Sorry for the wait, I just moved and we didn't have the internet for a while there.

Dean glanced around quickly. He didn't see anyone. From personal experience he knew this didn't necessarily mean no one was watching.

He tugged on Castiel's sleeve and stood up, causally walking to the side of the school and towards a small side door. He stopped and pulled Castiel close. "I want you to stand very still, alright? Try to let your trench cover me up as much as possible."

Castiel's head tilted slightly, but he stood still and let the wind blow his coat out. Dean grinned and pulled a small kit from his pocket, quickly going to work on the lock. It was rusty, and hadn't been used in a while, but under Dean's fingers it opened obediently. The small door swung open silently.

Dean stood back grinning. He tugged Castiel forward by the lapels of his coat and watched the visible road for movement. The last thing he needed was for a police detail to show up. "Alright, Cas. Moving fast attracts the most attention, so we're going to move through this door like we belong here, 'kay? Step with me." Dean took a few careful steps back, and closed the door firmly. "See? That wasn't hard."

They had entered an old gym. It had to be old, it looked terrible. From what he remembered of his time spent in these hell holes, gyms were big with bright polished floors. The schools mascot was usually painted somewhere, and bleachers from all angles were posed to catch the action.

This gym was small. The floor was wooden, but it had seen better days. There were folded up basketball hoops on every wall, and in one corner there was a stack of blue mats.

Dean nodded, and identified a door that lead out into a long hallway. "So we're looking for a restless spirit. Ever dealt with one?"

Castiel's eyes traced the lockers curiously. "No. I have battled with demons and fallen angels, but sprits were usually taken care of by a lesser body of angels."

Dean laughed. "Is that your way of telling me you're over qualified?"

Castiel stopped, glaring at Dean. "It was my job to die in the name of my father, not help his chosen find eternal bliss." He moved off down the hallway again, walking close enough to the wall to run his fingers over the ridges of doors and hinges; he looked at the dust in his hands intently.

Dean watched him go for a moment, and then moved to catch up. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to –"

"Do not worry yourself."

Dean sighed and looked away, dropping the subject. "So if my research is right, we're looking for a girl named Crystal. Some girls from her class held her under the water in the pool until she drowned."

They paused at an intersection of hallways and looked for movement in the dark hallways. Dean caught a sent coming down the corridor to the left. He touched Castiel's elbow. "Do you smell that?"

The angel paused, and nodded at Dean. The hunter smirked and walked off quickly. It was hard to mistake the smell of a pool.

The smell led them down to two sets of doors; both were padlocked, but that rarely stopped the hunter. He knelt and easily picked the lock. With a grin he unwound the thick chains binding the doors.

He stepped back, and with a massive sweep of his arm he ushered Castiel in first.

The room was very large and very dark. Dean pulled out a flashlight and took a quick stock of their surroundings, making sure there was nothing waiting for them out there in the gloom. Satisfied he started to walk forward, light flashing over everything he passed.

Castiel eyed the deep pit in the center of the room. Dean caught his eye. "What?"

Castiel's head fell to the side. "What is that?"

Dean turned to look. "Well Cas, that'd be the pool."

"I was under the impression those tended to have water in them."

Dean shrugged. "They usually empty it when the school is closed." He laughed. "It'd probably get really gross if they didn't." He started to walk again, his footsteps echoing distantly.

He found what he was looking for behind a small wooden tower. "Hey, Cas. Over here." He grinned. "Locker rooms."

The locker room had no windows, and it was pitch black inside. Dean's hand felt the wall beside him and thankfully found the light easily.

The room was large, with the first portion dominated by rows of tall metal boxes, and a short hallway leading back to the showers. The woman's locker room was practically identical to the men's; Dean was a little disappointed. He shrugged it off and quickly set to work searching the room for something, anything, that would belong to the ghost.

As he walked past a group of sinks set into the wall, he felt a chill run down his spine. He glanced up and saw the ghost in the mirror. Dean turned quickly, she was right behind him.

With a gesture he went flying back into the mirror, shattering the glass.

There was a snarl and Castiel was in front of him, his wings fully unfurled. He had the ghost's full attention now; she leapt at him, blasting him back into the wall. Castiel caught himself midway, neatly turning and leaping back at her. Her image jerked and she disappeared.

Dean hesitantly regained his footing, broken glass falling off his jacket. "Well. I think she likes you."

Castiel looked at him in confusion.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. "Nevermind. How'd she get the upper hand on you anyway, Mr. Angel-of-the-Lord?"

Castiel looked at him as though it were obvious. "I did not wish to destroy her spirit."

Dean nodded vaguely; that made sense.

He set off purposely through the room again, winding through the lockers, checking to see if any of them might contain the mystery item. No such luck.

As he finished with the last one she appeared again. Dean shot her in the head, her form vanishing instantly.

He glanced over his shoulder for Cas. "Find anything?"

The angel was looking at the walls curiously. Something caught his eye, and he strode forward. Dean hurried to catch up. "Cas?"

Castiel had stopped in the shower room. The room was large and bare with numerous head joints sticking out of the walls. Dean shook his head. "I'm lovin' the privacy. Do you know how many guys would love to be standing here?"

Castiel's brow furrowed. "In an empty room?"

Dean scoffed. "Well. It's not always empty."

Castiel moved forward and knelt before the far wall, his hand touching a small silver square. He looked at Dean. "It is here."

All of the showers turned on, spraying the hunter with scalding water and drenching the angel instantly.

With a shout Dean stumbled back. The room was instantly filled with a silvery mist, and then she appeared, crowding Castiel's space and forcing him back, cracking his head against a wall.

Dean shot her in the back and after a moments hesitation rushed through the hot water to the back of the room. He reached out a hand and felt Castiel's head; his hand came back bloody. "You alright, Cas?"

Castiel nodded, even as the blood proceeded to run down his jacket and down his leg, staining the floor with crimson swirls. Dean stared at the drain in horrified fascination. Castiel touched his arm, bringing him back. "I am fine, Dean."

Dean nodded jerkily, reminding himself the angel healed quickly, and knelt by the silver square. She appeared again, and grabbed him by the front of the shirt, hurling him backwards.

He slid in the water a few feet and quickly scrambled back up. Castiel had already regained the girl's attention, and was trying to fend her off as gently as possible as she beat on his chest and slashed at his face. Castiel seemed completely unfazed as his shirt began to turn a dark shade of red.

Dean quickly decided to put it out of his mind and hurriedly pulled at the silver square. It didn't budge. He looked closely and saw four tiny circular screws.


He fumbled for a knife and tried to use it to twist the small screws out. It didn't work. The surface was too slick and the knife kept slipping off.

Dean glanced over to see how Castiel was fairing. All he could see was a deep gash running from the angel's ear to just under his eye; as he watched it quickly mended itself, leaving nothing behind but a faint tint of red quickly being washed away by the cascading waters. The ghost slashed again, and the cut reappeared. Dean's stomach clenched. He'd had enough of this shit.

He drew his shotgun and hit the square as hard as he could. A huge dent appeared. Dean grinned and proceeded to take out all of his anger on the square until it was bent enough for him to pry the door off.

Inside a small white towel sat innocently; it had long since turned brown and crusty with blood and mold, and who knew what else.

Dean fished inside his pocket and brought out a small container of gasoline drenching the damn thing. He flicked out his lighter and struck it. Nothing; the small wheel spun uselessly in his hand.

Fuck. It was all this damned water, it wasn't letting him get a spark. With a snarl he turned and shouted. "Cas!"

Castiel caught his eye, and quickly grabbed the girl, hurling her violently into the wall. The tile cracked under the force, and her body disappeared in an explosion of dust. Castiel was instantly beside him. "Yes, Dean?"

"Can you light this?"

Castiel reached out a hand and touched the towel. The ghost appeared behind him and threw Dean back as the fabric ignited. Her body turned a dark black with red cracks as she was incinerated.

Dean lay back, panting on the floor. The water was cold now, and swirled softly around him on its way to the drain. With a groan he opened his eyes. Castiel offered him a hand and helped him to his feet. Dean grinned. "Well. That was fun. Let's get out of here."

Castiel nodded, drops of water running down his face and catching in his hair. It was beautiful. Dean couldn't help himself. He had to lean forward and kiss those tempting lips.

His tongue swept the angel's mouth, tasting his essence. Water slicked their lips and dropped from their noses.

With a breathy laugh Dean quickly moved to lick the drops of water off of Castiel's lips and cheek. A hand moved up and ran through the angel's hair.

He froze.

He pulled Castiel closer, tucking the smaller man's head under his chin so he could get a better look at the back of his head. His fingers carded quickly through his hair, freeing the matt of blood for the water to capture, and searching for the wound. He didn't find one.

He pulled back and caught Castiel's eyes. "Does it hurt?"

Castiel looked at him in confusion.

Dean suddenly felt bashful, and considered dropping the whole thing, but the complete adoration he saw reflected in those eyes pushed him to continue. "I know you heal quickly, but do those wounds hurt?"

Castiel blinked. "Why is it important?"

"Just answer me."


Guilt flooded Dean's soul. "So… so when we… stabbed you through the heart…?"

Castiel smiled sweetly. "You were merely defending your family."

Dean quickly grabbed Castiel by the back of the neck and drew him in, kissing his forehead and hugging him tightly. "All the same, I'm sorry."

Castiel pulled away, his eyes bright. Dean could practically see him radiating with joy and happiness. It was like a pure, snowy light.

Dean smiled awkwardly and cleared his throat. "Right. So, uh, let's go."

They made it back to their motel room without any incident. Dean was worried about the wet footprints they were leaving behind, but he figured they'd evaporate before anyone found them.

As soon as they were in the door Dean gratefully stripped out of his wet clothing and pulled on a dry pair of boxers. He glanced at the bathroom and considered jumping in the shower. Then Dean looked back at the door and saw Castiel standing just inside watching him, a small puddle forming under him. "You stay in those wet clothes and you're going to get one hell of a cold."

Castiel looked down at himself and then back at Dean. "They will dry."

Dean laughed and hurried into the bathroom, grabbed a towel, and made his way back out. "True, but its going to be uncomfortable for a while."

Dean tossed the towel across his shoulders, and then his hands were up, gripping Castiel's lapels and shoving the wet coat off and to the floor. The suit jacket soon followed, then the white button down. Dean hesitated for a moment before unbuttoning the angel's slacks and letting them slide to the floor as well. He hesitated again. His hand hovering uncertainly over Castiel's boxers.

He bit his lip and instead took the towel and tossed over the angel's head and began rubbing furiously. He paused dramatically and peaked under the towel. Castiel's eyes practically glowed in the gloom.

Dean quickly flipped the towel back down and continued rubbing, leaving no part of his head untouched until he heard a short laugh and Castiel started pushing at his arms. With a grin Dean let the towel drop down to Castiel's shoulders and used the ends to wipe gently at his face. Then Dean moved down his neck, and down his arms and chest. He pulled the angel closer and carefully ran the towel down his back until his hands encountered the elastic around his waist.

Dean slowly got to his knees unmindful of the puddle on the floor, and ran the towel down Castiel's legs. With a mischievous grin he pulled one leg up to get at the angel's foot.

He was expecting flailing or a scream, but Cas just watched him, a small smile playing on his lips.

Dean made sure to take his time, and spent as much time as possible drying his angel off, but soon he was done and had to stand once more.

Once again his hands brushed the wet fabric of Castiel's boxers.

He met the angel's eyes and knew he could totally get away with it. He smirked. "You still seem a little wet."

He tossed the towel across his shoulders and his hands filled themselves with fabric. He watched Castiel's eyes as he slowly removed the last article of clothing. The angel's expression never changed.

Dean swallowed as he appraised Castiel quickly, then he wrapped him up tightly in the towel. Castiel's head fell to the side as Dean took a step back. "I'm, uh. Going to go take a shower. There's some clothes in my duffle you could probably wear..." He quickly stepped over to his bag and pulled out a pair of torn jeans, a pair of black boxers, and his favorite Metallica shirt. He pushed the clothes into the angel's arms, turned and all but fled to the bathroom.

He pressed his back to the door and just breathed, imagining Castiel's body, his lean frame, wild hair sticking up in every direction, his complete and total trust… Dean gasped as his hand closed around his cock.

Oh yeah. He needed a little alone time.

He was well aware of the body in the room behind him, so he tried to keep it down, but occasionally a gasp would escape his lips as he imagined those blue eyes looking out at him from under the towel. His pace quickened, and he imagined licking drops of water off the angel's skin; he'd tasted like honey and like the wind. He opened his eyes, and his breath caught as he realized Castiel was very capable of watching him right now, and he felt the coil tighten within him as he came in his hand.

He panted as he came down.

His eyes caught his own in the mirror, drawing his gaze down to his hand. He stepped forward and washed it off in the sink, and then started the shower.

Castiel was sitting on his bed when he exited, looking scruffy and adorable in Dean's clothes. The hunter almost had to turn around and go back to the bathroom, but he squashed the urge and walked to his bag, grabbing his phone and calling Sam and Bobby, telling them the job was done.

When he'd finished he tossed the phone onto the bed. Castiel watched him quietly.

"There's another hunt in the next town over." Castiel nodded. "We'll head out in the morning, kay?"

"Of course, Dean."

Dean licked his lips and nodded. "Want dinner?"