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When they had met by the diner, Dean had been so damn happy just being able to see Cas he hadn't acknowledged just how much had changed since they last met. How much had changed between them.
Unlike their encounter in Purgatory, when Dean had drawn Castiel into a grateful embrace, they had stood some distance apart on the corner. Just…staring at each other. Like it had been the first time they met. It wasn't the fact Cas looked like he hadn't gotten a decent night's sleep in days that shook him. It was the absence of the trench coat that solidified everything.
There was a little nod, and Cas said, very quietly, "Hello, Dean."
And then he had gone silent.
They shared a sombre meal, their first since Cas had become human. Eating for him wasn't the indulgent joy Jimmy Novak expressed. Cas ate with slow, almost apprehensive movements, as if he still didn't understand why he needed to do this. Dean also couldn't help but notice the way Cas's hands shook every time he picked up his sandwich, the quick, anxious glances at the other patrons. He knew what running scared looked like, and Cas was the picture of it. It just reinforced Dean's want to bring Cas back home. He couldn't stand the thought of his friend sleeping on the streets and eating whatever scraps he could find.
He had thought Cas would welcome the chance to return to the bunker; Sam had told him Cas liked how orderly it was. Right now, Dean thought Cas could do for a little order, what with everything being turned upside down now. But Cas hadn't said anything when Dean invited him back. He kept his gaze fixed on his plate. Dean didn't press the issue. Not yet.
After grabbing a six pack to go, they retreated to the car. Dean kept it running so Cas wouldn't be cold. He spent some moments with his hands in front of the vents. The way he rubbed them together, slowly, almost methodically, was oddly mesmerizing. Dean could only assume it was because he'd never seen Cas demonstrate an understanding of what being cold was.
The silence lingered. Dean made with some make small talk- all of it pointless commentary as he tried to look for right thing to say. Something told him Cas was working his way around to a subject he knew Dean wouldn't like. Still Dean kept rambling. He'd wait him out. It was all he could do.
He watched Cas watch the scenery, head tilted, hands resting on his lap. The beer he had given him leaned against his arm, unopened. Sometimes Cas would suddenly inhale, blink in mild confusion. Other times he'd glance Dean's way, but just as it looked like he was ready to talk, he averted his gaze.
Still Dean waited.
It was near dark when Cas finally opened the beer. By then Dean had finished off three, and was working on the fourth. All the years chugging booze kept him from physically feeling its effects. Emotionally, however, was another story. The silence let his thoughts drift to all the times of uncertainty they shared this past year: Purgatory, Naomi's manipulations, ignoring Dean's prayers after he took off with the Angel Tablet. Metatron. It was why they kept each other at arm's length when, truthfully, Dean just things to be good between them again. Cas wasn't making it easy, as usual. But still Dean waited. The faith in Cas's ability to return to him was unshakeable.
Cas finished one beer and reached for a second. Dean's brow lifted at seeing Cas twist the cap off the exact way he always did. And then, halfway through it, Cas turned to look Dean straight in the eye. Dean drew in a little intake of breath at the overwhelming despair in Cas's eyes. The regret.
"I can't come back with you, Dean."
Dean hid the pain of the rejection behind a little smile. He should have expected Cas to break this long silence with the exact opposite of what he wanted. "Why?"
"I don't want to endanger you and Sam. My brothers and sisters are looking for me even now."
Dean dismissed the other angels with a wave. "Screw them," he declared. "From what you told me, you took care of them no problem, clipped wings and all."
Cas's wince made Dean instantly regret what he said. "They have every right to be angry," Cas said softly. "What happened to them is my fault."
"No, it's not," Dean told him firmly. "Metatron's the bad guy, remember?"
A spark of anger flashed, briefly, in Cas's eyes. "I trusted him, Dean. I let him convince me I could fix things. And all I did was make it worse."
"Metatron used you, Cas," Dean snapped. He turned to face him on the seat; his hand was on Cas's shoulder before he could think to retract it. "You're innocent!"
"Am I?" Cas challenged quietly. "Look at all I've done, Dean. I deserve their spite. And yours."
This took Dean by surprise. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Cas sighed–another very human reaction– and leaned away from Dean. His hand slid from its place on the former angel's shoulder to rest between them on the seats. "I've had a lot of time to think about, well, about everything. I accept my brothers and sisters wanting to kill me for what I did. I think I might even be all right with it. But you?" His voice broke a little. "I lied to you, and to Sam. I turned on you. And– and I even hurt you," he said, and there was a world of regret in the admission. He went to say something else, shook his head and turned away, but not before Dean glimpsed the tears in his eyes.
"Hey," Dean said, reaching for Cas's shoulder. "That was Naomi, not you. You broke free from her control!"
"That doesn't matter," Cas snapped, halting Dean's movement. "I've tried thinking of ways to make it up to you. I don't think I can. I also can't be of any help to you. I wanted to meet tonight to–to say goodbye."
The word struck Dean like a physical blow. His hand had frozen between them. "What?"
Regret sank into Cas's eyes. "I know the angels will use you to get to me. I can't let that happen. I'm sorry, Dean," he insisted when Dean shook his head. A wisp of a smile curved Cas's lips. "Thank you, for everything. Goodbye."
He turned to open the door. Dean stared at the back of Cas's head for all of two seconds when he kicked open his own door and exited. He rounded the car, approached Cas and seized him by the shoulders. Surprise flickered in Cas's eyes, but he didn't get a chance to speak. Emotion fueled Dean's words.
"Now you listen to me, you son of a bitch," he began in a partial growl. Folds of Cas's jacket were clenched between his fingers. Cas stared at him, slightly wide-eyed. "I'm sick of all the self-sacrificial bullshit that follows us around. I'm not letting you go this time, do you get me? Remember when I said I'd rather have you, cursed or not? I meant it, Cas–every word of it! We don't need you around because you're useful. I want you here. I need you here, and I need you to get that through your head!"
Dean's words echoed into the distance. He had Cas pressed against the Impala, his jacket still clutched in his hands. Cas continued to gaze at Dean in that thoughtful way of his, head tilted, brow slightly furrowed. His throat flashed as he swallowed. Dean waited for a response, anything to let him know that maybe this time, Cas knew what he meant.
With a sigh, he released him and stepped back. "Please," Dean murmured. He heard the tremble in his voice, felt it in his hands, his legs, his chest. His heart beat so hard and so fast it hurt. "You wanna save the angels or find yourself or whatever, fine. I can live with that. You know me and Sam got your back. But don't leave. I've lost too much already. I can't lose you again."
Cas remained still for some long moments. Then, with a hesitance unknown in Dean's experience of him, the former angel reached for Dean's shoulder. It was obvious he was having difficulty speaking. Dean didn't miss the way his eyes glistened, either.
"Do you truly feel that way?" Cas asked, very softly.
Despite himself and the situation, Dean gave a short laugh. "Would it help if I said it in Enochian?"
"You would need time to learn the language and I don't think we have enough words for–"
"Cas, shut up," Dean interrupted, feeling his smile grow wider as Cas subsided. "And yes, that's how I feel. I've always felt like that."
Cas nodded, as if confirming some inner thought and closed the distance between them. There was a flash of blue in Dean's peripheral before the warm pressure of an arm slid around his shoulders. By the time Dean realized Cas was hugging him, he had already completed the embrace. Warmth spread throughout him, as surprising as it was welcome. It also had a secondary affect, one he wasn't expecting: he felt whole. Complete. He smiled ruefully. He was starting to get real sappy.
When he drew back to meet Cas's gaze, Dean was momentarily taken aback by the smile on Cas's face. "Must have said something good to make you smile like that," he mused as he clapped the other man on the shoulder.
Cas nodded. "I had thought you'd want me to go."
"Yeah, well, you've been wrong about things like that in the past," Dean replied, turning so he was leaning on the car beside Cas, but he still kept an arm about his shoulders. "So, is there something else you'd like to do? I told Sam I'd be gone at least until tomorrow."
Cas appeared to consider this. "Yes." He looked over at Dean and smiled again. "I would like to spend more time with you. If that's all right."
Dean smiled. He couldn't think of a better way to spend an evening. "Hell yeah, it's all right. I know just the place we can go," he said as he stepped away from the car and opened the door. As Cas slid into the seat Dean added, "But you're gonna shower first. Can't have you going anywhere smelling like you sleep under a bridge."
"It's where I have been sleeping," Cas informed him, and Dean gave a little smirk before closing the door.
He had just turned the ignition when Cas said his name. Dean turned to meet his gaze, felt a smile touch his lips at seeing the genuine happiness, the affection, reflected in Cas's eyes.
"Thank you for not giving up on me, Dean. This is something I want to keep."
The emotion lacing those words moved Dean more than he was expecting. Unable to respond, for his throat had tightened, he smiled again, nodded and put the car into gear.
It was true, everything had changed. Everything had stayed the same, too. And Dean wouldn't want it any other way.