Author's Note: This is my first Destiel fic, so be kind. This has been a journey. For more than a year after beginning in this fandom I've been a hardcore believer in canon or canon-compliant fics only. Then I saw a Youtube video where somebody put all of the "Destiel moments" together, and I had this "holy crap" moment. Since then I've been a little bit more flexible, and finally I decided to write just a little bit of Destiel to compete with the hundreds of pages of non-Destiel fanfic I've written. Thanks to Pepper Pike & Midnight Oak, my beta's (I have beta's now!). Pretty sure this is your fault. Sort of.

This story takes place during Season 11, between Episode 6 "Our Little World" and Episode 9 "O Brother Where Art Thou?"It takes place sometime around the episode with the zanna, "Just My Imagination."

I do not own Supernatural. If I did, it would be my responsibility to decide whether or not Destiel should be canon, and I'd probably die of the anxiety of angering one half of the fandom either way.

Dean had been on what felt like the same stretch of road in Nebraska for two hours. It was dark, and it was late, and Dean was tired. Sam was asleep in the passenger seat, soft snores making their way to Dean's ears even over the chords of "Angel with a Shotgun."

Dean wasn't in the habit of listening to more contemporary music, but Sam had turned on the radio earlier, and Dean hadn't bothered to turn it off. He had to admit, he liked this song.

I'm an angel with a shotgun
Fighting til' the wars won
I don't care if heaven won't take me back
I'll throw away my faith, babe, just to keep you safe
Don't you know you're everything I have?
And I, wanna live, not just survive, tonight

The song reminded Dean of Castiel.

It had been nearly a month since he'd last seen Cas, and he privately admitted to himself that he missed the angel. He'd had no reason to call him back to the bunker, however, at least no valid one. He didn't consider "because you're my friend" to be a "valid" reason. Though they were friends – undeniably even best friends, though Dean considered himself above such labels – they weren't the sort of friends that called each other to "hang out."

He wondered sometimes, though, if what they had was something different from friendship, or possibly much more. Castiel had pulled him out of Hell. He had rebelled for him, and died for him, twice. In fact, sometimes, Dean wondered if something would have happened between the two of them in Purgatory if it hadn't been for the presence of Benny, and the steady stream of monsters they had fought.

Something had changed between the two of them in Purgatory, though – that much Dean was sure of. Sometimes he'd caught Castiel giving him long looks, and they were different than the long looks Castiel used to give him. Once upon a time, Castiel had given him looks that clearly meant "I don't understand this human." Now, the looks meant… something else, something darker and more indecipherable.

And sometimes, Dean caught himself looking back.

Dean wasn't gay. He wasn't even convinced that he was bisexual, although he'd entertained the idea. He had always noticed when men were attractive, but he couldn't remember ever being attracted to a man, at least not like he was to Cas.

Until after Purgatory, he hadn't sorted out any of these thoughts. Purgatory had been all about instincts, and if Castiel or Dean had an instinct to stare, or to sit or lay down together for comfort, it didn't matter, because there was no one to judge.

After Purgatory, Dean had immediately slipped back into the relationship with Castiel that he had had before Purgatory. This included rules about touching, and enforcing personal space. Castiel had shot him a hurt look on the first two or three occasions after Purgatory that he had berated the angel for his lack of personal space, but had said nothing.

Dean regretted that now. He had been scared, then, of himself and his feelings, and what it might mean. And, in the process, he had hurt Castiel's feelings.

During the year after Purgatory, however, Dean's feelings for Castiel had not gone away. He still anticipated Castiel's arrival. He still trusted the angel more than any other creature except possibly for Sam. He still had moments where he wanted to reach out and touch the angel on the shoulder or hug him the way they had in Purgatory.

When Castiel had lost his wings and sought out Dean for comfort, Dean had thought for a happy and terrifying moment that perhaps they would finally get to explore whatever was going on between them. But then Gadreel had made Dean kick Castiel out of the house, and the angel had been hurt, again.

And perhaps it was for the best, Dean thought, because he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to act on his feelings anyway. Nor was he sure that Castiel could even have those types of feelings for him. It was true that Castiel acted more human now than he used to, but there were still moments where Dean was reminded that the angel was far more powerful and far less human than the vessel of Jimmy Novak made him appear.

The only thing Dean knew for sure was that feelings in general were uncomfortable and annoying and best drowned in whiskey. It had taken him the better part of a year after Purgatory to admit to himself that he was attracted to Cas. The two of them certainly didn't have time to navigate this… this thing in between their busy schedule of saving the world.

"Hello, boys."

The Impala swerved first into the other lane and then nearly into a ditch, but Dean managed at the last second to curb his surprise and steer her back into the appropriate lane. Meanwhile Sam, who had been asleep in the passenger seat, gave an almighty snort and swung around, gun in hand.

"I am perfectly capable of driving to a meeting point myself," Castiel was snapping from the back seat of the Impala, waving Crowley's hand off of his shoulders. "I didn't need demon transport. That was completely unnecessary."

"Sorry I ruffled your feathers," Crowley snapped as Sam lowered his gun slightly. "But I did tell you the matter was rather urgent."

Dean pulled over to the side of the road, still recovering from the shock of Crowley and Castiel appearing in his back seat. He pulled his gun out, stabbing at the stereo with his elbow to turn off whatever song had come on after "Angel with a Shotgun."

"Crowley, you've got two seconds to tell me what this is about before I put even more holes in your meat suit," he said gruffly.

"Hello to you too, ex-Bestie," Crowley sneered, straightening his tie. "Hello, Moose."

Dean unlatched the safety, though he knew he would never shoot Crowley and risk damaging the Impala unless Crowley actually posed a threat. Unfortunately, he had a feeling Crowley was banking on this.

Still showing no sign of fear or even hurry, Crowley said, "Are you boys still interested in some firepower to use against Amara? Because I've got a lead on the Staff of Moses and the Rod of Aaron."

Castiel's eyes widened. "These are the property of angels and wield great power. You must take me to them."

"Ah-ah-ah," said Crowley, waggling his finger in Castiel's face. "Not so fast."

"What do you want them for?" asked Sam, speaking up for the first time from the passenger seat.

"My own personal protection," Crowley said.

"You mean since your attempt to be Amara's 'Daddy' went south?" asked Dean snidely.

"It was going swimmingly until you came along," said Crowley. "I notice she's still at large, despite being alone in a room with you."

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Crowley put up his hand. "The point is, we're all on the same side now. Now I'd like both the Staff and the Rod, obviously. But, I'm willing to settle for one. Seeing as we'll both likely be using the Staff and the Rod against Amara, it hardly matters."

"No," said Dean, still holding the gun on Crowley. "I'm not making anymore deals. Not after the Mark of Cain."

Sam looked like he was about to protest, however, and so did Castiel.

Crowley, taking note of this, said, "I'll drop back in in two minutes. That'll give you time to decide." And he disappeared.

Dean lowered his gun.

"Dean, we might want to think about this," said Sam. "I mean, it's not like we have a whole ton of other options against Amara."

Dean looked at him sharply. "You're not still thinking about…" Lately Sam had been having visions of the cage, with Lucifer inside. Sam had begun to voice the opinion that perhaps God was trying to tell him that Lucifer might be helpful with ridding the world of Amara. Dean knew both of them would choose any option that wasn't that option.

Sam nodded solemnly, and Dean sighed.

"The weapons could be helpful against Amara," Castiel said thoughtfully. "Seeing as she's God's sister, it would be extremely helpful to attack her with something as powerful as God himself. The Rod of Aaron and Staff of Moses were some of the most powerful weapons in our collection until they were lost." He said the word "lost" as though the thought disgusted him. "Balthazar said he had them, but we never found them with his weapon supply. He must've either pawned or sold them."

Dean had the annoying urge to reach out to the angel like he would've done in Purgatory, but he resolutely held his arm still.

"So, what'll it be, boys?" said Crowley, appearing in the car again suddenly and causing Castiel to move backward in alarm.

~ Angel with a Shotgun ~ Angel with a Shotgun ~

Once Dean had parked the Impala at a $29-a-Night motel, Dean felt the pull behind his navel that he recognized as a demon's form of teleportation.

The first thing Dean noticed upon opening his eyes was that they were in a vehicle – a nice one. It was easily the most upscale vehicle he'd ever been in, and Dean quickly identified it as a limosine.

Outside of the limo was a parking lot filled with cars that made Dean's mouth drop into a silent "O." He saw a Rolls Royce, three Porsches, a Corvette, a Lamborghini, and two Jaguars. He immediately decided that he wouldn't trade any of them for his Baby, though for once he was almost tempted. Some of the cars were less sporty and more utility, but no less expensive. There were also a few other limos scattered around the parking lot, and more that were pulling up and letting out passengers.

The second thing Dean noticed was that it was no longer the last few dark hours of the morning; instead, it appeared to be the last few light hours of the day.

Dean looked further beyond the parking lot. At the other end of the lot stood a sprawling building. It was clearly an old building, though it appeared in perfect repair. It was the only building for as far as the eye could see, and was surrounded on all other sides by lush, manicured landscaping.

The door to the large building was covered by three men in uniform, but it wasn't a uniform Dean recognized.

Dean squinted to see farther into the distance. The uniformed men were using some sort of scanner on two women entering the building hand in hand. One of the women was rather stocky and wearing a long, blue evening dress. The other was almost too thin and wearing a tux. Another couple, a man and a woman this time, got out of another limousine beyond Dean and headed to the large door of the building.

"You have got to be kidding me," said Dean finally. "A black tie event?"

"What's wrong with black tie?" asked Crowley, who was holding two black suits out to Dean. "You two dress up in suits all the time, pretending to be 'Agents Timberlake and Fatone,' or 'Agents Styles and Horan.'" Crowley used air quotes.

"I didn't think you liked boy bands, Dean?" Castiel said innocently, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't," Dean said, gritting his teeth and separating the suits from the hangers. He was starting to wonder if he had liked Castiel better before Metatron had uploaded the world's entire compendium of pop culture references into his head. "I have definitely never gone anywhere as 'Agent Timberlake.'"

"Where's my suit?" interrupted Castiel, eyeing the two suits in Dean's arms.

"And I have no problem wearing a suit," Dean added, checking the tags on the first suit. "But the people at these black-tie events always have long noses that they keep in the air and little dogs that fit in purses and yap a lot."

"Well, be careful of the little dogs," Crowley said, "but the noses in the air will hopefully help them to not notice that we're not who we say we are."

"This suit isn't long enough for Sam," said Dean, holding the second suit out to Crowley.

"Sometimes I wonder why I continue to work with you flannel-wearing blockheads," said Crowley, tossing the second suit to Castiel. "The second suit is for the angel."

"Then why am I here?" asked Sam.

"Dunno, Moose," said Crowley. "Mostly because if I'd left you back at the fleabag motel with the Impala, Dean would've thrown a fit that would've cost us valuable time. But there's nothing for it. Do you see that?"

Castiel and Dean both stopped taking off their jackets to look where Crowley was pointing. Dean followed Crowley's finger to the front door. There was a metal detector, which already made Dean wary because it meant he couldn't bring any of his weapons. Additionally, Dean realized that there were at least two machines run by the men in uniform that looked unfamiliar, despite the fact that Dean knew his way around most normal security.

"That machine identifies even the tiniest drop of demon blood," said Crowley, "and then you're out on your giant flannel rump. Which, of course, makes Moose here utterly worthless."

"And you," Dean said. "That's why you need us."

"Ten points to Captain Obvious," said Crowley with a slow clap.

"What about the back door?" asked Dean, taking off his shoes. "The windows?"

Crowley shook his head. "Warded from the outside against all magic," he said. "And locked with deadbolts, all of them. My source inside says they've got an armed security system as well. Hurry up, you two, we haven't got all day. Here, I'll speed things along."

Crowley snapped his fingers, and suddenly both Dean and Castiel were wearing black dress pants and dress shoes along with their flannel tops. Their previous pants and shoes sat folded on their laps.

"Don't. Ever. Undress me. Again," said Castiel, looking around for his black suit. A second later, Castiel took off his shirt. All three men averted their eyes, though Dean only pretended to do so. He admired his friend's chest and muscles as long as he dared before turning to his own suit jacket.

"How are they going to get out?" asked Sam.

"Through the front door, ya moron," said Crowley. "That's the beauty of my plan. It's completely above board, until tomorrow when they realize that the credit card I just gave you is a fraud."

"Naturally," said Castiel gruffly, now fully dressed in a suit and attempting to arrange his bowtie.

"So what are we looking for?" asked Dean, pulling on his own suit. "What's the game-plan?"

"It's an auction," said Crowley. "The host is T.L. Laurent, France's greatest collector of the mythological. Fortunately my source has said he's a little behind the times in terms of angels, and that it's only demons he knows how to ward off."

"Don't!" Castiel warned the demon, who had held up his hands to magically assist Castiel with his bow-tie. "I'll do it myself."

Crowley shrugged. "Each to his own." He held out a wallet to Dean, along with a printed invitation. "Like I said, it's all above board, at least until tomorrow."

Dean rolled his eyes. "What specifically are we looking for?" he asked.

"Ask Feathers," said Crowley, handing a second wallet to Castiel, who had finally given up on fastening his bow-tie by hand and had magicked it into place.

"I'll know it," said Castiel.

Dean was busy looking at invitation, and the words on the page suddenly made him feel as though his heart were pumping twice as fast. "This invitation is for Sir Walter Cannon Jr. and his husband, James Carmichael III."

"Husband?!" Castiel said, looking alarmed.

"Well, I mean, it's not exactly a stretch," said Crowley.

Both Dean and Castiel began to protest. Dean said, "How dare you-…"

Castiel said "Just because-…"

Sam had started to snigger.

Crowley said, "Quiet! Look, you've wasted too much time. The guards are looking to close the doors. Hurry up!"

Castiel gave a reluctant but agreeable look to Dean and opened up the door.

"Why did you have to go and make us a couple?" Dean snapped at Crowley. "I mean, we'll be the only gay couple there… we'll stick out!"

"Contraire, Rodent," said Crowley. "It's a couple's party, and the host is gay. You won't be the only ones. Plus you certainly look the part. C'mon, Moose, you can hitch a ride back to the hotel with me, just this once." He waved his fingers at Dean. "Bye-bye!" and he disappeared.

Dean stepped out of the limo and looked at Castiel, who was giving him a forlorn look in return.

"C'mon, Cas," he grumbled, and stomped toward the door.