It had been a tremendously long night and although Dean's mind was exploding with thoughts and worries, the idea of sleep was sounding more and more attractive. So, unable to resist anymore, he figured he'd check in for the night. He figured he wouldn't be able to sleep, but he was pretty much out the second his head hit the pillow.

The next day was spent in seemingly an instant. It was just a day. He worked the case. He did his research, he went into town, he ate meals. He barely remembered any of it, honestly. It was funny, how when something was on your mind other things could just pass you right by like cars on the highway. Sam didn't talk to him. He noticed that.

He wasn't really paying attention to much until Cas arrived. Dean had his nose in a book on vampires and he was sat at the table. It still startled him when he casually glanced up and found the man waiting there just next to him with his stone cold eyes. He jumped, letting the book fall to the table.

"Dammit!" he hissed, "I thought I said not to do that!"

"S-sorry," Castiel responded. He hesitated a moment. "I'm going now."

Dean sat rapidly up, closing the book, which had fallen to a random page. He creased his eyebrows, looking in concern at Cas. "Now, wait just a second," he insisted, "You're really going through with this?"

Cas nodded. "Yes," he told him. Dean read over him slowly, hoping to find some trace of emotion. But there was no hint, he was set in stone. What was he up to? Surely he didn't just… care?

"Look, you can't just do this," Dean insisted, "I have to have some clue to what's going on. You're going into Hell for me and I still don't know why! You have to give me some sort of explanation!"
The angel turned his eyes away and shook his head. "I don't want you to die. Does it have to be more complicated than that?"

"Yes," Dean answered. He stood, his chair scooching out from behind him. "You're going into Hell, Cas, Hell, and for what? You're trying to tell me you care about me, but why? I never did anything for you."

"Yes, you did," Cas replied defensively.

"I wrote to you!" Dean cried back. "Nothing to merit this! You have to tell me!"
"I don't know!" Cas suddenly interrupted. He sighed, "I don't… know, okay? I don't understand but there's something about you that…" he trailed off, his eyes locking with Dean's and then looking the rest of him over. Dean shivered. It was like he could see straight into his soul.

"That what?" Dean asked.

"That I would do anything for," Cas said softly. A gentle wariness passed over his eyes and Dean knew he was telling the truth. It didn't mean he understood, but this angel… he really just cared about him. But slowly, Dean shook his head. He could explain it. This was like a movie; irrational, unrealistic. It was probably more normal than it looked… what with how weird it looked, it had to be, right?

"No, you can't," Dean insisted, "I don't know what happened specifically but this isn't… love, or caring, that wouldn't make any sense," he looked Cas in the eyes and spoke quietly, almost comfortingly. "It's sentiment. I was there… you needed someone to talk to, I mean, we've all been there but don't call it more than it is. I was glad I could be of service but… I don't think you care about me as much as you think you do."

Cas looked down, considering this. Maybe he was right. I mean, it was a decent idea. He was the first human to take an interest in talking him since… ever. Maybe he was just filling some kind of void. Still, it didn't feel like sentiment.

"You fail to notice Dean," Cas said, the gears grinding in his head as he pulled his eyes back up to Dean's, "You yourself would benefit a great amount from me retrieving your soul. What does it matter to you whether it's caring or sentiment, the clever thing to do would be to use me."

Dean let his jaw wag for a moment and he stuck his hands in his pockets. Nothing could be said about that, and going over his own words, he surprised himself. He could use him. Why didn't he?

"Well it's not… the right thing to do," he tacked on, somewhat pathetically. This brought a smile to Cas' face.

"That's very good of you Dean," Cas told him honestly, "But... " his smile vanished, "I need to get your soul. For me. I just… maybe it is sentiment, but I'm not going to let you die." He spoke fast and cast a glance downward, almost looking guilty. Dean stood up straight and looked him in the eyes.

"Thank you," he said solidly. Cas' eyes flicked up to Dean's and a small gasp was pulled in from his lips. His chest swelled and his eyes went wide like no one had ever thanked him before. Like no one had ever shown him any kindness at all. He opened his mouth to speak but he hardly seemed to know what to say.

"I…" he managed out, but that was all that came. A thousand words shoved themselves through the doorway in his mind to follow it, but none of them made it to his lips. He could hardly believe some of the things it occurred to him to say, I… don't understand, don't mind…

Love you.

But without another word, he vanished into thin air.

Dean stared at the space before him for another few moments. Outrageous, he thought. I don't care. I don't care.

He muttered it once to himself, but even when he spoke it, it sounded ingenuine. Before he could question himself further, he sat back down and returned to his research.

He didn't know how long passed, but it felt like days with nothing changing. He wasn't paying attention to what he was reading, and practically begging for a distraction. What he didn't expect however, was for Sam to come in and lean against the wall beside him. Dean glanced up and then quickly turned back to his book as he walked in, pretending he didn't notice anything. Sam shyly bit his lip and kept his eyes turned to the ground.

"Cas is gone?" he asked.

"Yeah," Dean responded.

"You know how long?"
"No. Is it important?"

"No."

They paused in silence. Dean stared at the word 'the' in his book, not even reading anymore.

"So… you're gonna be alright?" Sam asked slowly.

Dean swallowed and nodded. "Yeah," he said, "Yeah, I'll be fine."

Sam paused, looking up at the ceiling. "Why'd you do it, Dean?" he asked, "I was ready to die."

"Yeah, well, that wasn't gonna happen and you knew it," Dean snapped in response.

"Why not? Because you couldn't make it without me, because of you!" Sam stood up from the wall and Dean snapped his book shut and put it down, not even faking it anymore.

"I did it to protect you!" Dean told him.

"I didn't-" Sam cut himself off, fury blazing behind his eyes. "I didn't come here to start a fight, I just…" he stopped, contemplating his words. "I just… want to put this behind us."

"Alright!" Dean said, a little more forcefully than he intended. He repeated it more softly to get his intentions across. "Alright…"

"Alright," Sam repeated. He thought if there was anything else to add, but Dean knew everything it would have occurred to him to say, and it was the same the other way around. All they could do now was get over it.

"I guess I'll-" Sam began, starting towards the door. He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes locking on the space just beside the table. Dean turned to, giving a shocked look to the same area of space. The position in space that Cas had just recently appeared in, disheveled, panting, and thoroughly bloodied and hurt. One hand was used to support himself, leaning on the table, and the other to cover a bleeding wound across his gut, soaked in blood.

Nobody spoke for a long time. Cas looked between the two brothers. "It is done," he told them finally. Then, he collapsed on the ground.

Cas didn't remember how long ago it was.

He was one of the best angels in the militia, he knew that. It wasn't hard to get there, it wasn't "I say jump, you say how high," it was just to jump. To do anything the higher up said, no questions, in a completely literal and absolute sense. Complete and total faith brought you to the top. Easy.

But recently a conversation had brought him to think something somewhat different. Uriel, Samandriel, and Annabel were gathered around, off duty as of now and discussing the antics of heaven. They didn't really get angry as such, but they seemed displeased. Cas found himself in a tight knit circle of gossip, but he remained silent.

"Have you heard about the angels that fell?" Uriel sneered, "Disgusting, I can hardly believe it would happen even once, much less multiple times!"

"It just disappoints me," Samandriel squeaked, "What on Earth would an angel want to go to Earth with those stinking humans for?"

"I heard they spent time down there, got attached to free will," snapped Annabel.

"Ridiculous! What could you want with that?" replied Uriel.

"No clue," said Samandriel, "Apparently some of the angels took a liking to some of the humans down below, too."

"Repulsive," scoffed Annabel, "I couldn't imagine such a disgrace.

Like I said, Cas didn't speak, but it couldn't help but spark a few questions inside him. What would someone fall for? What did they find on Earth? What was on Earth at all, anymore? He hadn't been on the surface in millions of years, and there were no people, no houses, no opinions, just savage creatures. He never understood what was so great about the Earth, but he was assured that these creatures had a long way to go. Where were they now? What had they become?

So, he figured, he had time off. He'd visit Earth, see what the big deal was, the return to Heaven. Just pop down and find out what it was like.

Everything was different.

Towers reaching up towards the skies dwindled into the distance, machines and people rushed back and forth, the ground was hard and painted gray. People were everywhere, dressed in bright clothes and holding glowing boxes to their faces or ears. It had become a strange world, but an interesting one. He found himself in a city, one of the most major on the planet. It was called New York.

The first day he arrived he found himself strangely drawn in by certain places and sights, people and things. He couldn't quite explain it, but the city kept him on his feet. As soon as he saw one thing, another caught his eye and he was lead there. The city was overwhelmingly intriguing.

Of course, at this point he was invisible and just taking a look. He had to get back, and he did.

It surprised him to find that on more and more of his spare time he was in the city called New York, looking around and seeing the life there. He even found a vessel, a nun named Margaret Clarkson, in her early twenties with blue eyes and curly black hair. He wandered the city, crashing into people and hardly able to see where he was going. There were various cries of "watch it!" and "hey, I'm walking!" but he ignored them. He didn't know what to do in response anyway.

He didn't remember how many times he went out to the same city and still he didn't see all of it. It was amazing. How was it even possible? But like all good things, it wouldn't last.

Castiel went down like he usually did, entering his vessel (who was eager as always, a religious, willing girl who apparently told her family and friends about her situation involving angels) and walking around the city. He intended to go to a new restaurant today. He didn't eat, but the look of it seemed pleasant and interesting. But about halfway there, he felt a coldness rush over him like a tsunami and his breath being stolen away from him. He could feel himself being stretched and pulled like clay until he was looking out over his vessel, sputtering and coughing on the ground, and he rocketed at a thousand miles an hour into the sky.

Only when he landed in heaven did he see who had pulled him. Gabriel.

"What the Hell have you been doing?!" he shouted, dropping Castiel carelessly on the floor. He winced, the pressure from the ground still aching. He didn't stand, just looked away.

"How was your little party with humans, Castiel?! How was it, huh?! Huh?!" he grabbed him by the shoulder and forced him to stand. Castiel just sighed and looked away.

"I'm not doing anything wrong, nobody told me I couldn't!"

"Cas, that isn't how it works!" his brother shouted back at him, "Just because nobody tells you you can't doesn't mean you should!"

"But I can," he double checked.

"My God, you really are ignorant! Can you see in color?! You shouldn't, it's different!"

"And why… shouldn't I?"

"Cas, what if you wanna fall, get too attached?! You'll be like one of them!"

"And what's wrong with them?"

"Cas, they're mortals! Why have you been down there anyway, you don't have to be!"
"Because it's different!" Cas insisted, suddenly raising his voice. Gabriel shut his mouth and let him continue. "All these humans, all these places, they're like snowflakes! Hand-crafted by our father! And I don't know what it is inside me, but I want to see all of it!" he continued loudly, his anger turning slowly into passion, "Just, all I've learned and from just one city, it's more than all I've learned in Heaven! Just… the details! Listen, there is a man, he lives on the corner of the street, he calls himself Joseph! He works at a building down the streets, b-but he works a night shift at a club miles away as an entertainer! On top of that, the club is just above the cafe at which he and his current partner meet, her favorite cafe, and every day they go he has to hide it! And this is just one detail about one person in one city in one country! Isn't it amazing!?"

Gabriel gave him a long look, a mix of fear, awe, and anger, and slowly shook his head. "It's like you've already fallen," he finally told him. Then, in an instant, he was gone.

Castiel didn't go back down to Earth. He remained in Heaven. He found himself in one of his favorite places, a summer's day, the Heaven to an autistic man who had drowned in a bathtub. It was beautiful, but he could feel odd emotions, pure and raw, bubbling up inside him. Anger. Betrayal. Sadness.

That was, of course, until a series of words flashed through his head. Well, not words themselves, more like… a notification. His prayer box being activated. Without hesitation and biologically unable to resist, he went to the source.

The box was practically glowing, but he took a moment to look around it. It sat under a squeaky, plain bed in a cracking, plain room. It was lined with knives and weapons, with a young boy in the middle, sleeping on the shabby bed. After looking around, he took the box. Inside, there was a note. He read it over.

I found a box today. It's little and made of wood and has letters from a different language on it. I didn't show dad. I don't think he'd care anyway. Stupid jerkface is too busy hunting stupid vampires. And Sammy can't read, so I'm not too worried. The school here is awful. Everybody thinks I'm weird because I can't tell them about my life because that would make me even more weird. I hate them too.

PS. this doesn't count as a diary cause diaries are for girls.

He couldn't help but feel a smile to his face. And something else, too. Like… a sort of warmth in his chest. After reading it over, he glanced up at the sleeping boy. His soul was damaged, but innocent. And his physical form… the same. He had spiky hair, slept in his clothes (jeans and a flannel) and a soft face. He somehow looked angry and intense in his sleep, but there was something else about him. His innocence, his youth… what was it.

He was cute.

Cas smiled. Yes, the boy was little and cute and his note was kind and genuine. That was his opinion, no one else's. He could like this boy. He should. He would. He could be part of humanity and be like the humans were. He could be part of this thousand thread tapestry. He would. He should.

He answered the letter. He smiled at the boy for another moment, letting that strange warm substance flood into his chest again. This could work, he thought. I could be like they are. And no one can stop me from being with him.

He's cute. I will protect him.