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Cas watches Dean walk away from Sam. It hurts in ways he doesn't seem to be able to process. He knows he needs to stay with Sam. Sam needs him. He itches, though, his feet wanting to move. He can't let Dean leave without even a goodbye. He looks over to Sam, standing against the bridge, looking straight ahead, avoiding watching Dean leave. Cas wonders why he can't manage that as well, surely it would be easier.
Before he knows what he's doing, he reaches out to gently touch Sam's arm. Sam seems startled as he looks down at Cas, like maybe he's forgotten he and Dean had an audience. "I'll be back in a moment."
His feet are carrying him toward Dean. He didn’t even realize he’d made the decision until after he spoke to Sam. Dean is not looking back, but he’s walking slowly. Cas catches up without running.
“Dean.”
He stops. Afraid to turn around and see the disappointed look on Cas’ face. Someday he’s going to realize Dean isn’t worth the effort; he probably just has. But when he meets his eyes, what he sees there is more frightening than disappointment. Cas’ eyes are soft, accepting. Dean wants to push that acceptance away, reject him and drive away before he has to deal with whatever that means, but he stands frozen, staring back.
“Dean,” he repeats.
“You said that, Cas. I’m right here. What do you want?” He means for it to come out gruff and impatient, but it sounds broken and needy. Shit, why can’t he just get in the car and go.
Cas steps closer. Personal space close. He lifts his right hand and places it on Dean’s face. It reminds Dean of another time and another place. His eyes squeeze shut involuntarily. When he opens them again, Cas’ hand is still there and his eyes are still soft. Dean’s spent a lot of time looking into those eyes, in anger, in fear, in sympathy, but this feels different and makes his whole body feel tight with the need to flee. Cas’ hand anchors him where he stands. He isn’t capable of doing anything but waiting.
Cas feels Dean’s scruff beneath his hands. He’s held Dean’s face before, in brief moments, but he’s never before touched Dean without a reason. He’s never selfishly held on and cherished him, like he’s doing now. He’s surprised Dean hasn’t jerked away. He’s fragile right now, and Cas shouldn’t be pushing him, but Cas needs this. He can’t let Dean go without it. He thinks it’s possible that Dean needs it too. His other hand slowly rises until he's cradling Dean’s face in both his hands. Dean’s body is rigid, but his eyes are wide, darting around Cas’ face, down and up, pausing on his lips before meeting his eyes again.
Slowly, so slowly, Cas leans in, placing a gentle kiss to one cheek and then the other. The movement is careful, precise, worshipful. A long, slow exhale slips through Dean’s lips before he can stop it. It’s something broken or something relieved, he can’t tell, but then Cas’ lips are on his, still careful, still gentle, and Dean's body is wracked with shudders. He reaches up with uncertain hands and places his fingers against the back of Cas’ hands, barely touching. He feels his whole body relax under Cas’ chaste kiss. When Cas pulls back Dean leans toward him without thinking. Cas smiles and places one finger on Dean’s parted lips, “Come home soon.”
Dean exhales again and leans his weight roughly against the Imapla, rubbing a hand over his face to clear the fog. He nods. Cas smiles again, “Sam and I will be waiting for you when you’re ready.”
Cas watches the Impala drive away before turning back to Sam. Sam is looking at him like he’s never seen him before. “Let’s head back to the bunker, you need rest.” Sam only nods and begins walking toward Cas’ stolen car. Once in the passenger side, Sam takes a deep breath and looks at Cas again. Cas pauses as his hand moves toward the ignition and looks at Sam. He looks tired, and maybe a little sad, but the anger seems to have been pushed to the background. “Thank you, Cas,” is all he says before he leans his head back and closes his eyes.