WHITEWASHED

WHITEWASHED

It was one fine morning. Dean woke up feeling okay, and so he walked up to the kitchen. He and Sam were in the bunker. Then he saw Sam, making a sandwich. “Morning, Sammy.” he said, opening the fridge with a wide grin. He took out the bottle of beer he had left. “Good morning, monster. Why are you even drinking beer so early in the morning, Dean?” Sam asked when he saw what Dean did.

“Well, you know, Mr. Healthy, I’m drinking what’s left in my refrigerator.” Dean said. “Nobody but us live here, Dean. You know that. You must’ve drunk it yesterday, too.” Sam said to Dean. “What do you mean? We weren’t on the bunker yesterday. It wasn’t me.” he said. “Well then, who else drank it, Dean?” Sam asked, laughing. Dean shook his head. “You got me there. But, then who cares? It’s a wonderful morning.” he said again, chuckling.

“Aren’t we going to search for a case today, Dean?” Sam asked him, afraid he was going to ruin Dean’s good mood. “Sure, sure, let’s find it.” Dean said, finishing the remaining beer in the bottle and threw it to the trash bin. “I’m going to be in my room, and if you find anything, tell me right away, okay? My hands are itching.” Dean said, winking to Sam. Sam chuckled a bit before nodding. “Yeah, whatever.” he answered his brother.

Dean walked to his room. He whistled to “Carry On Wayward Son” by Kansas. It had been one of his favorite songs ever since… He wasn’t sure, really. About five or six years ago, maybe? He didn’t know for sure. He couldn’t even remember who introduced the song to him, how he came to know this song and became fond of it, but he couldn’t care less. All he knew, that song calms him down at bad days.

A few hours after laying his head to get some shuteye, Sam called out to Dean. “Hey, Dean?” Sam said, coming up to him at his room. “Oh, you got anything?” he asked, grinning to Sam. “That’s the problem.” Sam said. “Nope, I got nothing.” he continued. Dean frowned. “Not even weird deaths, murders?” Dean said, lifting both of his eyebrows. “Death, yes, murder, no. Unfortunately, we got nothing to do.” Sam said, shaking his head.

Dean groaned. “But I am really bored. Nothing in particular is in the bunker, and there’s only the two of us after Kevin was gone. Ellen, Jo, Bobby, Rufus, they’re all gone. Where are we going to go?” Dean asked Sam. Sam chuckled. “I don’t know, Dean. And weren’t you the one who said that you need some rest? This is the perfect opportunity, right?” Sam asked his brother, pushing his head back to the pillow.

Dean pushed Sam’s hand away. “Don’t touch my face. It’s precious.” Dean said. Sam laughed, walking out of Dean’s room. “I’m going to be in my room. Tell me when you get bored. Maybe we can get some shots in the bar nearby.” Sam said. Dean nodded. “Right, thanks man.” Sam waved his hand, signing that he Dean didn’t have to mention it. Dean reached out for his phone. He scrolled to his phonebook, searching for someone to call.

“Lisa and Ben, no, let’s not call them. Garth, I don’t think so. Chuck, Crowley, Charlie, hmm… No one I can call. Cas? Who’s Cas?” Dean stared at his phone screen, frowning. “Who’s Cas? I don’t remember having a friend named Cas.” Dean said again. He tried dialing it, and the call went through. “Hello?” Dean asked. “Hello, Dean.” a deep voice from across the lane said, sounding sloppy and drunk.

“Ugh, I actually don’t know how I got your number here. Can you tell me who you are?” he asked, waiting patiently for the man to answer him. “No, you’re not supposed to have my number. Please delete it and please forget about this conversation. Let’s just pretend it never happened.” the man said again after some time. Dean frowned. He was about to ask why, but then the line got cut off.

Dean decided to brush the dust off his shoulder and ignore the weird and suspicious thoughts. “Whatever.” Dean said, deleting the number from his phonebook. “Probably some drunk I helped years ago. He sounded familiar, must’ve known him. But he didn’t want me to have his phone number, so be it.” he continued, mumbling to himself. But there’s this huge opened curiousness now and he felt like he needed to remember who this Cas guy is. So he went to Sam’s room.

Sam was laying on the bed, watching something on Netflix. “What are you watching, big guy?” he asked. “Orange is The New Black.” Sam said. Dean laughed. “I finally find out what you are. You’re a giant girl. Aren’t you, huh?” Dean said, still laughing. Sam smiled. “Shut up. What brings you here?” Sam asked. “Hmm… You know, I was kind of thinking maybe I should call someone to kill the time, but when I was searching my phonebook,” Dean paused.

Sam stared at him. “What?” he asked, curious now. “What, Dean?” he asked again when Dean didn’t answer him the first time. “I found someone called Cas, and I called him because I was trying to figure out who he was. But he said I wasn’t supposed to have his number. He sounded kind of drunk, and the guy told me to delete his phone number and so I did. Do you know anyone named Cas?” Dean spilled out.

Sam shook his head. “No, I don’t. But, if you can get his full name, I can get you an ID.” Sam said. Dean shook his head this time. “I already deleted his phone number. Either way, he didn’t sound like he wanted to talk to me. The guy sounded like he’s avoiding me.” Dean said again. “Just check him up on your phonebook. Maybe he’s in there somewhere.” Dean told Sam. Sam took out his phone and checked his phonebook out.

“No one named Cas, but there’s this Castiel. I didn’t remember having a friend named after an angel.” Sam said. “Yeah, it’s probably him. Give him a call.” Dean said. Sam picked up his phone and dialed the number, but the line didn’t go through. “Nothing. It’s an empty number. No owner, probably.” Sam said. “Yeah, probably not the same person. But, did you say he was named after an angel?” Dean asked.

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Castiel is a name of an angel of the Lord.” Sam said. “Well ain’t that friend of your religious.” Dean mocked. “Well, I can say so if I ever had a friend named Castiel.” Sam stated, laughing. “Okay, whatever.” Dean said. “We should really get some shots at the bar. I’m bored to death now.” Dean added. Sam nodded again. “Yeah, I’ll be ready in a minute.” Sam said, pushing his brother out of his room.

They then went to the bar. As usual, Dean drove the Impala and Sam sat at the passenger seat, new-age rock playing on the radio. “Isn’t it a good life, Sam? We saved the world a few times, huh? Maybe angels are watching over us.” Dean said. Sam smiled, nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.” Sam said. Dean looked into his rearview and saw a glimpse of a man in a tan trench coat. He stared at the man.

Dean’s smile fell off his face. He was then reminded – that he had forgotten something, something really important for him. He kept staring at the man, feeling some familiar warmth inside him every time he thought the man was looking back at him. Then, the man finally looked back at him, smiling. He turned his back on Dean, and walked the other way around of the Impala. Dean stared at him until he was nothing but a tiny dot in the crowd.

Dean smiled. He didn’t know why he smiled, but he knew for sure that the man in the trench coat was indulged in the reasons. And that he will meet the man again.