The day he returned to school, Dean drove with the windows down, delighting in the lightness he felt with the wind flowing over his hand. It was sunny and the few clouds in the sky billowed like some kind of out-of-time postcard: "Greetings from Sioux Falls!". With a start, it occurred to him he was happy.

For the first time in, he couldn't remember how long he wasn't worried about his dad. Sammy was doing really well. Dean was passing all his classes and learning a ton of shit at the garage. Now his hand was back to full usage. Nothing was hunting or haunting him, and he didn't actually hate his life.

And there was Cas.

Dean's smile got away from him just at the thought. Cas had spent two nights with him. In his bed. Sure, Cas had passed out the first night and despite some burgeoning making out, the second night was full of chaste, shy kisses, and exhaustion. They'd said a lot of shit Dean wasn't fully ready to deal with on a conscious level, but laying next to Cas—waking in the night to his warm skin and sleep scent—soothed a whole fucking lot of Dean's worries.

He pulled into the school parking lot, enjoying the looks that the growl of Impala's engine still drew, and parked at the back. He spotted Meg's car and climbed out of his seat with his bag over his shoulder. Dean raced down to meet her and Cas, but as soon as he saw them, Cas threw his arm over her shoulder and kissed her head. She looked up at him with those big, brown eyes and said something so funny it made Cas lean back in a full-body laugh.

Dean stopped moving. He stood in the middle of the parking lot, staring as they walked into the building and disappeared, oblivious of his presence. His recently light chest filled with storm clouds.

"Nice statue impression, Winchester." Charlie bounced to his side and grabbed his hand to pull him along, stopping when he didn't budge. Her face fell when she finally looked at him. "Roht roh, who pissed in your cornflakes?"

"What? No one—it's nothing." Dean frowned and started walking a little too quickly, but that didn't stop Charlie from skipping alongside him, poking at him with her fingers.

"Dude, whatever crawled up your ass must have quills. Spill it."

"Nothing to talk about. Let it go."

"Okay," she sang, too cheery for Dean to believe it. It took about 1.3 seconds before she had grabbed the keys dangling from his fingers and started running.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He took off after her, weaving through the crowd in the hall before first period, chasing after the bright red hair that he spotted ahead. "Charlie!" he screamed after her, elbowing through oblivious teens, hearing nothing but a tinkling giggle in the distance.

When he reached her, he wrapped his arms around her middle and picked her up, spinning her around until she was giggling and slapping his hands.

"Fine!" she squealed, out of breath. "You can have your stupid keys back."

"Thank you," he smirked.

"It's nice to see that smile back, grumpy cat." She handed his keys over with a wink. "You know you can talk to me too, right? Like, I know I'm way cooler than you and it's probably hard to believe I even deign to talk to you, but if you wanna hang out, I'm around."

"We hang out," Dean looked at his feet.

"Yeah, totally, but like just us some time."

Dean threw on the sluttiest look he could muster up and tried to stare at Charlie but couldn't quite make eye contact. "You hittin' on me, Bradbury?"

"Ha, right. As if I'd suck toad dick."

Dean's face lost all expression before he started laughing. "What does that even mean?"

"You know like the princess kisses the toad!"

Dean laughed and his sides hurt so bad he had to lean against the wall of lockers next to them.

"Shut up! I'm witty!" Charlie pouted before hitting him in the arm.

"Yeah, you are," Dean laughed. "But sure, I'd like that. We should hang out more."

"Whenever you have time, between Sam and the garage... and Cas," Charlie said with another wink.

"Yeah," Dean looked down again, feeling the sting of jealousy again. It wasn't that he didn't trust Cas, especially after the last few days. He knew Cas would tell him if there was more between him and Meg; it was more that he was hurt. He wanted to be the one to make Cas laugh and have his arm wrapped around him. He wanted it so much it flared up like nausea and the worst part was that he could have it. Cas wouldn't hesitate if Dean walked up and just took his hand. The whole situation was what Dean said he wanted, and he hated it.

"Where'd you go?" Charlie asked, closer to his face now. Her eyes were full of concern.

"Oz," Dean mumbled before thinking and Charlie snorted.

"You may want to rethink your answer if anyone else asks—before you accidentally out yourself, Dorothy.

Dean's mouth fell open but he had no words to her bluntness.

"So, let's hang out. Maybe one day this week?" She asked breezily with a wink before walking away.

Fuck. Dean was fucking fucked. How many people knew or guessed? He was sure Cas had told Meg, but God love her and her wicked tongue for not saying anything. Lisa had hinted. Was Dean putting himself through all this for nothing?

The bell rang before he could think himself into an aneurism and Dean ran to first period, where he sat next to Garth. Across the room, Cas sat off by himself near the window and gave a crooked smile when their eyes met. Meg had done his eyeliner again and Dean's cock took notice. Dean groaned silently but Cas smirked before looking away.

"Hey there, amigo! You feeling better after your worship of the porcelain gods?" Garth smiled widely like he was ready to hear a play-by-play of every time Dean had thrown up in his entire life, including the chunky details.

"Oh yeah, that was… uh… bad."

"Castiel got it too, huh? Poor guy. He does look a little pale. Maybe he shouldn't be back yet."

"I think he'd rather be here than Chuck's," Dean mumbled without thinking, drawing a concerned look from Garth. Shit, he groans internally. Garth's nice-guy persona covered up a deeply protective streak that could be annoyingly tenacious.

"He's never talked about home—is it bad?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know much, just that he'd rather hang at my house, even with Sammy all up in his business and Bobby being grumpy, than go home for anything other than sleep."

"Hmmm." Garth had a thoughtful look on his face but didn't ask anything else.

After class, Lisa walked past him with a glare but he just rolled his eyes until Cas finally gathered his stuff and joined him.

"How's it goin'?" He laid his hand on Cas's shoulder and let his thumb rub into the groove of his collar bone before pulling away.

"Improving. I slept again last night and now seem to be mostly back to myself."

"Good, that's good."

They stopped at Cas's locker for him to switch out books and Dean leaned next to him, watching. It was hard not to think about Cas's strong hands and thick fingers or the way his lips pinkened when he licked them.

"Dean, you're staring."

"What? Oh…"

"I thought staring was ill-advised and made you uncomfortable. Or is that only when I do it?" Cas raised one eyebrow; his question clearly meant as a challenge.

Dean's ears flushed with heat. "Shut up."

Cas leaned a little closer. "Make me," he whispered before shutting his locker and walking away.

Yep, Dean was definitely fucked.

After school, he grabbed Sammy and went straight to the garage, happy to have his hands on something solid and tangible again. He understood what to do here. Machines made sense—the way they worked together to achieve a goal, pieces moving in fluid coordination to create a whole. He could visualize how the component fit together just by looking at a car, and nine times out of 10, he was right.

Today, he was changing out brake pads and rotors on an old Ford and running parts from salvage for the other guys. Rufus, in particular, seemed to have a cruel streak, asking Dean to fetch obscure (and often unnecessary) parts just to make Dean work to pull it. He loved it, though, the feel of metal against his hands. Bolts coming loose under his efforts and revealing what was hidden beneath. The time passed quickly.

Shower and homework and dinner and sleep. Rinse and repeat. Except for the days Cas could come over. Sam tended to make himself scarce, either hanging with a friend or doing one of his after-school activities that only kids with zero game participated in. Although Dean noticed that Jess's name had been coming up more frequently—he was going to have to ask about that.

Riding home, Cas would hold his hand in the Impala and run his thumbs across Dean's. If they spoke, it was usually just about what had happened that day or the latest gossip. But today, Dean felt nervous with the dark-haired boy, and that relaxed face showed none of the stress Dean fought.

"You gotta stop drawing that symbol in Art, man." Dean tightened his hold on Cas's hand, trying to make him listen.

"No one knows what it is," Cas shrugged. "I can't get it out of my head. It has to mean something."

"Sammy told you what it meant. We know now, so no reason to risk someone noticing. I heard Ms. Blake asking you about it."

"She was complimenting me."

"Yeah, but she asked why that was the only thing you drew. Cas, you're putting yourself in danger doing this. You have to cut it out."

"Every time I draw it, it gets a little bit clearer, though," Cas turned to Dean.

"Then do it at my house, we'll get you some paint or whatever, but you're taking unnecessary risks with this."

Cas lowered his head.

Dean sighed. "I'm not trying to be mean, I just… I worry, okay?"

"Okay, Dean. Thank you for looking out for me." He smiled sweetly and something behind Dean's ribs clenched. God, just that smile made him melt.

They rode for a while, lazily playing with each other's hands and listening to the radio until Dean finally blurted: "I think Charlie knows about us."

Cas turned his head and tilted it in question. Dean could almost hear him say Go on his intention was so clear.

"She said something yesterday about me coming out and us spending so much time together. And she called me Dorothy."

Cas remained silent, his eyes boring into the side of Dean's head as he drove.

"Is that…" he licked his lips. "Is that what you would want—for me to… come out, or whatever?"

"Come out of where?" Cas asked and when Dean looked over, his forehead was wrinkled and his eyes scrunched together in the single most adorable look Dean had seen yet. Stupid fucker made oblivious unreasonably hot.

"No, it… it means to, like, tell people about things. About being with someone."

"When you were with Lisa, did you have to 'come out?'"

"No." He sighed and pulled his hand back to scratch at his cheek. "It's only for gay shit."

"Oh. No—You said you didn't want to do that, so we're not doing that. Why are you bringing it up again?"

"I guess, like if people already know… then what does it matter? I know we agreed to do what I wanted, but I've been thinking—I never even asked what you wanted."

"Dean," Cas waited until he looked over before continuing. "I want you to be happy and comfortable. This is a settled discussion. If you change your mind, that's fine too, but there's nothing for you to worry about until you want to. If you want to tell Charlie, that's fine with me. Just keep me apprised of who knows what so I don't accidentally say something you wouldn't want me to."

Dean relaxed in infinitesimal increments until the knot between his shoulders loosened. He took Cas's hand back in his own. "Thanks, Cas. I... I want you to be happy too, you know?"

"I know," Cas said, unbuckling his seatbelt and scooting closer to Dean to press a kiss to his shoulder. "You don't have to take responsibility for everything. I will tell you if my feelings on this change." He snuggled close and rested his head on Dean's shoulder.

At the stoplight, Dean closed his eyes and dropped his cheek to Cas's head. "Sometimes, I just wish it could be like this all the time."

Cas smiled up at him and kissed him softly before scooting back to his seat as the light turned green.

They pulled in front of the empty house—Bobby and Sammy were off having lives of their own, leaving the house dangerously empty. Cas dropped his bag inside the front door and leaned down to unzip his now-familiar boots. They've done this before—kissed and did homework and listened to music and watched TV. But after their interrupted kiss the other morning, being alone felt charged, and the air between them electric.

Cas didn't say anything before he made his way upstairs to Dean's room, leaving Dean to heave a few breaths before following him. It hadn't been much, but things had definitely changed between them since that morning.

Dean stepped into his room and thrust his hands in his pockets, staring at Cas, who sat serenely on his bed, legs crossed. "You wanna listen to something?"

"I have no opinion either way," Cas stated, leaving Dean floundering.

"Cas?"

"I'd like to kiss you." Cas stood, rising from his position on the bed in one smooth motion, and placed both hands on Dean's chest, the contact fritzing the neurons necessary for complex thought. "Music isn't necessary for that."

"No, I guess it's not."

Cas smirked. "Would you be amenable to that?"

"Well, when you sweep me off my feet like that, how can I resist?" Dean chuckled with affection. "What are you waiting for? An engraved invitation?"

Cas's eyes darkened, the black eyeliner making them shine bluer than ever. His eyes locked on Dean's mouth, coiled power and focused intention clear with each movement.

Dean lifted his chin, letting Cas come to him, exerting a moment of control before Cas touched him because once that happened, it seemed like he lost all ability to think or do anything other than chase Cas's lips.

Cas placed a warm hand on Dean's neck and leaned up to kiss him, lips pressed softly but firmly. Soon, he had Dean leaning back against his dresser as he peppered kisses along the side of Dean's neck, resting hands lightly on his hips. So far, it was the same as any other kiss they'd shared, with one exception. Dean followed Cas's lead, but god—he wanted to feel his hands on Cas's skin and taste him again.

Cas hummed against Dean's neck before licking along the muscle running up the side and biting him just under the ear.

"Fuck Cas," Dean moaned, hanging onto the edge of the dresser to keep himself in check.

"Dean," Cas elongated his name, stretching it out and filling the sound with desire. He moved one thumb under Dean's shirt and stroked his skin, sending shockwaves through Dean with each swipe. "Why are your hands on your dresser?" he breathed against Dean's ear.

"I'm… you… I don't want to…"

"You don't want to touch me?" Cas mumbled through kisses against the underside of Dean's jaw before returning to chew on his neck.

"I… I do… I just… I'm trying to… I don't know if you want to…"

Cas bit down at the place where his neck met shoulder. "I want you to." Cas's hands squeezed Dean's hips as he returned to Dean's mouth. His hands slipped under Dean's shirt and ran up and down his sides, fingers dragging along his ribs.

Dean leaned forward, deepening their kiss, and let himself be pulled into the undertow of Cas's touch. He licked along Cas's lips, tasting his fresh, clean flavor. They nibbled and wrapped their tongues together. Dean had his hands under Cas's shirt, running them down his back, gripping tight as Cas pulled a gasp from his lips with a brush of his fingers over Dean's nipple.

Dean reached down and grabbed Cas's ass, pulling him hard against his thigh. The hot outline of Cas's half-plumped cock made Dean bold. He squeezed Cas's ass and curled forward around his body. His height advantage let him wrap around Cas and pull him up tight against him from thighs to lips. The hardness of Cas's hip against his thickening cock was delicious.

Cas pulled back and Dean whined in his throat until Cas pulled his shirt off. Fuck. He was all muscle and sinew, and Dean wanted to suck and bite and mark every part of him. All gorgeous skin and sharp lines, Cas was unlike anything he'd ever seen before.

His hands trembled as he pulled off his own shirt and roughly pulled Cas back into his lips. Kissing those wide pink lips was no longer optional. Dean resisted cornering Cas and taking his mouth with his every time they talked at school—he wasn't about to go a second longer than necessary without tasting him now.

Cas gasped at the contact of skin against skin and Dean moved his hands to Cas's sides, digging his nails in so Cas couldn't disappear and blip out into the ether. Dean wasn't letting go this time. He was never going to let Cas go.

Dean walked Cas backward, never releasing his hold or lessening the pressure of his kiss. At the bed, he moved over Cas, pushing him down to the bed, maneuvering them so Dean could finally settle himself on top of Cas's body.

"Oh, God," Dean moaned when he laid his weight down on top of Cas and thrust mindlessly a few times against Cas's hip, dragging his thigh along Cas's now fire-hot cock. Their kiss turned to mostly biting and open mouths pressed together as they panted each other's names on their lips.

Cas rolled them to their sides and, as the friction grew, gripped Dean's cock through his jeans. "You are… You feel…" Cas mumbled against Dean's neck as he stroked hard and fast. The friction of hand and jeans and flesh was too much, but he needed it like he needed air. He felt like he and Cas were flying, hurtling through the sky together.

Dean let his fingers work open the button on Cas's pants. "Can I… I want to touch you…" Dean panted hard, Cas's mouth working over his neck wet and hungry.

Cas shuddered against Dean, thrusting hard against him and fisting one hand into Dean's hair and pulling. "Yes," he hissed, squeezing Dean's erection.

Dean fumbled through unzipping Cas's pants and pushing them down off his hips before shoving his hand unceremoniously into Cas's underwear and taking the soft, overheated flesh of his cock into his hand. One of them made a strangled noise, maybe both of them, at the feeling of skin against skin. The angle was awkward and his wrist twisted all wrong, but the instant he had his fingers around Cas, they both exhaled hard and lifted their lips again for a deep kiss.

Dean worked his hand over Cas as much as he could but mostly just held on, letting Cas fuck into his fist, skin sliding against calloused fingers. Dean pulled his hand up and over the tip, gentle with the sensitive flesh as he dragged Cas's pre-come down over his shaft.

"Dean, Dean, Dean," Cas chanted mindlessly like a prayer against Dean's damp neck.

Warmth unfurled deep inside him, spreading across his body. Need pressed him on and it was no longer frantic, but something else—something small and fluttering gasping to life inside him. Something beautiful. "God," he groaned as Cas's cock pulsed in his hand, thickening and quivering as Dean tightened his hold.

With a roar, Cas thrust up against Dean, rolling on top of him and fucking into Dean's trapped hand like his life depended on it, grinding against Dean's cock hard and fast, pulling them both toward an inevitable precipice.

Cas came hot and thick over Dean's hand, the pulsing release short-circuiting Dean's mind as the feeling threw him over the edge. He came clutching Cas with one hand, lifting their weight off the bed with his hips as he thrust hard one last time.

"Fuck, Cas," He whispered, pulling his hand free and wiping it on the sheets of his unmade bed he was going to have to change later.

They kissed again, this time slow and sweet like their tongues were savoring each other in a way they'd been too rushed to do before.

"Yes. Fuck," Cas replied breathlessly.

Once they'd cleaned themselves up, they clamored downstairs so Dean could start making dinner. Throughout the afternoon, they kissed and teased, touching at every opportunity. When Cas's hands began to work their way into Dean's pants as he chopped onions for the stuffed peppers he was making, Dean whimpered.

"Cas, I'm going to cut myself," he laughed.

"I'm sorry, is this distracting?" Cas kissed the back of his neck, running his hands over Dean's shirt.

"Extremely," Dean set down the knife and turned around in the circle of Cas's arms. "You are a menace." He scowled and Cas laughed, open and free.

Dean dropped a kiss to Cas's lips and returned to chopping onions.

"Why don't you stop being a distraction and help for once?"

Cas leaned against the counter and crossed his arms, looking at Dean. "I don't eat. Why should I cook?"

"I don't know. You could cook to be nice? You know, for your boyfriend who has to eat and who you spend all your time with."

"Oh him? Yeah, maybe I'll cook for him. He's pretty great. I think you'd get along well."

Dean snarls and lifts the knife he's now dicing garlic with. "I will cut you."

"Okay, I can heal that easily."

"Not if I drive it into your heart." Dean mumbles and Cas laughs again freely. God, he loves that sound.

The front door opened with a bang. Bobby and Sam's voices could be heard coming from the other room.

"Ohhh, you're cookin'! Excellent. Whatcha makin'?" Bobby asked with a smile.

"Stuffed Peppers, if this asshat here would stop being a pain in the ass and let me get everything ready."

Bobby snickered. "You stayin' for dinner, Castiel?"

"I wouldn't mind sitting with you while you eat if that's okay."

"Yeah—no reason to make yourself eat on account of us," Bobby nodded and sat with a groan at the kitchen table. "That must be hard to keep up at Chuck's."

"It does present a challenge. The food there looks much less appetizing than what you have here, so eating is often downright disgusting." Cas grimaced.

"Grab me a beer, wouldja?" Bobby nodded to Cas before he leaned down and started to unlace his shoes.

"Did Sammy head upstairs?" Dean asked as he turned on the stove and let the oil in the pan heat up.

"Yep. Said he had homework, but he spent the whole drive from Brady's house smiling and texting into that contraption you call a phone."

Dean laughed and set to browning the meat and mixing in spices. Soon the kitchen smelled delicious.

"I agree, Bobby. As much as it's convenient to text now and then, it's much less personable. I'd rather see people in person." Cas hands Bobby his beer and sits down at the table, sliding into the seat he usually took without hesitation.

"Used to be, I got my news from a newspaper. Now I need a different app for the weather and sports and actual news. There's so many stupid apps on that phone I can't find what I'm looking for half the time." Bobby grumbles.

"Yes! I struggled with that, too. Meg showed me how to search for an app without having to scan through all of them. All you do is…"

Dean looked back at them, talking about the mysteries of modern technology like two bewildered old men and smiled. It was so adorable but also so damn sincere. He wanted to pull out his phone and take a picture but knew both of them would probably complain. And the thought of them both fussing at him made him chuckle before turning back to the meat and adding the rest of the ingredients to mix.

When he finally had the peppers stuffed and in the oven, Cas and Bobby had migrated to the living room and were going through some of Bobby's older books. Cas had no problem understanding what he read as usual but seemed to come no closer to answers of his own.

"Whatever I am must be a highly guarded secret."

"If that's the case, why leave you in bumfuck nowhere to get caught up in the system? There's gotta be somethin' we're missin'."

Dean sat down on the new (to them) couch that his dad had definitely not paid for.

Cas worried his hands and Dean leaned forward. He only did that when he was about to say something he was nervous about the response to. "I'd like to try going in the panic room again. If that's okay with you, Bobby."

"I don't see no harm in it, but do you really think it'll help?" Bobby lifted his hat and ran his hand over his thinning hair before placing the hat back.

"I don't know. Last time Dean pulled me out before much happened."

Dean frowned. "It was fuckin' freaky, dude."

"I know, I'm not upset with you. But since then, the noise has been more constant, closer. I wonder if Sam's right about 'tuning' me."

"After dinner then," Bobby said, slapping his thighs and standing up. "After dinner, we'll put you in there and shut the door, so if you go nuclear, it's contained. I don't know what that light is, but it gives me pause. If we do this, we do it careful. I don't want anyone getting hurt."

"I'm staying in with him," Dean said, staring hard at Bobby.

"Should've figured. You're all kinds of stupid for this boy, ain't ya?"

Dean smiled and blushed before looking over at Cas under his lowered lids. "I think I kinda like him."

"Idjits," Bobby said and walked back to the kitchen to get his beer and flip the laundry.

After dinner, all four of them head downstairs. Dean made a play for Cas needing to be naked for this, like in Terminator and how they can only time travel naked, but he's met with a chorus of rolled eyes.

"I never should have shown you those movies, Cas. They're wasted on you.

"We agree," Cas said blandly. "You never should have shown them to me."

Sam went in first, too eager and bouncing like a rabbit to possibly try to hold still. He pushed the furniture against the walls and pulled up the rug like he did last time.

Cas didn't say anything and just watched impassively, but Dean's learned that means he's shut himself down, so he doesn't have to feel whatever is going on inside him.

Dean took his hands and intertwined their fingers without a word.

When Sam came back, Cas let go of Dean and walked in without even a squeeze. Dean's chest ached for him—dude must really be nervous.

"You should close the door before I go in the circle," Cas said as he stepped over the rim of the safehouse door. "Last time the light from my eyes was too intense, I imagine it will get even stronger the longer I'm in there. Look away when that happens. I don't want anyone hurt."

"Alright, son. We'll be fine," Bobby reassured him with a thin smile. "I got everything out here covered. You take care of in there. As soon as you step out of that circle, we'll come in and get'cha okay?"

Cas nodded and Bobby closed the door with a clang and latched it tight.

"I'm rethinking this plan," Dean mutters, running a hand over the top of his head.

"What do you think the chances are that if we tell him not to do this, he'll just draw that symbol somewhere else and end up gettin' himself hurt or hurtin' someone else on accident?" Bobby reasoned.

Dean nodded. That's what he would do if he was in Cas's position and someone told him not to do the only thing that might give him answers.

Before he could think much more about it, Cas's bluish-white light glowed from inside the room. Cas closed his eyes, but the glow didn't stop, coming from beneath his lids, out of his mouth, and flowing from his palms. Soon the light enveloped him, wrapping around him and obscuring Dean's vision. The light was hot to look at and Dean's senses were filled with freshly fallen snow; the taste, the smell, even the cool breeze.

Something rustled as if something were in the room with Cas. Dean narrowed his eyes and tried to get a clearer look, but all he saw was the sparking of lights, bulbs bursting, and glass shattering.

Cas screamed, a wail, but he didn't sound in pain, and then the light changed and blasted out of Cas's chest.

Dean, Sam, and Bobby woke in the dark basement lying on the floor in front of the panic room's now open door.

Cas stood before them, impassive.

"Pray." his voice was flat.

"What?" Sam's voice quivered.

"Pray, Montana. That is where I must go." Cas walked past their recovering bodies and climbed the stairs.

Dean scrambled to his feet to follow behind the quickly moving Castiel. "Hey, hey, Cas, what are you talking about? What happened in there?"

Cas tilted his head as if he were considering why Dean would be attempting to speak to him. He looked at him like he was an ant, something too small and insignificant to understand who he addressed.

"I got my answer. The voices all agreed, Pray Montana was the way home."

"Okay, then, we'll go. I mean, spring break is in a week, right? Chuck won't care if we go on a road trip, will he?" Dean reached forward but Cas's hand was cool and unresponsive.

Cas's eyes narrowed at him. "I can go now."

"No, man! You have school tomorrow and you can't just blip wherever you want all the time. Let's take the Impala and drive out there. It's—what,12 hours? We can do that in one long day if we trade-off driving, or just do it on two easier days. We could even leave on Friday after school and be there by midday on Saturday. Plenty of time to look around and figure out where you're supposed to go."

Cas turned away and started toward the door.

Sam and Bobby stood behind Dean, equally dumbstruck.

"This place—it isn't for you," Cas said, still facing away.

"Okay, but like, you shouldn't go alone. You might need back up."

Cas snorted in derision.

Dean turned to Bobby and Sam only to find them standing there with open mouths and wide eyes. What the fuck happened to Cas in that damn panic room?

"Cas—hey, Cas." He walked up and moved around his so they were facing each other again before putting one hand on Cas's cheek, rubbing at his cheekbone with his thumb. "Please, you have to tell me what you heard."

"Pray, Montana." Cas interrupted.

"Right, yeah, but something else happened in there—you're not acting like yourself. Cas, don't go alone. Please. Don't just disappear when—I'm here for you—we all are." He swallowed then added quietly, "I need you."

Cas's eyes flicked to his and seemed to focus for the first time. "That's the way home."

"I know—I heard you. We'll get you home. Just work with me a little here, okay?"

Over Cas's shoulder, he could see Bobby thinking hard and Sam leaning against the older man. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Sam was only 13. He was so smart and strong and had seen so much shit he seemed older, but standing there, seeking out the comfort of Bobby's strength, made him look like he was a little kid again.

"I should go," Cas said.

Dean reached out again. "Are you sure you're good to go back to Chuck's?"

"Chuck's," Cas looked down and looked like he was chewing on the word. "No, that isn't home."

"Right, Pray, Montana. But not today, remember. Friday."

"Maybe," Bobby coughed and pulled everyone's attention to his quiet authority. "Maybe it would be a good night for Castiel to stay here."

"Yes! Castiel. That is my name."

"See, that's what I mean, that's not a normal kinda thing to go around sayin' and until you have your head back on, I'm a little worried about you going out on your own." Dean pushed, hoping robot Cas could at least see the logic in what he said.

"To Pray, Montana." Cas corrected.

"Yeah, exactly. I'm worried about that with you acting all memory wiped. Maybe some sleep will help you reset."

"I don't sleep."

"Okay—I, uh, misspoke. Maybe some rest then. Do you rest?" Bobby asked.

"Yes, at times, it can be refreshing to meditate for a few hours in the quiet."

"Perfect. Why don't you meditate here till morning and then we'll talk about getting you to-"

"Pray, Montana." Cas interrupted.

"-Pray, Montana, right."

"That is acceptable. I trust your judgment, Bobby, as you knew my real name."

Bobby huffed, raising his eyebrows, "Well yeah, kid, you practically live here."

Cas hummed non-committedly.

What the FUCK, Sam mouthed as Cas turned to sit on the couch.

"Cas? You usually sleep or meditate or whatever upstairs with Sam and me." Dean approaches him cautiously, worried that if he spooked him, Cas would disappear to exactly the place he desperately doesn't want to hear him say again. That's right, boys and girls, Pray, Montana.

"Oh, yes. I will watch over you."

"No, like, you can meditate there while we sleep. Or…" Dean flushed. "You usually lay down with me."

Bobby coughed and looked to the ceiling with a huff.

Cas looked Dean in the eyes again, and they almost looked like a thin mist across his eyes, it moved slightly, changing between thicker and thinner, but Dean wasn't sure why.

"Or if you want, you can braid Sam's hair and we can call it a slumber party," Dean joked, because what the fuck else is he supposed to do?

"Sam and I are gonna turn in," Bobby grabbed Sam's arm and practically hauled him away. "You know where I sleep, so if ya need anything, don't hesitate, but Castiel, don't go flittin' off on your own. We'll make a plan together and get you where you need to go."

"I promise, Bobby," Cas said. The first glimmer of hope Dean's had since they woke up to robot Cas.

When they were gone, Dean sat next to Cas and put a hand on his shoulder. Cas turned toward him with a raised eyebrow and Dean was a little afraid that the healing light from his eyes might also be a deathray.

"Cas… uh, Castiel, do you remember me?"

"Yes, you use a shortened version of my name."

"Yeah, that's called a nickname. You do that for people who are your friend. Who you care about. Do you remember being my friend?" Dean leaned forward, watching the mist thin.

"Yes," he said dreamily like he was talking through a bank of clouds.

"Good. I'm glad you remember that. That means a lot to me. We're gonna figure this out and get you back to yourself."

"This is myself," Cas corrected. I need to get to…"

"Pray, Montana."

"Yes," Cas said. "That's the way home."

"And where is home?" Dean asked, watching doubt and confusion wash across Cas's features.

"I don't know that."

Dean hummed a little. "Don't you think maybe that's important?"

"I'm confused. The voices were very clear." Cas's brows came together, giving him a crease in his forehead.

"We don't know who the voices are, though. But you know I'm your friend. So until you remember more or know more, I'm asking you to trust me, ok, Castiel? Can you trust me?"

"Of course, Dean," he said without hesitation and Dean smiled, realizing he'd never told Cas his name.