Dean moved his hands from Castiel’s shoulders to frame his face. Castiel smiled and closed his eyes, then opened them again. He said softly, “It’s time to go back.”

“I miss you,” Dean said. “When you’re not around, I miss you.”

“I am never far.”

“I thought you didn’t perch on my shoulder.” Dean smiled at him a little.

“I don’t. I sit on the bed and watch you sleep.” He smiled a little back.

“Maybe you should wake me up,” Dean said. “And see what happens.”

Castiel sighed and gently removed Dean’s hands from his face. He held onto them, though, and looked down at them as he spoke. “There is work to be done, and even if there were not . . .”

“No picket fences,” Dean said. “No happy endings. Not for guys like us. You’ll go back to heaven and I’ll . . . go on hunting until it gets me.”

Castiel looked up at him, his expression sorrowful, and let go of Dean’s hand to touch his fingers to Dean’s forehead. “No,” Dean said, “not yet,” but he was already back in the hotel room and it was morning.

“Dammit,” Dean said, slamming his hand against the mattress, and then he picked up the briefcase and held it in his lap, his arms wrapped around it and his chin resting on top.

“Dean?” Sam said from the other bed. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Dean said. “What do you think the combination to this thing is?”

“Why?” Sam said cautiously.

“Because I want to see it, okay, Sam? I want to see it, I want to hold it my hand, I just want –” He slammed his fist against the briefcase. “I want to see it.”

Sam’s eyebrows furrowed but he said, “Unless you’ve spun the combination it should still be set. Try the catches.”

Dean pressed on the locks but shook his head as they stayed firmly shut. “Dammit,” he said and put the briefcase aside to shove himself out of bed. “We’re being followed.”

“What?”

“Followed. Don’t know who by. That’s twice I’ve been warned, though. Yesterday by Maya and again last night.”

“Another vision,” Sam said softly.

“Yeah.” He hobbled to the duffel bag to get clean clothes for the day.

“From Castiel?” Dean didn’t answer, and Sam said, even more softly, “What’s going on with you two?”

“What do you mean?” Dean muttered as he put on a t-shirt.

“I mean, he was holding your hand yesterday at the hospital, and he visits you in your sleep, and — I just don’t know, Dean.” He said more slowly, “I feel like I’m losing you a little more every day.”

“Castiel’s my friend and I trust him. That’s all.” He leaned on the bed so he could put on his jeans.

Sam muttered something and went into the bathroom before Dean could ask him to repeat it. Dean still frowned at him, though, and wondered if he needed to spell it out for Sam that Castiel was just . . . something impossible.

Once he was dressed Dean tried the briefcase again, going through the most obvious combinations first. It was not unlocked by 666 or 040 or even 000. He thought for a moment and tried 108, then 616.

The locks popped open.

“Murphy, you’re a sick old bastard,” Dean muttered and opened the briefcase. The cup was still glowing softly, and it was warm in his hand when he took it out. He held the cup to his chest, comforted by the smooth shape and the warmth it sent through his body.

Sam came out of the bathroom and saw him, and paused, clearly confused by this.

“Look,” Dean said, and realized he didn’t have any excuse for it. “It just makes me feel better, okay?”

“Okay, man, okay,” Sam said, holding up his hands. “I’m not judging you.”

“Hold it,” Dean said, holding out the cup to Sam. “You’ll see.”

Sam took an involuntary step back, and for a moment they just stared at each other. “No,” Sam said in a voice that was trying to be light and failing. “No, it’s okay. Let’s just get on the road, okay? America’s Stonehenge opens at nine.”

“Okay,” Dean said and put the cup back in the briefcase, ignoring the goose bumps on his arms.

***

After breakfast, they drove back to America’s Stonehenge and parked in front of the barnlike visitors’ center. The day was overcast. There was still snow under the trees and only two other cars in the lot. A small herd of alpacas, penned near the visitors’ center, came up the fence to inquisitively sniff at them and Dean couldn’t resist petting a soft head or two.

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