For the first few days since Cas had left, Dean was ridden with guilt and would pace around the bunker or stem his energy into tapping the rhythms of rock songs. He felt bad about calling Cas and being unable to invite him back to the bunker, but once in a while, he called anyway.

Then he brought up the idea of going out to help Cas with some mundane stuff—like cooking without starting fires.

And for some reason, though Dean never actually visited, things seemed to get better. He stopped fidgeting. He stopped worrying. In fact, Sam noticed Dean had stopped calling, too.

Things might have made more sense to Sam if he could remember—but Gadreel made sure that nobody knew about the nights where he snuck into Dean's room and blocked out a few memories at a time. It was always just enough that Dean never knew the difference, and slowly, he forgot about the former angel. The beacon. The one who could recognize him.

And Gadreel could rest easy, knowing no one would be able to compromise his position.