Dean sat in the front seat of the Impala tapping the wheel with one thumb. He glanced down at the keys he held in his other hand and questioned for what felt like the 965th time if this was a good idea. They hadn't heard anything definitive from Cas in weeks, just a couple very short text messages indicating he was still alive. Crowley was who the fuck knows where and Sam was still creeping around the bunker like any small interaction with Dean would cause him to spontaneously combust. All he had to hang onto was those stupid texts from Cas, and he was holding on like they were a damn life raft and he was on the Titanic. He pulled out his phone and looked at it again.
"I'm ok" was the last one, a couple days ago. It was so small, so short, but in it he found some hope. Cas was still fighting the good fight. Even after all this time and all his fuck ups, the dude just kept coming. He had made a few calls, told a few lies, and managed to get the GPS turned on for Castiel's phone. But now that he knew where the guy was, he couldn't make up his mind to go there. Yeah, he knew he could pray and beg and Cas would probably flutter into the bunker on a breeze of ice and thunder, but Dean really wanted to clear his head, spend some time driving, ALONE, and see if there was anything he could do to help Cas. See if Cas could do anything to help him…
That last thought came unbidden, he didn't really need help, did he? I mean, yeah, he and Sam were a mess together but there was nothing Castiel could do for that. And the stupid Mark of Cain didn't seem to be doing anything at the moment that would warrant angelic assistance. What the fuck did he want from Cas? He didn't really know. Maybe he wanted to see someone look at him like he wasn't a waste of space. A complete failure. Like Sam looked at him now. Like his own face in the mirror. Only Cas had tried to tell him he was stupid for the right reasons. He didn't buy it, not really, but the thought of being with someone who did actually believe it was comforting. Helpful. He put the keys in the ignition.
The two lanes ahead of him were clear, not many cars, he turned the music up really loud, and he loved the crisp air whistling through the passenger window he had cracked open. Being alone, in his car, just driving, was balm. Soothing. Calming. It was dark out and the stars glittered like ice shards in the chill night. He glanced at the clock. It was somewhere around 2am. He noticed a sign for an all night truck stop and decided to pull over for some coffee to go and keep rolling.
He noticed a sign for Des Moines and figured he was getting close. Cas was just outside the city. It was nearing 4am, and he should probably stop, be he figures he will be where he wants to be around 4:30 and if he just make it, he knows Cas will be awake. Angels don't sleep anyway. He takes another swig of the coffee which was now cold and pretty nasty. But he swallows anyway. His cell buzzes on the seat beside him. Sam. He ignores it. Fuck that pain in the ass. A few moments pass. A text pings. He sighs and looks at it quickly. "Where the fuck are you!?" he reads and chuckles. "If you read the goddamn note I left on the goddamn table you would know where I was, jackass!" he says out loud to the phone, then tosses it back down. Texting and driving isn't the best plan when you are awake in the wee hours and running on fumes for energy. He'll call Sam later. After he gets to Castiel. He envisions the bitchface Sam must be making at the phone because Dean is not responding and laughs a little. He notices this is the exit he wants and veers onto the ramp. He will be there by 4:30 for sure.
The motel is small and crappy and almost empty. It only takes a $10 at the desk to find out Cas's room from the 20 something guy sitting there with his eyes glued to the television. Dean still doesn't really know why he is doing this, or why he so doesn't want Cas to know he is coming. Warning or not, if he wants to, the guy can literally vanish into thin air. Something he doesn't really understand is driving him, so he surrenders to it. He walks back outside, down the line of rooms to 543. He lifts his hand to knock, pauses for a breath, two, three, then very gently raps his knuckles on the door. He doesn't hear anything. The thought flits across his mind that maybe Cas is asleep. I mean, the grace he has isn't really his Grace, maybe his isn't fully angeled up. His doubts whirl, and he takes a step back, wonders if he should just leave, then the door cracks open and he sees one sapphire blue eye peek out. As soon as Castiel realizes who it is, the door opens the rest of the way and he breathes out Dean's name in that gravel voice.
"Hey, Cas" Dean tries his best to smile and be nonchalant, despite his overwhelming desire to literally pick his friend up and squeeze him to death. Fortunately Cas can't be squeezed to death, side perk of the whole angel deal,
Castiel's face is bemused, and swiftly flickers with concern. "What's wrong, how did you find me? Where's Sam?" The questions are rapid fire.
" Can I come in first?" Dean huffs a laugh. Cas frowns, still confused, but steps back and lets Dean through the door.
