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Sam: I need you to watch out for me. Dean: Yeah. I always do.                      Sam: No! No, no, no. You have to watch out for me, all right? And if I ever … turn into something that I’m not … you have to kill me.

“Dean, I want you to understand that this Nephilim business is urgent and an all hands on deck situation,” Cas says. “The angels approached me for help and I needed to do something.”

Dean stares resolutely at his desk. “You could’ve stayed with us and helped us if you wanted to so badly.”

“The angels are my family and I-”

“The angels are your family?” Dean asks, incredulous, finally turning to look at Cas. “We—me and Sam—are your family.”

“But you were—” Cas cuts himself off, glaring at Dean’s wall in frustration. 

“What?” Dean stands, stepping into Cas’ personal space. “What, huh?”

“You said I was your brother.” Cas looks Dean in the eye like he’s challenging him. “You were lying.”

“No,” Dean shakes his head. “I definitely wasn’t.”

“I’m an angel,” Cas grits out. “I can sense when someone’s lying.”

Dean pauses in contemplation. He remembers the conversation in his baby, of course, and he has a sneaky suspicion that he knows what Cas is getting at. 

“You’re our family,” he says slowly. “Am I lying?”

Cas is silent for a beat. “No.”

“Sam and I, we want you to stay with us, here. Am I lying?’

“No.”

“You’re like our brother,” Dean says, cataloging every shift on Cas’ face.

Cas narrows his eyes at him, and jackpot. Dean was right.

Dean swallows hard, hesitating for only a moment.

“I love you,” his voice comes out soft, almost a whisper. “Am I lying?” 

“I— no.” Cas is visibly shocked. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m in love with you,” Dean rephrases, letting the breath he’d been holding in out. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Cas asks, face twisted in confusion.

Dean laughs bitterly. “Why? Because you keep leaving, that’s fucking why.”

“I thought—” Cas looks dazed. “I thought you didn’t want me here. I thought you were lying.”

“Well, clearly you were wrong, dumbass,” Dean grumbles. 

“You were lying,” Cas retorts. “Dumbass.”

“Don’t ‘dumbass’ me,” Dean sputters. “Just, c’mere.”

Cas takes a step forward and Dean raises a hand, brushes his cheek.

“Stay, please.” 

My body is melted wax, it is ripe and stink and bent. It is a mistake. I walk like an apology.

Catch me when I fall.