tracy_loo_who | Fic: And I Will Walk On Water (10/18)

Title: And I Will Walk On Water (10/18)
Characters: Dean and Castiel, Sam
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~6,600
Notes: This chapter was saved, as always, by

ibroketuesday. ♥
Summary: Dean tries to fix things, and then he has to try even harder.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

It wasn't until Sam came hurrying out to the car and got into the backseat with him that Dean bothered to move, and even then, all he did was lift his head from the window.

"Dude, you've been out here forever," Sam said, looking damp and worried as he gave Dean a once-over and then brought his eyes back up to Dean's face. "What's wrong?"

Everything was wrong. He'd fucked up, he'd fucked Castiel up, he'd fucked their friendship up, and the world was still ending, slowly but surely. If he'd had the energy, Dean would have laughed bitterly. But he didn't have the energy, so he merely shook his head.

Sam frowned and glanced down at the sopping heap that was Castiel's discarded suit jacket and trench coat. "Where's Cas?"

"Gone," was all Dean said. Probably forever, if he knew what was best for himself. The thought made Dean absolutely miserable. All he wanted was for Castiel to come back so he could try to apologize and make everything okay again, to wipe away that look of betrayal and make Castiel okay again, but Castiel had never been okay, not really, and Dean hadn't even noticed. He'd been too busy soaking in all that uncomplicated affection and wanting even more when he should have been trying to be a better friend. He didn't blame Castiel for leaving because he'd been right to, and maybe that was the worst part, this realization that he didn't want what was best for Castiel. Dean just wanted Castiel to be his again.

"Is he alright?" Sam prompted.

Dean didn't even bother lying. "No."

"Uh." His brother looked bewildered. "Should we be looking for him?"

"No," Dean said again. Even if they did have a hope in hell of finding an angel who didn't want to be found, he was sure he was the last person Castiel wanted to see.

"Dean," Sam said in frustration, "what the hell is going on between you two? You've been staring at him for weeks, don't think I haven't noticed, and now he's gone and you're practically catatonic? If I didn't know better I'd think you two were having some sort of lovers' spat or something."

Dean snorted, more bitterly than he'd intended, and said, "Just drop it, okay?" And he must have sounded tired enough or desperate enough because after a long moment of studying him with an unreadable expression, Sam looked away with a sigh.

"Fine. I'll be back in the room."

He left quietly, but after he was gone and the only sound Dean was left with was that of the incessant rain hitting the car, Dean found himself wishing his brother had stayed. He didn't want to talk, but it was less lonely when someone else was there with him, just sitting quietly, the way Castiel would. He could always content himself with Dean's presence and his own thoughts, and fuck, but Dean wished he would come back. He didn't want to kiss Castiel anymore, or even touch him. All he wanted was for Castiel to know that he was sorry, and to stop hating him and give him a second chance he probably didn't deserve.

But Castiel didn't come back, and Dean didn't get his second chance. He didn't realize he'd subconsciously been waiting for Castiel despite being sure he was really gone until what was probably several hours later, when it was well and truly nighttime and Dean's bladder forced him to go back inside. He took Castiel's clothes in with him because it felt wrong to leave them crumpled on the floor of the car, or maybe just because he still hoped Castiel would come back to reclaim them. Either way, Dean hung them up in the bathroom, and Sam didn't say a word.

Dean was miserable and aching when he threw himself into his bed, and if Sam hadn't been awake, still, he might have hugged his pillow. Not that it would have filled the new, Castiel-shaped hole in his life anyway.

***

He woke up to Sam's surprised voice saying, "Cas! Are you alright?"

Before Castiel could reply, though, Dean had opened his eyes and was sitting bolt upright, his heart catching in his throat and unable to utter a sound. Impossible as it was, Castiel was there, looking just the same as always: rumpled hair and trench coat, solemn expression. He was dry, and more importantly, he was there.

"Cas--" Dean breathed, all shock and the beginnings of cautious hope. "You're here."

Castiel glanced at him, but didn't quite meet his eyes. "Where else would I be?" he asked awkwardly, looking like he was addressing someone over Dean's shoulder. Dean's heart sank a little.

He didn't know how to reply because not here sounded stupid and Dean was trying very hard to be careful about what he said, but then Sam saved him. "I'll, uh, go get us some breakfast," he said as he pushed the covers off of himself and got out of bed. Dean could have hugged him.

"No," Castiel said, a little too quickly, and they both looked at him with a small frown. He added, "I'll do it." And then he was gone, before either of them could say anything.

Dean shot a helpless look at Sam, who merely shrugged. But after a moment, he decided it was probably alright, because Castiel would come back, and Dean would get his second chance. And he wouldn't fuck it up this time. He'd fix everything, and then he'd be the best friend Castiel had ever had.

It was easier said than done, though, because when Castiel returned with donuts and only two coffees ten minutes later, Dean still wasn't sure what to say. He eyed their breakfast uncomfortably. "You're not supposed to--" Dean paused, decided he shouldn't tell Castiel what he was and wasn't supposed to do, and amended with a sigh, "This isn't how it's supposed to be, Cas." It felt uncomfortably like Castiel had reverted back to his old habit of trying to give Dean whatever he wanted, when really it should have been the other way around.

Apparently, though, it had been the wrong thing to say, because Castiel actually flinched a little and gave Dean's shoulder a nervous look before quickly glancing away and setting the coffee and donuts on the table. Dean gave Sam another helpless, bewildered look.

"Thanks, Cas, but you didn't have to," Sam tried. Castiel looked at him but didn't reply, and Sam suddenly started packing up his laptop. "There are a few more things I wanted to look up, but I'm gonna go to the library since the internet here is shit."

It was a lie -- he hadn't complained about the internet once the day before -- but again, Dean could have hugged him. Castiel, however, widened his eyes in what could have been mild panic and gave Sam a silent, pleading look. Dean realized with a pang that Castiel just didn't want to be left alone with him, and from the way Sam hesitated and cast Dean a questioning glance, he could tell his brother was having the same thought.

Dean bit his lip, and that apparently made up Sam's mind. He pretended he hadn't seen Castiel's look and grabbed his coffee and a couple of donuts on his way out, saying, "See you two later."

When he was gone, Castiel stared at the floor.

"Cas," Dean began hesitantly, and licked his lips. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Castiel replied shortly.

Dean blinked and frowned, and then he tried again. "Can we start over, then?" He glanced at the table and thought back to the last time they'd shared donuts. Castiel had smiled at him, and then Dean had taken him to the bakery and he had told Dean he wanted to try everything in the world with him. That had been near the beginning of their attempt at friendship, and Dean remembered it wistfully. It seemed like such a long time ago, now, but he didn't mind going back to the basics if that's what it took. "Want a donut?"

But Castiel shook his head, and Dean sighed in frustration. "Look, Cas, about yesterday--"

He stopped when Castiel opened his mouth to say something, but then Castiel changed his mind with what looked like a flicker of fear and simply disappeared without a word.

Dean swore under his breath and wondered how he'd gotten it so wrong already. He kept replaying the scene in his head, trying to figure it out, but he was no closer to an answer when Sam came back an hour later. Dean's coffee had long since gone cold, but he drank it anyway and ate the donuts just because Castiel had given them to him and he couldn't bear the thought of throwing them away.

***

Most of the rest of that day was spent on the road, and they didn't see Castiel again until the next day, when they arrived at a museum, ready to kick some demonic ass. Castiel was already there, breathing heavily amidst the recovering victims. Dean and Sam glanced at each other in confusion, but then Sam went to help an old woman who was struggling to get up and Dean went over to Castiel.

"You could have waited up for us, you know," he said with a forced lightness, and wondered why his words made a worried look pass over Castiel's features.

Again, Castiel stared at the region around Dean's shoulder. It made a muscle in Dean's jaw tense, but he refrained from saying anything. "I thought it would be better this way," Castiel said stiffly. "I'm sorry."

"Cas, no," Dean said, more confused than ever now. He pursed his lips for a moment and had no idea what he was supposed to say, but then he went for, "Don't apologize, okay? I'm the one who fucked up." He was aware that there were people around them, some still staring at Castiel in awe, but he didn't care.

"You..." Castiel began, but then he stopped and glanced around like he had a nervous twitch in his eye. A blink later, there was nothing but empty space where he'd stood. Dean ignored the small gasps around him and clenched his fists.

***

Castiel didn't spend as much time with them anymore, but he still seemed to like the Impala, because when Dean glanced out the motel window the next morning, Castiel was sitting on top of his car, just as he had when they'd been at Bobby's. Dean left Sam asleep in bed and went outside.

"Hey, Cas," he said tentatively, praying Castiel wouldn't leave this time. He didn't want to have to spend another day wondering where the hell he'd gone wrong and if Castiel would come back one more time.

Perhaps Castiel heard his prayer, because he glanced down at Dean and said, "Hello, Dean." It sounded exactly the same way as it always sounded, but Dean wasn't fooled into thinking anything was okay because Castiel still wouldn't meet his eyes.

He rubbed at his eyes in frustration with one hand and admitted, "I don't get you, Cas. At first I thought everything would be okay again if only you'd come back, but then you did come back, only to leave again every time I try to talk to you, and nothing's okay, still."

Castiel lowered his gaze to the pavement and said softly, "Dean." It almost sounded like he was pleading for something, and Dean wanted desperately to know what that was because he would give it to Castiel in a heartbeat, whatever it was, but he didn't know.

"Yeah?"

Instead of saying anything more, though, Castiel only gave a helpless shake of his head and disappeared.

Dean very nearly screamed. All he wanted was for things to go back to the way they'd been before, but how was he supposed to fix anything when Castiel blinked out every time he tried? He was missing something crucial here, he knew it, but Dean couldn't even begin to guess at what Castiel kept wanting to say and he doubted spending another day worrying over it would change anything. He did it anyway.

***

Maybe Castiel would stay if Dean pretended everything was okay. He tested this theory out during the next case, and was all smiles and quips whenever Castiel was around. It seemed to make him more comfortable after all, and even though he still wouldn't quite look at Dean, at least he wasn't so flighty. He even quirked a corner of his lips once or twice at Dean's jokes.

After a whole day of this, though, Dean stopped being able to pretend, because when Sam made clear his intention to leave for awhile, Castiel still tensed visibly. There was just no way they could get past this without talking about it first, apparently.

As soon as Sam was gone, Dean said, "Don't you go disappearing on me again." Castiel looked like he wanted to do just that, if the trapped expression on his face was anything to go by, but he merely stared at the floor and said nothing. Dean sighed. "Come on, Cas, I know there's something you wanna say. Just spit it out already."

For a long time Castiel didn't reply, but he glared at the floor so tensely he was almost trembling from it, and Dean braced himself for the worst. Maybe this was where Castiel would finally unload on him and that would be the end; maybe part of Castiel was reluctant to let Dean go, too -- he'd said so in as many words, after all -- and he knew there could be no hanging around anymore once he'd said what he needed to say. As the silence stretched out between them, Dean could feel his own panic rising, because I'm sorry was beginning to sound more and more pathetic even in his head.

Finally, Castiel relaxed a measure, in what seemed like resignation. Instead of saying anything, though, he approached Dean and put a hand on his shoulder. Then he pushed down until Dean was forced to sit back on the edge of his bed, and Dean blinked up at him in bewilderment. A moment later, his bewilderment turned into a creeping dread when Castiel slid to his knees between his legs, and when he took a deep breath and closed trembling fingers around Dean's belt buckle, the ball dropped.

"Jesus Christ, Cas," Dean yelled, shoving him and his hands away in shocked panic, hard enough to make Castiel flinch. He would have stood up if Castiel hadn't still been on his knees in front of the bed, but he didn't want to get any closer, so he scrambled backwards onto the bed and rolled off the side.

"What's the matter?" Castiel asked before Dean had even finished righting himself, with enough earnestness to hurt Dean's heart. "I'm good at this, you'll see." An image came unbidden to his mind, the one Zachariah had painted, of Castiel begging to be allowed to suck cock so they wouldn't torture him. Dean suddenly wanted to throw up. Before he could say anything, though, Castiel asked uncertainly, "Isn't this what you wanted?"

"No," Dean choked out, and that was all he was capable of saying at the moment. Castiel looked stricken.

Dean was still so numb from shock and utter horror that he couldn't quite keep up with what was going on. It wasn't until after Castiel had slipped out of his trench coat and suit jacket and was unbuttoning his shirt that Dean even registered that he was undressing himself. He asked, mouth dry, "What are you doing?"

Castiel paused and looked up at Dean's mouth, the expression on his face one of resignation. "I assume you want to fuck me," he said, and nothing Dean had ever heard had sounded more wrong than this, an angel -- his Cas -- saying the words fuck me.

It put Dean dangerously close to the end of his wits. "You assume I want to--" God, but he couldn't even say the words. "What the fuck, Cas," he snarled instead, so loudly and so vehemently that Castiel flinched again and must have panicked, because suddenly Dean found himself alone in the room with only his own harsh breaths in his ears.

He felt sick enough that he immediately went to huddle over the toilet and grip the seat with shaking hands, but nothing came up and Dean eventually sat back and slumped against the shower stall. From where he was, he could see the pile of Castiel's suit and trench coat on the floor, but he didn't dare touch them this time.

What he needed was a long, scalding shower, but there was no point. It wouldn't change the fact that Castiel had taken his chaste little kiss of warmth and comfort to mean that Dean wanted him as a sex toy. It wouldn't change the fact that Castiel was apparently okay with that. The thought brought with it a fresh wave of nausea, and Dean groaned and wondered how the fuck things had gotten to this point. He hadn't thought anything could be worse than Castiel hating him, but this was much, much worse.

Dean was still in the bathroom when Sam came back some time later.

"Dean!" he said, immediately dropping his laptop bag and coming over to crouch in front of him. Dean didn't miss the way he'd glanced down at Castiel's clothes as he'd stepped over them.

Before Sam could start with his usual fussy mother hen routine, Dean said tonelessly, "I kissed him." He was tired of keeping the truth from his brother, and he couldn't deal with this one on his own, not this time.

There was a thick silence, but Dean didn't even bother to glance up at Sam's expression. He simply waited for him to say something. "Dean," Sam eventually said, hesitantly, "he's--"

"I know," Dean said impatiently. "He's an angel, he's riding around in Jimmy's body, he's a guy, except he's an angel, and now we're back to the angel thing. I know he'll never want me back and that it was possibly the dumbest thing I've ever done, aside from starting the apocalypse. I know, okay?"

After another long silence, Sam let it go. "So what did he do?" he asked, obviously trying not to sound uncomfortable. He sounded uncomfortable anyway, but Dean appreciated that he was trying.

"Freaked out and flew off," he replied. "That was the other day. Today he tried to give me a blow job and told me I could fuck him."

"He what--"

Dean closed his eyes and waited for his brother to finish freaking out.

"Uhm," Sam said, and maybe it only seemed like hours later because Dean had been holding his breath, "that's messed up."

Dean let out his breath and opened his eyes to glare at his little brother, because no shit, Sherlock didn't even begin to cover it.

Sam seemed to recover quickly and said, "You gotta talk to him, Dean."

"Talk to him?" Dean echoed, and let out a short, humorless huff. "What the fuck do I even say?"

"Everything," Sam told him. "I don't know how much you really like him, I mean, I thought you were just being weird, but judging from the way you've been staring at him, uh." His voice faltered when Dean glared again, but then he continued, "Look, I know you hate talking about your feelings, but you have to tell him. If you don't, I mean, he was..." Sam bit his lip and finished more gently, "What else could he possibly think?"

Dean knew he was right, and actually the thought of confessing his feelings didn't make him uncomfortable at all, not when the alternative was letting Castiel continue thinking what he was thinking. But-- "What if he doesn't believe me?" he asked miserably. Considering his track record, he would probably end up sending Castiel away thinking their entire friendship had been some kind of scheme to get into his pants. Maybe Castiel already thought that. Dean gritted his teeth and wanted to kill something.

"Well, it's all true, isn't it?" Sam asked. When Dean grimaced, he smiled faintly and assured him, "He'll believe you, Dean."

Part of Dean wanted to demand to know how he could be so sure, but in the end, all he did was nod.

"So... I guess I should make myself scarce again, huh?" Sam said wryly.

Dean snorted. His brother may have set Lucifer free, but he still loved the kid. "Thanks."

"Sure," Sam replied easily. He stood up and headed out of the bathroom, still calling over his shoulder, "Just remember that sentiment in case he does decide he wants you after all and try not to scar me forever. I'm disillusioned enough about angels as it is." It was a jest and Dean knew it, but he couldn't help grimacing again. Doing anything sexual with Castiel was the very last thing he wanted to think about right now.

After Sam had gone, Dean stood up and stared at himself in the mirror. He looked drawn and wan, and he couldn't help wondering what Castiel saw when he looked at him. Castiel could probably see his soul, and for once that thought didn't make him wince with its cheesiness. It was quite literal, and Dean only hoped it would help convince Castiel he was telling the truth. Dean wondered what he should say, and spent a few minutes trying to come up with the right words, but he eventually gave that up and just hoped they would come to him.

"Cas?" he called softly as he went back out to the main room. "Cas, come back. Please." He waited for awhile, and just as he was opening his mouth to try again, a quiet rustle let him know Castiel was here.

Dean turned, mouth still open, but Castiel spoke first. "I don't understand what I did wrong," he said, sounding apologetic and half afraid Dean might start yelling again. "Tell me what you want, Dean."

Dean rubbed at his face with both hands and tried to remain calm. "Is this really all you think you're worth?" he asked finally.

Castiel glanced away, down at Dean's bed, and frowned faintly in what was probably assent. He looked incredibly exposed in his white shirt and tie, and Dean just wanted to wrap his trench coat around his shoulders and cover him up, but he didn't move. Castiel was a safe few feet away from him, and that was a good thing. "Look, Cas," he said when it became clear Castiel wasn't going to answer him, "all I want is for you to stay there. Don't come any closer, but don't leave, either. Just... just stay there and listen to me, okay?"

For a moment Castiel's expression became worried, but then he merely nodded at the bed, looking miserable. Dean sighed. "Will you at least look at me?"

At first Castiel hesitated, but then he slowly brought his eyes up to meet Dean's, for the first time since Dean had kissed him. He looked terrified.

"Cas," Dean began, a little helplessly. "Look, whatever the hell is going on inside that head of yours, you've got it all wrong. I don't care what those demons made you believe, or what Zachariah still wants you to believe, but you are not some kind of sex object. Not anybody's, but especially not mine, because honestly, Cas? It breaks my heart that you could think that." Castiel bit his lip and his gaze flickered away almost guiltily, but when he looked back up at Dean a moment later, he seemed calmer, so Dean continued, "You're worth more than that to me, okay? I care about you, you're my best friend, and maybe..." He trailed off and took a deep breath. "Maybe that grew into something more somewhere along the way, but it wasn't ever... I never wanted this, Cas."

Castiel looked dubious. "You don't want sex?"

"I--" Dean paused and let out a slow breath as he looked for the right words. This really wasn't his strength, but he had to try. "I did," he admitted, and when Castiel shrunk back almost imperceptibly, he hurried to add, "but not like this. I never would have kissed you if I hadn't thought you'd wanted it too, Cas, I swear. And I'm not gonna do anything you don't want again."

"You want me to want it," Castiel said haltingly, and looked at Dean, who merely shrugged. It was true, but if Castiel never wanted it, that was alright with him. Castiel frowned and confessed, "But I don't know how to make myself want it, Dean."

"Cas, no." Dean resisted the urge to groan. "It's okay. You don't have to try-- Jesus Christ, Cas, it's okay." He stopped and sighed and tried to find his patience. "Look, I can take the rejection. I still want to be friends, it's just fine that way, and the fact that it won't go any further than that isn't important, alright? What's important is that you get it through that feathered brain of yours that you're important. To me."

"You told me once that you don't confuse those who are important to you with those who you wish to have sex with," Castiel pointed out, eyes narrowed slightly.

Dean remembered, and sorely regretted saying that. "Is that what you've been hung up on?" He sighed again and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I... This doesn't usually happen to me, Cas. Usually I can avoid it, but you're... an exception. I couldn't help it." And that was so true it hurt. "But, like I said, I'm okay with you not wanting it, and I'm not gonna try anything again."

Still, Castiel didn't look like he believed him. Dean was quickly running out of things to say, and he didn't know what he'd do if he couldn't convince him. He needed to, so badly, but it was just out of reach, like Dean couldn't jump quite that high, and now he gave Castiel a desperate look and asked, "Aren't you supposed to be able to look at me and just know what I feel? Come on, Cas, that's exactly what you did the first time we met, remember? The first time I remember meeting you, anyway, back in that barn. Why can't you do that now?"

Castiel narrowed his eyes again and pursed his lips and looked away. "I can't see so clearly anymore," he confessed.

And Dean wasn't sure what that meant, if it was literal or not, but he pleaded softly, "Then just trust me, Cas."

"Dean," he whispered, also pleadingly, and he shook his head helplessly as he looked at Dean. Then he closed his eyes, brow furrowed like he was in pain, and Dean forgot to breathe. He once would have automatically assumed this was Castiel's refusal, but it was too much like the way Castiel had looked when Dean had told him stopping the apocalypse was worth dying for, so Dean couldn't help but hope--

And then Castiel's face smoothed out and his whole body relaxed, and Dean knew with a thrill that he'd won. "Cas," he breathed, heart somewhere in his throat, and took an involuntary step toward him.

He stopped when Castiel opened his eyes and asked, so, so softly, "What do you want, Dean?"

"I just want to go back to the way things were before," he said. "For us to be okay again."

Castiel watched him openly for a moment, and then he let his gaze fall to the side and disappeared with a rustle. This time, though, Dean wasn't worried. He knew with a certainty that made him smile that his angel would be back when he was ready, and that he would get his second chance. For that, Dean was willing to wait a long time.

Meanwhile, he gathered Castiel's suit jacket and trench coat off the floor and laid them out on his bed.

***

Castiel didn't make him wait that long. Dean had decided to take a drive through the city -- Denver was quite pretty at night -- and Castiel appeared quietly in the passenger seat half an hour in, trench coat and all.

Dean glanced sideways at him and smiled, feeling warmed through and through and strangely peaceful. "Hey, Cas."

"Where are you going?" Castiel asked curiously.

Dean shrugged. "Where do you want to go?"

Castiel seemed to think about this for a moment, but then he replied, "Anywhere."

Dean smiled again and kept on driving.

Castiel didn't say much while they drove, but Dean filled the silence by pointing out anything and everything that reminded him of something. He nodded at a Chipotle and told Castiel about the time he'd introduced Sam to their steak and bean burritos and then had to take a lady friend of his to the bathroom and lock them both up in there, where they could turn on the exhaust fan and avoid the rest of the motel room, which had reeked. (He didn't tell Castiel about the things he and his lady friend had gotten up to in the bathroom.) When they passed a strip mall, Dean told Castiel about losing Sam in one once, and panicking for twenty minutes until he'd finally found the kid in a bookstore near where he'd lost him, moving furniture from the kids' section about and trying to climb on top of them to reach a book he'd wanted. (Dean had still been taller than him at that point and had grabbed the book for him, and Sam had looked up at him like he was a hero.) There was a neon sign of a deer head above some bar, and Dean talked about his father taking them up to the mountains for target practice, but of course Sam had stubbornly refused to shoot any deer. (He hadn't cited any Disney movies, but Dean had known the reason anyway.) On and on he went, and through it all Castiel listened intently, frowning or smiling at all the right places, and Dean even managed to make him huff in amusement a couple of times, though he'd tried to hide it.

Then Dean drove them a little ways up into the mountains, and parked the car at a scenic spot overlooking the city. "Alright, Cas," he said as he cut the engine. "You've gotta be tired of listening to my voice by now. It's your turn to talk."

Castiel didn't look like he was tired of listening to Dean's voice at all, but he asked anyway, "What would you like me to talk about?"

Even though Dean was loathe to ruin the easy, companionable atmosphere between them, especially now that they'd finally gotten it back, he couldn't just let this slide. "Well, for starters, you can tell me why you were so willing to just go along with it when you thought all I wanted from you was sex," he said evenly.

Castiel tensed and looked away, out the window and down at the city lights below, but he didn't disappear. "I already told you," he said quietly, after a minute. "I'm too weak to let you go. You seemed unhappy whenever I was around, so I thought you might drive me away unless I gave you what you wanted."

That was far more power than Dean had ever wanted over anyone, and so wrong he couldn't even begin to articulate it. Instead of trying to, he asked, "And Jimmy let you believe that?"

"Jimmy has not been conscious since the kiss."

"Since the--" Dean swallowed and said, "You told me he was asleep."

"He was," Castiel replied, and hesitated. "But then you startled me, and I accidentally let him wake up." Dean groaned, and Castiel added reassuringly, "I don't think he was upset, only surprised."

"Still," Dean said, and then something kind of awful occurred to him. "You were going to let me have my way with you with Jimmy still in there? Even if he never found out about it, man, that's still wrong."

Castiel shifted uncomfortably and repeated, "I thought you might drive me away," like that was more important to him than his own morals. Dean didn't want to think about that.

"And I told you I wasn't going to let you go anywhere," he reminded him. Castiel sighed, and he added, "Cas, I'm serious."

That made Castiel look at him, at least. "Dean, I know you're a good man, but--"

"This has nothing to do with me being a good man!" Dean snapped. "I'm not keeping you around out of some sense of moral obligation, Cas, I like you, how can you still not believe me?"

"Because I don't understand what there is to like," Castiel replied, just as heatedly, and then seemed to check himself, because he looked away again.

Dean rolled his eyes. "If you think I'm gonna start composing odes about you and how wonderful you are, you can damn well think again." Despite himself, Castiel's lips quirked a little. Dean gave in and said, "I like everything, okay? I even like the stupid, deadpan way you talk." Castiel turned to watch him guilelessly, and Dean shrugged in embarrassment. "For someone who doesn't talk or smile much, you're pretty fun to hang out with."

Castiel seemed to contemplate this for a moment, but then he said, "I am not always... fun, as you say."

"Yeah, well, we all got our problems," Dean replied, leaning back in his seat and staring up at the Impala's ceiling. When Castiel didn't say anything, he asked, "You ever gonna talk about what happened?"

"What happened?" Castiel repeated uncertainly.

Dean snorted faintly. "Yeah, Cas, all that shit that happened to you. I didn't wanna ask before because I figured if you wanted to deal with it on your own, then I'd leave you to it, but you obviously haven't been dealing with it so well on your own, so talk."

"But it's--"

"Not a sign of weakness," Dean said firmly, and glanced over to see if he'd guessed right. From the way Castiel closed his mouth and looked away, he probably had.

After awhile, Castiel asked quietly, "Can't you guess what happened?" And though there was no hint of an accusation in his tone, Dean winced guiltily. He hadn't forgotten that the demon who had done all of those things to Castiel had only been passing on his own lessons. Castiel seemed to sense his guilt and hurried to say, "Dean, I didn't mean to imply--"

"I know," Dean told him heavily. "I know, Cas. But it doesn't make it any less true."

"God doesn't blame you for breaking," Castiel insisted, and when Dean snorted, he added softly, "And nor do I."

"Then why blame yourself for breaking?" he asked. "You didn't even hurt anyone."

"I am an angel," Castiel said tiredly. "Or at least, I was. But the things I did... I begged them. I was an angel and I pleaded to demons and let them use me for fear of pain." He narrowed his eyes and continued, "They set traps for you, Dean. And I would pray that you wouldn't come, but then, when it became too much, I would pray that you would come." Castiel looked down in shame and said quietly, "I would have willingly seen you walk into a trap if it had meant even the slightest chance of putting an end to my pain."

Dean bit his lip and wanted to do something, apologize for not coming for him, reach out and touch him, anything that wasn't just sitting silently and aching, but Castiel wasn't done. "After that, I lost my faith," he said, barely above a shaky whisper now. "I lost my faith in you because I thought you would never come and if God was punishing me for helping you, then surely you couldn't be His chosen one. And then I became so angry at Him. Can you imagine, Dean? An angel, faithless and angry at God." Castiel shivered a little in disgust and finished in a small voice, "I can never undo that. It doesn't matter that I have my faith back now, or my love for my Father. I disgraced Him utterly."

"Bullshit," Dean said. "You know who disgraced your God, if there even is a God up there? Zachariah and the rest of the fuckers who decided it would be a good idea to let the apocalypse happen. Those so-called brothers and sisters of yours who watched you suffer and didn't raise a damn finger to help. They're the fucking disgraces, Cas, not you. You tried your best, and any God who isn't a complete asshole will see that." He drew in a breath. "Honestly, if I'm His chosen one like you seem so convinced again that I am, then you're the only angel who hasn't disgraced Him."

Castiel frowned intently, but Dean could tell he was seeing some sense in what he'd said. Still, Castiel protested uncertainly, "Now that Lucifer has risen, though, they do want to help you defeat him, and I am hindering that."

"You really believe that?" Dean asked, eyebrows arched. "You would leave me with them and trust them to help me, after everything they've done?"

"No," Castiel admitted, eyes narrowing and sounding fiercely protective in a way that made Dean smile a bit, but then he asked, "but what if I'm wrong?"

"Then we'll deal with it together," Dean shrugged. "But you just said you had your faith back, Cas. Isn't this the sort of thing you're supposed to have faith in?"

"I do have faith, in you," Castiel said earnestly, and despite everything, Dean still had to resist an urge to tell him his faith was misplaced. He didn't think it would change Castiel's mind, but mostly, Dean was beginning to understand just how important faith was to an angel. Castiel needed to have that faith in someone, so until Dean finally let the world down or Castiel found someone else to have faith in, whichever came first, Dean was alright with filling in that role for him. Castiel seemed to sense his doubts anyway, because he said, "I know you lack faith in yourself, but for what it's worth, Dean, you always answer my prayers even if you can't hear them."

Dean cleared his throat and declared, "Way too soppy, man." Castiel smiled a little, even though it was still tentative and shaky, and Dean had to turn his head to hide his own smile. Soppy as it was, it was damned good to know he was doing right by Castiel after all. He turned back and said, "Bottom line is, if you've got faith in me and I think you're awesome, which I do, then I don't see what your problem with yourself is."

"You think I'm awesome?" Castiel asked, and the word sounded so strange, coming from him, like he was trying too hard to say it right.

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, Cas, you're pretty awesome."

Castiel seemed kind of shyly pleased about this, and even relaxed back into his seat. Dean just hoped he'd actually believe him this time. "I think you're awesome too," Castiel said seriously.

There was a pause, and then, "Remember what I said about that stupid, deadpan way you talk?"

"Yes."

Dean smirked and said, "Keep it up." And then he started the engine, because it was getting late and Sam was probably thinking fussy Sam thoughts.

Part 11