One Thing
Why does he not understand? I rebelled against Heaven, Heaven, for him, yet he refuses to show even mild gratitude for that. He only calls when he needs something, and I, like some lovesick child, stay constantly at his beck and call. He does not seem to grasp the fact that I am in the middle of a civil war, and that this is not something I need to be called away from. I've lost many, killed many, yet he remains unsympathetic to my situation but expects me to be actively involved to the point of ridiculousness in his and his abomination brother's plight. My forces are dwindling and I'm losing. I keep being called here and those in my garrison don't understand why. He is no longer my charge, they say, and they are right. I don't understand why I can't seem to let this… effect that Dean Winchester has on me die. It's becoming dangerous. It's been proven that I'll kill, even my own kind, to protect him and his mission. Uriel was example enough of that. I literally tempted fate for him, yet no gratitude, not even simple kindness, has been shown to me. To him, I am an angelic pet, a servant only to be called when useful. His allegiance is pledged to Sam, not me, not even after what Sam has done to him. Quite honestly, the relationship between the two has caused me to feel a sensation previously unknown to me- Jealousy. It hurts me to know that in the end he will always choose Sam, no matter how much I give, no matter how many times I bleed for him. It will always be Sam. When I'm near them the pain becomes insurmountable. I worry when he is gone, grieve when he is in pain, yet and still, nothing I do, nothing I say to him, will ever matter. The 'Jefferson Starship' crisis with the child could have been averted and the innocent brother and uncle would not have had to die. If only he would have listened to me and avoided projection for once. I'm drained, tapped out. There's so much loss, so much death and destruction, I feel myself changing and not for the better. Rachel was the final straw. She was right, I can't run to him every time he calls anymore, the time for that has ended...
"Hey Cas, can I talk to you for a sec?" Dean walks in the sigil-ed, demon proof room of Bobby's basement, to find the usually stoic Cas on the bed, appearing to be in deep thought "I'm not interrupting anything, am I ?" he steps closer, sitting next to Cas on the bed that once held his brother while he was on demon blood detox. "No, why do you ask?" Castiel, not accustomed to Dean being concerned about his preoccupations, asks incredulously. "Because, you have that constipated look you get when you're thinking really hard about something." Dean is nervous, he knows, he only jokes when he is.
Castiel sighs, "It is not of import Dean, what did you need?" The bite in his voice
unable to be ignored. "Look man, you know I don't do chick flick moments, but I just wanted to tell you that we- I appreciate what you do for us and I appreciate, well… you. I know I can't possibly understand the things that are going on between you and your family but the fact that you're one of the few that still gives a crap about us little people, it's gives me hope, you know? That maybe if somebody upstairs still cares about us, that maybe things can actually get better. So thanks man, really."
It's not enough, Dean knows, but maybe he'll stay, maybe Castiel will keep coming back when he calls. He's gradually become on of the few stable things in Dean's life. He is Dean's one true friend. If Sam fails him, which regrettably he is want to do, he can always count on Cas, loyal, faithful, unfaltering Cas. "Thank you Dean"
He says, and disappears.
