inonebasket | (no subject)

"Okay. Yeah." Dean rests his forehead on the steering wheel for a moment before sitting up straight and getting the car moving again. "You're an idiot, just so you know. And I'm not sayin' that lightly, you out-idiot all the idiots, and coming from me, that's pretty impressive. And I dunno if I can trust you like I used to, but I am not leaving you, Cas. I'm just not."

Or he's not letting Castiel get away this time is what he means. It just came out a little bit sideways.

Castiel looks up toward the roof of the car, up toward the heavens in a gesture carried over from his time as one of the Holy Host. Searching for a Father who cared, brothers and sisters who listened, a plan that would work, that would save the world and the Winchesters in it.

Thou shalt have no other gods before me.

Castiel had already broken other commandments. What's one more?

"I will do whatever you ask of me, Dean." And ask nothing in return. True devotion is the only thing left that Castiel still understands without a single hiccup, and if Dean doesn't want him to go, doesn't want to leave, then Castiel will devote himself fully.

"Look, Cas, all I'm asking is that next time you need help, you tell me. And no more of this sorry, Dean, can't tell you what's goin' on in my head because it's classified Heaven business, okay?"

Dean wants to trust Castiel again, really wants to reach out and drag him back into the little circle of Dean-Sammy-Bobby-Cas-family he belongs to. It's just going to take him some time to really believe the words that fall out of Castiel's mouth.

"Your, uh, your coat's in the back. If you want it." The damn trench coat Dean's been carrying around for months because he couldn't make himself give up or throw out the only piece of Cas still on this earth.

Oh. That's right, he'd woken up without it. So Dean had found it and actually kept it.

"...thank you."

Suddenly, as if a switch had been thrown, Castiel wants to tell Dean everything. About returning to heaven expecting a reform, a revolution or at the very least open minds and encountering nothing but angels lost without a God to lead them, and after that, pain and fear and war. He wanted to tell Dean about watching him rake leaves, about being torn between asking for help and leaving Dean to the peace he'd found. He wanted to talk about how he'd planned to double-cross Crowley from day one, about how he tried to monitor what Crowley did so there would be as little backlash as possible.

He wanted to talk about how, after he was caught, it didn't matter how far he'd fallen from Dean's favor because nothing could compare to how much he hated himself.

An absent Father. The weight of Heaven and Earth on the shoulders of a rebellious foot soldier. The desperate balance between remaining the human he'd become with the Winchesters and becoming the general he had to be to save everything from Raphael. Through it all he only told Dean snippets, to protect him and Sam and then later, to protect himself.

Then the rush of godhood, the swell of power that bowled him off his feet and left him screaming in the waves, clinging to himself long enough to surface and put the souls back. And-

"I could use some help killing the Leviathan."

Oblivious as he is to all the thoughts swirling in Castiel's head, Dean just snorts.

"No kidding. If you've got any ideas on whacking those things, I'll hear it. So far, slowing 'em down is the best we've got. You've been at them for a couple months, right? Found anything better?"

It's easier talking about a case than about people. Dean actually almost relaxes.

"No." Castiel sighs as if he's relieved they've moved on to more neutral conversational ground, too. "They were created and confined before my time; all methods available to me have failed. I doubt even an angel could kill them. The angel sword doesn't seem to work, at any rate."

"Maybe that's just because you didn't have your mojo?" He takes a hand off the wheel, wiggling fingers for effect. "Bobby's been doing research for us, but I dunno how far he's gotten. Can't even call him. I don't have a damn phone."

Cas produces a cell from his pocket and holds it for Dean to take.

"Dammit, Cas!" Dean snatches it, dialing Bobby's number from memory. "If you had this all the time, you should have called us!"

Bobby picks up on the first ring, distracting Dean for a while. He gives Bobby a quick run-down of the situation, though he leaves Castiel's name out of it, just saying that he ran into another hunter while after the Leviathan and they're helping each other out for now. See, sometimes Dean can be tactful. Too bad for them, Bobby doesn't have any good info yet, but he assures Dean he's still working on it. Dean grumbles, cuts off the call, and chucks the phone back into Cas' lap.

"Bobby's got nothin'. We're on our own. You hungry?"

Castiel still hasn't figured out how to save numbers so the contact list is absolutely blank. He considers having Dean show him how later as he slips it back into his jacket pocket. "I don't have any money with me." He'd been planning to do...well, some thing, if he'd survived the encounter with the Leviathan. Maybe see if there were any soup kitchens he could crawl to, or a shelter or a kind stranger.

Yeah. Cas has been winging it for a little while now.

Again: Cas is an idiot.

"Yeah, so we'll get McDonalds or something. It's cheap and you like burgers, right?"

Dean will cover Cas. That's what he does. Takes care of people.

Cas does like burgers, oddly enough. Except that it makes him think of Jimmy, and again Castiel sends out a prayer hoping that at the very least, James Novak made it to Heaven. If Jimmy was stuck in Purgatory-

Well. It was another thing he needed to rectify. He won't abandon that man's soul to eternal unrest with the monsters of the world.

"Yes. Thank you." Except that Castiel is racking up these favors in his head and he's going to need to repay Dean with like a hundred years of servitude at this rate.

Lucky for Castiel, Dean doesn't want a hundred years of servitude. He just wants his family back in one piece.

Without another word, he changes directions toward a more major road, following it until he finds something resembling civilization. There's no McDonalds after all, but there's a 24 hour diner. That'll be good enough. And hey, the waitress is cute. Dean could watch her serve up burgers and coffee alllll day.

"So after this," he says between bites of burger, "I figure we find ourselves a place to crash for the night, and then we'll head back up to the safehouse. Sam's still out on a hunt, but Bobby'll have something for us to do."

Despite being absolutely starving -he's still getting used to reminding himself to eat at least once or twice a day, it's so freakin' inconvenient- Cas picks at his food.

"Dean. It might be for the best if you warn them of my arrival."

"I'll warn them." He shoves more food in his mouth.

Yeah, he'll warn Bobby, he just won't do it far enough out that Bobby has time to gather weapons.

You know what, even without having mind-reading powers Cas can still tell when Dean is full of shit.

"Before we arrive at his house, ideally."

"Yeah, Cas, I know. Before we arrive at his house."

The driveway is technically before the house.

"I'm not gonna hang you out to dry, so relax"

"I'm not worried about that." Castiel finally takes a bite of his burger. "In everything you do, you put the well-being of others first. It's a trait not commonly found in this era." This is Cas's idea of light conversation.

Cas really needs to learn how to talk to people. He's bad at it.

"Yeah, well, only because your angelic buddies shoved it on me first." Dean will always deny how much he sacrifices for the people around him. It's just something he does, not something he thinks about. Or wants to think about.

He flags down the waitress and pays the bill, getting another couple burgers and two slices of pie to go. Next step, motel. He waves for Cas to follow him, heading back out to the--oh. Hey, motel across the street. He'll take that. One room, two beds, and he takes the one closest to the door. Just in case Cas changes his mind about staying in the middle of the night.

"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?"

Dean glares at his own knotted laces. "You said you lost your wings, Cas. I kinda guessed the rest."

It's something he'd rather not think about. He's starting to realize how much he preferred the invulnerable Cas. The idea of a Cas who could take a hit the wrong way and never get up again isn't an idea Dean likes. It's one he'll do his damn best to keep from happening.

"You just stay out of trouble, you got that?"

"You stay out of trouble," Cas grumbles, rolling over onto his side. He's more worried about Dean getting into a scrape that requires some divine intervention and not having any on hand to spare.

Okay, that was kind of funny.

"Who knew you'd make such a cranky-ass human, huh. You do know that whole, little kid 'no you!' thing is overplayed, right?"

Was that funny? "I'm a few centuries behind on what constitutes contemporary humor." Not that humor had ever been Cas's kind of thing, that was more Uriel's show. Cas was better with biting sarcasm and completely missing the point.

"We gotta get you watching more TV. George Carlin. You'd like him. He's an asshole, too."

Dean flops down on his bed and rolls to face the door.

"Get some sleep. We're gonna get moving early tomorrow."