CHAPTER 6

By unspoken agreement, none of them said a word the whole drive back to the motel. Dean knew that there was a whole lot that had to be said – understatement – but they might as well get somewhere safe and comfortable before they brought up that whole pile of crap.

And maybe part of that was the fact that he was definitely not ready to say anything. He needed the five-minute drive to try to clear his head a bit. Although, five minutes didn't seem nearly long enough, considering that he was trying to figure out how the hell his boyfriend had somehow turned into some sort of Heavenly warrior.

Then they reached the motel, and it was time to actually talk this out.

Cas started off, sitting ramrod straight in the chair, hands folded on the table in front of him, even though he was pale enough that he looked like he should definitely be in bed. Dean had tried to convince him to at least lie down – it wasn't like he couldn't talk from the bed just as easily – but Cas had just shaken his head. And Dean didn't know what was making him so stubborn about this, but he hadn't argued too much, anyway.

Sam took the seat across from Cas, while Dean paced back and forth across the room as he listened to Cas go on and on about angels and Lucifer and mind control. And Sam had tried a few times to insist that Dean needed to stop moving so much before he did something to reopen his wounds – honestly, it was a frickin' miracle that that hadn't happened already – but Dean hadn't listened. He needed to be moving. It made it easier. So okay, maybe he did understand why Cas was being so stubborn.

It wasn't until Cas finally paused that Dean stopped pacing, and spun to face him. "Okay," he said. "So, you're an angel. Hester's an angel. Fucking everyone is an angel, and they're trying to end the world."

Cas frowned, looking confused for a moment. "Not everyone is an angel," he said slowly. "Actually, the number of humans now exceeds the number of angels, particularly if you count the souls which exist in Heaven-"

"Not the point, Cas," Dean said, and Cas' mouth immediately snapped closed. Dean let out a long breath, reaching up to rub his forehead with one hand, covering his eyes for just a moment. "Okay, so let's make sure I've got this right. Some of the demons have this plan to free Lucifer from Hell so that humanity can be destroyed, and the angels are going along with it so that they can stick Michael into some prizefight. One on one against Lucifer, and if he loses then humanity is fucked. That right?"

Cas nodded slowly. "Well, to borrow your term," he said slowly, "I believe that humanity would be 'fucked' no matter which side won." He even made air quotes with his fingers and everything. And it was weird, because Dean was still trying to figure out how he was supposed to reconcile all of this in his head – deal with the fact that Cas was apparently some all-powerful angel. Then he went and did something dorky like that, and Dean could see it. Okay, there Cas was. Still the same weird guy that Dean had fallen for.

Then Cas added, "Michael's victory over Lucifer would be the best case scenario, but it would still come with heavy casualties. I can't even tell you how many angels died in the first war against Lucifer. The deaths ranged in the high thousands, which I know is not much for a human conflict, but for a group of immortal beings, that is an extremely high number." He broke off for a moment, grimacing. "I just- Believe me when I say that I speak from personal experience, and we do not want a repeat of that war." And all of a sudden, the resemblance to the human guy that Dean had fallen in love with was so much harder to see. Cas had fought in an angel war. Against Lucifer. What the hell was Dean supposed to think about that?

"Yeah, I bet," Sam said dryly, then shook his head. "Okay, so we've got to find some way to keep Lucifer from breaking free. And on top of that, you've got some angel going around trying to mind control you."

"Naomi," Cas said, his voice low. "She has discovered a way to rewrite the minds of the angels, yes." His face darkened, a scowl appearing on his face. "And she always erases our knowledge of what she's doing, so that she can't be found out."

"Sounds like a bitch," Dean said, keeping his voice light, but Cas immediately shook his head. Okay, so smartass comments weren't appreciated then. Good to know.

"It's not just that, Dean," Cas insisted. "I don't think that you've considered the implications of what she's been doing. Who knows how long she has been rewriting our minds, or how often she has done so." He shook his head again, then reached up, two fingertips barely touching his temples. "Everything that I knew about being an angel could very well be a lie," he said slowly, then looked up, meeting Dean's eyes. "Angels are designed to be obedient. Before I decided to save you, I never knew a single one of my brethren who would ever even think about going against what they had been told to do. It's a part of who were are, written into our wiring." He paused again, and let his hand drop to his lap. "Now, I wonder who created us to be this way, whether we were designed by God or by Naomi." Another pause, and then- "Who are we, even, if Naomi has been changing us for as long as we can remember? And who does that make me?"

Dean swallowed. Okay, so, Dean wasn't usually one for the philosophical shit, but he could see why Cas was getting so upset about that now.

He moved over toward the table. There was a third seat, in between Sam and Cas, so Dean pulled it out and dropped into it. Once he'd done that, though, he wasn't really sure what he was supposed to say to Cas to make it better. So finally, he leaned forward and clasped Cas on the shoulder. "Well," he said, "I guess you have the chance to figure this out. Just, you know, don't let Naomi change you again, and whatever you do now, I guess that's who you are." Okay, so maybe he could get behind this philosophizing stuff. Just a little.

Cas stared Dean in the eye for a moment, then slowly nodded his head. "Yes," he said. "I suppose that that's what I will have to do."

They stayed like that for about ten seconds, until Sam cleared his throat. "So then," he said, looking over at Cas, "you didn't remember any of this while you were traveling with us?"

"Nothing," Cas confirmed, then hesitated, and said, "Well, I suppose that's not entirely accurate. I had flashes of memory sometimes, but never anything useful – certainly never anything that made me believe that I was an angel. But I was able to hear their voices."

"Wait, what?" Dean said.

Cas nodded. "I am sorry, but particularly after you claimed that angels didn't exist, I didn't want to risk telling you and having you throw me back to the streets," he admitted, then frowned and added, "I would have told you, I promise, back at the same time that I came clean about my lack of memories. But you said that I should keep my last secret to myself for the moment."

Yeah, Dean did remember saying that. He'd figured that it wouldn't be fair to force Cas to tell him everything – if he'd done that, then he would've felt like he had to repay the favor, and there was no way that he had been about to tell Cas about selling his soul. Still, though, Dean hadn't realized that his secret had been something like this.

"So you've just been... listening to them talk this whole time?" Sam asked.

Cas turned to him, nodding. "Well, their voices were faint, which made it difficult to understand what they spoke of most of the time. But yes, there were times when I could overhear them quite clearly."

"But, how?" Sam asked.

Cas tilted his head, considering the question. "All angels can communicate with each other using certain electromagnetic frequencies," he said after a moment. "I can go into a full explanation if you wish. In our true forms, angels-"

"Okay, okay," Dean said, quickly, before Cas could get much further. "You can spare us the science lecture, we don't need to get into that right now." And Sam, fucking geek boy that he was, actually looked disappointed for a while, and Dean got the feeling that the first chance Sam got, he was going to be begging Cas to tell him more. For now, though, he didn't say anything to protest, and Dean added, "So then, angels can hear this special angel radio station, or whatever. Got it. So then, why were you still listening to them as a human?"

Cas frowned, tilting his head even more, until he ended up looking completely ridiculous. "I'm not a hundred percent certain," he finally said. "But I know that I am not the first human to be able to communicate with the angels. Some humans possess the latent psychic ability necessary to listen when the angels speak to them. My guess is that the fact that I had once been an angel meant that I also possessed a stronger version of this ability, allowing me to hear the angels even when they didn't wish for me to listen." Then he frowned, and added, "There was a period where something prevented me from hearing their voices. I'm not entirely sure what caused it."

"Huh, that's weird," Dean said, and frowned. "You got a theory?"

Cas paused a moment, then nodded. "Hester was the only angel who knew of my existence, and only an angel could do such a thing. My guess would be that she had tried to prevent me from hearing the voices, though I'm not sure why her attempts at blocking the angels' words wasn't always successful."

Yeah, Dean didn't get that part, either. Still, though, it sounded like as good an explanation as any, and considering everything else that was going on, finding out the exact answer didn't seem quite as urgent as it probably should be. So instead of thinking about it further, he mentally filed that one under "Shit we have to figure out later", then moved on to the newest question on "Shit to figure out right fucking now" list. "So then, you're still hearing the angels right now? What are they saying?"

Cas shook his head. "I don't know," he said, and didn't sound happy. Which, well, no shit, of course he wasn't. "I could hear their voices in the background of my mind when I first woke in the hospital – far clearer than I had ever heard them while I was human, though I was too disoriented to focus on what they were saying." Then his frown deepened, and he added, "I stopped being able to hear them shortly after we were reunited at the library, around the time that I had first seen Hester following us."

Now, Dean was frowning, too. "You think she did something?"

Cas shook his head, but said, "I don't know. Possibly. I would blame Naomi more readily than Hester, though. I doubt that she would allow me to continue listening to her and her angels, now that she knows that I am alive."

"Any idea how to start listening in again?" Sam asked, leaning forward. Dean waited for the answer. Because honest, he had to admit that whatever was going on, it'd be incredibly frickin' useful if Cas could listen in on Naomi.

But Cas just said, "No. I have tried, and it has not worked." He hesitated, then said, "Before... Communicating with my brethren was as simple as speaking – or, even simpler, actually. Angels weren't originally made to speak – we had no reason to do so, when we could already communicate with one another through electromagnetic waves. Language was a thing that we adopted from the humans."

"So, basically this wavelength thing it came easy for you," Dean said. He was pretty sure he'd translated Cas' angel-speak correctly, at least.

"Yes," Cas confirmed with a nod. "But now, I can't feel the frequencies the way that I should be able to."

"What does that mean?" Sam asked, looking like he was torn between interested and worried. This whole time, he'd been looking at Cas like he was some science fair project or a textbook, something new and interesting for Sam to figure out. And honest, Dean might've gotten pissed at that, expect that it was also obvious that Sam was scared more than anything else, and that he wanted to figure this whole thing out more for Cas' sake than his own.

"I don't know," Cas said slowly, then rubbed his eyes with the heel of one hand before saying, "All I know is that I'm exhausted, and starving, and my whole body aches from where I collided with that car. These are definitely things that I didn't experience back when I was an angel."

Dean and Sam exchanged a look. Dean just raised his eyebrows and shook his head slightly – he didn't know what any of this meant, and he sure as fuck didn't know what he was going to say in response. Sam inclined his head just a tiny bit, then turned back to Cas. "So, does that mean you're human again?" Sam asked slowly.

"No," Cas said after just a moment's pause. "No, I don't think I am. Or, if I had never lived as a human, then I probably would have said that yes, I feel completely human. But I've experienced what humanity is like, and no, this doesn't feel the same." He hesitated, biting his lower lip, then said, "I don't know what the difference is, to be honest. My powers are gone. I can't feel my wings, if I even still have them. For all practical purposes, I suppose that you could say that I am human, even if I still possess my grace. But it just... doesn't feel right, I suppose."

Dean frowned. "What are you, then?" he asked. "What happens when an angel loses its batteries?"

"I don't know," Cas said. He blinked down at his hands. "An angel drawing banishing sigils in its own blood- I'm certain that this has never been attempted before. I don't know what happens as a result, or what I am now."

None of them said anything for a moment. Cas continued to stare down at his hands like he'd never seen them before in his life, while Dean sat there, feeling awkward as hell and pretty much like the worst guy ever, to not say anything else. Then he cleared his throat and pulled out his phone. "You said you're hungry, right?" he asked, and stood, heading over to the phone book that was sitting on the kitchen counter. "I'll find someplace that delivers."

Cas smiled slightly. "Thank you, Dean," he said.

"'Course," Dean grunted. There were two new messages from Dad – he must not have noticed the vibrations when he'd been watching Cas face off against Hester – but now, he barely thought twice before exiting out of them, then flipping open the phone book.

Dean ended up going with a local pizza place that advertised based on it's "super freaky fast delivery", since Cas hadn't eaten any real food in about two days now, so Dean figured the quicker, the better. The ad was right about the delivery speed – it took less than ten minutes for the deliveryman to knock on their door. Turns out it'd been lying when it said that the food was also "freaky good". Honestly, it tasted more like soggy cardboard with cheese, and Dean barely managed to eat half of one before he shoved his plate away. Cas didn't seem to mind, though, of the way he shoveled down piece after piece was any indication.

Briefly, Dean wondered if Cas was supposed to be eating this much – were there any sort of special diet thing that people were supposed to follow when they'd just gotten out of a coma? Shit, Dean honestly didn't have a clue. It hadn't been anything that he'd had to worry about, considering his own miraculous healing. The food didn't seem to be bothering Cas, though, so after a moment, Dean shrugged and figured that it was probably fine.

"So," Sam finally asked, after Cas had started to slow down on the pizza, "how exactly did you become human, then?" Dean immediately turned toward Cas – he wanted to hear this answer, too. Cas had mentioned it earlier, but he hadn't said anything except that it had happened, and this was something that Dean definitely wanted to hear the details about. "Hester, what? She turned you human?"

Cas nodded, and swallowed his mouthful before answering. "Yes. She cut out my grace." And Dean was about to ask what exactly that meant, but Cas must've realized that he was going to, because he was already answering, "An angel's grace is unique to each angel, and works as the source of its power. I guess that the closest equivalent would be a human soul."

Sam nodded slowly. "So then, what happened after she cut out your grace?" Cas immediately looked down, a frown appearing on his face, and Sam quickly said, "Sorry, I just don't exactly understand. Like, you were human?"

"It is alright," Cas assured him quickly, though he continued to frown as he nodded. "Yes," he said. "When an angel loses their grace, they become fully human." He hesitated for another moment.

"What is it?" Dean asked. "Something bothering you? Besides, you know, the Naomi mind control junk, and the fact that you got made into a human in the first place." Sam immediately rolled his eye, sending Dean a bitch glare that made it clear exactly what he thought of Dean's tact. Dean just shrugged. Okay, nobody had ever told him that he was subtle.

If Cas was bothered by the question, though, he didn't show it. Instead, he just turned toward Dean, and inclined his head once. "Yes," he said, his voice low. It took him another moment before he continued. "In most cases, angels take a human vessel – that is, a human allows their body to be possessed so that the angel can take control. It is the only way that angels can walk on Earth. Our true forms are too powerful for humans to comprehend, as Sam can attest to." He nodded toward Sam once, then turned back toward Dean, watching his face carefully, like he was waiting for a reaction.

And he definitely got one. It took a moment for the words to catch up to Dean's mind and start making sense, but Cas definitely got his reaction. "Wait," he said suddenly, rearing back, eyes widening and he glanced up and down Cas' body. "You're saying that this- That you're possessing-"

"No," Cas said, and Dean paused for a moment, then relaxed slightly. Okay, that was good. He'd freaked out enough thinking that he'd unknowingly been fucking a married guy. The last thing he needed was to find out that this Jimmy guy had been inside Cas' head this whole time. Not to mention that that would have to suck for Jimmy, too.

"Angels possess human bodies," Cas repeated, putting emphasis on the first word, then waiting like he expected that to have some sort of meaning to Dean. When Dean didn't say anything, he added, "I became human when my grace was removed, meaning that I had a human soul. And a soul is incredibly powerful – a body would never be able to hold more than one."

"Okay," Dean said slowly, drawing out the word. "So what happened to Jimmy, then?"

For a moment, Cas was silent.

"Heaven, I hope," he finally said, his voice quiet enough that Dean could barely make it out. "An angel falling from grace and taking a human vessel- It is essentially the same as that human dying, at least in terms of what happens to the human's soul. Essentially, Jimmy died when I took his body, and now, I am all that remains."

None of them said a word. Then Sam cleared his throat. "So, that's what you meant when you said that you weren't Jimmy Novak."

"Yes, it is exactly what I meant," Cas said. "This may be his body, but I have never been him, and it has been months since he has inhabited it."

And… Okay, Dean got that this had to suck for Jimmy, the real Jimmy, the one that was in Heaven or wherever (and Jesus, Dean still couldn't get used to the idea that Heaven was a real place, not just some perfect fantasy that the religious nutjobs tried to sell you). Getting kicked out of your body like that, completely out of nowhere? That had to suck. But was it fucked up that his first thought was about how frickin' relieved he was?

Cas wasn't Jimmy. Cas wasn't married. That was one huge fuckup that he could erase from his list, at least.

"Anyway," Cas suddenly said, in a voice that made it obvious that he didn't want to talk about Jimmy and longer. "The demons wouldn't have been able to find us if the angels hadn't told them our location. The sigils will prevent that from happening again, so we should be safe for now, but we still need to be careful. If I'm awake, then it's likely that Naomi has recovered from the effects as well, and she will come looking for us."

"Okay, so we try to fly under the radar for a while," Sam said.

Dean couldn't help it – he snorted. "Yeah," he said, "because that always works so well for us."

Sam just glared. "Worth a try, at least."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean said. And he would've said anything more, but then Cas yawned. It looked like he was doing his best to hide how tired he way – the same way that he was trying hard to hide the fact that he was barely managing to keep himself upright in his chair – but Dean decided that this was enough. "Alright," he said, getting to his feet and reaching over to grab Cas by the arm and help him up. "Any other questions we have, we can answer them later. You're going to haul your ass to bed right now."

Cas looked like he was going to argue, but then he yawned again. After that, he didn't argue. Instead, he ducked his head and admitted, "Going to bed sounds wonderful, actually."

"Yeah, I bet," Dean said, allowing Cas to lean against his shoulder as they crossed the room.

Sam also got to his feet. "Cas, you said that we should be safe as long as we have our hex bags and the sigils, right?" When Cas nodded, Sam said, "I'm going to head to the library, then. I want to get some research done."

Dean shot him a look. He didn't doubt that Sam actually did want to go look shit up online, just like he always did in reaction to absolutely everything, but Dean knew for a fact that he'd just bought himself a brand new laptop, and he'd been getting good wifi on it earlier that day. There was absolutely no reason why he couldn't do his research here, except that he was obviously giving Cas and Dean some time alone. And honest, Dean didn't know if he should thank him or slap him.

Sam slipped out of the room without saying anything more, and Cas carefully lowered himself to the bed.

"You want to change out of those hospital scrubs?" Dean asked, and made a vague gesture toward the bag that he'd thrown in one of the corners. "Don't have a whole lot of clothes left, and most of them are dirty stuff I managed to dig out of the trunk, but it'd be better than those things."

Cas smiled, but then another yawn split his face, and he shook his head. "Thank you," he said. "Maybe after I wake up."

Dean shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said, and started to step away from the bed, but Cas reached out and grabbed his wrist.

"You should lie down beside me," he said, scooting over to make room. "You look as though you could use the rest as much as I could."

Dean couldn't exactly deny that – not in his head, at least. Out loud, he definitely was never going to admit it. "I'm good," he said. "Sammy made me lie down for a nap earlier like a good little boy," he added, rolling his eyes. "I'm fine."

Cas didn't look like he believed that, but at least he refrained from saying so. That was more than Sam ever did, at least. "Alright," he agreed, but still tugged Dean closer to the bed. "Then you should lie down beside me, just because I have been worried about you, and it will be nice to have you here."

And, well, Dean wasn't going to argue with that one. Especially since he had probably been way more freaked out about Cas than Cas had been over him, and definitely for a way longer time.

So he slipped his leather jacket off – the motel was too warm to be wearing it, anyway – and threw it over the back of the nearest chair before he climbed into the bed. He made sure to stay sitting up, his back against the headboard, which was this uncomfortable wooden thing with weird designs carved into the surface, which stuck into his back and made it impossible to get comfortable. Which was a good thing, and helped him to fight the heaviness of his eyes and keep himself from dozing off.

Cas immediately moved closer to Dean, his head on Dean's lap, his cheek pressed against Dean's uninjured leg and his eyes closing immediately. Dean ran one hand through Cas' hair – because, well, it was right there, and Dean liked playing with hair, alright? Besides, it wasn't like Cas was going to tell anyone. He hoped.

Not to mention the fact that Cas was right here, and after spending days worried that Dean was going to lose him one way or another, there was no way in hell that Dean was going to keep his hands to himself now that he finally had the chance to do stuff like this.

"You're going to have to explain to me how you and Sam managed to escape the hellhounds," Cas said, his voice quiet. "I haven't heard of anyone doing so before. I want to hear the full story."

Dean nodded, and brushed Cas' hair out of his face. "Okay," he agreed, then added, "And you're going to have to tell me more about Hester, and becoming human, and all that."

Cas didn't say anything, but he made a noise of agreement, and squirmed closer to Dean, not opening his eyes.

Dean couldn't stop staring at him. He looked exactly the same as he had before this whole mess, was still sleeping in the same position he always did, curled up in a ball and wrapped around Dean. If he tried, he was pretty sure that he could pretend that this was completely normal, that the past three days hadn't happened and that Cas wasn't an angel. Although, he wasn't sure if Cas being an angel was better or worse than Cas not remembering anything. Probably better, Dean figured. But way weirder, though.

The question popped into his head completely out of nowhere, and his brain must've been wired straight to his mouth, because he didn't take the time to think it over before he said, "Hey, Cas? One more thing."

Cas blinked his eyes open, then propped himself up on one elbow, looking up at Dean. "Yes?"

"You said that you got a soul when you became human," Dean said slowly. "So then, what happens after you turned into an angel again? You still have one?"

Cas' face shifted, turning- not wary, exactly. Also not entirely upset. More like some sort of weird combo of the two, the kind that made Dean think that maybe this hadn't been the right question to ask.

"I don't know," Cas said after a moment, then amended, "No, I don't think that I do. Have a soul, I mean." He paused, pushing himself up further, looking up at Dean's eyes. "Does that matter?"

Dean shrugged and shook his head. "Don't think so," he said. "I was just wondering."

And okay, Cas definitely looked nervous now. "Are you certain?" he asked carefully. "Because I don't wish-"

Dean quickly cut him off. "Cas," he said, "trust me, yesterday I wouldn't have said that souls were real. Except in the sense that, y'know, when people die there's sometimes a part of them that sticks behind. But I'm not about to get into that religious morality shit about our souls being the thing that makes us human." Or, sure, he knew that you could sell your soul to a demon, or something like that. Still, though, it always seemed more like a metaphorical thing than an actual, you-literally-own-my-soul-now thing.

"In a sense, though, it is," Cas said. "No other creature has a soul – or, at least, no other creature have a soul in the same way that a human has a soul. Especially not angels."

Dean thought that over for a moment, then shrugged. "Whatever," he said, mostly because he'd seen enough already today that he couldn't imagine or wrap his head around, and there was no reason to add souls to that list. He figured he was better off just ignoring the whole idea. Not that it really seemed to matter one way or the other, anyway. "Just go to sleep," Dean added to Cas. "Sorry I woke you up."

Cas was still frowning, but slowly, he nodded and lowered himself back onto the bed, returning his head to Dean's lap. After that, it was only a couple of minutes before he was passed out and snoring, and then Dean tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling and trying to figure out what exactly had just happened to his life.

For Dean, the next few hours were spent creeping down dark alleys where the walls kept vanishing and reappearing, and he jumped every time he saw a shadow twitch in the corner of his eye. The whole time, he was just waiting for something to come barreling out of the darkness, to tackle him to the ground and rip him to shreds. He was certain that it was going to happen, any second now- It didn't, but he kept waiting- And waiting- The anticipation almost made it worse, until he wanted it to just happen, get it over with, stop making him flinch every time he saw the shadows move or heard some growl appear off in the distance.

He woke with an awful crick in his neck, probably from falling asleep still sitting up in that horrible, uncomfortable bed. Shitty idea that had been, Dean thought, scowling and rubbing the back of his neck to try to loosen up the knots. If he'd been going to sleep anyway, then he might as well have laid down next to Cas. That way his neck at least wouldn't have been killing him now.

It hadn't been the worst dream, though. And sure, it might've left him feeling like his skin was crawling all over, and he still couldn't shake the feeling that some hellhound was still going to hunt him down and rip him open any second, even if he knew that that wasn't gonna happen. But still, he'd gotten some sleep. That was something, at least.

Dean slowly blinked his eyes open, and glanced down at the bed. The space behind him was empty.

"Cas?" Dean called, swinging his legs off the side of the bed and looking around the motel. He didn't bother checking the clock, but based on the fact that it was still light out, he figured that it couldn't have been more than a few hours. Unless he'd somehow slept through the whole night, but he doubted it.

Dean took a step forward, turning in a circle to look around the room, trying to find some sign of him. He couldn't see anything, except for the shadows that kept growing darker by the second, and immediately started writhing, just like they had in his dreams. Dean's skin prickled, and he could feel his hair standing on end, even as he shoved his hands into his pockets and tried to shove the feeling away. "Cas?"

A door opened behind him, and Dean spun around, instinctively reaching for his gun even though he'd pulled it out of his pocket before he'd fallen asleep. As far as he knew, it was still under his pillow, where he wouldn't be able to reach it if he needed it.

He didn't actually need it, though. It wasn't a demon or a hellhound, or any other type of monster. Instead, Cas stepped out of the bathroom, carrying his hospital scrubs, which he tossed into the trashcan. He must've been changing his clothes, because he was wearing Dean's jeans and one of his gray shirts, and was once again in the leather jacket. His face slipped into a frown as he looked at Dean. "Are you alright?"

"What? Yeah," Dean said quickly, hunching his shoulders and rubbing the back of his neck again, to try and hide how stupid he felt over getting paranoid and freaking out for no reason, just because Cas had been out of sight for all of two seconds. How idiotic was that, right? "You know that we still got your trench coat, right? It's still in the trunk of the Impala, if you want it."

"Thank you," Cas said, and glanced down at the leather jacket. "Would you like this back?" he asked, already beginning to pull it off. "I didn't mean to take it from you."

Dean shook his head. "No, it's cool," he said. "You can keep it on. I was just letting you know."

"Thank you," Cas repeated, then stepped forward and placing his hand on the back of Dean's neck, his fingers covering Dean's. "I would have tried to move you to a more-comfortable position, but I didn't want to risk waking you up."

Dean cleared his throat, and dropped his hand, though Cas kept his in place, his fingers rubbing small circles on the back of Dean's neck. "It's fine," Dean said with a shrug, then finally glanced toward the clock. "What time is it, anyway?"

It was basically a rhetorical question – no point in telling him the time, considering that Dean was already staring at the clock. Of course, Cas answered, anyway. "It's around seven in the evening, more or less."

Dean nodded. They'd gotten more sleep than he'd thought, then.

Cas removed his fingers from Dean's neck and stepped away, though it was only to cross over to the counter, where the pizza box was still sitting out. "Would you like one?" Cas asked, picking up a piece and holding it out to Dean.

Dean's stomach was growling, but he made a face and shook his head. The pizza hadn't exactly been good the first time, and he couldn't imagine it'd be any less disgusting after having been left out for hours. Cas shrugged and took a bite, though he grimaced afterward, which made Dean think that he'd been right about how edible it actually was, but Cas was either still starving or he didn't want to put it to waste or something like that, because he took another bite.

"You know, you don't actually have to keep eating it," Dean said, crossing over to the table on the other side of the room and sitting on the edge of it, facing Cas. "Seriously, man, we can dump that crap and go get something actually enjoyable."

"Oh, is it distasteful to you, too?" Cas asked, looking down at the slice in his hand with this surprised look on his face.

"Trust me, not even a dog would eat that crap," Dean said.

Cas frowned. "I don't think that-"

"It's an exaggeration, Cas," Dean said, cutting him off before he could get too confused.

"Oh," Cas said, then smiled, and Dean found himself grinning that. "I realized that, of course," Cas said after a moment.

Dean snorted. "'Course you did," he said, and shook his head. "'Cause you're not clueless at all. Can't think of one time when you didn't understand something basic like that."

Cas made a face at him, clearly not appreciating the label, and Dean's grin widened. Okay, so maybe one of the things he'd been missing was winding Cas up like this, mostly because he just looked so damn confused when Dean messed with him, and it was hilarious. Especially with the way that it was clear that Cas was still trying his best not to smile, like he was trying to pretend to be upset and it was taking all his concentration. Frickin' adorable, honestly.

Then Cas glanced at his slice of pizza again, and said, "I hadn't noticed that it wasn't good."

And just like that, Dean got the sense that the fun time was over. "What do you mean?"

Cas considered his answer. "Food tastes different now," he said after a moment. "Of course, I wouldn't know for sure what food would taste like to an angel, as I had never had occasion to eat before I had become a human, but it isn't the same anymore. It tastes like... molecules, I suppose. Like I can taste the individual ingredients instead of the final product."

"Oh," Dean said, shifting in his seat slightly. "That's... interesting," he finally said.

"Clearly my vessel requires nourishment, though. They usually don't, so this is strange. I just wish it was more enjoyable." Cas frowned at his pizza again, narrowing his eyes at it like it had done him this great, personal wrong and he was plotting revenge, then set the slice onto the counter and pushed it away.

"You could always try some other types of food," Dean suggested. "You know, see if there's something you still like, even if it is all molecules."

Cas nodded. "Yes," he said, "I will have to do that." Then he turned toward Dean, taking a step toward him. Dean took the chance to look him up and down, and he had to say, Cas was looking good. Not just because he looked hot – though Dean had to say, he always had liked the way that Cas looked in his clothes . But he wasn't as pale and shaky as he had been that afternoon, and definitely looked a lot steadier on his feet. He still didn't look a hundred percent back to normal, and you could see it in the way that he moved that he was still hurting. But still, he was healing up way faster than Dean would've thought possible. Maybe it was an angel thing.

"You don't like to talk about this," Cas said. "The fact that I'm an angel."

Again, Dean found himself shifting, though he noticed what he was doing in time to make himself stop. He was pretty sure that Cas still noticed, though. "What makes you think that?"

"Dean," Cas said simply, then waited.

Dean waited, too, hoping that if they just sat there long enough, Cas would give in and just drop the subject. Except that Dean had been forgetting that Cas was apparently the king of patience, and he had the weird ability to stand completely still, not even twitching for insanely long periods of time. And if he did it enough, it became super creepy, no matter how much Dean liked to stare at him.

Dean let out a long rush of breath. "Okay, fine," he said. "It's weird, alright? Excuse me if it's taking me a little time to adjust."

Cas' forehead crumpled, and he opened his mouth.

"Oh, no," Dean said, and held up one hand, practically shoving his palm over Cas mouth. "We're not going to overanalyze this, okay? I'm working this out. We're not gonna talk about it." They had enough to worry about already; the last thing he needed was to go around waving his issues everywhere, or to make Cas feel like shit because Dean still didn't know how to deal.

Cas definitely looked unhappy about it, but he did nod. "Alright," he said, after reaching up to remove Dean's hand from his mouth. "But I am going to ask you about how you are, and about what happened after I had been taken away."

Dean tensed. Of course Cas was going to be asking these things. He should've seen it coming, honestly. "I'm good."

Cas studied him for a moment. "No, you're not," he finally said. "And I want to hear the full story." Dean started to shake his head again, but then Cas reached forward and closed his hand around Dean's wrist, giving it a small squeeze. "Please, Dean," he said, and after that, well, Dean couldn't really argue after that.

The first part was easy. Sam hauling him into the bathroom, jumping out the window together, the mad race for the car and the decision to go to Bobby's place- Easy. He could ramble off the details with no thought at all, though it did make him feel a little shitty to see the fear and worry cover Cas' face when he described how he'd gotten his leg bitten. Not that Dean had wanted to get turned into a hellhound chew toy, but still, it kinda made him feel like he should've done a better job of not getting caught, just so that he wouldn't have had to tell Cas this part of the story.

Still, though, that all passed fast. It was after that that things got hairy.

"Sam did the spell, and it didn't work," Dean said, then cut off his story to ask, "Any idea why that was?"

"There could be a few different reasons," Cas said after a second's thought. "It's possible that the spell was designed to use on humans, and it couldn't detect me because of my grace. Or, time moves differently in Heaven than on Earth. It's possible that I was in Heaven at the time that Sam was performing the spell, which would explain why you couldn't detect my location."

Okay, that made sense, and honestly, Dean didn't really care enough to wanna know which explanation it was – though he probably should try to find it out, just in case he and Cas ever got separated again, and he wanted to try that spell to find him again. But that'd be something that they could deal with later. No point in worrying about it right this second.

So he was about to continue with how Sam had found the article about him being found, but he was stopped by the look on Cas' face. His mouth was open, this look of horror growing on his face, which instantly made Dean tense, wondering what the fuck could be going wrong now. He waited a moment, expecting Cas to say something, but Cas kept silent, and he had a distant look in his eyes, like he was off in his mind and not even looking at Dean at all, and Dean didn't have the patients to wait for him to come back into reality. "Cas," he said, then snapped his fingers in front of Cas' face. "You still with us? Got something you wanna share, buddy?"

Cas blinked, and then his eyes refocused on Dean's face with startling intensity, like he was trying to stare right into Dean's soul or something – which, honestly, was probably pretty fucking accurate.

"I know that I don't always think of these things until you point them out to me," Cas said slowly, "but I'm realizing that there are a striking number of similarities between what happened when I was taken by Naomi, and the time that we were hunting the shapeshifters and I had been kidnapped by Felicity."

Dean swallowed. He hadn't made that connection – hadn't even thought about Felicity since right after he'd ganked her, other than to curse that bitch every once in a while. But now that Cas put it like that, yeah, he could see the resemblance.

He was expecting Cas' next words a second before he said them.

"Dean," Cas said, his voice grave. Dean glanced away, but Cas lifted his hand to the side of Dean's face, turning it back to look at him. "Did you believe that I was dead?"

Dean didn't respond, mostly because he knew that he didn't actually need to. Cas might've been phrasing it as a question, but they both knew that it wasn't one, that Cas already had figured out the answer.

"I'm sorry," Cas said after a moment. He dropped his hand from Dean's face so that he could run his hand through his hair instead, pushing it up and making it look even messier than it already was, until it was practically standing on end.

Dean cleared his throat. "Wasn't exactly your fault," he grunted.

Cas nodded once, acknowledging that, then said, "But still, I had promised you that I would not allow you to think that I was dead again. Apparently I was unable to keep it."

Dean frowned. Now that Cas mentioned it, Dean did remember something those lines – Dean being all freaked out and practically shouting at Cas to not do this again, and Cas looking confused but immediately agreeing anyway. "Yeah, well," Dean said, and shrugged. "Never really expected you to keep it."

Cas didn't exactly look reassured. "I had promised that I wouldn't' make you believe I was dead without reason," Cas said slowly. "The fact that you expected that promise to be broken is almost more concerning than the fact that it took me less than a month to break it."

Dean snorted again, without the humor this time. "Yeah, well, that's life," he said, then amended, "Our lives, at least."

Cas made some sort of noise of agreement, still not looking happy, and took a half step closer, until his legs were pressed against Dean's knees. "Still, though, I'm sorry," he said again. "For scaring you. And for the fact that I'm not going to make the promise again, because by now I think we've learned that there is no way to be sure that I'll keep it."

"Just do your best," Dean said.

Cas nodded. "That, I can promise," he said. "Whether my best will be good enough-" Didn't continue, and didn't need to. Instead, he leaned closer, and Dean moved forward, doing the same, his eyes already closing. Then Cas stopped, their faces still about an inch apart. "You want to do this, don't you?" he asked, his voice barely audible, but Dean just barely made it out. "It is alright if I do this?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Dean asked, though he had to admit, he was still trying to work out exactly what the answer was.

"Your discomfort with me being an angel," Cas said, drawing back slightly. "I wasn't sure exactly which areas that extends into."

Dean grimaced. Yeah, he wasn't too sure about that, either, but he'd be damned if he was going to let that get in the way of anything, so he just reached forward and hooked his fingers under the collar of Cas' shirt, and pulled him forward the last few inches.

The kiss was awesome, just like kissing Cas always was. But in a different way this time. Part of it was because Dean had been dying to do this, grab Cas and reassure himself that the guy was okay. He liked having Cas right there under his hands, so that Dean could close his eyes and still not have to worry about Cas disappearing again, because he had his hands flat against Cas' back, and he could feel the muscles shifting, and could remind himself that Cas was right here.

But the other thing that was different was the way that it made him think, like his mind had suddenly been cleared and everything was making more sense than it had a second ago. Which was the exact opposite of what kissing Cas usually did – most of the times, he ended up reaching the point where he barely even cared about remembering his own name, which was exactly how he liked it. But the way that Cas was moving was exactly the same as what Dean remembered, and suddenly, the fact that he was an angel didn't seem to make as much of a difference, and Dean could feel all of the tension draining away, 'til it was just him and Cas. Different, but the same as they'd always been.

And having this kind of epiphany in the middle of a frickin' kiss was cheesy as hell, but oh fucking well, it wasn't like he had planned it this way. He'd take what he could get.

Cas was the one to break the kiss, and by this point, they were both out of breath. Cas stared at Dean like he was preparing to say something, or like he was searching for something, or maybe like he just felt like staring – with Cas, who knew? But Dean was staring right back, and he got the feeling that this was supposed to be super awkward, but it wasn't.

Even so, long silences weren't exactly his thing, so after a moment, the corner of his mouth pulled up into a grin, and he said, "So, you said that you can taste the individual molecules and shit, right?"

"I have no desire to taste shit," Cas said at once, "but yes."

He said it completely blank faced, and for a second, Dean just stared at him. "Dude," he finally said, his grin slowly widening. "Did you just seriously make a joke?" he asked. "On purpose?"

Cas nodded. "I do that sometimes, you know," he said, and Dean couldn't help it – he laughed, which only served to make Cas look like he was torn between being annoyed and super proud with himself, and the face he ended up making just made Dean want to laugh more. "You had been asking me a question," he reminded Dean. "About the way that I perceive taste."

"Right," Dean said, and kept grinning. "So, if you keep tasting all the individual parts or whatever," he paused, and raised his eyebrows, "how does my mouth taste, then?"

And Cas had clearly been spending too much time with Sam, at least based on the bitch face that he gave Dean. "I should have known that that would be the direction that your mind would take."

Dean just shrugged, raising his eyebrows even more, and spreading his hands. "It's a good question," he said. "I mean, I was just wondering. And what about other places? How do you think I'd taste when-"

"We still have other important things to talk about," Cas said quickly, giving Dean another one of the bitch looks for good measure. It was a watered-down version of what Sammy could dish out, though, so Dean didn't pay all that much attention to it.

"Seriously, do we have to do this now?" Dean asked. "We were actually having a moment there. A moment that didn't completely suck. Can't we just treasure this for a bit?"

Cas smiled, but he said, "I know you, Dean. If I don't ask you now, then I know that you're going to use it as an excuse to never say anything."

Couldn't fault that logic, even if it was kind of the exact reason why Dean wanted to put off the subject for a while more. Still, though, Cas looked like he wasn't going to be distracted – though Dean was tempted to just grab and kiss him again, just to see if it would work – so he said, "Okay, fine. What's question number one?"

"Are you doing okay?" Cas asked. And Dean started to scoff and throw out a flippant answer, but Cas cut him off. "I know that if I make the question so vague, you will use it as an excuse to lie, so allow me to be more specific. I know that hellhounds have a negative effect on the human psyche, particularly when they are hunting for a human whose soul belongs to their master. Have you been suffering any affects since you've been on the run?"

Well, damn. Dean was pretty sure that you were supposed to like it when your partner knew you so well, like it was supposed to be a good thing, but right then, he couldn't really see the appeal. Not if Cas was going to use it to psychoanalyze him like that, and force him into answering these kinds of questions.

Still, though, he was pretty sure that lying would be a dick move on his part. He might've still tried it, except that there was no way that he'd get away with it, not when Cas would just go to double check with Sam the moment that Dean's back was turned. So Dean sighed, but nodded. "Yeah," he said stiffly. "Dreams, mostly. Or, well, nightmares, actually."

"Which would explain why you looked as though you had not slept in days," Cas said, almost musingly, though his voice was still dripping concern.

"Uh, yeah," Dean agreed awkwardly. "That was because I hadn't."

Cas nodded, looking like he was mentally sticking that bit of info away in some filing cabinet, or whatever he had in that head of his. "What else?" he asked. "You said mostly," he added, before Dean got the chance to even think about denying it. "That implies that something else is happening to you. What else?"

"Hallucinations," Dean said shortly. "Keep seeing things that aren't there, or watch people's faces twist off." And god, he swore that saying this out loud to Cas was worse than it had been when he'd been admitting it to Bobby and Sam. He hadn't known that that was even possible.

"Hallucinations," Cas repeated, and thought for a moment before he spoke. "When we were confronted by Hester earlier, there was a time when you began to panic worse than you had been before, seemingly for no reason. Was that at all related to the hallucinations?"

Oh, Christ, did Cas really have to bring that up? It'd been embarrassing enough to live through it, without Cas trying to make him go over it again. "Yeah," he sad shortly, making a face over having to admit that he'd gotten himself all worked up over something that wasn't real. Real smart of him, right there.

Cas nodded slowly, obviously considering this. "And now?" he asked. "Are you seeing anything now?"

Dean glanced around the motel room, just to make sure, but he already knew the answer. "No, not right now," he said. The shapes had been crawling around when he'd first woken up, but they'd slowly been vanishing from his peripheral vision the longer that he'd been talking to Cas, and by now, he couldn't see any signs that they had ever existed.

Cas nodded again. There was definitely something going on in his head, something that he knew and Dean didn't.

"What?" Dean demanded. "You know something about this? What's causing them?"

"The hellhounds cause them," Cas said at once.

"Yeah, no shit," Dean said, and rolled his eyes. "Any other, not-so-obvious observations you want to make."

Cas frowned, and continued, "Hellhounds are creatures of fear – all demons are, at the heart of it, but hellhounds particularly. They prey on people's paranoia to make them see the things that they fear most, or a representation of what they fear most. What do you see, Dean?"

Dean shifted, definitely uncomfortable now, but he answered, anyway. "You and Sam getting tortured, mostly, or turning into monsters," he said with a grimace. "Or, dark shapes, I guess. Stuff in the corner of my eyes."

"Fear of your loved ones being injured, or the fear of the people that you care about turning against you," Cas said immediately. "And a fear of the unknown."

"No, no, no," Dean said quickly. "No way. I wouldn't have told you any of that crap if I'd known that you were going to use it against me like that."

Cas shook his head. "I would hardly call this 'using it against you', as you said. Not when I'm doing this mainly for your benefit," he said, then added, "Besides, you're acting as if this was anything new. I already knew what you would be most afraid of."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Yeah?"

"Yes," Cas said, and then, since it was Cas, of course he had to keep talking and make Dean sorry that he had even asked. "You value the people around you above anything else, so of course losing them one way or another would also be your greatest fear. And you are the most self-sufficient man I've ever known, and I realize that my experiences are limited, so that may not be saying much, but it is still true. I imagine that you would be able to take on anything or any kind of monster, so long as you knew how to kill it. Which is why you would fear the things that you cannot define." Cas shook his head, not like he was dismissing Dean's fears or anything like that, almost more like he couldn't believe that he had to explain all of this to Dean. "It was obvious just from observing you. I'm sure that you could say the same for me, if you wished."

Well, yeah, Dean knew what Cas was afraid of. Definitely some fear of things he didn't know in there – pretty obvious, considering how long he hadn't even known who he was. But there were some other, more important fears, too. Like a fear of letting people down – or maybe it'd be better to say that he looked like he was scared of not being useful, like other people wouldn't have a reason to keep him around. Dean had figured that one out way back when they'd first met, what with the way that Cas had looked whenever the idea of sending him to the Roadhouse had been mentioned. God, it had made Dean feel like an asshole to even mention it, even though he'd only just met Cas, and even if he hadn't wanted to invite some random guy to hang around during the last couple months that Dean had to spend with Sammy before his one-way trip to Hell.

So okay, maybe it wasn't too surprising that Cas knew this kind of stuff about Dean, too. Didn't mean that Dean wanted to talk about it, though. "We can stow the mushy-gushy crap, though," he said. "We don't need to get into some therapy session about our biggest fears and emotional wounds. What I'm more interested in is, you said that the hounds prey on paranoia, right?" Cas nodded, and Dean scowled. "So what, that means that I'm just making this up in my head?"

Cas tilted his head slightly. "In a way, I suppose so," he said. "I'd imagine that the hellhounds affect on you would be strongest when you are the most terrified, and it could also explain why you haven't seen hallucinations during times when you're happy and relaxed. Like now, for example."

"So, basically I'm making this up in my head," Dean concluded, and made a face. "Okay, seriously? That fucking blows." Bad enough that he had to deal with the hallucinations hitting him at the worst times. Now, he was apparently the one causing them with his own freaking out, meaning that he couldn't even blame it on the demons. Any panic attacks he got his with, they were all his own fault.

Yeah, that was just frickin' perfect.

Not to mention that it meant that everyone was going to be able to tell exactly when he was acting like a scaredy-cat. Whenever they saw him having the hallucinations, they'd know exactly what was happening, and why. So this just kept getting better and better.

"Dean," Cas said, the concern in his voice suddenly getting way stronger, and definitely grating against Dean's nerves. "What is worrying you?"

That was when Dean's phone rang. So, awesome timing there. Or, Cas would say that it was bad timing, but whatever, Dean was feeling pretty relieved.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, ignoring the way that Cas was frowning, and checked the caller ID. He'd been expecting Sam, or Dad, or even Bobby or Ash. Instead, it was a random number, one that he didn't recognize at first.

"Who is it?" Cas asked, his frown lessening as curiosity won out against it.

Dean was just about to say that he didn't have a clue, but then, it all snapped in place. The number looked familiar, and now, he suddenly knew why that was. He'd seen that number before, just a few hours ago.

"Dean?" Cas prompted.

Slowly, Dean lifted his head to look at Cas. "Dude," he said quietly, "Jimmy's wife is calling."