Cas slams the brakes right behind the Impala and springs out of the car. He tries to keep calm, at first, as he knocks the door, waits a few moments for the response. But when no sound comes from the inside, he can't stop his fist from banging against the metal.
Still nothing.
He pulls out his phone and dials Dean.
"I'm here," he says as soon as he hears Dean's voice. "Let me in."
"Great. Didn't see you coming." Dean's voice is calm, soothing Cas's nerves like a balm. "I'm not inside."
Cas shoots a glance to the black hood of the Impala, reflecting the golden glow of the moon.
"Where are you?"
"Look up."
Cas tilts his head back like he expects Dean to fall from the sky and right into his arms.
"Cas!" comes Dean's voice, not from the speaker, this time, but a distant call.
The angel runs up the stairs and back to the street. At the edge of the bunker's roof, there's Dean's dark shape waving at him on the backdrop of yellow and blue sky, bright as if the sun already began to rise.
"Climb up the west side," Dean instruct him and ends the call before Cas can warn him not to stumble.
Dean's waiting for him as he reaches the roof.
"What's wrong?" He scrutinizes Dean's form wide-eyed. There are cuts and bruises on his face, his jacket is ragged, one sleeve nearly torn off, long lacerations on his jeans, the fabric covered in blood. "You're hurt."
Cas reaches out to Dean, fingers graze his bared collarbone. He mends the skin, blood vessels, muscle before Dean can open his mouth to answer.
"How's Sam?"
"Thanks, Cas." Dean flashes him a smile. "Sam's much better than this, just a few bruises."
"What happened? Did the werewolf–?"
Dean waves a hand. "Son of a bitch kicked our asses, the giant up there powered it up big time. But it's been dealt with."
Cas follows Dean's eyes to the enormous, golden orb hanging in the sky, brightening it up with the borrowed light.
"Yes." Cas nods. "Its position is the closest to Earth in sixty-eight years. Its influence on werewolves, humans, and other creatures is sure to be strengthened."
"Yeah, we figured that much."
"I'll go take care of Sam," Cas says, starting towards the ladder, but Dean stops him with a hand on his wrist.
"Wait, Cas. I didn't call you to heal our ouchies. We've both had worse."
Cas cocks his head to the side, his brow furrows. "Then why did you call me? You sounded anxious."
He steps closer, turns Cas around towards the gigantic moon.
"I wasn't anxious. I was excited. A little," Dean adds with a lopsided smile. "Didn't mean to scare you."
"Oh," Cas huffs as Dean presses his arm along his.
Dean's eyes are fixed on the moon, but Cas turns his head in a different direction. To the green that has turned golden, to the irises that became two reflections of the brilliant satellite.
"Sorry, it was stupid I had you drive all the way here," Dean mutters, taking Cas's stare for indifference.
But it's not indifference. The phenomenon named by people "Supermoon" is truly gorgeous and rare in human standards. Cas, as an angel, has seen it thousands of times during his existence, from every possible place on Earth. He saw what he should probably call a "Superearth" too, from the surface of the silver globe.
"Don't be," Cas replies, softly, not to disturb the quiet of the moment.
It's not that he's not interested in admiring the supermoon. It's just that there's something else he'd rather admire. Something just as unreachable.
He dares, for just a heartbeat, to brush the back of Dean's palm with his own where they hang between them and Dean doesn't shy away.
Cas smiles. "I wouldn't want to miss this."