November 3, 1996 – May 2, 1999

In the weeks after Castiel left the Winchesters on the riverbank, the ache of Dean's longing and loneliness didn't fade no matter how far away Castiel flew from Sioux Falls. The profound emotional bond he had with Dean that he used to treasure had become a source of torture rather than one of comfort. Other feelings came and went like tides, but all of it was underscored by the terrible yearning. Eventually it was all Castiel could feel. Everything else dissolved into a buzzing white noise.

For a while, his anger with the brothers was enough to distract him. But eventually, the anger faded, and he was left with not only Dean's overwhelming feelings, but his own as well.

Loneliness ate away at him, bit by bit. He felt it in every muscle, every bone.

Eventually, it eroded his determination to avoid the Winchesters. Rationalizing it as a simple check to see how they were faring, Castiel went to the river one Sunday afternoon many weeks after he'd left them. He landed on the far side of the river, concealing himself in the trees. For all he knew, the brothers brought their angel here regularly. Or maybe they didn't come anymore at all.

He fluffed up his feathers and waited in the freezing cold for well over an hour before there was movement on the far bank.

Dean and Sam emerged from the trees, both carrying backpacks. Warmth suffused Castiel's body at the sight of them, so familiar as they got settled in to eat their lunch. There was no angel with them.

But then the warmth in his chest went frigid. Even if the angel didn't come here today, it could come at any time. And Dean had chosen that angel despite knowing it meant Castiel would leave. Hunching down, Castiel buried himself deeper into his feathery cocoon.

He shouldn't have come here. But he couldn't make himself leave.

For several hours, the Winchester brothers stayed on the icy river bank, reading and talking and arguing. Castiel was far enough away that he couldn't hear what they said over the sound of the water, but he could hear the cadence of their voices. The familiarity was soothing, but it hurt knowing he could never join them.

Castiel stayed at the river even after the brothers had packed up and disappeared through the trees. He stayed until he couldn't feel his fingers or his toes. Finally, he rose stiffly to his feet and flew away to somewhere warmer, but even after his tingling toes had warmed, the cold ache in his heart remained.

For months, he returned to the river on Sunday afternoons to watch Dean and Sam. Every Sunday they came. Every Sunday it hurt more to see them. Several times, he convinced himself not to go – not to put himself through it again. But he always caved at the last minute and returned to the river.

Once, in the spring, he saw what appeared to be a fight between the two boys. After that day, only Dean came.

Just after the peak of summer, Dean missed a day, and Castiel wondered if he'd been sick. But the following week, and all the weeks after, no one came at all. Castiel could have followed the subtle pull that would lead him to Dean, but he didn't dare. Too dangerous. Instead, he continued to go to the river every week through the fall and winter and yet another spring, hoping to catch sight of the Winchesters one more time, but he never did.

Occasionally, Castiel felt volatile emotion from one or both of the brothers, and the urge to go to them became nearly uncontrollable. But the very real threat of their angel kept him away. He wondered bitterly if angels even cared when their humans became distraught or if they were only there to heal injuries and kill demons. And steal demon children.

He wondered if Dean and Sam's angel was their friend. Dean had called it family. But did it feel the same way?

And he wondered if they'd forgotten about Castiel yet.

The empty, yearning ache still ate a hole in his chest, but he was no longer sure if it was Dean's or his own.

Nearly two years after he'd last exchanged words with the Winchester brothers, Castiel was perched comfortably in a tree by a lake shore watching the geese. There were fuzzy goslings toddling all around, following the adults as they swam, ate, and preened. Their antics were an excellent distraction and a balm to his loneliness.

By dusk, the birds had mostly retreated to the water to sleep with their beaks tucked beneath their wings. Castiel was considering moving on when a jolt of shock and pain nearly sent him toppling from his perch. Without thought, he launched himself into the air, racing to the source of the pain. Both Winchesters were injured, but he couldn't feel Sam anymore at all.

He landed amid scattered bits of smashed metal and shattered glass. A pickup appeared to have hit the side of a car. Both vehicles were severely damaged, but Castiel's only concern was for the two figures inside the car, only one of which was moving.

Dean's side of the vehicle had taken less damage, so Castiel ran to the door on that side. He yanked at the handle, but the metal frame was warped from the impact, and the door wouldn't budge.

"Dean!" he shouted, striking the window with his palm in frustration.

Turning toward him, Dean blinked in confusion. "Cas?" came his bleary reply.

Intent on getting into the car, Castiel mostly ignored the chaos of people running and shouting all around them. But when another figure appeared suddenly on the other side of the vehicle, adrenaline flooded hot through his veins.

"Sam!" cried the angel, wrenching at the driver's side door.

Castiel drew his blade and flared his wings. "Angel," he snarled, warning it off.

It looked up from the car door and stumbled back a step in surprise, belatedly drawing its blade. "Holy buckets!" it yelped.

The angel had been startled, giving Castiel a brief advantage. He growled and pressed forward, prepared to defend himself and the Winchesters, too, if needed.

"No! No, don't!" Dean shouted from within the vehicle.

By then, the angel had recovered itself enough to stand ready. Castiel growled again and glared, daring it to make the first move.

"Cas, stop!" Dean cried. "This is Gabriel. He's just here to help Sam. Please!"

Castiel hesitated. But then the angel made a minute shift in weight, and Castiel tensed, ready for its attack.

"Castiel!" Dean's desperate voice stopped him.

The interruption broke his focus on the angel and pulled his attention back to Dean – to his pain and his terror for Sam's life. Castiel suddenly realized that if this really was Sam and Dean's angel, and he stayed to square off against it, no one would heal either of the boys. Sam would die, and it would be Castiel's fault. He couldn't allow that to happen, not ever. So after one last growled threat, he fled.

Now their angel was free to heal them, and they would all go happily home together.

Before, Castiel had been protecting himself by staying away. But now he would be protecting the brothers, too. Never again, he decided with grim determination. No matter what he felt from them, he would never endanger either of the Winchesters like that again.