Misplaced

Cas felt in the way. Dean knew he did; he could see it all over the poor guy's face as he sat there on the edge of the bed, watching Sam and Dean go through their nightly routines. He had this 'little lost puppy' kind of look to him that made Dean mentally kick himself for not knowing what to say, and even if he knew what to say, he's still too weirded out by the idea of saying it in front of Sam. He can barely admit things to himself, though he's been learning how over the past few years. With Cas he knows that he's totally free from judgment; but Sam is a human being, with faults and problems and a judging nature like anyone else, no matter how hard he tries otherwise. So no heart-to-hearts with Sam until Dean is comfortable enough to talk about it, and in this case, the answer to that is a big Hell No.

Dean quickly squats down to feel around underneath one of the bedside tables. Nothing. He rises and pokes around in the closet, shifting bags and loose shirts and, generally, making a commotion that's kinda unnecessary, but he's getting more annoyed as he goes so he really doesn't give a shit. "Dammit," he mutters not-at-all quietly. Cas is staring at him.

"What are you looking for?" Dean hears behind him.

"Huh? Oh- I can't find my- damn sock."

He keeps rifling through his belongings while he talks, facing away from Cas but it doesn't matter, angels have super-hearing. The sound of wings startles him for a second, then Cas appears beside him, holding out his missing black sock. It takes a few moments for Dean to register what's happening, eyes flicking back and forth between Cas and the sock. He snaps out of it and takes the damn thing. His fingers graze Cas' accidentally; he definitely didn't tense up a bit when that happened. What the hell is Sam so fucking amused at over there? Asshole.

"Uh, thanks. Where the hell'd you find it?"

Cas shuffles back to his perch on the bed. "It was lying on the floor in the restroom, behind the toilet."

"Go figure." Dean loosens up his throat with a short cough. "So Cas. What're you gonna do now?"

Sam looks up from his laptop to see Cas' reaction. Oh no, Dean, don't ask that. Why would you ask that?

"I thought I would just sit here quietly for a while, if that's alright with you. Why?"

Dean's face contorts, undecided, between a dozen different expressions; Sam recognizes Relief, the one that Dean would've settled on if he hadn't caught Sam looking and covered it by scratching at some imaginary itch on his cheek. Because Dean's probably about to say something idiotic, Sam speaks up first, earning Cas' attention. "Well we're going to sleep pretty soon, so, now would be the time to bail if you don't want to sit here in the dark all night. I can go down and get another room for you, if you want. Or you can- I dunno, roam around?"

"That won't be necessary, Sam," Cas responds, earnesty in his voice and on his face. "I don't mind sitting in the dark. I'll watch over you." He's looking at Dean as he says the second part; Sam's eyes flick over to Dean as well. His brother's expression is priceless.

"That's not happening."

Sam sends him a look over Cas' shoulder that says 'are you kidding me or did you seriously just say that to him'. He understands that Dean is sorta out of his element here, but really? This isn't even about whether he has feelings for Cas or not-

Castiel shifts his head from Dean to Sam, to Dean again. Has he missed something? "I don't understand."

After a short pause: "Look, no offense, but don't you have, y'know, angel stuff to do in Heaven? You left a pretty big mess up there."

"Dean-"

Whatever Sam was going to say, it's too late now. Castiel is on his feet. "I can't return to Heaven. Not after everything I've done, not after I've slain thousands of my-"

"Don't give me that. You're just afraid." Dean takes a step forward. "Own up to what you did, Cas."

Castiel glowers at him, half-pained and half bewildered. His throat chafes as he swallows down whatever emotion is threatening to burst out. "Why- Why are you telling me this?" he whispers.

Sam moves closer as well. "Rough way of putting it, but he's right. You can't hide from your mistakes forever, Castiel. Believe us, we know. You have to atone."

Something's wrong.

Something is wrong with this moment. Look. Actually observe. Castiel swivels his head this way and that, inspecting every piece of furniture in the motel. When he raises his eyes to the light fixture, a flash of concentrated thoughts invades his consciousness.

'Cas, you hearin' me?'

"Listen to us, Castiel."

The voices are both Dean, but that can't be. It hurts. It's confusing. All this noise is splitting Castiel apart; he presses his hands against his ears and suddenly he can hear it better, the voice calling to him.

'Cleaned up a poltergeist in Tuskeegee. Headed out to Akron now, about three hours west. Please answer me, man. Please. I know you're still out there Cas.'

He draws a ragged breath. "Dean?"

"I'm right here, Castiel."

No, no, that's not right. Right? Was that prayer real? What here is real? "Who are you?" he demands.

He only just realizes that Sam has snatched his wrists and pinned them behind his back. Dean leans close, a harshness in his eyes that reminds Castiel of Raphael: pure power and utter purpose. The harshness of an Angel on a mission. This image of Dean starts to glow, brighter, brighter still, and the whole room is drained of color but there was never a room in the first place was there, no, everything is made of light and wavelengths and collective-consciousness across the planes of every dimension in existence. The only thing missing at this point is a massive sign which reads 'Welcome to Heaven'.

A stream of focused Enochian echoes in his grace. We all know that a being made of light creating sound in an imperceivable dimension made of what could best be described as anti-light, and without requiring vocal chords (as if that's the most problematic factor present right now), is impossible on a level that would drive many of us to insanity, so for the sake of human comprehension, let's pretend that Heaven is an actual physical place, filled with somewhat physical beings, and that a translation for Enochian exists and can be expressed in perfect English:

"What did you do?"

"I increased the dosage, as you instructed-"

"Obviously not! Castiel is becoming aware!"

"Should I purge his memory of this encounter?"

"No, you have done enough. Leave. I wish to speak with him."

As he listens, Castiel rouses slowly from his comatose state, to find that he is firmly secured and cannot move.

"Wh- What is happening? What did you do to me?"

A figure appears in his field of view.

"Welcome back, Castiel. Unfortunately for you, it has not yet been long enough."

And with this, I'm going on another hiatus so I can get the next installment of parts ready! I don't know how long I'll need, but it'll probably be at least a month or two like the last hiatus. Please let me know what you think about the progression of events- and don't worry! Everything will be explained soon *evil cackle*