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Facing down the end of the world, wanting anything seemed kind of stupid. In comparison, it just didn't make sense. Literal hell was breaking out all around them and the devil was rising and looking at all of that, nothing else should've even ranked. A few weeks ago he'd mostly thought the same, but he'd been wrong. Or at least, wrong for him and it probably came down mostly to the way he was raised, because growing up he'd learned to worry about a multitude of ordinary kid things in the parts of his mind that weren't worrying about the life and death things.

Still, that didn't stop the insanity and irrationality of the way he was feeling, but it did explain why Dean was washing the Impala back behind Bobby's while inside the TV was showing footage of an unnatural series of tornados ripping through Maine. Sure, the world was ending, but for him it'd just been a few weeks since he'd had his eyes opened a little, since he'd found some faith, and for the first time in a long time he had a little ground to stand on, and it was good on the surface. Deep down, though, it'd just made him want more.

Sam had asked him if he remembered when they used to just hunt wendigos, and answering Dean hadn't exactly told him the truth. He did remember, and he missed it like crazy. It was funny in a way, because it wasn't like he hadn't known what he had then. People all the time liked to give sob stories about losing the best time in their life because they hadn't known that's what it was, but he'd known. He'd known the kind of team they were and the way things could work right after he'd picked Sam up from Stanford, and those early years had mostly been the best of his life. Especially that first, because while looking for dad was hard, it was easier than knowing he couldn't be found.

But the point was, he remembered. He remembered and he wanted and it didn't matter if now wasn't the time for it, because it was nearly driving him crazy.

"We need a plan."

He'd gotten used to Cas' awkward, sudden appearances so much that he didn't jump, just flexed his hands a little harder on the sponge as he rubbed at a stubborn spot on the hood. "Looks that way."

"Dean, I know you don't want to consider-"

"Hey Cas?" He took a deep breath, stood up and let the sponge drop into the bucket just by the wheel, the splash sending water up high enough to splatter against the tips of his fingers. "Can we give it a rest?" He was getting that look, the one that told him Cas was about to explain just how dire of a situation they were in, and he just didn't want to hear it. Not even a word of it. "I get it, ok? This…this is it. And trust me, Bobby's already put enough pressure on me about this decision." Which really wasn't his decision at all when it came right down to it, but thinking about that sort of broke the rule about not thinking about it for awhile, so he shut that thought down just as quick. "Just…I know. I'm aware. I'm just takin' a little while to get this done; that's all."

He knelt down before Cas could answer, fished the sponge up out of quickly graying water to start in work on one of the wheels.

"Dean, if aren't going to go with Sam on this, then we need another plan, and-"

"The world gonna end any slower if I stop washin' the car?" Cas didn't answer, and he didn't look up. "Then we can stop talkin' about it until I'm finished." He dropped the sponge in favor of the hose, clicking around until he found a spray that worked well for rinsing off the wheels at close range like this. Reaching back, the sponge was already there waiting for him, held dripping over the bucket. Dean craned his neck to look back over his shoulder, squinting into the sun. "What're you doin'?"

"Helping you finish."

It shouldn't've been funny, really, and he should've said no anyway, but he was already laughing. "Yeah? Alright. Think there's another sponge over there in the garage; you can grab it and start workin' from the trunk down there."

He did just that, wetting it in the bucket before he got to work on the trunk. His movements were careful, measured, and he glanced up at Dean every now and then as if he still wasn't sure how mundane things like this were done. Before, he'd have assumed he was trying not to put too much pressure on the metal, and even though he was human maybe subconsciously that was still the case. Dean knew, old habits died hard.

Either way, he appreciated the care he was taking. There wasn't an inch of this car that didn't have a hundred memories, no single piece of her that hadn't meant something. There were the ones he could remember watching his dad fix, most of which he'd had to replace later with his own hands. There was the window that was stuck shut one year for a whole month and a half in the summer until dad could find the time to fix it. There was the cut in the leather in the back that came from when Dean had fallen asleep with a knife when they were still just kids. Sam had cracked ribs, and he was awake and watching over him because the kobold wasn't dead and it might come back, and then suddenly he wasn't awake anymore and there was a nick in the leather that he hoped dad never found.

And there was the spot Cas was rubbing over right now, the one where Sam had drawn one of the devil's traps to turn the trunk into a lock box when he meant to hide the Colt inside it.

"Cas?"

"Yes?"

"What was heaven like?" Cas shot him a quizzical look over the roof and Dean shook his head, reached up with his arm to rub the sweat back away from his eyes. "No, I don't mean that part, saw more than enough of it. I mean for you, before. It can't be like that for the angels, right? I mean it's…it's home for you, not just a hologram of your greatest hits."

"It was…indescribable."

"That helps."

"No, Dean, I mean that I'm not sure I can tell you in any way that would make sense since you can't ever see it. It's…for angels in their true forms only. In your terms I suppose…" He switched sides, coming closer to Dean to dip his sponge back into the bucket. "It was bright. We spent most of our time with our own garrison, watching, planning. We talk, pass the time. Sing."

"Sing? Like…choir music?"

"I doubt any of it would be music by your standards, Dean, but it's singing, yes."

He could hear it there, just the tiniest bit of humor and he couldn't help but swell with a little bit of pride. Cas might've always had that in him, but the ability to see at least a little bit of something funny in things like that was something it'd been hard to see in his human form for a long, long time.

"You miss it?"

"The others, sometimes. But I don't think…" Dean glanced over in time to see him lick his lips, his brow furrowing. "It wouldn't be the same, now. It doesn't matter, I'm…" He gestured down at his clothes, at the bloodstains he'd recently started accumulating, and a grim smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Unclaimed by either side, since I'm not sure I'm entirely human."

"Well, that's not true." Their eyes met, a flicker before they both looked away. "Think we kinda collect odds and ends around here. You'll be just fine, Cas."

"And you?"

"Oh I'm peachy." Goddamn, Cas knew better than to even ask. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually been fine. Sure, for awhile lately he'd been closer to it but those distances were all relative, now.

"I meant do you miss it. Home." When he didn't answer, Cas spoke up again, a little louder. "Lawrence."

He laughed once, short and sharp and in a way that felt like it left an echo in his chest. "Lawrence isn't home, Cas. Just a place where I was born." Dean cleared his throat, gestured toward the ground. "Hey, don't forget the wheel over there, ok?"

They finished the car in silence, and when he sat down in the dirt to wait for her to dry, he was more satisfied than he'd have cared to admit that Cas sat down beside him.

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