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This was not how Castiel had wanted to reunite with Dean Winchester. In fact, now that he was at that point, Cas wasn't sure he'd wanted to reunite with Dean Winchester at all. Guilt sank heavy and uncomfortable in his stomach and he was still getting used to the intensity of feeling.

He'd thought things were confusing as an angel. Twenty times worse with a human ticker pumping away in his chest.

Still, there wasn't exactly an option of running when the only exit was prowled by the Leviathan just beyond the door, held at bay only by the wards Cas had carved into the wood and accented with blood from the gash clotting on his forearm. He checked the shells in his shotgun (useless), the bowie knife against his thigh (also useless) and finally, finally looked over at Dean, not sure what he was going to see.

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If Cas cares at all that Dean is flirting with the waitress, it doesn't show on his face. Honestly he would be more shocked if Dean didn't flirt with the waitress. It's just...Dean behavior. Cas just eats his plate of meat (eggs, sausage, bacon and hamsteak, seriously Cas, at least there was toast involved) and calmly stares out the window as he chews, watching the cars idle by. Vegas isn't too bustling in the morning, is it? Still hot as hell, though.

Cas makes a pleased sound when Dean picks up a new phone, and makes him program the number into his own cell. Finally, a line of communication for if they get separated, although God willing that won't happen again. At least Cas can feel when there's a Leviathan nearby now, two beads of Grace humming like miniature generators, waiting to be reunited with the others.

They're on their way toward a video rental store when Cas's hand snaps out and grabs Dean's upper arm. "Stop the car."

"What--" The Impala's brakes squeal. A car behind them swerves and the driver yells something unfit for print. Dean ignores it. "What's wrong?"

Castiel's brow furrows. "There's one here." He can feel the answering pulse of Grace, somewhere, like a high bell among bass drums.

"Where?!" Dean looks over his shoulder, checks the mirrors. He doesn't see anything. Even if he did, he's not sure how much cleaning fluid they've still got in the trunk.

Cas opens his door and climbs out of the car into the middle of the street, jogging for the sidewalk.

"Cas! Cas, you can't just--" Cas is going to give Dean a heart attack at this rate. Dean swings the car into the nearest parking lot and launches out of it, chasing after Castiel. "What is wrong with you! You can't just jump out of a car like that!"

Castiel spares Dean a glance before turning back toward the horizon, watching some far-off point. "I think it's hunting us," he says lowly. "It followed us here." He doesn't know how he knows that, but he does. He can feel it, the same way he used to feel how the weather was in Germany or how he used to know exactly how many creatures lived in the Pacific ocean.

"So much for the honeymoon tour. Get back in the car, I'm getting us out of town." He refuses to fight a Leviathan in Vegas. They'll get somewhere smaller, where there's less chance of civilian casualties.

Castiel doesn't move. He knows that Dean has a point, has the better plan, but something deeper than logic keeps him rooted to the spot. He wants to kill this thing and take his Grace back from it.

"Cas!" Please don't go running headlong in to a dangerous situation. Not that Dean has any right to tell other people not to go running headlong into dangerous situations. "We don't have the juice to kill it! You don't have the juice to kill it! We have to prep for this!"

Dean's right. Of course.

Feeling like he's abandoning a comrade on the battlefield, Castiel turns on his heel and makes for the Impala. He slides into the front seat, brow still furrowed, still frowning as he rests his head against the passenger side window.

Dean reaches over to pat Castiel's leg. "It's okay. We'll get it."

They just need to stop at the nearest Wal-Mart and stock up on cleaning supplies first.

An hour later, the trunk is full of assorted cleaning fluids, a pair of herbicide sprayers and a crowbar. Just in case. Hands tight on the wheel, Dean doesn't look at Cas as he drives them further out of town. "It still following us or can you tell?"

"I can't tell." Cas glances over his shoulder as if that would help him see more clearly. "There could be a range limit; I can't feel it anymore."

He's kind of pissed they lost it, even though he knows Dean did the right thing and probably saved both of their lives. Besides, if it's following them, it'll come within range again. Still.

"If it's following us, it'll show up again soon enough."

After that, Dean's quiet, putting distance between them and Vegas. It's well after dark by the time he stops at a motel. No rooms free, so they have to keep going farther still. Dean grunts out an apology for that, since he knows how badly Cas wants his Grace back, but there's nothing to be done for it. They're hours away from Vegas and well into the middle of nowhere when he finally finds a good stopping place.

"Sorry, Cas. I couldn't let you face it. Not there."

"I understand." Cas takes his back from the trunk and heads into the room. He really does understand, he just needs a minute to himself to be disappointed.

Dean actually feels pretty bad about it. He hefts his bag and a significant amount of the cleaning supplies and follows Cas inside.

"It'll follow us. We face it on our terms. Okay?" Ugh, all these jugs are heavy. He dumps them near the floor, intent on filling the sprayers later.

Yeah they can just fill some spritzer bottles with some pine-scented Monster-B-Gone. Look real tough and manly.

"Dean." Stop apologizing. Okay so you're not actually saying the words 'I'm sorry' but once you try to reassure Cas for the fifth time, even he is going to catch on. "I know."

Yeah, Dean doesn't like it either, but it's effective, if stupid looking.

He's not apologizing, dammit.

Dean sits on the bed, running his hands over his face.

Cas sits down next to him, elbows on his knees. "Maybe this one will have more of my Grace than usual. Then we can start to hunt them in earnest." Even if his Grace wasn't at stake, Cas would want to hunt the Leviathans in earnest. It was his arrogance that brought them into this world and if it's the last thing he does, he'll put them away.

"Let's hope. It'd be nice to have your ass powered back up."

Dean knows it's as much about redemption as it is about retribution. He understands it. But Cas has fast redeemed in himself in Dean's eyes.

"Just don't get your ass kicked, got it?"

Dean's biased. Cas can still hear the caution in Sam's voice every time he calls, and Bobby doesn't talk to Cas unless absolutely necessary. All of that aside, Castiel still hasn't forgiven himself, and he doesn't expect anyone else to.

"I won't." Cas reaches over and pats Dean on the knee firmly, as Dean had done earlier in the car, before standing up and heading into the bathroom. He cups his hand beneath the faucet for a drink of water. "Dean...it's possible that the Leviathan can also sense the Grace inside of me. We should be prepared."

Dean wouldn't know about Sam's caution. Aside from the brief conversation about the Leviathan, Dean hasn't talked to his brother. He should, he just hasn't. He doesn't want to know what Sam thinks of him still sticking with Cas.

"We're as prepared as we can be." He takes a deep breath. "I'm gonna kill this son of a bitch, Cas."

Cas glances up. Wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and turns off the water. "We'll kill it, Dean."

"Right." Dean frowns. "We'll kill it."

Shut up, he's feeling protective.

Maybe he shouldn't have jumped out of the car like that earlier. Looks like his little stunt shook Dean up.

Cas emerges from the bathroom and lays down on the bed behind Dean, hands on his stomach. "You should rest, Dean."