The Love That Dare Not Speak It's Name

Dean Winchester. To be found at Murray's bar, Lawrence, Kansas, 10:43 PM. Born: January 24, 1979. Scheduled death: 8 July, 2008.

Castiel arrived at the given time, his eyes set on the target. He knew the man, the image was given to him to fulfill his order accurately. But faced with the real thing...

As a reaper it was his job to take the humans' souls. Whatever happened after he took them, wasn't of his interest nor duty.

Though, this was the first time he felt his own breath being taken away.

The human was... admittedly beautiful. His soul was a mass ripple of light, echoing the dark places he'd seen. It seemed to stretch through him, searching for something, in and around itself, before coiling together in a bundle. The soul itself was deep humanity, love, protective, gentle, soft. The movements told a different story. His light shivered in distress, in a constant move, trying to grasp something other, before inevitably it swallowed up itself. Loneliness.

"Um, hey." He was staring. He must have been staring. A wave of fear rolled through the soul, a quiet buzz of anger waiting for a fight following suit. He distressed him.

Blinking his eyes he brought the physical form of the soul in focus.

The quiet caution was still present in those darkened wintergreen eyes.

Castiel gave a short nod in response, and made the first move he could think of. He took a seat on a bar stool next to the man, eyes carefully averted and straight in front of him.

"Hey, what can I get 'cha?" Unfortunately this roused the waitresses attention.

Without a knowledge on beverage, he blinked owlish eyes around him, spotting Dean's glass next to him. With a pointed finger there, he expected it to be enough of a response. The female bodied human nodded with a soft smile, as if she understood something deeper, and turned her back on him.

"Hard day at work?" Dean spoke again, and really, he wasn't ready for this. His essence was laced in the rough voice.

Castiel turned to give him a look, and another nod. The answer was truthful enough. He was having a hard time at work just now.

To his surprise Dean gave a soft chuckle and a lingering smile. Castiel felt it at the very depths of immortal being.

"Wish I could have a couple of those." He was a hunter. Anti-possession tattoo over his chest, bottle of holy water in his pocket, amulet around his neck. Knowing eyes.

"I mean, not that I don't work-" He works, just not what he wants to." It's just that, once you've worked your whole life for something, and then, finishing it, it's just... It's pointless." To this, Castiel merely cocked his head sideways. The soul threw a wave of regret and deep sadness, but gave no further indication of actual events.

"I'm sorry, I've been here since... Since 8 probably, drinking my mind away. What's your name again?" He hadn't said his name yet. He couldn't give it to him. Speaking to Dean would give him away. And he just wasn't ready for it. Not yet.

In his indecisiveness, he turned forwards again, smacking his lips in thought. He had a job to do. He could do it in an instant. Let Dean hear his true voice, and be done with it. He could-

"Sorry, if you're, um, are you mute? I mean, if you're sensitive about it... I would be, but, um... Fuck, that was insensitive from me. Sorry." The reaper watched as Dean scratched his forehead a blush just peaking through. Even his soul seemed to turmoil. It was... amusing. Which is something reapers don't feel. Shouldn't.

He nodded again.

The man seemed to deflate slightly, happy that he hadn't angered him. Surprising.

"That's cool. I mean, it's not cool cool, just... Ok, you know, I guess." Dean's shoulders hunched upwards and desperation seemed to settle onto his features. Startled, Castiel peaked the soul again, and saw it... it was almost gnawing at itself. The thoughts urging the fury were... Were highly distressing. This man wasn't ready for death. He had too much to resolve. Whatever path this bright soul awaited, it wasn't going to be a good one. Not yet. He needed time. Time that, perhaps, Castiel could spare.

With haste he took a napkin from the nearest holder and with a snap of fingers signaled the waitress for a pen. Something must have shown her this was urgent, so he had it in his hand. A few quick flicks later he gave Dean the best translation of his name he could muster.

"Um, Castiel? That's your name?" Even before he could nod, Dean tripped over himself again.

"I mean, it's a cool name! Cool cool, ya know?" Castiel smiled before he could think it through. That never happened to him. He smiled rarely, sometimes when a last thought was particularly funny, or when people were genuinely welcoming to his mission. But, to be on this plane, with a still thriving soul, smiling... Unconventional, surely.

"I'm Dean. Winchester." His eyes and tone indicated an importance to his last name. Unfortunately, the reaper wasn't informed further than the name and dates of the man.

His musings were cut short when he noted the arm hanging between them. Dean's open palm. Castiel had a brief and only practical knowledge on human customs and traditions. He knew it was custom to order beverage at a bar, or those places that looked like bars. He knew to stop appearing right in front of targets. That just made the business much more difficult, and his policy was to take the souls calmly and let them have peace in their last moments. When it was up to him. He knew enough to not distress the souls. But, he wasn't sure of the gesture right there. He'd seen pairs of humans holding each other's hands.

Following that train of thought he took Dean's hand, held it.

But this only made the soul flicker nervously, Dean's eyes widening to show the motion behind. He'd possibly done wrong. Then again, warm bursts shined through the soul too. Though, this happened in union with the agitation. And so, Castiel decided to cur the turmoil short.

It was right to remove his hand, as Dean sighed in relief, before brushing the hand on his thigh. With his eyes turned down he coughed briefly before running a hand over his mouth.

"So, Castiel, did you know a guy called Cristo owns this bar?" The hunter waited, as Castiel shook his head 'no'. The hostility passed and again, a deep blush took over.

"Yeah, um, cool guy." He snorted humorlessly. "Fuck, I keep saying 'cool'. Do they even use that word anymore?" Castiel only shrugged. Which was the right thing to do, as Dean's eyes glinted, followed by a huffed laugh.

"I'm sorry I don't know how to sign..." But again, he turned morose. His emotional range was far too complicated to follow.

And so, Castiel did the only thing he could think of. He took his hand again.

His soul shivered again. Startled at first, a jolting drag of light. And then just waves.

Dean laughed again.

"You're kinda weird, Cas." A nickname. Familarity.

"But a cool weird."

I've never read a reaper!fic. So I decided to write one out. I'm gonna try and keep it fluffy. It's a mix of canon, without the angel!Cas bit. It's probably gonna be sad at places, ( I mean, it's spn) but I'll keep it happyish.

Thanks for reading, and please, review if you'd care to, it's great motivation.