Castiel helped Dean out of the car, taking special care to ensure his wings did not sustain injury before leading the winger man to the back. Opening the trunk, Dean really didn't know if he should be horrified or in awe. Where the spare tire should sit lay what could best be described as an artillery – filled to the brim with weapons of all forms, ranging from up-close and personal to a distance head shot. He watched in silence as Cass's deft hands set aside an assortment of supplies, cataloguing through the collection with a familiarity he was uncertain how comfortable he was with. Turning to Dean, the priest handed him a bottle of lighter fluid and a Zippo.

"So, I get to do the burning part of this?"

He watched Castiel slip a gun into the back waistband of his jeans before pulling out salt and a shovel. Dean pocketed the lighter in favor of taking the salt canister while he closed the trunk.

"I believe you will find that job preferable."

Dean still wasn't sure why he was following this man, he'd had plenty of opportunities to bolt and yet he was chasing after him into a cemetery to salt and burn a child's bones. It was getting to the point that everything in his life was just becoming some kind of fucked up TV Drama, like he went on a walk and then stepped onto the set of Buffy, only he was in the movie adaptation and, in this particular instance, he was Pike. Deep in his mental reverie, he didn't notice Castiel stop until he barreled into the smaller man. 'Dude feels like he's made of bricks…'

"Dude, warn me –"

"Dean."

Looking beyond the priest he saw him then, the kid from the picture – Leno? It was surreal, he looked exactly the same. For a moment, Dean thought that maybe Castiel had staged it all to make him believe. The thought died in its tracks when Castiel dropped the shovel and fired the gun he was carrying – shooting the kid in the face. Dean froze, watching as Leno dispersed like smoke around the bullet. It took Castiel grabbing the shovel and shoving him before he snapped back to the present.

"Run!"

He was stumbling behind him then, still too shocked to do anything but obey. It was all just too much – the wings, a ghost hunting priest. His life was spiraling out of control and all he could think about was that Sammy would never believe him, the kid safe and sound in his Stanford dorm room. His body watched Castiel begin digging, his mind setting the rest of him on autopilot while it attempted to make sense of the mess.

"Dean!"

That snapped him back as his eyes met Castiel's liquid fire irises. Seeing him pull the gun almost made him freeze again before he noticed the priest's eyes trained on something just behind him; years of a drunken father and bar brawls kicked in as he dropped to the ground in time for Cass to shoot the kid again.

"I need you focused, Dean!"

Castiel's already deep voice now lowered to a growl of frustration made Dean's ears itch; he jumped to his feet and flipped around to look for the child. Turning back to Castiel who had resumed digging, he gripped the poker a little tighter. Thirty minutes and another couple of feet down, Dean saw the kid again. Holding the rod high, ready to swing, something in his mind screamed for him to wait.

The kid looked so lost, sadness pouring from his face and again Dean found himself thinking of Sam. He could hear Castiel calling to him; hear the panic in the priest's voice as he moved closer to the ghost. Dropping the poker, he gingerly reached out to touch the child's shoulder. When he found solid warmth under his touch he pulled the boy close and ran his hands through his hair as he allowed instinct to provide his actions.

"It's been hard for you, huh Leno?"

The child clutched his shirt then, gentle sobs erupting against his stomach while he held the ghost to himself. He really hadn't been thinking when he'd started this, just acted on instinct and now found himself up the river without a paddle. Continuing to stroke Leno's hair, he turned to Castiel for guidance. The small smile on the cleric's face stopped Dean's ministrations, his brain jolting to a stop. Something was in those eyes, something Dean couldn't place and it hurt to look.

Castiel nodded then, urging Dean to continue. Swallowing and thinking for a moment, he pulled away from the kid so he could kneel down in from of him. Looking into the muddy brown eyes of the departed youth, he said the first thing that came to mind.

"Everything will be alright."

Trying to further comfort Leno, reassure him that he meant those words, Dean gently ran his hand across the boy's forehead to sweep his bangs from his face. A light spontaneously spilled from his palm and engulfed the world around them. Temporarily blinded with his eyes wide open, the light suddenly stopped and Leno was gone.

Whipping his head around he barely caught sight of the look of total yearning on Castiel's face before it turned back into the gentle smile.

"What just…what the fuck did I do?!"

"I believe you forgave his transgressions, Dean."

"What?"

"You appear to possess Angelic abilities – what I believe happened is that you granted him entrance to the next life, possibly even Heaven."

Dean looked away from the cleric, looking instead in a mixture of horror and fascination at his hands. After everything he had done, after all the deeds he has committed, how could he possess such Heavenly powers? In silence, Castiel refilled the grave before they made their way back to the Impala. Dean looked at the other man then, seeing the obvious signs of a man running on empty; his dark circles pronounced and his shoulders slumped with exhaustion. He decided against speaking out, sliding uncomfortably into the passenger seat and staring out the window for the duration of their trek back. The only noises between them remained the radio playing rock classics and the sound of the engine purring under Castiel's steady hands as he drove them back to the church.

Upon entering, Dean was the first to break the silence.

"So, uh…where do I sleep?"

Castiel's head moved so fast Dean almost thought he would get whiplash – the hope filled light in his eyes giving them an almost luminescent quality.

"You will stay?"

"Yeah…Yeah, I'll stick around."

"Oh, thank the Lord."

"Yeah, yeah 'Praise be to Jesus' – now where am I sleeping?"

"Oh...um, you may use the couch in my office."

"Sounds like a plan."

Castiel helped Dean out of the button up shirt, taking great care not to touch him Dean noted. Just as he started to settle into the comfort of the couch, situating his wings where they wouldn't be a huge hassle, he heard Castiel shuffling around the room. Peering with one eye, he found the priest packing away what little belongings he appeared to have.

"Dude, what are you doing?"

He sat up properly to get a better look at the situation, Castiel still pulling objects from the drawers and laying them into his duffel.

"I must prepare for tomorrow – we depart for Ohio in the afternoon."

"You need sleep."

"I…will be alright."

Groaning, Dean stood and spun the priest around by the arm before jabbing him in the chest with his index finger.

"You need to sleep."

Just like that the cleric's eyes rolled back in his head as he almost fell to the floor – Dean crying out and catching him. Cass lay limp in his arms, his breath slow and even despite the hassle Dean was having keeping a hold on him.

"Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me."