Wayword Sons

Dean slept like a baby again and was thankful that he hadn't taken the girl's offer to spend the night. He knew he would have been up past midnight and would have gotten very little sleep. It might have been worth it, a little voice in the back of his mind whispered. But he brushed it aside and got out of bed.

He arrived at work with a few minutes to spare, and Bobby peered out at him from behind his lifted truck. He looked at his watch and back at Dean, scowling. "What's your problem?" Dean asked, grabbing the appointment log and looking to see what he had to do that day. Bobby's mustache twitched, but he said nothing. "What?" Dean asked again. Bobby just muttered, "Mhmm," and shuffled away. "You could just say thanks for being on time," Dean called after him.

A short while later, the phone rang, and Dean called out, "I'll get it!" He fully expected to hear Castiel's gruff voice on the other end, so he found himself disappointed to hear a woman's voice. It was the owner of the Ford. Dean told her that the car was ready, and hung up.

The phone rang several more times in the next few hours, and each time Dean jumped up to get it. Finally, around 2:00, he answered the phone to hear, "Hello, Dean."

"Hey, Cas. You get home alright last night?"

"Yes, thank you."

"I ordered your parts around 6:00 yesterday, so they might not have processed the order yet. But if they did process it yesterday, it should get in..." he consulted a calendar next to the phone, "tomorrow or Friday. Hey, you off on weekends?" He asked.

"No, I have class and services on Saturday and church services all day on Sunday."

"That blows," Dean said. "Alright, well call back tomorrow, I might have the parts in for you."

"Thank you, Dean," Castiel said. "You've been extremely helpful."

--

When Dean had passed the Ford off to a plump woman with curly hair, he turned back to his log book and realized he had nothing to do. He paced around aimlessly for a minute or two, but could find nothing to capture his attention. "Hey Bobby," he called out. 

"What?"

"You got anything you need me to do?"

Bobby appeared, wiping his hands on a grease rag. "No. You got a hot date?"

"Nah, I just finished up with the Thunderbird and it's been a pretty slow day. You mind if I take off a little early?"

"What's goin' on with you, kid?" Bobby asked. "You're cheerful, you've been getting here on time every morning, you're gettin' your work done early…"

"Once again," Dean chided, "you could just thank me."

Bobby shook his head. "Alright, get outta here. Idjit." He turned and shuffled off.

"See you tomorrow!" Dean called after him. "Bright and early!"

--

Instead of taking his usual turn down the road to the bar, Dean went straight home. The motel room that he'd made his own was nothing fancy- a one room, bed/living arrangement with a kitchenette and a tiny bathroom- but it was all Dean needed. He was hardly ever there, and he never invited anyone over. During the frequent nights out that he had with various local girls, he would never ask them to come to his place, and thankfully, it had never been an issue. The girls that didn't want to go back to their place would usually settle on the Impala.

Dean kicked off his boots at the door and turned on the TV to a random station just to get some background noise. He felt restless, so he started cleaning the room. He threw away the beer cans and burger joint wrappers, folded the pile of clothes that he'd dumped out of his laundry bag, washed the stack of dishes in the sink, and finally scrubbed the shower and toilet. When all that was done, he checked his watch, and it was still only 7:15. He found himself wishing he could call someone on the phone and just chat. He considered calling Sam, but didn't want to bother him. His mind wandered to Castiel as he stared blankly at the moving pictures on the television. He wondered if they would see each tomorrow.

I'm starving, Dean thought. He decided to drive down to Burger Haven and grab dinner. On the way, a silver Prius passed him and he craned his neck to see if it was Castiel, but there were a bunch of weird bumper stickers on the back of it. Plus, why would Cas be out in Lawrence on a Thursday night, Dean reasoned with himself.

"Two cheeseburgers and a coke, please," Dean ordered at the drive through window. He finished one of the burgers on the way home, and the other while sitting in front of the TV. After cleaning up the empty wrappers and bag, he sat on the edge of the bed again and stared at the wall. Maybe I will call Sam, he thought. He picked up the phone and dialed.

"Hey, Dean," Sam answered.

"Sammy. How you doin', man?"

"I'm great, Dean. How are you? You sound… I don't know, you sound different these days."

"I'm good, Sammy. Just had a slow day at work today and I was feeling a little restless. Thought I'd call and catch up with you. You got a minute?"

"You know, I don't, actually," Sam said, sounding genuinely apologetic. "Jess and I were going to meet some friends for dinner at 8:00. I'm sorry. Can I call you tomorrow?"

"Sure, Sammy. You have my number?"

"Yeah."

"Alright, well. Take care of yourself, Sammy. You have a good night."

"I will, Dean. I'll talk to you later."

He hung up the phone and sat again, wishing for something to do or someone to call. Dean had never had many friends, and the ones he had kept had moved away, gone to college, or gotten married already. Things moved fast in a small town like Lawrence. He was steeling himself from going down to the bar. It had been such a productive day, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to start his work day off with a headache. He decided to just get ready for bed. The prospect of seeing Castiel tomorrow buoyed his spirits.