Dean is surprised to see Castiel leaning against the Impala.

"Cas?" He asks, unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice. Can't anyone see that he just wanted to be left the hell alone? Just for once?

Castiel's eyes flicker up to his and away, but Dean is able to catch the faint glint of wetness there before he turns his head. With a small huff, Dean leans against the car next to the angel.

"Cas." His voice is calm this time, because that's what Dean does: pulls himself together, shoves his problems to the side, puts others' needs before his own. "Cas?"

Castiel doesn't answer, just tilts his head up to look at the stars scattered faintly through the sky. He doesn't seem to notice when some of that wetness falls down his cheek to cling to the edge of his jaw. But Dean does notice. And all he can do is wish that Joshua had never told them just how much of a douche bag God really is. Because this… seeing Castiel hurt like this, makes Dean feel lost. So he looks away from him, turns so that he doesn't have to see the angels' tears.

Dean doesn't know how long they stay there, leaning against the hood of the Impala. Seconds, minutes… hours? But after a while, Dean feels something warm close around his hand.

He doesn't look, doesn't question, doesn't pull away. He just squeezes his eyes shut, bottling up the emotions threatening to get loose, and grips Castiel's hand tight.