Dean fortunately had the foresight to give Cas a phone, so Sam said he could theoretically track Cas through that. Unfortunately, it was one of the old ones with no GPS. His brother told him it was fine, he could just look at phone records for any calls Cas made. Even more unfortunately, Cas rarely made any calls. (Dean twinged with guilt when Sam mentioned this. He remembered a vague promise to call Cas when he kicked him out, but Dean never did.)

The few phone calls he did make was to some woman named Nora, which turned out to be Cas's (or rather, Steve's) boss at a Gas-n-Sip. He was only there for a month, working as a 'Sales Associate', before quitting, she answered as Sam and Dean (Private Investigators Smith and Smith) questioned her about 'Steve'.

"He stayed until a week or so after he told me he was quitting so I could find a replacement. I'm gonna miss him. He was such a hard worker," Nora said.

"Did he give you any reason why he quit?" Sam asked.

"Not really… he just said he was going on a 'road trip'."

Dean stared at her. "A road trip."

"Yeah. Maybe with that guy—"

"What guy?" growled Dean with a ferocity that startled Nora enough she took a step back. He saw Sam in the corner of his eye frowning at him (Dean ignored him) and repeated the question, although this time with a more neutral tone. "What guy?"

"Well… there was this guy who always comes by at least once during Steve's shifts. Mostly they talk. I figured he was a new friend he made, because Steve looked a lot less lonely compared to when he started working here."

Dean's jaw clenched. He closed his eyes too, because even he couldn't ignore the epic bitchface Sam was pointing at his general direction. It was the least he deserved, but he didn't want to deal with any of that right now so he just walked out of the store. He heard his brother apologizing to Nora about Dean's behaviour before the store doors closed with a soft tinkle.

He didn't have to wait long sitting inside the Impala, fingers tapping listlessly at the wheel before Sam slid into the passenger's seat.

"I asked Nora a few more questions about the guy Cas was friends with—"

"Definitely an angel or another reaper for hire—" Sam glared at him, his face saying, you're gonna shut the fuck up and listen, so Dean shut his mouth.

"I don't think so. I mean, Nora said they've been friends for what, a month? If it was angels they would have kidnapped him immediately. The guy's most likely human."

It was Dean's turn to make a face, shooting an incredulous look towards his brother. "Are you even hearing yourself, Sammy? Cas going off with some… some guy doesn't make any fucking sense!"

Sam sighed and slumped against the seat's backrest. "He's alone, Dean. Cas is fully human for starters, not just cut off from his powers like he was during the Apocalypse. Emotions must have been a bitch to deal with. Nora—she mentioned she'd catch Cas sometimes just… staring at his phone. So yeah, he probably got lonely."

Dean gripped the wheel tighter and looked away. He should have been surprised he could feel any more guiltier than he already has, but his capacity for self-loathing and taking all the blame for himself was so great that it didn't. (A small part of him was, in fact, kind of proud.) He could see it in his mind's eye with a clarity that felt way too real: Cas waiting for a call that never came, because Dean Winchester was too afraid.

He can't even be angry at Cas for not taking the initiative and calling first. The idiot probably assumed Dean didn't want anything to do with him. (Not that Dean did anything to make Cas think otherwise.)

Sometimes Dean wished (though he'll never admit it out loud) that he was good with words. That he was good at talking about feelings and all the shit Dean usually represses and keeps locked and tight in the furthest reaches of his being.

"Anyway, I was thinking… maybe we could call Charlie. She might come up with something I haven't thought of," Sam said, interrupting Dean's train of thought.

"Uh yeah… go call her. I'll… I'll drive us back to the bunker."

Ethan was humming, his fingers tapping the wheel as he tried to drive as slow as possible without making it obvious he was doing so. He was in a good mood. The hunt was over, the werewolf was dead, and there was a really hot guy by the name of Cas (he was fine with the nickname, although he had this sad, wistful look on his face the first time he mentioned it) in the passenger seat of his car. He was glancing every now and then towards Ethan, and it was making the hunter's heart beat a little bit faster like a smitten teenage girl. (He didn't mind the the comparison at all, because seriously, even a straight guy would feel like a smitten teenage girl with those eyes. And that face.)

Cas glanced at him and said, "I like that song you're humming." (And that voice.)

The hunter looked at his side, grinning. "Really?"

"It reminds me of… a friend." Cas turned away and looked through the rolled down car window. He was smiling, but his eyes were sad again. Ethan's grin fell, but he continued humming the song, picking up where he left off. He wanted to pry and ask, but now wasn't the time. Mostly because they're almost at the Gas-n-Sip where Cas works and also because the exhaustion was catching up on him.

He stopped right in front of the store. Cas opened the car doors, but turned at the hunter and smiled at him, this time a happy one. "You didn't have to, but thank you for driving me."

Ethan smiled back. "Nah, it was nothing. Besides the motel I'm staying at was near anyway." It wasn't. "So… what time does your shift end? I was thinking we could meet up for lunch."

"My shift ends at two."

"Awesome. Want me to pick you up here?"

Cas got out of the car and closed its doors, but bent down and smiled at Ethan again. "That would be fine. You should get some sleep," he said and walked away.

Ethan backed out of the Gas-n-Sip parking lot and drove as fast as he could to the motel he was staying at. He's looking forward to having lunch with Cas, and sleeping would be the quickest way to make the hours pass by. Although, judging by the way he was getting excited like a kid the night of a school field trip, he might not get any sleep at all.

He was instantly proven wrong when he collapsed in bed upon entering his room.

Six hours later Ethan woke, grumbling. Sleep was one of the things he missed from his normal, monster-ignorant life. He'd be lucky if he could get more than four hours of sleep. At least there was coffee. He remembered reading somewhere that goats invented it or something. He didn't know if that was true or not, but he'd probably thank the first goat he'll come across with anyway.

He stood up and stretched while walking towards the motel room's windows. Ethan opened up the curtains to let the sunlight in. He then walked towards the kitchenette and turned on the electric kettle. Right above was a cupboard where the free packets of coffee, sugar, and cream were hiding. A mug was also sitting there, along with a box of disposable plastic stirrers. He grabbed them all, laying down the packets and stirrers near the kettle while taking the mug to the sink for a wash.

The kettle started whistling soon after. He tore off a coffee packet and dumped its contents into the mug. He did the same to four packets of sugar and a packet of cream, as well as taking out a stirrer from the box. He poured the boiling water into the mug, and stirred it slowly as his thoughts wandered on Cas.

He was a mystery. Undecipherable, but intriguing. He was really hoping he wasn't a vampire or something, because that would just suck. Well, if that was the case he was hoping it would be one of those 'vegetarian' types he sometimes heard about from other hunters. But really, dating as a hunter was complicated enough; dating an actual supernatural would be a whole other can of worms he wasn't ready to explore yet.

The caffeine was finally doing its work as Ethan feel a bit more alert. He stripped off his clothes (still vaguely smelling like werewolf) and went inside the bathroom for a shower.

He was out after thirty minutes. For a moment he panicked as he asked himself what he should wear on his lunch date with Cas, but then he remembered he only had the one duffel of clothes and they were all pretty much the same shirt and jeans he always wears. So he picked the nicest shirt he could find, a green shirt with a subtle striped pattern on it, and a clean pair of jeans. (The shirt was tighter than he was comfortable with, but he's gotten compliments before while wearing it. Said they 'bring out his eyes', whatever that means. Also, it showed off his physique, and a small part of him was hoping that Cas would check him out.)

After quickly dressing up, he glanced at the motel's clock. 1pm.

It was still too early to meet up, but maybe he could check the diners near the Gas-n-Sip for some reconnaissance.

Ethan wondered what Cas's favourite food was.

They were driving through Wyoming when Charlie called them back. Dean tensed as Sam hurriedly answered his phone.

"Hey Charlie. That was fast. Hold on, let me put you on speaker," his brother said, putting his phone on top of the Impala's dashboard.

"You found anything, Charlie?" asked Dean.

"Hello to you too, Dean. So, good news first—"

"You mean there's bad news?" Dean interrupted. He's trying to keep himself calm, but his mind can't stop conjuring images of Cas dead, or Cas being tortured. The worst was Dean being too late to save him, with Cas dying right before his eyes. Just like last time. He kicked the door open but the reaper was already plunging the blade through Cas's—

"Uhm… it's just… news." Charlie sounded a bit sheepish. Dean was about to ask another, but Sam spoke first.

"Tell us the good news first, Charlie."

"Right. So good news is, Cas left a voicemail fifteen minutes after I tried tracking his phone. The call came from Harrisburg, South Dakota, a few miles south of Sioux Falls. I'll send the coordinates to your phone." Dean turned to Sam, who did the same. His brother's eyes were wide, and Dean's pretty sure they're sporting the same expression. The two of them haven't been anywhere near Sioux Falls since… well, since Sam and Dean tricked Crowley to be the third trial.

"Uh, guys, you still there?"

Sam recovered first. "Uh yeah. Sorry about that. What's the other news?"

"Uhm…" Charlie was hesitant, which probably meant it was really bad news.

"Charlie?"

"I… kinda recorded the call Cas made."

Dean wasn't surprised, but Sam was, so he said, "What? How?"

"Oh uhm, you know… military satellites."

"…Right," Sam finally said, awestruck. Dean didn't really care how Charlie managed to do what she does, so he just said, "Let's hear it."

"Uhm… okay. It's… kinda short." Charlie was silent for a while, the only sound the tapping of a keyboard. Dean was holding his breath (and by the looks of it, so did Sam), as a soft beep rang through the phone's tinny speakers.

At first there was only silence, but Dean realized that it was the sound of a person breathing.

It was Cas.

He sounded awful. They were short, raspy breaths, as if he was deprived of air. As if he was in too much pain to talk. It felt like eternity, listening to Cas's breathing, but it was really just a few seconds when—

"—I'm sorry—"

Click.

The three of them were silent for a full minute. Only the sudden roar of the Impala punctured the heavy air, as Dean unconsciously floored it and accelerated towards their destination. The words echoed inside Dean's head, bouncing and amplifying until it threatened to consume him.

I'm sorry. Those words weren't for Dean, but it felt like it anyway. He wondered what Cas was apologizing for, and to whom. Not that it mattered. Dean wanted to say the same, he wanted to shout himself hoarse and let the whole world know how sorry he was, how he fucked up. He wanted Cas to hear him.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

"Charlie uh… thanks for the info," Sam finally said. Dean spared him a glance. His eyes were looking straight ahead, jaws tight, grim determination masking his brother's face.

"Anything for my boys," Charlie fondly said. "I still haven't met Castiel so you'd better go get your angel, okay? Good luck!"

"Thanks Charlie," Dean said, his voice gruff and tight. Sam took his phone and ended the call.

"I'm gonna get some rest. Wake me in a few hours so I can take a turn driving so you can rest too."

"Sure." As much as Dean wanted to drive the whole way to South Dakota, resting made sense. It wouldn't do Cas any good if one-half of his rescue team was tired and sleep-deprived.

As Sam closed his eyes and tried to get some rest, Dean prayed.

"Hey Cas. I… I know you're human and I dunno if you can hear me but… We're gonna get you back, alright? We're gonna take you home to the bunker. So don't give up. Whatever's happening to you right now, don't give up. Please. Me and Sam, we're gonna get you back, I swear. And when we do I'm never letting you go again Cas, I promise. So please… please be safe…"

The drive to South Dakota was shorter than normal, mainly because Dean ignored the speed limit and drove as fast as possible. Sam did too (to Dean's surprise), although he was more careful than Dean's almost manic driving.

The coordinates Charlie gave them pointed to an abandoned barn on the outskirts of Harrisburg. It was small and dilapidated, and it eerily reminded Dean of the barn where he first met Cas.

Sam went straight into the Impala's trunk and opened it, taking out two angel blades and handing one to Dean. He was glad they had a spare. They got it from an angel who recognized the Winchesters and tried to attack them while they were on a hunt a few weeks back.

A gold Lincoln Continental (a '78 by the looks of it, Dean surmised) was parked near the barn's right side, its engine still running.

Dean looked at his brother, who gave him a quick nod. They both raised the blades in their hands, ready to attack. They walked, quick and silent. As they got nearer the barn doors he spotted an angel banishing sigil painted on the door, the blood already halfway dry.

He was expecting screams. Dean prepared himself for that, hearing Cas scream from the torture and the pain. He even prepared for total silence, just in case they were too late.

"—gonna be fine, okay? You've had worse, judging from the stories you told me. I'm gonna get you to a hospital so they can patch you up, alright Cas? Stay awake, okay. I'm carrying you to my car, it's not that far—"

What he didn't expect was a voice. It wasn't the low, reassuring gravel of Cas's voice. It was higher, but was still identifiably male. The voice was soft, gentle, soothing. With another quick look at Sam (who just raised an eyebrow), they both kicked the doors and ran inside.

Seeing Cas again was a huge, unpleasant jolt in the veins. He was naked, except for a faded blue shirt providing cover below his stomach. Every inch of his skin was exposed, every inch littered with wounds and cuts and bruises. Most of them were torture marks from an angel blade, Dean guessed. Some of the cuts looked like Enochian, concentrated on his chest, his stomach and his limbs.

His face was so full of bruises it coalesced into one, ugly, purple mess. His nose looked broken. His lip was also split, and both of his eyes were swollen.

But it wasn't those that freaked out Dean the most. He only felt angry, to be honest. Angry at the winged bastards that did it to his friend. Angry at himself for kicking Cas out.

No, the one that freaked him out the most was Cas's hair.

Destiny can't be changed, Dean.

It was longer, and messier. He had stubble, somewhere between his usual barely there five o'clock shadow and the peach fuzz he had when they were stuck in Purgatory. But most of all, the way he looked right now was exactly the same as the Cas he met at Camp Chitaqua. Dean also realized the shirt covering Cas was the same one he wore when he was talking women into participating in that orgy Dean interrupted.

All roads lead to the same destination.

It sent Dean's mind into panic. They may have stopped the apocalypse and gave destiny a big 'fuck you' in the face, but maybe Dean would always find a way to fuck up Cas.

A voice pierced through the fog of his mind, harsh, and threatening.

"Who the fuck are you and what the hell are you doing here?"