Another hour passed before Castiel decided it was time for all the cards to be on the table. He was tired of secrets – they needed to be on the same page or it could kill them both.

"Dean."

"Yeah?"

"Why do you believe you are not worthy of this?"

It was like a book being slammed shut as you were leaning in to read the fine print, Dean's demeanor suddenly defensive.

"No."

"Dean-"

"No. I'm not- just no."

"I need to know."

"No, you don't."

"Dean, Demons are trying to lay claim on your soul. If you don't tell me, I cannot help you."

"How could you help me?"

"I can let you know what to expect in the future. If it is a past sin I can do my best to provide absolution. I can-"

"Not for this."

"I do not understand."

"No one can absolve me for this."

The strains of Led Zeppelin filled Castiel's ears while he fought to understand Dean. He knew that whatever had happened in the past, whatever he had done was eating away at him and yet he refused to let it go. It was consuming him and he refused to break free of it.

"I want to try."

He didn't know where the words came from but he meant them. This man beside him was important, in possibly more ways than one and Castiel wanted to help in any way he could. In a way he could not understand he felt that perhaps if he absolved this man perhaps it would absolve him too – or in the smallest way it would make that possible. Despite this he didn't want to push him, he didn't want to make him shut down rather than reach out. Castiel allowed his words to linger in the air between them as he gripped the wheel a little tighter, focused on the road a little harder. If Dean needed time, he could provide.

Another hour passed in silence before Dean finally began. His voice was barely discernible from the music, his tone low and pained. Castiel knew better than to touch the dial or interrupt; the smallest shift between them would shatter the little resolve Dean had. This was his chance, Castiel knew that.

"I…I've never confessed before. I suppose it's not weird in this day and age, but it's still strange to admit. I've done a lot of fucked up shit – hurt a lot of people. Hell, I can't even remember half of it anymore. I've lied, cheated, coveted and a lot more. There's too much to get into, but I think if that was all I'd be okay with this. I don't see God holding small mistakes against anyone if he really does exist, he'd be like a Dad or Big Brother – a little disappointed but still loves you with all he's got."

The silence physically hurt Castiel's heart – the hesitation in it mixed with the stark sense of vulnerability. He struggled with the urge to pull over and give Dean his undivided attention.

"I-I've killed someone, Cass, and no one stopped me. She was…she was a whore but she didn't deserve to die like that. No one does. I think what made it worse was that no one ever suspected me. I got away with murder and now God's decided to give me wings. That's…That's fucked up, man. That's really fucked up."

"What happened?"

Castiel's voice startled him, the deep rumble of a whisper somewhere just below the music.

"I…we were an item. Kind of. I met her while I was hitchhiking from my brother's – I think we had a fight or something and I left before he could give me a ride home. We hooked up, exchanged numbers and met up a couple of times a week. I knew she was a prostitute, which never bothered me because we were never serious."

Dean's voice cracked as he fought to keep back the surge of emotions he couldn't deal with.

"The condom broke, a couple of months later I find out that she's pregnant. She thinks it's mine – Hell, I thought it was mine and I went to talk to her about it."

His breath came out in a broken sob then as he held his wings a little closer to himself.

"She fucking termed it – our baby – without talking to me. Apparently it wasn't the first time, occupational hazard and what not, but it hit me. Next thing I know we're on some back road screaming at each other and I just want her to back the fuck up. I shove her, she hits her head on this really jagged rock and stops moving."

Dean had to clear his throat as the tears threatened to close his throat.

"The first thing that went through my head was, 'Oh fuck, I killed her'. I didn't bother checking for vitals because she looked like she wasn't breathing. So I wiped down the prints out of her car and left her there."

He stopped for five minutes before he could continue, still too afraid to face the priest beside him.

"I find out a week later – one week of thinking I was gonna go to jail, thinking 'this is it' before I find out that she was alive when I left her there. I could have saved her but I was too busy worrying about my life to save hers. She bled out alone and probably terrified and I was too chicken shit to step forward and accept the blame for it."

Dean's tears slowly dried as his grief turned into self loathing. As he became angrier with himself his voice increased in volume, the words burning through him until they expelled from his mouth.

"So tell me again that you can 'absolve me of my sins'. Tell me this isn't some cruel joke from a God with a magnifying glass. Tell me I deserve this, because I sure as Hell don't think so."

Through the entire speech Castiel had stayed silent, his eyes never leaving the road. Dean felt the shift in speed as the priest slowly pulled onto the shoulder of the road, his eyes still denying him a sideways glance. It wasn't until the cleric switched gears, turning off the ignition and leaving them both swaddled in street lights, that his gaze met Dean's. Searching for something to latch onto, some recognizable emotion in those sapphire eyes and failing, Dean waited for the rejection to come.

"I believe that if God had abandoned you it would not have been like this."

"What-"

"Dean, you do not need absolution from me – you have already been absolved."

He couldn't tear his eyes away, couldn't begin to fathom the depth of the words uttered from between slightly chapped lips. Something in his eyes changed then, a sadness staining their pristine surface.

"Can I tell you something?"

Castiel didn't know what compelled him to provide his own confession yet he could not deny it. He watched the hesitant nod of the tear streaked face of his companion before continuing at last.

"I am a forsaken man."

"What? I don't…"

"God has abandoned me, Dean. Heaven does not wait for me in the afterlife."

"Why do you keep fighting then?"

Of all the questions Dean could have asked, Castiel had not anticipated that one.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you're a hunter and a priest. Why do you bother absolving other people, saving them, if you're doomed? Why bother?"

"The same reason you confessed to me."

"I-"

"Absolution; the hope that maybe someday I will be worthy of it."

Dean met his eyes before surprising him once more, reaching out and pulling him into a comforting embrace. He made no move to escape as Dean made no move to ask what he could have done to deserve it. Castiel found comfort in that as the winged man began to softly stroke his hair, leaning ever so slightly into the hug as tears he did not notice began to fall.

They pulled into the church's parking lot feeling lighter than before they had left, unloading the car before Castiel helped Dean into the trench coat. They knocked three times before an older man answered the door, receding hair and tired eyes greeting them before falling onto Castiel. The priest's eyes crinkled into a warm smile as he stepped aside to let them in.

"Father Christopher, it has been far too long since your last visit."

"It has been a while, Pastor Jim."

"Who is your companion? You do not often bring guests with you on your job."

"Oh, yes…"

Castiel set the bags down before gesturing to his winged companion.

"Pastor Jim, this is Dean Winchester. His situation is…complicated. I would prefer to further elaborate when we are both better rested and refreshed. Dean, this is Pastor Jim. He is a dear friend and has helped me on many hunts."

"So you're a hunter too?"

Dean felt a little uneasy when the man began to chuckle.

"I am more of an informant, a consultant if you will. What about you, Dean? Are you a hunter?"

Castiel knew that tone, interjecting before Dean could understand the implications.

"No, he is not but he is otherwise involved. I would prefer-"

"To speak in the morning, yes. I suspect you remember where the rooms are?"

"Yes, Pastor."

"Then I will speak to you both then. Sleep well, Castiel. Dean."

Father Christopher watched the receding figure disappear down the hall before he recovered his cases and lead Dean to his room. After aiding him out of his coat he retired to his own across the hall, sparing five minutes to settle his belongings before collapsing into the bed and falling into slumber.