3 AM
Castiel blinked into existence inside the Men of Letters bunker. He was careful not to make a sound. He knew the Winchesters were asleep, but was also keenly aware that even the slightest noise would change that. Those two had not survived this long by being heavy sleepers. He debated pulling his "invisible girl" act as Dean liked to put it, but didn't feel it was necessary right now. He listened, his head tilted slightly. He could hear muffled music. Dean probably fell asleep with his headphones on again. Sam's room was completely silent other than his breathing.
He considered doing something to let them know he was here, leaving a note, making some sound, but he didn't want to do that, not yet. It would be a dangerous distraction for all of them. He was in a precarious place, trying to decide if he wanted the position of power that had been left vacant with Bartholomew's death. If he wanted to risk once again the possibility of his poor judgment wreaking havoc. Yet he felt he owed it to his angel brethren to do something right, just this once, to see if he could bring about some semblence of peace and normalcy for the other angels. To see if he could bring down Metatron and repair heaven.
He walked slowly through the rooms, past the long tables littered with short stacks of books, and into the kitchen. The coffee pot gleamed on the counter next to a couple of shiny white and red cups. Everything in here was neat and put away. The care the Winchesters took with this place was obvious. Their sense of reverence, as if they feared the bunker might vanish if they didn't respect it, as everything else was always taken from them.
He wanted to peek into the bedrooms, watch them sleep. See for himself that they were alright but he was afraid of waking them and he could hear Dean's voice echo through his head reminding him that watching people sleep was creepy. He was worried though, particularly about Dean and his state of mind. When they had last parted ways, Dean had seemed broken beyond anything Castiel had ever seen and he was truly concerned that his friend might have finally reached the point where he could no longer carry on. Before he really thought through what he was doing, he very, very cautiously popped into Dean's room and stood silently in the corner.
It was dark, but Castiel could still see, at least a little. The music was louder in here, he was actually surprised Dean could sleep with those headphones on. His face was relaxed as he snored softly. Castiel could see the weariness in his expression though, the strain of recent months. He and Sam were still at odds and Dean's overwhelming guilt tore at him. Castiel wanted nothing more than to stay here, to try and help them make peace, but he knew his time was better spent on the angel war, on trying to make the factions come together. This would keep his friends safe better than him being here. He also knew this this chasm was something they had to bridge alone, or it would never happen. He sighed softly to himself, a purely human gesture.
Two fingers on his right hand twitched, a subconscious desire to reach out and touch the sleeping man. But no amount of angel mojo could fix this. He knows he should just leave, there is nothing he could do here and he can't stay as much as he would like to. He had to fix the mess he made and Sam and Dean had to fix whatever this was, and he didn't want Dean to have to feel responsible for one more person, which was really the crux of the issue. Dean blamed himself for everything and everyone. He felt his very essence was poisonous. Castiel knew this wasn't true, but adding his own presence to the mix would only add to Dean's burden and he didn't want to do that to him.
"Why do you insist on carrying everything on your shoulders?" he muttered softly at his sleeping friend, then with a small whisper of light and air he was gone.
1 AM, Two hours prior
Dean lay on his bed listening to Bon Jovi very loudly through his headphones. At least he didn't have to worry about Sam judging him since Sam didn't seem to want to be anywhere near him right now. Even after Kevin told them to make up, and Dean was really, really hoping that Mr Advanced Placement might be able to get through to Sam, they both ended up alone in their rooms. Sam was such a goddamn bitch sometimes.
He hummed absently and felt his eyes start to close. He wondered briefly what Cas was up to. Now that he had his new batteries they hadn't seen or heard from him since they kicked Gadreel's ass to the curb. He felt a little twist of something in his gut that he tried to ignore, and hoped that wherever the guy was he was safe. It was better if Cas stayed away anyway. Dean was like a death sentence to everyone around him, and it only seemed to be getting worse. If Cas died again, and it was Dean's fault, he knew he could never live with himself. As much as he wanted to stick a blade in Gadreel for Kevin, a teeny part of him still owed the son of a bitch for bringing Castiel back. And Charlie. FUUUUUUCK. Hated the idea of owing that asshat anything. Although really, Kevin's death wiped the slate, so he shouldn't feel indebted.
He started to drift off. His half asleep mind wondered haphazardly how Cas was doing. Wondered when they would hear from him again. The thought of his friend brought him a small smile, and he let sleep claim him.