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"All right, take care", Dean says, and follows with his usual pat on the shoulder. For what may be the thousandth time since they met, he avoids Castiel's eyes, tries to ignore the guilt that comes with fucking up, which he's accepted is just what he's destined to do.
But this time, Cas' insistent gaze isn't stubbornly trying to catch his own. No, this time, the angel is looking anywhere but at him, as if his eyes would get burnt out if he stared anywhere even close to his vicinity. How ironic.
Not an angel anymore, Dean reminds himself, just to add salt to the gaping wound growing steadily in his chest. He closes his eyes just a fraction longer than a normal blink, then pulls some bills out of his wallet. He hands them out to Cas, and doesn't lift his gaze from where it's been staring out of baby's windshield for a while now.
Cas speaks after what feels like an eternity of silence, which he kept during the entire ride to the motel. "Dean, I don't need your money."
Dean feels like someone is slowly pulling on the stitches that are keeping his heart together. He knows a pathetic piece of paper doesn't fix the fact that he's dumping his best friend when he needs the most help.
Still, he stows his shame deep in the confines of his mind, knowing it'll come to bite him in the ass later, and he unsticks his eyes from the turned off 'no vacancy' sign he was just tracing with his eyes, to finally look at Cas. His eyes are dull and emotionless, almost reminding him of when they first met, when he was still following the rule of heaven, but he can still see just a sliver of sadness in the subtle droop of them. He blinks back what he thinks might be tears, and he knows his eyes are pleading, but he really couldn't care less about whatever shred of dignity he has left.
"Cas, please. Take it."
Cas looks at him, for one, two, three seconds, and Dean realizes how much he's missed the endless blue staring back at him. But it's gone again in an instant, and all that's left is Cas' calloused hand pulling the dollar bills from Dean's grip, turning around and walking the desolated parking lot towards the dingy building standing behind it.
Dean stays, and watches Cas' back, strikingly different when it's wearing a hoodie instead of a tan trenchcoat. He watches Cas' feet step slowly towards the dim yellow light coming from the front desk. He watches him pause and stare down for what feels like an eternity. He watches as he finally pushes the entrance door, and faintly hears the sound of a bell through baby's open window.
Castiel's electric blue gaze, full of betrayal and regret, stares back at him from the empty passenger seat. He closes his eyes, and is immediately greeted by the image of his best friend, messy-haired and bruised, eating a burrito on the bunker's table. Another image of him follows, dead on a chair, with an angel blade stuck to his chest. Then another, walking the short path towards the entrance door of a motel in the middle of nowhere.
Dean drives, and tries to forget.