Dean stopped walking and turned to face his friend. The winter sun warmed his chilled skin, but he pulled his jacket around him and adjusted his scarf nonetheless. He smiled a little, they were finally away from the noise of the road and into the quiet of the countryside. Taking the bunch of flowers out of his pocket, he knelt on the slightly-damp ground.

"Cas,

"I know I've never told you enough, but thank you. Not just for dragging me out of Hell, but for watching over me and Sam. I know we've asked too much of you, and that all you got in return was falling, rebellion and betrayal."

Dean remembered the first time he met the angel, the barn, the sparks, the wings. The wings which could shield him from danger. The wings which seemed to lose feathers the more the angel helped him. The angel who lost his powers because of Dean.

"I don't understand why you did all of this for us, helping any time we asked, ignoring your duties to come to our aid without question. We were told that angels were incapable of feelings, made to serve God and protect us. Even though some of the angels Sam and I have dealt with have been worse than the demons, and that's saying something. But you're our friend, even if you could be blunt and a little insensitive sometimes, but you were learning.

Though some things certainly need work. Like not yelling at a woman who's just lost her husband, or working with demons, just the simple things."

He laughed, unsure whether Castiel understood, sarcasm was never the angel's strong point. He remembered when the angel appeared dressed as an FBI agent in a trench coat, holding his badge upside down, speaking his mind, explaining how these cases weren't actually accidents, but rather some sort of monster, despite Dean telling him not to.

"Look man, you know you're always welcome. Even with you appearing randomly and your lack of spatial awareness, you should visit any time. Trench coat and all. So long as you promise not to eat all of my burgers. Again. Not sure if I've forgiven you for that yet. Sam said it was good and used it as an excuse to force me to eat his rabbit food. It's torture, I'm telling you. And you're leaving me defenceless, buddy. He's my little brother, it shouldn't be this way around. I'm the eldest, I should be deciding what to eat, and shotgun shuts his cakehole.

"I never did thank you for taking the bullets for us, and I'm sorry we took your powers for granted all too often. But I mean, who wouldn't want to be friends with an angel. And thankfully you're one of the nicer ones. And I think you know why I've never said this aloud before, you know that feelings aren't my forte. Everyone I get close to dies, albeit sometimes more than once, everything I touch gets broken. So I hope you can forgive me for not speaking up sooner."

He shifted nervously, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets to hide the shakes. He steeled himself, green eyes desperately searching for the blue they'd come to love.

"At the end of the day, it was just the three of us who could count on one another. We lost everyone else. I lost everyone else. If I wasn't such a screw up, maybe we'd still have others to help us. I can't help it, I just feel like I have to save everyone, you know? I have to look after you and Sammy, even though both of you deny that I need to worry. But I have no one else."

"Can you ever forgive me, Cas? For thinking that I was doing the right thing? For thinking that I could save everybody, though it's clear when I look back now that it was clearly impossible. I'm sorry for being so blind."

He closed his eyes, speaking the thoughts that had plagued his mind for years, thoughts he would never have dreamed of before. He was scared, not that he'd ever admit that. He was supposed to be the strong one, the Righteous man. But even heroes were allowed to be saved sometimes, weren't they?

"I'm not a good person. I know that, you know that, everyone knows that. I don't understand why you choose to ignore that fact, and refuse to stop looking out for me, answering my prayers. If I had to deal with someone like me, I probably would have given up on them years ago. So why is it that you never gave up on me? I'm not worth it Cas, I don't deserve to have you in my life. I didn't deserve to be dragged out of hell. Just answer me this one last thing, please. Why? Why did you do it? Why did you help us?"

He placed the flowers on the ground and stood up slowly, as though he was trying to waste as much time as possible. He wanted to stay with Cas as long as he was allowed.

"I don't hate you. I could never hate you. Not even with all of the angel, demon and apocalypse crap we've dealt with, and God knows what else. But if I should hate you anything, it should be this.

"I'm sorry for not believing in you, and for thinking that we could take on those demons without an escape plan. Dammit Cas, you son of a bitch. Why did you save me? Why couldn't you just stay away and keep out of danger, we were going to find a way to deal with them. Why couldn't you see they had angel blades?"

He felt a hand on his shoulder, Sam. "Dean," he muttered, "Time to go."

Dean nodded, breathed in sharply and unclenched his fists. He realised he was crying and hurriedly tried to wipe away the wetness on his cheeks. A quick prayer. A hope that the angel would suddenly appear behind him, and this time he would not care about his personal space. Dean just wanted his best friend back. He shuddered, his breath shaky as he turned away from the headstone and followed his brother out of the graveyard towards the Impala.

"See you, Cas."