tracy_loo_who | Fic: And I Will Walk On Water (4/18)

Meep, sorry this took so long, had something of a Renegade Angels fic crisis over the weekend. Which is still not quite over with yet, but I felt I could do with a break. -.-

Title: And I Will Walk On Water (4/18)
Characters: Dean and Castiel, Sam, Lucifer
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~6,800
Summary: Lucifer makes an offer, and nothing seems to go right in Dean's world for very long.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

"Hello, Dean," Lucifer said mildly as he approached Dean, and on the surface it was not too unlike the way Castiel sometimes greeted him, but Dean felt chilled through and through. Lucifer's eyes weren't black or red or white or anything like that -- they were perfectly normal, hazel eyes -- but they were intense in a way that made Dean think Lucifer's looks probably could actually kill, because his was a gaze that seemed it could reach down into a guy and make his soul wither. He moved with a lazily casual grace, and stopped a few feet in front of Dean.

Dean swallowed hard and could feel every hair on his body stand on end even as he broke out in a nervous sweat. But then Castiel got painfully to his feet to stand beside him, and Sam came over to flank his other side, and Dean felt a rush of warm gratitude toward them both. He knew they didn't even out the odds at all, but still, he was bolstered by their silent support and managed to bite out roughly, "Leave us the hell alone." Dean privately congratulated himself on not letting his voice shake.

Lucifer inclined his head slightly to one side, and Dean wondered if it was an angel thing. Not, he reminded himself hastily, that Lucifer was an angel, no matter how bright and pretty the bastard was. "You wouldn't be alive and breathing right now if I'd left you alone," he pointed out, and his voice reminded Dean of dark satin.

"What do you want?" he snapped, challenging the friggin' devil himself even though he had nothing to back the challenge with.

"Want?" Lucifer echoed, all guileless innocence as he spread out his hands, palms up. Dean didn't fall for it for a second. "All I wanted was to repay the favor. You and Sam have both done me a great service, after all," he continued, letting his eyes flicker over to Sam for the first time, and Dean could feel Sam tense beside him under the direct gaze.

His blood churned at Lucifer's reminder and he growled, "Go back to Hell."

Lucifer returned his attention to Dean and regarded him contemplatively for a moment before asking, "Why do you hate me, Dean?" And maybe it was because he was going insane, but for a moment Dean almost thought Lucifer sounded hurt.

The surrealism was almost enough to catch his tongue. "You're the goddamned devil," he said incredulously, wondering what the fuck Lucifer was playing at here.

Lucifer smiled suddenly, and fuck, but it was a charming smile. The motherfucking devil had motherfucking dimples, Dean thought stupidly, completely bewildered. "Tell me something, Dean," Lucifer said patiently. "Do you like God?"

Dean was so caught off guard he answered automatically, "No." Castiel shifted beside him but remained silent, and Sam didn't move a hair.

"Well, then," Lucifer replied, seeming quite pleased, "it seems we have something in common."

"Leave him alone," Castiel said dangerously, shifting on his feet again, and Dean could sense how restless he was.

"Hush, Castiel," Lucifer said, not unkindly, as though speaking to an unruly child. "I could snuff out your grace with two fingers as easily as I could a candle." It wasn't a threat, exactly; Dean got the impression he was merely pointing out to Castiel the futility of his demands.

Castiel didn't seem intimidated by it, because he continued, "Do what you will, but I will not let you have him."

"Cas," Dean hissed under his breath, not wanting to piss off the devil more than necessary and wondering if Castiel was crazy. At the same time, Dean couldn't help but be proud of his defiance.

Lucifer ignored them both, as if he just couldn't be bothered. "As I was saying, I'm not much of a God fanboy myself. I think we could help each other out."

"No," Dean told him almost before he'd finished speaking.

"Dean," Lucifer sighed, "you haven't even heard my offer."

"No," Dean repeated, louder this time, even as he wondered if Lucifer would now smite all three of them.

But Lucifer didn't smite anyone. He didn't even look angry. All he said was, "Don't believe the hype. Just because I'm here now doesn't mean the world has to end, Dean. Look around you," he said, indicating the trees and the sky and all the wildlife in between with a small wave. Dean spared them only a cursory glance, but it was enough to see that a few birds and squirrels and even a fawn had gathered around the edge of the clearing. How perfect, even Bambi liked the devil; Dean wouldn't have been surprised if a couple of fucking butterflies had shown up next. Lucifer's next words distracted him from the thought, though. "None of this would still be here if I wanted the world to burn. And why would I? Do you honestly think I would escape from Hell just to turn Earth into more of the same?"

And that made Dean hesitate, but only for a second. Even so, it was a second too long. "Yes," he sneered. "Misery loves company, right? And in case you hadn't noticed, a lot of the world is burning."

Lucifer dropped his gaze for a brief moment, looking for all the world like he was chastised, before replying, "Perhaps my people have been somewhat... overenthusiastic, but I can make them stop, if you like." His eyes were clear in their sincerity, and Dean wished they weren't because this was the devil, and it terrified Dean that he was feeling even a little bit tempted.

Though it went against his better judgment, he couldn't not ask, "In exchange for what?"

Lucifer must have been waiting for this, because he smiled again, and his teeth gleamed white. It was a kind smile, but it made Dean shiver and wonder what he'd gotten them into. Anything that made the devil smile must be bad, right? Sam pressed closer to him. "In exchange for helping me spread the truth, of course," Lucifer said simply, as though this were obvious, though Dean had no idea what truth he was talking about. "We can lead all of God's creations to freedom."

"We were free," Sam snapped, speaking up for the first time, "right up until you came along."

"You humans have the gift of free will, it's true," Lucifer conceded, eyes sliding over to Sam again, "and yet so many of you still kneel in worship to God, and call Him your Lord. Why? And what of my brethren--" here his gaze swept over Castiel, "--are they free? Castiel here made a personal choice and God sent Michael and Gabriel to end him because a disobedient angel is a worthless one who deserves nothing but death. It is, as I believe you might say, bullshit."

Try as he might on principle, Dean couldn't really argue with that, so he said nothing and let Lucifer continue. "I'll tell you why God gave your kind free will, boys. He created me and my brothers and sisters so that He could be worshiped, and He was satisfied with that for awhile, but then He grew bored and wanted more. Angels had no choice but to worship God, you see, so He created humans who would worship Him even though they could choose not to. Free will came into existence for the purposes of an ego stroke, when it comes down to it, because God," he finished with the air of one delivering a grand punchline, "is an attention whore."

Dean arched his eyebrows. Castiel growled, "You blaspheme." And Lucifer laughed. It was a merry sound, and if it had been anyone else it would have put an unbidden smile on Dean's lips.

"Castiel, Castiel," Lucifer said in good humor, "For all that you've grown bold and insolent since we last saw each other, some things never change, do they? I am the devil. I was the first to blaspheme, and I like to think I haven't lost my touch." He turned back to Dean. "I hear you're not too shabby at it yourself, Dean. Think about my offer. We could all coexist in peace, angels and humans, free of the overlord who calls Himself God."

"And what about demons?" Dean asked, trying to find the catch.

Lucifer looked somber, at that. "What are demons but angels and humans who have been twisted by pain into something they're not? You were not so different yourself, once," he reminded Dean gently. Dean ground his teeth. It was on the tip of his tongue to say that he was nothing like demons, but that wasn't true, was it? "But you were saved, Dean," Lucifer continued. "And the others can be as well."

"You hate humans, though," Sam pointed out.

Lucifer lifted an eyebrow at him and said lightly, "Humans showed me that there could be more to my existence than endless servitude. That I could refuse to kneel before them even though they were my Father's newest and shiniest toys. It isn't the same as wanting all humans to die, Sam."

Sam had nothing to say to that, and Dean asked hoarsely, "Why me?" Why couldn't it be someone else for a change? He hadn't even wanted God's attention, and now he was getting the devil's, too, and he just wanted out.

The devil's lips curved into a small smirk and he replied, "Because you're the righteous man in all of God's prophecies, Dean Winchester. Who better to snub Him with?"

Dean gaped. Couldn't believe what he was hearing. "All of this is just so you can snub God?" he asked incredulously. "Goddamn, and I thought I had daddy issues."

"Mine is a bigger asshole than yours," Lucifer said solemnly, and if he hadn't been, you know, the devil, Dean might have actually laughed.

Castiel, however, was much less inclined to be amused. "Lucifer," he warned, voice low and threatening, like he was the one with the biggest stick here. He sounded dangerous, and that made Dean nervous for him. Lucifer hadn't shown any signs of wanting to harm them yet, but Castiel was pushing his luck.

"It's true, Castiel," Lucifer said mildly. "Have you forgotten the way He sat up there and watched you get raped a hundred times over?"

Dean certainly hadn't forgotten -- his own guardian angel, violated, broken, ashamed, shaking -- and he could actually feel something dark and violent snap inside himself at Lucifer's casual cruelty. He took an automatic step forward at the same time that he realized Castiel was moving too, and his sudden worry was enough to distract him from his fury. But Castiel was quicker than he was, and before Dean could reach out and grab his arm to prevent him from doing something incomprehensibly stupid, Castiel did something incomprehensibly stupid. He crossed the few feet to Lucifer in one stride and punched him square in the jaw, as hard as he could.

"Cas!" Dean yelled in shocked horror as everyone stood frozen. Lucifer was affected by Castiel's punch even less than Castiel had been affected by Dean's, back in the green room. His head didn't move an inch under the impact, but then his eyes flashed a too-bright light and he reached out to grab Castiel.

"You try my patience, Castiel," he said, and if Dean thought Castiel had sounded dangerous earlier, that was nothing compared to the way Lucifer spoke when he got angry. It wasn't particularly loud or gruff, but an enormous, raw power curled around his words and for the second time that night, Castiel found himself gripped by the neck and lifted into the air. This time, he could only make a strangled noise and struggle feebly, fingers scrabbling uselessly at Lucifer's hand and legs barely even kicking. Dean wasn't sure exactly what was going on because all Lucifer was doing was glaring at him, but it looked like Castiel was dying and maybe Dean hadn't been off the mark when he'd guessed that Lucifer could kill with his looks after all. "Let him go!" he yelled in a panic, and to his surprise, the devil listened to him.

He let Castiel drop to the ground like a rock and said, suddenly boredly, "If you insist."

Castiel wheezed and gasped at his feet on all fours, coughing up blood as he did so because his chest was still in shreds from the demon-Wendigo, and Dean wanted to go to him and possibly help him, possibly berate him for being so stupid, but he eyed Lucifer warily. "And what if I insist you leave us the fuck alone?" he asked.

Lucifer gave him an unconcerned shrug. "As long as you think about what I said. I will be seeing you again, Dean Winchester," he promised, and then he was gone in a familiar rush of air and Dean let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The entire forest seemed much darker now, and Dean thought distantly that the name 'Lightbringer' was an apt one.

But he would worry about Lucifer and what his appearance meant later. Even worrying about Sam almost using his demons powers again could wait for a little while. For now -- "Cas," he said, dropping to his knees next to him.

Castiel shrank away from him a little, but Dean didn't try to reach out to him, and he relaxed. He even stopped wheezing and coughing, and sat slowly back on his heels to give Dean a rather dazed look. Castiel was going to be fine, Dean reassured himself, and suddenly his concern morphed back into anger. He resolutely ignored the fact that he'd been about to do something just as stupid, probably, but he was Dean. He couldn't help it, that's just what he did. That didn't mean people he cared about were allowed to do the same thing, though, because dammit, Dean cared about them and it didn't matter if that was unfair. "What the fuck was that, Cas, you got a death wish or something?" he asked angrily.

For awhile Castiel didn't respond except to focus his eyes and furrow his brow, and Dean closed his own eyes because that wasn't a denial. He'd only said the first thing that had come to mind, he hadn't honestly thought -- "Jesus Christ, Cas," he snapped, opening his eyes again to glare at him, "tell me you don't."

Castiel licked his lips before saying, hoarsely and scratchily, "My wishes are irrelevant. God--"

"Screw God!" Dean interjected loudly, and Castiel's eyes narrowed, but he went on. "You still don't get it, do you, Cas? God doesn't give a shit about us, we already went over this, you can't keep existing for Him!"

Castiel broke their eye contact first to look away helplessly. His lips moved, but no sound came out, and he closed his mouth again. Then he glanced back at Dean with some reluctance. "I don't wish to die, Dean, but what does an angel with no purpose exist for?" he asked, and it was an honest question that he sounded like he actually expected Dean to have the answer to, even though Dean had told him before that he didn't.

Dean shook his head in cross disbelief and looked up at the sky, chewing on his lip to keep from yelling at the stupid bastard. He couldn't deal with an angel's existential crisis right now, not when he was still shaky from the adrenaline Lucifer had sent coursing through his veins, not when he had Sam and a million other things to stress over too. How could Castiel still not understand anything, after everything?

"You're angry with me," Castiel said softly, and so apologetically it made Dean sigh, because that wasn't what this was about at all.

He dropped his gaze back down to meet Castiel's worried one and said, more gently this time, "I just want you to be okay, Cas. Okay?"

It didn't seem to make Castiel feel better. In fact, it made him look sadder. "But I can't protect you from Lucifer," he said regretfully.

Dean very nearly rolled his eyes, but settled for a frown instead and said, "I don't want you to be okay so you can make sure I'm okay. I want you to be okay because I want you to be okay. You're my--" He paused, frowning some more and tasting the shape of the word on his tongue. It wasn't one that he ever used because it didn't really apply to anyone in Dean's life, not really, but as he sat here and looked at Castiel, the angel who had saved his soul from Hell and who listened to him and confided in him and bled for him and stood next to him against the devil, he realized that it was true. He may have subconsciously shied away from admitting it to himself and his brother, but somehow, at some point, Castiel had become more than just his 'not unwelcome angel stalker'. "You're my friend, Cas," he finished quietly, aware of how sappy it must sound to Sam, who was standing still behind him. But he didn't care enough to not say it because maybe, maybe this was what Castiel needed to hear. Dean couldn't be his God replacement, but he could be his friend, and he only hoped that might be enough some day. "And I really wish you would just heal yourself already, I hate it when you bleed," he added sulkily, because he could feel the tips of his ears warming and it was all Castiel's fault.

Castiel's eyes were impossibly wide, but after a moment he nodded slowly and began to glow. It wasn't bright enough to hurt Dean's eyes, so he watched, fascinated, as the open wounds in Castiel's chest closed in on themselves and then his torn clothes mended over the newly unbroken skin. The entire process took less than ten seconds. Last to disappear was the blood, which simply vanished from one blink to the next, and then the glow faded and Dean blinked again, impressed. "Whoa," he said. "That's even cooler than when Hugh Jackman does it. Not to mention shinier."

Castiel gave him that patented, confused head tilt, but when Dean gave him a small, experimental smile, a corner of his lips lifted. It didn't last long, though, because then Castiel suddenly looked away again and he said only, "I have to go," before vanishing and leaving Dean with only a faint draft of air on his face.

"Ever the friendly one, eh," Dean muttered under his breath, but without any real irritation. He stood and turned to face Sam, who had watched the entire exchange in silence and whose expression was neutral, and was almost glad there was still work to do before they had to have another fight over Sam using his powers. Dean was feeling drained enough to want to put it off for an hour or two.

But when they finally found the demon-Wendigo's lair, all of its victims were already dead and none of them were Jo. They'd come up empty-handed once again, and it did nothing to improve either of their moods.

***

Dean and Sam had the conversation while driving back to town because the silence was so strained it made Dean twitch.

"So," he began with a forced casualness, "what was that about promising not to use your powers again?" He couldn't decide what he was more upset about, the fact that there was still a chance Sam might go dark or that he still couldn't trust his little brother after all.

Dean was watching the road, but he could practically hear the muscle in Sam's jaw twitch. "I didn't," he said shortly.

"You were going to."

"Yeah, and you were going to get ripped apart, Dean," Sam shot back. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Whatever you would have done back before Ruby poisoned you, Sam!" Dean really, really hated that the bitch was still getting between them now, months after they'd killed her. At least before, he'd been able to channel some of his rage and frustration into fantasizing about killing her, and he'd been able to tell himself that once she was dead, things could get fixed. Now he had neither a demon to take his anger out on nor a hurdle to look forward to clearing between where they were now and things being okay again. Dean could only grip the steering wheel tighter and worry.

Sam blew out an impatient breath. "The things we dealt with back then weren't even close to being in the same league as some of the things we have to deal with these days, Dean," he pointed out, and Dean could tell that he'd been planning to say that ever since Lucifer and Castiel had left them to their own devices.

He couldn't believe that after everything, after releasing the fucking devil himself, Sam was still trying to justify it. He shook his head, because he couldn't even begin to come up with something to say that could convince his brother he was wrong. He'd already said everything he could think of till he was blue in the face, and it apparently hadn't made a difference after all, despite the fact that Sam had appeared to agree with him. And maybe that was what hurt the most. "Then why did you even promise, Sam?" he asked, hating the aching vulnerability in his own voice.

"I meant it at the time, Dean, I swear I did," Sam insisted quietly, "but if the choice is between breaking a promise and watching you die again, I'm always going to break the promise."

Dean pursed his lips and tried to take a deep breath or two before replying, "Tell me something, then. Where are you gonna draw the line? What if it's Bobby? Or Ellen or Jo or even Cas? What if it's someone we don't even know?"

"You didn't tell me to stop, earlier, when it was Cas," Sam pointed out, a hint of something accusing creeping into his tone. And Dean couldn't deny it, which was what made it worse. If he did stop Sam from using his powers one day and Castiel -- or Bobby or Ellen or Jo -- died because of it, Dean would regret it. But that didn't make it okay.

They let the silence settle uncomfortably between them for so long Dean thought the conversation was over, so when he spotted a twenty-four hour diner on the side of the road, he pulled into the parking lot, tires screeching loudly because Dean didn't know how else to vent his frustration.

"I don't know where the line is," Sam admitted at last, sounding more subdued than Dean had heard him sound since right after Lucifer had risen.

He didn't know how to reply, and dinner was a quiet one.

***

"I'm going for a walk," Dean announced as soon as he'd pulled into the parking lot of the motel and cut the engine. He didn't wait for a response from Sam before getting out of the car and walking in the opposite direction of their room. There was nothing that way except for more rooms and more cars, but Dean wasn't exactly trying to go on a scenic stroll here. He just needed to get away from Sam, if only for a little while.

He wasn't surprised at all when Castiel fell into step beside him with a rustle, and he didn't even glance to the side before he said, tiredly but not unhappily, "Hey, Cas."

Castiel remained silent, though, and then Dean did look. He seemed troubled, which led Dean to prompt, "What is it?"

For awhile, Castiel said nothing, so Dean figured it couldn't be that urgent and they merely walked side by side in a silence broken only by the sound of their shoes against the pavement. It was strangely calming in its rhythmic steadiness and the simple fact that the sound from Castiel's shoes was distinct from but in sync with the sound from his own made Dean feel less alone in his world of problem after problem. He found himself feeling grateful for the company, like he had when Castiel had sat beside his hospital bed, quiet but there, and somehow that had reassured Dean. Or at least, it had felt like a temporary shelter, keeping at bay everything in the world that Dean would inevitably have to deal with and giving him a moment to rest.

Castiel finally interrupted his thoughts to ask softly, "Did you mean it?"

Dean didn't need to ask what he meant. "Yes," he replied without hesitation.

It didn't erase the troubled look from Castiel's features, though, and Dean began to feel uneasy. He'd thought Castiel would be pleased to know Dean considered him a friend, but maybe he'd misread. The thought stung, he realized. "Well, no one's forcing you to be my friend, Castiel," he said stiffly, "I'll go back to thinking of you as my creepy angel stalker if that's what you want."

Castiel looked at him in surprise. "No," he said quickly, and Dean relaxed a fraction. "No." But then he paused and looked away again and didn't elaborate.

Dean rolled his eyes. Castiel's silence wasn't always calming. "Just spit it out, Cas."

"You should stop hiding from the angels," Castiel said eventually, with some reluctance. "Lucifer has already proven that he can find you at will. You need an archangel--"

"No," Dean said immediately. He could already see where this was going.

"Dean--"

"No," Dean repeated, more forcefully this time. "It means you would have to leave, right, since you're still hiding from them? I wouldn't be able to see you again?"

Castiel's shoulders slumped visibly, and that was all the confirmation Dean needed. "Then I don't want it," he finished.

"But I cannot protect you from Lucifer at all," Castiel insisted, sounding torn. "You need an angel who--"

"--Who I can trust!" Dean finished for him. And maybe he didn't trust Castiel completely -- not yet, anyway -- but he certainly trusted him infinitely more than any other angel. He trusted Castiel to be a friend when he needed one. "Dammit, Cas," he sighed. "I don't care if you're balls at fighting, okay? You're my angel, and I don't want anyone else."

Castiel looked surprised, gratified, and unconvinced. "You shouldn't--" he began uncomfortably, but then stopped and bit his lip. Dean didn't care what Castiel thought he shouldn't do, so he didn't press him to finish. Whatever he'd been about to say wouldn't have changed anything anyway. Dean wasn't about to let Castiel talk him into sending him away to be even more alone than he already was. What was it with this stupid self-sacrificing angel anyway? He would have made a good Winchester, Dean thought self-deprecatingly.

It was a good while before Castiel spoke again, and when he did, it caught Dean off guard. "What do friends do together?"

"Uh," he replied, and scratched his head as he tried to wrap his mind around the sudden subject change. It took him a few seconds to come up with an answer because the truth of it was, he didn't really know for sure. Dean Winchester didn't have friends, after all. He had Sam who was his everything, Bobby who was his father figure, and a number of hunters he considered colleagues and acquaintances, but he didn't have friends. Except for Castiel, now, and he quipped, "Friends stalk each other and are annoying because they say cryptic things and fly off when you'd rather they stuck around." He paused here, somehow feeling weird about having admitted to wanting Castiel around more. "Where do you fly off to, anyway?"

They both turned to glance at each other at the same time, and as Castiel studied him, Dean could see him almost smile again. "My cloud," he replied solemnly.

Dean huffed in amusement and returned to staring straight ahead. They walked on for a bit in semi-companionable silence, and then he said, "Friends drink beer together and go to movies and clubs and have a good time. Or, when they're not having a good time, they stick around and try to cheer each other up. And they talk to each other." It was what he did with Sam, anyway, and he figured that had to be close enough.

Castiel was watching him quietly. "Would you like to do any of those things tonight?" he asked, and though his expression gave nothing away Dean thought he sounded almost shy. Then again, he also thought Castiel sounded a touch guilty, so maybe he wasn't so great at this angel-reading thing yet.

He quirked his lips and asked, "You want a beer, Cas?"

Castiel didn't really look like he wanted a beer, but he humored Dean. "As long as you're not entertaining the notion of trying to get me drunk," he warned.

Dean laughed and put on his best innocent face. "Would I do something like that?"

"Yes," Castiel replied without hesitation, which earned him a small grin.

"Maybe next time," Dean winked. He wasn't much in the mood to get wasted himself, tonight.

Castiel looked away, and this time there was no mistaking the hint of guilt. Dean frowned. "What is it?"

After a moment's hesitation, Castiel said, "I'll tell you after we have our beer."

Dean narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but he decided to let it slide this time. Whatever it was, he was surprisingly content to let it wait, because having Castiel at his side and an open, star-filled sky above his head let him put off thinking about Lucifer and Sam's demon powers for the time being and he was loathe to give it up yet. They'd already walked the perimeter of the motel grounds, anyway, and were heading back toward the Impala.

When they reached it, he grabbed two beers out of the cooler and opened Castiel's for him before handing it to him. Castiel gave it a delicate sniff and then took a sip, brow furrowing and nose wrinkling as he did so. If angels could be cute, Dean was pretty sure Castiel would be.

"Guess you're not a fan, huh?" he asked, amused.

"Beer," Castiel declared ominously, "is vile."

Dean laughed and opened his own, leaning back against the trunk as he did so. "It's an acquired taste," he assured him. "Keep hanging out with me and it'll grow on you, you'll see."

Castiel seemed to hesitate, but then he, too, leaned back against the trunk, next to Dean but with a few inches between them. Dean found he didn't mind, and after a few moments Castiel relaxed and took another sip of the beer, vile as it was. He stared up at the stars, apparently lost in thought.

"You're not still thinking about handing me off to an archangel, are you, Cas?" Dean sighed. He didn't particularly want to talk about it, but he didn't want to leave the issue unresolved, either.

"It would be wise," Castiel replied evenly, still looking up at the sky.

Dean rolled his eyes. "First of all, I'm the righteous man," he said, tone taking a mocking turn at the last two words, "not the wise man. And second of all, I'm not yours to hand off to anyone. I get a say in the matter too, and I say I would take you over a goddamned archangel any day of the week."

"Maybe," Castiel said, suddenly dropping his gaze down to his beer. He still wouldn't look at Dean. "Maybe not."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean asked, growing irritated. His need to know was becoming more pressing with every cryptic thing Castiel said. "What aren't you telling me, Cas, what did you do?"

Castiel chose drinking more beer over answering Dean's question, and Dean shook his head in frustration. "If some archangel takes up stalking me and he's even more infuriating than you are, no one will have to worry about Lucifer getting his horns in me because an aneurysm will beat him to the punch."

Castiel glanced at him finally and asked, "Friends aren't supposed to infuriate each other, are they?"

Again, Dean thought of Sam, and his lips twisted. He shrugged. "I think they're supposed to be at least a little infuriating," he allowed.

"Oh." Castiel actually seemed pleased.

"Why," Dean teased, "do I infuriate you too or something?"

"Often," Castiel confessed, to a smirk from Dean. "But not like... Not like others infuriate me," he finished with a small frown.

"Derek?" Dean ventured, thinking Castiel probably wouldn't want to talk about it but opening up the opportunity for him to do so just in case. He took a long swig of beer and carefully didn't watch Castiel's reaction to the mention of the name.

Castiel sighed beside him and drank more of his beer, too. Dean wondered why, if he found it so vile. "Not just him," Castiel said, so softly Dean had to strain to hear him. "Everyone. Even those who have done nothing to deserve it."

Dean blinked in surprise, but he remembered what that felt like, to be hurt so badly he'd actually reveled in being able to lash out at anyone and everyone he could get his hands on, in being able to smile when they screamed because at least it meant he wasn't the one screaming anymore. Dean was just surprised Castiel could maybe be similarly fucked up (and now that he thought of it, it certainly explained the way Castiel seemed snappy and irritable sometimes for no apparent reason) because that didn't seem right, did it? Castiel should be above that because he was an angel, and the fact that he wasn't unsettled and saddened Dean. But it also made him feel closer to Castiel, in a way. Or at least, some small, traitorous part of him secretly liked that he could relate to him in this. "It gets better," he promised. "When good things happen. And they do happen," he added with a small smile for his unlikely companion.

But Castiel didn't look like he believed it anymore. "Not in my experience," he replied, and something about the irony of their role reversals struck Dean as kind of depressing.

"I changed my mind about that," he pointed out, and he wanted to change Castiel's mind, too. "I mean, sure, it's the end of the world and all, shit happens, but sometimes a hot chick will buy you a drink, or your little brother will sleep through an entire night, or you'll save someone and they'll look at you like you're the best thing that's ever happened to them and thank you for it, or you'll discover that not all angels are dicks after all..." He paused and glanced at Castiel, who had been steadily drinking beer during his entire spiel. He was almost done with it, and Dean didn't know how he felt about that, but he didn't comment. "I don't think I ever thanked you for that, actually," he said instead. "So, thanks, Cas."

At that, Castiel shook his head once and then finished his beer, but he didn't reply for several minutes. Dean could tell he was working his way up to saying whatever he'd promised he'd tell Dean, and he was torn between trying to be patient and worrying that if it was taking this long for Castiel to say it, it would probably be bad. He wanted to trust Castiel, he did, and now he was just afraid of being let down by both Sam and Castiel in one night. Dean looked away from him and concentrated on his own beer.

"I let Sam out of the panic room," Castiel said at last, barely above a whisper, and that wasn't what Dean had been expecting at all. He looked over at him sharply, but Castiel stared resolutely into his empty beer bottle and refused to meet his gaze.

To be honest, it had occurred to Dean before, after he'd found out about Zachariah's plan, but he'd convinced himself at the time that it had been some other angel because that had been easier. Now, the knowledge that it had been Castiel after all -- well, Dean wasn't shocked, but he was angry and hurt. Angry because the entire fucking apocalypse could have been prevented if only Castiel had grown a pair sooner, Sam wouldn't be walking around every day with that haunted look in his eyes, Jo would still be back at the roadhouse with Ellen, and the list of people who died and things that went to shit because of Dean wouldn't be anywhere near as long and crushing as it was now. And he was hurt because Castiel had deceived him and of all the times they could have talked about this, he'd chosen tonight, when Dean was already down. He hadn't wanted to feel betrayed by both his brother and his angel in one night, and now that was exactly how he was feeling, and it made Dean lash out, "Get the fuck away from me."

Castiel flinched and looked like everything he'd been afraid of happening was finally happening. Welcome to the club, Dean thought meanly, but when Castiel handed him his empty beer bottle, Dean accepted it automatically. Castiel lifted his eyes to meet Dean's with obvious difficulty, and they were so miserable it startled Dean. He'd thought Castiel might be upset that he was angry, but he hadn't thought Castiel might look like he was on the brink of losing everything in the world that mattered to him. Dean's breath caught at the intensity of the emotion there, but he would have to figure out what it meant later. "I'm sorry," Castiel said, sounding desperately pained. "And I." He bit his lip and shifted restlessly, but then he forced himself to continue, "For what it's worth, I'm glad we could be friends, if only for a night. I'm just sorry you regret it now, as I knew you would."

"What," Dean said crossly, trying to push down his anger and hurt for long enough to process Castiel's words, because this was important, he could see that much. When he understood what Castiel was getting at it, it only fueled his ire. "What the fuck, Cas," he growled, "you don't get to tell me you're the fucker who let all of this happen and then imply that I'm the shit friend here who's going to call everything off just because I can't forgive a mistake." Sure, he was upset now, but that didn't mean he would be upset forever. Dean knew, rationally, that he could forgive Castiel eventually, because Castiel had done it before he'd chosen Dean over his orders rather than after and that made all the difference in the world, but he just wasn't rational right now. He didn't want to be rational right now, he just wanted to be left the fuck alone.

It took a moment for that to register, and then Castiel simply looked uncertain. "What?" he asked, voice small.

Dean wanted to punch him again for being so infuriating, but he looked away for a moment to try to calm himself, jaw working tensely. "Look," he said finally, in a barely controlled voice, and it was difficult to stop himself from saying something he'd regret later, but he managed it. "I'm pissed, but I'll get over it, just give me some time."

Castiel still looked confused and he asked, tentatively, "So we're not... done?"

"No, Cas, Jesus," Dean snapped. "We are not done. I just want you to shut up and fuck off now, but I want you to come back later, okay?"

For all that Castiel was frowning intently, he also looked hopeful in a terrified sort of way, but Dean didn't get to study his expression for more than a few seconds because Castiel did as he asked and fucked off, leaving Dean alone in the parking lot with two beer bottles and the sudden guilt from realizing he'd done exactly what he'd promised himself he wouldn't do. He'd given Castiel a direct order, and Castiel had obeyed it.

"Fuck," Dean said, with feeling, wondering why he even bothered with anything when he knew everything would inevitably turn sour anyway. Now he was worked up all over again, so much for taking a walk to think things through and let them settle down. He gave up, kicked irritably at a pebble in his way, and went back inside.

At least Sam was either asleep or pretending to be asleep, though, so Dean thankfully wasn't tempted to pick another fight with him. He threw himself down on his own bed and tried to sleep, but it didn't happen for some time because Lucifer and Sam and Castiel and Jo simply wouldn't let it happen.

Part 5