AN/ Disclaimer: I obviously don't own Supernatural or its characters.

Trigger Warning of Suicidal Thought.

Dean was eating cereal when his phone started buzzing. Digging it out of his pocket with annoyance, he checked the caller I.D. Seeing "Cas", he quickly looked around to make sure no one else was listening before answering.

"Yeah, what is it?"

"I have a case. There have been suicides."

"Sorry to break it to ya', but that sounds like the un-super kind of natural," Dean replied, quickly finishing his bowl of milk, picking up his mess and heading to the kitchen. Balancing the box of cereal, milk, and bowl, he held his phone to his ear with shoulder. If Cas did have a case, he was going to have to leave without Sammie seeing him bolt. No way could he explain why they hadn't taken him in if Sam saw how bad he was doing; his excuse that Castiel didn't want to bring his problems to them wasn't going to hold out much longer as it was.

"I do not believe it is typical to have six within a week however."

"Uh, no. That's a flag right there. How about relation between the vics?"

He could hear the other was running some kind of machinery and wondered if Cas was working right now. "From the little I've been able to figure out from asking customers, they seem to have no relation other than being very sad recently. Though that is kind of a symptom of depression, the most common cause of suicide I'm told."

"Well, I'll head up today to check it out. Sounds like it might be our area after all."

"Wonderful. I await your arrival. I work until two."

"I'll try not to keep you waiting." Hanging up without waiting for a response, Dean tossed the bowl in the pile of dirty dishes haphazardly. Sam was still gone on a long-hairbrained Lance Armstrong run or whatever, so Dean ditched the bunker with a note: Personal Business, be back later- DW" on the main table.

Starting his four hour journey to Rexford, Idaho, Dean turned up the Metallica and cruised.

A little over three hours into the trip Dean's phone began buzzing again. Sighing and turning down Fuel, Dean answered," What is it, Cas? I'm almost there."

Subdued concern rose in Dean when he got no answer. "Cas, what is it?" A shaky breath came across the receiver. "C'mon, man, spit it out."

"Dean, whatever caused those others to commit suicide… I believe it is affecting me now."

Chest feeling tight, and knuckles turning white on the wheel and phone, Dean ground out," I'm like twenty minutes from town limits. You've got to make it 'til then. Can you do that?" Radio silence. Castiel was human now, suicide was simple. He couldn't help but remember his conversation with the still angelic Cas.

"I can't go back."

" 'Cause if you do, the angels will kill you."

"Because if I see what Heaven's become - what I- what I made of it… I'm afraid I might kill" myself," The angel declared with flashing blue eyes.

Pedal hitting the floor board, Dean urged, " Goddammit, Cas, talk to me."

"Being human is so hard."

His four-wheeled baby was going as fast as she went, but he feared he wouldn't get there in time. Guilt and apprehension roiled in his stomach. This was his fault. He should have fought Ezekiel. Castiel wouldn't be suffering some supernatural suicidal freakshow alone. "Please, I'll be right there, I promise. You just have to hold out a little longer. Can you do it for me?"

"I don't know. I'm sorry." The hitch in his voice sounded like he was going hang up.

"Cas! Stay with me," Dean blurted, trying to come up with reason enough to keep him on the line. "We've all been there, hopeless and confused. It's kind of human condition, but you're stronger than this. I believe in you. Just whatever you do, don't hang up. Don't give up."

"Well… I don't know… I just, I don't want to feel this pain, and I'm cold."

"Cold? Like a ghost is present?"

"No, I can't remember ever feeling like this. The room isn't cold. I feel cold inside. I've been cold since being human, soaked in rain with only a sweatshirt for warmth, having to sleep in abandoned busses away from the fire. But, this is different. My chest is cold on the inside. It hurts. It makes no sense, but my bones seem to ache from it. Even my heart."

Possibly symptoms of the supernatural issue at hand? "Hey, you said you talked to people about the suicides, right?" Dean hoped if he kept that angel off his own despair and on their case that he could at least stall Cas long enough to get there.

"Yes."

"Now, no relation except they were all depressed before committing suicide. Obviously what affected you isn't something you can see, so we rule out quite a bit. Is there maybe a witch in town with a vendetta? Look for hex bags, or weird coins, anything else that stands out as old and odd. Tell me what you see."

Castiel sighed, but then played along. "I'm at work, no one else is here. I'll look through the cigarettes first."

"Good. That sounds great." Dean said, cradling the phone against his shoulder to make a tight turn. "Keep the info coming, Cas."

"They're just the normal cancer inducing sticks I hand out on a daily basis. Nothing is in the menthols or chewing tobacco section. Flavored, original, I don't see anything out of the ordinary. This is pointless."

"Just keep looking, okay?"

"I don't think I can."

"Sure you can, I believe in you."

He was just pulling into the south side of town, only minutes from the gas station. "Hey, what are you doing?" He asked as distinct clicking could be picked up over the receiver. "Cas, answer me."

"I'm sorry, Dean. I just can't…"

Tearing into the Gas'n'Sip and coming to a screeching stop in front of the entrance, Dean left his baby running as he hurriedly ran in. Castiel's gaze snapped in his direction in surprise, the gun pressed against the under of his jaw lowering slightly. In trained response, Dean was able to clear the distance and jump the counter without even thinking about it. Effortlessly twisting the gun out of Cas' hands, he ejected the magazine and racked the slide, the need to quickly disarm and save Cas driving his motions.

"Where the hell did you even get this?"

"It's the gun kept under the register for if a robber attacks. I don't believe we have it exactly legally, but has proved useful."

Frustratedly placing the gun back on the shelf it apparently belonged, he turned towards Cas and sighed. "Let's get you out of here."

"I still have work for another hour and a half," Castiel said with a spaced out expression, as if he couldn't quite figure out what had happened.

"Well sorry, Steve, but we don't know what kind of thing we're dealing with here. There could a timer ticking," Dean said, flicking the other's name tag for good measure. He wasn't letting his best friend die for an alias' job.

"I can't afford to lose this job."

Heart rate still trying to lower to normal, Dean grimaced as he looked Cas in the eyes. He knew Cas was bad off financially, even worse than he and his brother ever had been from their line of payless work. They hadn't had a roof over their heads for very long time, but at least they had the money for cheap motels and had the impala to spend nights on the go in.

"Well I'm staying. It's my turn to watch over y-" The door opened along with jingling.

The woman approached the counter, and with a strained smile, Cas asked," Hi, how are you doing today?" His lips quivered as he tried to hold the smile.

The customer absently fixed her hair as she looked between the two of them. Dean held up his hands and excused himself through the counter door, saying," Off duty worker. Just going over the new register program."

"I'll just take some menths and a coke," she said, grabbing a bottle from the nearby cooler.

Dean watched as Cas rang up the order, muted alarm ringing through his expression. Anxiously waiting for the chick to leave already, he hissed," You didn't think that was a good first clue you were affected?" Holding up Castiel's hands to get a better look at the fingertips that were whitish-yellow to the the knuckles and blistering.

Disconcertedly looking at the itchy, painful fingers, he gazed back to the other and said," I'm sorry, Dean." His eyes were watery, and he choked back guilty tears. Dean seemed mad. It was his fault. Everything was his fault. "I'm new to this. I just thought I wasn't taking good enough care of my body."

Shit. Now Cas didn't just look despondent, he looked absolutely miserable. Dealing with it the only way he knew how, Dean brought the case back into focus. "You said you felt cold, right? And you have frostbite when the low for the day can't be worse than 50. You thinking this might be part of the affliction?"

"Possibly," Cas acknowledged as he finished closing the register.

Pursing his lips, Dean said," Well as soon as you're done being Steve, we'll check out the morgue and see if you're the only one with hands visited by Jack."

"Who is Jack, and when did I meet him?"

Rolling his eyes and mumbling," I can't be the only grown man to watch Rise of the Guardians," He said full voice," Forget it, doesn't matter."

After parking his baby in a less conspicuous spot, an hour went by with Dean either leaning against the counter, pretending to check out the doughnuts, or looking for hex bags, all while keeping a vigilant eye on Cas. Only once did he have to step in to protect the angel from himself. When there weren't any customers, Cas became transfixed on some tacky bandanas. When he pulled one around his neck, Dean quickly intervened and took it away. It was hard to choke oneself with a bandana and get the job done, but with hoodoo or some other cause, the task became sickeningly simple.

Castiel stared at the bandana in Dean's hand for a moment before raising his gaze to Dean's eyes and murmuring," I'm going to have to ask you to buy something. We don't allow loitering here."

With an incredulous stare, Dean tried to say something but quit and stalked off to buy a friggin doughnut.

The next half hour was uneventful, thankfully. Another man in a blue vest came in to take over and together they sorted out the register and other businessy stuff. When Dean was sure they couldn't possibly have any more to sort out, he brusquely said," Alright Steve, let's go."

At the other employee's concern, Castiel quickly mollified," It's okay, he's an old friend."

As they got into the impala, Cas informed," That's Daryl. I believe he desires me, but then again I'm not very good at telling these kind of things if my manager is anything to go by."

"And you swing that way?" Dean asked, trying to keep any judgement out of his voice. He wasn't a douchebag, he just kind of lacked a normal, well adjusted life or knowing anyone gay before Charlie.

With a confused tilt of his head, Cas mulled over what a swingset had to do with anything before announcing," Oh, you mean would I have sex with him."

Embarrassedly affirming the conclusion, Dean pulled out of the gas station and towards the morgue.

"Well, I don't see why not if he ever acted on those possibly imagined feelings. Angels have no sense of sex or gender. The thought that a relationship would constitute as gay never occurred to me."

"Right, well, that should make you popular. There's a lot of asshats who don't think like that. You find a nice guy or girl and you seize the opportunity. You deserve to be happy with whoever makes you feel good." He wasn't quite sure he would be having this conversation if Cas wasn't currently suicidal, but he meant every word of it.

Clearing his throat of the touchy feely crap, he said," Now, back to business, Agent Sorenson. You work for the FBI, and we are going to need to get you some gloves."

When they arrived at the morgue, Dean had Cas wear Sam's suit jacket, no tie, and stifled laughter. "Wow, you look like Garth does in a suit wearing that."

Not really knowing Garth, but assuming he did not wish to emulate the man in a suit, Castiel sighed and said," This will have to do unless you wish to switch."

"No. Unspoken rule, no one wears my suits," Dean said, smoothing out his well fitted, if sort of cheap, suit. "Now follow my lead, and this time, no smelling the dead people."

"I wouldn't bother, without my grace, there is little I could tell from my sense of smell," the angel replied downcast.

"Uh, sorry I brought it up then."

Opening the hatch in the trunk, Dean grabbed a gun for himself before looking at Cas with worry. The other was staring at his arsenal like a starving man at food. "Yeah, no sharps, guns, rope, anything you can turn into a suicide weapon, okay?" Quickly closing the trunk, he pulled Cas along with him to the check out the vics.

Entering the building, he looked around to identify who was in charge. As luck would have it, that man was on his way to talk to them. "Hello, Agent Carlton and Sorenson, FBI, to check out the recent deaths in the area," He confidently said to the older man who came to greet him.

"We weren't expecting the FBI for suicide cases," The coroner said, with small confusion.

"Doctor, all of these cases had similar symptoms, didn't they? We believe there is a link between the victims." The term victim sent a look of unsettlement through the doctor, Doctor Calder if going by his nametag, and he ushered them to follow him.

"These are all the suicides in the last two weeks that we still have. The files on the others are on their way," Calder said, bringing them to holding room.

"Thank you doctor, but you specified suicides? Were there other deaths recently?" Dean asked.

"Just two. A woman on her way home from the park was hit by a car, but her body has already been cremated as per request of her family. One other girl, just fourteen, died of hypothermia. I could pull their files too."

"Please, that would be great," Dean said with a warm smile. When the doctor left, Dean elbowed Cas and said," Would you at least act alive? You haven't picked your eyes up from the floor since entering."

"Sorry, I'm just focusing very hard on not grabbing the numerous tools in here capable of impaling me."

With dull horror, Dean forced tears back and said," Keep up the good work. I'm sorry, man." At least they had ruled out hoodoo. There was definitely no hex bags on his person, but he still was experiencing whatever the hell he had been this whole time.

Opening the first box and sliding the body out, he lifted the cloth enough to see the hands. No signs of ectoplasm, but there were other things that caught his eye. "Definite frostbite here. I'm talking the whole nine yards, shriveled, black fingers and blistered nose." Going on the next vic, he found more signs of frost bite. In fact, all of them showed at least a little case of frostnip. "How do doctors get their degrees? All the cases of suicide in two weeks display signs of frostbite and they don't make any link between the deaths?"

Castiel was closest to the door, so when a CNA came to drop off the files, she handed them to him. Looking through the top one, the automobile accident, he said," Looks like all of the deaths are related. Hypothermia relates to frostbite pretty well, and it looks like witnesses say the woman running home was screaming about how cold it was before jumping in front of the car."

Gesturing for Cas to hand over the file, Dean scanned it and said," Hers is the first death. Maybe it all starts with her. We're going to have to look up her family and see if there aren't any skeletons in her closet. Why don't we check these out and grab a motel to do some research?"

Shrugging indifferently, Castiel hugged the files he was holding close and stared absently. Following his gaze, Dean saw a knife designed for autopsy lying out and pursed his lips. Grabbing Cas by the arm, he dragged the angel out of the room.

Back in the impala, Dean decided to make a stop for food. If Cas' semi-vocal stomach was anything to go by, he needed the grub too.

"I thought you said we were going to a motel," Cas objected as they pulled into the parking lot of diner.

"Well, perks of being human. Your growling stomach gave away how hungry you are."

With a serious glare, Cas said," I can't eat. I haven't been able to for just over a day. If I try I will become ill."

"Again with the obvious clues you failed to mention or notice," Dean said, jerking the impala back into reverse and pulling out. He'd get food later. He wasn't going to open the whole can of worms of cutlery if Cas wasn't even going to eat.

Phone ringing, Dean pulled it out and looked at the caller I.D. before ignoring the call.

"Was that Sam?" Cas asked.

"Yeah. He's not coming."

Nodding sadly, Cas said," Right, I didn't imagine so."

Hearing something wrong, he pulled over to the curb and said," Sammie's recuperating, you said it yourself even you couldn't heal that."

"Oh, that's why," Castiel said forlornly, wringing his hands anxiously. With an attempted small laugh that hurt to listen to, he continued," Maybe it's just the state I'm in, but I was beginning to think…" Tears were gathering in his eyes, and it was obvious he was trying not to cry.

"What," Dean prompted. Incredulously staring at Cas, he swallowed back tears. "That we don't care about you? Is that what you were beginning to think?" A small nod. "Of course we do! You're family! I'm sorry we haven't been there for you. I haven't been there for you. If Sam knew what was happening, he would Lance Armstrong his way here if had to so he could help, but if he does, he'll be in serious danger.

"Now this is secret. Like, if you find out from anybody, you are surprised and could have never seen it coming. I should have told you earlier, but the reason we kicked you out is Ezekiel. He was worried you living with us would endanger him, and he gave me an ultimatum. Either you leave, or he would leave Sammie and that would kill him."

Nodding like this was a common occurrence, Castiel said," Ezekiel is kind and willing to help, but very self protective. I would have made the same call."

Placing a hand on Cas' shoulder, Dean said," I'm sorry it had to turn out like this. I really am."

"I understand. Let's just get this case over with. I've thought of seven ways to kill myself without leaving this seat."

Without another word, Dean drove to the nearest motel.

"What do you mean the only rooms you have open have kitchenettes?" Dean asked, cursing at his bad luck. The damn things never worked well and added a lot to the cost of the room.

"Take it or leave it, honey," The receptionist said without a hint of sympathy.

"Yeah, fine." Handing over the money and grabbing the key, Dean huffed and gestured for Cas to follow.

Throwing his things onto the closest bed, he grabbed out his laptop and headed right to the local records on crime and death.

"What do you wish for me to do?" Cas asked, still holding all the files sans car accident lady.

"Read those files, see if you can find any links between the vics."

"Well, at least half of them have been my customers at the gas station," He replied without even looking at the files.

"They have?"

"It's not a large town. There are only a few options for gas."

Brow furrowing as he considered this, he asked," So you had contact with them?"

"Of course. This may also be of interest, the second death was Jacob Kluth, a paramedic."

"Who might have had contact with the first death," Dean finished. "The stages of this whatever ending in death, spreading between people who all fit a similar bill… This sounds kind of like ghost sickness, but the buruburu works with fear. I hate to do this, but I gotta' call Garth."

Grabbing out his phone, he began to punch in the name before grunting in discomfort and inspecting his fingers. "Dammit. I've got it now," he sighed as he saw the very tips of his fingers were reddening into grey splotches.

Sighing with irritation, he punched dial and listened to the dialtone. "I swear if you don't ans- Hey! Garth, yeah, it's me Dean. Bet you thought you wouldn't be hearing from me." With a dry laugh, he answered," No, I don't need you to come down. Yes, I can imagine the hug just fine. Down to business, though. Are you familiar with ghost sickness? Yeah, I'll wait."

Dean grabbed a beer out of his small cooler and popped off the top, following with a quick chug. Holding the phone away from his mouth he gritted out," I can't believe I got ghost sickness twice, this is super. Friggin fantastic."

When Garth had collected his papers, Dean said," Last time I encountered a buruburu, it only infected people who used fear, and the sickness was increased fear until an eventual heart attack. Whatever hit this town is affecting only the uh, well I guess depressed people, and showing sign of frostbite and hypothermia before offing themselves."

"Well, you're in luck," Garth said," I know exactly what you're dealing with. It's an offshoot of the buruburu, when only the feelings of dead remain. There's no revenge, it's just feeding off like emotions of the dead, and the infected live through some of what the burburu went through. In the case you're working on I guess that would be something cold."

"Thanks for the info, but how do we kill it? Same as a ghost? We don't have to scare it to death, do we?"

"Salt and burn will do the job, can't scare it to death because it's just the emotions."

"Right, well, thanks. Guess we'll find the bones then. 'Til next time, Garth. No, don't say you Garth'd anything. Just don't." Dean quickly hung up. "Next step, find just who is so eternally afraid." Receiving no response, Dean looked around until he found Cas was in the kitchenette. They better not stock knives in this damn motel.

"Why is the oven on?" Dean asked as he came into the tiny room, looking expectantly for an answer.

Cas was staring out of the window dazedly, but turned slowly upon hearing Dean's question. "It is a viable means of suicide," He answered calmly, only realizing afterwards the problem of his statement. Bowing his head, he quietly apologized.

Twisting the knob to 'off', Dean sighed and said," Don't worry about it. Let's just find out who died tragically in the cold so we can finish this case already."

Nothing showed up for crimes or deaths that seemed particularly haunting worthy. There was an old geezer that had a heart attack in January of 2006, and a pretty bad mugging in february the year before but the victim was still alive. Maybe it wasn't so recent, so Dean dug deeper. "I can't find anything. It seems like a pretty normal town you nested in."

Castiel sat on the bed quietly, looking over the files.

"Earth to Cas," Dean called as he still got no response.

"More like angels to Earth," Castiel quipped under his breath before suggesting," Is this the point in which you start interrogating the victim's families?"

"Yes," Dean affirmed, but quickly tagged on," but not the way you interrogate. Let me do the talking this time around."

Driving to the Hayes' household, Dean came to a stop outside of their cliché white picket fence house and sighed. "Ready for this, cowboy?" The two of them looked like they were mourning their own loss as they walked up the path to the front door. Dean noticed yard and roof work was quit halfway through in the front lawn, which was kind of abnormal in a house like this.

A young boy answered the door and Dean flashed a smile and his badge, elbowing Cas to do the same, and said," Hey there, agents Carlton and Sorenson of the FBI. Mind getting your father for us to speak to?" With wide eyes and an open mouth, the kid nodded and bolted. "Heh, kid's afraid of us. Just imagine if he knew what was out there."

A man in his late forties soon came and welcomed them in, offering coffee. Graciously accepting, Dean and Cas entered the home and were seated in the living room.

"Sorry, it's not much. My wife- excuse me- my wife would have snacks lying out around this time of day. My oldest is getting back from her job soon," Mr Hayes explained, wiping his eyes. "How can I help you gentleman?"

"Well, we actually came to talk about Amanda, if you would indulge us. We're so sorry for your loss," Dean smoothly laid out.

"Why would the FBI investigate a car accident?"

"We came to investigate the serial suicides, but it's standard procedure to investigate all recent deaths. Loss of someone loved in the community can greatly change the dynamics of a town."

"Right," Mr Hayes said, nodding. "Well, it was a normal day, my wife was just doing her daily jog to the park and back. I don't know if her iPod was too loud, but she didn't hear the car horn and jogged right into a speeding car. It wasn't a suicide if that's what you're wondering. She's had history of depression, but she loved her family and would do anything for the kids."

"Of course," Dean said," We weren't implying that. We just wanted to know more. Uh, what about this park? Did she usually jog there?"

"Everyday, since it's been there. She used to enjoy jogging through the woods, but they recently chopped them down to build a park." Dean sent Cas a knowing look, to which Cas stared perplexedly back. Rolling his eyes subduedly, he asked," Did she have a history of getting cold easily? Bad circulation or something?"

"No, not really. I mean, I can't really think of anything like that," Mr Hayes responded awkwardly, confused at the odd question.

"Thank you for your time, we should be good for now," Dean said chugging the last of his coffee and standing up. Cas awkwardly followed, sluggish in his movements. Urging Cas to move faster through the door, he added," Again, we're sorry for your loss."

Bee-lining for his impala, he noticed Cas had not kept up and turned back. Seeing Castiel making a noose with a rope abandoned in the front yard of the Hayes' household, he darted back and stage whispered," Cas!" Taking the rope away and loosening the knot, he threw it to the ground while gritting out," Stop that, Goddammit!" He was frustrated and exhausted, suffering the early stages of the sickness, he just didn't have it in him to react to this calmly anymore.

"I highly doubt God is going to send a piece of rope to Hell, Dean."

"That's not what I m-" Whipping his glare towards Cas, it melted into gentle laughter as he saw Castiel's small smile. This wasn't him trying to commit suicide, and he was trying to make light of the situation the best he knew how. With an amused smile, Dean said," C'mon, let's find out more on this park."

Cas stumbled on his way to the car, Dean barely catching him before he fell over. "Dude, you okay?" Castiel's lips were pale, almost bluish, the rest of him wan with fatigue. "The girl who died of hypothermia… If you fail to off yourself, the sickness does it for you." Helping Castiel to the car, he opened the passenger door and assisted the angel in. Reaching to the back seat, he grabbed his warm, leather coat and wrapped it around Cas. "Don't worry, we'll get through this together. I still have another day before going cuckoo for cocoa puffs, right?"

Receiving a blank stare, Dean cursed and shut the door. Getting in the driver's seat and borrowing a neighbor's unlocked WI-FI, Dean searched local history again, this time searching the park. It was finished two months ago, much to the resentment of a local LGBT community. Clicking the facebook page of the group, showers of messages regarding Allison Burke filled the wall.

Reading more about this Allison chick, he read the sad story of her coming out to her parents as gay in '58. They had cast her out from her home, not even giving her time to pack or grab a warm coat. The whole town had forced her out and only her shoes were ever found after the snow melted. That would explain the frostbite and hypothermia.

Finding a number for the support leader, Dean quickly called. Trying not to sound rushed, he sighed in relief when the man answered.

"Hello, this is Gregory Harris, outreach leader. How can I help you today?"

"Hey, this is uh, Freddie, and I recently came out as bi. My parents are gone from my life, and my only family left is my brother."

"I'm so sorry to hear that, we have a meeting tonight at the Melody Cafe downtown. Judgement free zone."

"I'm really not ready for a group thing, but I was wondering if you could show me where that memorial for Allison Burke was. Her story kind of changed my life and I just wanted to pay my respects."

"I'd only be able to quickly show you, I have work in half an hour, but I don't live far away from the park. We're trying to get a new memorial up so her story is never forgotten."

"That would be great, thank you. I'll be at the park in a minute." Hanging up the phone, Dean quickly pulled out from the curb and drove to the park as quickly as possible.

Chilling- or maybe that was a bad choice of words- Hanging out in the parking lot waiting for Greg, Dean sighed and hoped this ended simply. He could really go for no complications at this point.

"Dean," Cas mumbled.

"Yeah?" His heart skipping a beat from the surprise that Cas actually spoke.

"I don't think I want to die. I've had plenty of easy outs, Ephraim, the robber that attacked on my night a couple weeks back…" With weary eyes, he looked to Dean and continued," We share a profound bond, Dean, and when I'm with you I don't want to die."

Bringing the angel in for an embrace, Dean said," You're not going to die." Running his fingers through Cas' hair he promised," I'm not going to let you die."

The moment was ruined as Dean looked up and saw a man in his young twenties standing outside of his car, trying earnestly not to gush at how cute the supposed couple was. Recoiling, Dean quickly opened the door and practically fell out of the car in his attempt to escape the emotionally compromising scene.

"Hi, I'm Greg," the man said apologetically, walking around the car to shake hands with Dean. He obviously felt bad for interrupting the moment that most definitely never ever happened under any circumstances. Sam would never hear of this.

All Dean could think as there hands touched was please don't be depressed. They didn't need another possible suicide before they could figure out this thing.

"Freddie. So, memorial?"

"Right over here. There was a big tree, we're already a ways into where the woods were, and in it was carved 'I'm Gay' with a big cross underneath. She was kicked out of her home because her parents said the lord and angels hated us."

"Well, I can assure you that is not the case."

Greg laughed dryly as he came to a stop. "No need to convince me. I just wish her parents hadn't needed convincing. They say her body was never found, only her shoes, but I think that's bull. They never even looked. She probably died right by that tree. I mean, there was a burrow there, a little warm in the dead of winter." With a grimace, Greg finished," She just didn't deserve her fate."

"Ain't that the truth," Dean agreed. "People. I tell you they're crazy."

"Well, I have to go to work. I hope to see you around at Melody Cafe. It was nice meeting you," Greg said, waving and quickly departing, jumping on his bike abandoned at the bike rack and pedaling to work.

Dean looked down at where the tree used to be, sighing at his bad luck it had to be under concrete. Marking the spot with an X using a nearby rock, Dean ran back to the impala. "Cas?" He called as he approached. Relief flowed through him as dim blue eyes groggily turned to him. He was still breathing.

Pulling his impala up to the marked spot, Dean was thankful darkness was taking over the sky. That would make this at least a little easier despite being practically in the neighborhood. "I'd feel better if you sat on the hood so I could see you, man," He said as he got out to dig up God knew what.

Watching Castiel confusedly trying to take off his shoes, Dean hand waved it and muttered," Nevermind." Opening the trunk, He grabbed out a chisel and hammer, first making sure to put on safety glasses and gloves. Nothing was worse than concrete slivers in the eye (besides metal), they didn't fester out like wood did.

Breaking the concrete away, luckily less than three inches, Dean quickly moved on to digging. He didn't really know what for, but he had to find something. It only took two feet of digging before his shovel sailed right through the ground. Getting down to his knees, he ran his hand through the dirt and nodded impassively. Died in the burrow, and never dug out. How sickening.

Salting and drenching it in lighter fluid, Dean lit the body on fire. Dean's fingers tingled as the frostbite faded away. Castiel exited the car and wearily stood, his face clearly gaining color again but far from healthy.

"That was close," He solemnly stated.

"Too close. Like normal," Dean replied, grabbing his tools and tossing them back in the trunk. Hesitating before slamming the trunk shut, Dean grabbed one of his stakes and the smallest knife he had. Closing the trunk and sitting in the driver's seat leaned over the side of the vehicle, Dean began whittling. "So you feeling better?"

"I still am weak, drained rather, from the experience, but my thoughts are no longer clouded."

Pausing what he was doing, Dean looked behind him at the other and said," I want to spend a few nights with you to make sure you're okay."

"Both of us wouldn't fit in the supply closet."

Angry that he couldn't change circumstances as he pleased and had to let Cas live like this, Dean resumed carving. "I'll pay for a few more nights at the motel. Do you good to get a few night's rest in a bed."

"I don't need your charity, Dean. I already depended on charities enough. I have a decent job now."

"It's not my charity. It's my duty as family. We look out for eachother. I can't be there for you until Sam gets better, but the least I can do is rent a room so you can sleep soundly for once." Not sure if Castiel was accepting this, he looked over and saw the angel's emotionless face. Tears prickling the corners of his eyes gave away how he felt.

"No need to feel ashamed, Cas. I'm proud of how well you're doing. Completely on your own, on completely new territory. You've spent practically no time being human and you already have built a life. You know how hard that is? Because you make it look easy."

Castiel didn't have a response to that, but he did have a question. "What are you doing?"

"Carving a memorial. Feel kind of bad wrecking up the park right after having learned about Allison's story. Poor girl shunned from her community to die in the cold because she digs chicks, and I kind of made a mess of the only spot that ever marked her existence after that."

Looking down to the finished product, he handed it to Cas. "See, I'm practically Van Gogh."

With a crinkled brow, Cas stated," He is known for painting. I doubt that extends to whittling of wood."

Taking back the stake with a roll of the eyes, he got to his feet and drove the stake into the hole in the concrete away from the rolling smoke of the fire. "Allison Burke Gay and Proud" With a little cross and his best attempt at angel wings. He was proud of it anyways.

"Alright, time to leave the park before someone comes looking."

That night, Castiel had great trouble getting to sleep. That was as every night though, no matter how exhausted he was. "Dean," He called out quietly.

"What is it, Cas," came back the reply of a man who had just been finally sinking into sleep.

"What sheep am I supposed to count?"

"What?"

"Sheep. I've been told by reliable sources that I should count them if I can't get to sleep."

Rolling over to his side away from Cas, he irritably responded," You're supposed to imagine them in your head, like jumping over a fence or something. I don't know. It's one in the morning."

"That makes more sense than going on a quest to find them."

"Yes. It does," Dean grated.

"I've observed in television that characters having trouble getting to sleep find comfort in each other's presence. May I join you?"

Rolling onto his other side to give Cas a are you serious look, replied," No."

"Right, sorry for bothering you. I just keep slipping in to the vision that I'm killing myself slowly with a-"

"Get in the damn bed, Cas," Dean said with a sigh, patting the spot next to him that he was accustomed to reserving for hot women.

"Really?" Sitting up in his own bed before padding quietly to Dean's. "Thank you. I understand that this could be awkward-"

"This never happened. Understand me? This whole trip never happened," Dean said as he wrapped an arm around Cas and buried his face in the other's hair.

Sinking into the warmth contentedly after such cold had consumed his spirit, he hummed an affirmative. He didn't care whether it 'happened' in the future. Right now it was perfect. He felt wanted as opposed to ostracized from all he knew.

Dean had to admit that while this never happened, it didn't feel all too wrong. Actually it didn't feel wrong at all. Both men slipped into sleep easily, miraculously not plagued by nightmares for a change.

AN/ I named this after Metallica's song for the last scene. This was written as if making an episode, with that pacing and canonical setting, and hope I succeeded.