#versipellem

Castiel nodded slowly, using the moment to think about how best to lure Dean away from the safety of the camp. Nothing occurred to him at the moment–he’d have to keep playing his part until an opportunity presented itself. “I didn’t bring much more with me than what I’m wearing, so I suppose I’ll need quite a bit.”

“What the hell. Sure, I’ll stay.”

Castiel edged closer choosing to lean against the table. “Maybe. There aren’t many other places to go…” He held out his hand for the bottle. “Would you want me here?”

Empty whiskey bottles, papers, maps, and weapons in random states of cleaning were scattered around the cabin. Castiel nodded slowly, eyes roving over the cabin curiously. “Certainly. Whatever you’ve got on hand.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, words spilling out before he could stop and think about them. “I can’t fly anywhere, but I could still lift you over my head throw you several yards between two blinks of your eyes. But pull that stabbing me in the chest greeting you once did, and I’ll bleed out and die within thirty minutes. ‘A big change’ is an understatement.” Oversharing, but true nonetheless. Or at least, it would be, were he actually Fallen.

Anger, pain, and distaste flickered over his features before he schooled them into blankness. “No. An angel without grace is still an angel, just--mortal. I’m bound to my vessel now, but I’m not human, nor will I ever be.”