When family fucks up, you get pissy at them. You punch them, you beat them down, and you leave them. You yell and tear and throw everything their way. But you know you've forgiven them. You know that nothing they could do could ever make you turn away for good. There's some goddamn bond that holds you down, that makes you care. It's not really love, and it's not blood. God knows there were days when Dean hated Sam or his dad. And God knows even better that Bobby was more than family without having a drop of Winchester in him. Dean didn't really know what it was, but he sure as hell knew he wished it didn't exist. It would be so much easier to walk away and feel nothing.
But it would be just his luck to let a goddamn angel in his family. Dicks with wings, he used to call them. And that's all they were. And that's how they should have stayed. But no. Cas had to fucking rebel for Dean. He had to fucking care and give goddamn everything. And then he had to fall - in Dean's name, of course - to "protect" him. He had to die, come back, forget everything, remember, and take the train to Satanville all for fucking Dean.
And now there Cas was, quietly sitting at a table by himself. And Dean couldn't punch him, beat him down, or leave him. He couldn't yell or tear or throw everything his way. He had forgiven Castiel, but he couldn't face the Cas that was here. And goddamn, Cas even smelled different. And goddamn, what happened to him never changing? Dean wanted to pounce on him and claw until Castiel, angel of the Lord, soldier of God, finally came back. Dean wanted to shake him and throw him down until Castiel got mad enough to hurt him back, instead of rambling about some goddamn bees. He wanted to scratch and scream at everything until things were alright again, or at least back to their customary level of fucked up.
But he couldn't. All he could do was look up for some shred of courage to sit across the absentminded angel. And looking into those eyes, so familiar but so fucking distant, Dean had to struggle to not fall deeper into the pit of self-loathing and despair that knotted up in the middle of his chest.