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Castiel sighed the bunker of the Men of Letters finally came into view. He'd called Dean over an hour ago saying he was almost there, but the last few miles took much longer than he'd anticipated. Of course, that might have had something to do with the fact that he had been more focused on his current situation than he was getting there.
He still couldn't believe he let Metatron trick him. He should have let Kevin attempt to translate the tablet, he should have waited, he should have listened to Dean. It was all his fault that the angels had been cast from Heaven. How many were still searching desperately for a vessel? How many didn't survive the fall? How many (rightfully so) wanted to find him and kill him?
Castiel sighed as he raised a hand to knock on the bunker door. Mild confusion started to rise within him at the loud noises coming from inside until Dean threw the door open. At that moment, it seemed as though time was standing still. Angels, whenever they appeared to humans, never saw their faces. It was their souls that appeared instead. Castiel had obviously figured this out, as he'd seen a few humans here and there on his journey. But nothing could have prepared him for Dean's face.
His face was careworn, he looked as though he was ten years older than his actual age. Freckles were spread about over his nose and under his eyes, and… his eyes. They were a shade of green unlike anything Castiel could have imagined, like the color of a deep forest untouched by man. It was easy to see that for all the strife that Dean had suffered throughout his life, there was still a fire burning inside him.
Castiel was momentarily broken out of his thoughts when Dean pulled him into a tight hug. All the fear and doubt that had been gripping Castiel eased away, for he knew that he was safe and among friends. He was still a bit puzzled by Dean's choice of words, but he knew the hunter well enough to recognize his tone and know that he meant it as a way to show his fondness.
Dean pulled away, and Castiel found himself once more entranced by what he was seeing. His eyes now seemed to sparkle, as if a bundle of kindling had been tossed onto the warm fire that was burning within.
Dean's voice sounded off again, this time laced with concern and confusion. Castiel finally found his own voice, though his own blue eyes were still locked in with Dean's.
"I haven't…" Castiel responded when Dean said he was looking at him as if he'd never seen him before. "I've never seen you like this before. I've always seen your soul, I've never seen… your true form."
It seemed strange using those words to describe it, but this truly was Dean's true form. It is what Sam and their small circle of friends had seen. Castiel, though he'd never said so out loud, always considered Dean's soul to be rather beautiful, despite the contusions it had suffered. But his face, especially his eyes…
Castiel's hand traveled up to touch Dean's cheek. The hunter blinked in mild confusion, but didn't say anything. He only stood there silently as Castiel stared, seemingly understanding why Castiel was overcome with the need to memorize every detail he could.
"Your eyes…" Castiel whispered. "They're… beautiful."
Dean swallowed, a quirky smile crossing his lips.
"Thanks… uh… c'mon… let's get you inside. You must be starvin'."
He placed a hand on Castiel's back and ushered him inside. Once Dean closed the bunker door, for the first time in a long time, Castiel felt safe, and more importantly, he felt like he was home.