Hello, gracious people who decided to click on the link to my story. Thank you for coming to read it. It means a lot to me, and I'll try not to bore you. I hope you find this chapter thrilling, and though I can't promise a consistent update schedule, I will try to post the next chapter ASAP. As always, review if you like my story (or if you didn't). It helps me know whether I should keep going or not. Thanks! ~RingHunterWizard~

The door to Dean's bedroom burst open, letting in Dean, and wrapped around him very tightly, a woman. The two of them fell on the bed, the woman straddling him.

It had taken two drinks at the bar to get the woman, whose name was Millie(or something like that), to talk to him, and a couple more until they were kissing. After that it was easy to convince her to come home with him.

They were half undressed now, his shirt and her pant off, when Dean's phone rang. Millie moaned.

"Ohh, that feels so good. What is that?" The phone buzzed again and Dean sighed, sliding Millie to the side and pulling out the phone.

"What?" Dean barked, annoyed. "Speak quickly, you're interrupting my private time."

"Dean! First of all, gross. And, second of all, where the hell are you?" Sam hissed. "You were supposed to be here half an hour ago!"

"Where exactly is 'here'?" Dean asked, slowly sitting up. Next to him, Millie sighed loudly.

"The music gala fundraiser!" Sam said. Shit.

""That's tonight?" Dean asked. Sam groaned.

"Look, I have to go, but get your ass over here right now. We can't start without you, and Dad and I can only hold them off with appetizers for so long." Sam hung up, and Dean wrenched himself out of Millie's grasp, running to the closet to grab his clothes.

"Dean... come on!" Millie complained. In her drunken state, it didn't seem to register that Dean was leaving.

"Look, um Millie-." Dean started.

"Maisie..." She corrected.

"Uh, Maisie. I have to go. You're welcome to spend the night here if you want, but I gotta go. Call my butler if you need anything." WIth that, he raced out of the door, pulling his dress jacket on.

It took Dean 10 minutes to arrive at the gala site. He, Sam and his father were hosting a fundraiser to raise money for the local school music program. It was no secret that the Winchesters were the richest people in town thanks to their multi-million dollar car company, and John Winchester encouraged his sons to help their town whenever they could.

"Sammy!" Dean called. Sam whirled around, giving Dean his classic bitch-face, before turning back to the person he was talking. Dean walked up to the two people.

"And this is my brother, Dean." Sam stated, gesturing at Dean. "Dean, this is Chuck Shurley." Sam looked at Dean pointedly.

Am I supposed to know this guy? Dean asked Sam silently.

Oh, I am going to murder you tonight. Sam gave Dean a death glare and then cleared his throat.

"Well, Mr. Shurley, now that my brother's here, we can start the concert." Chuck grinned.

"Great!" He turned to Dean. "You know, I've always loved music." He looked around before telling Dean. "I even taught myself how to play the guitar." He smiled, as if it was some kind of joke. Dean cleared his throat.

"That's, uh, great. Anyway, I should go join my brother in, uh, starting the concert. Enjoy the show." He said, before hurrying off. That had been awkward. Then again, small talk just wasn't his forte. Give him someone to flirt and seduce and he was good, but everyday conversation just wasn't his thing. That was probably why his relationships never lasted past one night.

"Hey. So, who was that guy?" Dean asked, jogging to catch up with Sam.

"Chuck Shurley, head of an instrument rental company downtown. He's our biggest donor, and if he's happy and likes the gala and decides to donate, so will everyone else." Sam said, heading into the theater.

"Well, he seemed way too happy for a guy wearing a 4-piece suit."

"Yeah, Dean, it's called formal wear. Something you have yet to learn how to do." Sam remarked, glancing down at Dean's black t-shirt and jeans.

"Hey, this is as formal as I get! I'm even wearing a fucking suit jacket and dress shoes. God, I feel too overdressed." Dean said. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Whatever, drama queen. Our seats are up in the box if you want to go sit. I'm going to let Dad know we're ready to start." Sam said, and headed back stage. Dean went up into the box, watching people file into the auditorium and perusing through the program. It was a bunch of classical music crap that he didn't care about, sonatas and waltzes and preludes with performers he didn't even recognize, though Sam had insisted that they were some of the best in their field.

Sam slid into the seat next to him as the light dimmed and the curtain swung open. Their father was standing up front, and made a welcoming speech.

"Good evening everyone! I hope you have all enjoyed your evening so far. We thank you most sincerely for coming here today to support our..." Dean zoned out, tapping Sam on the shoulder.

"Sam. Sam. Sam!"

"What, Dean?"

"How long do you think the program will take?"

"Why?"

"Because I'm hungry and I want dinner."

"I don't know, Dean."

"But I want to know."

"Dude, are you drunk?"

"Only slightly." Dean said. Sam shook his head and turned his attention back to the stage.

"...and without further ado, I would like to welcome Castiel Novak, playing Polonaise, Opus 53, by Chopin!"

There was a loud uproar from the crowd below, as they whooped and cheered. Even Sam was in shock.

"Oh my god, I had no idea he was even coming!" Sam said, gaping.

"Am I supposed to know this dude?" Dean asked.

"Castiel Novak is the best pianist, period. I mean, he keeps to himself mostly, not much about him is known to the public. But he's really good. He came to the US on a scholarship to a music school from Russia, and then he just, slowly started gaining fame, I guess. But seriously, I don't even know how Dad managed to book him for our concert! He's like, legend" Sam gushed excitedly.

"Well, okay then, Uber-Nerd." Dean remarked, but Sam shushed him, turning his head towards the stage.

Dean studied Castiel. He couldn't tell much from his view, but Dean could see dark, ruffled hair. Castiel sat down at the piano, and the crowd fell silent instantly. There was a tense silence in the air, and then he started playing.

It was a sudden flurry of notes, and it took Dean by surprise.

Dean loved rock music. Nothing would ever top that. But even he had to admit that this piece was interesting, in the least.

But what was more interesting than the piece was Castiel. He seemed to be in a world of his own, where only he and the music existed. His long, elegant fingers glided across the keys, practically flying, and his body swayed in time with the music. Normally, this would have been something that Dean would have poked fun at, but he was too enraptured by the pianist to care. He sat at the edge of his seat, absorbing the music. At the end of the piece, Dean didn't hesitate to stand up and clap with the same fervor as everyone else.

Castiel bowed, smiling, and then suddenly, his gaze shifted to Dean. They locked eyes, and Dean stared into Castiel's electric blue were alert and intense, boring into Dean's green eyes. The gaze sent shivers down his spine, but Dean shook it off immediately. You give people the shivers. People don't give shivers to you, he scolded himself. But honestly, the shiver felt good. Castiel averted his gaze once more, smiling and bowing more before walking off the stage.

Sam elbowed him. "Dude. You were totally into this piece." He grinned at Dean.

"I-No, I was not." Dean said stubbornly.

"So, that overly-enthusiastic clapping at the end was just formalities?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I was being nice." Dean said. "I'm not some classical music-loving, peace-making hippie like you. I prefer my rock, thanks." Dean said. And it was true, somewhat. He still didn't like classical music. It was just that one piece. And that one performer…

The rest of the concert passed by in a blur, the pieces overlapping with one another until Dean couldn't remember how many songs he had listened to. The only one that stood out to him was the first one, and after that, he had alternated between dozing off and annoying Sam.

Finally, Sam and Dean joined their father up on the stage to give closing remarks. "Once again, I thank all of you for coming here tonight to listen to these wonderful musicians play." There was a scattering of polite applause. "We are still counting the final numbers, but we have raised over 50,000 dollars for our music programs in local schools. I can assure, this money will be put to good use." More applause. "We would like to invite you to stay for dinner, which will be served in the main ballroom. Once again, thank you all and have a wonderful night." The crowd hastily applauded and then scampered off to the main ballroom for dinner.

"Well, that was a success. What's for dinner?" Dean asked.

The majority of the crowd had finally dispersed to their own homes, and only a select few people were left, including the musicians. People were milling around, lounging and talking to each other. Dean had been observing Castiel all throughout dinner, and had learned quite a few facts about him.

He was short. Well, he was taller than average people, reaching 5'11, but short compared to him and Sam.

He had the deepest and most beautiful voice Dean had ever heard. It was low and gravelly, and some part of him wondered how it would sound in bed, moaning Dean's name.

His eyes were a piercing blue. He had seen people with blue eyes before, but Castiel's were clearer and brighter, and he could see the color in them from miles away.

His hair was dark and ruffled, like he had just gotten out of bed, and it looked so damn sexy.

Dean had also come to a very important decision. By the end of the night, he wanted Castiel in his bed. His catchphrase? If someone's hot, go for it. And that was exactly what he would do.

It had been a long night for Castiel. Make no mistake, he was always happy to perform. But coming here had brought back certain memories that he didn't want to relive. He so desperately wanted to leave, but he was stopped again and again by people who wanted to talk to him. It was horrible, being famous, no matter how spoiled he sounded saying that. He would much rather stay at home, composing and playing his music to himself. But he supposed if he wanted to keep performing, he would have to deal with all the extra paraphernalia.

As he made his way towards the exit, he was stopped once more by John Winchester. Castiel sighed. "Hello, Mr. Winchester." He said, trying to sound at least a little happy.

"Hello, Castiel. I just wanted to thank you again for coming out and playing for us today before you left. You were the single reason why we raised more money than I needed. I mean, what I expected to raise."

"Oh, no problem, sir. It's my pleasure to come and give back to the community. After all, it was a program like this that launched my career.." He replied politely.

"Please, Castiel, call me John. After all we've done for each other, I should think that we're on a first name basis." John replied.

"Of course." Just then, another man walked up to John, saving Castiel from further conversation.

"Hey, dad." Dad. One look into the man's playful green eyes and Castiel knew who it was. The same person who had caught his eye in the auditorium. Dean Winchester.

Castiel had never been one to support the rich kids, the privileged ones who lived their lives in luxury and never knew a day's worth of hard work. Not like he did. So, naturally, he had hated Dean Winchester since the moment their eyes met. His brother Sam wasn't half bad, since being the legal representation for Winchester Motors had probably required some legitimacy, but Dean was the kind that threw everything to the wind and partied, just waiting until his father retired to get the company handed to him, wasting his time in drinks and pleasure.

"Dean. Perfect timing." John Winchester turned to Castiel. "Castiel, met my son Dean Winchester. I-" He suddenly grabbed his phone from his pocket and glanced at it. "Well." John said, looking back up. "It appears there's some emergency needing my attention. If you'll excuse me, boys, I just need to check this out." He glanced pointedly at Dean on his way out, as if saying Don't you dare mess this up, leave a good impression on Castiel, you dumbass.

Dean smirked, turning to Castiel. Now was a perfect time to put his plan into action. "So, Cas. Can I call you that? Cas? Castiel seems too formal." Castiel's reaction wasn't what Dean expected it to be.

"You can cut the act, Winchester." He said in a low, unrestricted voice, completely different from how he had been talking with Dean's father. He glared up at Dean.

Dean was taken aback. "Wha- I didn't do anything!" He protested, matching Castiel's glare evenly.

"You didn't have to. I already know your intentions."

"Oh, really? What am I trying to do, then?" Dean shot back, and then grimaced. That wasn't the best of comebacks, but then again, he had been caught off guard. He didn't expect Castiel to retaliate. The Winchester Charm almost never failed.

"If you're trying to get laid, try going to a club. They'll be plenty of people there willing." Castiel said calmly.

"What, you don't swing that way?"

"I never said that. I'm just not looking for a meaningless one night stand with a jerk." Castiel told him. "Anyway, if that's all you've got. I'll be going now." He walked away, leaving Dean shocked. No one ever did that to him. Ever.

He was still wearing a shocked face when Sam walked over. "What, your 'genius plan' didn't work?" He teased. "I thought the Winchester Charm always worked."

"Shut up, bitch." Dean said bitterly.

"Jerk." Sam replied habitually. He patted his brother on his shoulder consolingly, but Dean barely acknowledged the gesture. In his mind, he was planning all the ways he could get Castiel to hook up with him. Dean wasn't a quitter, and no matter how long it would take, Castiel would be his.

John Winchester stepped out into the alley. He knew it would be risky to be out here, anyone could exit the building at any moment. But it was now or never.

"John Winchester." said a familiar voice with a distinct British accent. "I didn't think you'd show."

"Well lucky for you, Crowley, I'm not a lying, cheating, scumbag who breaks half of their deals." John snarled. Crowley merely smiled, stepping out from the shadows.

"Now, now, John, you give me too much credit. I break all of my deals, not just half of them. But good for you, you've caught on, at least." Crowley remarked dryly. "Now, let's go over our deal, shall we? I save your pitiful little company for ten years, provide for you monetary needs and well being, and in return…" Crowley prompted.

"I give you the money." John stated.

"And Dean, lest you forget." Crowley reminded him. John swallowed.

"Yes, and Dean." He agreed. "For whatever you want to do with him."