Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of the characters. Just borrowing. (:

Note: This chapter is going to basically be Chapter 2 again, except from the POV of Cas. I wanted to let you guys know because I didn't want you to feel ripped off. I originally intended for this story to be written completely from Dean's POV, and I'm still going to stick with that for the most part. But every time I sat down to think about chapter 3, all I could see was Cas standing there, waving chapter 2 in my face and saying "I have stuff to say too!" So I'm giving in to him (I mean, who wouldn't? He's Castiel, angel of the freaking Lord, holy tax accountant and sexiest angel in the garrison XD).

Happy reading!

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Castiel stood beside a Buick, and out of habit, his eyes scanned his charge. He hadn't seen Dean in a year and it surprised him that it was still instinct to check him over, to make sure he was alright.

After a moment, he had his answer. He stopped searching with his eyes and started searching with his Grace, because it was clear to him that no, Dean was not alright, but his wounds were nowhere near the surface. They ran deep through the human's heart and mind and soul, ugly, infected gashes that oozed pain and anger and guilt. They looked unbearably painful, crippling, and Castiel couldn't understand how Dean could even stand up straight, because it didn't matter that his wounds weren't physical; they were bad. They tore through him raggedly like a dull scissors through cloth, and though Castiel had come to learn that humans were quite resilient creatures, he knew that anyone else would be curled up on the floor by now, rocking back and forth like a child throwing a tantrum.

But not Dean. Dean had always been strong, always been able to take hit after hit after heart breaking hit and still keep fighting. Castiel had known that from the moment he walked into that barn to meet him.

And yet, as Castiel's eyes raked over the hunter once more, he noticed the way Dean's knuckles whitened around the Impala's door handle, the way his shoulders were slightly hunched and his knees were slightly bent. He was breaking. It was a wonder the man had been able to last a year.

"You're back." It was such an inconsequential thing for Dean to say, considering how badly he was hurting. Castiel would have understood better if Dean had broke down crying, maybe thrown a few punches, maybe even begged him to fix this, to go find Sam, now. But then again, Dean always had a habit of surprising Castiel. The corner of his mouth twitched into what could only be called a small smirk because the hunter's attempt at nonchalance was just so unexpected.

"Yes," There was nothing else to say about the matter.

A silence descended upon the pair as they stood in the junk yard. Castiel didn't mind. Silence didn't bother him the way it seemed to bother Dean, who was rubbing at the back of his neck, so obviously trying to think of something to say. Castiel thought it might have something to do with the way Dean's face was turned a little, his cheeks marked with tear stains.

"How's it going upstairs?" Dean finally asked.

"Slow," Castiel answered with a frown. Dean was skirting around the issue with small talk, and after such a desperate prayer, Castiel couldn't help but wonder why. "The angels are wary of me. They do not trust me, nor should they. I killed many of my brothers and sisters during my stay on earth. But Raphael has returned. He has been helpful."

Castiel heard Dean scoff and his eyes flicked back to examine watery green. "Raphael? The douche that blew you up? You left him in a burning ring of holy oil. You called him your little bitch.You sure he's not pulling another one over on you, Cas?"

Castiel gave a small shrug. Honestly, he didn't understand it either. Just as the other angels were wary of Castiel, Castiel was wary of Raphael. He wanted to believe that the archangel was on his side now, but it was difficult to trust him after everything. And yet… "He has been helpful." He had. And that was all there was to it, at least for now.

More silence. A faint wind whipped stirred the leaves on the trees and crickets chirped quietly, somewhere in the distance. Their breathing seemed too loud.

Castiel's eyes bore into Dean's and he began to wonder if Dean would ever get to the point, if he would ever really ask for the help he needed. He knew he could be the one to bring it up, and if Dean really refused to ask, he would. The two years he'd spent with Dean before his return to Heaven had taught him a thing or two about humans, and in particular, this human – his human. Castiel had learned that humans, especially Dean, were prideful creatures. To ask for help was an embarrassment, a show of weakness that Dean rarely felt the need to expose. And though he'd prayed loud and clear for someone to help him, Castiel knew that Dean had not truly expected an answer. Now that one was staring the human in the face, he didn't know how to ask again. Castiel stared at him, almost through him, and he waited. Whether Dean asked for his help or not, it would be given freely.

Dean cleared his throat. "I see you got Jimmy back. He consent to that again?" Castiel stopped a sigh from escaping his lips. Dean was still avoiding the issue with more small talk, more 'beating around the bush'. Castiel smiled faintly, so faintly that Dean didn't catch it. Dean had explained the meaning of that particular term to him almost two years ago when AC/DC's 'Beating around the Bush' had come on the radio. Insignificant as it may be, it was yet another thing that Dean had taught him during his stay on earth. It was tucked away in his mind along with all the other human lessons that Dean had given him.

Castiel tilted his head and continued to stare until he decided to just go with it. "Jimmy is no longer here, Dean. He was killed when I was. His soul is at peace." Castiel looked down at his vessel with vague fondness, tracing the cuffs of his sturdy trench coat as if he'd kind of missed it while he was away. Yes, it was old and a little tattered and not exactly flattering, but it was familiar. Like Dean. And more importantly, to Dean. For some reason, it was important to Castiel that the hunter recognize him. "I have become accustomed to this body," he said, a faint smile on his face. "I kept it safe while I was in Heaven."

Castiel could see Dean turning that over in his mind, considering it, but he could also see him dismiss it soon after. It was the look on his face that told Castiel that the time for catching up was over.

"Why are you here, Cas?"

And that was not what Castiel had expected at all. He thought Dean would get right to the point, ask him if he was going to help and how. But why had he come? Castiel tilted his head and stared. He had thought it would be quite obvious.

"Because you called." And that was the simple truth, as it had been for most of their… what? Partnership? Friendship? Neither seemed right, but it didn't matter. What did matter was that, with only a few exceptions, Castiel always came when Dean called, and he didn't understand why Dean would expect any different now.

Castiel could see Dean's uncertainty in his eyes. "I didn't call you," he said, and his voice was bordering on defiant. Castiel knew it was for pride's sake. Another example of the human fear of showing weakness.

"You didn't have to." This was also true. Whether Dean called for him specifically or not, he couldn't find a reason to care. Dean needed help, Castiel could give it. Who was he to deny his assistance when it was truly needed?

Dean's shoulders drooped. "Cas, you don't need to help me. Hell, you've helped me enough, you know?"

Castiel was about to answer when he saw something in Dean's eyes that made him look closer. He couldn't read the hunter's exact thoughts; they weren't spelled out for him, weren't clear like a voice inside his head. But he could feel them and the emotion that lay behind them. There was bitterness first, a weak cover up for what was underneath. Abandonment.

And that's when it hit him. He had left Dean, his charge, his friend, just hours after he'd lost the most important person in his life. Dean had a right to be bitter.

"I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean took a step back, as if trying to break the mental connection, and shrugged it off. "Whatever. Go back to Heaven, Cas. You gave up enough for us last time." It sounded an awful lot like a dismissal, but Castiel ignored that.

"You wish to bring Sam back, do you not?"

He watched as Dean stiffened. It was an offer he couldn't refuse and Castiel knew it.

Dean's voice was hoarse when he answered. "You know I do." And Castiel just knew how much he meant it. How much he needed his brother back.

"Then I will stay."

And then, unexpectedly, Dean's features became hard, almost angry. His fists clenched. Cas watched him closely, unsure of what had upset him. "Does that mean you know how to save Sam?" he growled.

Oh.

Castiel kept his face blank. "Yes."

And Dean really was angry then. Castiel could see it bubbling up inside of him. He could see the hunter's half-hearted attempts to restrain himself. "You knew how to save Sam and you just left? You didn't even tell me? Not even a nudge in the right direction, you just left, without even a hint. I left him rotting down there for a year, Cas, and you knew how to save him!" Dean was yelling in the angel's face now, but Castiel didn't flinch.

"One year ago, Dean, do you remember what I said?"

Dean nodded, but the movement was short and forced. In an effort to calm him down, Castiel reminded him.

"I told you that you got what you wanted. No Heaven, no Hell. Just more of the same. I meant what I said, but now I realize, Dean: you can't be the same. Not without your brother. Nothing is the same without Sam."

Castiel's expression softened when Dean's did. The hunter looked tired, his eyelids drooping along with his shoulders. He obviously needed rest. Castiel would not keep him much longer. "Either way, I could not have saved him then. I did not have the resources."

"Resources? What resources?" Dean's brow was furrowed in confusion.

"An army," Castiel answered, and almost smiled when Dean widened his eyes, fatigue temporarily fleeing his face.

"An army?"

Castiel nodded. "A small army, but an army nonetheless."

"Dude, what are you gonna do?"

The question made Castiel tilt his head again. Did Dean really not understand? Or did he simply think that Castiel wouldn't be willing to go that far for him, not again? He sighed. "I will do exactly what I did to raise you from perdition, Dean. And I will bring Sam back." It was a promise Castiel didn't intend to break.

Castiel needed time to prepare, and Dean needed to rest those tired green eyes of his. With a parting nod, the angel disappeared, a gust of cool wind taking his place.

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Like it? Hate it? Feel ripped off because it was basically the same as the last chapter? Or do you like Cas POV? Let me know in a review. They always make my day, every single time I get one.

Hope you enjoyed.

- Nix (: