"You can't do this, Cas."
"Dean, I have to," the angel replied. He looked at Dean's face, as was a habit of his. The lines and wrinkles engraved into the flesh. A young man experienced to many lives. Castiel, however, showed little expression. Despite the angel's age, his years had only started to show once he began his time on Earth. The angel did not sleep, yet he had grown tired. A resigned demeanor was his usual companion. This resignation hung behin the orbs sitting within his skull, never knowingly shown and difficult to find.
The human soldier stood across from him, within their typical short distance. His jaw lay slack, his authority gone and reduced to pleading. His lips had parted slightly, causing oral respiration. Typical of ill humans or those experiencing strong emotions. Dean was emotional. The furrowed brow eliminated positive emotions. Consistent body temperature proved rage inaccurate. Sadness, then. Dean was sad.
"I have to return to Heaven." Dean broke eye contact, stepping away for a moment. Castiel felt the need to comfort him. "Only for a little while."
"It doesn't matter how long, Cas!" Dean interrupted. The angel's eyes widened slightly. He had been expecting anger, but this sudden display of frustration startled him. Dean continued to shuffle about, not quite pasing, but frantically trying to find something to do physically. He was a soldier, after all. He only knew physical ways to complete tasks. Left incapable of stopping the broken angel, his body resorted to making up for his failure through physical means.
"You don't have to go anywhere, Cas." Dean's voice had softened. His frustration had waned after the burst.
"I need to see what I've done," the angel insisted. "All the damage and pain I've caused-"
"No, Cas," Dean pleaded. "You don't… What you've done is a hell of a lot of good." His insistant stare became uncomfortable for the angel. He was wrong. He believed his words, yes, but did so wrongly. Castiel had caused so much pain. He had killed his brothers and sisters. He released the Leviathans. He had become self-righteous, naming himself God. Pride—one of the Deadly Sins. He held himself in false idolism, one of the forbidden acts set forth by his Father. His Father… What would He say of Castiel?
No. The angel couldn't think of that now. One task at a time. Right now a friend stood before him, and Castiel could not cause more suffering.
"I've caused more pain than good, Dean." The soldier's jaw set. Indication of imminent defeat. "I can't- I need retribution. I have to set things right."
"Things are fine—look around you. We're hunting; catching monsters." The angel returned his eyes to Dean. The soldier was desperate now. Silence hung in the air. "What about… What about what you told me? About going back to Heaven?" The angel couldn't respond. "You said, that if you went back to Heaven, you might-"
"I am aware of what I said, Dean." The soldier's jaw shut once more. Defeat. "I have to go."