The next morning was spent in relative silence, the three concentrating on research, as they knew they had left behind more monsters in Arizona. Afrits were a rare breed and even the Men of Letters had little to say on the subject. By lunch time they had read countless files and books and had found nothing, which only made Dean restless.
"Remind me again why Cas can't just zap in there and take out the whole lot of them?" said Dean, closing yet another book and throwing it on the pile. Sam winced at the loud noise then sighed, lowering his own book.
"A - because we don't know where they are, B - because we don't know how many there are, and C - for all we know, they might be more powerful than Cas," said Sam, for the third time.
"I killed one in my sleep!" said Dean.
"You didn't kill it," said Cas from the doorway. He carried a plate in each hand, both of which bore rather lop-sided BLTs. He placed one each in front of Sam and Dean, then resumed his place in the armchair. Dean grabbed his sandwich immediately, whereas Sam muttered his thanks but left it alone.
"What do you mean I didn't I kill it?" said Dean, mouth full."I stabbed it through the heart!"
"Yes, inside your dream," replied Cas. "You simply expelled that afrit's presence from your mind and sent it back to its body. You didn't know that?"
"No, Cas, I didn't. Anything else you've been keeping to yourself?" said Dean.
"No.." said Cas. He glanced at Sam, then down and away. He tried to look nonchalant but it was more than enough to make Dean suspicious. Dean put down his sandwich and looked between the two of them expectantly.
"Listen, Dean, don't fly off the handle, okay?" said Sam, raising a placating hand. He looked tired.
"Oh, I'm not gonna like this, I can tell," said Dean, shaking his head. "What happened?"
"You remember the spell we had to do to find you?" said Cas slowly. "Well, it needed a sort of, what you might call a power source…"
"We tried to find something else, but we were kind of in a pinch," said Sam.
Dean didn't say anything, he simply waited, lips drawn in a thin line. Sam and Cas looked at each other nervously. There was tense silence.
"We extracted my Grace," said Cas, eventually. "Not all of it!" he added hastily, as Dean rounded on him, "but enough to weaken me."
"Will it… grow back?" said Dean, visibly restraining himself. His glare made Cas uncomfortable.
"I don't know."
"You don't know?" said Dean, and now he was beginning to lose it. He stood up, towering over Cas where he sat in the armchair. "You could have gotten yourself killed!"
"Well, I didn't get killed. And it worked. You should be thanking me!" replied Cas angrily. He stood up himself so that now he and Dean were mere inches apart.
"Thanking you? I'm not gonna thank you for being so stupid!" shouted Dean."Who knows what that could have done to you, what it could still do to you? You don't take those kinds of risks, Cas!"
"Oh, and I suppose you've never done anything risky, have you Dean?" said Cas, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You've never used blood in a spell, or, y'know, faced down Satan himself, have you, Dean? Or is that somehow okay for you to do, but not for me?"
"No! It's not okay for you to do! Not ever!" said Dean. He was breathing heavily.
"Why? What makes it different for me?" demanded Cas. He was close enough to Dean to count the freckles that dappled his cheeks.
"Because- Well, because I-" Dean stuttered. Cas' eyes bored into him. He suddenly became aware of how close he was to the angel and his mind froze. He didn't know what to say.
There was a small part of him that knew exactly what he wanted to say and was screaming it as loud as it could, but Dean was too used to pushing it away. Instead he broke eye contact and shuffled back on one foot, so that there was a little breathing room between them.
"I can't have anyone else get hurt because of me," he said eventually. He said it quietly, the fire having gone out of him. "Especially not you. I just can't. So do me a favour and stop being reckless on my account. I'm not worth it."
With that Dean left the room, pausing only to pick up what was left of his sandwich. Cas watched him go, face carefully impassive. He would have stood there a lot longer had Sam not coughed awkwardly.
"I told you he wouldn't be happy about it," said Sam gently.
"I had to do it, Sam."
"I know. Are you alright?"
"Fine," replied Cas. He tore his eyes away from the door and sat down beside Sam, taking Dean's vacated seat. His voice sounded distant and he was clearly deep in thought.
Sam debated pushing the issue, but it seemed like Cas didn't really want to talk. He was more than happy to sit in silence, so reached for the sandwich Cas had made. He took a large bite, chewed for a moment, then made a face and spat it back onto the plate.
"Ugh!" he said. "Cas, did you- Did you put peanut butter in this?"
"Yes, why? Should I not have?" asked the angel, squinting in confusion.
Sam looked at him in disbelief, then shook his head and laughed.
"Dean ate it," said Cas defensively.
"Yeah, he did… He either loves peanut butter BLTs, or…" replied Sam, letting the sentence trail into a suggestive silence.
"Or what?" asked Cas.
"Nothing," sighed Sam. He went back to his book.