"I have to go, Dean."
"Why?"
"You know why."
"I want to hear one good reason. Any reason you have."
Dean fired off his responses like bullets, each one louder and more punctuated than the last. Castiel sighed and turned away from him, unwilling to study the look of betrayal on the other man's face for an extended amount of time. He flexed and curled his fingers, the tension providing some relief. Just one of the nervous habits picked up since his fall from grace.
Dean continued. "I thought we agreed that the best plan was to stick together. That's it. No more flying off."
"I can't fly away anymore." Castiel said, his eyes fluttering closed in frustration, "I'll be driving a car. A car you fixed for me. You said you didn't want me to feel like a prisoner."
Dean crossed the room to face Cas. "I wanted you to feel like you had a home here. That you do have a home here." His face fell and he placed his hands on his hips, looking down. "Is this about- Jesus Christ Cas. I'm not going to argue with you anymore. You do what you gotta do." His voice was rough with exhaustion, but resigned. They had been arguing for what seemed like hours. With a shake of his head, Dean turned and walked out of the library towards the door to the outside.
"Dean!" Cas called, but the door had already slammed shut.
Dean was proud of himself for staying relatively sober these days. Unwanted or not, purgatory had done wonders for his once budding alcoholism. A fight like that could have turned into a whiskey binge followed by a one night stand with a bartender named Shirley in the good old days. Or he could have stumbled back to the bunker, eyes blurry and ready to throw punches at the former-angel. These days, he just tried to walk it off. The things fresh air could do.
Night had fallen in earnest by the time he got back to the bunker. The lights were dim in the quiet hallway as he walked down the hall to his bedroom, unbuttoning his outer shirt and slipping off his boots as he went. Sammy would complain about the mud in the hallway in the morning, but for now he couldn't find it within himself to care.
Dean glanced over at Cas's door next to his own. It was shut and the light was off; hopefully he was getting some sleep. A new day would change his mind.
He entered his own room, flipping on the light. A small package and a note sat in the middle of his bed, along with a cell phone placed carefully on the nightstand.
Cas's cell phone.
His heart sank into his stomach.
Picking up the letter first, he read:
Dean,
I've made my decision, and I hope you can forgive me for leaving again. By the time you get this I hope you are in better spirits than when we parted.
I have to help my family. You of all people can come to understand this, I hope. I've played too many parts in the destruction of heaven, and I will put it right, even if I'm only a man now. I took with me a copy of the coordinates for every fallen angel that the bunker recorded. It would seem that they all fell in "clumps" in singular locations. I hope to find the fallen and see if we can form some semblance of unity and organization. I left another copy behind in case you and Sam need them.
I also left behind the cell phone that you gave me. I know that there are other ways of tracking me that are more sophisticated, but carrying a portable GPS in my pocket isn't wise for my current goals.
Finally, the package I left is for you. It's a journal. Unlike an ordinary journal, however, this one has an enochian symbol carved on its cover by my own hand. The symbol is incomplete, its counterpart drawn on another journal I have in my possession. Whatever you write in your journal, I will be able to see. The same goes for mine to you. Angels used to use this in Heaven when they wanted to have a private conversation that wasn't broadcasted on "Angel Radio." The practice has long since been forbidden, but I imagine rules like that don't apply anymore. It's my hope that you will write to me, and let me know what is happening with you, Sam, and Kevin. I don't wish to cut off communication like I've done in the past.
I know we didn't part on the best terms. I only hope that you can understand why it is I have to do this. It's better this way. And I have always been horrible at goodbyes, like you say.
Your friend,
Castiel
Dean sat frozen for a moment. After reading the letter through a second time, resisting the urge to tear it up and throw it in the furnace, he set it aside carefully and picked up the package. He tore off the newspaper wrappings to unveil the symbol Cas had spoken of. It was unlike any other Enochian symbol he had ever seen; all flowing lines that seemed to go unfinished to the end of the leather bound journal's cover.
He was no writer, but it wasn't like he could just pray anymore.
CASTIEL GET BACK HERE YOU FUCKING MARTYR. YOU THINK I'M GONNA PLAY PEN PALS WITH YOU BECAUSE YOU CAN'T FUCKING FACE ME?! YOU'RE WRONG. YOUR YOU'RE DEAD WRONG. YOU CANT I NEED GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE.
…
…
Cas? Come on man it's been two days. If you're not coming back at least let me know you're alive. Do you even know how to drive that car?
…
…
FINE YOU BASTARD. WALK AWAY JUST LIKE ALWAYS. HAVE FUN WITH YOUR ANGEL BUDDIES! GO AHEAD IT'S NOT LIKE YOU HAVE ME A FAMILY HERE WORRYING ABOUT YOU. FUCK YOU CAS. Fuck you and you're your stupid diary.
…
Jesus Cas. At least tell me where you are. Are you ok? Did you even take any cash with you? Are you eating? You have to do that kind of shit now, on your own. Come on buddy, don't do this. Please Cas I won't get pissed. Okay I'm totally gonna get pissed but I we need to know you're alright. -Dean
Dean,
I apologize for my late response. I'm ashamed to say that while this was my idea, watching your words appear, angry as you are, was overwhelming. It's not an excuse. But I am still learning to deal with these new… emotions. Being a fallen angel is nothing compared to being a souled human. I don't know if I'll ever adjust.
To answer your questions, yes, I do know how to drive this car. I recall having a fine teacher to "show me the ropes." Please let Kevin know that I listen to the CD he made me every day while I drive, even though I know you wouldn't approve of his music selections.
As for the money inquiry, I couldn't take any more of yours or Sam's money. I plan to stay in my current location for a short while and have gotten a job washing dishes at a local Biggersons. They say I can have all the coffee I can drink for free. And a paycheck every two weeks. They seem to be taking my identity as fact for now.
Am I ok? I suppose so. My days are long and filled with work and then my nights are taken up with searching for lost angels. You will be the first to know if I have any success.
Give Sam my regards and keep me updated on his health. Tell Kevin I am sorry I won't be able to help him with his tablet translations for now.
Your friend,
Castiel