Aquamarine

"Ms. Bradbury." Castiel walks in, addressing the red-haired woman sitting at her desk, scribbling away notes for him to use later. Although the times were developing and the town was dry, the need for a lawyer would never cease.

Charlie, or Ms.Bradbury, looks up, giving Castiel a warm smile before standing up. Her red hair is twisted into a neat bun as a signature blush crosses her face. She smooths out her wide, puffy-looking dress before she allows her lips to part.

"Castiel, must you refrain from simply calling me Charlie?" She tilts her head to the side before Castiel lifts a hand and gently places a peck. She rolls her eyes before sitting back down and raising an eyebrow, expecting an answer. He smiles, letting out a faux sigh of irritation.

"Charlie, I must remain a gentleman if I am will myself against the externally praised temptations of alcohol. To fight an enemy, you must practice strict discipline." He gives a wink before Charlie laughs. 

"The Lord certainly spared me by making women my aim of pleasure. I would've fallen for that charm many eons ago if not." She sits back down, dusting off her shoulder and looking through her glasses, eyes quickly returning to the task she was first working on.

Castiel was an avid, passionate lawyer who fought for the prohibition cause. It was a passion that developed from his distaste for alcohol and the sorts of wretchedness it self-invited. His father, Lucifer, is someone he believes was appropriately named after suffering decades of abuse at his hands, all because of the ridiculous fate of just having to try alcohol. It subverted his father's mind, because Castiel had to slowly watch him become evil and demonic, losing any light and conscience of his soul. It was a the worst knowing it was also his father, under the influence, who killed his mother.

Alcohol was a liquid enemy and one he was determined to drain from the hands and thirsty, desperate mouths of those around him. So, he took on the cases, fighting in court and although it took time, he certainly left an impression as the townsfolk managed to spread word about their Castiel Novak, someone they saw as a true angel and not just a namesake. If he stepped foot outside, the people were eager to give him a smile and a compliment, unmistakably complimented by a true story of their healing.

"Oh dear boy," an old woman walks up, holding her husband folded arm for support. "You saved my son and his dear little family. The Lord has blessed you with a name from his own fruit. A true angel you are." It was the one thing that always stuck with Castiel. His name became a beacon of representation. An angel.

So, Castiel Novak was a lawyer. And an angel, he supposes. An angelic lawyer, he further supposes.

"G-Get off of me Alastair." Dean chokes a bit before pushing the man, gruff with painfully scratching hairs back. The man smiles with a wicked glint before letting up, stuffing his manhood back inside his pants.

"Dean, my, you are a filthy man. These current times," he speaks before ending the word with a sigh, "do not allow for the demand of someone so promiscuous. Yet, here you are. Taking my... spindle for a ride." Alastair cackles before haphazardly shoving his shirt back into his suit pants. Dean is still frozen on the bed, naked and shivering, questioning why he damned himself into debt when Alastair was a man he could crush within seconds. He looks up, fear in his eyes before covering himself with the sheets. Alastair walks around the bed, trailing an unmoving Dean like prey before grabbing his chin and whispering his ears with a strangely grating voice.

"Dean, I only stopped because I deserved it. You-" Alastair pulls at his face and Dean winces, eyelashes fluttering. "You deserve what I give, gentleman." And with that, Alastair simply opens the crooked door to the dusty and buzzing hallway before tipping his hat. Stricken with fear, disgust, and regret, Dean flutters his eyelids before letting tears stream down his face, questioning how his life got to this point. 

Of course, knows how things got to this point. He knows why he's in this place and it's all because of his dad. His dad drank himself to an emotional death, abusing his mom and little brother, Samuel. As he grew up, Dean lost his pride in carrying the Winchester name, but once push came to shove, he remembered it's three against one. His mother, brother, and himself were all Winchesters, and capable enough to go give the name it's due glory. Of course, his mother is gone because of an accident. John is still alive but Dean refuses to think of that to be so. Every time he wonders how his father might be doing, he can smell the alcohol the man always carried on him. 

The worse part is that John sold Dean for sex. This wasn't his first rodeo with Alastair, oh no. It started when he was fresh out of puberty at 13, sitting in the living room listening to his father say he can help you out as long as you pay me and poor Dean was eager to make himself useful, prove his father's insults wrong. And it did work, but it came at cost for Dean. He still bore the taste and scars of Alastair's hands and now, nine years later, he is in yet the same position.

Alastair owned most of the liquor shops and bars in the greater region and if anything, was an impossible enemy to defeat. Any lawyers that tried to fight against him, any protesters, were simply found and shot. His desire for unfairness was dashingly, embarrassingly obvious at times, as evidenced by his own volition to simply shoot people in broad daylight and walk away. He had his henchmen do his work for him, clicking their heels away with their stallions, angrily eyeing the townspeople. Dean, compared to the regular folk, was in a much worse position. Once he turned 18, he basically became a slave for Alastair, yielding very little power on his own. The man still paid John hefty money which Dean supposed he used to drink his liver to failure, but Dean got some money too. As long as he could eat and sleep, the main seem all to worth it.

Castiel is frustrated, bunching his hair up in frustration. This Alastair guy has been the thorn in his side because up until now, his fights and cases have all been with the meek and unstable liquor shop owners who, if Castiel had encountered with a fashionable gun, would put up a fight for about 5 minutes before closing shop and running away. However, Castiel didn't want to create enemies through becoming a criminal of his own sorts. Hell, if he wanted to make some enemies, at least he'd do it rightfully. Legally.

Flipping through the newspapers and pages sprawled across his table, he realizes his fight needs to go out further. He needs to find himself the will to travel a few towns over to Hays County, where the devil himself strode with unchecked and exuberant power. He heard of Alastair far too many times for his liking and he knew the more he won his legal battles, the closer he'd be getting. Eventually it would be a face-off between the angel and Alastair, so Castiel figured it's better to walk right in and start his fight.

"Are you still going, Castiel?" Charlie fearfully looks into the room, afraid of the consequences that he may incur in trying to face Alastair himself. Castiel looks up, blinking his eyes before attempting to ease her worries with a delicate smile.

"Charlie, I need to go. I would've had to go at some point and I feel confident enough I can defeat this man." Castiel bends his head down, missing Charlie's smile at his finally casual address using her name. "If I must, I might even let go of my ethics that have guided me thus far if it means I can defeat Alastair. The people need to know he is drinking them to their death." He looks up and wonders if he's incorrect in assuming there is a flash of pride in Charlie's face, quickly refocusing as she walks over and around his desk.

"Mr. Novak, if there is anything I can do, I will. I will always be here for my dear friend and companion. Shall I help you organize your clothes and such?" He stares at her face, freckles and red hair accompanying her eager expression. Soon enough, a smile appears on his face. 

"No Charlie. In fact I've already packed. If there is anything you can do, you can find yourself a wonderful woman in the time I'm gone and keep yourself happy." Castiel smile before opening a drawer to his right and pulling out a thick, wide envelope. Smoothing out the flap to keep it secure, he hands it to Charlie who's eyes widen upon feeling the outside of it. She shakes her head, saying a no no no but Castiel silences her.

"$500. For everything you've done so far. I will be back. You're a secondary member on my bank account so if you need more, take what you must. Understood?" The lawyer stares at Charlie, wiping away a few of her tears before hugging her, bringing her into rest a few kisses to her forehead. Charlie nods, gulping down her attempt to fight the money he gives. 

"You'll always be an angel Castiel." Charlie returns a kiss to Castiel's cheek before quickly walking away. "I'll be on my way home now. I'll see you tomorrow at 6 when you leave Castiel!" Castiel is turned around, taking out a few needed supplies before he bends to the side, watching the dress rush out the door. He smiles, knowing Charlie would care more than less that he hadn't responded. Now, it was time was him to re-focus and prepare himself for the, perhaps, greatest fight for prohibition yet.

If Alastair really wanted to make things easy, Castiel was only 3-4 days away. Take a few henchmen and horses, supplies enough to survive, and they could kill him off far too easily. However, democracy was working its best and he knew killing Castiel was simply foolish. He was willing to take the hit for a few of his businesses because he knew (thought) he had the money to bounce back quite easily. Castiel knew that Alastair knew all of this, or else he would've been dead. It's a breath of fresh air to be able to live, but it didn't matter to Castiel much. Whatever he could do, he would do. And that's as simple as that.

Instead of letting death come to his doorstep, then, Castiel took the fight with him to Hays County instead. It was a peaceful few days, getting to stop by in small towns and meet familiar faces while others were new. His cause was well-known of, so it was no surprise to him that many people came to say a quick hello.

Hays County, though, it seemed different. The air felt tight and the sky was duller than usual. The townspeople simply stared at Castiel like he was an outsider and at first, the lawyer thought something was wrong with him. He kept a close eye and then realized, everyone was looking each other the same way too. It seemed as thought the air was simply not one of a trusting kind. There was a disservice being done to the people of this town, so much so that they couldn't trust those walking beside them. Castiel figured it wasn't too much to assume that crimes walked far too easily amongst the regular people and that he too, had to keep his guard up.

The other striking thing about Hays County is that alcohol reeks. Although the air is open as ever, the liquor pervaded the atmosphere and it took everything for Castiel to stop himself from vomiting. Slow strides through the town showed a shop for cigars, then alcohol, then this and then that. This place clearly ran heavily on the emphasis of fashionable drugs, something he wasn't too surprised to see. It was Alastair's town after all. 

But right now, his focus was to find his place of stay, check-in, and recuperate. The trip here drained him, enough that he almost would accept a drink but...

Now why would he do that?

Castiel ignores the scent of the town's atmosphere before coming up to a building, wood dark and seemingly breaking apart before pushing the doors which unfortunately fall down instead of opening. To his further surprise, everyone inside refuses to turn a head. Right, so this is a normal occurrence then. Not knowing what to do, Castiel walks atop the doors and steps onto the actual floor before clearing his throat and quickly setting the door-turned-wooden-planks back into their place. A woman turns around then, dark red hair similar to Charlie's but much older, sporting a mischievous look on her face.

"Hello darling." Her eyes are sharp, eyebrows thin but reasonably suiting her features. He takes note of her long, slender fingers before his eyes snap up at her giving a cough. "I said hello darling." She leans over the counter and Castiel stutters, but eventually responds.

"H-Hello. Sorry, it was not my intention to break your door at all." Castiel rubs a hand on the back of his neck before quickly adding onto his sentence. "I-I have a room here." He steps forward and the woman, seemingly satisfied with his admittance, stands back before licking her fingers and turning a few pages on her desk.

"Name, handsome?" She doesn't look up, but her use of pet names makes Castiel smile. The tension in his shoulders ease as he shakes his head before letting out a sigh. Let's see how far his fame has spread.

"Castiel. Castiel Novak." He says simply and of course, her fingers freeze. She looks up, a smile curving up on her face before she slams her book closed, making Castiel jump a bit. The woman stands up, keeping her eyes trained on Castiel before grabbing a key and using one finger to motion him to follow.

"So you're the handsome angel this town hates talking about." Her back is now turned to Castiel as she walks down the creaking hallways. Confusion makes Castiel lag a bit, but finally he responds.

"I'm not an angel. Just a lawyer. And I wouldn't be all that surprised, I suppose." He doesn't know what else to say. For all he knows, this woman could be Alastair's right hand and he'd be quoting death a lot faster than he expects. She stops walking and turns around before reaching her hand out. 

"Rowena." She states her name matter-of-factly but he catches her darting her eyes around before stepping closer. "I'm a town favorite and one of Alastair's too, but I'm only as a good of friend to him as he is to himself." Castiel gives a tiny smirk, an innocent one, but enough to acknowledge what he's saying. Perhaps, he can trust her. She smiles once again before turning around and likewise, they walk up the steps, Castiel catching his shoe slipping into small holes.

"This is your room!" Rowena opens the door and thankfully, it looks worlds better than the entire town. The bed is neatly made and it smells divine. Before Castiel can even ask the question, Rowena speaks up. "I know what you're thinking, and you're correct! I had this room specially done for you as a token of appreciation. But of course, it does come with an extra price." She winks, before standing in the door way and allowing Castiel to take in the landscape. He turns around at her comment, furrowing his eyebrows.

"How much do you mean by extra, Ms.-" "Rowena. I despise the prefixes and please, it's a meager $20 per day." She smirks and suddenly, all his original comfort with her dissipates. 

"Rowena, I don't recall asking for the anything extra, much less paying for it." He tries his hardest not to grit his words out, but it's a bit tough and it only seems to egg her on.

"I would think you're a bit nicer. I can always get you a room that smells like alcohol. Not so sure you would like it." Her smile is devious and Castiel nearly throws a fit before she breaks into laughter, doubling over herself. Castiel feels himself run through all five stages of grief before Rowena brings her self back up, delicately resting a hand over her right breast.

"Oh, poor boy. I wouldn't do that to you. God, I do love watching your face all confused and helpless!" She walks over and gives a fleeting touch of her finger to his nose before resting the key on a table and giving a wink. "I'll give a discount if you remind me the night before you leave. Until then, make yourself at home angel." With a play of her fingers, she closes the door and Castiel has to stay in his spot, staring into the space before dropping his bags and flopping onto the bed. He fresh sheets make him realize that even if it was an extra $20 per night, hell, he may not have cared.

"Dean!" Samuel, or Sam, runs into the bar through the back door and into a supplies closet. The time is sharp noon, when Dean usually gets his break and makes time to talk to his little brother. As usual, the two are huddled up and talking to each other. Dean attempts to shush his brother, knowing that talking too loud would get them both in trouble, but it seems something exciting is rattling his little brother's nerves.

"Dear God, Sam, what's up with you t'day?" Dean's hair is neatly slicked back, wearing suspenders with his outfit and toothpick getting gnawed between his teeth. Sam makes himself comfortable before quietly clapping his hands.

"Oh, Dean! Y'know Castiel, right? The lawyer from a few towns over?" Sam's smile is immeasurably beaming with joy and anticipation which Dean can't help but return. The name rings a bell so he takes a few moments to scan his memory before his aha moment washes over. Dean nods, now confused why his brother would bring him up. Sam then mirrors him nodding before grabbing Dean's shoulder.

"Dean he's in Hays County! I swear! I thought I saw 'm walking into Rowena's place earlier and when I was talking a trot over to drop of something f'her, she told me the man's in town. T-They he's 'n angel Dean. Maybe he can give Alastair a run for his money." Sam would be jumping through the roof if he wasn't sitting down or cramped into the tiny closet, but no heed. Dean's eyes go wide before he's shaking his head in disbelief.

"Hays County? Why would the man c'mere? Thought he swore never to?" Dean asks his brother innocently and Sam simply shrugs his shoulders.

"Couldn't tell ya Dean. Man I wonder what's g'nna happen. Might the see the buildings to ashes Dean there's g'nna be fights goin' on!" Sam shakes his brother who scoffs before rolling his eyes. 

"Sammy, when'd he come by-" "DEAN! DEAN WINCHESTER!" A voice comes booming from a few ways from the door and Sam nearly smashes his head trying to get out of the closet before Dean practically scoops him out and hauls him near the exit. "We're talking about this over dinner!" Sam slams the door shut after half-whispering and Dean would've let out a cuss if it wasn't for Alastair coming down the hallway, grabbing him by his collar. Dean can anticipate what's coming in, only glad his brother got out in time.

"Y'take too long for these damn breaks. Come out here. We got a customer I need you for." Alastair doesn't even spare a glance before marching out of the room and releasing Dean's collar, leaving him a bit shaken but quickly returning to smoothen out his outfit and hair. Normally, Dean would feel upset and scared because being needed for a customer meant sex. He was a doll, a toy used to the sake of Alastair's business but whatever brought to the money.

Whatever.

Dean messily cleans his shoes, hoping to give them as much sparkle as the time would allow before he's stepping through the hallway again, opening to the door to an eerily quiet and frozen bar. His eyes dart around, trying to find the source and he's almost 99% sure he finds it when a certain blue-eyed man has every pair of eyes in the bar on him.

Suddenly, the newspaper pictures all come flooding back into his mind. Castiel. The angel. The lawyer. Dean's breath in caught in his throat as he take a few moments, raking his eyes over the man's suit, impeccably clean and neatly folded beneath his long, caramel colored coat and hat, expertly paired together. He's sitting at the leisure of his space, quietly reading a book and ignoring the silent drama he has started. Dean feels fearful, knowing Castiel and his track record would make him worthy of exile in any place Alastair is within two miles of.

Alastair grumbles before grabbing Dean's arm, pulling him from behind the counter and over to the table where Castiel is sitting. His heart is pounding as he mentally (and physically) prepared himself to talk to the man who looks like he came straight from a dream. The chairs screech against the floor distastefully as Alastair pulls Dean's out too before pushing him down and sitting down himself, throwing a nasty look at the poor man before refocusing on Castiel. As though on purpose, Castiel flips a page and skims a few more words before slowly raising his head and letting out a sigh.

"Can I help you?" Castiel asks the question with authority, almost as though Alastair's place is actually his. The domineering, refreshing tone in his voice is almost like oxygen Dean is desperate to breathe in, but he doesn't move, refusing to give away his giddiness. Alastair seems to be irked by this comment, contorting his features for just a second before letting out a wicked laugh. 

"You have the audacity to walk in'a my bar and ask me that, Novak. But allow me the honor of being the bigger person 'ere. How can I help you, Novak?" Alastair leans forward, crossing one leg over the other and waiting for Castiel to respond, watching as his face stays just as neutral as ever. His stability strikes Dean as he watches with hidden intent, but one so strong that he's sure Castiel could look over into his eyes and realize Dean is in love with him already.

Dean stays still.

"I've got to eat, Alastair. Not here for a fight if I'm quite honest." Castiel tilts his head to the side, staring directly back at Alastair and Dean feels his heart break a bit. It's typical, that Dean is ignored until Alastair introduces him. He's not sure if something about his stance indicates he's submissive to Alastair and a worthless add-on, or if people are simply too selfish to ask question because no-one has had the guts to stand up to Alastair, even if it from a place of genuine curiosity.

Alastair laughs in response to Castiel's statement and Dean sits quietly, peacefully trying to avoid any conflicts before Castiel dares and looks over into Dean's eyes. Dean's heart swells as his lips part, almost desperate to speak but with Alastair next to him, he doesn't dare to make a move. His lips go back into a thin line and Castiel seems to take note before looking away.

But he doesn't stop.

"Who's this?" Castiel addresses Alastair as though Dean is his subordinate and Dean's not sure if he should be offended or thankful. Did Castiel realize Alastair exercised an unfair amount of control over Dean or was Castiel like every other man he expected to meet?

"Just a pretty thing of mine. Tell him your name doll." Well, alright. Alastair never referred to Dean in this way always cutting to the point and saying "name" to shorten the conversation. If they showed interest, he'd just hand them a key and stare at Dean until the boy followed the next customer to their room and provided them with...services.

"D-Dean-" "DON'T STUTTER DAMNIT." And there it is. Dean knew Alastair wouldn't be able to stop his anger and here it is. Those sweet nothings didn't last for long, Dean thinks. Dean turns to look at Alastair in his eyes, feeling a strange sense of courage. He knows its wrong but he can't help it, appreciating how Alastair seems to twitch in discomfort at such a subtle show of rebellion. 

And with that, Dean turns to Castiel, staring into his ocean-blue eyes before saying his name with a perfect cadence. And unexpectedly, reaching a hand out.

"Dean Winchester. It's a pleasure to meet you Mr.Novak." Dean can feel the inside of slowly shaking, like his resolve is quite literally shaking from inside to out. But it's reinforced because Castiel gives an absolutely beautiful smile, his eyes crinkling as his hand cups Dean's.

"Likewise, Dean." This entire time, Alastair is staring holes into Dean, unsure of what to do. After Castiel and Dean shake hands, they retract, quietly yet with a comfortable amount of satisfaction. Castiel shifts his eyes, looking back at Alastair and saying "I like him."

Dean keeps his head down. Normally he'd take offense, but something in the inflection of Castiel's words tells Dean the lawyer knows exactly what he's doing.

Alastair is still at a loss of words, but he slams a key on the table. 

"If it means it'll get you out of m' f'ckin town, use him as you'd like." Alastair grits his words out before turning to looking at Dean and pointing a finger. "You are going to get it from me. My office as soon as..." Alastair gives a hard stare at Castiel before looking back at Dean with distaste. "This man is finished with you." The man gets up, stomping away into the back as Dean turns and lifts his head up slightly, staring at the key and praying Castiel wouldn't take it. That key unlocked only sacrifice for Dean.

Castiel clears his throats before ticking his head up, indicating for Dean to stand up. He does, hands lightly shaking before Castiel takes the keys and stands in front of Dean before.

"Just do what I tell you, Dean. It'll be okay." Castiel's breath