Sam was really testing Dean's patience.

But Dean really didn't have to energy to tell Sam to shut the hell up, or to even kick him underneath the table so he would stop rapping his fingers on the dull, linoleum that covered it. He didn't even have the energy to roll his eyes as Sam asked him, yet again, if he wanted to talk about it. He didn't have the energy to acknowledge Sam's bitch face.

So, he just kept staring out the window, to the dull, unknowing world.

He heard Sam sigh, one of those 'poor Dean, I know your pain,' sighs.

He almost had enough energy to punch Sam in the face as Sam reached over and touched Dean's hand gently. He could see Sam in the corner of his eye, watching Dean's expression. Dean hardened his jaw.

'Dean.'

Dean looked over at Sam but said nothing. Sam shut his laptop and moved his coffee to the side. Nerd.

'Dean, I know-'

'No you don't,' Dean said back, monotonously. He was not having this conversation with Sam. Sam couldn't sympathize with him, not this time.

'Dean,' Sam tried again, 'Ok I don't know. But please, talk to me.'

Dean moved his hand from underneath Sam's and brought it together with his other hand, elbows on the table and fingers curled together to make a fist under his chin, both thumbs underneath his teeth.

'What do you want me to say, Sammy?' Dean sounded tired, exhausted, as if he was in his eighties, not thirties.

'Say anything, Dean. Tell me what's going through your head,' Sam pleaded quietly, though no one in the diner was even listening. He was trying to break through Dean's tough-guy facade. Dean ran a hand over his tired face, sitting back.

'We tried, Dean. We tried to help him,' said Sam.

'If we did such a good job helping him, then why are we sitting here, and he's...' He couldn't say dead. Or gone. Those words put a lump in his throat, so he just ended it with, 'wherever he is.'

'Because he's an angel, he thought he was powerful enough to not need any help,' Sam used present tense, knowing that Dean would notice straight away if he referred to Castiel as gone.

'I told him he was family. But seriously... how many times did we call him just to... talk? Not once. No wonder he didn't want any help from us... That's all we ever asked from him! We only ever called him when we needed something from him...'

'Hey,' Sam said sharply and Dean looked at him through bleary eyes, 'don't you dare try blaming yourself Dean. We called him when we needed help because that's what family does. They help each other.'

Dean went back to looking out the window. No matter what he said, Sam would have an answer for it, so he shut his mouth and didn't bother.

'We used him,' Dean muttered, more to himself, but Sam heard it and sighed angrily.

'How many times have we saved him? Think about it Dean.'

'He'd still be alive if he never met us.'

'Dean you shut the fuck up, right now,' Sam hissed and Dean was so surprised at Sam that he snapped his attention straight back to him.

'Cas is our friend. He has been since he raised you from hell. So you listen to me. We didn't let Cas down, he just felt like he had no other options. He knew that if he had told us from the beginning about Crowley's offer, that we would have put him on a different path. He knew that we wouldn't think logically, because we cared about him too much. He wanted to win,' Sam's face was hard. Clearly he had put a lot of thought into this.

'Team Free Will, remember?' Sam's voice was a lot softer now. Dean nodded once and went back to look at the window. He sighed.

'I just wish he didn't go to Crowley, you know? Even though I was with Lisa and Ben, he still could have asked me-'

Dean suddenly stopped and Sam looked up at Dean's stunned face.

'What is it?'

Dean didn't answer but shot out of the booth, spilling coffee everywhere and ran out the door. Sam grabbed his laptop and followed, almost running into Dean who had stopped on the footpath and was looking around like a hound scenting a fox.

'Dean! What is it?'

'I...' Dean was looking around frantically, eyes wide, 'Sam go get the car.'

'What?'

'Go get the car,' Dean growled and Sam backed off, running around the other side of the diner to get the car. As soon as Sam was out of sight, Dean took off running at full speed towards the crowd that was walking down the sidewalk. He moved between people, muttering 'sorry' every now and again as they made a noise frustration at being pushed or elbowed.

At the end of the sidewalk, he saw the swish of the coat turn the corner and he ran again, skidding to a halt as he turned the corner.

'Cas!' He yelled out, expecting to see him, but he was faced with a dead end, empty street.

His heart was pounding; he could have sworn he had seen...

Dean felt his face fall into heavy disappointment and licked his lips. His hands turned to fists at his side.

'Fuck,' he said to himself, turning, only to be shoved up against the brick wall with brutal force, a blade at his neck. Dean's green eyes were confronted with hard blue ones and he stammered.

'C-Cas?'

'Who are you?' Cas asked in a hard voice, his eyes squinted in suspicion. Dean looked from the blade at his neck, just a normal, non-angelic blade, back up to Cas. His heart dropped again, despite it beating furiously. He plastered a nervous smile to his face.

'Cas, you're alive,' Dean didn't know how he could sound so relieved when he was an inch away from being slaughtered.

Cas seemed to relax just the slightest, 'Who are you?' He repeated.

'Cas, you... you seriously don't remember me?'

Cas gave him a deadly look. Clearly that wasn't the answer he wanted.

'Dean,' Dean said quickly, 'My name is Dean Winchester.'

'Why were you following me, Dean Winchester?'

Dean felt himself slump, even though Cas was holding him in a vice grip in one hand, the other was still holding a knife to his neck.

Dean looked into Cas's eyes imploringly, 'Please, Castiel. You know me.'

'How do you know who I am?'

'Your name is Castiel... You're an angel. I think you're the angel of Thursday or something.'

'... Anyone could know that.'

'Your vessel's name, the guys whose meat suit you're wearing, his name is Jimmy. He has a wife and a daughter,' Dean started talking faster, seeing Castiel's anger slightly diminish, 'He loves his burgers, and one time you ate over two hundred of them.'

'Why would I do that?'

'Because Famine, one of the four horsemen, made you.'

'I have not met Famine. You're speaking in riddles.'

'...Cas what's the last thing you remember?'

Castiel looked mildly taken aback by these words.

'I have just left my vessel's house and was drawn here.'

'Drawn?'

'I... Yes,' Castiel still looked suspicious but he slowly lowered the blade, 'how do you know me? How do I know you?'

Dean swallowed hard, his mind running a thousand miles a minute.

'This is going to be hard to believe, Cas...'

'Why do you keep calling me that? My name is Castiel.'

Dean laughed, it was an odd sound.

'I've called you that for... years now.'

'How do I know you?' He repeated, but it was a simple question now, not a menacing statement. Cas was simply standing in front of Dean now, his weapon completely lowered, but (as usual) he was still in Dean's personal space with his head tilted to the side in confusion. It was so familiar, Dean couldn't help but smile, tears filling his eyes at the raw emotion that boiled to the surface.

'You raised me from perdition.'