He tells himself he's happy with Lisa. He tells himself he loves her—and he does, one way or another—and that he loves Ben and that his life is good. It's not, of course. If it's a good life it's not his life. He wasn't born to do this, wasn't raised to do this, and never thought he wanted this. Sam was the one who'd left, the one who could have been happy leaving. Dean knows where he belongs but he can't—won't—go back. He's out, he's done, he's safe, and now he has to keep them safe. So he tells himself he's happy with Lisa and tries not to think about the angel he fell in love with.
He hasn't heard from Cas all year. The last thing Cas asked him was whether he would choose peace or freedom. It was a rhetorical question; Cas always knew what Dean would choose. Funny that he'd chosen to free himself from the hunter way but his life had never felt more like a prison. And sometimes he can't deny that it's peaceful.
Dean Winchester chose peace after all.
Dean Winchester chose peace and that's a problem because Castiel said that he wouldn't—couldn't—shouldn't. And he tries telling himself that Castiel was wrong but he knows it isn't true. The truth is that Castiel knows Dean better than anyone, even himself.
Castiel knows that Dean's choice is freedom.
But Dean chose peace.
Dean is glad that Lisa isn't religious because the very thought of prayer makes him want to throw up. It isn't about God—although Dean is still pretty POed at that guy—it's about the angel who used to answer his prayers.
The one who gripped him tight and raised him from perdition.
And even though Cas is the one who chose to go back to Heaven, who disappeared right out of Dean's car, Dean still feels like he's the one who abandoned Cas. Like he's the one who betrayed him.
Because the truth is that Castiel didn't need to be in that car at all. He didn't need the ride, and it wouldn't take him where he needed to go anyway. Cas was in that car so he could talk to Dean.
And sometimes Dean wonders if he blew it.
That car sits in the garage, covered, unused. He still takes care of her, of course, but he doesn't drive her anymore. Dean Winchester drives a pickup and holds a job and lives in a house and eats food that isn't from a diner. Dean Winchester talks to human beings that aren't family and starts to believe he enjoys it.
He doesn't, of course. Sometimes when he can't sleep—which is more nights that not but he doesn't tell Lisa that—he can't help remembering what it was like when he talked to one person who's no longer in his life. The only person Dean ever felt that kind of friendship wasn't he a person at all.
He was an Angel of the Lord.
Dean remembers when he told Lisa that when he pictured himself happy, it was with her. He was telling the truth, then. That was before he started lying to her. When he was hunting, Dean used to imagine himself settled down with a family. And ever since he met Ben the family he pictured had been the boy and Lisa.
But Dean's fantasy life wasn't the same as his reality. Being a hunter wasn't something he did, it's something he was. Something he is.
And even though he quit hunting he's still the same person.
And now that he's living with Lisa and Ben he still can't honestly say that he's happy. If Cas appeared in front of him at this moment Dean could not tell him that he was happy. He couldn't lie to his angel.
Dean can't picture himself happy with them anymore because he is with them and he isn't happy. Dean Winchester believes he will never be happy.
This year is supposed to be the best of his life. He has a family. But when he thinks about the last time he was really happy—happy enough to even forget about his fight with Sam for a few moments—he thinks about taking Cas out to experience decadence on what was nearly the angel's last night on Earth.
And that's a problem.
He has a family, but they aren't his family. Sam is—was—his family. For the short time that he knew the kid Adam was his family too. And every night he sees the two of them falling into Lucifer's Cage.
Castiel was—is?—his family too. Somehow he knows that.
And somehow he knows he misses Cas more than he thinks he should.
He goes to sleep with a gun and a bottle of holy water next to his bed and he has nightmares about Sam, about Hell, sometimes about his parents.
He's never admitted it to himself but some nights he wishes more than anything that he would hear "hello, Dean" and turn around to see that same dirty trench coat-wearing angel that used to violate both his dreams and his personal space.
If a nightmare is too vivid sometimes he imagines Castiel is watching him, even though he thinks it's creepy. And every time he looks at Lisa he feels damn guilty and swears that she will never find out.
He tells himself it's because Castiel is part of his old life as a hunter and he doesn't want Lisa involved in that.
But that isn't why and he knows it.
Because deep down there are times—maybe all the time—when he'd rather be with Cas, even fighting for his life, than safely next to Lisa.
And that's his guiltiest secret of all.
It's not the danger, not saving the world, not the loss of his brother.
Dean feels guilty because he misses Castiel more than he misses anything but Sammy.
And he feels guiltier because he knows why.