AN: We're coming up on the end, people! Buckle your seat belts.
Dean shoved past John and stalked up the stairs. He avoided looking at the corpses of all the various monsters in the cages, acid curdling in his gut. He didn't want to be reminded what kind of conditions Cas had been kept in these last few weeks. Caged, like a pet.
Dean didn't expect to feel this way after finding Cas. Things were supposed to be okay. They were supposed to be together.
Now they were apart again. And they had to be apart, at least until John packed his shit and hit the road, and Dean didn't have to worry about John hurting Cas again. If he could help it, he wouldn't let John anywhere near Cas ever again.
Just hang out somewhere safe, Cas Dean prayed. We gotta settle somethings with Dad, but it won't take long.
Dean thought about asking Cas if he knew an angel named Naomi, and then decided against it. Dragging Cas into angel things was always a bad idea; Dean would rather Cas never come near another angel ever again. That never worked out well for anyone.
Dean heard Sam and John's heavy footsteps behind him. Dean didn't look back until he was out the front door of Magnus's house, looking forward at the setting sun. It would be dark in just a few more minutes. Dean wondered where Cas had gone.
Sam and John came outside. Dean and Sam sat on the bottom of the porch steps.
"Tell us everything you know," Dean said. He listened as John spoke of the strange dream he had three days ago, and how the angel Naomi claimed she had brought John back to life for the sole purpose of killing Castiel. Then John flushed a deep red and backtracked as he explained he'd seen flashes of a strange, stern looking woman who seemed to appear and disappear into thin air ever since he woke up, alive.
"But," Dean said, anger surging through him, "Cas asked you if you were seeing anything strange. You told him you weren't."
"I lied," John spat.
"Why?" Dean was near hysteria, his voice cracking.
John at least had the decency to look somewhat ashamed. "I didn't trust it."
Dean groaned and buried his face in his hands.
"Cas is not an "it"", he screamed into his hands.
"This isn't the kind of shit you lie about," Sam said. By his tone, he was just as pissed as Dean was. "You could have saved all of us a lot more trouble had you just told the truth from the beginning!"
"Really? I would've saved you trouble?" John said. He snorted. "The angel still would've been hanging around and—"
Dean couldn't take it. He stood to his feet and glared at his father, hand clenched into a tight fist. It took every iota of his self-control not to smash it into his dad's face. John still had fading bruises around his face from the last time they saw each other, just a few days ago; when John admitted to selling Cas to get him away from Sam and Dean.
And Dean couldn't lie; it had felt good, punching his dad. The hit had twenty years of pent up rage behind it, quid pro quo for everything John did to Dean's childhood.
But Dean was tired of being angry. It was a poison. It made him do stupid things, and it hurt himself and the people around him.
And Dean also wanted to be a better man than his father; a man who didn't need to use his fists to solve every problem. Dean chewed on his lower lip.
"Look," Dean said, tonelessly. "I'm past it, okay? I don't care what you think Cas is or isn't—Sammy and I know the truth, and the truth, whether you like it or not—Cas is family. He's been lookin' out for me and Sammy ever since we met. He's been there more for us in six years than you were my entire life. And you're just gonna have to deal with that. Got it?"
John wanted to say something—Dean knew that look. But John just swallowed.
"What are we going to do about Naomi?" John said.
"Maybe we can put a bullet from the Colt through her head," Dean said in mock cheerfulness. "I mean, you shot Cas, right? What's stopping you from shooting this feathered freak?"
"Dean, Naomi is powerful," John said through gritted teeth. "Naomi is stronger than your winged pet—"
"No," Dean snapped. "You don't get to say anything bad about Cas. You want our help, fine. But you play by our rules, got it?"
John's jaw ticked. "Yes," he said.
"And Dad?" Sam spoke up from his spot on the steps. "Um, Cas isn't weak. Not a bit. He could kill you with a snap of his fingers—he's just not a complete dick and chooses not to."
Dean huffed and looked back to his Dad. Dad had no clue how bad all the other angels actually were: selfish, greedy, maniacal. Cas could be a pig headed son of a bitch, but he cared, unlike every other dick with wings they'd come across. If Dad really was going to stay on this train of believing Cas was evil, he was going to be in for a sorry surprise when he learned otherwise.
The sun had set, and they were cast in darkness. Dean checked his watch and had to bring his wrist nearly to his face to be able to read it. It was just past eight o clock—they had four hours to find this Naomi angel and ice her ass—and once that was done, Dean, Sam and Cas would go their way, John could go his, and if they never crossed paths for the rest of their lives, well, Dean wouldn't be too torn up about it. He couldn't be, not after what John did to Cas. Dean wouldn't ever be able to forgive John for the shit he put on Dean as a child, but he could look past; it he had too, most of the time, to be able to take care of Sammy and focus on what was important: the hunts, saving people and killing monsters.
But this wasn't something that could be forgiven, or looked past. It was one thing for John to hurt Dean; it was a whole other for him to hurt someone else, be it Sam or Cas, or some other innocent person. Dean wouldn't stand for it.
"Well," Dean said, "what's the plan then?" The sooner they dealt with this Naomi bitch, the sooner they could be on their way, John once again just a shrinking image in the Impala's rearview mirror.
"Do we have the supplies for a summoning?" Sam asked.
"Don't know," Dean said, shrugging. "We got a jug of holy oil, though." Dean looked back to John. "I mean, we used to have two, but unfortunately, something happened to other one. Any ideas where that other jug went, Dad?"
John's face remained terse.
Dean huffed.
"Dean," Sam said. Sam's voice was taut. "Look, I'm pissed too, but we're gonna have to work together to defeat this angel. Stow the crap."
Dean knew Sam was right. He and Sam, and even he and Cas, have had their share of massive shitstorms and had to put it all behind them to move forward and focus on the task at hand, put all their attention on the new disaster they had to deal with.
But this…something about this, and his Dad, just went deep down into the tattered remains of his soul and it stung. He couldn't take his mind away from how Cas—wanting to establish a friendship with John- had gone with John that night expecting to have some kind of deep, soulful talk, only to get attacked and sold like chattel to a psychopath. And he couldn't take his mind away from how Cas could have done something, could have defended himself and hurt John very badly with hardly any effort on his part, and he didn't, because Cas didn't want to hurt people, and he especially didn't want to hurt John.
John had betrayed Cas's trust. He had betrayed Dean and Sam's. And it wasn't like the times when Team Free Will betrayed each other's trust because…
Because John was Dean's dad. Dean had looked up to him, idolized him, wanted to be just like his father when he grew up. John was supposed to know better. Because when Dean was a child, John could never screw up.
Dean supposed one of the worst things that ever happened to him, before he went to Hell, was discovering that his Dad was just as human as the rest of them.
"We're wasting time," John eventually said. Even in the dark, Dean could see his father's reddened cheeks, and he wondered if it was from rage of the wind chill.
"Let's look in the car," Dean said, turning away. "See if we got the ingredients to do a summoning. If we do, we'll set up a ring of holy fire, and be on our separate way before the fat lady sings, how about that?"
Dean didn't get to see John's reaction. He stomped towards the Impala. It was eerily quiet for nighttime; Dean couldn't hear a single cricket, or owl, no passing cars; it was like they were trapped in a vacuum.
Dean hoped wherever Cas was, he was safe.