The brothers come back from the lunch more tense and anxious than before. Emmanuel is reasonably sure that it has something to do with him, but they don't immediately tell him about it.

Dean mumbles something about checking-in early as he drives the car out of the parking lot. It makes Sam arch his brow exasperatedly. He explains that they need to discuss something once they settled down in the motel more comfortably. Emmanuel doubts that any of them would relax simply because of a change of venue, but nods. He's hardly in a position to argue.

There is not much he can do inside the car. The window has become the most fascinating thing to watch. Emmanuel squints down at the reflection of himself on it. Up to his shoulder, he can see well enough, but his face blurs into a grey asphalt road below him. He puts his hand on the spot where his face should be, trying to chase away the feeling of being cramped in, confined. He knows that he could have gotten out to stretch his legs when Sam and Dean left him alone.

He didn't.

After helping the boy who pickpocketed him, it occurred to him how pointless his running was. People who needed his help could no longer contact him with ease, and he was no closer than before to solving his real problem. He dithered, feeling even more lost as his tentative plan revealed itself to be hollow. Buying a train ticket instead of taking a bus was his pathetic attempt at changing something.

He isn't going anywhere now.

The car comes to a stop in front of a black and white patterned building. This motel looks better than the last place Emmanuel saw them staying in.
The bell above the door chimes in at their arrival.

"Hey, there wouldn't be a room with three beds in it, is there?" Dean asks to the man behind the counter.

"Sorry," the man replies. He is distracted by his phone. "We can send you up a cot if you want."

"I won't require an extra bed," Emmanuel interjects, not wanting to trouble anyone.

The man's head snaps up in attention. He looks between the three of them with a downing look of comprehension. "Ri-ight," he grins. "It's a bit early but, would a king-sized bed suffice?"

"No!" Dean shouts."Jesus, we're brothers."

"Those two are," Emmanuel agrees, for Dean looks truly offended. He is still uncertain why the proclamation of brotherhood is necessary here.

The man slides his glasses upward. "Uh-huh."

"A single room with two beds please," Sam slaps his wallet down on the counter. "No king size."

The man continues to smile knowingly. For some reason, his wink refuels Dean's ire.

"Dude, it's not the first time people made a mistake about us," Sam speaks in a reasonable tone as they leave the cheerful man behind.

"When there were only two of us! Seriously, he saw three men and that was the explanation he come up with? The man needs to get his mind out of the gutter."

"I didn't see any gutter," Emmanuel says almost reflexively. He is half surprised at himself.

Dean snorts. "Yeah, like you totally didn't flame his imagination. Great help back there, Cas."

Emmanuel cannot fully stop himself from flinching. "I'm sorry."

"Huh?" Dean turns his head, sounding off footed. As he sees the amnesiac, a series of emotion flashes rapidly on his face . "No, I-. Never mind," he shakes his head and quickens his pace. He shoves the key inside the lock with more force than necessary. The door makes a rattling sound.

Emmanuel is the last person to come inside the room. As the door closes behind him quietly, he can feel the tension in the air increasing. The brothers are standing around the room like a couple of kids who realized that they couldn't put off their works anymore.

"You said we needed to talk," he states quietly, leaning against the door. He is no more eager than them to start this conversation, but if they felt the need to keep him alive for this, it must be important.

The brothers trade glances. After a moment of silent negotiation, Sam clears his throat. "Emmanuel, we were hoping if you could, uh, elaborate on how much you remember about your past."

"Why do you want to know?"

"You're-," Sam looks almost constipated with the effort to choose his words carefully. "There are some people who would be less than pleased when they see you. We don't want you to be caught off guard and get hurt."

Emmanuel contemplates telling the man that he is trying too hard to be delicate. "Why do you need me safe?" He asks for clarification instead.

"What?"

At this rate, some might get an idea that they are speaking in different language. Emmanuel, however, remains patient. "I can't make sense of most of my memories. I would have to describe every single image floating in my mind to you. If you tell me what you need me for, it would be easier to ascertain whether or not I can be of use."

The brothers stare at him blankly. "Wait," Dean raises his hand up slowly. "You think we want you safe because we want to, to use you?"

"Isn't that the case?"

"No," snaps Dean. He looks stung. "Nobody is using anyone here."

Strange, he thinks. Why is he so adamant? "I betrayed you," he points out.

"So what. You think I should just use you in return?"

The green eyes are blazing. Emmanuel carefully lets out a breath that he didn't know he has been holding. "That would be my penance," he confesses.

The silence is deafening.

"Right," Sam says abruptly admist the tension that is sharp enough to shred someone. "Why don't we all sit down for this?" He follows his own suggestion by dragging a chair out to face the bed and sitting down on it. Dean fumes, leaning heavily down on the chair, but copies the motion.

Emmanuel gathers that he is to sit on the bed. He hesitantly moves toward the spot. With no wall behind him, he feels strangely vulnerable.


Dean feels sick. He grips the edge of the chair tightly. Ever since that day in Daphne's house, a small corner of him whispered that whatever he ended up finding would be broken. He was able to push that part away, however, since worrying about it was useless when the guy was still missing. Besides, Emmanuel he saw in that motel had been strong. Even without his memory, even without the knowledge of his angelic nature, he was steady and reassuring in his gentleness. Dean thought(hoped) that his quiet strength would be enough.

This is wrong, he thinks as he watches Emmanuel folding himself smaller. Cas has always been ready to lay down his life, but not like this. The angel had formidable will to the point of being frustratingly stubborn. The only times he fiercely burned his life was when he thought he was doing the right thing.

What he is now witnessing is nothing close to that. Emmanuel is just laying himself down like a tool to be picked and discarded.

Are you coming?

Of course.

Did Dean break the angel into this? He remembers the future, where Cas was perpetually drugged, laughing in despair. The former angel shrugged and accepted Dean's order without a care.

God, he told himself this was never going to happen in his time.

"Why did you follow us?" He asks thickly, unable to shake the image off his mind. "How do you know we're not trying to use you for something bad?"

"You won't," the answer comes back, as if it is obvious. It's infuriating.

"Well, that's your problem," he sneers, leaning forward. "You're so fucking naive."

Emmanuel narrows his eyes and lifts his chin. The familiar spark of life is both thrilling and nauseating. "I may be naive," he allows in a tone that is anything but conceding. "But I know that I killed many. I know that you hunt those who hurt people. Am I wrong to having assumed that you would stop me before I turn into a monster again?"

"Yes, you're wrong," Dean hisses. He couldn't stop Sam from turning to Ruby, and he couldn't stop Cas from working with Crowley. He couldn't convince Cas to let go of the souls. He knows that he always fails when it comes to people that matter to him. Cas can't just put his life into his hands like this. "Your head is screwed. Are you even remembering things right?"

The angel stares at him steadily. "I remember you leaving to save the lives of two kids while I was torturing someone so bloodly that he spilled everything to me in 5 minutes," he doesn't raise his voice, but it unfailingly stabs into Dean's ears. "What do you remember?"

How convenient, Dean thinks humorlessly. Cas doesn't remember him being Alastair's star pupil, does he? He wouldn't have mentioned that if he did. Well, fuck him.

"I remember you dying because of me!" he yells. More than once, he doesn't dare speak the later part of the sentence out loud.

Cas shakes his head slowly, blue eyes wide. Is he denying the truth?

"Dean," he hears a voice calling him softly. It's Sam.

It's like a cold bucket of water.

Abruptly, he realizes that he revealed too much, that he should have kept his mouth shut. There is a pity in his little brother's eyes, and he can't stand it.

He stands up, almost knocking the chair down. He ignores it and keeps walking. At the last second, he can't help but look back. Emmanue half-rise out of the seat as if to follow him.

You stay here, he considers saying.

He shuts the door.


AN:

Thanks for all the reviews! You guys keep me going. This was a tough scene to write. Dean in an emotionally charged situation is surprisingly difficult x(

Hope you guys liked it. Please let me know what you think!