Sam waited until everyone was settled in for the night before looking for Cas. He found the angel in his room, book in hand. He knocked on the door. "Hey."

Cas looked up before nodding his head in greeting. It was clear Cas was not surprised to see Sam. Neither Dean had much to say about the case, and Sam was incredulous after seeing the array of injuries shared between them.

Sam rolled the chair out from the barren desk, swinging it around to sit. "So do you have anything more to say than 'Had back up. 12 wolves. We're fine.'?"

Cas sighed, marking his page in the book and setting it aside. "Dean asked I not disclose too many details."

"Dean is asleep." Sam said. "I checked."

Cas leaned back. "Both young Dean and I were disarmed during the struggle. I believe he got scratched by a wolf. Another wolf got a hold of my blade."

"And his hands?"

"I threw him out of the way and he didn't have time to brace himself."

Sam sighed. "How'd that go over?"

Cas tilted his head.

Sam flattened his expression. "There's no way you guys all had a close call like that and they didn't fight."

Cas let his shoulders down. "They agreed not to never again bring it up." He admitted. "Or tell you."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Of course they did."

"I am not sure if they actually put it behind them but they were amicable on the ride home."

"Well that's something at least."

"Jody was the one to speak to the younger Dean after." Cas admitted. "I followed Dean." He hesitated. "Dean was fairly shaken."

"He's scared."

Cas blinked a few times, furrowing his brow. "Of?" He stopped, thinking about the last few days. "Is this still about Ramiel?"

"That really shook him up."

Cas felt a slight sense of deja vu. "I am fine."

"You almost weren't… We've lost you a few times, man. He takes it harder each time."

Cas looked down, feeling a sense of guilt.

"He's blaming himself."

"He didn't do anything."

"That's the problem."

"I don't-"

Sam sighed. "Crowley saved your life. Dean would be less shaken up if it had been him." He gave a weak laugh. "Well, maybe."

Cas was quiet for a moment. "I did not realize."

"He'll calm down eventually. You're handling it with grace, I'll give you that."

"Handling what?"

"Dude… Dean's barley let you out of his sight in weeks."

"Oh." Cas said, as if realizing it for the first time. "I did not make the connection."

"He's coming around." Of course, recent events might be a bit of a setback.

Cas contemplated that for a moment. "Dean cares very deeply." About everything. "He tries to conceal it."

"Yeah. Always has."

Cas dipped his head in agreement. "I have been presented with a unique opportunity to see that first hand."

Sam shook his head "Dean's always been my big brother. It's jarring to see him so young…."

"So are you… the other you."

"Yeah, but I was a kid." Sam said. "Dad was gone almost all the time, Dean practically raised me." He absently ran his hand along the desk's edge. "He didn't seem like this… he wasn't ever a kid, you know?"

"I am starting to understand that."

Sam's smile was tinged with sadness. "I can see it with him… the younger him. He's carrying everything on his shoulders."

Cas was quiet for a moment. "Your father did not protect you as he should have."

Sam blinked, surprised at the somewhat blatant statement. He looked up and noted Cas' far off gaze. "He kept us safe."

"From monsters." Cas said, looking back at Sam. "But did he even always do that?"

"Well…"

"I saw into Dean's mind when they arrived at the motel. Your father used him as bait the case just prior to your stay there."

Sam winced. "Dean didn't tell me that. He downplayed a lot of the cases…"

There is a lot he did not tell you. Cas kept that to himself. "It is not just monsters that he should have shielded you from."

Sam was surprised at the slightest edge of judgment in Cas' tone. "He did his best."

"It wasn't good enough."

Sam looked down. "No." He said at last. "It wasn't."

.

Across the bunker, young Dean was sitting on his bed.

Young Sam had fallen asleep hours ago, but Dean hadn't even tried. He'd spent every second since then watching his brother and letting his thoughts get dangerously close to drowning him.

He needed to talk to Cas.

Just Cas.

Dean clenched his fists, looking up at the clock on the mantle. Two. Good enough.

He stood, grabbing his jacket before heading out of his room, following the faint sound of conversation.

He stopped to eavesdrop. Cas' voice… Sam's… but notably not his own. "It is not just monsters that he should have shielded you from." Dean blinked, listening to Cas.

"He did his best."

"It wasn't good enough."

"No." He heard Sam say. He closed his eyes. "It wasn't."

Young Dean pushed himself to move, pausing in front of the open door to Cas' room and making pointed eye contact with Cas. He turned and walked toward the library.

Sam looked over at the angel, frowning.

"I should follow him."

"You got it?"

"Yes."

Sam sighed. "Well, I'm going to catch some sleep. Good luck."

Cas headed after Young Dean. As soon as he rounded the corner into the library, Dean turned towards the map room, continuing through it and up the stairs. Cas followed him out of the bunker into the cold night air, shutting the door behind them.

Dean got on level ground before he turned back to Cas. Nowhere anyone could overhear. Safe enough.

"Dean…"

"What would have happened to Sam?"

"What do-"

"If I die here in the future, what would happen to Sam? To my Sam?"

"You didn't die."

"What happens?"

"I don't know." Cas said.

"Bullshit."

"I don't." Cas insisted. "If you die here this timeline ceases to exist. He would be caught here with no path back to his own time."

"What does that mean?"

"That perhaps he is lost to a paradox."

"So he dies."

Cas didn't say anything.

"Or worse." Young Dean's heart was racing, but he forced himself to remain still, pent up energy pulsing beneath the surface. "And who knows what else would happen."

"You didn't die." Cas said again.

"I put everyone at risk. Sam, you, Claire… I damn near screwed it all up."

"Dean." Cas said calmly, but the command was clear. "It was not your fault."

Young Dean fell silent for a moment, trying to come up with a good response.

"Neither you now nor twenty two-years from now deserve the blame, and I wish you both would accept that."

"I'm not great at that."

"I can see that."

Dean pulled a face, but he didn't argue it. After a moment he sighed. "I didn't say thank you... For pushing me out of the way."

"Of course, Dean." Cas said, tone softening.

Dean looked him over. "How are you?"

"It is better. Angels heal quicker than humans. Even from this." Cas held up his hands, free of their bandages. "Already good." He touched his shoulder. "This too has made progress."

"Nifty." Dean fought a chill as a bitter wind kicked up for a moment. It was colder than he had given it credit for and he was somewhat starting to regret choosing outside.

Cas leaned back against the car. "Your older self said you would refuse my healing."

"Fuck him." Young Dean said. "I'll take it."

Cas smiled, crossing his arms. "So there was a time you were less stubborn."

"Shuddup." Young Dean rolled his eyes.

"I should be able to heal your injuries within the next couple days."

"Cool."

"But for now, perhaps we should go back inside to warm up. You should attempt sleep." He said, straightening up. "I do not believe you when you say you only need four hours."

"I would never lie to you." Dean smiled.

Cas started to walk back towards the bunker door. "You did just now."

"Whatever." Dean said, hugging his jacket a little tighter and hurrying his step to follow Cas inside.

.

Dean eyed the offered handful of pills. "Nah, man." He said, shaking his head. "Not into that."

The man shrugged, shoving them back into the bag he poured them out of. "All good." He gave a grin. "One motel in town, you got a room?"

"Nope." Dean lied.

"Well we'll just have to grab one."

When they pulled into the motel, Dean was glad to stay behind in the car. He kept a wary eye out for Sam, but he had left his brother with a pile of books and instructions to stay inside. He was feeling pretty confident his brother would listen.

He straightened up to look down over the hood of the Trans Am he was sitting in, appreciating the screaming chicken emblazoned across the hood. 1977 was a good year for the Firebird.

Dean slipped out of the car when he saw the guy leave the office, taking one last glance around to make sure no one saw him follow. Inside the room he tossed his coat over the back of one of the chairs.

Bill, his name was. He could already tell Bill was a talker. "Drink?"

"Sure."

Bill walked over to the small table, picking up two motel glasses and inspecting them for cleanliness before bringing them back to the nightstand. He pulled a bottle from the bag he had set on the bed. "Hope scotch is alright."

"I'm not picky." Dean beamed a smile as he was handed the glass.

"So, Dean. What is it that brought you to town?" He settled into one of the chairs, encouraging Dean to sit opposite him.

"Just passing through."

"On your way somewhere warmer? North Dakota not exactly a tourist destination this time of year." Bill laughed slightly. "Well, not exactly a tourist destination any time of year, but January ain't visitor season."

It is when there's a rugaru, Dean thought bitterly. "Somewhere warmer would be nice." He said instead. "Florida is calling my name."

"Ugh." Bill said, leaning back. "Can't do the humidity."

"Beats snow."

"Yeah, maybe." Bill looked Dean up and down. "You in town long?"

"Leaving tomorrow." Dean lied again.

"Good thing I caught you."

Dean flashed another grin. "Your lucky night."

Later, when Dean returned from the cramped motel bathroom, he had another drink waiting for him. Bill had lost his shirt at some point. Dean took his seat again, taking a long drink and waiting for conversation to pick up.

Some guys wanted him fast. Done and out. If it were a truck stop, they were on a break in the drive, hardly any time at all. Others liked to take it slow. It was honestly all the same to him as long as they weren't a creep. This was going well so far.

"Not too good at accents." Bill continued, turning his glass in his hands and knocking it back before reaching to top it off. "Where you from?"

"All over." Dean answered truthfully. "Ain't been in one place too long since I was little."

"Army brat?" Bill guessed.

"You guessed it." It didn't feel enough like a lie. Except if he were, there'd at least be some reason to where they were, and he might even finish a grade all in one school.

"Got sent home from 'Nam after I got my leg tore up. Never quite been the same since."

"Well, I'll try to go easy on you."

Bill barked a laugh. "You better."

Dean relaxed fully, feeling a warm glow settle in across his temples. Honestly, he felt like he needed this. Sure, this guy was definitely older than his dad, but he was pretty good at not thinking about that.

He was kind of feeling great.

Maybe it was just good scotch. Maybe he was just in a good mood. Either way.

"Your old man overseas or something? How come you're out here on your own?"

"Why do you think I'm on my own?"

"Well, you're here."

Touche. "Charting my own path."

"You're an enterprising businessman, huh?"

"Sure. I like that."

"I'll bet you do."

Dean felt his face flush a bit more. He avoided responding by finishing his drink.

"Top up?" Bill asked, grabbing the bottle again.

"No." Dean said, pushing his glass away from him. He could feel a bit of headrush, and he figured he should slow down.

"Oh come on, live a little." Bill poured one anyway, shoving it back across the table.

Dean picked it up, but he didn't make a move to drink it.

"I don't do this often." He sighed. "I get the feeling you do."

Dean said nothing.

"Guessing that means you know all the steps."

"I do alright." Dean felt the flush settle in a little more. He set his glass down. The scotch was a little stronger than he bargained on, he knew he needed to stop. He zoned out slightly, half listening to Bill launch into a story about when he moved to North Dakota.

"You listening to me?"

"Yeah." Dean replied weakly, but he hoped Bill didn't call him on it. Those two glasses had done him in good… He blinked a few times, trying to clear his head. "It's pretty warm in here." It took a second to realize he had said that out loud.

"Lose the shirt. You'll feel better."

Dean nodded, head tipping back slightly under its own weight. He focused up, meeting Bill's eyes and giving another half smile as he reached down under the hem of his shirt, lifting it up and clear over his shoulders. He tossed it over his jacked behind him, reveling in the small shudder as the breeze danced across his skin. The cool air felt amazing for just a moment before the heat was back, now somehow mixed with an unsettling cold.

Bill hummed a note of approval, looking over Dean's bare chest.

Dean raised a hand in a half salute, not sure why that was his impulse. Bill was saying something again, but he was distracted by another wave of vertigo.

Two glasses of scotch… Was that all it took? Dean wouldn't consider himself a lightweight. He didn't drink that often, but he could usually hold his own.

His ears were burning hot, and the flush across his face settled down his back and over his chest before retreating into his gut, the feeling somewhat like static. It felt like he was floating, and not in a good way. "Excuse me." He said, pushing through the slight slur in his speech.

"Ooh, a gentleman."

Dean tried to stand, hoping if he splashed some cold water on his face it might bring him around. He staggered, trying and failing to catch himself on the table.

Bill was next to him in an instant, pulling him up off his knees and guiding him back to sit on the bed. "Take it easy. Just relax." He said soothingly.

Dean looked back at the table, the uncomfortable feeling across his body dropping into an ice cold realization. The scotch… the pills outside the bar… "Did you-?" He wasn't sure if the words made it out, but they didn't have to.

He had watched Bill pour his first drink, but he didn't watch the second. Even through the thick fog he could recognize the feelings.

"You roofied me!?" He knew those words were slurred beyond understanding. He tried to push off the hands that were holding him steady.

"Just let it happen."

Dean began to try to shove him off in earnest, managing only to overbalance and crash to the ground. He was gripped from behind, pulled back upright and off the carpet. He thrashed, kicking out behind him and managing to knock them both back to the floor.

He struggled to pull himself out from under Bill, the sight of the door swimming and shifting in front of him and he lunged at it, failing to get even halfway to his feet. He dragged himself forward desperately, but the world was tilting around him, and it was a struggle just to hold on and not be thrown with it.

He had to get out. He had to escape.

"Dean… it's alright."

"No."

"I'll take care of you."

.

Dean shot awake, whipping up into a sitting position, breath coming in desperate short gasps. He had the blankets off him in an instant and he scrambled at the lamp, relieved when it turned on and revealed his bunker room.

He was home. He was safe.

Dean collapsed back onto the bed, far more drained than he had been when he told Cas he was attempting sleep.

He didn't dream of it often anymore. Too many other traumas had taken its place. As shitty as that chapter of his life was, it didn't really compare. Some days he ripped into a fresh victim in Hell. Some days he looked Jo in the eyes while he left her to the hounds. Some days he watched Cas throw off his hand before he was ripped out of Purgatory.

Seeing his younger self certainly was opening old wounds that had never quite scabbed over right.

Great.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He felt a wave of dread trying to remember when that was. He couldn't remember if that Dean had just lived through it or if it was one of the next things he had in store.

Dean pushed himself up off the bed, crossing the room, carefully unhurried. He ran the tap cold, taking a moment to splash his face with water and wipe it dry. He took a moment to stare into the mirror, not sure what the expression looking back exposed.

He tried and failed to shake it off, taking another deep breath and giving himself permission to grip the edges of the sink for grounding.

He carefully retreated inside himself, letting his body go through the motions, following along with the morning routine. Brush teeth. Shower. Clothes. Coffee.

It was just past seven in the morning when Sam crossed Dean's path in the kitchen on the way to his morning run.

"What are you doing up?"

Dean took a long sip of his coffee, finally snapping back into his body. "I'm thinking we gotta get out of here."

Sam blinked. "What?"

Dean frowned, leaning back against the table. "The case didn't go smooth."

"Yeah, no shit." Sam rolled his eyes.

Dean pulled a face. "Anyway, it's not going to hurt if we spend one day away from research, is it?"

"No…" Sam said.

"They're both dealing with so much crap right now. I think a day off could do some good."

Dean's suggestion was surprising. "Where did you have in mind?"

"Remember that stream?"

"You're going to have to be more specific."

"I said it'd be a good spot for fishing."

"Maybe?" Sam shook his head. "Vaguely."

"Whatever, not important. Point is, we have the stuff and I want to see if I was right."

Sam blinked. "I mean, I guess."

"What, you don't think it's a good idea?"

"I didn't say that. It's just… unexpected."

Dean shrugged, feeling his ears grow slightly warm. "Hey, I'm just looking for an excuse to fuck off from research and fish."

Sam frowned, studying Dean for a moment. His expression wasn't giving anything away, and his white knuckle grip on his mug was the only sign of tension in his body. Something had prompted this, but he didn't think asking was likely to yield any results. "Yeah, okay."

"Good." Dean said, knocking back the last of his mug before pouring another right away.

.

"Fishing?"

Sam looked at his younger self and shrugged. "Why not?"

Young Dean stood still, arms crossed, watching Sam load rods into the trunk of the impala on top of the false floor. "Aren't we trying to find a way back home?"

"We can do that tomorrow." Sam said, trying for a casual shrug.

"So we're going fishing?"

Sam shrugged. "You're welcome to stay here if you want."

Young Sam jumped up. "No! We're coming." He looked pointedly at his brother. "Right?"

Young Dean rolled his eyes. "Fine, yeah. We'll go fishing."

"Make sure you two grab your coats. It's pretty cold out there."

"Thanks mom."

Sam barely contained a wince. He smiled as Cas wandered into the garage, carrying a large cooler stacked under a precariously placed cardboard box of food.

"Dean sent me with this."

Sam hurried over, sliding the box off the top and throwing it into the back of the trunk as well, making room for Cas to set the cooler down. "You excited to go fishing?"

"I expressed to Dean my offer to stay here and research while you were gone." Cas said, a slight exasperated regret coloring his voice.

"And?"

"I was informed that wasn't an option."

Young Dean's face softened into a small smile. "What, not a fan of fishing?"

Cas shifted uncomfortably. "I enjoy fishing."

"Jeez, you suck at lying."

"I-"

"It'll be a great time." Sam said, shutting the trunk on their gear. "Go on, you two grab whatever you want."

"Come on!" Young Sam said, grabbing Dean by his less injured arm and practically dragging him out of the garage.

Young Dean tried his best to look annoyed.

Cas watched them go. "They seem excited."

Sam smiled fondly. "Dad used to take us every once in a while." Every once in a long while. "Some of our better memories."

"So you want to give them that experience."

Sam shook his head. "This was all Dean."

Cas raised his eyebrows.

"I know. When I came into the kitchen he looked pretty rattled. Insisted we head out."

"Do you know what he was rattled about?"

"No idea." Sam shrugged. "Figured asking wasn't gonna get me anywhere." He looked at Cas. "You'd probably have better luck."

"Me?"

"I'm his kid brother." Sam said.

Cas tilted his head.

"Never mind. I just mean he keeps things from me. Ask him later. Let me know if it's something I should be worried about."

"I will try."

"Thanks, Cas." Sam nodded back towards the car. "So what's in the box?"

"Seemingly every deli item and dessert in the bunker."

Sam chuckled. "Cooler is full of beer?"

"And soda."

"Good."

.

When they rolled up to the lake, young Dean caught Cas' eye over his brother's head in the back seat. He gave a subtle nod to the angel before glancing down at Sam.

Once they came to a stop, Sam and Dean got out of the front seat, but neither Cas nor young Dean grabbed their door.

Young Sam expectantly scooted towards Dean. "Come on, move!"

Young Dean stretched dramatically. "I'm going, I'm going." He said, still making no move to get out.

Young Sam whipped around, looking up at Cas also immobile, expression turning to one of comical betrayal. "Somebody move!"

"Hold your horses-" Dean said, cut off by Sam physically crawling up over his lap and grasping the handle, tumbling hands first out of the impala.

Cas smiled as he opened his door and slid out.

"Nice of you to join us." Dean said, rolling his eyes.

Young Sam got to his feet, dusting himself off and looking out at the stream. "You said there was fish here?"

Dean shrugged. "I said there might be fish there."

Young Dean circled to the back trunk. "Only one way to find out."

Dean caught young Sam's eye before tossing him the keys, watching him run back and dig out the poles.

Cas walked over, lifting the cooler out of the trunk, Dean coming up next to him to grab the box. "You have brought a considerable amount of food."

"Lunch is the best part of a day out fishing."

"I thought fishing would be the best part."

"A matter of priorities." Sam laughed, stepping in to close the trunk while the two headed over towards the shore.

Farther down the rocks, Young Sam was already set in concentration, stringing the bait they got on the way onto his hook before repeating the process for his brother.

Young Dean took the pole back carefully, making sure he didn't disturb his bandages too much. He imagined it was going to suck to reel anything in, but it'd be worth it if he caught something. He looked over his shoulder after he cast his line, watching his older self begin pulling things out of the box. "Hey, we got a kitchen now. We cooking whatever we catch?"

"Yeah, if it's something good."

Young Dean nodded, feeling a little excited at the prospect. They only got to eat whatever they caught if they were fishing near Bobby's or if it was one of the rare times they were renting a house.

"Hey, Sam, what do you want?" Dean asked, getting started on lunch right away.

Young Sam put his pole down, walking back over and taking in all the food. "Uh… ham and cheese." He said, looking at all the packages.

"You got it." Dean nodded towards himself. "And you?"

"Whatever you're eating."

"Fair. Sam, what do you want?"

"Did you bring-"

"Shit for wraps? Yes." Dean said in a dramatically put upon tone. "Just for you Sammy, I included them."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Turkey, swiss, onion, tomato."

His younger self wrinkled his nose.

Dean laughed. "See? You used to be cool. What happened?"

"Whatever."

Dean set to work assembling sandwiches while young Sam headed back over by the water, picking up his pole and finally awkwardly casting his line. He looked around them, stepping over to a couple large rocks and climbing up onto them. "Was Jody nice?" Sam didn't have much of a chance to talk to Dean yesterday before he went to bed.

"Yeah, she's cool." Dean came to sit next to him. "We worked with her kid, Claire and this other hunter, Garth."

"Dad doesn't hunt with other hunters."

"Yeah, we do apparently."

"They work together a lot?"

"I don't think so." Dean said, but he shrugged. "Not sure though."

Sam was quiet for a minute, absently looking over his fishing pole. "I went to college."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "You did?"

"Yeah. Stanford."

Dean thought for a moment. "That's in California, right?"

"I think so."

"What did you go for?"

"To be a lawyer."

"Nerd." He hesitated, looking back at Sam's older self. "Did you-"

"He said it wasn't us."

"So you hunt full time now."

"We both do."

Young Dean looked up as Sam walked over, awkwardly balancing three plates with a couple bottles pressed under his arm. Dean reached out, taking his plate from him and passed young Sam's over, allowing Sam to set his food down and hand out sodas. He looked around and found a crevice between a couple rocks, wedging his fishing pole in it to free up his hands.

Sam cracked open his beer. "So what are you thinking is in there?"

Young Dean studied the water carefully. "In winter? In Kansas?" He took a bite of his sandwich, appreciating a frankly amazing stack of meat and cheese. "I got no idea. Bass probably, they seem to be everywhere."

Sam nodded. "How confident are you there are fish in there?"

Dean watched his pole give just the slightest pull. "Pretty confident."

Young Sam ate a couple chips before biting into the apple Sam had thrown on the plate. "Do you guys do this a lot?"

"Not as much as we should." Sam admitted. "It'd be nice to do this here when it's warmer."

"It's not so bad out." young Dean said.

"It could be worse." Sam conceded. He looked up and over his shoulder briefly, catching a glimpse of Dean and Cas as they moved off up stream. "When was the last time you guys went fishing?"

Dean thought for a moment. "Not for at least a year." He admitted. "We stayed near Lake Erie."

"I think last time we fished was in Arkansas." Sam said.

Young Sam dug into his sandwich, talking with his mouth full. "We should go fishing again before we go back."

Sam smiled gently. "Sure. We'll try."

.

Dean found a spot farther up stream with a good view, a ways from everyone else. He settled down on a small hill and took a second to appreciate his sandwich as much as his younger self had. "Oh yeah, this is the life." He said, mouth full.

Cas settled down next to him. "This was a nice thing you did for them."

Dean sighed. "Yeah… well, they deserved it." He stopped shaking his head. "We all deserved it."

"I don't think I deserved this."

Dean chuckled. "You're gonna like fishing one day. Mark my words."

Cas just managed not to roll his eyes. He took a moment to try to figure out how to do what Sam asked. "What made you think of this?"

Dean sat back slightly, balancing the paper plate on his lap. "Just thought it'd be nice." He looked up, freezing when he saw Cas looking at him, head tilted. He deflated. "Bad dreams."

"Of what?"

"Just shit that happened to me. I couldn't remember if it already happened to him or if he's gonna go through that shit next."

Cas' expression fell. "Oh."

"It wasn't always bad." Dean said passively, tone reserved as he leaned his head back. "Sometimes it was just like a job… sometimes I enjoyed it."

Cas remained quiet, giving Dean space to decide what he shared.

"It wasn't all I did, either. Couple times we ended up near some farm that needed a couple extra hands for a week or two. Or someone needed some work done." He shook his head. "Could have gotten a job at some gas station or something if we were ever in one spot long enough, but we never were."

"You were old enough to work?"

"Yeah. I think Dad would have had to sign off, but he would have." Dean shrugged. "He thought I was mowing lawns or some shit to cover what we needed."

"What do you think would have happened? If your dad found out?"

Dean scuffed his boot in the dried dead grass, flattening it. "I think he'd be pissed… at himself. I think he'd be horrified that he didn't know what I was doing to keep the rent paid." He shrugged. "I think it'd last a couple months before it didn't matter anymore. I think it would have gone back to the way it was except it'd be my job to lie to him about where I got the money now."

"If Bobby found out?"

"He wouldn't have thrown my dad off the porch with a shotgun, he'd have used it."

Cas was silent.

"You think he would have been right to." Dean accused softly.

"I think he failed you in many ways." Cas said at last. "I think you deserved a different life."

"Yeah well." Dean gestured vaguely. "Hence fishing."

"I think it is appreciated."

"They have so much pain ahead of them."

"You wish they didn't have to go back?"

"Yeah." Dean admitted. "Obviously I know it can't be that way."

"Your younger self asked me what would have happened if he died."

"A paradox, right?"

Cas bowed his head in a nod. "One that would dismantle the reality they were stuck in."

"They'd be nowhere."

"I think so."

"So same thing then."

"They will come out on the other side of this. You know that."

"Yeah." Dean said weakly. "Unscathed."

Cas moved a little closer, putting his hand on Dean's shoulder. "Perhaps not, but you are not alone."

"Yeah…" Dean leaned into the touch slightly, feeling a warm comfort settle in his chest. "Thanks Cas."