Day 23: Arguing

Title: Be There For Me

Summary: After a year apart, Dean confront Cas for abandoning him for Heaven, provoking a startling reaction and fur

Notes: This takes place during 6.03 "The Third Man." This will also be a two-shot since the next day of the challenge is "Making Up Afterwards."

Dean should have known better than to let Sam go out and leave him all alone with the angel.

"You're angry with me." He heard Cas state plainly, feeling the heat of that burning blue eyed gaze drilling into his back. Dean locked his jaw and shrugged, unable to turn around and even look at the angel.

"Dean, that wasn't a response." The angel pointed out, his voice closer now as the sound of his nearing footsteps matched Dean's pounding heart.

"It doesn't matter," Dean said in a sigh, walking away from him in a vain attempt to avoid the warmth the Castiel's body brought, "The gang's back together again. All we need is a mystery van and a pot-smoking dog, and we'll be all set." Dean didn't even have to turn around to see Castiel's confusion.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the two—the awkwardness that poisoned the air enough to make Dean fidget. He hated how tense it had become between him and Cas—after all, he was practically best buddies with the angel over that whole apocalypse ordeal—but he knew there were no ways to solve it. Well...no way Dean was comfortable with.

"If this is about Sam, I—"

"It's not about Sam," Dean snapped before he could stop himself, suddenly furious that the angel didn't even understand what he did wrong—how much it had hurt Dean when he just abandoned him right when he needed the guy more than ever, "It's about—" He cut himself off, reigning in his anger before he could blurt out something that would only make things worse between them.

"Look, just forget it," Dean said, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to keep his voice as gruff and flat as possible, "None of it matters now. You're here." But for how long, I'll never know, he finished in his mind with a heavy heart.

"Dean, I don't understand," The angel declared in a labored sigh, as if Dean's feelings were such a damn inconvenience to him, "If you have a conflict with me, we should just confront it before it interferes with the case."

Dean scoffed, "So when it involves one of your angel buddies, you care about the case."

"When it involves the weapons of Heaven, yes." Castiel snapped, exasperated annoyance evident in his rising voice, "Now I don't have time for this childishness."

Dean snorted, "Yeah, well...you don't have time for anybody, do you?" He had meant his words to sound scornful and bitter, but they came out only weak and pathetic. Jesus Christ, he grumbled to himself, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration, apple pie life has made me soft. Next thing you know, I'll actually be pulling the chick flick moment crap on Sam instead of the other way around.

He heard a ruffle of wings and rolled his eyes, a part of him relieved at his departure while another part ached at the loss. Dean hated the conflict that arose in his chest at the presence of the angel, hated how even after he abandoned him, he still cared for the feathery freak. Actually, "cared" was a significant understatement—

"Dean." Castiel said, suddenly appearing a foot in front of him.

"Christ," Dean exclaimed, jumping back and stumbling into the sharp corner of the sofa, "Cas, don't do that. I mean, I know your people skills are rusty, but seriously—"

"You're resentful," Cas stated flatly, blue eyes so deep and intense, they caused a lump to build in Dean's throat, "Why?"

"You left me," Dean accused in a soft, broken voice, "I was there barely hanging on by a thread back there, and you left me to go up there and play fucking sheriff."

"So then you decided to play house." Cas shot back, a flicker of actual emotion flitting across his cold, stoic expression, "Now tell me what was I to do, Dean?"

"Be there for me," He answered weakly, his eyes burning as he looked at the bright, beautiful angel, "Why won't anyone just be there for me? For once in my life, why can't anyone just stay?"

Castiel didn't respond at first. His gaze remained as steady as always, but his features twisted, his face darkening in what almost seemed like...sorrow? Regret?

Dean swallowed hard and glanced away, taking a step back and scratching the back of his head insecurely, "I, uh...I'm gonna go check and see, uh—see if Sam's made it back yet." Cas just stood there—frozen in place like a beautiful yet cold statue that oozed grace and detachment—as Dean turned and made his way to the door, the urge to escape this insufferable environment too profound to ignore.

His fingertips barely grazed the doorknob when Cas spoke.

"Do you think it was easy?"

Dean froze, a chill running down his spine at Castiel's soft, tempestuous voice, "Excuse me?"

"Returning to Heaven, leaving you," The angel clarified breathlessly, his gaze forcing Dean to slowly to back around to face him, "Do you think I wanted to go back there, to a place that held the very beings that had previously wished for my head on a silver platter?"

Dean regarded him with a curious gaze, brow furrowed, "Then...why'd you go back?"

"I had a duty, Dean," Castiel told him simply, casting his gaze downward as he closed the gap between them, "An obligation to my fellow brethren—to God, more like—to be the saving grace of my race and lead my kind to The Lord's greatest gift: free will. How could I refuse such an important responsibility?"

"You didn't owe them anything." Dean told him, though he wasn't sure if that was even true, "You saved the world; you paid your dues."

Cas smiled, but it was a sour sort of smile—the sort of smile that tasted bittersweet, "A man's job is never done, Dean. You of all people should understand that."

Dean sighed, raking a hand through his hair, "I mean...I get it, Cas, I really do. But...couldn't you have at least visited? Don't you care about—"

"Of course I care about you, Dean," Castiel snapped harshly, eyes darkening at the mere implication of otherwise, "What, you think I had enough strength to visit you at your new life? You think I could stand watching you with her?" The last word was hissed in both scorn and envy, a deep scowl playing on the angel's lips at the mention of Lisa.

"What?" Dean demanded in astonishment, "What does Lisa have anything to do with—"

"She has everything to do with this," Cas growled, his escalating voice rattling Dean's ribcage, "Because you love her. You were content with spending the rest of your life with her."

"So?" Dean demanded harshly, throwing his hands up in frustration and confusion.

"Dean Winchester, you are an idiot." Castiel exclaimed sourly before disappearing with the sound of wings.

Dean sighed and flopped down on the couch, burying his face in his hands and trying to understand how Lisa—who Cas had never even met—had anything to do with this. Why would Cas care about her, of all people?

I need better friends, he groaned to himself, hoping Sam would hurry the hell back so he wouldn't have to think about this anymore.

It wasn't until days later—after Dean and Castiel had silently agreed to pretend their confrontation didn't happen—did it finally occur to him what Cas meant by those words.