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Castiel has given serious consideration to how he will answer Dean’s inevitable questions. After all, he can only avoid Dean for so long, and Castiel needs Dean—needs contact with Dean—far too much to stay away. When he returns after fleeing the scene, after Balthazar has used the Winchester brothers for bait, Dean is pacing Bobby’s living room, and he stiffens when he catches sight of Castiel.
“What the hell do you want?” Dean demands.
Castiel sighs. “I’m sorry.”
Dean stares at him silently.
“That would not have been my choice,” Castiel elaborates. “It was Balthazar’s plan, and I went along with it, but I would not have used you as bait in this situation.”
“But you did,” Dean snaps. “We didn’t have one fucking clue as to how we were going to get back. A little warning would have been nice.”
Castiel winces, hearing Dean’s anger and frustration clearly. He knows Dean well enough by now to know what Dean is not saying. Dean had been worried and angry and lost in an alternate dimension, and Castiel had not been of any help.
Castiel can’t be of any help now, so not much has changed.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats.
Dean shakes his head. “Seriously, Cas. Would you just talk to me? Tell me what the hell is going on.”
“We’re losing,” Castiel says frankly. “If you haven’t figured that out by now, Dean, you’re a lot more stupid than you act most of the time.”
Dean winces. “Fuck. Cas.”
“Do you think I’d use you like that if I had any other choice?” Castiel demands. “Do you think I’d agree to put you at risk like that? Raphael was far too close to getting those weapons, and if he had—”
“Don’t you mean she?” Dean asks archly.
Castiel holds back a groan of frustration with some effort. “The vessel does not matter, Dean! Have you not figured that out yet? Raphael is still Raphael. If we lose this war—”
“Earth loses, too, I get it,” Dean says, cutting Castiel off.
“Dean—”
Dean waves a hand. “Okay, let’s agree to disagree. You went along with Balthazar’s plan to use us as bait, and it paid off. If it hadn’t, I’d be completely within my rights to use your feathery ass as target practice.”
Castiel thinks about pointing out that it doesn’t matter if Dean uses him or any other angel as a target—bullets can’t harm him—but he reconsiders. “Very well,” Castiel replies. “What would you like me to do?”
“I don’t know,” Dean admits heavily. “I prayed while I was in that alternate universe.”
“I wasn’t able to hear you,” Castiel points out.
Dean shrugs. “Yeah, I get that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’ve said that already.”
“I am.”
“Yeah.” Dean sighs. “How bad are things right now?”
Castiel hesitates before he says, “Balthazar’s weapons will be a great help. I wasn’t sure he would give them to our side.”
“That was part of your deal,” Dean says flatly. “If you wanted those weapons, you had to let Balthazar fuck with us.”
Castiel hates to admit it, but it’s true. As usual, Dean has seen to the heart of the matter. “Yes.”
Dean nods, and his mouth still has a bitter twist. “As long as you got what you needed.”
Castiel realizes that even gaining Balthazar’s weapons is not worth breaking the fragile connection between him and Dean. Words fail him; words are an unwieldy, human tool that cannot adequately express the emotions running through him. He cannot explain his regret or the place that Dean has in his life.
“Dean,” he begins, and then falls silent.
Dean waves him off. “Forget it, Cas. I get it.”
“I can’t stay,” Castiel says. “I just needed to tell you that I was sorry.”
Dean’s shoulders relax a bit. “Yeah, thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule.”
Castiel makes a noise that is pure frustration and he closes the distance between them, grabbing Dean by the shoulders and pressing his mouth to Dean’s. Castiel tries to pour everything he is feeling into the embrace.
After a moment, Dean’s mouth softens under his, and Dean’s hands frame Castiel’s face. The kiss is deep, and it sweetens quickly, Dean’s thumb stroking Castiel’s cheekbone.
“I have to go,” Castiel says regretfully. “I’m sorry.”
Dean nods and rests his forehead against Castiel’s. “Don’t make a habit of dicking me around, Cas.”
“I will try.” Castiel makes the only promise he can, and then he flies, still feeling the warm press of Dean’s hands on his face.