"I located two of the four, but neither were interested in returning to Heaven." Before Dean can say he can't blame them, Cas continues, "Rumors suggest Ophaiel is in Terre Haute, but I — " He lets out a quiet, tired sigh. "Driving has given me time to think, and I — I've realized this pursuit is pointless. I'm heading home, to the bunker." Home. Dean clears his throat — once, twice. "Great. That — that's great. Me and Sam are a coupla hours south of you. We're heading home too."
[...]
During "All My Love," Dean realizes that Cas is silently mouthing the words — Ours is the fire / All the warmth he can find / He is a feather in the wind. And Dean — fuck. Heat crowds up underneath his jaw. "All My Love" was the last song he put on the mixtape. His hands had shook as he set it up to record; including it was close enough to a confession to freak him the hell out. He only went through with it because he figured Cas wouldn't listen all the way to the end. Or that he'd play it once and then let it rot in his glove compartment. "All of my love," Cas murmurs. His voice is a dull burr that barely crests the rumble of the Impala's engine. "All of my love. All of my love to you." Dean's cheeks burn. He's afraid of what he'll see if he looks at Cas, so he keeps his eyes on the road. He tunnel-visions on the cracked asphalt up ahead until Cas carefully touches his arm. "Dean, you need to turn here." His fingers curl in Dean's sleeve as Dean taps the brakes and tugs on the wheel.
[...]
For the most part, Michael kept him buried pretty deep; he spent nearly all of that six weeks living inside a dream. But the first time Cas tried to rescue him, hearing Cas scream his name was enough to drag him to the surface. Michael crushed him back down almost immediately, but for a strange, unreal moment, he saw Cas through Michael's eyes. He saw Castiel — not Jimmy Novak's meatsuit, but the angel who raised him from Hell.
[...]
"They programmed and reprogrammed his brain until there was virtually nothing left." "It wasn't you," Dean says again. He — fuck. It's the best he can do. "But he was me," Cas insists. His voice is thinner than a thread. "We carried the same grace. God created us on the same day, with the same intent. And when we broke ranks, Heaven tried to force us back in line." He swallows hard before continuing, "I rebelled before the apocalypse. I rebelled many times. But before Heaven could turn me into that, I met you. You — you, and your brother — you helped me. You gave me someplace else to land."
Rest in Pieces by xylodemon
