Dean's POV. (Just so you know, I don't ship Dean/Cas, so the bond I'm trying to express is friendship/brotherly love. However, you are free to interpret it however you like.)

Damn it feels good to be on the road again. Even without my brother next to me, the hum of the Impala is still home, and I drink in every pothole on the painted asphalt stretched in front of me. I don't let myself think about where I'm going or what I may or may not find when I get there. It's better to just drive, not let all these traitorous thoughts cloud my already weary mind. Don't thinkDon't thinkDon't think.

My silent mantra doesn't work. Not much else to do on a long drive besides think.

Dammit.

I've worked myself up quite a bit by the time I hit South Dakota. And not long after, I pass by the familiar wooden sign, swinging on its hinges. "Welcome to Sioux Falls" it screams at me. For a fleeting moment, I feel the tug of a smile on my lips. "Finally. My god, it's been too long since I've been by the garage," I think. "Wonder what Bobby's been up to anyway..."

And then I remember.

My chest constricts and it takes all my concentration to stay on the road. Shit. Yep. Still hurts. Bobby's death hasn't gotten any easier to accept, even knowing now that at least he's where he should be. He was all that me and Sam had left, and his death has torn at the gaping hole in my chest, still raw and barely stitched back together from all the losses we've suffered over the years. I breathe deeply, trying to push past the enormous lump that has lodged its way into my throat. A few more breaths, and I've managed to shove the ever present grief back down into the deepest pits of my mind, focusing on the road stretched out before me.

And that's when I see him.

Of all the places he could be. Of all the roads he could be walking alongside at this very moment. It's got to be one of the most colossal coincidences I've ever experienced, yet I know without a doubt that it's him. Even without the signature trench coat, I recognize the subtlety of his gait as he trudges wearily along the side of the road, directly in front of me. I can see his posture stiffen as I ease the Impala onto the shoulder, and I know he's heard the familiar roar of the engine slowing to a stop. I shift into park and practically leap from the car, a smile already plastered on my face. Cas is alive. I allow myself one moment of sheer relief, and then I'm practically sprinting towards him. He's stopped walking at this point, and I know he knows I've found him. Which is why I'm shocked when he finally turns to look at me.

My steps falter.

It's not relief I see in his expression. It's not joy. He's looking at me the way a dog looks at his master after its been kicked. He's looking at me like a terrified child, a broken soldier. I know that look well. I've seen it in the mirror countless times. Spent hours trying to wipe that damn look off my face, trying to cover it with some witty retort or sarcastic smirk. Seeing that same look on Cas's face now brings me up short. I stop only a few feet in front of him and then hesitate.

"Cas...?"

I take another step. The sorrow in his eyes seems to intensify when he hears his name and it's almost too much. One more step and I grab him in a tight embrace, taking most of his weight as he seems to collapse into me.

"Dean." My name barely whispers past his lips, but that one word is enough to get me moving, practically carrying him back to the Impala. It scares me how easy it is to drag him along beside me. Has he lost weight? Can angels even lose weight?

We reach the car and I quickly settle him into the passenger seat, sliding back behind the wheel. Jeez he looks awful. He's got a beard almost as shaggy and long as it was in Purgatory, and his usually vibrant blue eyes have dulled to a murky gray.

"Shit Cas, what happened to you?" I ask as I flip the car around on the mostly deserted road, heading back to the bunker. I know I should call to update Sam, but I'm a bit overwhelmed at the moment. Cas is still staring at me with those damn eyes, like he's waiting for me to start throwing punches or something.

"Cas, come on man, you're scaring me. Talk to me," I plead. He still won't look at me. I let another long moment pass and then open my mouth to try again, but finally he speaks, his voice low and gravelly, as though he hasn't used it in days.

"I...Dean...I'm so sorry." The apology is laden with regret, and his voice hitches as the words continue to tumble out. "I let you down. I let you all down. Metatron...he lied to me...I was...I was trying to...I thought..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa Cas. Slow down, okay?" I interrupt, "Just slow down. We can worry about all that crap later, just...tell me what you need right now. You look like shit. So...let's take care of that first."

He stares at me again, shocked. As though he doesn't deserve to be taken care of. As though he's lost the right. Again, I know the expression. It's one of my own.

"Dean..." he starts, "When Metatron...in order for Metatron to cast the angels out of heaven, in order for him to finish the process...he needed...he needed the grace of an angel. My grace."

It takes a second for the words to click into place, and when it hits, I can't seem to respond. And it seems I don't have to, because Cas says the words for me.

"Dean...I'm human."

Sorry for the delay! I've been having computer problems and just moved into my dorm for the year. Please review if you have time! Thanks!