Sam tossed the keys to the Impala into Dean's lap. Dean jumped and nearly dropped his cup of coffee—laced with a dash or two of whiskey—on his legs. A little sloshed onto his thigh, burning him through his jeans, and he wiped at the stain with disdain.

"What the hell, Sam?" he cursed. He set his drink aside and stood up, staring down at the dark patch of denim. The keys clattered on the floor.

"Another portal just opened," Sam explained quickly. His back was to Dean, reloading his gun and tucking it into the waistband of his jeans.

"So… it's my turn?" Dean asked uncertainly. Sam was preparing his own weapons but giving Dean the keys to drive. It didn't add up.

"We're all going," Sam corrected him.

"All?" Dean repeated in disbelief, "You don't mean—"

"Yes, I mean Castiel too."

"Sam—,"

"We don't have time to argue about this, Dean. It's too risky for one of us to go alone," Sam said and turned around to gesture to his bruised eye and the healing slashes down his cheek.

His last lonesome venture to a portal had brought him face to face with a far too curious and aggressive werewolf trying to leap between worlds. Of course, Sam had killed the monster, but not before getting a good beating first. Since then, Sam had been insisting they needed to revise their plan, but Dean hadn't yet given him the time of day.

"So you and I go," Dean suggested sternly, "Castiel is warded here. He hasn't gone Shawshank on us so far. I think we can risk an hour or two."

"No," Sam said. There was no weakness in his resolve. No room for compromise of any kind.

"You don't think it's more of a risk taking him with us? What's to stop him from turning around and stabbing us in the back and making a run for it?"

"I'm not happy about it either, Dean. But it's the better of two evils."

Sam checked the sharp edge of the demon knife before tucking it into his belt alongside his gun. He looked pointedly at Dean, clearly frustrated that he was still standing there in his wet jeans with the car keys at his feet and a startled expression etched permanently onto his features.

"Go get Castiel," Sam ordered with a heavy sigh and bent down to retrieve the keys. "Meet me at the car."

Dean waited until Sam rounded the corner and disappeared down the hall towards the garage before rubbing his temples firmly with dread. He didn't want to do this. The original plan had been trouble enough: either on the road alone or in the bunker with Castiel—with that ever growing need to be with him the way he never had the chance to with Cas. But this was worse. This was them out on the road together in that confining car, able to see Castiel in the rear-view mirror for as many hours they were driving. There would be no escaping it—him. Dean couldn't distance himself whenever that line between the two angels—the living and the dead—blurred beyond distinction.

But he clearly had no choice in the matter. And he was wasting time by delaying the inevitable. With a sinking feeling in his gut, Dean tread grudgingly down the hallways to Castiel's room and knocked twice. He didn't wait for a response before opening the door and gesturing with his thumb for the angel to follow him. Castiel was sat up in bed atop the blankets, his eyes darting away from the television the moment Dean arrived. Curious, Dean peered at the screen and recognised some cheesy soap opera he admittedly watched on occasion as a guilty pleasure, always changing the channel whenever he heard Sam approaching. His face flushed red as if Castiel somehow knew and he diverted his gaze.

"We're going," he said and cleared his throat awkwardly.

It felt weirdly invasive to be showing up at his door like this. It was as if he had caught Castiel in the act of something truly embarrassing, though there was actually nothing odd about watching TV—even if it was oddly human for the angel. But then again, Cas had become fond of trash television too over time. Dean had seen it happen before.

"Where?" Castiel asked and stood up. His tone was laced with trepidation.

Dean glanced up at him and saw distress glistening in his eyes. Again, he suddenly looked like he had shrunk in on himself, the trench coat becoming three sizes too big in the blink of an eye. Castiel took a noticeable step back towards the wall like he didn't want to leave.

"Another portal opened and Sam thinks its best we all go together this time," Dean explained.

There was a heavy silence between them. Dean didn't know what to do. He doubted he could drag the angel with him—not that he was willing to try even if it were possible. But they couldn't leave Sam waiting either, and there was no telling how long the portal would remain open for.

"Is it…" Castiel's voice trailed off before he tried again. "Is it my portal?"

Dean blinked. Now, he understood. He realised why Castiel suddenly seemed so apprehensive and frozen in place like a deer trapped in headlights. The longer he stayed here on Earth—and in the bunker—the less willing he was to return to his own world. But the reason why still eluded Dean. After all, they had given Castiel no reason to stay. What was there for him here? What was worth being here when his brothers and sisters were suffering back home?

"We don't know," Dean admitted.

Castiel took another hesitant step backward. His eyes darted around the room as if taking it all in for the last time. His fingers grazed the wall tentatively. Something inside Dean broke.

"It probably isn't your portal, Castiel," Dean said gently, "Sam just thinks it's safer for us to go together. You know, because of the beautiful shiner he got the last time."

Castiel frowned and tilted his head slightly.

"The bruised eye," Dean clarified for him.

"Oh," Castiel said and nodded in understanding.

Dean gestured again for the angel to follow and this time Castiel did without argument, though there remained a perceivable tension in his posture and a hesitance in his stride. Dean walked ahead of him to the garage and checked the contents of the trunk, ensuring it was fully stocked with everything they could possibly need. With the uncertainty of these portals and the worlds they led to, Dean believed they were still completely unprepared. Castiel opened the car door with some difficulty and settled himself in the backseat, and Dean closed the door behind him to save him the trouble.

This was the moment he was dreading.

Dean sat down in the driver's seat and started the ignition, purposely avoiding the rear-view mirror as he drove up the driveway and out of the bunker. But he couldn't evade it forever. He couldn't escape the ghost he had been seeing everywhere. He sighed heavily and finally peered up to the mirror. Castiel was gazing out the window, watching as the world flew by. His blue eyes were alight with intrigue and wonderment. And Dean speculated how long it had been since the angel last saw a clear blue sky. How long it had been since he last saw the sun glistening over water and highlighting the greenery of life.

How long had it been since Castiel truly saw the Earth—if he ever really got the chance before it all fell into destruction and chaos?

Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably and his hands tightened on the wheel. He didn't look back at Castiel again for the remainder of the long drive. The three of them sat in complete silence. Sam continuously cast looks between them, urging Dean with his eyes to say something, but Dean refused to give in. What was there to say? This was the first day in a number of weeks that Dean had actually spoken to Castiel since the cassette tapes—which he often heard playing in the late hours of the night whenever he and Sam were supposed to be asleep. In the morning, Dean would enter the library to find everything looking completely untouched. But he suspected that something was amiss. Eventually, Castiel had made a mistake and left a tape in the stereo. Dean had turned it on and listened, trying hard to convince himself that none of this mattered.

Castiel didn't matter.

The tape actually once belonged to his father, but it was mostly Mary's music, and it was as beautiful as she was. It was more to her taste than Dean's of course. But Dean listened to it often. Some nights Sam would be in bed but Dean would be awake and wandering the halls, sleep eluding him until sunrise. And he would put that cassette in and play it real soft. Dean would sit by the speakers, looking foolish there in his pyjamas with his eyes wet with unshed tears.

Like a lost, terrified little boy.

And Cas knew this. Dean had once told him—the night Cas had overheard the gentle melody and followed it to find Dean sitting there with his head in his hands. Cas had been awkward at first, stepping from one foot to the other and hesitating in the doorway. But then he had simply pulled up a chair and sat beside him. And Dean had told him why it mattered. And Cas had understood.

Castiel didn't understand.

Dean could barely focus on the road and his foot was steadily pressing down harder on the accelerator. He knew he was going over the speed limit, but on a long open road like this, he could probably get away with it. Inwardly, he vowed to confiscate that cassette when they got home—Castiel hadn't earned the right to hear it.

"Dean," Sam warned, eyeing the speed dial with apprehension.

Dean eased off the accelerator. Sam let out a faint sigh of relief and visibly relaxed, his long legs loosening and taking up even more of the front seat. Looking again in the rear-view mirror, Castiel seemed totally oblivious to the changing speeds. He was still enthralled by the view from his window rather than the happenings of the front seat. Dean shook his head minutely and tried to remain attentive to the road this time, listening now as Sam began to give directions.

The nearer they got to the portal, the more anxious Dean felt. He actually felt a little sick—dizzy and feverish with a horrible churning inside his gut. What if it was Castiel's portal? Despite all his aversions to the angel and the numerous ways he had tried to evade him, Dean thought that maybe he truly wasn't ready to see him go. Dean didn't feel ready to say goodbye.

Dean had become used to—maybe even dependent—on the ghost he often saw in Castiel. He always claimed an unyielding hatred for Castiel and everything he represented… but, deep down, Dean needed him.

"There, up ahead," Sam said and successfully interrupted Dean's train of thought.

Dean slowed down as the neared the glowing light of the open portal. He pulled up to a stop a safe distance away and got out, peering at the burning crack in time and space over the roof of the car. Even from here he could tell it was already closing. By now he recognised the way the light dimmed and the tear thinned at the ends, steadily shrinking in on itself. He knew they didn't have much time to investigate. If it was apocalypseland, they may not have adequate time to find Mary. But they would be left with no other choice than to free Castiel—knowing the chance might never present itself again.

There would not be enough time for goodbyes. Dean still hadn't decided what he would say when the time came. No words seemed enough. There wasn't a way in which he could encapsulate the life he had shared with Cas in a single sentence. It was his one chance to say everything Cas never got to hear—everything Dean now desperately wished he could tell him. But now that the moment threatened to appear, everything had been swept away from him. He was speechless. Dean brought his clenched fist to his lips. They were bone dry, just like his tongue, and his fingers felt cold as if all the life had drained from them. He felt physically sick. He feared he actually would be sick if he were to move even a single step. But then Castiel instinctively stood at his side, looming far too close the same way Cas often did. Dean was aware of his presence before he saw him in his peripheral vision, and somehow it helped—knowing he had an angel watching over him still. Dean lowered his hand and unclenched his fist. Sam gestured for the two of them to follow. Castiel remained close to Dean's side as they all neared the portal.

"Wait here," Sam instructed and retrieved the demon blade from his belt. He hesitated only briefly before stepping through the portal, the edges glowing brightly for the seconds it took for him to travel between worlds.

Castiel and Dean waited—Dean ready to follow after him if he sensed trouble. They both watched the steadily shrinking portal and Castiel reached out his hands to touch it. Dean caught his wrist.

"Don't," he warned.

Castiel blinked innocently at him. "Isn't getting rid of me part of the plan?" he asked.

"It's a little more specific than that," Dean muttered uncomfortably. His grip tightened around Castiel's wrist.

"Why?"

"Sam thinks we'd be messing with the natural order of things if we sent you through any portal other than your own."

"But you don't agree?"

Dean hesitated and looked at his feet in shame. "I think I just don't care as much as I probably should."

Castiel lowered his hands, but Dean didn't let go.

"Then why not just let me leave?" Castiel was quiet. He seemed to lean closer to Dean, leaving very little space between them.

"Do you really want to go?" Dean asked timidly.

He was afraid of either answer. Dean neither wanted Castiel to stay or to go, and no amount of thought had lessened his confliction. Instead, he simply lost sleep and steadily drank—making more of an effort to clean up after himself to hide how much liquor he actually consumed—and tried to lose himself in cases that failed to present themselves. Nothing had truly helped.

Before Castiel could respond, Sam appeared through the portal. He appeared a tad taken aback, but completely unharmed, and Dean could tell by his expression that it wasn't the world they were looking for. This wasn't Castiel's portal. Dean's relief was tainted with doubt. He couldn't justly say which of the two he should be feeling. The goodbye—still with no suitable words—sat idle at the tip of his tongue.

He didn't need to share his grief today. Dean could hold onto Cas just that little bit longer.

Sam clapped Dean once on the shoulder, eyeing him pointedly before peering down at Dean's hand that was still holding onto Castiel's wrist. Dean immediately let go and crossed his arms tightly, automatically shifting away from Castiel and putting more space between them. Sam cleared his throat and went back to the car, leaving the two of them alone to watch the portal.

Dean retrieved his gun from his belt and prepped it to fire if need be. Considering Sam's lack of concern, he doubted he would need it, but he knew it was best to remain vigilant nevertheless.

"You should wait in the car," Dean said.

"Dean—," Castiel started.

"Go wait with Sam," Dean ordered, refusing to meet his gaze.

He needed a moment alone. He hoped that the isolation might help him make sense of the conflicted thoughts that were rattling around inside his head. Castiel left him and the portal finally sealed shut, yet Dean still found himself lost with no answers. There was no resolution to any of his doubts or his fears or his anguish.

Dean had nothing.

On the drive home, Castiel requested a cassette to be played on the car radio. Dean wordlessly dug around in the glove compartment, never looking away from the road, and selected the first one he touched. He put it on and kept the volume relatively low, purposely avoiding Castiel's face in the rear-view mirror. He couldn't stand to see that appreciative expression on his face. Dean couldn't watch his eyes come alight with elation. It was far too humanising. Too much like Cas.

Sam nudged Dean's arm and shot him a questioning look, clearly confused as to how and when Castiel became interested in music. Dean dismissed him with a small shake of his head, but Sam persisted and nudged him again harder. Dean couldn't begin to explain it. Sam looked afraid almost—or rather worried. Sam's brow furrowed and his jaw clenched as if forcing himself not to say whatever horrible things he was thinking. Dean had no idea what they were, but he knew he wouldn't wish to hear them. He turned up the music a little bit, making it clear to Sam that he refused to discuss it here—or probably anywhere. Sam sighed and shifted closer to his window.

"It's been so long since I last saw this beautiful Earth," Castiel said from the backseat.

Dean's eyes shot to the mirror; he couldn't help himself.

Castiel gazed out the window in amazement with what could only be described as such a profound love for all that he never had but still somehow lost. For all the angel had seen over the millennia of his existence, nothing entranced him more than Earth. Dean could see it. He just knew. But then something in Castiel's expression turned sad. The light in his eyes dimmed. The faint suggestion of a smile faded from the corners of his lips.

His wonderment ceased to exist and was instead stolen by a sense of sorrow.

This wasn't Castiel's Earth. He and his fellow angels had allowed their Earth to fall into chaos, the perils of war destroying all that was good. Castiel had been left with nothing but ash and blood, the landscape nothing more than a battlefield on which everyone died. For years he had seen nothing more than a blinding hatred and the disrepair of all that they had done.

Dean sensed Castiel's regret. His pain.

And he finally understood why it was that perhaps Castiel wished to stay.

Without giving it much thought, Dean turned the car around—driving over double lines to do so—and went back the way they had come. He stared straight ahead with conviction, pressing down on the accelerator again despite already surpassing the speed limit.

"What the hell are you doing, Dean?" Sam asked.

Dean didn't answer him and just kept on driving. They passed the turnoff where the portal had been and continued on to the nearest lake which was at least another half hour from there. He slowed down as they neared it and went steadily over the slightly uneven dirt terrain to be close to the water's edge. Dean got out of the car, ignoring Sam's questions and protests, and opened Castiel's door. The angel slowly got out, staring at Dean as if asking if this were okay. Dean nodded faintly and watched as Castiel carefully tread down to the water.

Sam stepped around the car and stood beside Dean who was now leaning against the hood. Together they watched the angel as he turned his face to the sky and allowed the sun to kiss his skin. The wind gently swept through his hair and blew the fabric of his trench coat around his legs—much the same way it had done to Cas in that old photograph Dean found in his Bible. Dean imagined Castiel opening his arms to the world, were it not for the cuffs keeping his hands in place. He was finally getting the chance to appreciate everything he had lost back home. All that he had never been granted even before the war, with all of Heaven firm in its inhuman resolve.

"Dean—," Sam murmured tensely, "what are you doing?"

"It's fine, Sam," Dean dismissed him, "his hands are still cuffed. He can't go anywhere."

"That's not what I mean…"

"Then what do you mean?" Dean scuffed the dirt with his foot.

"I'm worried—,"

"As I said, he can't just zap away."

"Dean," Sam repeated sternly, "I'm not worried about him. I'm worried about you."

Dean scoffed and kicked the ground again; a little more forcefully this time. He had heard the speeches one too many times. There was always something: his drinking, his aggression on hunts, or the constant refusal to communicate. He'd heard it all time and time again.

"I'm worried that maybe you're getting attached," Sam said quietly, perhaps afraid that Castiel could hear them. They kept their eyes trained on him and he made no movement to suggest he had overhead anything.

"He isn't Cas," Sam continued, "I see the way you look at him sometimes, Dean… but it isn't Cas."

Dean ignored him, but his hands clenched into fists at his sides and his skin rushed hot then cold. His heart drummed aggressively inside his chest, the pulse coursing through him and momentarily deafening his ears of everything other the heavy beat. Sam knew all that Dean had been trying to deny to himself for all this time. Sam knew Dean was seeing ghosts.

He knew Dean saw Castiel and wished like crazy it was Cas.

Dean cleared his throat and got back into the car, closing the door behind him perhaps a little more forcefully than he had intended. When Sam attempted to walk around to the passenger side, Dean locked the doors and turned the stereo back on, dialling the volume up much higher than necessary to drown out anything and everything.

Then Dean gazed out his window and watched as Cas smiled to the wind.

Thanks for reading, guys! A relatively short chapter this time, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless! Please let me know what you thought in the comments, as I always love reading your feedback :D