Dean finds out Cas is doing a hunt nearby. He tells himself he’s driving to the next state over to work on the hunt, to be helpful...but Dean’s not bringing the Impala and that’s not a great sign for his intentions.
There’s only one motel in the tiny town. Dean’s room is three doors down from Castiel’s. He knows this only from watching out his window, peering between the filthy blinds to watch Castiel laugh with a group of hunters, who hug him goodbye with a camaraderie that makes Dean’s eyes water.
And even though Castiel is a mere three doors away, Dean can’t bring himself to leave his room. He’s ashamed, angry, afraid. Hours of pacing the filthy carpet and chugging cheap beer leaves Dean sprawled out on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. It’s the middle of the night.
That’s when Dean caves.
He prays. It’s messy and stilted, but sincere and heartfelt. Dean talks about how much he’s missed Cas, how much he needs Cas, how much he...he...l-loves Cas. Then Dean lays back and waits. and waits. and waits.
But Castiel, who is just three doors down, never comes to Dean’s room. The next morning, Dean watches Castiel load up his stolen car and drive away without a single glance, heart heavy with the finality of it.
If only Dean knew the truth.
Castiel had lost the final traces of his grace only a few days before that fateful night in the motel, where the love of his life prayed to him a mere three doors away.
