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Silence follows as Castiel watches Dean head into the bathroom, then rubs a hand down his face and leans against the dresser to watch the coffee percolate since he has nothing better to do.

Words still feel just as cheap as they did last night, but with the shock and adrenaline long since worn off Castiel feels more wrung-out and resigned than emotional.

Dean takes his time in the bathroom, mostly because he isn't used to doing things with his left hand, and that eats up a lot of time. Peeing isn't hard, but brushing his teeth proves to be more difficult than he anticipates and he nearly ends up with toothpaste up his nose. Still coughing slightly, he finally emerges from the bathroom a good 15 minutes later and heads straight for the coffee to pour himself a cup.

Yes, okay, he just burned his tongue on it. In the grand scheme of these, does that really matter much?

"Hey. Cas. You okay?"

"Fine." Castiel takes Dean's wrist and turns his arm in his hands. "This should be in a sling."

"It'll be okay, I've had worse." Dean only puts up with it because it's Cas manhandling him. "And you're not fine. I know fine when I see it and the look on your face says 'I'm not fine'. Come on, Cas. You're allowed to be freaked out. We're dealing with some pretty scary stuff here."

Castiel's eyes narrow and he lets go of Dean's arm. "I'm driving today."

Excuse you, Cas. "No, you're not."

Castiel gestures. "You need your right hand to drive, Dean."

"Yes, I do and no, you're not driving my baby again." If they have to stay here for another day, then dammit, they will stay here for another day.

"We can't stay here any longer," Cas insists stubbornly, and it's almost like he can read Dean's mind again. He collects Dean's toiletries and stuffs them into his duffel. "The Leviathan is most likely mobile again and will be very unhappy with both of us. Staying put is too dangerous."

Dean makes a face. He hates it when other people are right.

"Okay, so we lie low for a while. And you drive, but only to the next town, we clear?"

"Because of course, once the Leviathan scours this town for us and finds nothing, it will simply give up." Cas couldn't sound more sarcastic if he'd eaten a bowl of cynicism for breakfast.

Edited 2011-11-22 05:06 (UTC)

"One town, Cas! We switch off!" It isn't just Dean's stubbornness flaring up, it's his defensiveness. Dean Winchester isn't the one who gets protected, he's the one who does the protecting.

"This wouldn't even be an issue if you'd heal me!"

Foot, meet mouth.

Cas straightens up to his full height- it's not particularly considerable, especially not when shoulder-to-shoulder with a giant like Sam, but with Dean he's almost eye-to-eye. His expression is old and tired, but doesn't betray even a flicker of hurt.

"That's what I'm trying to do." Cas tilts his head, just barely, just a single degree, and the gesture doesn't mean what it used to. "But you don't seem to think you deserve that, either."

Dean flinches anyway. That little movement, the way he straightens up and tips his head reminds Dean of everything Cas used to be and isn't anymore.

"Cas, I'm sorry." See Dean. See Dean not listen to a word falling out of Cas's mouth. "I know this whole...human thing isn't easy for you. I shouldn't have said that."

"No, Dean, you aren't listening." Cas takes a step forward, right up into Dean's space. He mimics the gesture Dean had used to catch his eyes years ago, tilting his head until he has Dean's attention and pulling him back. "You still deserve to be saved."

And for once, Dean doesn't tell him to back off.

"Cas, I don't think I need saving anymore. It's the rest of the world that's kinda screwed. You're kinda screwed."

"When I sought your soul in hell, do you know how I found you?"

"Cas, I'm not in hell anymore. I'm not in hell and the apocalypse never happened, okay?"

"Dean."

"What."

"What set you apart from all the other wounded souls was that even twisted and steeped in the cruelty Alistair forced you to perform, you reached for me." Castiel grabs Dean's chin with fingers stronger than they looked, both to shock him back into silence so that he wouldn't interrupt and to keep his eyes forward. "Halfway toward the demonic, you reached for me. You should have been terrified. You should have fled, but you didn't. You cast aside your knives and reached, and I knew then you were the soul I sought."

Well, that shut him up for a minute anyway.

"Cas...anyone would've wanted out of that mess."

"The others fled. The other demons, Alastair and his disciples. Souls who had only tortured for a week wept in my presence but you didn't. You saw salvation and even if it hurt to touch, even if it burned, you wanted it."

Cas lets Dean go and takes a step back. It isn't just determination on his face now, it's a glowing pride that can't be replicated, can't be compared to any other relationship; fatherly, brotherly, nothing. Castiel is the angel who raised the Righteous Man, and Castiel is the angel to whom the Righteous Man reached. "I will drive until I believe the Leviathan will be unable to find us. I promise that I'll be very gentle with your car."

Dean really, really doesn't see what hell has to do with Cas driving, but.

But he's got nothin'. Not when Cas is making a face like that. It's like a freaking conspiracy. He can't say no to that face. He can't.

"Okay. Alright. Fine. You can drive. But I swear to god, Cas, you put so much as a nick in her paint, I'll have your head, you get me?"

"I get you." The slang still feels odd in Castiel's mouth, but maybe that's the point of saying it. If Dean doesn't get the correlation between being raised from perdition and being driven out of town- well he's stupid. And Cas doesn't care.

Gathering up their duffels, Cas scoops up the keys and heads off to pack up the Impala for another long day of driving.