The barn in Illinois unfolded around them. Dean, lying on the floor where he had fallen, and Cas, still holding onto his hand crouching next to him, concernedly watching the Hunter as he picked himself up onto his knees.

"Dean," Cas whispered. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, Cas. I'm okay." He squeezed the angel's hand reassuringly. "You?"

"I've been better," the angel admitted in his gravelly voice. "But I've been worse."

Dean choked up. "You have," he snickered.

Castiel returned a wobbly smile before collapsing back into Dean's arms in blissful respite. He felt safe again. However, there was one thing which bothered him more than he could supress. He wanted Dean to feel this way, but he couldn't. Not when he was broken like this. "Your soul –" he began to say.

"I said don't worry about it," Dean interrupted, burying his lips in Cas' dark hair. "I don't care."

"No, Dean," Cas insisted. "You have to listen to me. It's my Grace."

"What about your Grace?"

"My Grace is your soul," he told him. "Ophis turned the piece of your soul into my new Grace."

"So what does that mean?" Dean inquired, baffled. Are you my soul-mate or something now?"

"It means you can only forgive me," the angel explained. Then he stopped and horror set in on his face. "What happened between you and Sam?"

The Hunter's lip curled furiously. "Sam's been curing demons," he growled.

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"He's living in Hell with Crowley and he's letting the dick drink his blood."

Cas pursed his lips. "Apparently not," he muttered.

"Crowley needs a blood-bank," Dean went on. "Bastard's addicted to the stuff, and he insists upon taking it from Sammy." Rage boiled in the pit of Dean's stomach and he bristled tensely as his jaw clenched. "He wouldn't help me find you, even when I begged. He went off with Crowley instead saying he wasn't going on a 'suicide mission'," he spat.

"Dean!" Cas exclaimed. "He's your brother!"

"Poor excuse for one."

Castiel clasped their interlocking hands with his free one. "Please, Dean, you have to let this go."

"I can't," Dean lashed. "Not this. He deserves to have Crowley suck him dry."

"This isn't you," Cas pleaded. "If you had your forgiveness you wouldn't be doing this."

"Maybe I would," he snapped. "Maybe this time it's gone far enough. I've forgiven him for everything he's ever done and now… Maybe I'm better off."

Cas was dumbstruck. This was bad; far worse than he'd ever imagined. Dean hadn't lost any of his brain cells during his soul transaction. He meant every word that he said. But without Sam… Cas could hardly imagine Dean without Sam. He was a man without lungs. There had never been anything that the brothers couldn't work out; no evil too great and no deceit too powerful. But there was Cas with all of Dean's affections and wings to boot, whilst Dean pushed his brother even further away with every malicious thought.

"You need your soul back," the angel said. "I'll find a way to give it to you, then you'll forgive Sam and we'll fix everything with Crowley and kill Ophis if we can –"

"No," said Dean firmly. "I'm not letting you do that. If you found a way, I wouldn't let you."

"Why not? It's not mine to keep, Dean."

"I'm not taking your Grace away," he told him. "You're better as an angel. Safer. You can protect yourself… You won't get killed." The Hunter dropped his eyes and licked his lips slowly. Cas caught his chin with delicate fingers and pulled his gaze back up to meet his.

"I'd give it all up," he proclaimed. "You have to be whole again, whatever it takes. You sacrificed everything for me, and I will do the same for you."

Dean went quiet. His voice was a murmur when he spoke next. "You've done enough, Cas," said Dean shortly. "You don't deserve to be punished for my mistakes."

"It wouldn't be a punishment to live a human life with you," Cas declared, without first consulting his brain. He was saying the things that consisted entirely of the knowledge that he found somewhere deep in his heart, and damn what Dean made of it. He could see the Hunter's body jerk slightly as his words sank in.

Dean then began to get to his feet, pulling Castiel up with him. "We should go," he said far too cheerfully, completely ignoring Cas' words and wide eyes. "We'll get back to the bunker – and maybe stop off in Omaha – then figure out our next move. Personally I think a Breaking Bad marathon's in order."

"Dean?"

"I'll get us some popcorn on the way," the Hunter continued. "You might need some new clothes while I wash those ones too…"

Castiel felt his hand being dropped as Dean began to stride away towards the exit of the barn, bowlegs and all. Cas was frozen for a moment before Dean's voice coaxed him along again. They entered the morning sun as though they'd never felt its warmth before.

"So?" Dean poked eagerly after the credits of the first episode of Breaking Bad started to roll. "How was it? Better than Looney Tunes, huh?"

Cas half-smiled. "I don't know. Looney Tunes is enrapturing."

Dean jabbed him in the side. "Admit it. You loved it."

"Do you want any more popcorn?" Cas asked, offering him the bowl. Except by that point there was mostly just kernels. Dean laughed.

"You really like popcorn, don't you?" he chuckled.

"It seems I have acquired a taste for it," admitted Cas, looking back into the bowl with disappointment.

"I'll make some more," the Hunter suggested, beginning to rise from the bed that they'd decided to camp out on.

"I'll do it," Cas protested, snatching the bowl back off him.

Dean smirked. "Really? Are you sure you can manage, angel?"

Cas didn't respond to the use of the term of endearment, so Dean sighed inwardly with relief. Sometimes Cas' naivety had some perks.

"I can manage, Dean."

"Okay then. Remember –"

"You don't like salted," Cas finished. "I know."

Dean inspected him as he wandered off into the kitchen in his new grey t-shirt and black jeans. He had to admit that Cas suited casual clothing very well, especially when it was as form-fitting as those jeans. The Hunter was almost slapping himself for looking, but he'd eventually decided that there was no harm in appreciating the finer things in life.

He pressed the 'Root Menu' button on the remote so he could hover over 'Episode 2' to click when Cas got back. He fidgeted with the bedsheets, then flipped the remote in the air a few times. He exhaled loudly as though his sigh would somehow make the popcorn cook faster, especially when the angel was at the hob. All of a sudden he became aware of the time he was wasting just by being sat there. What was he thinking, having a Breaking Bad marathon? There were people out there dying, and he was a Hunter. It was his responsibility to protect the human population. His work was even more vital now that Sam was off the grid. Dean reached over for his laptop and opened it, typing in the password with prefect precision. The first browser page was dedicated to anime porn, but the other three had news websites loaded up. He refreshed them all with a few taps of 'F5'.

When Cas finally returned with a bowlful of fresh, hot sweet popcorn Dean was scrolling through a newspaper article. The angel frowned. "I thought you wanted to have a marathon," he said.

Dean's face was guilty. "Erm… I was waiting, and I just…" He couldn't keep eye contact. "Work caught up with me."

Cas seemed about to complain, but then he just shrugged and sat back down on the bed so he could peer over Dean's shoulder at the screen. "How do you feel about a trip to the woods?" the Winchester enquired with a grin.

"What is it?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "As far as I can tell from this, it could be anything. Well, anything that doesn't like to leave scraps."

"Wendigo?"

"Unfortunately," he grimaced. "That's very likely."

"How far?"

"Alright, Mr Eager Beaver," the Hunter tutted. "Calm down. This isn't 'cause you didn't like Breaking Bad, is it? Is Mr White not doing it for you?" Cas just scowled at him. "Wenatchee, Washington. There's a National Park just north of there. They do tourist walks sometimes. Should be a 30-hour drive in the Jeep." He winked. "Or a 22-hour drive on one of those awesome bikes in the garage."

Cas' expression was a mixture between fascination and disapproval. "What if you fall off?" he said.

"I'm not gonna fall off, Cas," Dean assured him. "If I do, you can just fix me back up again, right?" The angel was still not satisfied. "I'll wear a helmet, and proper leathers," he promised. "You can too, hotshot."

"Fine," Cas surrendered. "Can I finish my popcorn first?"