"Well that was just peachy, Cas. Thank you," Dean groused while taking the last few steps down the porch. Sam tossed a sympathetic look toward Cas, but the angel's gaze was elsewhere - on Dean, as it always seemed to be when it was just the three of them.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Cas replied, "I thought I was doing exactly as you suggested."

"You didn't learn anything since the last time, huh?"

Cas could only cast his head downward, to some degree offended. If Dean didn't want him to do 'bad cop' and didn't want him to observe Sam's obviously towering presence during their interrogations, then what did he want? He had watched Sam closely on every case he'd accompanied them on, and quite frankly, it had been taxing. Sam was excessively adept in emotions.

"You frickin' stretched yourself onto your toes and straight up personal-spaced the poor girl. What the hell did you think that would accomplish? Is that some special move that gets them into your own little 'Cas Comfort Town'?" Dean opened the door of the Impala and threw himself in. "I'm tired of apologizing for you, dude," he added, voice steadily calming itself.

"That was kind of weird," Sam admitted, shrugging as he got in beside Dean.

"I was trying to act like you," Cas retorted with a short glare, to which Sam shot an appraising glimpse out the window.

"I didn't know I took on that stance," Sam reflected as Cas opened one of the back doors and joined them, since Dean insisted he 'get in the goddamned car' if he was going on hunts with them.

"I assumed they were comforted by the height of your compassion, both figuratively and literally, much like the human trope gentle giant."

Sam lowered his head silently, withholding amusement, suddenly understanding Cas' innocent attempt at questioning the right way, which of course seemed to rest solely on Dean's approval. He couldn't decide on a response, so he left it.

Dean was forced to sigh, a sigh Cas recognized as his expression of impatience, impatience spurred by his instinctual knowledge that these particular actions were expected. They began to speed down interstate 25 through Thornton, Colorado, tracing the path back to their motel. "It is not the most equipped vessel for the task of imitating Sam's method of questioning."

"Did you hear that? He just admitted he's not equipped, Sam," Dean reveled in his own joke, glancing at Sam for the inevitable laughter. But one disinterested second later and his proud smirk faded.

"I don't understand what is so amusing about this fact?" Cas questioned from behind.

Spirits now completely dimmed, "Nothing, Cas, nothing."

"So you know not to sit at the end of my bed all night long tonight, right?" Dean stared Cas down.

"There are not many spaces on which to sit, Dean."

"I don't care, dude! Go feather off to a park or a… I don't know, anywhere! You don't need to stay in the room if you're not even capable of sleep."

"You could sit on the corner of my bed," Sam offered from amongst his laptop.

"Thank you, Sam, but you flail around as you sleep, and the bed barely contains you as it is."

"Exactly!" Dean exclaimed as Sam took that comment with a well that was blunt but I accept it face and resumed his case research, zoning the other two out like he often had to do. "These beds are small, and grown men don't get in each other's space while frickin' sleeping!"

"Well - Dean…" Cas started, lifted up his arms in minor exasperation. "… I am sorry if I don't fully grasp the human use of 'personal space' or what it has to do with age or gender. It is merely a way of standing on Earth."

"Okay, you know what? C'mere, Cas," Dean beckoned, obviously losing patience again. Cas came, stopping a little over a foot away. "Alright. This here, do you see it?" Dean gestured outward with open arms at his sides.

"Yes, Dean," Cas said, fighting not to roll his eyes. It had become a surprisingly easy human habit to pick up on, simply due to how often its purpose could be utilized.

"This is personal space. I've got it, you've got it, and mine - mine is pretty wide, and you - you especially need to stay out of it." He stared pointedly at Cas.

"Why are you so insistent I create distance?" There went the familiar tilt of Cas' head.

"Come on," Dean huffed, "It makes people uncomfortable."

"How far can I step into your space before you become uncomfortable?"

"Well, you're alre-"

Cas took a sudden calculating step forward, giving them only inches now. There was a moment of silence as Dean stared unamusedly, carefully keeping composure, into Cas' stoic expression. He knew the angel had his occasional imposing moments, but now was really not the time. Or the subject. Or the place. He could see the man's dark eyelashes in awkward detail, and he was sure if they stood here long enough, he'd be able to get a good count of them. Were there really that many shades of blue to Cas' eyes? In the lighting of the motel bulb hidden in the white shell above them, they were a stony hue he felt held defense he'd never be able to see past and - what the hell - he was not doing this. Seriously - what the fuck? He refocused on the situation, realizing Cas still had his head tilted, his eyebrows now furrowed in scrutinizing confusion at Dean's apparent distraction.

"…You're in it now," he finally said, hastily backing up, realizing the bedside table wasn't far behind and suffering for it with a corner to the back of knee. "Son of a bitch! " He promptly sat down on edge of his bed, holding his leg straight out in front of him, massaging it. He didn't know why, but his heart was beating way too damn quickly for a damn table corner.

He looked up just as Sam's eyes hurriedly turned to his screen. Cas was still staring down at him, perplexity overflowing from his stupid angel face. "What?" Dean uttered roughly. "That hurt," he tried to lighten the atmosphere a bit, because suddenly things felt tense as all hell. "Stop looking at me, it's weirding me out," he shot at Cas, lowering his leg to the floor. "My space extends at least five - maybe four steps away from me, by the way, so now you have the reference, George."

"I don't unders-"

"Curious George, the monkey."

"Dean-"

"I think I'm gonna go walk this out," Dean said suddenly, patting his thighs as he stood up from the bed. "You guys want anything from the machines while I'm out?"

"Bottle of water," Sam quipped. The look on his face was a little too discerning for Dean, but he decided to ignore it. Hell, he was leaving anyway. His hand sat on the doorknob, politely waiting for Cas until he remembered that the damn angel didn't even eat or drink. Come on, dude. "Right," he murmured, before turning the door open and closing it behind him.

Cas was left standing there, at a genuine loss on how to decipher Dean's behavior. He could in many instances, yes, but that was after many subjections to the same expression or gesture. He eventually gained an almost human understanding of them. However, this particular time of 'getting in Dean's ass' had never yielded this reaction from the man. It was not the usual uneasy flickering downward glance, as if Dean couldn't decide where to keep his eyes, the subtle leaning back, the ensuing slow blink and furrowed brow that tied into the exasperated reminder that he was too close.

This was… different. He knew he had dared to violate the terms Dean so strongly put in place so that he would finally receive a clear explanation, but he still hadn't gotten one. All he got was Dean, Dean staring at him as he often did Dean. Was he attempting to read him as well? What was so desirable to figure out this particular time? Was he merely trying harder to stand his ground? There were far too many thoughts in his mind and although he was an angel and was prone to a plethora beyond human comprehension every single day, these were somehow in the forefront.

"Does Dean have some kind of special angel-reading power or something?" he heard from a distance, only registering an invasive sound.

Why did Dean let himself get hurt by something as simple as stepping backward? Why did it hurt him so greatly that he had to leave the room and recover? How frustrating this lack of comprehension was, especially when he knew it was a mere human initiating it. Well, it was not mere - it was Dean, but still, all of this was over something inescapably human.

Another invasive sound. Someone was clearing their throat. Oh, yes.

"What?" Cas turned around on Sam, recalling that he wasn't the only one left in the room.

"I just asked… if Dean has some special ability to read angel minds, like on a separate frequency normal humans can't?"

"Why do you ask that?"

"I don't know… because he's always looking at you for longer than is normal. I figured there was some understanding or similarity between you two that makes that necessary." Sam had shut his laptop, his eyes too tired to keep staring at the unnatural glow. He would go to sleep, but he felt weird with Cas standing looking so lost in the middle of the room like that.

"No, he retains entirely human abilities, nothing angelic," Cas answered with his creased brow.

"Oh… well, huh," Sam settled, musing a few seconds before, "Well, I'm gonna get some sleep now, so-"

"Wait.. Sam."

Cas abruptly fell to his knees and Sam was just as fast to jump to his feet. "What is it? What's wrong?" He rushed to Cas' side.

"I- I don't know…" Cas struggled with words, feeling a strange, wet sensation down his vessel's throat. "Something is coming up." His voice escaped lower than normal.

"Alright.. oh," Sam voiced, immediately thinking he was about to deal with an angel puking his guts onto the motel carpet. "Here, I'll help you to the bathroom." He wrapped one hand beneath one of Cas' arms, helping him hoist himself from the floor so they could navigate to the bathroom. When they arrived and Sam let go of the man near the toilet, Cas promptly crumpled to the floor, prostrate against the tile.

"Cas?!" A shake and then suddenly Sam got a horrifyingly strong urge to vomit himself. So strong, actually, that he was forced to climb over and past Castiel's body to the bathtub, absolutely sure he was going to heave something terrible.

And then consciousness hastily ditched him.