Cas can't imagine that he didn't. He knows Dean, that he's a fighter, that he never gives up. If Dean had told him he had just accepted his fate without question that would have been a surprise.

"Eventually I found out, that you were Death, and I felt ... I'm not sure. A kind of relief, because I knew that you were not lost to me entirely. I didn't come to you right away because I couldn't, and then it went on for so long. Things have only now, after all this time, started to return to some kind of order."

Something like order, something beginning to look like order anyway. Castiel only barely just trusted heaven on it's own long enough to do this. Now that he is here he dreads going back. Looking at Dean he feels like a man who was dying of thirst who has just found water.

"Yeah. Didn't get a lot of time above ground, but I got enough."

Enough to see that the gates of Heaven and Hell weren't quite closed all the way, but they were damn close. It wasn't a perfect solution, but it was one that worked and Dean was grateful for it, because every time he felt an angel go out, every single time, there was that stomach-twisting worry of what if it's Cas.

"So you and Sam-- you fixed everything, or you're workin' on it?"

"It's not perfect, but I think we have reached a point where things are stable. I'm no longer fighting for control anymore. It's a matter of cleaning up the mess left behind. Releasing you, for example. Tessa came after you were imprisoned but she was intercepted and locked down herself. Honestly I am surprised my brothers didn't just kill her but perhaps they thought they could use her as leverage. As soon as I discovered what had been done I released her, contained the guilty parties, and then came here."

It had honestly been a miracle Castiel had not lost his temper and done something regretable to his brothers but his desperation to get to Dean had overcome his anger.

"Hell is much more ordered than Heaven. They are used to shifts in control, and so many were already prepared to follow Sam."

Well, that's a reminder that he owes Tessa big, then. He'd like to lay the smackdown on to the angels who thought they were above dealing with reapers, but he had a feeling that Cas had the whole righteous anger thing down to an art. He'd almost pay to have seen that, honestly.

"Yeah, goodie for them, they got their brilliant leader." Dean rubs the back of his neck, exhaling. "Okay, so. I mean-- Death gave me the whole rundown but when's the last time that Death was free and not dealing with Lucy's temper tantrum?"

What the hell am I supposed to do?

He felt such a soft affection for Dean then, still lost, still looking to him for guidance while he was looking right back for the same. Castiel reached out and lay a hand back on Dean's shoulder, but let it slide up and cup his jaw in a light touch. He heard the real question, though not in a literal sense. Reading Dean's mind was beyond him now. But he knew the other man still, knew him well enough to know his doubts and fears. They were the same ones that Castiel held for himsef.

"You're not alone in this. We'll help each other."

Just like that, he's okay. They'll get through this. Sammy's....well. He'll hold back his judgment until he sees him and confirms he's okay, but he sounds like he's doing...good. Weird as it sounds. And then Cas, well, Cas is the same as ever, and the touch to his jaw makes his eyes close a moment, because this is real, this is real, Cas is there and whole and they're gonna have to deal with this.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay, we'll figure this out." Dean reaches up to grab Castiel's arm, curling fingers around his wrist, holding tight there a moment.

Castiel feels a strange combination of pleasure and revulsion at their current positioning. Both are gestures of affection and yet the last time they really saw each other they stood this way exactly, but with Dean on his knees in very different circumstances. Cas feels deep regret that that was the last they spoke in almost a hundred years, and yet is amazed that they can still stand here like this so full of unyeilding need of each other.

"There is something I have meant to tell you. Something I owe you." His eyes are sad, it could very well be an apology - he certainly owes one. It's not though and Castiel is sure that Dean will want to hear this even less, too little, too late, and without enough evidence to support the claim. Still, he deserves to be told, even if he won't believe it.

He doesn't miss the way this is similar, either. He might not need to sleep, but that doesn't mean that he's not tired, tired of wars going on, tired of everything that keeps happening to them, tired of the fact that none of them can seem to catch a break and it's not stopping, not even after death. Still, it's Cas. Much as Dean's pissed at everyone and everything, it's still Castiel. He squeezes the man's arm a little tighter, sliding it up to his wrist, thumbing over the bones there under his skin.

Cas always felt different than a human, before this. Like there was energy humming faint and soft under his skin, but now it's all the more tangible, like sticking his hand into a pool of static electricity until it tingles.

"Don't think I can take any more bad news today, buddy. Save it for later."

"Dean ..."

It was so like Dean to assume that all news was bad news. He'd been given ample reason to believe that way, Castiel didn't blame him at all, but then he wasn't really sure how this would be taken either as it wasn't really good exactly. He steps closer, personal space never meant much, but now it means even less.

"The last time we spoke you said something to me. It's been the only thing that's allowed me to get through the last century. I never responded properly and I had always intended to."

It's not hard to remember what he said - he can remember everything with near perfect detail these days. Dean doesn't want to, though, because it wasn't a good memory. The last time they'd talked had been a mess, and he'd rather leave that whole set of memories alone, so he shoves that back, and grimaces a little.

Cas is up in his personal space but Dean doesn't step back; it's normal, hell, it's more normal than anything else, to be honest. Dean smooths his hand down the front of Castiel's jacket, tugging with a crooked smile. "Dunno why you'd wanna dredge that up. Shit memories, Cas." Because he'd done everything but bare his soul at the angel, and it'd done nothing. Cas left, and Sam was gone soon after and the sting of it still ached years later.

Cas nods, lets his thumb drag itself down Dean's face. He's had so long to think about that, how he just left. In retrospect he realises he might never have seen Dean again and it's absolutely terrifying to him. What's worse is what it must have felt like to Dean for whom the time would have passed with a human's perception. It's surprising that Dean doesn't respond to him as if he is a stranger.

"Because I had never meant to stay away so long, because leaving you was a mistake, because I meant to respond. Everything you said that day, I have thought about it over and over again for decades and I feel the same way now that I did then: everything you said, I feel it too. I know I left and that I haven't been here. When you died and I lost you, I never hated myself more for anything than not staying that day and telling you that what you said to me was important. That it was you that broke through the conditioning Naomi had me under. I want you to know those things, and I want you to know that I am so sorry. You deserve so much more than I have offered you."

Dean hasn't shaved at all, but he doesn't have a ridiculous beard, thank god. It's fuzzy, just a little, but only barely so. The nice thing about this, he supposes, is he can pick what he wants, and it takes barely a thought. When Cas' thumb strokes there, he pauses, and he's clean-shaven, just like that. It's weird, but kind of welcome that everything is that easy, now.

He isn't sure what he's expecting, though; Cas to give him more bad news, to admit to something awful, to brace him for more things he doesn't want to think about. He's not sure, really, but what comes out of his mouth, well, that's unexpected entirely.

Swallowing hard, Dean drops his hands to his sides, not quite looking at him. "Cas, don't. It was-- you know long ago that was."

"For you, perhaps. Not for me. I've lived so long what does a century mean to me? And the way I have behaved ... having had this time apart it has only driven into me how much I do need you. And what that means." And what it meant when Dean had said it, rather than what he had always assumed - that while yes, he was someone Dean considered a friend he was also a necessary tool. He had been so ignorant.

There's a million different cliche sayings he could give him that would apply here. Don't know what you have til it's gone, he thinks, and doesn't say a word, because the pettiness is mostly gone, leaving him just relieved that this isn't as bad as it could have been. Dean adjusts Castiel's jacket over his shoulders, straightening his tie with a crooked smile, and shrugs. The apology helps, but that doesn't mean it doesn't still sting, just a little.

"It was shit for everyone, Cas. But-- thanks."

At least he's smiling, so it's something, but Castiel still feels somewhat hollow. He had always thought well of himself, never had reason to question or doubt and he has just fallen so low. He will never understand why his father has constantly brought him back from death, constantly allowed him to commit such travesties, and then charged him with overseeing heaven in his stead. Castiel has had more second chances than anyone deserves and he will have to live with his failures for the rest of eternity it seems. He thought he needed Dean to hear what he really felt in order to alleviate the ache inside him, but apparently that is not the case.

Perhaps this is punishment after all. How has it taken him a century to understand?

There is a flicker of strong emotion in his eyes, an unending sadness, and then because Castiel has never been good at hiding what he's feeling, he merely drops his hand and looks away. "I expect that you will want to see Sam as soon as possible."

Castiel understands that and doesn't begrudge him the need to do so. "I need to return to heaven." He has a room full of angels to deal with. "When you're done checking on Sam ... well. It's been too long between us, and you know you are welcome anywhere I am."

It's probably redundant giving Dean an open invitation to heaven, but he isn't sure what else to say or do, and he knows that Dean and Sam will need time to themselves.

Castiel nods, always happy to see Sam, but honestly ... "Maybe we should just meet somewhere on earth if you're bringing Sam along. Not that he's unwelcome, but if I have the two of you I imagine I will be more than ready to escape myself."

He manages to offer Dean a genuine wry smile, because Dean knows what angels are like, and Cas knows he knows. Cas doesn't do well with bureaucracy now much better than Dean does.

"Don't stay away too long."

Castiel considers this a moment and nods slowly. "If I get into trouble, I will call on you." It's what Dean has been trying to get Cas to do from the beginning, and Castiel has always gotten the answer wrong until now.

There's more to say, more to do, but now is not the time or the place and time is something they both have plenty of now. Still Castiel can't help but leave Dean with one last thought, something which Castiel isn't sure how he will react to. He has had more than ample time to consider this though, and it is one thing he is sorely sorry he has never done before. He steps forward, places his hands on Dean's face, and kisses him firm but gentle. He holds the kiss for a moment and then steps back, fixing him with a look both gentle and sad before disappearing before him without so much as the sound of wings on the air.

It works, because unlike his predecessor, Castiel is a much more attentive god - or more attentive heavenly babysitter, whatever it is he's become. He appears moments after Dean calls, and and looks around his surroundings curiously before focusing in on Dean.

"Yours I presume?"

Castiel nods and moves a little further in the room. He stops a few feet away from Dean and nods approvingly. Dean has never had a true place of his own. It's high time he got the chance to experiment it.

"How was Sam?"