Hey everyone! Thanks so much for the follows and favorites. I really appreciate it! So I decided to turn this into a oneshot/drabble series. This chapter is the oneshot that started it all - I imagined this scene and was inspired to finally try my hand at Supernatural fanfiction. This one is primarily a character study with a look at some of the infamous Winchester psyche issues. I'm not really sure how it turned out, so please let me know what you thought!


"I want you to yell at me," Dean says to Castiel one day – night – whatever – in Purgatory. They're in one of the surprisingly long stretches of time in between ganking one monster and running into another. When Dean first woke up in Purgatory, he'd thought it'd be nonstop hunting (and being hunted) until he finally didn't duck in time or slept for too long and the monsters got to him. He wasn't entirely wrong – there's certainly a lot of hunting and running and fighting. But there are also nearly unbearable hours or days or weeks where all they do is walk through a forest. Dean is getting really sick of forests. If he gets out of Purgatory he's never going to visit a forest again. He'll join an anti-environmental protection group and help cut down trees or something. Oh, and speaking of things he's getting tired of - he's pretty sick of this new, crazy version of Castiel. Hence his latest conversation topic.

Cas stares at Dean blankly, his blue eyes wide. "Sorry?"

"Yell at me," Dean repeats.

"I don't understand," Cas says slowly, and for a moment he sounds just like his old self, back before the civil war and the betrayal and the souls and breaking Sam's wall and losing his memory and taking on Sam's madness and - man, they have been through way too much shit. "I am not angry with you, Dean."

"Exactly," Dean responds. "You're never angry. You have a shitload of reasons to be – you're stuck in Purgatory, I'm annoying, there are no bees here, whatever – but you're never angry. That can't be healthy. So, yell at me. It'll help you blow off some steam, trust me."

Castiel frowns, a small furrow appearing in his brow. "It's you who should be yelling at me, Dean. You've much more reason to have a quarrel with me."

Cas's voice is unusually serious. (Well, he used to only have one tone of voice and it was Serious, but since he went crazy his new tone is usually Rambling Hippy Pacifist). When he looks at Dean, his eyes are focused and - remorseful?

"The things I did -"

"We've been over this, Cas," Dean interrupts. "I know you're sorry. So quit sayin' it."

I'm just not sure that you know what sorry means, Dean thinks. I don't know if angels are capable of regret, or if crazy people can ever really understand what they've done or how they feel. And I don't know if I can forgive you, and I don't know if I can forgive myself for letting things get this bad.

Man, Purgatory gives him too much time to think, and not enough beer to drink. Dean doesn't know how to deal with all this.

"Sorry," Cas says again. His eyes widen as he realizes what he just said, and he opens his mouth to speak, but Dean cuts in first.

"Don't say sorry for saying sorry. That is so lame."

Castiel shuts his mouth and nods meekly. They walk in silence for a while, Cas glancing fearfully at Dean every now and then, as if Dean was being unreasonable and Cas is worried Dean's gonna start bitching about something else. Personally, Dean thinks he has every right to be unreasonable. He's stuck in freakin' Purgatory. They all need their coping mechanisms. Castiel rambles about bees, and Dean, since they have no alcohol here, apparently lashes out at Cas. Which brings Dean back to his original thought.

"I don't care who has more right to yell at who," Dean says. "We've all wronged each other at some point, man. I just think you should yell at me. You'll feel better, really."

Cas tilts his head a little, studying Dean carefully. Nowadays, Cas doesn't maintain eye contact as long as he used to (which, by the way, was ridiculously long), but this stare has Dean struggling not to look away. Angel staring matches can be exhausting, probably because they're literally staring into your soul. Which is why Dean isn't really that surprised when Castiel says, slightly perplexed, "You think you deserved to be yelled at."

Dean shrugs, not trying to deny it. He remembers a different day, a different situation, but similar words, said in that same, dumbfounded tone. You don't think you deserve to be saved.

He thinks of everything Castiel has done for him, from raising him from Hell and rebelling against Heaven to dying for him multiple times and saving his life on countless occasions. Yes, Cas betrayed him and hurt Sam and Dean may never fully forgive him for that, but Dean knows it's not all on Cas. Maybe if Dean had tried harder, helped more, been more understanding, more appreciative... Castiel has done so much for all of them, and now he's a broken mess. It just seems wrong, and maybe if Cas finally got mad it would be right again. Cas would be right again.

"We've all wronged each other at some point," Dean repeats.

Cas shakes his head. "If that is true, then shouldn't we - I believe the expression is... let bygones be bygones? I am not going to yell at you, Dean. I'm not angry with you. And you should not be angry with yourself. I suggest you practice meditation instead. Peace, harmony, and communication will make everything better."

"Uh huh," Dean says. "If that hippy crap works for you. But seriously, dude, no one's that zen. You've gotta be bottling it all up inside. You can't never be mad. That's impossible."

"I think I was angry when we fought Dick," Cas says.

There's an uncertainty to his voice that Dean isn't used to hearing, even after all this time spent wandering Purgatory with this new version of Cas. Before, Castiel had always been so sure of himself. Now, he's convinced that any action on his part will result in certain doom.

"Yeah, but you're not angry now."

"No," Cas agrees placidly. "I don't think anger is very conductive to improving one's mood. Gardenias, on the other hand –"

"For God's sake," Dean finally snaps, his voice rising. "Stop rambling for once and just yell at me."

Dean's tone is, admittedly, a bit harsh. But Castiel is making him lose his patience, and he never had much of that to begin with, especially after far too long in Purgatory (which, by the way, was seemingly created purely to try Dean's patience).

Cas flinches, his head dropping down to stare at his feet, still clad in those ridiculous hospital slippers. Dean's once again amazed at how this thousand-year-old being can look just like a chastised child in these circumstances. It seems to be mocking all of the times Dean called Cas a child, back when they were still friends and Cas was sane.

"But I don't wanna fight," Cas says in a small voice, and Dean feels like a dick.

"I know you don't," he sighs. "Forget it."

They walk in strained silence. Dean takes the opportunity to reevaluate his options. Clearly he won't be able to atone for his past misdeeds by facing Castiel's wrath. For a moment Dean longs for a monster to attack just so he can channel all of his negative energy into that. Hell, maybe he should even consider meditation. (Yeah, right.) But then he thinks of a more productive (and probably healthier) solution.

"I'm sorry, Cas," Dean says, the words feeling weird but good on his tongue. "Go ahead, tell me more about the gar-whatevers."

Cas glances up at Dean tentatively, his face brightening as he recognizes Dean's sincerity.

"Gardenias," he corrects. "They're a flowering plant of the order Gentianales, indigenous to Africa, Asia, and Oceania, and of course Joshua's lovely garden in Heaven..."

Cas keeps talking, but Dean stops listening at that point. Cas is bright-eyed and rambling and cheerful. Dean's done his job.

They keep walking.