The unmistakable sound of a twig snapping sent him whirling around. A shiver slipped down his spine as he took in the image of the two leviathan, their souls dark and twisted and plotting beneath the human faces they hid behind. "Dean!" He urged Dean towards the portal with a nod of his head while he turned to face them alone, vowing to let the human escape without him. A brief glance back was of what he expected: Dean was conflicted, backing towards the portal with his eyes on Cas and the oncoming attack. Cas could see the wheels turning in his head and pressed him onward, again: "Dean, get out of here!"

Once he confirmed that Dean was withdrawing towards the portal, he raised his hand to issue his fight, but the lack of power surging through him made him falter. His hesitation was enough for him to be knocked to the ground, while the rotten creatures slithered past him towards the man now mere feet from the portal. Cas quickly regained his footing then raced after them, the purgatory scenery a gray blur and his legs rubbery from his fall. The first of the creatures gripped Dean around the shoulders and managed to bring him to the ground from behind. It pinned him to the hard dirt while Cas used physical strength to wrench the slower one off of the ravine.

Castiel watched as the sickening being brought its barely disguised claws up to wrap around Dean's neck, paying no mind to the ribbons of red that appeared from the path of its sharp nails. Cas' hand stretched forward towards what he knew was inevitable, a mere few feet from where he was standing. He closed his eyes to blacken the image he knew would accompany the sharp snap of the human's neck. When he reopened them, he was now the one with his hands around Dean's throat, having issued the final blow himself.

He woke then, sweat pooling at the back of his neck and dampening his sheets. Relief flooded through his body, reassured that he'd only been experiencing a dream. A "nightmare" as Sam called it. But Cas stood up quickly anyway, deciding to make sure Dean was still alive in consciousness. As he stepped through his doorway, he heard the front door slam, followed by the deep roar of the Impala's engine starting. Cas tiptoed to Sam's room, assuring that Dean had been the one to start it.

Unwilling to slip back into another restless sleep, Castiel paced around the rooms of the bunker, ill at ease with Dean out alone, even with his recent minor adjustments. His face fell at the thought and he let it remain in a frown for once, without anyone to see it. The emotion that seemed to plague him constantly now that he could actually feel emotions was what he dubbed to be guilt, and it hit him hard enough to bury him every time his thoughts ventured towards Dean or anything involving him. He did his best to keep what he was feeling hidden, kept his face blank, his words neutral. After all, Sam and Dean didn't go around proclaiming how they felt, surely he could handle the weight of the guilt, even if he felt like it was hard to breathe at times. The Winchesters had better things to do than hear about his problems, especially now that Dean was in the position that Cas had forced upon him.

He collapsed into one of the chairs in the kitchen, his face cradled in his hands. He had to admit as he traced the downward curve of his lips, it was a relief to let his emotions show outwardly. It made him a tiny bit less exhausted.

He moved his fingers to bury them in his hair, smoothing the wayward strands absentmindedly as he closed his eyes. He was at a loss of what to do. Of how to remedy the situation. Dean was an angel and Cas could see Dean viewed it as more of a hindrance than a blessing. Cas had felt bad enough by forcing such a vital part of himself into the mortal man without his permission in the first place, but Dean's constant outbursts just made him more frustrated and unable to come up with a solution. He sat that way for a couple hours, and a few tears were powerful enough to make their way through his mask and onto the hard wood of the kitchen table.

…

By the time Cas heard Sam's slow footsteps approaching from the hallway, his mask had been secured back into place and he sat back in a more leisurely position, his eyes dry and disinterested.

When he took in Cas' form in the kitchen, Sam straightened up in surprise. "Morning, Castiel," he offered after a second, already making his way to the coffee maker.

"Hello, Sam," he said in return, watching Sam's hands as they worked their practiced magic over the appliance.

After a moment, Sam noticed the man's stare and broke the silence: "You eaten, yet?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"No." Of the adjustments he'd had to make so far, Cas had had the most trouble with remembering to eat. He usually forgot until his stomach would growl loudly and remind him or if Sam reminded him. Wanting to get it himself, Cas found a loaf of bread and unwrapped it to dispense two pieces in the toaster. He meticulously wrapped it back up and put it away while he waited the undeterminable amount of time for his toast to pop back up.

He couldn't be sure, but he thought he heard a car door slam as he waited. He was so still and concentrated trying to be sure, when the toaster popped it made him jump. Sam chuckled at him from his spot at the table, keeping his eyes on the newspaper he was skimming.

He sliced off a pat of butter for each piece of bread, listening intently and hearing the outer door close on its hinges. He busied himself, working the butter over the entire surface, being a little more careful and precise than was probably necessary.

When he heard footsteps falling a little heavily outside the kitchen door, his pulse quickened and he worked to keep his eyes way from the sound's direction. When the door opened, Cas let his eyes glance quickly at Dean, though he pulled them away as soon as they met with his homemade angel's.

He inspected the image he'd absorbed as he continued spreading. The rumpled clothing that didn't quite sit right. The red coloring surrounding Dean's mouth. He was desperate to know where he'd been, what he'd been doing, but he was appeased enough to see him alive and in person.

"What have you been up to?" He heard Sam ask with a joking edge to his voice. Castiel wasn't sure why. He waited for Dean to answer him. When Sam got up to leave the room, he felt his eyes tighten into slits; he worked to relax them. He moved over to take Sam's place at the table and to eat his toast. While Dean poured himself some coffee, Cas' curiosity got the better of him as he found himself repeating Sam's question.

"How did you spend your sleepless night?" Upon his question, Dean turned, his eyes alight with… what? Excitement?

His answer was not one that Castiel had expected: "Went to a bar. Got laid." There was a smugness to Dean's answer and in his smile that forced a feeling to swell up in Cas' chest. Yet another that he couldn't identify. He felt his face slipping into a grimace once again but he straightened it with some effort, responding to Dean with what he thought was the correct situational retort.

"Sounds like fun."

He deposited his plate in the sink and left the room as quickly as he could. Being around Dean, he'd found, only made it that much harder to stay afloat. To tread above the feelings that threatened to drown and crush him. He wanted to hear Dean's take on the situation desperately but the remorse for what he'd done that he envisioned every time he looked at Dean (who usually just scowled back at him) was too difficult. Instead he returned to his room, remembering that he needed to dress for the day.