"No," Castiel sighs, taking the bag from the waitress and following Dean out of the diner. He doesn't elaborate further, knowing that Dean would just deny it out of a sense of shame or some other weirdo human emotion that gets in the way of accepting compliments. Or more of that self-loathing. Cas despises that most of all.

Castiel wordlessly removes his boots and lays down on the bed. When he stretches, his joints pop. He wonders if Dean thinks that Cas will regain his Grace over time, and decides that if Dean's going to throw his chips in with Castiel he might as well know what he's getting into. "Dean. You know that I won't be regaining my angelic power, don't you?"