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"Samantha I'm home."

Sam couldn't let Dean stumble into the library to see Castiel slumped over the table. He pushed back his chair and moved with long loping steps to intercept his brother in the entry way.

Dean was grinning like a Cheshire Cat. He held up a single bottle of Heineken for Sam. "Brought you a gift, bitch."

"Heineken? Seriously Dean, since when do you drink that European crap?"

"Ah, Sammy Sam, 'S not bad. 'S nice with chips."

Sam squinted his eyes trying to analyze how that statement corresponded to the tell tale sign of embarrassment on his brother's face.

"I'm not drunk. I can see your Dean-is-drunk bitchface brewing. I had two of these." Dean passed the bottle over to Sam.

"All night?" Sam chuffed in disbelief. "You sex drunk then?"

"No, I didn't put out. I played pool. Won $20 from a septuagenarian and donated it to the Firefighters Charitable Foundation. Well I didn't donate it, my playing partner sort of decided we were giving it away. Won it fair and square though, Bro."

"I'm sure you did." Sam started walking backwards in front of Dean, "before you go in there I need to tell you…"

"What Sammy? No chick flick stuff tonight. I'm in a good mood." Dean sighed deeply.

"Wait!" Sam got a sense of déjà vu as Dean ignored his effort to halt him and walked around his body.

There was no one at the table.

"Sam?" Dean laughed "Why are you drinking tea from two cups?"

Sam looked at his cup from earlier in the evening and the kitten cup sitting amongst his papers. "I was… ahem distracted." He craned his neck around looking for Castiel.

Dean flopped down on the very chair that the angel had vacated. "Drink your beer. Tea? Honestly Sam, why don't you just, I don't know, move to England and live in a library."

"Dean" Sam huffed at his brother's lame joke, "We do live in a library. Tell me about your night."

"Just did dude. Seriously? I had a few games of pool. Drank beer."

"Heineken?"

"Yeah. Told you. Is there a law against it?"

"I might come with you, the next night. I could use a break, and you keep going back there, must be a decent joint." Sam dipped his toe in the water wondering what Dean's reaction would be.

"Yeah yeah cool stuff. We could go out to Lebanon tomorrow night. Yeah?"

"Yeah Dean. Fine." Sam uncapped his gift and took a swig of the warm lager, stewing at denial and deception from a downright stubborn brother.

"I'm going to hit the memory foam." Dean eased himself up and cracked his spine.

"I'm gonna finish this text then I'll head." Sam muttered in response, his attention already re-focusing on Ethelbert the Saxon.

"Make sure you do Sammy. You need to sleep." Dean's voice softened and Sam could practically hear the unspoken words of concern and misplaced guilt.

"Says mister four hours a night." Sam ribbed back gently.

"I'm right and you know it." Dean teased going out through the kitchen.

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Castiel watched from his place on the floor. He had thrown his wings over his body when he heard Dean returning. He thought Sam might be disappointed that he had vanished, but he didn't have enough residual grace to truly travel away just at the moment. When Dean left the room, Castiel was drawn to follow him like a magnet.

He stood apart while Dean snagged a slice of provolone from the industrial size refrigerator.

He lingered outside the bathroom as Dean washed his face and brushed his teeth.

Finally he stood on the threshold as Dean entered his bedroom. Castiel regretted seeing this room while hiding from his friend. He would have liked to have been shown it by Dean. His eyes took in the weapons carefully mounted on the wall, the beautiful craftsman made gramophone, the collection of plastic wrapped vinyl, and the photograph of Mary Winchester. The room seemed unfinished and he wondered about Dean's final vision for this his own space.

Dean's good mood had evaporated. He was sitting on the side of the bed with his head in his hands.

Castiel almost made to become visible. He reached a hand out to comfort.

"Cas."

The angel jumped. How could Dean know he was there? Was his grace so weak that even his wings would not hide him now?

"Cas, where are you man?"

Dean was praying. Castiel could not hear the celestial frequency of the prayer, but he heard Dean's pained words.

"Come home. Please come home to me. I need you so freaking much. Don't feel bad about what happened in the crypt. I'd like you to bring the freaking tablet with you. You don't need to protect it from me. Scratch that, Cas. I didn't mean for it to sound like I only want you for some frigging angel blog. Listen it wasn't you laying into me. It wasn't. I've met that Theodora, Naomi. She is a piece of work. I'd like to turn her skin green."

Castiel's shoulder rose and stiffened in tension. Naomi had found the Winchesters. She could kill Dean.

"Cas. Just come home. We will face her together. I'll be there for you. We took down Dick. I know we landed in Purgatory but we did it. Hey we took down the apocalypse. One angel with a stick up her ass versus a holy tax accountant, a sick moose and a broken down hunter, hey? She hasn't a hope. That was a joke by the way."

Dean stood up and pulled his shirt off. He kicked off his boots and was using his big toe of one foot to pin down the sock on his other and ease that foot out. Castiel made to move away, to give him privacy.

"Benny is gone." Dean scrubbed a hand over his face.

Castiel frowned. He wondered what the story was. Castiel had been wary of the vampire, but Dean had bonded with their ally in a way that had astonished the angel. The way Dean had said 'gone', it sounded heartbreakingly permanent.

Dean unzipped his fly. Castiel took a step into the hall and began to think about where he was going to go. He heard Dean's voice from inside the room.

"Paul told me that I should say I love you, if I see you again. He said that he regrets trying to be a strong manly guy and not saying it enough to Leslie. He says that we deserve to say it to each other. I do, man. I do Cas. Come back, please, come home."

Castiel hunched over and felt the words like a punch to his core. What use could he be to Dean now? Holy Father, he loved Dean back, but he couldn't risk Naomi's wrath falling on his friends, and couldn't impose his weakened state on Dean. He grasped tight onto the nub of grace and with supreme effort moved himself to the verge of the west bound lane of Interstate-70.

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Author's Note: Theodora = wicked witch of the west, for Castiel and others who haven't seen the movie.