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“Talk to me. Are you sure about this? I mean, it's one thing me and Sammy slamming the gates to the pit, but you -- you're -- you're boarding up Heaven, and you're locking the door behind you.”
The question tugs at all the tender places in him, trying to rip him apart and destroy his resolve. Dean doesn’t know he’s doing it and Castiel won’t let him. Sealing himself away with the angels is the only way to keep Dean Winchester safe. As long as Castiel is in his life, the hunter will never be free of heaven and hell. You can’t have a little piece of heaven without the whole host following, and the whole host will never bring Dean anything but heartbreak and horror. So Castiel must go.
“Yeah. I know.”
The entire English language within his command and that’s all he can think to say. I know. Currently he’s channeling every ounce of energy and concentration in his being into his mission. He’s so utterly focused on keeping Dean safe that he can’t even properly engage in these final moments with him. Castiel will regret it, he’s sure, when he takes his final steps in heaven knowing how disappointing Dean’s last memories of him will be. Yet, when has he ever been anything other than disappointing?
“You did a lot of damage up there, man. You think they're just gonna let that slide?”
He fights down a raw chuckle that pushes at his tongue. This is not the time for humor, but the hysterical feeling that fills his chest and stomach is hard to hide. Dean would ask him such a question and play it off as casual. It isn’t casual, Cas can tell. He hears it in the tightness of the man’s voice, sees it in the tense set of his shoulders.
Dean’s questions file away at the wrought iron cage Cas has built around his decisions. Dean doesn’t want him to do this, but not in his usual way. They are typically at odds with one another’s choices, unhappy because they can’t agree on the right course of action and are separated as such. This is not that. Dean wants the gates shut just as much as he does, but Dean doesn’t want him to do it, because that means he’ll be gone. Castiel may not understand people, and half the time, he may not understand Dean, but he understands this much. The file turns into a blowtorch, melting the bars.
“Do you mean do I think they'll kill me? Yeah, they might.”
He makes his voice as offhand as he can, forcing the quiver that wants to steal through it down into his gut where it burns through him. He finally looks over at Dean and sees his lips twisting wryly. He looks uncomfortable.
“So this is it? E.T. goes home.”
Castiel doesn’t know who E.T. is, but that isn’t the point. He does know Dean has finally begun falling into his typical method of making light of situations that make him uncomfortable in order to get through them. Castiel feels the cool relief flutter through him as he realizes he’s gotten past Dean’s inquisition. He lifts his beer for a drink to his success.
“Cas, I don’t want this.”
Or not. He looks back over at the human over the lip of his bottle, feeling the horror crash over him as his bars weaken.
"I don't understand. You don't want the angels gone from earth?"
Dean worries at his lip and Cas is distracted by it for a second until he speaks again.
"No, dumbass. I don't want you gone from earth and I don't like how cool you're being about it."
There it is. Castiel has survived this whole conversation knowing this truth about his human companion, but hearing Dean speak the words is infinitely worse than knowing. The flame melts through the first bar and its molten tip strikes Cas in the chest, burning him. His ribs constrict away from the pain, but it doesn’t help and he lashes out in anger, turning closely into Dean’s space as he speaks.
"How am I supposed to be about it, Dean? Huh?"
"I want to know that you care! I want to know that it's hard for you to leave m-us."
Castiel doesn’t miss the switch from singular to plural. He doesn’t mistake the note of hysterical urgency in Dean’s low voice. It breaks the cage open completely, and the iron bars clang down inside him, fatally wounding his resolve to remain detached. He leans out of Dean’s space, as if the few extra inches will give him sufficient room to defend himself.
"What would be the point of that? What would it accomplish?"
He can hear the anger in his voice and hates himself for it. Dean wrings so many emotions from him that he isn’t equipped for and often times they’re inaccurate, and insufficient, and so, so painful.
"I want to know I'm not the only one in pain! I want to know that when I go home alone after all this, I'm not the only one feeling the loss here."
Dean’s jaw is tight and his eyes are shining. Castiel can see the hurt in them and he knows he's crushing him with his ambivalence. The molten rods stab him through his heart in unison and Castiel finally bows beneath pain of it.
"What do you think the last five years have been for me, Dean? Do you think you mean nothing to me, Dean?"
"Well you're sure acting like I don't!"
Dean is leaning into his space now and Cas feels the warmth radiating off him in waves. It's not good warmth though, like it usually is. It doesn't light sparks inside him and make him want to be as close as possible. This time, it prickles at the skin beneath his collar and presses against him, making him feel claustrophobic. He leans into It anyway, unable to resist surrounding himself with it one final time.
"And what good would that do? Telling you how much you mean to me. Would it make it easier for you to go home alone if I told you I wish my time on earth with you would never end? Would it make you feel better if I lied and said the angels will welcome me back and I'll be just fine?"
He's surprised by how angry he is once he finishes speaking, his breath coming rapidly. He's moved into Dean's space and Dean has moved into his. Their legs are woven together tightly where they hang over the edges of their stools. Cas watches Dean stare down at their conjoined limbs and feels all his anger ebb away. In the end, it's just the two of them, yearning to connect yet eternally separated. Tears are running down Dean's cheeks and Castiel follows the path of the salty droplets track down his skin and fall upon their laps.
"Why does this always happen to us?" Dean's voice is broken, sounding nothing like the man Castiel knows. He reaches out and brushes the tears away, memorizing the sensation of Dean's skin and tears beneath his thumb. They may have this moment, but this is where it ends. Castiel still must do what is needed, he knows that. Dean's question tells him that he knows it, too. Castiel begins righting the bars of his cage.
"I don't know, Dean. You are the best thing that's happened to me. Whatever does happen next, you'll go on knowing that."
His voice nearly breaks before he can finish, but he manages. The cage is rebuilt and Castiel locks the door behind him. Dean's watery green eyes gazing up at him nearly force the door open once more, but Cas holds it tight.
"I have to finish this now."