Dean threw his head slowly back as he reclined into his chair, letting out a sigh of resigned frustration as his eyes met the ceiling of the motel room. Sammy's bedsheets lay rumpled and discarded upon his abandoned bed where he has left them. There was no other sign that he had ever been there at all.

Gone again, after yet another stupid argument. Hadn't he promised Sam that he'd fix this? Hadn't he told him he'd sort everything out? But now, at the time when Dean needed him the most, his brother had run out on him. Yet again Sam had chosen to get out rather than to face his demons, even though he should have realized by then that there was no escape from the life of the Hunters.

Dean couldn't do any of this without his little brother. As independent and cool he portrayed himself to be, he was in fact lost without Sam, his ever-present, ever-grounded Sammy. His brother was the only thing that Dean had left. Well, him and Cas. But Cas had been missing for months now; ever since the angels had fallen. So when Sam had walked out the bathroom door had taken a pounding. Meaning that it was now lying on the floor with its splintered hinges hanging off. Dean looked at it now, and closed his eyes under a tired hand as he regretted the damage. He was just so uncontrollable when it came to his brother.

He rose out of the chair eventually, and his footsteps were heavy as he made his way over to his bag and the pile of neatly folded clothes on his bed. As he began to pack them away the motel door burst open with a great bang as it hit the wall.

Dean whirled around, pulling his gun out in one swift movement as he did so, the barrel pointed perfectly accurately at none but Castiel, who stood breathlessly a few paces into the room.

"Cas?" Dean lowered his gun in shock.

"Hello, Dean." Cas was breathing heavily, as though he'd been running. But Cas didn't pant when he ran. For that matter, he hardly ever ran.

"Cas? What's wrong?" Dean asked concernedly as he made his way over to his friend, reaching out his hand to grip his arm.

Cas' eyes moved sheepishly away, and he looked down at the floor by his feet. "Dean," he said hesitantly, screwing up his face as though ashamed. "I –"

"Hey." Dean cut him off and caught his chin, pulling it so that Cas would look at him. When their eyes met, Dean's expression became a warm, joyous yet sad smile. "Where the hell have you been?" he breathed as he pulled Cas into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around the trenchcoat-clad angel and pulling him in close. "You could've been dead. You weren't answering me. What happened to you?"

Cas' body was stiff. "I couldn't get to you. You moved around too much. It was difficult for me to catch up."

Dean pulled away, but kept his hands firmly on Cas' upper arms as he scrutinised him. "What do you mean? You can appear out of nowhere. If you knew where I was then why couldn't you just… Come?"

"I'm not –" Cas inhaled sharply. "I'm not an angel anymore, Dean."

"What?" Dean spluttered, his brows pulling together in a confused frown.

"Metatron," Cas explained. "He wasn't trying to close Heaven. He was working a spell that cast all the angels out of Heaven. The first two parts of the spell – killing a Nephilim and cutting off a Cupid's bow – I did, and then Metatron took my Grace for the last part. You saw what happened after that."

Dean turned from the now-human Castiel with the back of his right hand pressed to his forehead as though fatigued. He took a few steps before he looked at Cas again, who bore the expression of a begging man, as though he was pleading for forgiveness, acceptance. He looked so shattered and helpless that Dean could do nothing but comfort him. "Cas," he began. "It's okay. You didn't know –"

"No, Dean." Cas shook his head. "I should have known. I should've seen it. Every time I've trusted someone they have betrayed me. Everyone except for you. Every time I try to do the right thing it turns out to be the worst thing I could possibly do. I should've known that Metatron would use me. Just like everybody else has. I should've believed you. I should have –"

"Cas." Dean's voice was firm as he laid a hand on his friend's shoulder to stop him. "You were just trying to do something. You didn't know Metatron would lie to you. There's no point in being mistrusting of everyone just because people in your past have deceived you. You were looking for someone to help you, that's all. You can't blame yourself for any of this."

"Dean…"

"'Dean…' Nothing. You're here and you're safe and that's all that matters." Dean paused. "But man… You smell awful."

"I – What?"

"You smell seriously bad, Cas," Dean said, wrinkling his nose, but laughing at the same time. "When was the last time you had a shower?"

Cas looked alarmed. "Shower?"

"Yeah, Cas. It pours hot water over your body and you get soap and scrub yourself clean," Dean replied concernedly. "Are you telling me you haven't had a shower all this time?"

"I… Erm…"

Dean rubbed his eyes with finger and thumb. "Okay, okay. S'okay, Cas. We'll get you cleaned up." God, I hope I don't have to help him shower, he thought anxiously. "And, Cas? Have you… Err… Figured out how to… Erm… Use the… Erm… Use the toilet?" he blushed.

"Yes, Dean," Cas replied, squinting perplexedly.

"And you've slept, yeah?"

"Yes, Dean."

"So you had some money, then? For a motel?"

"No."

"What do you mean, 'No'?" Dean frowned. "Didn't you get a motel?"

Cas looked away, fidgeting with the buttons of his filthy coat, and Dean was filled with realization. "You slept on the streets?" he almost whispered.

"By the roadside, mostly," Cas corrected. "And sometimes in the seat of a car if I could get a ride."

"Jesus, Cas," Dean sighed, shaking his head. "How the Hell did you survive? Where'd you get food?"

"I… Stole it," he confessed guiltily, barely able to lift his head. "From market stalls, from people's houses. Turns out this coat is a good place to hide a loaf of bread or a bag of apples."

"Shit," Dean cursed. "Cas… I'm so sorry."

"Sorry for what, Dean?"

"Not sorry for anything," Dean said. "I'm just sorry that you had to go through that. Sorry I changed my phone number so you couldn't call me. Sorry that you're sweaty and tired and starving. You didn't deserve that, Cas."

"It's not your fault, Dean," Cas said sternly.

"Yeah, whatever." He inhaled sharply.

"I'm sorry too, Dean."

"Don't be," Dean smiled, and that smile sent warm shivers down Cas' spine. "You're here now."

Cas tilted his head to the side in that familiar way, relief flooding through his usual mask of serenity as he took in Dean's absolute understanding and the gladness that came with him having Cas back. Cas offered the Hunter a small, sheepish smile and Dean gladly widened his own to a grin of his own before patting his friend's shoulder and moving back to the bed to continue packing.

"Where's Sam?"

Dean's hands froze for an instant. "Sam's gone," he said stiffly, shoving his jeans in a little more viciously than was necessary. "You just missed him, actually."

Cas gave a slight nod. Then they both were still in the silence for a long while, neither moving. Dean broke through the quiet, speaking in a business-like fashion. "Talk to me, Cas," he requested.

Cas stumbled over his words in confusion. "I don't… I… There's nothing…"

"You're human, Cas," Dean stated firmly. "You must have something to say. Some questions…. Anything?"

Cas moved over to Dean's bed and sat down upon its edge. He clasped his hands together in front of his knees. Dean abandoned his packing and took a seat next to him, patiently watching the former angel as he drew in a deep breath. Cas' blue eyes flickered automatically towards Dean's, so unsure and vulnerable, but he saw Dean's to be steady, and this gave him confidence to speak.

"Being human… Isn't as easy as you make out. Without my Grace, I feel as empty as you would soulless. I feel empty and broken and scared, Dean." Cas' face flushed mutely as he confessed. "I'm scared of being killed or hurt, and I'm scared of you getting killed or hurt and me not being able to fix you. As an angel I never had to worry about ordinary knives or guns or even just traffic…" His laugh was short and bitter. "I know how… Hard it is to be you. To be… Alone, amongst other things." He wrung his hands together nervously, and Dean, sensing his anxiety, laid one of his over the top of them, making circling movements with his thumb, stilling Cas' fingers with a reassuring squeeze. Cas looked down at their hands and smiled sadly, giving Dean a soft glance. "Thank you," he said sincerely. A long pause.

"Dean?" Cas said. "Contact from another human being… Does it comfort you?"

"Well we aren't all badass," Dean smirked. "Everyone likes to know that there's someone there who's got your back."

"Have you got my back, Dean?" Cas asked, his voice small.

"Always," Dean confirmed. "I'm here for you, Cas. When you need me."

"And I'm here when you need me."

Dean couldn't find words to reply. He stood up instead, and shouldered his bag, his body inviting Cas to come with, which, with a second for Cas to appreciate this open acceptance after having made yet another grand mistake, he did.

He had crossed to the middle of the room and Dean was at the door, when he began to flicker. His image wavered in and out of existence as Cas looked down at himself, then back at Dean, terrified. "Dean!" he panicked.

Dean turned around, dropping his bag onto the floor as Cas' form flashed in and out of reality. "Cas!" he called.

"What's happening, Dean?" Cas freaked as the flickering became faster and faster, with each flash of his being there becoming shorter and shorter.

"Hold onto me!" Dean said, stretching out to try and grab his friend's returned outstretched hand.

"Dean!" Cas cried out as he disappeared, his desperate hand vanishing into nothing. Dean waited a second, but Cas didn't reappear.

"Cas?" Dean shouted into the empty room. "Cas!" Nothing. "Dammit!" he screamed, raising his hands up behind his head in fists of anguish. He knew he was gone.

In a heartbeat, Dean shot out of the door, throwing his bag onto his back and his coat over his arm. He did not look back nor did he hesitate as he fired up the Impala and drove furiously into the night.