Casitel had never been rebellious. He had followed orders to the letter, without suspecting any bad intentions. He trusted his superiors.
And then he met Dean.
Dean had convinced him to deny "those bullshit orders", and though it had felt strange at first, Castiel had conceded. His eyes opened, Dean would say, and he saw just how corrupted the hierarchy of Heaven truly was. He tried to fix it through less than savory methods. But was what he did really that bad?
Dean had berated him for working with Crowley, and Castiel wanted to scream about how hypocritical he was being. All the Winchesters did was work with demons, be it making deals or squeezing them for information, and it seemed unfair that he wasn't able to do the same. His intentions were good. Wasn't that all that mattered? He stuggled to remember a human saying Sam had told him once; he thought it was something along the lines of only the thought mattering.
But it had all gotten out of hand. The souls he absorbed turned him into a power hungry monster; he practically became one of the things his friends hunted. In fact, they had tried to hunt him. He let the leviathans escape. He let everything he cared about disintigrate before his eyes and he hadn't even cared. And when that leviathan took over his vessel and left him homeless, Heaven had recognized his efforts and welcomed him back into their ranks, on one distressing condition. He could not reveal himself to the Winchesters. No contact, no subtle messages, and if they so much as suspected he was alive, he would be killed.
So there he stood, staring at the emerald-eyed hunter, trying to extirpate all the emotions that coursed through him. There he stood, trying to forget the tears that rolled down Dean's face even as more appeared.
A thought ran across his mind for a second, but he quickly shrugged it off. He was grateful for the second chance he got, and at least this way he could check on the Winchesters, so it was worth it. Right?
Castiel had never doubted himself more than in this moment.
"Dean, where are you?" he asked the device, stopping for a breif second to wonder how it worked. Dean's voice quickly gave him an address, and he was there before the phone hung up, but this time he remembered to put it away before greeting the brothers.
They were at a restaurant of sorts, though he wasn't sure what kind. It looked extremely...dirty, and there were angry looking men and girls in skimpy outfits everywhere. Dean must've noticed his confusion, because he piped up from behind Castiel. "It's a bar, Cas."
He turned and there they were, seated at a booth in the corner. Dean was stuffing his face with a burger. After the incident with Famine, the angel was a bit apprehensive around meat, in fear that he might lose control again. It was a silly thought, but it still kept him from stepping closer to the table.
It was as if Dean could read his thoughts once again, and he gestured to the unoccupied space next to him on the booth vinyl. For a moment, Castiel hesitated, trying to look for help in Sam. The younger Winchester avoided his gaze with a stifled smile. "It's better if you don't fight it," he advised him. As much as Castiel opposed sitting in a place that so blatantly disregarded the notion of hygiene, their presence broght him some comfort. He plopped on the seat.
"Yeah!" Dean chuckled victoriously, and Sam shook his head. "Welcome to the dark side."
"I'm afraid I don't understand that reference."
Dean simply shrugged it off, placing his half-eaten burger in front of Castiel. "Eat up," he said. "Don't wait 'till it gets cold. Trust me, it's better fresh."
Castiel would have given anything to see that smile again in that moment, instead of these tears that only confused him and made his head hurt. A real smile that reached his eyes, not the fake one he'd been putting on so often these last few months.
He just wanted Dean to be happy.
