Title: Emotionality Is Not a Real Word
Author: briecheesie
Rating: PG-13
Genre and/or Pairing: Dean/Castiel, Sam
Spoilers: Up to 6x07 (Goes AR after), future character spoiler by name only (highlight: Apparently in 6x17, we get introduced to one of Cas' lieutenants, a female angel named Rachel. I needed a lieutenant for Cas, so I took her and ran. )
Warnings: Blatant disregard for how military ranking systems work.
Word Count: 6,767
Summary: Wherein Cas loses his humanity to level the playing field with Raphael, Sammy gets his groove back, and Dean is too busy being an emo bitch to help launch 'Operation Save Castiel's Humanity!'



The attack comes abruptly, before Dean can even register that he's not alone in the motel room anymore.

He's innocently watching TV, waiting for Soulless Sam to come back with some pizzas, when suddenly he's thrown into the wall - the simultaneous blinding pain and crack informing him that his spine might not have survived the impact.

"The hell?" he chokes, letting out a curse as white blurs his vision when he attempts to move. Yeah, definitely broken.

Having decided against trying to stand (or maybe walk ever again), Dean settles on shooting whatever entity decided to ruin his night his most menacing glare.

Staring back at him is an angry (fucking pissed) woman who Dean can't remember ever sleeping with, so he quickly nixes the idea that she's here for revenge. The fact that the woman punched him into last Tuesday also helps confirm his suspicions that she's here for reasons other than him not calling.

"Worthless heathen," she hisses and, well, Dean's been wrong before. He forces himself to sit up straight, this time managing to grit his teeth through the excruciation of moving. He's sweating slightly by the end of it, but at least he feels less vulnerable.

"Demon?" he pants, thinking it'd be a really good time for Sam to come back now. Her laugh is only slightly chilling.

"Worse," she responds, tone even despite the fire in her eyes. There's no mistaking her sense of dickish superiority.

"Angel," he mutters, finding himself in agreement with her that, yeah, it fucking is worse. And how twisted is it that he'd rather be helpless with a demon leering over him than an angel? Christianity with its singing, joy-bringing angels can go right on ahead and fuck itself.

"Here to kill me?" he grunts, wondering why Raphael would even bother with a small-fry like him. Now that the whole business with him being Micheal's meatsuit is over and done with, he's pretty much just another obnoxious human to Heaven. Hell, he's not even sure Cas would blink if he were gone. The guy's lived for thousands of years - Dean is probably just a speck to him over his lifetime. He's up in Heaven playing Mr. Boss Man and tearing up Raphael's shit and doesn't even care enough to answer Dean's calls. So, yeah, if Raphael thinks he'll get to Cas by hurting Dean, he's pretty shit out of lu-

"I would like nothing more," she says coolly, and Dean's attention snaps back to her. "However, for whatever reason, my General seems to be fond of you and your brother." Her lips curl in disgust. "Especially you."

"Your...general," Dean repeats blankly. She rolls her eyes and Dean detachedly wonders what kind of girl her vessel is. Religious, he figures, if she gave her consent.

"Castiel." Her tone is slow and condescending, but Dean cares too much about the name she just uttered to retaliate.

"Cas is.." He licks his lips, dry from the heavy, pained breaths he's been steadily taking. "Your general?"

The angel's eyes flash dangerously and narrow and Dean wonders what the fuck he said, because he's pretty sure it was a valid question.

"You have no idea do you?" she growls, and Dean is actually afraid that she might smite him right then and there, Cas be damned. "The extent of the war. The extent of his suffering. How the instant he gets a moment's reprieve, he's flying down to Earth to do your bidding and comes back wearier than when he left, only to jump right back into battle. He has yet to grieve any of our fallen brothers because he can't spare any of himself to do so. As great as he is, as powerful as he is, he can only be so much. And what he chooses to be is an angel who puts an insignificant human's needs before his own."

What comes out of Dean's mouth next is idiotic - even he knows that - but his defenses started springing up the second this bitch started making it personal and he's not sure he has any control over it.

"Cas's picked Heaven over me time and time again. Give me a freaking break; angels don't have needs."

Dean knows it's not his imagination when the room suddenly grows cold.

He didn't know angels could do that.

"Castiel treating the war in Heaven with the utmost importance is nether here nor there," she says quietly, the room beginning to thrum with energy. "It is something he must do for the greater good. However..." Ethereal is the only way Dean can describe the sudden change in her voice. It makes his ears hurt and ring and the TV turn to white noise. "Do not forget, Dean Winchester, that he once forsake Heaven entirely for you. And that, because of you, he now feels. It is a trait he has yet to lose. He is more human than all of the angels in Heaven and thus the war takes a toll on him that the rest of us do not experience. You have corrupted him. You have given him the needs you claim we do not have."

It's still too much. Too fucking much for him to handle and Dean's ears feel like they're being pierced and he knows damn well that her grace is slipping on purpose.

"Yeah, well," he shouts, even though he knows the shrill sounds are only in his own ears. "If Cas had any problems, he'd come and talk to me about them. He doesn't need you pleading his case!"

"Would he?" The pain escalates to the point where Dean thinks he might just pass out.

And then it stops.

Gasping, Dean falls over, breath coming in harsh, ragged pants. It's only when he realizes that he's alone again, does he also realize that he's been completely healed.

"Fucking angel ass dick," he wheezes, voice still hoarse.

---

The next time Dean sees Cas, he almost falls out of the diner booth in shock because he definitely didn't call for the featherhead and, for once, Soulless Sam is acting almost like Sammy the Soulful and so Dean is having a pretty good day, considering. But then the unexpected flutter puts him on defense and the body appearing almost on top of him sends him flying.

It occurs to him that, a little over a year ago, he wouldn't have even blinked at Cas randomly popping into his personal bubble. In fact, he'd probably have just slid his plate of fries in front of the angel and continued on his conversation with Sam.

The way Cas is looking at him now, eyes widened just slightly in surprise (as Dean holds on desperately to the edge of the table so that he doesn't make an even bigger ass of himself by landing on the floor), tells Dean that Cas is somewhat mirroring his thoughts. And whatever. Good. It's Cas' own damn fault for abandoning him.

"Cas," Sam says....well, he just says. Emotion is hard to come by these days for Sam, but Dean would like to think the general incredulous atmosphere hasn't left his little brother unaffected.

"Sam," Cas says tightly in greeting, then he fucking swallows and says even tighter, "Dean."

Before righteous indignation can shoot out a refusal to whatever the hell Cas has the freaking audacity to ask for, Cas is apologizing. Which surprises Dean almost as much as Cas' arrival did, but he's not about to turn away a chance to hear that he was right about something, so he shuts his mouth and lets Cas say his piece.

"Apparently one of my more...." Cas pauses, face scrunching slightly as he tries to think of the right word to use. It's a decidedly human trait that looks totally at odds with what Dean thinks an angel general should look like. And as soon as the thought occurs to him, Dean knows where Cas is going with this. "Impetuous," Cas finally decides on, gaze settling fully on Dean, "lieutenants decided to pay you a visit."

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean can see Sam turn sharply to look at him, and whatever. Sam didn't tell Dean that he wasn't sleeping ever, so Dean's allowed to not tell Sam about a hot angel chick threatening to end him on Cas' behalf. What's fair is fair.

"Yeah," Dean says, coughing awkwardly as his mind replays the loud crack of breaking bone. "She was a lotta fun."

Cas narrows his eyes in a way that tells Dean that he didn't appreciate the attempt at humor and Dean realizes that it also kind of tells him that Cas still understands mortal humor. Not like when Cas would take every sarcastic comment literally and respond in kind with that damned head tilt of his.

"-know that-" Dean shakes his head and brings his attention back to Cas when he realizes the angel is talking again, "-she was not granted permission to come to Earth, nor to interact with humans. She-"

"Wait," Sam interrupts, straightening up in his seat. "You guys need permission now?"

It's Cas' turn to appear incredulous and, damn it, did that bitch whammy Dean or something? Why is he so much more in tune with Cas' human attributes today?

"The last time my brothers infiltrated your world, they nearly ended it," Cas says simply. And Sam just nods because, really, you can't argue with that. "She was not given the requested permissions and, while I have no idea what she did or said, Dean," Cas is looking at him again, expression once again unreadable and angel-like and Dean hates it and likes it better at the same time, "Don't take it to heart. Whatever she filled your mind with, she was speaking out of turn and has been disciplined for it."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Dean hisses, hands rising to emphasize exactly how much Cas needs to hold the fuck up. "Disciplined? The hell, Cas?"

"Dean. She defied orders-"

"Like that time we got stuck with that poor sonovabitch Jimmy 'cause your ass was too busy getting 'diciplined'?"

The visible twitch tells Dean that he's either just severely offended Cas or hit it right on the mark and he decides to go with the latter because, well, it's just the most appropriate for his rage.

"Bein' up there's got you twisted, man," he spits, "Making you no better than Raphael."

Dean doesn't even get a reaction out of Cas, because very suddenly Cas is gone and Dean is finishing his thought to empty air. He rolls his eyes and turns to Sam, who is looking at Dean very seriously.

"What?" Dean snaps.

Sam shrugs and shakes his head.

"Harsh," he drawls and what the fuck, Sam doesn't even have a soul so how the hell can he judge?

Dean retaliates by pegging Sam with a fry.

-----

Dean doesn't call for Cas after that and Cas doesn't come asking for help. Dean thinks he should be relieved, but it just ends up pissing him off more. He proved Cas dead wrong, showed him what's what. Cas should have seen the metaphorical light and everything should have gone back to the way it was pre-averted apocalypse.

But when Dean finally does see Cas again, that goddamned little voice in his head (the one that sounds just like a twelve year old Sammy lecturing him about safe sex) sends the "be careful what you wish for" cliche hurtling at him at full speed.

"Dean."

They're in the foyer of Balthazar's mansion, getting info on what they think might be some pain in the ass angel weapon making people explode (and it's Balthazar as a last resort because Dean's still too stubborn to call Cas), when the air displaces beside Balthazar and suddenly Cas is there.

And it's wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. The tone is wrong, the stance is wrong, the eyes are wrong. It's all wrong. He can tell Sam doesn't have a goddamn clue, but Sam doesn't know. Wasn't there to see Cas light up that barn.

"Damn it, Cas. What the hell?" Dean hisses, because as wrong as it is, he's damn sure it really is the angel. Especially with Balthazar not smiting the potential impostor down. Or looking even a little bit surprised.

Dean's even more sure when those blue eyes, looking so goddamn alien, regard him with obvious detachment.

"You see, boy," Balthazar says, dropping a hand on Cas' shoulder as he leers at Dean. "Cas came to me a few weeks ago, quite torn up. Quite torn up."

"Our hearts are breaking," Sammy drawls and Dean wants to punch him in the face. The only thing stopping him is that he knows that Sam just doesn't see it.

Also the whole lack-of-a-soul thing is a pretty damn good excuse for insensitivity.

"Well, now see!" Balthazar laughs, leaning against Cas, who just continues to stare at Dean without any visible emotion. "That's the problem! Like that terrible movie you apes consider a 'classic', you are the wizards that gave this poor tin man a heart." For emphasis, Balthazar pats Cas on the chest and Dean's mind flashes back to the words of Cas' lieutenant.

"And well, that's no way to win a war now, is it?" Balthazar continues, growing more animated and dramatic as the story goes on. "It's a nearly futile battle as it is, but with the burden of human emotions - knowing guilt, hope, sorrow, fear - it becomes impossible. He hesitated. Questioned himself, the poor bastard."

Cas looks to Balthazar at the insult, but his expression remains the same. Dean wishes so damn hard that Cas was making that bitchface that Dean used to say could rival Sammy's. Or at least fucking frowning.

"Once I realized that Raphael would never leave me be now that he knows I'm alive, I decided to reach out to Castiel and offer the assistance he had once begged for." Balthazar pauses, then laughs as if he's reliving a fond memory. "And he was so magnificently human when he came to me that night. So emotionally drain-"

"This story got a point?" Dean grounds out, taking a step forward. Balthazar looks unimpressed and he rolls his eyes, muttering something about mortal impatience.

"We restarted our camaraderie," Balthazar's drawls, now sounding bored - as if Dean had ruined his fun. "You see, I seem to be the only one he believes he can confide in these days-" Dean tries to ignore the guilt sucker punching him in the gut "-and when he shared with me his problems, I offered to relieve him of his suffering. Take away his weakness."

Dean starts feeling sick when the implication hits him. That bastard.

"I mean, I much prefer this Castiel to your new version anyway. Call me sentimental, but it just brings me back to the good old days, really."

"You took away his humanity," Dean growls, fists clenching at his sides. "You son of a-"

"Dean," Cas says flatly, head cocked and staring at Dean as if Dean's anger is strange to him. He has a brand spanking new air of superiority to him - the same I pulled you out of Hell and I can throw you back in, that is how insignificant you are vibe that Dean had gleefully deprived him of once before. Dean grits his teeth. "It was my own choice."

"Yeah?" Dean snarls, voice saturated with barely concealed rage. "And how's that been working out for ya?"

"It has been beneficial." The monotony in Cas'- no, Castiel's voice (this dick ain't his Cas, no damn way) - makes it lighter somehow. "My mind is no longer clouded with human intent."

"And you thought I was bad," Sam snorts. Dean turns to look at him, wild-eyed.

"Dude, will you shut the fuck up?"

A loud, long and suffering sigh comes from Balthazar as he begins to clap to gather the room's attention back to himself.

"As scintillating as this reunion has been," he says as he glances at Sam and Dean mildly, "My dear Castiel popped in for a reason and I do prefer his company wholly to yours. So if you'll be on your way."

"But what about-" Dean holds a hand up to cut off Sam, narrowing his eyes at the scene of the two angels before him. Balthazar is pointedly looking at his watch and Castiel's still staring at Dean, still nothing more than a goddamn ethereal shell of his friend.

"We'll get the info we need on our own, Sammy," Dean grunts, shaking his head in disgust. "I don't want anything to do with this dickhead from here on out."

Sam looks like he wants to protest, but stops himself at the last minute, shoulders falling in resignation. Dean feels a tiny shred of relief; Soulless Sam isn't all bad, he's learned.

"Time to leave then," Balthazar says cheerfully, suddenly inches from the men. They jump and he presses two fingers from each hand lightly on their arms.

And then they're back at the Impala.


-----

Dean hears about the civil war ending from some random Hunter girl he fucks in a bar. She's cute and lively, and from what Dean can tell she can hold her own, but he's not interested until she mentions that she heard the war in Heaven was over. Had been over for quite some time and that peace now reigned with rainbows and unicorns and holy fucking sunshine up there.

Dean hasn't seen or heard from Castiel since that night at Balthazar's.

He fucks that girl good and hard by the men's room.

------

It's three in the afternoon on a weekday when Castiel arrives on Bobby's doorstep, Sam's soul in hand. He's still not Cas, still carries himself like he's all celestial intent, but Dean's got bigger things to worry about.

Like Sammy's soul. Apparently after taking his rightful place as King of The Pride Lands, Castiel was able to coerce some of his minions to help tear Sam's soul out of hell, healing the spirit in the process.

"That's what you've been ignoring me for?" Dean says gruffly, but he can't stop grinning because it's Sammy's freaking soul. It doesn't even bother him that Castiel stares at him in blank confusion.

"I've been under the impression that in order to ignore someone, someone has to try to contact you first."

Semantics.

-------

It figures that the first thing that Sammy the Soulful would do is launch into a monologue just waiting to be written into a melodramatic chick flick. Dean's too busy wondering if it's too late to return Sam's soul back to Hell to listen much, but he catches the general idea.

You gave Cas his humanity the first time, you can do it again the second time.

Dean wants to argue that the "first time", Cas was stuck with him for better or for worse, whereas now he can't even think of a reason to see Cas. There's no war or impending war, Sam's got his soul back, and Cas is now Castiel and wouldn't know how to be sentimental if it hit him on the damn head, so there goes visits "just for old times' sake".

He opens his mouth to relay these thoughts, when Sam's smirk catches him off guard.

"The hell did you do?" Dean asks, brow raised high. Sam gives a falsely innocent shrug.

"I just thought that Cas should maybe keep an eye on me for a while in case the soul thing didn't work as planned," he says smoothly. "Cas agreed."

"He agreed," Dean repeats slowly, raising an eyebrow. "So, what? He's gonna pop in from time to time, make sure you didn't go sociopath on me and then pop right on out?" Rolling his eyes, Dean drops down onto Bobby's guest room bed. "That's real helpful, Sam. Thanks."

"No," Sam retorts and it's fairly condescending, but Dean's already given Sam a Free Bitch Pass for the next three years, he's just so damn happy Sam's got his soul back. "I convinced him that I might need constant supervision. You know, because you and Bobby aren't in tune enough with celestial wavelengths to notice any warning signs or nuances of a descent into Hell-worthy madness."

"Sam, if you start coming after me with an axe screaming 'Here's Sammy!', I'm pretty sure I'd catch on to the warning signs."

Sam makes one of his bitch faces that Dean has missed so fucking much, the first one he ever learned to make at the tender age of four that says, 'Dean, you're not as cute as you think you are.'

"Do you want to get Cas' humanity back or not?" he snaps. There's slack to be given - a lot of slack to be given - because Dean doesn't think he'll ever be able to refuse Sam again. Still, Dean's hesitant about this whole idea.

"What makes you think it even works that way?" he asks, trying not to direct his frustration at Sam. "How do we even know that when Assdick took away Cas' humanity, it wasn't like taking away his grace, you know? Like a big glowing ball of human that's kept in some box and now Cas is incapable of being anything other than a dick angel robot for all eternity?" The thoughts are occurring to him as he's speaking them and as he hears them out loud, his voice raises a pitch. He opens his mouth to keep the optimism going, when suddenly Sam is smacking him across the face with a pillow.

"Dude, what the hell!" he gasps, falling back in surprise. Sam drops the pillow somewhere behind Dean and rolls his eyes.

"And what if that is the case, Dean?" he says, sounding like he's trying to be patient. "Then we just go in there and get it back."

The certainty in Sam's tone is almost enough to get Dean on board.

"It's not that easy, Sam."

"Really?" Sam has the balls to laugh. "Because I'm pretty sure it'd be lot easier than averting an apocalypse and getting my soul out of Hell."

And Sam has a point, he really does, but Dean still isn't swayed.

"And if that's not the case," Sam continues, tilting his head to look squarely at Dean. "Then it's not like Cas has forgotten us and all we've been through together. He has to at least remember what it was like. All we have to do is bring it out of him."

Again, a point for Sam. Everything sounds so simple when Sam says it, but damn it-

"Look, Cas chose to give up his humanity," Dean snaps, launching off the bed to pace around the room. After doubling the space between the walls, he turns to glare at Sam. "And we all know it's impossible to change his damn mind once he's made a choice. Cas doesn't want his humanity back. Who are we fucking kidding?"

The deep breath Sam takes tells Dean that he's trying really, really fucking hard to not strangle him. Dean appreciates it.

"Listen, Dean," he says lowly, "You can do what you want. Everything that Cas was began and ended with you-" Dean fights a wince "-but whatever. I'm going to try and help him, you can just sit here and mope."

"I don't mope," Dean coughs, slightly offended. "I brood. It's more manly."

"Fine," Sam retorts, getting up from his chair and beginning a trek to the door. "But don't come crying when Cas says our bond is 'more profound' than yours now because you were too scared to help."

Dean has Sam up against the wall before the sudden burst of rage registers. In his mind he sees Cas, his Cas and not the empty shell that is Castiel, giving that warm, almost smile to Sam instead of him. Unable to understand Sam's need for personal space. Watching and studying Sam and occasionally smirking and making dry attempts at humor to tease Sam or make Sam laugh.

Dean realizes it's all just a jealous fantasy when he snaps back to reality and finds Sam staring at him, stunned. He curses and steps away, muttering an apology.

"Dude," Sam wheezes, rubbing his chest where Dean's forearm had been digging in, used to pin him to the wall. "You promised you'd be nice."

"I said I was sorry, alright?" Dean folds his arms together and glances pointedly out the window, ignoring how much he looks like a petulant kid. "I didn't mean it."

"No," Sam argues, sounding tired. As if Dean didn't have enough guilt already on his plate. "You did. And it was for the same reason you don't want to save Cas' humanity."

Gazing at Sam out of the corner of his eye, Dean glowers.

"Oh, really, Sammy?" he snorts, "Got me all figured out? Why don't you enlighten me, huh?"

"It's for the same reason that you, not once, called for Cas after the apocalypse. Not until we ran into The Staff of Moses."

Sam's voice is growing stronger and Dean thinks Sam's getting to deep, too close. His mouth won't move to stop it, though, and he feels grounded in place. He closes his eyes because, goddamn it, Sammy really is going to "enlighten" him and he'd rather be Michael's meatsuit right about now.

"You're scared of Cas' rejection," Sam says simply. He doesn't move as Dean whips around to punch the wall, almost as if he'd been expecting it. Dean thinks Sam knows him well enough that he probably was.

"Shut it, Sam," Dean manages through gritted teeth, forehead resting against the wall. He stares down at the dent he made in the plaster and wonders how pissed Bobby'll be when he finds out. "Cas has made a habit out of rejecting me lately and I'm fine with it."

Sam lets loose a sound of exasperation and when Dean turns to look at him, he half expects to see Sam pulling out his hair.

"Cas was busy, Dean!" Sam groans, running a hand through his girlish mane in lieu of yanking it. "You know that damn well and you're using it as an excuse!"

"Sam," Dean's voice is low and a warning. He's already broke his promise once, he's not above breaking it again to punch the kid in the face.

"Dean," Sam mocks and Dean tries to keep in mind that Sammy just got his soul back and that Dean loves him dearly. It's harder than it should be. "It's an excuse. You're terrified of the thought that when Cas doesn't have a war to tend to or a soul to find or Heaven to whip into shape, that he still won't want to give you the time of day if he doesn't have to!"

"You shut your fucking trap!"

"No! Dean, you're such a-"

Whatever Sam was about to (falsely) accuse Dean of being is lost in the sound of flapping wings. Castiel appears between them, looking evenly from Dean to Sam, face it's usual mask.

"Has there been a problem?" he asks, his gaze finally settling on Sam. Dean knows Castiel is talking about Sam's soul, knows Sam knows damn well that Castiel is talking about his soul, but Sam still looks pointedly at Dean.

"I don't know, Dean," he snaps. "Has there?"

Blue eyes are suddenly on Dean and they're clear, striking and completely inhuman.

Dean doesn't respond, can't respond. He feels himself closing up and later he'll think he's a dick for it, but he throws a sneer at both the sons of bitches and pushes past Castiel on his way out.

---

The only reason Castiel popping in beside him doesn't startle Dean is because he's too focused on trying to drown himself in his fourth bottle of beer. What does startle him is the pleasant buzz that he's been building up suddenly disappearing, replaced by sober clarity.

"Man," he groans, dropping the side of his head on the kitchen table. "What the hell, Cas?"

Castiel peers down at Dean with a confused quirk of his lips and Dean closes his eyes to block out the gaze.

"Sam said I should speak with you." Dean wishes he could block out the voice too.

"Okay," he huffs, picking his head up just enough to change sides, facing away from Castiel as he lowers it again. "You spoke. Good job. Go get a cookie and get the hell out."

There's a moment of silence and if it weren't for the lack of tell-tale whoosh!, Dean would have thought that Castiel had actually taken his advice.

"Dean."

It's a good thing Dean knows better.

"What?" His voice is dangerously close to a whine, Dean knows, and he takes a small bit of solace in the fact that Castiel is currently unable to tease him about it. Not that Castiel would even take the initiative if he were back to being Cas again; it's just that Castiel's current "inability" to make fun of Dean adds that extra pride protection.

"I understand that you're upset with me-"

"You do?" Dean laughs humorlessly, keeping his eyes shut. "Tell me something: Do you even know what 'upset' feels like anymore?" He imagines the hurt expression he wants to see on Castiel's face and it makes him feel a little better.

"Dean-"

"No, Cas," Dean mumbles, opening his eyes but keeping his gaze on the wood of the table beneath his head. "Castiel," he corrects. "Just..."

Dean hears the wings and then Castiel's gone and Dean's still too sober.

----

After that, Dean keeps walking in on Sam's miserable attempts to put Operation Save Castiel's Humanity! into action (Dean's surprised that he hasn't tripped over a strategy board covered in glitter and pink stars at this point). Like Dean knew it wouldn't, it doesn't work and the most Sam ever gets Castiel to do is express some kind of sentiment (which, after a long debate decided by Dean body slamming an unprepared Sammy, both brothers agree doesn't really count as an emotion. Besides, even Sam could express sentiments when he didn't have a soul). Dean sees visible concern on Castiel's face (but not worry) when he wanders in on Sam shoving burgers down his throat and sitting almost in Castiel's lap while doing it, appreciation (but not excitement) when he stumbles in on Sam and Castiel having an in depth discussion on early religious scholars, and sympathy (but not sadness) when he barges in on Castiel and that stupid sobbing mess he refuses to acknowledge as his brother watching Old Yeller.

Sam's given up for the day, is probably up in the guest room writing in his fuzzy purple diary about how much he hates angels, and it leaves Dean sitting beside Castiel as he changes the channel from Old Yeller's ending credits to something that won't remind him how embarrassing Samantha can be. Dean doesn't bother asking Castiel what he wants to watch - he figures the angel will leave soon enough - and Castiel doesn't object to the station Dean lands on.

He also doesn't leave.

"So, uh..." Dean tries after a few minutes, wondering when the hell silences between him and Castiel had gotten so damn uncomfortable that he had to forfeit to small talk. "It okay for you to be down here so often?"

It takes a moment, but Castiel brings his gaze away from the TV to focus on Dean, confused.

"What do you mean?"

Looking away, Dean shrugs, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly.

"I dunno, just...y'know." And no, Castiel obviously doesn't, so Dean sighs heavily and continues, "No one's gonna miss the Head Honcho up there while you're stuck babysitting a human down here?"

While Cas might have gotten offended, Castiel looks almost...fucking amused that Dean, the insignificant little human that he is, has the audacity to question his Heaven Management Skills.

"Rachel governs for me in my absence."

"Rachel," Dean echoes, holding on to that name, focusing on that name so he doesn't follow through with his urge punch Castiel in the face (the fact that he knows how futile the effort would be also helps reign him in). "Okay."

"My lieutenant," Castiel explains, "You recall her?" It's not actually a question and Dean feels a fresh wave of anger wash over him for entirely different reasons.

"The one you 'disciplined?'" he sneers. Castiel's face is as patronizing as they get and Dean really might just give the angel a taste of his right hook just on principle.

"Your anger is unwarranted, Dean," Castiel says smoothly, like the sky is clearly blue but everyone thinks it's green. "You're assuming she was harmed unjustly, when her punishment was merely that she was temporarily removed from the front lines and sent to work in support."

As soon as the words register, Dean's mind flashes to the violent verbal diahrrea he'd thrown at Cas in the diner all those months ago.

"Bein' up there's got you twisted, man. Making you no better than Raphael."

It doesn't escape Dean that that bit of love was the last thing he'd said to Cas before Cas had decided to go all Bionic Angel on them.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he hisses, turning to face Castiel fully. All smug angel superiority is gone from Castiel's expression, and Dean thinks he should be relieved. Instead, he's unnerved. Because replacing that condescension is the same look of puzzled intrigue that Dean remembers facing in the barn during their first meeting. To Dean, it's the most inhuman expression he's seen on Castiel's face yet.

"Would you have listened, Dean?" The way Castiel says his name, Dean feels the added "Winchester" that is heavily implied - like Dean was just asked the million dollar question in front of a live studio audience and everyone is staring at him with bated breath even though they all know the damn answer.

"Oh and since when do you give a shit about what I think?" he sneers, leaping from the couch, hands fisted into balls. Castiel's face gives the impression of regret (another damn sentiment).

"Therein laid the problem, Dean."

The words are quiet and all at once, Dean feels the wind suck out of him. He's sure he heard right, is so damn positive he heard right, but he still stammers out a "What?" like an idiot.

Like the kind of idiot that breaks angels to the point that they need Heavenly lobotomies to win celestial wars.

"Dean-"

As Castiel pushes off from the couch as well, Dean jumps back and stares hard at the ground because this is just too fucking close to what he's been trying so hard not to admit. And even as he thinks it, the words just fall from his mouth like the way Cas did from Heaven.

"I did this," he breathes, eyes snapping back up to Castiel. Castiel's returning the gaze through bright, so fucking bright, blue eyes but there's nothing there that makes Dean think he that he's looking at anything remotely human. He laughs, bitter and full of self-loathing. "Ain't that always the way."

Castiel steps forward and this time Dean remains planted to the ground where he is. No use trying to run anymore, it's already caught up to him.

"Dean." Castiel's voice is insistent and Dean just gives another broken laugh.

"So, what?" Dean spits, arms folding across his chest. Protecting himself. "What, I was a dick to you, yeah, but what? You turned into a thirteen year old girl? Couldn't handle it?"

He knows he's being an even bigger dick now, that he's lashing out on purpose, and he's not even sure of the fucking point because Castiel can't even feel the sharp, raging digs. If anything, he's probably full of stupid angelic pity, the bastard.

"It's not like that, Dean."

"Yeah?" Dean growls, taking a large step forward, right into the personal space that Castiel doesn't understand. "You wanna tell me what it's like then?"

Castiel's eyes cross slightly from how close Dean is, but outside of that he doesn't make another move and Dean doesn't really expect him to.

"You-" Castiel tries, and Dean steps away to snort darkly.

"That's right, 'me'," he taunts, rolling his eyes so dramatically that he's sure Sam would be proud. "Go on, Cas. Try to tell me how I didn't cause this. How it isn't my fault you're like this?"

Turning to face the TV, focusing on the little purple roadrunner racing vertically down a cliff, Dean waits. Castiel doesn't say anything, doesn't even attempt to make weak evasive statements like Cas would have and something snaps in Dean. It's the same kind of emptiness he felt when he realized he might never wake up and see anyone but fucking Soulless Sam walking next to him ever again.

"What the hell?" he mumbles, quietly and to himself, going through the similar process of recalling all of those stupid, nerdy, obnoxious nuances Cas had that he'll probably never get another chance to see. That he probably never should have had a chance to see in the first place.

Dean chuckles, because as sad as it is, it's pretty damn funny. He made Cas fall, he gave Cas humanity, and then he forced Cas to give it up. It's like he rehymenated the bastard in return. So, really, Dean has righted his initial wrong. Why does he feel like such shit about it?

"This is what you wanted, right?" he asks, clearing his throat and moving to look over his shoulder. Halfway through, he aborts the movement, too chickenshit to witness the pity he knows is on Castiel's face. "Now you don't gotta worry about 'the luxuries' of caring and shit."

Castiel remains silent behind him, so Dean continues, not really sure about any of the words coming out - just that they won't stop.

"So now you get to be that 'hammer' you always wanted to be, without any stupid human shit in your way. And, you know, I get it, dude. I really do. I ge-"

Before Dean can finish the word, Dean's back is slamming against the wall and jesus fucking christ OW. The angry curse dies on his lips when he looks up and meets Castiel's eyes.

Castiel's pissed. And it's not just righteous fury, the angel is pissed. Dean thinks that should probably warm him a lot less and terrify him a lot more than it currently does, but, Christ, Castiel is pissed.

"You are insufferable, Dean Winchester," Castiel hisses, dark and low, eyes narrowing to slits. "You 'get' nothing."

Dean nods quickly like he understands, but he has no idea and he's pretty damn sure Cas knows that.

"Raphael was cruel and callous and had me at a disadvantage. He was willing to do things I would not resort to because of my humanity." Dean's sure it's not just his imagination that makes him feel like he's being pressed harder into the wall. "It is true that my feelings toward you-" And wow, that's something Dean really doesn't want to think about with Castiel pressed right up against him "-and your behavior in turn greatly affected my mental state, but, as a whole, that contributed very little to my decision."

Dean tries to nod again, but he's too caught by the fact that Castiel's eyes are at least a few shades darker than they've been in months, since this whole shitfest started. They're clouded and he can't see through them like they're pieces of lifeless blue glass.

"Do you understand, Dean?"

And Dean can't help it.

He laughs.

It's nothing like the empty noises he was making before. It's full on, breath catching laughter because this is Dean Winchester's life and it's absurd and so fucking ridiculous. Castiel releases him as if he's diseased, and maybe he is, and when he looks back at the angel, Castiel has returned to the emotionless soldier he's been, merely staring at Dean like his actions are strange. And they are, and it's inappropriate as hell because seconds ago he was extremely close to very unmanly tears, but whatever.

The blue eyes are crystal clear, transparent and bright again and Dean can't find it in himself to give a flying fuck. Because for one moment, for a tiny moment in time, Dean had Cas again and he now knows Cas is in that vessel somewhere and he'll get Cas back like he got Sam back.

And for now, that's enough for Dean.

~fin.