"I don't like this," Cas said.

"Oh come on, Cas! We have to do these things. We can't hunt and have honest jobs," Dean said.

"Well, I did what you told me to do before. We paid your mom for the impala and opened bank accounts with the money you got from impersonating a security guard taking bank deposits from a "faulty" cash drop box. We opened bank accounts in our fake identities and wrote cheques on our overdraft and never paid them back. We got credit cards on our fake identities and never paid the bills. I was with you, that far. But this seems so wrong," Cas said.

"She won't miss it," Dean muttered. A woman in front of him in line at a diner had left her credit card in plain sight on the counter, and Dean had swiped in right in front of Cas. Cas was now sitting beside Dean in the impala and looking back furtively every few seconds, as if he thought the FBI was on the case already. Dean didn't have the heart to tell him that in terms of laws, the fraud they had already perpetrated together was actually much worse than snagging a credit card a woman left lying around. The guilt was probably just because Cas had actually seen the woman's face so the crime seemed more real, Dean suspected.

"It's stealing money from an old lady," Cas said.

"She wasn't old. She was fifty if she was a day. And considering your age, you shouldn't be calling anyone old."

"Did you have to pick it up?"

"It was just sitting there! Listen, I can find a crooked jewellery store or some other place that sells big ticket items. I use the credit card to buy some things, but leave the inventory with them and take cash instead. The lady with the credit card gets a bill and realizes she lost her card, and refuses to pay it. The bank pays the bill with insurance and everyone's happy. Then I take the money and invest it under a "safe" identity that I never use for anything illegal. I'm going to invest in IBM, Apple, whatever I can think of that's going to take off. Listen, when we get our time travel investments all set up and they start to pay up, we can just live off of the interest. We won't have to steal at all," Dean said.

"Are you sure you want to stop stealing?" Cas asked.

Dean rolled his eyes. "I don't like doing it. It's not like I'm a criminal mastermind or anything. Actually if I hadn't seen Catch Me if you Can I wouldn't even know how to pull low-tech scams like these. I mean, when I was a kid I'm sure dad did stuff like this, but he never taught me how to pull cons until the digital age."

"Fine. What should I do while you're doing all this?" Cas asked.

"I don't know. We've been hunting pretty steady since…I'll have to go to a big city for all this. I suppose you could take a holiday somewhere…I could drop you at the beach or something…"

Cas looked at Dean thoughtfully. "We have been hunting pretty steady, haven't we? I think I'll stay with you. I don't know how useful I'll be in the scam, but I can keep an eye on you."

"Keep an eye on me?" Dean asked. He tried to look offended, but didn't think he was pulling it off. He probably would have hooked up with some random chick if he and Cas had separated temporarily, and somehow these days that only made him feel lonelier than ever. Cas's constant companionship was the only thing keeping him from dwelling on what happened with Sam…what he'd let happen to Sam. It meant a lot that Cas wanted to stick with him even when he was doing something that Cas didn't really approve of.

"Someone has to," Cas said.

They got a decent room with a kitchenette in a clean place where the owner had made some interesting decorating choices. Cas took some money from Dean to buy some things. He had been experimenting with cooking, as much as he could in a kitchenette, at any rate.

When Dean returned to the hotel he had a stack of cash that would have been impressive in his time and in the 70s would certainly be enough to make some hefty investments. Dean wished he knew more about finances, but he figured bankers were just con artists with fancy suits, so how different would they really be to him, anyway?

He opened the door to the room and found that Cas had made some nameless Italian chicken dish with pasta, that while being unlike anything else he'd ever tasted, didn't taste bad.

"Thanks for cooking. It's a nice break from the diner food," Dean said.

"You love diner food," Cas said.

"The food, yeah, but, sometimes it's nice to have a meal in private, you know? To not have to smile and act normal all the time just because a stranger is serving you dinner."

"Dean, I've been thinking about what you said this morning," Cas said.

"What did I say this morning?"

"You said we've been hunting steady since Sam died," Cas said.

Dean felt the half-smile fall from his face and his expression harden. "I'm pretty sure I never said that Sam died because he didn't die," Dean said.

"I know. I know he didn't die. But maybe it's better if we act like he did. Talk like he did. Maybe we should have a hunter's funeral in his honour. It's not like he's coming back," Cas said.

"You don't have to tell me that. If there's one thing I know, it's that my brother isn't coming back," Dean said. He was trying to remember that Cas didn't always know the effect of his words—he was still inhuman, at times. He didn't mean to sound cold. But Dean felt the anger creeping into his voice.

"Dean, mourning is a process. You can't just 'get over' what happened to Sam by hunting night and day and refusing to think about it," Cas said.

"Watch me!" Dean snapped. He rose from his chair abruptly, planning on going out.

"Dean, please, I'm trying to help you," Cas said.

"You really think you know what I need? You barely even know what it's like to have feelings. And how do I get over the fact that I went back in time and let my father get killed so that my brother was never born? What do I do with that? Tell me," Dean said. He could see that his comment about Cas not knowing what it was like to have feelings hurt Cas, but he refused to feel bad.

"You did what you had to do, Dean. It wasn't your fault."

"Of course it was my fault!" Dean said. He ran his fingers through his hair. He wished he could take back everything he'd said and just go out for a drink. He didn't want to talk about any of this. Didn't want to think about it. "You warned me not to come here."

"What happened here was never set in stone. Anything could have happened. And what happened to Sam—it happened because Sam wanted it to be that way. He wanted to make a sacrifice to save everyone. He wanted you to let him," Cas said.

Dean felt tears in his eyes. "And God help me, I did let him. How much of me letting him disappear himself was because I didn't want to play my part? How much of it was all about not wanting to do what the angels said? I let him make a sacrifice so I wouldn't have to."

"No Dean. You let him make his own choice. He chose to save you, and the world," Cas said.

Cas got up from his seat and walked over to where Dean was leaning on the hotel room's desk. He leaned against it beside Dean and put a hand on Dean's arm. Dean didn't want to admit it, but that single touch was the most reassuring thing he'd felt in weeks.

"Dean, listen to me. I was serious about the funeral. I know you think I'm like some alien from outer space who doesn't understand human emotion, but I've been watching humanity for a long time. Mourning rituals are important. They have been in almost every civilization since the beginning of time. They help you accept your loss, make peace with your issues about the person and move on," Cas said.

"I don't know if I can ever move on from this. I mean, I let my Dad and my brother die," Dean said.

"Dean, Sam told me once about how you felt after you found out that your father had made a deal and was in hell to save you. Well, that never happened. He's in heaven, so in a way by letting him die you saved him. But think about the deal for a minute. Remember how you felt when you realized your father had sacrificed himself to save you? Now imagine how Sam would have felt if you'd done something else to save him—if you'd bargained the whole world against your little brother. He never could have carried that weight. He'd never have forgiven you. He probably wouldn't even be able to look at you. You did the right thing that day. I'm sure of it," Cas said.

Dean looked at Cas through his tears, and for the first time, he sort of believed what Cas was saying. "I don't think I'll ever get over this Cas. I don't think I'll ever really forgive myself."

"Give it time," Cas said. He hesitated for a moment and then put his arm around Dean's shoulder. "For now just know that I believe you did the right thing, and that Sam was a hero."

Dean shuddered at Cas's words and turned towards him. He was relieved when Cas put his arms around him and the arm draped awkwardly around his shoulders became half of a tight embrace. Dean found his arms snaking around Cas's waist and they stayed that way for a long time.

Later they had a couple of drinks, sitting on their respective beds and watching mindless 70s television that Dean had already seen in reruns. It was depressing to think that he wouldn't see a new episode of a show he liked or a new movie until he was in his 60s. Maybe he should branch out and start watching foreign films and television.

Dean's mind was wandering a lot, but it kept on coming back to what Cas had said. Sam was a hero for what he had done. It was true. And if Azazel and Michael managed to find other meat suits to wear to the prom, his heroic act would be for nothing.

Rooting around in his pack, he found his Dad's journal. He had to go get the colt again, and then he could get started.

"How will we find Azazel?" Cas asked Dean that morning in the impala.

"I still have my dad's journal. He tracked old yellow-eyes for years. I also know the names of his "special children" and their birthdays," Dean said.

"So you think we should intercept him when he is trying to feed his blood to one of the special children?"

Dean glanced at Cas. "No, Cas, there's no we in this. I'm going after him alone."

"Dean, you can't!" Cas said. "It's not like I'm as weak as I was when we first started hunting together. I'm twice as strong as you and I was actually designed by God for combat, especially against demons. Not letting me go with you…it doesn't make any sense. It makes me think you don't want to walk away from this fight."

"Cas, that's not what this is all about. It's more…I've gone up against Azazel several times. The times when I was unsuccessful, it was because he used the people I loved against me. I can't take the risk that he could hurt you and use my distraction to get away again," Dean said.

"But Dean, the time you killed Azazel, you did it because you had the help of many people, including your father's ghost. You're telling me that you can go up against this demon alone now?"

"I've changed a lot since then. I've been to hell. I've stood up to angels, Gods…I just don't find him as scary as I used to," Dean said.

"You should find him scary! Dean, why do we have to do this now? We know we have time. We know when the contest at Cold Oak happens. We won't have to worry about this until years from now. There's no rush," Cas said.

"So we should wait until we're old and slow, or until we've convinced ourselves that the apocalypse could never happen again? Or until we have lives…friends…people we care about and responsibilities that we don't want to leave? This is the perfect time. If we don't do it now, we'll never do it," Dean said.

"We. You're back to saying "we" again. Does that mean you've come to your senses?"

"I just don't want to see you in danger like that," Dean muttered.

"I'm not a child. I'm not your little brother that you have to look out for. I'm older and more powerful than you can imagine. My powers have come back a lot more than I've let on," Cas said.

Dean glanced over at Cas in annoyance. He couldn't keep having such a serious conversation while driving. At best he'd get them lost, and at worst he'd drive right into the ditch. He waited until he saw a wide shoulder and pulled over.

"Why wouldn't you tell me that you've gotten your powers back?" he asked. As always, his tone ended up a lot more harsh than he had intended.

Cas avoided his eyes, and then looked out the window. "I suppose I was enjoying you…taking care of me. Making sure I was okay. I didn't want you to know I didn't need any help. But understand me, Dean, I'm still cut off from heaven. There are still many miracles that are beyond me."

"You hate when I take care of you. It annoys the shit out of you. You thought I needed it. You thought I'd break if I didn't have someone to look after," Dean murmured.

"I enjoyed knowing that I was important to you," Cas said.

"Shit, Cas. You're the only thing in the world that matters to me. If it wasn't for you…you don't have to pretend to be something you're not."

"Will you let me help you kill Azazel?" Cas asked.

Dean sat for several minutes without answering. He didn't know what he'd do without Cas. He would be completely alone. What would he do, go live with his mom and help her raise himself? No, he knew exactly what he'd do. He'd take stupid risks until he died, just like every other hunter who loses the will to fight, and survive. Could he take the risk of bringing Cas with him?

"We'll talk about this later," Dean said. For a long time Cas didn't say a word, and they sat silently in the unmoving car.