Cas glanced around Bobby's house, between all the small sigils that'd been meant to ward off angels. They weren't for Raphael. They were for him. And right now, he wanted to look at anything except the look on Dean's face—the doubt, the pain, all hidden behind anger as he finished saying, "Or I'll have to do what I have to do to stop you."

His vision blurred, just the slightest. "Would you kill me?"

The room went silent. They watched each other, watched their eyes.

"Would you kill me?" Dean echoed back, softer and more hesitantly.

He dropped his gaze. "I just wish you'd listen."

"Why? Because you're an angel? You don't want to listen to us. So, what? You think if we don't come around that we're just too weak to stop it?"

"You're strong individuals."

"I don't see you taking any precautions. I'm serious, Cas—this has gotta stop before it goes too far. We can't let you do this."

Dean had been trying to catch his eye for a while now, and Cas finally met his gaze. "I could never bring myself to hurt any of you. I'm sorry I got you into this conflicting position. … I'm… I'm sorry, Dean."

And then he fled—flew off, because he was too afraid to know what kind of reply he'd get.