Dean lay back against the worn pillows of the night's motel of choice. His boots, since he never bothered to take them off, were propped up on the bundled up floral blanket that was a hideous shade of yellow. Sam sat at the desk, absorbed in an article that had obviously caught his attention.

Cas suddenly appeared at the foot of the bed by Dean's feet, thoroughly soaked. Dean started and fell off the bed onto a carpet that smelled like piss and sweat.

"Hello Dean." Cas said. His trench coat was dripping with water, and a puddle had already formed around him on the bed.

"What the hell Cas? Seriously, give me some warning. What if I was whacking it or something?"

Cas tilted his head, confused. "Whacking what?"

Dean opened his mouth, but Sam quickly cut in. "Nothing, Cas. Nothing at all."

"You just say that 'cuz you don't have anything to whack." Dean said sarcastically.

Sam bitchily raised his eyebrows at the computer screen and went back to his article.

"Get off the friggin' bed, you're soaking it." Dean said, climbing off the floor. Cas stood up, and Dean noticed something small clutched in the angels arms.

"What's that?" He said, pointing.

"Cas looked down, and smiled. He carefully unfolded the parts of his coat he had bundled up, and unveiled a soaking kitten. "I found a cat." He held it out to Dean.

"That's great Cas." He said, resisting the urge to take the kitten and cuddle it. Men don't do kittens. Especially not scrawny, wet ones brought to them by angels. What the hell is my life?

"Where'd you get him, Cas?"

Cas cradled the kitten to his chest. It was small, even for a baby. And had soaking grey fur. It's bright eyes were golden. "It was by the road, in the rain."

Cas put the cat down, and it padded over to Sam. It started rubbing its tiny head against Sam's ankles.

Sam sneezed. Dean looked over to see his brother grabbing cheap motel tissues and frantically blowing his nose. "Cas, I'm allergic to cats."

Dean grinned. "I don't know Sammy, I think he likes you." The cat had started purring. Sam's eyes watered and he sneezed loudly. "Dean, get that thing away from me." He said thickly.

Cas quietly scooped the cat back up. The cat mewled and pawed his tie. "Can I keep him?" He asked, looking at the cat like he was a 6 year old and the cat was Christmas morning. His blue eyes lit up more as the cat let him stroke his chin. "He's softer here."

Dean looked at Sam. His brother had been in the room with the Cat for hardly five minutes and he looked miserable. Every fiber of his being was telling him to tell Cas to take his cat and shove it up his feathery ass. But then he looked at Cas's face as he petted the cat. There was a certain childlike innocence to it, and he looked happier that Dean had ever seen him. His heart melted.

"Fine Cas, you can keep your cat." He relented.

"Really?" Cas asked.

"Yeah, really?" Sam asked thickly, although traces of bitch were still easily detected in his voice.

"Calm down Sam, he can keep it at Bobby's. Bobby likes cats, right?"

"I don't know." Sam mumbled through the tissues as he sneezed again.

Cas kissed the cat on it's fuzzy head. "Thank you, Dean." He said, and vanished.

"How the hell did he get you to let him keep that cat?" Sam asked, his voice noticeably clearer.

"Come on Sammy, didn't you see how much he loved the thing?" Dean said, settling back down on the mattress.

"Well, yeah. But you never let me keep that dog I found."

"That dog was a hellhound, Sam."

"Dean. It was a golden retriever."

"Yeah, well, I didn't like the way he was staring at me." Dean propped his feet back up into his comfortable position.

"You care about him way more than you want to admit." Sam said, under his breath.

You have no idea. Dean thought.