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When Sam and Dean go into the dungeon to interrogate Donatello, they ask Castiel to stay behind. It’s not something that needs all three of them, Sam reasons, and besides, they know Donatello just a little bit better, being human and all. Dean follows it up with a quip about cooks and kitchens, and because Castiel can’t be bothered to try and decipher it, he acquiesces. The Winchesters leave, and Castiel settles into his chair.
Moments later, it all goes wrong.
When Dean begins to choke, grasping at his brother’s arm, Castiel’s heart stutters and restarts. It jumps frantically within his chest, and it’s barely half a second before he’s pushing himself away from the table, with such force that the chair clatters noisily onto the library floor. He doesn’t care, only goes faster and faster towards the dungeon, cursing the fact that his wings are gone, cursing the fact that he wasn’t there, that once again he couldn’t protect them - couldn’t protect Dean.
It’s barely a minute before he rounds the corner to see Dean, propped up against the wall by Sam. Castiel reaches out a hand to touch him, to heal him, but then Dean’s straightening up and assuring his brother and Castiel that he’s okay, he’s okay, and Castiel’s heart finally releases its tight grip.
One final squeeze on Dean’s arm, and Castiel lets his hand drop. He’s safe.
Donatello’s stopped laughing, but the echoes of it and Dean’s frantic gasps of air still reverberate in Castiel’s head. Castiel grits his teeth and looks at the man.
They bring Dean back upstairs. He grumbles and swats away Sam’s hands as he tries to help him up the stairs. Castiel chooses not to remark on the fact that Dean has neither mentioned, nor protested Castiel’s own hand that gently rests on the small of Dean’s back.
Sam walks ahead, and leaves Castiel and Dean to linger behind. Castiel notices that they’re close enough to feel the puffs of air Dean breathes out upon his own lips.
How are you feeling, Castiel murmurs.
‘M fine, Dean grumbles, I just - y’know, didn’t think the guy had it in him. He got the drop on Sammy - got it on both of us. And the guy’s barely had any food but chicken wings for the past couple of weeks!
Castiel can feel the minute tremble of Dean’s body.
This is your home, Dean, and he’s your friend, Castiel says. None of us did.
Dean scoffs. Yeah, well, I think you and me both know how easy it is for friends - for people you trust - to hurt each other. Should’ve known - he stops. I shouldn’t have let Sammy be alone with him.
Castiel’s not sure what expression was on his face, because suddenly Dean turns and dislodges the hand that was on his back. Castiel lets his hand drop back to his side.
C’mon, Dean says, clapping Castiel on his shoulder, Sam’s waiting.
As he watches Dean’s back in front of him, Castiel makes a decision.
A war is coming, and Castiel needs to be able to protect his friends - protect the ones he loves. And to do that, he needs to become the soldier that he once was; the cold, detached soldier of the war against Raphael.
It makes his heart drop to imagine the Winchester’s hurt and disappointment, and it drops further when he imagines how Dean might look at him in distrust and anger - but Castiel would sacrifice everything to make sure his friends and family are safe.
He won’t let Dean be hurt again.
No matter what.