A/N: Some dialogue from 5.04 in this chapter. So another disclaimer that I do not own Supernatural, I make no profit from this, and full credit goes to Edlund et al.

Cas felt like he was awake all the time. He barely needed to sleep, didn't seem able, and when he did, the sleep didn't serve to make him feel more rested. He took drugs, and drank a great deal of absinthe to try and recapture his dreams, the ones in which he spoke to Sam – but he never did get to dream about that. Sometimes he dreamed other things. Sometimes his dreams perfectly blended together ancient Egypt and modern day America and he spoke to people who were long dead, who had lived in completely separate periods of history. But mostly his dreams just made no sense and told him nothing of any import.

In his human form, he perceived time differently from the way he used to. In the past, he would scarcely have noticed the passing of six years. Certainly, in the times before the humans had evolved, the Earth passing around the sun six times had been a matter of no more consequence than a second hand ticking by six seconds on a clock – or perhaps that was just the way that Cas had come to remember it due to the amount of time that had passed since then. Those memories were old, faded, abridged, smudged out by the passage of time. Falling from grace had been a definite turning point. He perceived time now in much the same way as a human would, and the six years that he had known Dean seemed like really quite a long time indeed, as did the mere six days since Dean had left.

To distract himself, he went to parties, hosted parties, tried to keep himself ever busy to drown out his thoughts and feelings, as if by constant motion and distraction he could put his depression on pause forever.

Chuck drank a lot, but on his own, and rarely attended parties. They gave him headaches, and he swore that getting headaches made him more liable to have visions and pass out and make a scene, though Cas thought that he was imagining it.

He sat next to Cas on the couch and got drunk, in the day. They were in Cas's cabin – for now it was exclusively his – while other people sat around and talked and listened to music.

Pamela was there – she had been round one evening already and spoken to Cas at length about Sam, and Dean, and Lucifer, and everything. It had been one of those dizzyingly intense conversations that had gone on for a long time, until Cas wasn't sure what was rational anymore. Pamela had stayed over and it seemed to make perfect sense at the time, though virtually none the next morning. It was awkward.

Cas was aware of Dean spending time with Risa. Risa was someone that Dean could talk to, Cas supposed, though in a way that made it worse. If it were purely about sex it would bother Cas a lot less; but the idea that Dean was talking to someone else when he could have just stayed with Cas and talked to him... it made so little sense that Cas found himself getting angry about it. He found himself venting his frustration talking to Chuck, who nodded politely and looked around himself awkwardly.

"Would you like another drink?" Cas asked Chuck.

"No, thanks," Chuck replied nervously. "I've got a headache coming on. I think... I think I'm gonna see something. I don't know. It's better if I go to sleep and let it come to me in a dream, so I think I'm gonna go."

"Okay," Cas replied, hauling himself to his feet. He headed over to the corner with the idea of getting another drink for himself, but then thought of saying goodbye to Chuck, and half turned around to do so, the indecisiveness about what the hell he was trying to do causing him to stumble. Cas fell, but Chuck caught him and set him back on his feet. Cas blinked at him. "Chuck, are you God?"

Chuck looked at him askance. "What?"

"Please don't lie to me," Cas sighed, deflated.

"Cas, I..." Chuck wasn't sure what to say.

"Forget it," Cas said dismissively. "Forget it."

Cas leaned back against the wall. There were too many people.

He opened his eyes and Chuck was gone, and the scene around him was slipping out of focus, the sounds of it were echoing in ways that didn't make sense, and Cas was dimly aware that he had drunk too much. He wanted everyone to leave but couldn't really be bothered to tell them to go.

The song playing in the background appeared to be called Wish I Had an Angel, but if anyone else in the room noticed the irony of playing it in Cas's presence, they didn't mention it.

Cas hauled himself away from the wall and staggered through into the other room, leaning heavily on the wall, though his hand slipped and he found himself lurching forward and falling to the floor. He blinked and remained where he was, slumped at an awkward angle against the wall with nothing to rest his head on, hurting his neck. Laughter from the other room sliced through the air and Cas flinched. The smell of smoke and stale sweat suddenly became overpowering, the lights too bright, the music too loud.

Cas pushed himself to his knees and crawled to the door, pulling it open and practically throwing himself out of it, hoping that no one saw him leave, praying that no one would come after him.

Last time this had happened Dean had been there. But not this time. Dean was gone and Cas couldn't understand it, to an extent didn't want to understand it, wanting it to be some inexplicable phenomenon that he was powerless against.

He sat outside by himself, quietly, until the sun went down.

Early the next morning, there was a meeting in Dean's cabin; the first one that Cas had attended since their separation. The nature of their break-up was different this time, and everyone knew it. The assumption seemed to be that this was permanent.

Cas got there at the appointed time, though he had a pounding headache and his mouth was dry and he felt slightly nauseous. As he sat down next to Yaeger he realised that he had a real hangover, and wasn't all that insulated from the effects by being an angel. Perhaps he was still getting more human all the time.

"Cas? Are you listening?"

Cas looked up to see Dean staring at him. "Hmm? Yes. Of course."

Dean narrowed his eyes and opted not to chastise him further. "As I was saying," Dean went on brusquely, "we're going out west, to this crossroads. If there's one thing Crowley knows, it's crossroads, and we can ambush the demons there and take the colt. It's not gonna be easy. They're going everywhere flanked by croats these days that they use like mad dogs to set on humans and prevent us from getting close."

Cas nodded and absorbed this information. This was going to be the mission – they may finally get the colt. After all this time.

"I suppose you're coming?" Dean asked, looking at Cas impassively.

"If I have your permission," Cas replied dryly.

Dean remained expressionless. "It's a long trip, and we're gonna have to keep quiet. No screwing around, no lapses in concentration. So you'll need to be off the booze and keep it in your pants for a whole twelve hours, Cas, think you can manage that?"

"I can try," Cas replied, coolly.

Dean glared at him. Cas attempted to glare back but looked at the floor instead. How the hell had they ended up with so much bitterness between them?

"Good," Dean said simply, calling an end to the meeting. The others present said nothing and averted their eyes from Cas, though as soon as they were out of the room Cas could hear their voices, talking amongst themselves. Gossip, Dean would call it.

Dean himself sat on the other side of the table, so that it acted as a barrier between them. He picked up a map and held it up in front of himself, until Cas couldn't see his face either.

Supposing that the others would be well away by now, Cas got up and left without a word, going back to his cabin.

He slept, or at least, drifted in and out of fatigued unconsciousness, through much of the day. They weren't due to leave until the next morning, and Cas hoped to get himself together by then.

He woke up in the late afternoon and drank some water, returning to the bed to doze for for a while. He pulled the covers over around himself as the weather had suddenly become colder. Dreams came to him, or at least, they were combinations of memories and things he could imagine. He thought about Heaven for a long time, wondering what had become of it, and then he thought about Dean.

All through the last winter, and the one before that, Dean had shared this bed with him, and when it was cold they had curled up under the covers together, sharing warmth and affection. Cas curled up in the covers and reached between his legs and thought of Dean, but he was still unbearably tired and his heart wasn't really in the activity. He rested his hand there and thought back. Some time after he and Dean arrived at Camp Chitaqua, some time after they had developed the habit of sleeping in the same bed every night because there didn't seem to be any point in seeking out a separate bed for one of them, some time after having sex had already become a familiar thing that they did - Dean had asked Cas, once, whether he had ever wanted it at all. Cas hadn't understood what he meant.

Two glasses of whiskey later, Dean had explained, "That night, after Detroit – it just kind of happened. The first time. Was that something you wanted? I mean, if I hadn't... would you ever?"

"Yes," Cas had replied. "I wanted you before. I want you now. I always will want you. I need you."

Castiel had, especially in those days, a way of stating quite important things concisely and simply, without their proper grandeur or gravity. It was disarming, especially for Dean, especially then when Cas had said I need you for the first time. Cas remembered the look on Dean's face, how he hadn't said anything, they had just ended up on the bed tangled up in each other, being close to each other no longer as human and angel, but as two humans, in the imperfect and fascinating ways that humans tried, and sometimes succeeded, to compensate for their eternal separateness, their eternal isolation within their individual corporeal bodies.

Sex, with people he had no such desire to be close to, was a poor replacement. It was an entertaining way to pass the time, and certainly he did enjoy it to some extent, but it ultimately did noting to fill the void; only to distract Cas from it.

Cas cast off the covers and leapt up, resolute. Distractions and diversions weren't good enough. He needed Dean.

The cold evening air as he left the cabin rushed through and messed up his hair, swept over his skin and made it tingle, and Cas felt especially alive, for a moment. It was almost completely dark, and the camp was quiet as he walked through it and over to Dean's cabin. A light was on inside, and Cas prepared himself to knock on the door.

Before he could, however, the door opened and Dean looked out at Cas with surprise. "What are you doing here?"

Cas, surprised that Dean happened to open the door just as he arrived, returned, "Where are you going?"

Dean didn't answer, but his eyes flitted to the left, and Cas looked in that direction, seeing the Impala. He was about to say something to Dean, but Dean asked tersely, "What do you want?"

"Are you alone?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Cas licked his lips. "This could be our last night together."

Dean rolled his eyes and shifted his weight. "Oh, Cas, not the last night on Earth speech – that's awful when I do it and I at least have charm." Dean just looked annoyed at Cas's obvious insinuation. "So – what? You want me to fuck you one last time for old times sake?"

Cas was a little surprised with just how dismissive Dean was being, so responded in kind, "I'm sure you actually want me to fuck you, but sure, however you want to phrase it..."

Dean shook his head in exasperation. "I thought it took three or four people to amuse you nowadays?"

Cas longed to make some witty rejoinder, but all he could think was Yes. Even four people does not compare to you, and that was entirely the wrong tone. Cas was trying to hurt Dean here; he wasn't going to admit that. In the end he just smirked, and answered, "I was going to invite some girls over tomorrow, but I suppose we could do it tonight."

"I suppose you could." Dean replied, indifferently.

"And tomorrow I will be busy with this mission. Then again, I haven't planned anything–"

"Exactly how much planning does an orgy take?" Dean snapped, this conversation getting to him a little. "If you're gonna do it, get on and do it."

"You know..." Cas tried to pretend that Dean's apparent indifference didn't upset him. "You would be welcome to join in. Some fun before we risk our lives tomorrow."

Dean sighed heavily and let his head drop forward, not looking at Cas, not responding to him at all for a long moment. He stepped back from the door and impatiently beckoned Cas inside, after which he slammed the door shut, giving them privacy.

"Cas, don't come with me on this mission."

For a moment Cas wasn't sure what he had heard. "Why not?"

"Just don't," Dean said, through gritted teeth.

"It's my decision," Cas insisted. "We agreed – you don't get to tell me whether I can go on missions or not–"

"Cas," Dean interrupted, and it was then that Cas noticed how pained he looked. "Look," he said slowly. "I'm going to get the colt. And then up against Lucifer. If... if anything were to happen to you–"

"Nothing's going to happen to me."

"You don't know that!" Dean suddenly grabbed Cas by the front of his shirt and pushed him back against the wall. His eyes blazed into Cas's, and Cas just looked back with confusion, not sure what to make of the sudden intensity of Dean's emotions. Dean went on, "I can't lose you. Not now."

Cas narrowed his eyes. Dean had already ended their relationship – Cas was already lost. Alive, but lost to Dean. Cas couldn't say that he saw the logic, and Dean quickly became exasperated with Cas's lack of understanding.

"You can't die now," Dean said directly. "Not now. I can't take that. Don't you get it? I..." Dean took a deep breath and looked away, as Cas began to understand what Dean was saying: going up against Lucifer, against Sam, while grieving Cas's death would be too much for Dean to deal with, if it were to happen. Dean was already at breaking point, or indeed well past it.

"I need you," Dean forced out, "to do this for me. And I know I got no right to ask, but I need it. I need you to be here when I get back. Please, I'm asking you: just do this one last thing for me."

A long moment of silence stretched between them before Cas finally nodded. Dean pulled open the door and Cas numbly turned around and walked out of it. Dean closed it behind him, waiting for him to go away, and all at once Cas was alone in the dark.

Cas barely slept that night. Azaria came round and knocked at the door, but Cas kept silent and ignored her completely. Dean was... wherever he was. Perhaps alone. Probably with Risa. Or maybe Jane. Cas didn't really care. It didn't matter anymore.

Cas could hear them in the morning. Outside there was the murmur of voices and movement, and occasional thuds and bangs of things being moved about. Cas buried his head under the pillow. Why couldn't people have any consideration for his need to sleep?

Then Cas remembered; as far as anyone knew, he was supposed to be going on this mission. And Matt and Yaeger and whomever else may be going would probably be wondering why he wasn't outside helping them to load up.

Wearily, Cas got up, got dressed, and went out of the door, squinting in the bright sunlight. "Morning," Cas greeted Matt.

Dean just glared at him. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here."

Dean rolled his eyes and turned his back, taking a few steps over to pick up a case of ammunition from the ground. Matt and Yaeger both looked at Cas questioningly, and Matt said Cas's name as if to ask what was going on.

"He's not coming," Dean said gruffly.

The others nodded and said nothing, going about their business.

"If you say so," Cas said, leaning over the veranda. "Your word is law."

"Is there a point to this?" Dean snapped.

Cas didn't answer, looking down at his hands. No, he didn't suppose there was a point. He looked back up at Dean, watching his movements closely. Dean seemed very distracted about something – something beyond what had been happening between himself and Cas – but he was doing an excellent job with hiding it, and no one else gave any indication that they shared Cas's suspicions. When Dean looked at him, Cas caught Dean's eyes, as if to say, I know. He knew that something had happened to Dean, something he was not sharing. Dean quickly looked away.

Cas leaned over the veranda and raised his hand to Dean. "Well then, good luck, Captain Ahab."

Dean scowled at him and turned away, only then realising that, after all this time, that was the first time Cas had called him by a name other than his own to compare him to a fictional character. Even then, Cas had some inscrutable desire for Dean's appraisal of his behaviour, just as he always got when he copied Dean's mannerisms and idioms in his quest to become more human.

The only reply Dean gave was a dismissive, "I don't need luck."

Cas laughed. "No, right, yeah..." Cas replied sarcastically, "Because this is your sacred special destiny and the world revolves around you."

Dean threw his guns into the duffle bag on the ground and said, without only a glance at him, "You know what, blow me, Cas."

Cas kept staring back at him, not even blinking while Dean zipped up his duffle. It was not until Dean looked at him once more that Cas raised his eyebrows and said calmly, "Okay."

Dean rolled his eyes and turned away, hauling the duffle onto his shoulder and pointedly avoiding the glances of the other men and not acknowledging what Cas had said.

"Ignore him," Dean ordered them.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Cas countered, addressing Dean. "I'm an angel."

"No you're not," Dean said simply. "And I have listened to you, I said no to Michael, like you said. When it counted, I listened to you, and that's why we're in this mess."

Cas wanted to retort, but couldn't think of anything, because he supposed that Dean sort of had a point. Dean turned away and left, the other men following after him with wary glances back at Cas. And Cas thought that it was, in many ways, his fault.

While Dean was gone, Cas carried on much as he had been before, ruminating excessively on his own guilt, as well as what may be going on with Dean. Cas wondered whether someone or something had finally answered one of Dean's prayers - but he couldn't possibly have had an answer from Michael. If he had, there would be no need for the colt. Cas racked his brain and speculated wildly, but he didn't know what else could be going on, and eventually decided to forget it. Perhaps it was some issue between Dean and some other person and was not relevant. Cas tried medicating away his thoughts about Dean and the way things presently were between them as much as he possibly could. He never really could, though. Drugs still didn't fully remove him from reality.

Azaria came round, joined by others later. On some pretence, Cas delayed getting started until it was getting to the time that they were due to expect Dean to come back.

By then, Cas was sat on the floor with Azaria and three other women, and he knew that Dean would be back at any moment. He did fully intend to go through with this no matter what Dean's reaction was – but it was never truly about them. He reeled off his somewhat rehearsed speech about total shared perception and physical connections, and they all listened attentively. Cas was sure that, in truth, they knew what a load of crap this was, but that didn't matter. That meant that they were just there for the sex, which was certainly no bad thing in Cas's mind.

Cas had evidently stalled enough for Dean to return before they began, and, sure enough, Dean appeared in the doorway. Cas smiled. He hadn't heard the truck pull up, but then again, he had been kind of distracted. "Excuse me, ladies, I think I need to confer with our fearless leader for a moment." He took a second to wink at Dean before asking them to go get washed up for the orgy.

Cas got up and took a few steps over to the bed, as a kind of non-committal invitation, stretching his back and shoulders.

"What are you, a hippie?"

Oh really, Dean? This again? "I thought you'd gotten over trying to label me," Cas replied wearily, letting his arms fall to his sides. Clearly, Dean was not in the mood for any of this.

When Cas turned around though, he was instantly aware that something was off. Dean was hesitant, attempting to talk to him; the body language was all wrong. "Woah... strange."

"What?"

"You... are not you." Cas turned his head to one side, eyes widened. "Not now you, anyway." Dean definitely looked younger and carried himself differently.

"No! Yeah, yes, exactly." Dean replied, apparently relieved.

"What year are you from?"

"2009."

"Who did this to you? Was it Zachariah?"

"Yes."

"Interesting..." Cas thought. This must be what had unsettled Dean - and 2009 - that was a good few years before any of this – before their relationship had got so tangled up and complicated.

When Dean asked to be returned to his page on the calendar, the reminder that Cas couldn't do that hurt, like a physical tightness in his chest, as he remembered all the things he used to be able to do for Dean, all of which powers were lost to him now, and he had to turn away.

Cas laughed, at the absurdity of the whole thing, the absurdity of himself. He had to explain to past Dean that he no longer had his powers, and while they spoke Cas couldn't help but stare at Dean with a kind of wonderment; this was Dean before all this, before Detroit, before Croatoan, before being a leader. The man standing in front of Cas now was the man that Cas loved, and Cas felt as if his world had been turned upside down. How was he supposed to react to this? He was somewhat surprised in his own ability to keep himself together and function so well – but by this point Cas had seen plenty of weird shit in his life.

They were interrupted by the sound of trucks pulling up outside. Dean went out and Cas followed, though he wasn't sure how far he should let Dean stray from the cabin – other people probably shouldn't see him – but there was little chance of stopping Dean before he walked the short distance down to where the trucks had pulled up.

Dean, the present version of him, was out of the truck with the other guys, partaking in a celebratory beer.

But then, out of the blue, Dean turned, drew his gun and shot Yaeger in the head, killing him.

A tense silence followed, in which Cas raised his eyebrows and looked at Dean, assuming that Yaeger had become infected with Croatoan, and that explained it.

The eyes of Matt and the other soldier fell on him more than they did on the past incarnation of Dean who was also standing there.

Dean looked over at him, and his past self, and cursed under his breath. He explained to the others, "Me and him, it's a pretty messed up situation we got going. But when you need to know something you will know it."

The others were still looking at at Cas, and past Dean turned to look at Cas too, frowning, trying to untangle what the hell was going on. Cas kept his face neutral – not sure how much past Dean should know.

Dean brusquely told the men to deal with Yaeger, and then he, his past self and Cas walked back up the slope to the cabin. He exchanged a look with Cas, and Cas nodded, returning to his cabin to wait while Dean talked to his past self – who was understandably freaked out about the whole business of seeing himself shoot a man in the head with no explanation.

Azaria came back to the cabin with Sarah, the other two women not sure whether they should return or not. Cas leaned down over the veranda to talk to them.

"Are we to take it that we'll have to take a rain-check on this?" Azaria asked.

"You are," Cas replied. "This isn't a good time."

"You're busy with something?"

Cas nodded. "I will be."

Azaria shook her head. "Well..." she frowned, and Cas wondered how much she knew about what was going on, whether she had any idea they had finally got the colt. No one else was privy to the knowledge that she was an angel, and it hadn't changed much between them, as they were both humans now. It did mean that he trusted her with rather more information than before, but now, with the obfuscating effect that drugs tended to have on his memory he couldn't remember exactly what he'd told her.

She smiled wryly, and urged him, "Look after yourself, Cas." She turned away, then, and walked with Sarah back to their own cabins.

Look after yourself. Cas remained where he was for a moment, struck by the similarity between Azaria's advice and Dean's. Perhaps that had always been why he liked her; she reminded him of Dean, in the first place. Cas chuckled to himself and went back inside.

Dean joined him a moment later, and his mood of excited anxiety seemed to suffuse the atmosphere and rub off on Cas. Dean stood, in silence, with his duffle still on his shoulder, watching Cas carefully, as if trying to work out whether he was sober enough for this conversation.

Cas began for him. "Am I to take it that you got the colt?"

"Yeah," Dean replied, gruffly, pulling the gun out of his bag.

Cas stepped closer and looked it over – it looked precisely as he remembered it, dull metal, just a gun, Dean's hand securely around it, gripping it tightly.

On some impulse of pure relief, Cas grabbed the front of Dean's jacket and kissed him then, forgetting that they were not together anymore, forgetting everything else that was going on. Dean apparently forgot too, as he kissed back, and when they parted they looked at each other with pure bewilderment.

Dean cleared his throat and looked away. "Right. Listen, you go get Risa, take her to the cabin. Explain the situation to her - and about Marty McFly." Cas narrowed his eyes at Marty McFly and Dean rolled his eyes. "Just get her. We're gonna talk this over, now."

Cas did as he was asked, assuming Marty McFly to be Dean's past self, and this was a pop culture reference. There was little time to reflect on the colt or his kiss with Dean, on how natural and easy it had felt, how when he was kissing Dean he felt alive for the first time in a few days. So he explained past Dean to Risa. She took it in her stride rather well, and was eager to see the evidence for herself. As they entered the cabin, past Dean greeted her, and she looked between the two. "Wow, so it was you I saw, earlier?"

"Yep," past Dean nodded.

She chuckled and shook her head, but Cas could tell from her body language and by the way she pointedly refused to look and the present Dean that she was vexed about something. She leaned back against a post and folded her arms.

Cas had got a drink, and presently sat at the table and put his feet up on it, crossing one leg over the other. He was being driven by the strangest impulse to look a certain way to past Dean, to present himself as someone who was cool and collected, but not as stiff and awkward as he had been five years previously. He wanted Dean to see him for what he was, but only the best of what he was, insofar as that was possible.

"So that's it," Risa began. "That's the colt."

"If anything can kill Lucifer, this is it," Dean confirmed.

"Great. Have we got anything that can find Lucifer?"

Dean looked at her, uncertain as to the meaning of her tone. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, we were in Jane's cabin last night," Past Dean interjected, helpfully. "And apparently, we and Risa have a connection."

Cas laughed and took a large sip of the glass of absinthe he had poured for himself.

Dean didn't address that, and went on, "We don't have to find Lucifer, we know where he is. The demon that we caught last week; he was one of the big guy's entourage. He knew."

"So a demon tells you where Satan's gonna be and you just believe it?"

"Oh trust me, he wasn't lying."

"And you know this how?"

Cas explained, "Our fearless leader, I'm afraid, is all too well-schooled in the art of getting to the truth." Cas looked at the floor after that, unable to put on any front of finding that acceptable, unable to dismiss it with a joke or sarcasm.

Cas looked over at past Dean when he spoke. "Torture? Oh so we're torturing again? We'll that's... that's good... classy."

Cas chuckled at that – at Dean in the days when he could make a joke out of just about anything. Dean shot him a demanding look, and Cas responded, "What? I like past you."

Dean seemed a little rattled by this, though he masked it well. He spread out a map on the table. "Lucifer is here, now. I know the block and I know the building."

"Oh good," Cas sighed, "it's right in the middle of a hot zone."

"Crawling with croats, yeah. Are you saying my plan is reckless?" Dean challenged.

"Are you saying we – walk in straight up the driveway past all the demons and the croats and we shoot the devil?"

"Yes."

"Okay." Cas went on, rising to the confrontation. "If you don't like, uh, 'reckless' I could use 'insouciant' maybe?"

"Are you coming?" Dean asked, and in that moment Cas fully realised that Dean was completely serious about this, there was no banter on his side of this exchange, nothing hidden in his question. He was simply giving Cas the choice that he had promised.

"Of course." Cas replied, quickly looking at past Dean to go on to another subject. "But why is he? I mean he's you five years ago, if something happens to him you're gone, right–?"

"He's coming."

"Okay." Cas sighed and got up, glancing at Risa. Dean was in no mood to talk to them any further. "We'll uh, we'll get the grunts moving," he concluded, leaving with Risa.

All Dean said in reply was an order that they were to be on the road by midnight.

"Alrighty!" Cas called back, trying to keep himself together, losing himself in the comforting security of having things to do, and, loath as he was to admit it, orders to follow. This he could do, this made sense, and this helped to keep his fears for what was to come at bay.