The distinctive sound of a piano woke him up. It was just a few silent notes, not quite enough to form a melody, but despite their low volume they woke Cas up. He tossed and turned in his bed for a while and finally looked at the only decoration in his room. The clock read 2 am which was far too early (or late) for anyone to be awake and playing the piano. Giving it a second thought, nobody ever plays the piano on this bunker.

"Dean..." Cas sighed in the darkness of his room. It had to be him. Whenever Sam couldn't sleep he turned to reading silently in the bunker's library. He didn't bother anyone and most of the times no one could tell. When Cas couldn't sleep at least he tried not to bother anyone.

Cas slowly stood up and walked barefoot to the place where the sound came from. He was wearing his green and grey flannel pajama pants and a grey t-shirt he had bought at Walmart a long time ago, he had worn those a lot in his dream. He opened the door to the bunker's lounge. The room was vastly different from the rest of the bunker. It had a piano, a small living room area and an ancient pool table that Dean had claimed that he could fix but never started the project.

There, on the piano bench, sat Dean. He had a whisky bottle sitting next to him and one hand lazily playing a single note on the keys. His head was tilted towards the keyboard and his shoulders were tense. Cas was unsure on whether to approach Dean or not. He seemed unaware of his presence, but the angel had made enough noise for the trained hunter to notice. The constant note being played brought Cas to his final decision of advancing.

He slowly walked into the room and that's when Dean turned to look at him. His green eyes were bloodshot and his lips were set in an unhappy frown. Cas stopped walking altogether and waited for Dean to say something. Dean didn't, instead he returned his attention to the piano and played a couple more notes. Cas sighed in relief at the lack of a rejection. He took a hold of the whiskey bottle and placed it on top of a table far from Dean's reach and sat down next to him on the bench. Dean didn't complain.

"Hey Cas." Dean croaked out without turning around to look at him.

"Hello Dean." Cas responded, still not comfortable with being around Dean. The urge to just place a hand on his cheek and pull him into a kiss was still burning hot. He could feel a small amount of anxiety coursing through his veins and settling in his stomach. Cas ignored that feeling, Dean needed him and he couldn't be selfish right now. A part of him wanted to flee, the other part wanted to kiss Dean until he was happy again, the strongest part wanted to silently be there for him and to let Dean use his support however he wanted.

He noticed that Dean was wearing only his black boxer briefs and a t-shirt. Well, at least Cas didn't feel underdressed anymore. Cas didn't say anything for a while. Dean didn't either. They just sat there in silent company. If Dean wanted to talk then he would just do it; Cas knew that better than anyone else. He knew that no words from him were actually needed.

Five notes were played in quick succession, finally forming something close to a melody. Cas frowned because he didn't recognize it right away. Dean turned his head gently to study his face. He seemed to find something in his expression because he sat up slightly straighter.

"Have you ever played the piano?" Dean asked in throaty whisper.

"No, I've never... had the chance." Cas responded slowly, not sure what the point was.

"Wanna try it out?" Dean asked with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Yes, Dean." Cas could never say no to him.

Dean nodded and manhandled Cas into a correct position on the bench. Cas flinched, but let Dean get away with it.

"Do you know anything about playing?" Dean asked before doing anything else.

"I saw Chopin, Beethoven and Rachmaninoff compose their most famous songs."

"I barely know who Beethoven is, but I'm guessing that watching and actually doing it is way different." Dean teased with a small smile.

Cas shrugged with a smile. He was smiling because Dean already looked more comfortable in his own skin. He was slightly more relaxed and seemed to use teaching to get his mind out of whatever was haunting him earlier.

"You have to place all your fingers here." Dean grabbed his left hand and placed it on top of the keys. "This is mostly played in mid C."

"You had piano classes?" Cas asked when he recognized that Dean was using professional terms.

"I- ahh... yes." Dean flushed and cleared his throat. "The teacher was kinda hot." Dean shrugged with a shy smile and placed his hands in his chest to symbolize boobs. "Don't judge me, okay? I only took the classes because of the teacher." Dean wiggles his eyebrows and looked at his hands forming fake boobs to deliver the message that Cas disliked.

"Never, Dean." Cas answered truthfully. Dean gulped awkwardly and nodded.

"Alright then... so." Dean grabbed his right hand. "Place your fingers here and your pinky here." His hands gently moved his fingers on top of the keys. "Alright, your thumb goes in D." He moved his thumb. "I'm going to play the notes over here and you are going to copy me." Cas nodded.

Dean played 6 notes with practiced ease with only his right hand. Cas repeated them on the scale that Dean had told him to.

"Well done Cas." Dean smiled.

Cas smiled at his feet to prevent Dean from seeing him blush... "Thanks, Dean. What's next?"

"I- uhh. I don't know unless I sing it." Dean scratched the back of his neck in a nervous movement.

"Then why don't you?" Cas asked with a curious frown.

Dean looked at him with lost eyes and sighed. He didn't know why he was always surprised by Cas' lack of a verbal filter.

"My mom used to sing this to me before... before." Dean cleared his throat. "God it's been like thirty years and I can't say it."

"I know Dean. You don't have to." Cas placed a hand on his shoulder. "Not with me. I understand that it's a difficult subject for you, Dean." Cas pursed his lips in a sideways smile.

Dean just stared at him with parted lips. Dean looked at him like he couldn't understand what he was seeing. Like he was seeing him for the first time.

"Thanks Cas." Dean whispered. He placed both hands on the piano. "I'll show you the chords, watch my hands." Dean took a deep breath and held it in. Cas was looking at him with expectation in his blue eyes. "I said watch my hands not me!" Dean snapped while laughing.

"Oh! Sorry!" Cas blushed and turned his attention to Dean's hands on the piano.

"This are the cords…. Hey Jude," Dean began singing in a low voice and played the piano at the same time. "Don't make it bad! Take a sad song and make it better." Dean saw that Cas wasn't looking at his hands and, instead of stopping, he closed his eyes tightly and continued singing. "Remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better!" Dean stopped there and turned to Cas who was looking at him intently with his mouth slightly parted.

"That was beautiful Dean." Cas was staring at Dean like he was the most important thing in the world. Dean couldn't take it and, instead of taking the compliment, he chuckled.

Dean scowled at him. "Shut up."

Cas frowned. "Why?"

"Because it's weird, dude." Dean snapped.

"I'm sorry." Cas looked down to his hands resting idly in his lap. He was fidgeting with his fingers, twitching to do something. "I don't know what's wrong with what I said, Dean. I just think that you have a beautiful voice."

Dean rolled his eyes and groaned. "Oh come on dude! You can't just say that."

"Yes, I can." Cas' voice sounded a bit too desperate and strained. He sat up straighter and looked down at Dean with a raised eyebrow. He knew far too well how aggressive and dominant he looked when he did that. The anxiety was driven away by a sudden sense of anger. The only thing he couldn't stand was seeing Dean hate himself when he was the most perfect thing he had ever seen "I've heard all the great singers and watched more humans than you can imagine. I've been here longer than your know." Dean laughed at that and curled his fingers into a fist. Cas wanted to rip the self-depreciation from his soul and heal it with whatever remnants of his grace he had left. "When I say that something is special, then it must be." A pause... "Not many things can surprise an angel, Dean."

Dean glared at his hand. He wanted to run, to scream, to fight, to do anything; he was nothing near what Cas had just said. Cas was simply trying to make him feel better by lying to him, like everyone else did. Like all the chicks at the bar who said that he was the best thing they'd ever seen or touched.

"Well thankfully you don't have your dick wings anymore, so you can be surprised now." Dean shouted the first insult he could think of at Cas and hit the piano board with his fist; at least he had enough presence of mind not to hit the keys.

Cas recoiled like he had just been slapped in the face with a chair. Dean looked furious with his bloodshot eyes and his clenched teeth. Cas opened his mouth like he was going to apologize, but just let out a pained noise and began to stand up awkwardly. Dean's face slowly fell as he began to realize what he had just said out loud. Dean was quickly feeling all sobered up. He felt cold inside, like a monster. How could he?

"Cas..." Dean began in a soft voice.

"No Dean. I'm sorry." Cas stood up and began moving to the door. His foot caught in the bench, but he didn't let himself fall. He wasn't going to fall for Dean again. He refused to look any more vulnerable in front of Dean. The first time he allowed himself to act like himself since he woke up a month ago, and this is how Dean reacts.

"Cas, I didn't mean-" Dean lifted a hand to hold Cas back by his shoulder, but Cas brushed it away and kept walking with his chin raised with bravery.

"Yes, Dean, you meant it." Cas barked in a low tone, the one he had used during his first meeting with Dean in that barn. "You disliked me when I had my power because you knew that I could smite you whenever I wanted. The reason why you endured my presence was because I was useful to you and Sam. You have no need for me now."

"Cas..." Dean's voice broke, they both used the excuse of him having ingested liquor as the cause of the ill state of his voice. They refused to acknowledge that it was emotion that caused his voice to break.

"The thing about my sudden humanity is that it makes you angry because of a misplaced sense of guilt. You prefer it when I'm weak and useless in this form." Cas didn't look at Dean when he slammed the behind him.

"Cas!" Dean shouted, but he didn't run after him. He knew he would only make things worse for his friend.

Cas ignored Dean and ran to his room. He would probably start to throw things at the wall if it weren't for the fact that he only had a lamp and a clock on his bedside table. He could feel tears burning in his eyes, but he refused to be as weak as Dean though he was. He was stronger than that. He was one of the oldest beings alive and he was letting one man break him with nothing but words.

Cas grunted in exasperation and hit the wall with a fist. He hit the wall repeatedly until his knuckles bled and he couldn't feel his fingers anymore. He knew that he should be feeling some kind of pain, but apparently his human body was supplying him with enough adrenaline to keep his nerves numbed.

Later, he went to the bathroom in the hall to wash out the blood from his knuckles. Cas didn't know how to use bandages so he gave up trying and took some pills he knew worked for the pain he was about to feel soon enough. He went to bed, careful to not lay on top of his damaged hand. Pain was an interesting thing, it reminded him of what being alive felt like. He fell asleep with that thought in mind.

In the morning, the first thing he did was raise a hand to rub his face. He groaned when he felt the battered skin of his knuckles stretch painfully. Cas skipped his usual morning ritual of taking a shower and getting dressed to look for Sam. He grabbed the med kit under his bed and took off. Cas looked inside the industrial kitchen, then in the war room, and finally found Sam in the library.

"Morning Cas." Sam greeted him from his laptop.

"Good morning Sam. Could you please help me with something?" Cas asked politely.

"Sure." Sam closed his laptop and finally focused his full attention on Cas. "Jesus! What happened to your hand?" Sam stood up and ran forward to examine Cas' hand carefully.

"I hit the wall... repeatedly." Cas muttered sheepishly avoiding eye contact.

"Why?" Sam asked with his puppy eyes look.

"I-" Cas hesitated. "I was angry and had no other way to express it." It was the truth despite how shameful it was. Sam started applying some ointment on his knuckles. The contact was painful, but he could feel his skin feel immediately grateful for the cold sensation.

"I'm sorry Cas." Sam apologized.

"Why?" Cas asked with his usual frown. Sam shrugged and started rummaging around in the med kit for the right gauze.

"I just feel like I've failed to show you how to deal with stuff and do normal things." Sam looked at him with his sad eyes. Cas glared in response. He hated how condescending Sam was, and hated the pity and sadness in his eyes. Sam felt the same misplaced guilt that Dean felt towards him.

"Don't worry, the Djinn took care of that for you." Cas glared at him, daring Sam to say something else. Sam was smart enough to shut up and just continue to help Cas with his hands.

"Cas... I-" Sam started talking when he finished bandaging his knuckles.

"Thanks for the aid, Sam." Cas nodded curtly. "I'm going to prepare breakfast, do you want something?" Cas took some backward steps and pointed at the kitchen with his thumb.

Sam gaped at him and shook his head in shock. "Ah- no thanks. I already ate something before my morning jog." Sam smiled awkwardly. Cas pursed his lips into a smile and nodded respectfully before walking away.

Sam sat there in shock for a moment. Cas hadn't just cut him off and avoided him like the plague. He had seamlessly declared how independent he actually was without actually saying it. Sam was amazed by the skills he had shown in two phrases.