means unexpressed,” Castiel said.  “Perhaps there is something about the assimilation process that suppresses the ability to dream collectively.”

“It seems weird that being individuals is what makes them able to be part of a collective while they’re asleep.”  Candy had joined them down in the first few rows after the show started, and again after she’d turned the lights on afterwards.  “Even if it’s not the collective.”

“Well, but it is,” Lisa said.  “Right?  The other drones were there too, attacking it.”

“The community behaves differently when free of the Queen’s influence,” Castiel said slowly.

“Some of it,” Lisa said.

“Hey,” Nick said, quiet under cover of the conversation.  “You want to get a drink or something?”

“Not really,” Dean said.  She was watching Cas talk Star Trek like it was telepathy, or hunting, or amulets and secret curse boxes.  It was kind of fun, and not in a mocking way.  More in a “that’s what I want my friends to be like” way.

“We’ll talk about the show,” Nick said.  “That’s it.  We’re done whenever you say we are.”

“We’re talking about the show now,” Dean said.

“It’d be better with beer,” Nick said.

She smiled at that, and when she looked away from Cas she realized she didn’t need to wish for friends.  She already had them.  If she hadn’t cut Nick off entirely, she might have remembered that.  Could she keep them without getting back together with him?

“Dean,” Castiel said.

“We were just leaving,” Nick said.  “Nice to see you again, Cas.”

“You wanna come with us?” Dean asked.  “We’re gonna get a drink.”

“I want a drink,” Lisa said.  “Is this an open invitation?  Where are we going?”

“Dean,” Castiel said again.  “You are aware that Nick is a siren.”

She grinned at that, because hey, Cas did notice people.  Guys, apparently.  Not girls?  Her gaydar was really broken when it came to angels.  “Yeah,” Dean said.  “He’s pretty hot.”

“I’m not speaking metaphorically,” Castiel said.

Dean looked at him reflexively.  Nick was staring at her, and her smile faded.  He looked frozen.  Frightened, to her trained eye.  Caught between running and lashing out, and it was the fact that she couldn’t kill him that made her not want to try.

“Or I could just go,” Nick said, very carefully.

“Are we going somewhere?” Eric was asking.  “I vote for ice cream; is that an option?”

“Ice cream,” Tikwa called from the other side of the aisle.  “I want ice cream too!”

“I’ll come with you,” Dean said, stepping away from Cas.  “Be right back.”

“No, it’s cool.”  Nick backed up with every move she made, headed for the door in reverse.  “I’ll see you later.  Call me.”

“We can bring food in here,” Candy was saying.  “Watch another episode.”

“Do we have other episodes?” Tikwa asked.

Come out if I yell, Dean thought, as clearly as she could.  She glanced back at Cas, who didn’t look happy but nodded anyway.  Since when did her roommate protect her?

“I have the fifth season of Next Generation in my bag,” Eric said.

“You just carry that around with you?” Lisa asked.

“It was for a presentation,” Eric was saying when Dean let the door swing shut behind her.

“Nick,” she said, because he didn’t look like he planned to wait.  “Seriously?”

He paused long enough to eye her.  Like he was looking for a weapon, and seriously?  She’d need someone he’d infected first, and if it wasn’t her then who?  “I didn’t freak because I thought you were crazy,” he said.

When he found out she was a hunter.  “You totally thought I was crazy,” she said.

Nick rolled his eyes.  “Impersonating humans since 1991,” he said.  “It’s called acting.”

But not killing them.  “Why?” Dean wanted to know.

“Let’s talk about this later,” Nick said, taking another step back.  “From a distance.”

“We were together for a year and a half,” she said.

“Guess we both had secrets,” Nick said.  “Night, Dean.”

He took off, and she thought maybe she should follow him, except… what was she going to do?  If they fought now, like this, he would win.  She couldn’t believe he’d been after prey while she was with him, because edge or not, she wouldn’t have missed that.  So she had no evidence he’d killed anyone and she couldn’t kill him even if she did.

It made her night even weirder, but she let him go.

Castiel must have heard her mental what the fuck because she came through the theater doors almost immediately.  “You’re unharmed,” she said.  Like it was fine to talk like that where anyone could hear.

Dean did it, of course, but that didn’t make it okay.

“He left,” Dean said.

Cas didn’t reply, which was probably fair since that was obvious.  She did say, “I assume, then, that you did not know he was a siren,” and Dean thought that was just as obvious.

“No, I didn’t fucking know,” she snapped.  “I wouldn’t have been with him if I knew.  I don’t date monsters!”

“I see,” Castiel said.

“I’m gonna go,” Dean said after a moment.  Castiel was weird, not mean.  If there was anyone who didn’t deserve Dean’s temper it was probably her.  “If you’re staying, tell everyone good night for me.”

“I have no reason to stay,” Cas told her.

“Coming back to the room?” Dean asked.  Creepy night like this, she wouldn’t mind someone to walk with.  “We should get out of here before they start a Deep Space 9 marathon.”

“The Bajoran series,” Castiel said.  She didn’t answer otherwise, but she fell into step with Dean when she moved toward the stairs.  “Do you prefer not to watch those episodes?”

“They’re all right.”  Dean didn’t have anything against Deep Space 9 other than terrible lighting--it was a mining station; you’d think they’d have flashlights at least--but she wasn’t in the mood right now.  “We should watch the original series.  It’s a classic.”

“It’s significantly older than the others,” Castiel said.  “Is it not?”

“It’s from the sixties,” Dean said.  “It still works.”

“I have enjoyed reading the books,” Cas offered.

“Good.”  She liked seeing Cas read books she’d recommended, but she wasn’t going to say it.  “TV show next.  We should do the movies sometime too; they did a better job with Vulcan the second time around.”

Explaining the movies took time.  More than she’d thought, actually.  She’d always taken them for granted, so it was strange trying to summarize the whole story in a few minutes.  After that she was pretty sure Cas was only nodding to distract her, to give her something else to think about, and since when were they like that?  Protecting each other, looking out for each other, being all… friendly?

Since always, she knew that.  It had been that way with Cas from the beginning, even if the beginning was only a week ago.  What she didn’t get was why.  What did she have in common with an angel, anyway?

They’d gotten to the fifth movie by the time they reached the Lighthouse, and that was actually the easiest one to explain because it was just everyone running around having fun until someone convinced them they needed forgiveness.  Then they stopped caring about anything else until they realized it was all a lie and rock monsters were after them.  Sort of.

Cas seemed most interested in that one, but that was probably just because it had God in it.  She wondered if Sybok counted as a pilgrim or a priest, and in the middle of arguing over whether freak snowstorms actually did happen in Yellowstone she realized what Castiel’s explanation of her family life would mean for an angel.  Her father was gone.  No one called Anna “Anael” any more.  The siblings had raised each other, and Cas and Rachel were hunting angels.

“Hey,” Dean began.  She managed to stop herself just before she said, Are we living in a godless universe?  Because Cas was maybe the one person she knew who could answer that question.  And also, probably, the one person she shouldn’t ask.  That wasn’t very nice, right?  Hey, did your dad abandon all of us, or just you?

“Never mind,” she said, lowering her voice as they passed the living room.  There wasn’t anyone in there, but they were technically into campus quiet hours.  The Lighthouse posted the same.  The rest of the house could make life pretty miserable for her if she woke up the wrong person.

They were on the stairs when she heard Castiel murmur, “I don’t know.”

Damn.  So much for random thoughts being difficult to understand.  “You didn’t have to answer that,” she whispered over her shoulder.  “I didn’t ask for a reason.”

She stopped at the top of the stairs, putting a hand behind her to warn Cas.  Their door had been forced.  Not damaged, not even obviously tampered with, but the marker note closest to the handle was smudged.  The top corner of the door always stuck when they let it fall shut from the inside, only meeting the doorjamb when they yanked it closed on their way out.  It was stuck now.

“Someone’s in the room,” Dean said under her breath.

“It’s Sam,” Castiel said at the same time.

Dean swung around.  “You can tell that?”

Cas nodded, eyes flicking to her and then back to the door.

Dean pushed the door open, because either Cas would tell her if something creepy was going on or she’d bail Dean out when it went sideways.  Dean told herself she trusted Cas because she had no choice: something as powerful as an angel turned on her and she was toast anyway.  If it came to it, though, Cas was safe the way Sam was safe, and she had no idea why.

Sam was sitting at Dean’s desk.  There was a book open in front of her, but she looked up when they came in.  “Hey,” she said awkwardly, watching Dean search the room with her eyes.  Everything was off: the blanket on Dean’s bed was unwrinkled, the pillow on Castiel’s side had been fluffed.  The chair at Cas’ desk was slightly askew, no longer exactly aligned to the edge of the rug, and the pens on her desk lined up with the books instead of the calendar.  Dean’s headphones faced in instead of out and her phone charger had been turned over.

“You tossed the room,” Dean said.

“Yeah,” Sam said.  “I’m sorry; Mom asked.  I figured it’d be worse if I left.”

“You tossed the fucking room,” Dean repeated, slamming the door shut behind Cas.  “What’d I do to deserve it this time?  What’d Cas do?  It’s her room too; you think you can just come in and mess up her stuff?”

“I told her it was a bad idea,” Sam said.  “I did, I swear.  I tried not to mess it up too much.”

“Oh, yeah, going through someone’s stuff is totally invisible,” Dean scoffed.  “Great.  Won’t even know you were here.  I hope you found what you were looking for.”

“Look,” Sam said with a sigh.  “You know Mom doesn’t believe in angels.  She was worried.  That’s all.”

“So she made you search my room,” Dean said.  “For what?  Drugs?”

“Hexbags,” Sam said.  “Spell foci, evil amulets.  I don’t know.”

“Sure, nice,” Dean said.  “Glad you knew what you were looking for.”

“Dean, it sounds weird,” Sam said.  “You move into the religious dorm, you start talking about angels and demon armies.  What’s she supposed to think?”

“Pretty sure there’s no question where searching my room is the answer,” Dean snapped.

“Yeah,” Sam said.  “You’re right.  That was over the line.”

“I guess you can say that now that you didn’t find anything,” Dean said.

“Maybe she can,” Sam said.  “I didn’t like it to begin with, and I shouldn’t have done it.  I’m sorry.”

Like their mom had ever admitted she was wrong.  Dean didn’t expect anything groundbreaking.  “Maybe we should get a better lock,” she muttered.

“I can alter the door such that it is impossible for others to open,” Cas remarked.  Like this was her problem.  Like she was even part of this conversation, except that, yeah.  She kind of was, right?  She was if Dean’s mom said she was, and sending Sam pretty much confirmed it.

“We won’t be able to tell people to come in,” Dean said.  “We’ll have to get up and answer the door when someone knocks.”

“And let them out again,” Cas agreed.  “Or we could simply leave the door ajar when we’re here.”

“I don’t like having it open,” Dean said.

“Unlocked, then,” Castiel said.  “The ward could be applied to the lock instead of the door.”

“I’m not gonna make a habit of breaking into your room,” Sam interrupted.  “Come on.  It was a lousy thing to do.  I said I’m sorry; I won’t do it again.”

Until the next time Mom asks, Dean thought.  She managed not to say it.  She’d done plenty of stuff she didn’t want to because Mom had said so: hunters worked together or they died alone, and they all knew it.

“Whatever,” Dean said aloud.  “She probably wasn’t happy when you told her you didn’t find anything.”

“She wanted to know if I think Cas is an angel,” Sam admitted.  “I said yeah, of course I do.”

Dean scowled.  “Well, what’d you do that for?  Now she’s gonna send Addie to search your room.”

Sam actually laughed at that.  “She’s welcome to try,” she said.  “You know how much she’d find.”

Sam’s room was a shrine to Charmed as a cover for her extensive apothecary and traveling research library.  Her roommate thought it was adorable.  Dean thought it was hilarious.  Their mom went back and forth between annoyed and amused.  Mostly, Dean thought, because it was hard to tell the difference between real and fake at a glance.  Sam was a very thorough “fan.”

“Who’s Addie?” Castiel wanted to know.

“Sister,” Dean said.

“Younger,” Sam added.  “She lives at home with Mom.”

“I think I would like to see her try to search your room,” Dean decided.  “Aside from the fairness issue, it’d be the funniest thing I’ve seen in a long time.”

There was noise in the hallway, and by unspoken agreement they all paused to listen.  It was someone on the stairs, Dean thought.  Whispering, the way she and Cas had been.  So two someones.  It was good to know how much people could hear from the other side of the door.

Not enough to make out the conversation, apparently.  Castiel must have known who they were, but she didn’t say anything and Dean wasn’t going to ask in front of Sam.  Not that it was any of her business either, but she might have pressed her luck if they’d been alone.

Instead, Castiel said, “We’re not supposed to have overnight guests.”

Dean almost laughed, because no way did Cas care.  Or have room to talk if she did, with her sisters crashing the place at all hours.  Sam’s expression was so worth it.  She gave Dean a look like, Really?

Dean just smirked back at her, because hey.  People were allowed to be on her side.  No matter what Cas thought, it didn’t happen that often.

“Okay,” Sam said.  She lifted her hands in a gesture of surrender.  “I’m going.”

She did go, taking her book with her, and Dean didn’t walk her out.  Sam was a big girl.  Dean would let it go, because she let everything go when it was Sam.  But she wasn’t gonna play guest and guardian to the person who’d pulled their room apart.

When the door closed, she gave Cas an appraising look.  “Hey,” she said.  Dean was mostly joking when she asked, “You’re not a guardian angel, are you?”

Cas didn’t look like she thought it was funny.  “I’m a warrior of God,” she said.

It wasn’t a no, Dean decided.

Then Castiel added, “I should go,” and, uncertainly, “Is it all right to leave you alone?”

On the other hand, having a guardian angel wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.  “I’m fine,” Dean said.  “You hunting demons again?”

“If need be,” Castiel said.  The evasiveness was insulting.

“Is it all right to let you go alone?” Dean countered.  “You didn’t come back in such hot shape yesterday.”

“You’re welcome to join us,” Castiel said.

Dean just stared at her, waiting for the rest of it.  Nothing else seemed to be coming, and finally she had to ask, “Did you just invite me hunting with you?”

Castiel frowned.  “Yes.”

“Then yeah,” Dean said, even if she had no idea what she was doing.  “I’m in.”

There was a knock on the door.  “Rachel,” Castiel said, more quietly.  “Are you willing to hunt with her?  I know humans can be very specific about who they work with.”

Dean shrugged.  “Your hunt, your rules,” she said.

Castiel nodded.  She opened the door and waited for Rachel to enter, which Dean figured meant Rachel already knew what was going on.  Any other night they would have just left.

She didn’t see Castiel reaching for her until her flinch reflex kicked in and Cas told her to hold still.  Why she listened, she had no idea, but two fingers touched her forehead and the floor dropped out from under her.  Her stomach twisted.  Her whole body seized.  And she was standing in a brightly lit room somewhere, a Twister mat on the floor and beer pong on the table and it could have been any one of the parties on frat row except they were usually darker.

There were people everywhere.

“There is a dark-haired woman with a tiger on her shirt,” Castiel whispered.  She had to be way too close for Dean to hear her in this crowd.  “Please follow her.  No one will see you.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Dean hissed.  “Where are we?”

“Follow Jake,” Castiel said.  “Prevent injury to humans if possible.”

Dean turned around, and yeah, Castiel was like an inch off her right shoulder.  She must have been talking to Rachel, because her sister gave a curt nod and disappeared without taking a single step.  “Is she invisible?” Dean blurted out.

“No human eye will detect us,” Castiel said.

“But we were like that already,” Dean guessed, frowning.  “Where’d she go?”

“Wherever Jake Talley is,” Castiel said.  “As you must follow Ava.  Her powers are most like Sam’s; I thought you’d be interested.”

“Wait, what?”  Dean glared at her.  “How did we get here?  And what the hell are we doing?”

“We flew,” Castiel said.  “We are monitoring the demon-enhanced children of Sam’s generation in an effort to determine who is manipulating them.”

“Sam’s generation,” Dean repeated, even though she probably should be more worried about the flying.  Cas was an angel, and she had wings that could carry passengers from one place to another in the blink of an eye.  Great.  That was just great.

“They were all born in 1983,” Castiel said.  “Ava is leaving.  Call me if she interacts with anyone not human.”

“I didn’t bring my phone,” Dean said.  Which was stupid on so many levels, but she hadn’t exactly seen this coming when she’d said yes.  They could be anywhere right now.  All Dean had was the hope that Cas wasn’t actually trying to kill her.

“That didn’t stop you in the theater,” Castiel said.

Right.  Great.  Her monster roommate was going to hear her thinking if she needed help.  This night just got better.

Castiel was gone.  Dean hadn’t even blinked; she just wasn’t there anymore.  Cas, you fucker, she thought.  If I get killed, Sam is gonna be pissed.

Which probably wouldn’t help the case for Sam, if it came to that.  Ava was like Sam, she thought, turning around as she let her gaze slide over the room.  Like Sam how?  Her powers?  Sam didn’t have any powers.  Unless being socially conscious was a superpower.  Or being super obnoxious.

Being psychic, Dean thought, just as she saw a flash of tiger by the door.  Sam’s visions.  The kids with demon influence had powers, and Ava’s were like Sam’s.  Dean started after her as fast as she could get through the press of people.

It was easier than she’d expected.  Being invisible didn’t mean people couldn’t feel her, apparently, but it did mean that no one knew who to blame when she bumped into them.  A couple of them complained, and one snapped at the person behind them, but it turned out that when she pushed past people who couldn’t see her they mostly let it go.

She should have asked Cas if people could hear her, too.

The door to the outside was at the top of a flight of stairs, which meant she was in a basement.  It let out into a yard with a volleyball net, and it took her a second to get her bearings but hey, that was the church that held the big yard sale every year.  That was Store 24 across the street.  They were less than a mile from the Lighthouse, and maybe angel flight wasn’t instantaneous after all because that wasn’t much of a test.

Ava was on her knees beside the steps, one hand braced against the ground.  She looked like she was throwing up.  She was getting jeers from the street, which meant she was vulnerable, and no one from the frat group on the far side of the lawn was paying any attention.

Dean cursed under her breath, because Ava wasn’t throwing up.  She was seeing something.  Dean knew that look, the way you hunched over when it was too much.  If Ava’s visions were anything like Sam’s, they weren’t pleasant.  She could be out of it for minutes.

Cas, she thought, when she saw two guys on the sidewalk vault over the stone retaining wall.  CAS.  She might as well be speaking aloud, but she had no idea what Cas could make out and what she couldn’t.  Make me visible again.  Make me visible again now; I’m not kidding.  Make me visible again.  NOW.

She was crouched down beside Ava when the girl whimpered, and she put out a hand without thinking about it.  The girl jerked away from her, but her unfocused eyes stopped on Dean and she batted at the hand on her shoulder.  “I’m fine, I’m fine,” she babbled.  “Just leave me alone.”

Dean looked up, and sure enough, the guys from the sidewalk had seen her too.  They’d stopped where they were, halfway between the wall and the house, but they were big and they weren’t gonna hesitate for long.  “Ava,” she said, as calmly as she could.  “Come inside, okay?  Your brother’s looking for you.”

“No, I don’t, I can’t--”  Ava was shaking her head, and Dean didn’t know what she was seeing but she wasn’t as violent as Sam sometimes got.  “I have to stop them.  I have to save him.”

Shit.  If she had death visions, her life really did suck.  Dean got an arm under her shoulders and shifted, tugging her to her feet without much resistance.  “Back inside,” she said.  “We’re gonna do this together, okay?”

To her surprise, Ava mumbled, “Yeah, okay.”

“Dean,” Castiel’s voice said.

“Jesus,” Dean snapped, trying not to jostle Ava as she stiffened.  “What!”

The guys from the sidewalk were rapidly retreating, and she’d finally caught the attention of the group on the other side of the lawn.  All they did was wave, though, and maybe they were concerned and maybe they were mocking--Dean figured if she couldn’t tell, they were better ignored.

“We’re going inside,” Dean said, and would you look at that.  Cas held the door for them.

Dean sat Ava down on the stairs inside, but she was already looking like… well.  Like she’d been helped by someone she didn’t know and she wasn’t sure she wanted to.  “Thanks,” she said, pushing away from Dean to lean against the wall.  She didn’t stand up.  “I’m okay now.  I’ll be fine.  You can go.”

“What did you see?” Dean asked.

Ava looked at her warily, but she didn’t look confused.

“My sister,” Dean said.  “She has visions, too.  They’re not fun.”

“No,” Ava said slowly, her gaze sliding past Dean and up.  Dean turned to look, but Cas was just standing there watching them.  In an admittedly creepy way, but hey.  It was a frat party.  What did she expect?

“You said you had to save someone,” Dean said, turning back to Ava.  “Is it someone you know?”

After a pause, Ava said, “Yes.  He’s been… helping.  Helping me, with my--”  She stopped, but the way she waved vaguely at her head reminded Dean of Sam.

“And he’s in trouble,” Dean prompted.  “Tonight, you think?”

“I don’t know.”  Now she just looked worried.  “Maybe.”

“Where is he,” Castiel said, and it wasn’t a question.

This time Ava glared at her.  Dean opened her mouth, ready to smooth it over, but Cas just nodded like she had all the answer she needed.  “I will go,” she told Dean.  “Will you stay with her?”

Dean scrambled to her feet.  “You’re not going anywhere without me.”

Castiel reached out as she did, probably going for her forehead again even as Dean grabbed for her shoulder to keep her from disappearing alone.  Their hands met somewhere in the middle, and Dean had time to think, Great, lesbian lovers leave psychic girl alone in frathouse, before the disorientation knocked her sideways.  Flying with angels felt like a car crash you walked away from.

That you mostly walked away from, she decided when she stumbled.  Where were they this time?  Did Ava think a whole address, or did Cas just lift the image from her head?  Because if Cas could get things that were nonverbal, Dean was in more trouble than she’d realized.

And she really hoped she wasn’t seeing double.  She squinted at the two mirror images facing off across a desk piled with paper and glasses and a keyboard propped up under a giant black computer monitor.  Where the fuck are we?

“The Writing Center,” Cas said, and she hadn’t actually meant that to be overheard.  “They’re twins.”

On the other hand, that was useful information.  “So I’m not hallucinating,” she said aloud.  “Good to know.”

“You were just leaving,” the twin on the right said.  They didn’t actually look alike at all, Dean thought.  They just… stood in exactly the same way, or something.

“We were not,” Castiel replied, and yeah, she was completely oblivious to the “violent showdown” vibes that were just rolling off these two.  They weren’t holding weapons that Dean could see, but that meant almost nothing in the monster world.  Dean was pretty sure they should be anywhere but here right now.

“I think we were,” Dean said.  “Come on, Cas.”

“Neither of them is the target,” Castiel said.

“Great,” Dean said.  “So we don’t care and they can duke it out.  Right?”

“Um, hello,” said another voice.  Coming from… under the desk?

Of course, Dean thought.  Because that was where she would hide when two not-at-all sinister-looking college kids stared each other down like the poster boys for mind control.  No reason the desk wouldn’t be a safe place.

“Help,” the desk voice added.

“Let me guess,” Dean said with a sigh.  “That’s the target.”

“There’s no one important here,” the twin on the left said, and what, did saying it make it true?  Did Dean just not care about them now that he’d said it?  She hadn’t cared about them before he said it; he wasn’t going to win any special prizes in the psychic powers department.

“You’ve received training,” Castiel said.  “Tell me who is providing it.”

“Why don’t you ask your friend.”

The one on the right was creepier than the one on the left, Dean decided.  And that was before she realized what she was being accused of.  “Hey, what?” she said.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Dean,” Castiel said.  “Do not engage them.”

“Your friend doesn’t want you to get hurt,” the right twin said.

In retrospect, Dean wouldn’t have any idea who they were talking about, but in the moment she scoffed and it made perfect sense.  “Too late for that,” she said, and Castiel looked away from them long enough to glare at her.

The twin on the right smiled.  It was a small smile, definitely weirder than the vacant expression of the left twin.  “That why you have a human bodyguard now?  You should walk away, angel.”

It shouldn’t seem like a good idea, but it did.

Cas, Dean thought.  That’s not such a bad plan.

Castiel walked around the desk, ignoring the twin who snapped, “You’re not going to touch me,” to press her fingers to his forehead.  Instead of disappearing in a flurry of invisible angel wings, the twin on the right crumpled to the ground and Cas turned her back on him.  The remaining twin opened his mouth.

“Say nothing,” Castiel told him.  “If you speak, I will be forced to incapacitate you.”

Dean wanted to say, Nice trick, but Cas sounded cold and mean and maybe right now wasn’t the best time to get in her way.  Even as she thought it, Cas glanced at her and said, “They exhibit a highly localized form of mind control.  Their spoken suggestion is perceived as truth.”

Dean frowned.  “What,” she said at last, “like a jedi or something?  They tell you to do something and you do it?”

“I don’t know what a jedi is,” Castiel said.  “It won’t work on me, and given your weak response it seems they’re not very good at it.  I assume they come here for training, as Ava does.”

The twin still standing looked alarmed, but the loud bang came second.  “Ow,” the voice under the desk complained.  There was the sound of shuffling.  “Uh, no,” the voice added, as a curly head poked over the desktop.  “I’m not training anyone.  Andy just comes here to steal my… uh.  Alcohol?”

“Share it,” the twin protested.  “Since when do you know Web, anyway?”

“How should I know,” the other guy grumbled, using the desk to pull himself to his feet.  “Maybe he tells me he’s you and comes here every week, I don’t know.”

“Dude,” Andy protested.  “You said it doesn’t work if you know the truth.  You’d see through it.”

“Well, he didn’t show up stoned,” the desk guy said, thoughtful like he was actually considering it.  “So yeah.  Maybe.”

“See,” Andy said.  “He’s a first time visitor.”  He looked satisfied for several seconds before the expression started to evaporate.  “Wait, why is he a visitor?  How did he even find you?”

“He followed you.”  Castiel was staring at the kid on the floor, probably looking into his mind like the jedi she’d never heard of.  Could jedi even get anything from you if you were unconscious?  And why couldn’t they put people to sleep by touching them?  Jeez, Cas really was a Vulcan: she had her own nerve pinch and everything.

“He knew I was an angel,” Castiel added.  She looked at Andy.  “Your powers don’t include telepathy, correct?”

“No way.”  Andy was shaking his head, apparently unfazed by the mention of angels.  “Strictly a power of suggestion thing.”

Cas did tend to say it in a matter-of-fact way that was easy to ignore.  On the other hand,  Andy was probably mooching more than beer from hide-under-the-desk guy, so they might be used to shared hallucinations.  Or maybe they’d met Cas before.  Dean’s life had gotten a lot weirder since knowing Cas, and a couple of weeks ago she wouldn’t have said that was possible.

“And you say you’re not training them?”  Castiel was staring at desk guy now, and the way she said it made it clear she expected an answer.

“Uh,” he said.  “Them?  These guys, you mean?  I didn’t meet Andy’s, uh, brother until today.”

“Are you guiding people with psychic powers to some nefarious end?” Castiel demanded.

Desk guy now looked freaked out in addition to confused.  “What?”

“Or a good end,” Dean offered.  When Cas frowned at her she added, “I’m just staying.  It doesn’t have to be nefarious.  Ava said he was trying to help.”

“Who’s Ava?” the desk guy said plaintively.  “I don’t even know an Ava.  At least I’m pretty sure I don’t.  She doesn’t… uh, answer phones or anything, does she?”

Andy said “Brilcat” like a cough, as though they might not hear him if he pretended to be stupid.

“What?” the other guy asked.

“Brilcat?” Dean repeated.  “What is that, a fake name?”

“It’s her screen name,” Andy muttered.  “You know, like on the internet.  That’s how we met Chuck.”

“Who’s we?” Castiel wanted to know.

“Uh.”  Andy looked from one of them to the other.  “Me and… uh, Ava?  Yeah.  Me and Ava.”

“And your brother,” Dean said, glancing in his direction.

The floor where the more obnoxious twin had been was empty.  Dean would have taken a step back if she didn’t know better, if all the ghost stories didn’t tell you to hold fucking still.  She stiffened, though, and Cas either noticed or followed her gaze out of habit.  The other guy was gone.

“Never seen him before in my life.”  Desk guy seemed pretty sure of himself for someone who hadn’t recognized him a few minutes ago.  “Not really convinced he was actually here.”

“Whoa, where did he go?”  Andy looked more freaked out than Desk guy.

Cas just looked annoyed.  “Someone else is manipulating them.”

Dean rolled her eyes.  “You think?”  Desk guy couldn’t plot his way out of a paper bag, and anyone who wanted Andy as part of their army was gonna have to try a lot harder.

“Yes,” Castiel said.  “Give Chuck your phone number, please.”

Dean stared at her.  “Why?”

Castiel stared back like she was deliberately missing the point.  “So he can call you if he encounters or is contacted by someone interested in the children.”

“The children,” Dean repeated, because the other questions were interested? and why me?  She was pretty sure the answers to those were even more obvious: yeah, interested, and because Cas didn’t carry a phone.  Apparently not everyone was invited to think telepathically at her in the event of an emergency.

“Uh,” Desk guy said.  Chuck.  Cas called him Chuck.  “What children?”

Dean rolled her eyes when Cas started to look around like she hadn’t heard.  “These kids you’re helping,” she told Chuck.  “You know who they are.”

Chuck didn’t look convinced.  “No offense?” he said.  “I don’t even know who you are.”

“Hey, when were you born?” Andy wanted to know.

“I’m not one of you,” Dean said.  “I just don’t want to see someone take advantage of you.  That’s all.”

“Hey,” Chuck protested.

“Not you,” Dean snapped.  Seriously, Cas couldn’t help her out here?  “Whoever sent the other guy, probably.  Any ideas about that?”

“Web?” Andy said.  “He’s been weirder than usual lately, but we don’t talk much, so.  I dunno.  We just met a few months ago.”

Dean frowned at him.  “You just met?”

Andy shrugged.  “I was adopted.”

That didn’t make any sense, but Dean didn’t really care so it was hard to think it mattered.  “Whatever,” she said.  “You should probably have my number too.”  She copied it again and shoved both pieces of paper in Chuck’s direction.  “Let me know if Web shows up again, or if anyone else tries to mess you up.”

“Yeah, and what are you gonna do?” Andy wanted to know.

“Stop them,” Dean said.

“Why?”  Chuck looked taken aback when they all turned to look at him, but he kept going.  “I mean… what do you care?”

Dean wanted to ask why he cared, why the kids were coming to him for help and what he could possibly tell them.  But Cas wasn’t saying a damn thing, and that was starting to be disturbing.  If one or both of them was about to disappear, she’d better leave these guys with a way to get help if they needed it.

“That’s what I do,” she told him.  “I hunt the creepy stuff that hunts people, okay?  The stuff that no one else believes.  I stop it.”

She saw Chuck shoot a nervous look in Castiel’s direction.  And yeah, Cas was coming off just as weird, but hey.  They weren’t the ones meeting in a deserted university building after hours to practice mind control.  “Don’t mind her,” Dean said.  “She’s just an angel.”

Andy didn’t react this time, either, but Chuck opened his mouth like he was about to ask a question.

Castiel cut him off.  “We must go,” she said.  “Dean.”

Dean turned in time to see Cas coming toward her, and she managed not to flinch when Cas reached for her face.  This time she heard a rustle and felt the movement of air, but nothing else happened.  Nothing at all: no disorientation, no falling sensation, and most of all, no difference in their surroundings.

They were still standing in the dimly lit Writing Center office, with Andy and Chuck behind the desk and Castiel’s fingers on her forehead.

Dean frowned, and Castiel let go of her to put a finger over her own lips.  The universal gesture for quiet.

Are we invisible? Dean thought, as carefully as she could.  Then, less intentionally, she thought, You’re faking them out.

Castiel nodded, not taking her eyes off of Dean.

There was complete silence in the room for almost a minute, which was more than long enough for Dean to wonder if she could still hear anything at all.  Or if maybe one of them could tell she and Cas were still here.  They weren’t exactly innocent bystanders in this whole mess.  Whatever it was.

Then Chuck said, “Wanna smoke?”

Andy said, “Hell yeah,” and that was the beginning and the end of their conversation.

Dean probably thought too much about how long they were going to stand there in the minutes that followed.  She knew she thought too much about why Cas didn’t look away, what she was wearing and why, and did it really make sense that angels needed to breathe?  She tried to think more about angels in general than Cas in particular, but she probably failed.

When Cas finally tipped her head toward the door, Dean nodded quickly.  Cas turned and walked toward it, which seemed strange, but Dean followed because what else was she going to do?  The door was closed, but Cas reached back as she slowed down and caught her hand, pulling her through the closed door without any resistance at all.  Dean opened her eyes on the other side and tried to relax, but that was weird.  That was really weird.

They were still inside the building but this time Cas followed the hallway and pushed the front door open like a normal person.  No alarms went off, so maybe it was a 24-hour building after all.  Dean didn’t spend much time in the Writing Center, given that most of her work either started or ended in a different language.

“That was unproductive,” Castiel said.

Dean raised an eyebrow, because since when was she the patient one here?  “So far,” she said.  “Pretty sure we’ll hear from them again.”

“They will require increased observation.”  It was hard to tell whether that was agreement or not, and Dean didn’t have time to wonder when she added, “Do you prefer to remain here or return to Ava?”

Her first reaction was no.  Her second reaction was more incredulous: this is how they hunt.  Rachel and Cas might be soldiers, but they couldn’t be mauling their way through campus or Dean would have heard about it before now.  Someone would have.    They were stalking, tracking, hunting… not killing.

Yet.

“You’re doing a stakeout,” she said aloud.  Just to make sure.  “You’re following all the kids until they lead you to whoever you’re looking for.”

“No,” Castiel said.  “Only the ones who are using their powers.”

Great.  Who even knew what that meant?  Especially for kids with passive powers like Ava.  And Sam.  It wasn’t like they could turn it off.  “What does that mean?” Dean blurted out.

“No one is following Sam,” Castiel said.  “I will make sure she stays uninvolved as long as I can.”

Dean was torn between that’s not good enough and what’s it to you?  Cas had met Sam twice, maybe three times.  The last time hadn’t made the best impression.

“She’s your sister,” Castiel said.  “Rachel is mine.  But I am your friend, and I won’t make you change your mind.”

Dean stared at her, standing there on the walk in front of the English building.  It sounded important.  She thought she could almost remember why: maybe they had talked about this before, and that was true, right?  Friends versus family?  It must have come up when they were talking about Rachel.

“Just tell me,” she said, frowning.  “If Sam’s in trouble, tell me.”

“I will protect Sam to the best of my ability,” Castiel said.

“Tell me,” Dean insisted.

“I will tell you,” Castiel repeated.

“Okay,” Dean agreed, eyeing her for signs of cover-up.  Not that she’d even been able to see them in Castiel.  Either Cas didn’t lie, or she was just too weird to do it like everyone else.  That was probably more likely.  Dean wanted to believe her anyway.

“Do you wish to continue?” Castiel asked after a moment.  “Andy and Ava should be monitored.  I must locate Web.”

“I gotta get some sleep,” Dean said, still looking for her watch out of habit.  It still wasn’t there.  She should just buy another one.  Since it didn’t look like Nick was going to turn up with hers anytime soon.  “Can you let me know if you get in trouble?  Before you get banged up, this time?”

“Of course.”  If there was the briefest hesitation before the words, she’d probably imagined it.  “I will take you back to the Lighthouse.”

“No,” Dean said, taking a step back.  “It’s fine.  I’ll walk.  I think I’ve had enough flying for one night.”

“Very well.”  Cas might miss some of the more helpful social cues, but she also seemed to miss the awkward ones.  She didn’t look offended when Dean took another step back and put her hands in her pockets.  “Thank you for your help tonight.”

That sounded like something she’d taught herself to say, and Dean couldn’t help smiling.  “Even though it was unproductive,” she said.

“The interaction was unproductive,” Castiel said.  “Locating the source of the interaction was useful.”

Dean shrugged.  “I’ll take it,” she said.  And then, because it was automatic, “Call me.”

Cas tilted her head, and wow, that was so not what she’d meant to say.

“If you get in trouble,” Dean said hastily.  “Um… you can do that, right?  How do you let people know if you need help?”

Castiel didn’t look any less confused.  “They know,” she said.

“Right,” Dean said.  She shouldn’t say it, but she did anyway.  “Well, it didn’t seem to help much the other night.  So.  If you need me, wake me up.”

Castiel didn’t move, but she probably got it because she said, “Yes.”

Dean looked at her a moment longer.  Then she decided they were done, and she wasn’t going to say good night because that was just stupid, so she turned around and walked away.  A breeze tugged at her hair, and she told herself not to look back.  She glanced over her shoulder anyway.

Cas was gone.

“Stay safe,” she muttered under her breath.  “Stupid angel.”

She should call Sam.  Warn her about the random powers ultimatum.  She should tell her about the other kids, let her know what the angels were up to.  She had no idea what time it was.  Then she remembered she was still pissed at Sam, and she figured it could wait until morning.

The light in the lounge was on when she got back to the Lighthouse.  She glanced in as she went by, and she saw Jesse in there on her laptop.  Dean wondered if she was working or just playing solitaire.  She raised a hand in greeting, and Jesse looked up long enough to wave back.

The light was still on in the room she shared with Cas, too.  The whole flying thing wasn’t big on preparation.  She took her toothbrush to the bathroom, checked her phone when she came back, and raised an eyebrow.  Sam, Nick, and… Rachel?  It was enough to make her listen to their messages – backwards, anyway – while she put on her pajamas.

“Fine, be mad,” Sam’s said.  “But I’m taking a picture of this for you.  ’Night, jerk.”

“Bitch,” Dean muttered under her breath.

Nick’s message was annoyingly similar: “You lied to me too,” he said.  “I still want to talk.”

That was it; he just hung up.  At least it was shorter than the messages he’d left the week before.  She shook her head, checking the time on Rachel’s message.  Before she’d come for Cas, so.  Obviously not urgent.

“Dean,” Rachel’s voice said.  “We’re doing crafts on Sunday after church.  Making decorations for the lounge.  Castiel would be more likely to come if you’re there.”

Apparently no one was going to say goodbye except for Sam, because that was the end of Rachel’s message.  She liked that they got to the point.  On the other hand, she wasn’t really in a mood to be asked for favors without getting anything in return.  She’d feel differently in the morning or she wouldn’t, and either way she wasn’t calling anyone back tonight.

She fell asleep as soon as she closed her eyes.

It was raining when her alarm went off, and if she’d had class she would have skipped.  It was raining hard.  Hard like, even without wind an umbrella wasn’t going to cut it.  An umbrella, coat, and boots might not even do it, and no way was she hauling all that stuff around with her at the beginning of October.

Unfortunately, she had work, and she wasn’t going to mess that up because of the damn weather.

Cas wasn’t back yet.  Dean might have thought, where are you? but she didn’t expect an answer.  If Cas kept reading her mind, there was gonna be trouble.  She just wasn’t sure who would get it worse: her, because she thought stupid shit all the time, or Cas, because she would care or she wouldn’t and Dean would snap at her no matter which it was.

Hadn’t she told Cas last week that she didn’t have any more secrets?

She cared more about Cas’ opinion now than she had at first.

It came to her when she was loading up her backpack: we don’t choose our family, she’d told Cas.  We only choose our friends.  She’d said Cas hadn’t done anything to change her mind, up to and including being a monster, and Cas had reminded her of it the night before.

Cas wanted to be her friend.  Dean wasn’t used to that… not from someone who actually knew.  Hunters’ kids were few and far between and their mom hadn’t let them tell anyone else.  So she either lied to everyone or she didn’t talk to them at all.  Neither made for great best friend material.

Not that she and Cas were best friends.  Whatever.  Dean shook it off, because she thought about Cas plenty when Cas was actually around.  She didn’t need to pine over her the rest of the time, too.

The rain should have been annoying enough to distract her, except that she just wondered whether angels got wet or not.  Or cold.  They didn’t have to eat; they shouldn’t get cold, right?  Maybe that was why Cas didn’t have many clothes.  Dean had never seen her wear a sweatshirt.

The garage was busy and cold in the rain.  Ben wouldn’t turn on the heat, so they wore bay sweatshirts and pretended like they needed fingerless gloves whenever he walked by.  It was silly and untrue, but it made them laugh and he bought them coffee and pizza for lunch.  Dean stayed an extra hour to finish the work on someone’s exhaust.

Josh joined her at the sink when she was scrubbing up afterwards.  “You’re here late,” he said.  “The pizza buy your loyalty?”

“Nah,” she said, tossing the towel at him.  “It was the coffee.  Pizza was just a bonus.”

Castiel was still reading Jean Lorrah when she got back to the room.  She was also wearing the same shirt she’d bled all over two days ago, and Dean stopped just inside the door to stare at her.  No way had she forgotten that shirt.  “When did you do laundry?” she blurted out.

Cas looked up immediately, which was a nice change.  “Excuse me?”

“Your shirt,” Dean said, dropping her bag on the floor and trying to push wet hair out of her face.  “It’s clean.”

Cas looked down at it like she hadn’t noticed.  “Yes,” she agreed.

Okay.  Dean tried to shrug it off.  “Didn’t know you had time to go to the laundromat,” she said.  Which was stupid, right?  Because Cas didn’t sleep.  She could be there at two in the morning for all Dean knew.  “Never mind.”

Instead of looking back at her, Castiel got up and went over to her desk.  She took something out of the top drawer, and when she turned back to Dean it was clear that it was a pen.  Without a word, she pulled the sleeve of her blouse tight across the back of her hand and put the pen on it.  Dean could only stare as she drew a five-pointed star on the white fabric and held it up.

Holding Dean’s gaze, Castiel waited.

When Dean looked back at her sleeve, it was unmarked.

“I didn’t go to the laundromat,” Castiel said.

“Huh,” Dean said, because it seemed like some response was called for.  “That’s cool.”

She got a smile for that, so she smiled back.  “Hey, do you get wet?  In the rain?  You must have been outside today, but your hair’s dry.  Unless you, you know.  Flew everywhere.”

“Flight is more conspicuous during the daytime,” Castiel said.  “The rain touches me, as it does you.  But I can dry myself with little effort.”

“Nice,” Dean said.  “Wish I had that trick.”

Cas tipped her head, giving Dean a look that probably meant something.  “Do you?”

Dean raised an eyebrow at her.  “What, are you magical or something?”

Castiel lifted two fingers, and Dean tried not to flinch.  The whole flying thing was weirder looking back on it than it had been at the time.  But she let Cas step into her, and when those fingers touched her forehead, nothing happened.

Except that her hair wasn’t wet anymore.  Or her shirt, or her sneakers.  Or her jeans.

“Okay,” Dean said.  “That’s pretty handy.”

Cas let her hand fall, but she didn’t step back.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” Dean added, because it was true and also, maybe they should talk about personal space.  Except Cas didn’t seem to have any, unless it was with Meg.  Dean didn’t want to be associated with a demon.

“Sam left you a note,” Castiel said.

She blinked.  “On the door?  I didn’t notice.”

“Under the door.”  Cas nodded at the desk behind her.

Dean turned around to find a single piece of paper on top of her books.  There was a picture at the top: Sam’s room, looking pretty much the way it always did.  Underneath, in capital letters, she’d written, “ADDIE WAS HERE.”

That explained the voice mail last night, then.

“Well, good news,” Dean said aloud.  “It’s not just us Mom doesn’t trust.”

Castiel didn’t answer.

Dean buried the picture in her bag and picked up her phone.  got ur msg, she typed.  she still here?

Addie was young but freakishly resourceful.  Dean didn’t know how she’d gotten to campus so fast in the first place, but she’d learned most of what she knew from the two of them.  She might have stuck around the same way Sam did afterwards.

yeah, Sam replied a minute later.  dinner?

mom? Dean answered.  She tossed clean clothes into a pile with her towel, reporting over her shoulder as she went.  “Addie’s still here.  Sam’s asking about dinner.”

nope, Sam’s next message said.  we should take her out.

Dean assumed she meant Addie, so she answered, can cas come?

“Mom won’t be there,” Dean said.  “You busy tonight?”

fine by me, Sam answered.

“Yes,” Castiel said.

Which made sense, right?  Except Cas only knew what she was talking about as often as she knew what Cas was talking about, so she mostly ignored it.  “The three of us are gonna get some food somewhere.  You should come if you want.”

She had all her stuff together, minus her phone, when Castiel’s voice stopped her at the door.  “I would enjoy that.”

Dean smiled at the door.  “Cool,” she said.  “If Sam calls, you might as well answer it.  Don’t let her pick that vegetarian place  on Main Street.”

“I will not,” Castiel said.

Dean went to take a shower.  When she came back, Castiel was sitting on her bed again, but for once she wasn’t reading.  At least, not fiction.  She had an actual textbook on the bed next to her – although it was closed – and there was a notebook in her lap.  She looked like she was writing something.  For class, even.

“Dude,” Dean said, staring.  “What are you doing?”

“Writing a proof of evolution,” Castiel said.  “I had intended to skip this assignment, but I have since been convinced of its merit.”

Dean wasn’t sure which part to question first, so she threw her towel over the end of the bed and checked her phone.  “Sam call?” she asked, seeing three more messages in her inbox.  All read.

“No,” Castiel said.  “She sent a text message with a location and time.  I accepted on your behalf.”

The other messages were Sam asking why Cas had Dean’s phone, and then joking that she could at least spell better than Dean.  “Great,” Dean said aloud.  “Thanks.”  She sent Sam a message saying, fu i spell gr8.

Then she added, “Wait, evolution?  What class is that for?”

“Biophysics,” Castiel said.  “I intend to invoke thermodynamics as the driving force toward equilibrium between this plane of existence and others.”

Dean considered that just long enough to be sure Cas had finally volunteered something about what she was studying.  Dean was pretty sure that had never happened before, and she didn’t know what it meant: maybe Cas thought this assignment was more interesting than usual, or maybe it was just stupid enough to warrant her intervention.  Either way, it had gotten her attention, and Dean felt obliged to warn her, “You know you’re gonna fail, right?”

Cas gave her a flat look that could have meant anything.  “You don’t believe that referencing heaven and hell on my biology midterm will lend credence to my argument?”

Dean stared at her.  “You’re gonna blow off your midterm?”

“No,” Castiel said.  “I’m going to show the professor why biology and physics are the same explanation for a phenomenon that exists independent of either.”

“You’re gonna fail,” Dean repeated.

This time, Castiel smiled slightly.  “Perhaps,” she said.

Dean finally laughed, relaxing when she realized how stupid the argument was.  “I guess you know what you’re doing,” she said, because yeah.  Cas didn’t need a passing grade on her midterm anyway.  “Forget I said anything.”

“I admit,” Castiel said, “it’s possible that the professor’s response will be interesting.”

“Yeah, let me know,” Dean said with a grin.

She put her stuff away, maybe folding some of the stuff in her bureau as she went, and she watched Cas write out of the corner of her eye.  She was right-handed.  She didn’t hunch over her notebook the way most people did.  She wrote the way she read: from a distance, like the rest of her was disconnected from what her hands were doing.

Dean got out one of her own books, because it was easier to study when someone else was doing it too.  They had at least an hour before Sam’s suggested time, and she wondered what Sam and Addie were doing.  “You mind if I crank the music?”

“No,” Cas said without looking up.  “You don’t need to use your headphones if you don’t want to.”

She couldn’t turn it up as loud if the room next door could hear it, but still.  The headphones were annoying.  And sharing the music with someone else?  She’d take it.

They listened to Zeppelin for the next forty-five minutes.  It had stopped raining by the time they left to meet Sam and Addie, which meant she didn’t get to see how normal Cas would pretend to be around her sisters.  Or she did, because Cas ate with them, and that was normal.  Sam asked Cas question after question, mostly disguised as things that sounded vaguely human, and Addie went from wary to worshipful over the course of the meal.

Dean tried not to laugh at them, but it was hard, and Sam glared at her more than once.

After the meal, Cas offered to give Addie a lift home and Dean stopped laughing.  Sam noticed and smirked at her, but seriously.  Since when did other people get to fly with Cas?  

Since when did she care?  Just like that, she knew why Sam was smirking.  She had no idea when she’d gotten possessive of her weird and alien roommate, but she was.  She was my friend first, she thought, and that was when she knew she was screwed.  Because no way had Cas not heard that.

“Will you wait for us outside?” Cas asked, perfectly polite.  She was talking to Sam and Addie, and Dean hadn’t known she knew how to do that.  The two of them exchanged glances, obviously getting the message, but they left and how did Cas make that look normal?  She couldn’t even order food like the rest of them, but she could make a private conversation happen just like that.

“You don’t seem to mind when I respond to what you’re thinking,” Castiel said.  Quick and quiet, they were still sitting in the booth and maybe no one else could hear them.  “Is this correct?”

Dean knew she was asking for it when she said, “Yeah, it’s cool.”

It was.  But she already regretted saying it.

“Are you considering a romantic relationship with me?” Castiel asked.

Dean froze, but they were sitting right next to each other and there wasn’t anywhere to go.  That wasn’t what she’d been expecting.  “No,” she said.

“Are you sexually attracted to me?” Castiel pressed.

“No!”  Dean would pull away, except that Cas would probably keep talking and if they weren’t whispering to each other then everyone was going to hear this conversation.  “I told you, I think stupid shit like that about everyone.  I can’t help it.”

“I told you it’s not a problem,” Castiel said quietly.  “I only ask because it clarifies what I’m about to say: I’m your friend, Dean.  And you are mine.  Addie is your sister, so I wish to help her.”

Dean sighed, because yeah.  That was more what she’d been expecting.  “This is about the ‘my friend first’ thing, right?”

“It seemed to bother you,” Castiel said.  “Yes.  Illogically,” she added, “since you didn’t seem particularly fond of the flight experience yourself.”

“I’m pretty illogical,” Dean told her.  “And you’re pretty nosy.  But so far we seem to get along okay, so… if you can put up with me?  I can put up with you.”

“Is that a usual thing to build a friendship on?” Castiel asked.  She looked serious, but Dean thought she was trying not to smile.  “Putting up with each other?”

“Believe me,” Dean told her, “you want it to last?  That’s the only thing you build a friendship on.”

Castiel didn’t look away.  “I want it to last,” she said.

Dean grinned, because it was laugh or run and she wasn’t going to blink first.  “Someday,” she said, “you’ll have to tell me why you’d want a thing like that.”

“Likewise,” Castiel said.

She’d meant to say, meantime, we should catch up with the others, but Castiel cut her off and somehow answering seemed more important.  “Sue me,” she said with a shrug.  “I’m lonely.”

It was more honest than she wanted to be, but Cas could read her mind, so there went that defense.

This time, Castiel did smile.  It wasn’t nervous or charming or fake like Dean’s.  It looked a little sad.  “I think we’re more alike than you realize,” she said.

Dean looked at her for a long moment, but that was all she said.

“Great,” Dean said at last.  “Well, we’re both basket cases.  Might as well catch up with my sisters before they find out.”

Castiel didn’t say anything, but she slid out of the booth and let Dean bump her shoulder on the way out.  Sam and Addie were moving a planter on the sidewalk – well, Sam was moving it and Addie was pretending to help – and that was weird enough to distract from anything Dean and Cas had been doing.  “What are you, horticulturalists now?” Dean demanded.

“Someone shoved it into the road,” Sam said.

“We’re just putting it back.”  Addie didn’t look like she was doing much of anything, but no one ever did next to Sam.  “Hey, on a scale of one to ten, how much is Mom going to freak out about an angel bringing me home?”

“On a scale of one to ten,” Sam countered, “how grounded do you want to be for breaking curfew?”

Dean and Addie looked for their watches at the same time.  Addie was wearing hers, so that helped.  “Zero?” she said, which Dean figured meant there was no way she’d make it without Cas.  That had probably been a given, though.

“Well, have fun then.”  Dean clapped Cas on the shoulder.

Addie made a face at her.  “So it’s high.  The freakout level is high.”

“Seven at least,” Dean agreed.  “Have a good time.”

“Call us,” Sam added.  “And take anything you don’t want her to find to school tomorrow, ’cause your room’s getting searched next.”

Addie scoffed.  “Like I keep anything in my room.”

Dean and Sam exchanged glances.  “I’m just gonna leave that alone,” Dean said.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed.  “I think that’s smart.”

“’Night guys,” Addie said, her smugness restored.  Dean figured it wasn’t their job to disillusion her.  Their job was like, the opposite of that.  Right?

“See you,” Sam said.  “Send me a picture tomorrow.”

“’Night, Addie.”  Dean watched Cas reach for her, saw Addie’s surprised look, and then they were gone.  From the middle of a crowded street in what was practically daylight, and no one looked at them twice.  She snorted.  So much for only flying at night.

“Does she do that a lot?” Sam asked under her breath.

“More lately,” Dean said.

“Huh.”  Sam looked more impressed than anything, but Dean hadn’t gotten over the revelation that there could be invisible angels around at any moment.  They didn’t say much during the drive back to campus.

Cas was at the Lighthouse when Dean arrived, so she texted Sam to let her know.  She got a message from Sam the next day telling her to check her e-mail because Addie had sent them a picture of her room.  The e-mail was titled “Amateur” and all it said was, “Good thing I had better teachers.”

Dean didn’t think Addie was too upset about the whole thing.

Their mom invited everyone home for the holiday weekend without a word about angels or room searches, and it occurred to Dean that she might not know they all knew.  That made it infinitely funnier, so she broke her own rule about group e-mails to send the idea to both Sam and Addie.  This prompted a chain of “Things Mom Never Found Out About” stories that lasted into the next week.

With one weekend to go before the family reunion, Dean asked Cas if she wanted to come.  Cas either didn’t think it was awkward or didn’t know it was supposed to be, because she said yes right away.  Dean joined her on her kid stakeout Friday night, then read over her admittedly hilarious evolution paper on Saturday.  Cas translated an entire book for her in return, and they avoided the crafting party on Sunday by finding Sam and harassing her all afternoon instead.

Sam thought that bringing Cas home for the October holiday was a great idea.  And that was after they’d spent hours hanging around her dorm room for no reason except to thwart Rachel’s attempts to socialize Cas.  So between the fact that Sam was still talking to Dean, and Rachel didn’t throw a frosty fit about Cas, it seemed like they were doing okay.

Dean figured that was all friends came down to in the end: the people you chose to help you deal with the family you were stuck with.