As always, thanks to AlexHamato!

"Great," Dean mutters under his breath. Why does he need to be the one who's stuck in the car with the crazy angel? That's why he was against bringing Cas along to the hunt in the first place. Most of the time Castiel annoys the fuck out of him. Though Dean is not entirely sure what the reason is. Maybe because his brain keeps insisting that this is not Cas. Cas never smiles. Not like this.

Thoughts are messy inside Dean's head. One part of his mind surveys the victim's house. It's half past midnight and the street is calm and quiet. It's warm. Baby's windows are halfway down and the night air is sweetened with spring's flavors.

Dean casts a sideways glance to the other man - angel - in the car.

Castiel sits on the passenger's seat, head leaned against the backrest and eyes closed. Reflected by the window, the light of the street lamp washes over his face and creates an illusion of a halo just above his mussed, dark hair. Dean can't tear his eyes of him. It's fucking annoying.

"Why is this so important to you?" the angel says out of nowhere, moving nothing else but his lips.

Dean waits for him to clarify. As always, it's in vain. "W-what?" the man asks after a long moment.

"My sanity," Castiel answers simply.

"It's not." Dean turns his head and tries to concentrate back at the house. "I never said it is," he adds stubbornly.

"But you think of it," the angel states with defeating certainty.

Dean grips tightly the steering wheel. "Stay - the fuck - out - of my head, Cas." He presses out the words as if he tries to hurt them. Or hurt something.

At this point Castiel usually mutters some kind of an apology. It's in his rare moments of clarification. It's always muffled, half-spoken sentence, as if he feels guilty for his current state. Dean waits for it, welcomes it when it happens. Because this means that the conversation is over.

Not this time, though. "It is not as easy as you think it is," Castiel explains wearily.

"It seems pretty easy to me, Cas. You simply don't poke around my brain," Dean snaps, maybe a bit too sharply than he intend to.

Next to him, Castiel startles. His eyes flutter open, wide and scared, like an animal, caught in the lights of a car. He's about to flee, Dean realizes. The thought make his words stick in his throat. The man reaches out and blindly finds the angel's hand. His fingers curl tightly around Castiel's wrist. As if this could possibly keep him there.

They stay like this for a while, staring at each other in the dark. Dean can feel the tension deep in his bones. The air is charged, humming with static. Down the street the lights blink once, then again.

The angel is the one to break the silence."I won't," he whispers. Dean can feel Cas' pulse rushing under his fingertips, matching his own frantic heartbeat.

"What?" The man licks his dried lips. "Read my mind?"

"No." Castiel shakes his head slightly, eyes narrowed, following Dean's tongue on his path over the other man's lips. "Run away."

"Good," Dean breathes out. He turns to look back at the house, but doesn't let go of Castiel's hand. "That's good."