Dean has never dreaded the sound of wings as much as he does right now. As he feels the air shift, he closes his eyes, steeling himself for what he has to do. Of all times for Cas to answer their prayers. Dean can't help but wish the angel was busy fighting Raphael.
"What do you want?"
The uncomfortable pain in his chest only increases when he opens his eyes and finds Castiel looking at him, his head tilted inquisitively. And why is it that Dean hadn't noticed the tired set of the angel's shoulders until now? Why is it that he can't even try to be annoyed at the impatience that is slowly growing in those eyes at Dean's lack of words.
"Dean, I can't stay here long."
"I know." He says.
The angel frowns, his eyes narrowing as they shift to look at Sam, quiet beside him, then turns around to look at Bobby, standing stiffly at the other side of the room.
It only takes one flick of his hand, and the flame comes to life. The roar of the burning holy oil fills the air as his lighter clutters on the old floor. He can see Castiel's shoulders tense, and Dean schools his features as his friend slowly turns around.
"Dean?" the hesitation in Cas's voice is new. It shouldn't be there. He put it there.
"Sorry, Cas." He shifts on his feet, "But we got some questions for you."
Castiel glances at the ring of fire, then back at him. And that means you have to trap me here? Those eyes are asking him. And Dean honestly doesn't know how to answer.
"It's just insurance, Cas." Sam intercedes, his voice soft, "We can't have you leaving us without answers again."
The angel raises his head, like he's seeing them both for the first time, and the righteous anger that tints his voice more often than not lately makes Dean swallow thickly, "Am I gonna have to explain to you what leading a war entails? I believe I've told you more than enough times, or is the concept that hard to understand?"
"No, Cas, we get it, okay? We do." Castiel's burning stare is back on Dean, and he wavers, "But there's something else you're not telling us. You've been lying to us, Cas. And you keep saying you'll explain, but I don't see that sharin' n' carin' time coming anytime soon in your busy Head Honcho schedule." He's rambling now. But the anger's coming back, and now he can't stop. "So just forget about your freaking war for a minute and tell us what the hell is going on up there."
Cas clenches his jaw and looks down, turning away from them, "Nothing you need to worry about."
"Bull." He growls.
The angel presses his lips in a thin line, heaving a sigh, "Dean—"
"You're lying." He accuses. And that's definitely new. Cas doesn't lie. He didn't ever see the purpose of it before. That he's attempting to do it now only makes his chest tighten.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You're lying." He breathes out a laugh. Because that's just something he never thought he'd get to see. Cas's inability to lie had been annoying before—endearing at times—but Dean himself had thought of giving the angel serious lying lessons at one point.
Not anymore.
Not after hearing him lie to them. Just the thought of Cas getting better at it makes bile crawl up his throat.
Castiel looks up at him again, his pose defeated, but his eyes challenging. He knows he's been caught. But Dean knows the angel won't talk. Because Cas may be a shitty liar, but he sure as hell ain't one to give up easily; stubborn son of a bitch that he is.
They stare each other down for what feels like hours. Knowing neither of them will break, but not backing out. Because Dean's a stubborn asshole too, and that might just be what he and Cas have in common more than anything. He can see Sam exchange a look with Bobby, and he hears his brother shift uncomfortably beside him.
"All those people." Sam starts, "You didn't just let Balthazar unsink the Titanic for a crappy flick." Cas's eyes linger on Dean for a moment before he turns his laser stare on Sam. After Sam stops talking, Cas practically rolls his eyes before finally giving in and asking.
"What do you mean?"
"He means you needed their souls." Bobby's gruff voice makes Castiel tense, and his eyes shift uneasily before he turns his head down and closes them. It's as good a confirmation as they're going to get, and it makes Dean feel nauseous.
For a long moment, the only sound in the room is the crackling of the flames, and Dean's voice is soft as he speaks over it, "What do you need human souls for, Cas?"
Castiel eyes meet his after a moment, and Dean sees so much resigned shame in them that it makes him feel irrationally guilty. He can't help but feel that this is his fault.
During the past year, Cas has been fighting a war on his own, and Dean was too busy with his own problems to even think of the weight his friend has been shouldering by himself all this time.
I can't care about that, Dean.
Maybe if he'd bothered to look past the tight circle of his family he would have seen how Cas has changed.
I don't have the luxury.
And as the room is thrown back into silence, Dean looks at Castiel and wonders what happened that brought them to this point.