Chapter 48.

Dean looked at Cas. He looked too tired and weak. Even his coat seemed shabby and creased. "You sure you don't need that sandwich?" he said.

"I don't feel like eating." said Cas. Of course he didn't. He hated conflict.

"I'm sorry." said Dean.

"You have every right to be angry with me." said Cas.

"No, I don't. Head still hurt?"

"Yes."

"How weak are you? If you had to angel-up, could you?"

"Briefly and unimpressively." said Cas, "I know it was bad timing."

"It always is. There's never a good time for you to be powerless." He saw the guilty look in Cas's eyes, the way his shoulders slumped when he spoke like that. He needed another approach. "Do you remember the cabin?" he said.

Cas looked at him. "I forget nothing, do you imagine I'd start by forgetting that?"

"It was rough, I know."

"Worse for you than for me."

"I'm not sure about that, but however bad it got, you stuck with me. You didn't walk away, just because it hurt. I faced the worst things in my head and you were right there beside me, all the way."

"It was a privilege."

"Well, now I want the same privilege. I need to help you, Cas. And if you can't tell me everything, I'll hate that, but I'll live with it. Whatever secrets you're keeping, whatever you've done or will do that I might think is wrong or dangerous or dumb, in the end it all comes down to one thing: you're my friend and I need to be in all your battles, even if I don't know what we're fighting or why."

"Yet you keep asking."

"Yeah, I keep asking, because the questions are screaming in my head and because I know you don't keep secrets unless they're big, terrible secrets. You still have that lighter?"

Cas took it out of his pocket.

"Read what it says there."

"Lux tua, vita mihi." said Cas.

"You see any questions on there?"

"No."

"No. You know why? Because the questions come and go. They're panic responses, half the time. They come from the part of my mind I have no control over. The four words on that lighter ... the stuff that was real enough to engrave permanently ... that's the truth."

"I know it is." said Cas, holding the lighter as if it were a holy relic.

"And all the shouting and yelling and all the hurtful things I say ... Under all of that, forever, is that truth. I can't be calm and rational when I know you're in danger. I can't make fine speeches and be like Sarah and Sam with all that supportive, unconditional ... whatever."

"You do make some good speeches." said Cas.

Dean paused for a moment, wondering if he should find that as weird and funny as he did. "I'm not Sam." he said.

"No," said Cas, "And Sam isn't you."

"Whatever that means." said Dean, "My point is that I'm not in control of what I say or think or feel, because I can't be, because when you're threatened, I wanna kill whoever is posing the threat. I wanna paint the walls with his blood and leave his entrails on the rug."

Cas was smiling.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"Have I ever laughed at you?"

Dean went on, forcing himself to speak, even though it felt safer just to shut up and never admit this stuff. "The problem is, the one putting you in danger is you."

"So your problem is that decorating the room with my viscera ... "

"Yeah, not really a solution, this time."

"So you eviscerate me verbally?"

"So I freak out and I get irrationally angry with the person I least wanna hurt. Does that make sense? I mean, I know it makes no kind of sense, but do you understand the concept?"

Cas nodded. "I do."

"Good." said Dean.

"And thanks."

"For the verbal evisceration?" said Dean.

"For the cogent explanation. For caring how I feel."

"You're welcome."

"We don't talk about the cabin much."

"Not my finest hour."

"I think you sometimes forget you went there because I asked you to keep your promise about discussing Hell."

"I never forget that."

"Fine, but you don't give yourself enough credit for it or maybe you're not clear on what it means to me that you would do that because I asked it. You sometimes talk like you can't show how much you care, like there's something wrong with you that prevents it. The truth is, you show it in deeds, not words. Everything I've ever asked of you, you have done, even when it hurt. Even when it cost you almost everything."

"When you were asking for Heaven, I often didn't."

"True, but that wasn't me asking. You've been a true friend to me and I don't want you to think that I didn't notice."

"Ditch the past tense. It makes me nervous."

"Okay, that I don't notice and you are a true friend. I had no idea what friendship was until I found you and Sam. I didn't know how it could feel to walk into a room and see someone who was pleased that I was there. I also didn't know how much it would hurt when that friend said I was wrong and stupid."

"I'm sorry." said Dean again.

"Don't be. I have been both, many times and often, listening to you would have saved me a lot of regret."

"I don't suppose telling you to tell me everything would work?"

"If I could tell you what I can't tell you, I would. Keeping anything from you feels wrong. It adds a bitter taste to everything."

"For me too." said Dean.

"But I still can't tell you."

"Tell me you're not leaving or making some stupid sacrifice."

"I told you, I will never leave you by choice."

"I'd be happier if you left off the last two words."

"I'd be happier if I could."

"If you can't tell me, you can't tell me. I can't stop wondering ... probably won't stop asking ... but I get it. I've kept a few secrets myself."

"More than a few." said Cas.

"Struggling to remember one that didn't turn out to be a mistake." said Dean.

Cas put the lighter back into his pocket. He said nothing.

"Because, you know," said Dean, "Whatever's on your mind, you have people here who would help you."

"Yes, I do."

"And in the Pact, you did swear not to decide your problems were not our problems and keep us out of them."

"Yes, I did and if you consider me in breach of the Pact, I am truly sorry."

"Yeah, not really the point." said Dean.

"The Pact does say we will all break it."

"Yes."

"And that, when we do, the other two will forgive."

"Yes."

"Can you forgive this, Dean?" He looked sad and anxious, craving a word of comfort. A little cruelty, some harsh truths, might break him and make him tell, but Dean could not do that.

"I forgive it. I don't understand it, but I forgive it."

"Thanks."

"Now, you should go eat. Eat and rest and get strong again, so we can argue some more."

"Quite the incentive." said Cas. His eyes smiled.

Dean stood and unlocked the door. "And you're gonna need to talk to Sarah."

"I'd really rather not."

"You want another hour in here, with me?" said Dean threateningly.

"I should talk to Sarah." said Cas. As he was leaving, he turned back and said, "Fine speeches, by the way."

"Get!" said Dean, but he was smiling.