oasisnetwork | 02: Ground Rules (Backdated to the 19th)

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02: Ground Rules (Backdated to the 19th)

[[ooc: Backdated to shortly after this mess with Newt gets resolved and they're back inside the Gates.]

All ya'll talking shit about how we all gotta work together 'cause we're stuck here together best listen the hell up. You want to work together? FINE. First you gotta to is tell the rest of us what hell you can do. No more fucking surprises like some seven foot leopard man!

The only way to pool our goddamn resources are if we know what the fuck they are! And if you can do shit like that, then it's a goddamn resource!

I don't care where the hell you picked to hole your asses up, but if you're gonna talk to me and everyone else about how we should kum-by-fucking-ya, then you best be offering up your skills so we can take full advantage of them.

And don't make runs outside the walls alone no more without telling someone where the hell you're gonna be so we know to keep an eye on you! Hell, I don't even go hunting without telling Glenn I'll be out! You got people to rely on so rely on them!

Fucking hell, people!

[Daryl's angry because he cares. And he hates that he cares.]

[[ooc: open to action if anyone wants to be near him while he's making this rant]]

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[ Cas waved a hand behind him to still Dean. They'd discussed this. There really was only way to prove himself, to Daryl and anyone else watching from the barricade beyond them.

So it's then that he tips his head upward, eyes brightening with such shining, opalescent blue, that it casts the shadows of his ragged wings around him. They're as beaten looking as he is, but what can you expect?

Still, it's very impressive. Possibly. ]

Do you still wish to beat the truth out of me?

[He'd followed Daryl after the rant, wanting to have his brother's back if anything went down outside of words. It was the way these things worked. He'd kept his silence, let Daryl have his say - because he agreed with it. Maybe he'd have worded it differently, but there it was. So, there Glenn stood, then. At Daryl's back, but off to the side. Watching carefully; fingers curled around the handle of his knife should he need to use it. He'd been told about this guy, Jimmy who was now calling himself Castiel. None of it sounded good, not one little thing - and now here he was, giving another name and the... the... ]

What in the actual fuck?

[Whispered and completely not cool with what he was seeing, even if he'd seen shit he couldn't explain already. Plenty of it. But this? No. Just. No.]

[Daryl stilled in his walking. Took a step back and put himself relatively even with Glenn. His chin lifted and he just stared for a moment. Until Glenn's words cut into his head and registered. The disbelief helped him ground himself.

The look of uncertainty, worry, fear, the confusion of emotions that had played out over his face evaporated. He was back to his firm glare. He had to be for Glenn's sake, if not his own.

He snorted, acted unimpressed.]

Nice light show.

[Daryl tipped his head to catch Dean's eyes.]

You were talking about him being insane? But how he got better? Think he might have relapsed.

[ This was his favorite part. The part where shit always went south, the part where you got called crazy or jumped up on something strong. There's a reason you don't go around telling people that you're a hunter or you're a goddamn angel and it's because nobody actually believes. There's something utterly destructive about it, like watching your whole being get taken apart, get called a lie. And really, there just isn't a good enough reason to tell the truth when you know for a fact it isn't going to be believed.

Dean just looks stern throughout the whole thing, vaguely bored. He's seen all of this before, heard it all before, and now the best he can do is look uninterested in Cas' display. He does, however, just barely manage to keep his annoyance in check. ]

Nope, this'd be about as honest as he's been since we got here. He's an angel, born and bred. Just be glad he didn't bring any of his brothers here with him.

[ Because really, then all manner of horribleness would ensue. There's a few perks to just getting Castiel as a singular package without the rest of Heaven's army and yet... Dean has no reason to go ahead explaining that one. Not to mention, he's still not altogether interested in detailing out how he knows an angel, since this is Castiel's story and not his. But it's likely he'll get there. Eventually. Probably. ]

I wasn't born, [ He corrects, immediately. ] I was made; forged by God to protect humanity.

[ He begins with his tone low to address Dean alone, but raises it toward the end, turning his head back to look at Glenn and Daryl each in turn. They don't believe him--or they fear, and disbelief is a defense mechanism, that's closer to the truth. It's how Dean had responded to him, too, in the very beginning, and so he is grateful that the hunter is there, his "family", the only one he can depend upon to fight for him if everything else goes wrong.

His eyes narrow pointedly as he looks at Daryl, and he takes two steps forward, despite the fact that he'd been told to stay put just a moment before. His very human blue gaze is inscrutable. ]

I told you that you would not believe me, even though you insisted that I prove myself. I was not wrong. Your doubt is not my fault, or responsibility. It is a flaw cut into you by your own tired and shaken faith.

[Daryl jumped back at the approach the same as he had at the fuel station. It happened without thought. Arms spreading to his sides to keep his body lines open, keep them from being trapped against his side in case Castiel reached for him. He didn't even realized he'd flinched, head jerking away, shoulder's scrunching up. Expecting to be lashed out at. Castiel's current confidence of presence was triggering every old muscle memory Daryl had of his father's temper, the bottle, and the belt that came after.

He caught himself after Cas stopped and started berating him for his disbelief. His chest heaved at little at a suddenly thundering heart. He barely heard what was being said. But he got his head together enough to understand it after a moment.

He'd raged loudly over the earpieces, spit fire into his words. That wasn't the anger he presented now. That had just been him getting it out of his system. The safest way he knew how. A way that didn't involve hurting people.

When he wanted to hurt someone he dropped into a cold fury. It was one filled with fear (for his friends, for himself), worry (for those he had to keep alive), the need to protect (everyone that relied on him). Daryl brought that up now, closed the distance between them. He reached out to grab Castiel by the front of his coat and pull him in so he could growl into his face, voice quiet but not nearly calm enough.]

I believe you believe what you're saying. And that your friend, believes you. But that don't mean it's the truth. It don't mean it's real. So you can stop your fucking preaching because the choir checked out a long time ago and the corpses of the congregation's been eating them for years.

[Glenn wasn't sure exactly what to think or feel. There were a lot of different emotions running through him at the moment, and his eyes were locked on Castiel until Daryl moved back; his body language saying so much. Glenn immediately went forward, protective stance something he couldn't help. He was overwhelmed, but he was also worried for his friend. The wish for a gun was almost too much for him, but there was a part of him which told him to try to keep his cool, keep his calm. Instinct, even if he didn't want to listen. There was fear, yes. There was a lot of disbelief, too. He found himself about to speak, but Daryl recovered and was moving forward then; taking hold of the guy who claimed to be an 'angel of the lord'. Where the hell had that shit been for the last while? Where the hell indeed? They'd been living in terror and pain, and in constant and consistent loss. The whole world had been - and now they were here. In the presence of an 'angel'. Bullshit. He felt himself shaking, his eyes narrowed and locked on Castiel as Daryl took hold of him. Again he was silent; trying to process, trying to get it - but all the while? He stood ready.]

[ Castiel wasn't...great with the confrontation. Certainly not in being grabbed and held onto, gripped with the kind of ferocity and intent that in Purgatory would have had him flaring up with his grace as a weapon, driving the soul out of the creature that was attacking him. He'd been running for so long now, without pause, and when it did come to a fight it was like this, a confrontation that he couldn't escape without violence.

It was only the feeling of Daryl's soul, his friend's beside him, and Dean, a figure of strength and reassurance at his back, ready to fight for him if it ever got beyond a point where Castiel could handle it on his own, that made him conscientious enough not to either teleport himself away and keep running, or turn his strength on Daryl. He was just human--he was afraid, and his life, his father, his brother, the walkers, his family since...everything had tested him.

He lowered his voice to complete softness, so only Daryl would hear him. ]

When do you accept that something is real? Your intentions and your fear contradict each other. You claim you want the best for your group, but you delay accepting the truth because it frightens you.

I am real.

[ He's not going to push any more than that, but he turns his head, looking across at Glenn, who he addresses: ] What were you going to say?

[He kept his eyes locked on Castiel, not knowing what he said to Daryl; which made him curious but didn't help on that matter of trust or belief. In fact, belief was hard for Glenn; at least where the angelic was concerned. His mind kept going back to everything he'd witnessed, everything he'd experienced. Everything lost. Everyone gone; perished, sometimes to arise so they could try to eat their remaining loved ones. If he'd had struggles with believing in God before, a lot of what he and Daryl had lived through had put the final nail in the coffin of religious belief. And there this guy was, with a crowbar shaped like angel wings. How could that be a trick? A trick of light? There was too much shit floating around for it to be an illusion, unless there was even more that Glenn didn't have the answer to.

Go figure.

He kept his silence for a moment, though his eyes remained locked on Castiel. His jaw clenched, relaxed a little bit.]

That this is complete bullshit. I'm thinking exactly what Daryl said; you might think you are, your friend might think you are - but you are not. There is no damn way.

[Athena had been quiet during the exchange so far. She knew that Daryl was close to snapping and didn't want to set him off by getting in too close to a situation he perceived as dangerous for her. When Castiel attempted to prove himself though, she moved to stand up and didn't hesitate in walking in close enough that she could attempt to reach out and futilely try to touch at the shadow wings that had showed themselves.]

It doesn't matter.

[Her tone is flat. Controlled, so she didn't let it show that she was becoming angry at the adults for so much fighting.]

You were made, you have powers and mannerisms that regular people don't understand. Even still, you're real.

[She felt an overwhelming surge of compassion for Castiel at that moment. Empathy wasn't something she ever had been able to possess before arriving here and now she couldn't control the emotion that putting herself in his shoes made her feel. Her head turned and she looked to Daryl. She was almost pleading with him now.]

Just as real as I am.

[She just wasn't sure if angels were scientifically able to exist.]

[Goddamn it, Athena. ~~you moved your comment~~

Daryl's gaze remained on Castiel's, but his body was shaking. Hard eyes blinking and unsure. Not at Castiel's words, but at Athena's.

(She'd been made. A doll or a puppet or something that was meant to look human but wasn't real. Turned real when she got here. Just starting to feel. Looked at Daryl like he was made of gold and the wings on his back weren't as dirty as the mountains he'd grown up in. Like they was as heavenly as the man he was holding claimed to be. Gave him hope when it was hard to hold onto. She was hurt by this. He'd hurt her. He didn't want to hurt her. He didn't know how not to. He wasn't worth what she was giving him with those eyes and that trust. All he was doing was tarnishing the light inside her.)

He sucked in a breath, hand tightening for a long moment before he broke the gaze and dropped his head. He stepped back, hand still fisted in Castiel's coat. It took him another few seconds to suck in a few breaths and relax his hand enough that he could unclench his fingers. Whether he liked it or not, he needed the physical connection of touching Cas on the chest. The literal, physical support. He was shaking too much.

When he did let his hand drop, he swayed just a bit. Drained from everything that had happened. Still, he was shaking his head. Trying to get moisture to a dry mouth as he croaked out his words.]

Didn't say he weren't real.

[Daryl's voice, though cracking some, was very gentle. Pleading almost. Trying to make his words as much as an apology as anything else.]

But he ain't an angel. He cain't be.

Edited 2016-02-21 02:09 (UTC)

[ It was a lot for him to deal with, all this conflict and emotion. Once upon a time, he'd have been able to hold his head up just fine, face down accusations that he wasn't real without batting an eyelid. He doesn't need to prove himself to them, shouldn't need to, except that after a week, this small group of survivors wasn't going anywhere, and the world around them was only becoming more hostile.

Between Athena's empathy, and Glenn's doubt, Castiel found himself at the center of a storm of emotion and doubt. It was overwhelming. Even with Dean's strong, protective presence behind him, it made him falter just a little, his eyelids dropping and opening again, blinking twice in rapid succession. His expression transformed from stern and defiant to soft and urgent. Daryl's desperation - "He can't be" - touched him more than anything else. He was so very afraid. His life, such as it was, couldn't lead to this moment, because of what it would mean about the moments that came before. His Father had a lot to answer for.

So when Daryl wobbled, Castiel raised his hand very carefully to rest it against his elbow, ready to catch him if he fell. ]

I know why you struggle to believe it. You don't have to, not for my sake, but you should for the sake of your people. [ He tips his head again, very slightly forward, so that the deep furrowing of his brow only looks deeper, more sincere. ] This isn't how I wanted things to be. Dean... [ He glances over his shoulder. ] He deserves to be around people, even if you wish to exile me.

[ Because obviously that was a solution. But Castiel knows exile, Castiel deserves it, and that's why he brings it up as a possibility at all. ]

I can fight. I can heal. I can look after myself.

[Glenn listened to Athena; no one was denying the guy being real. It was just about if he was an angel or not. That's what was unbelievable. Just like Daryl said. Glenn's attention flickered between the girl and his friend, getting it that the older man was more affected by her than the man claiming to be something he just couldn't be. He kept his thoughts to himself then, putting aside his own outlooks due to the fact he saw Daryl's body language. The way he held on to Castiel, the shaking. Whatever was going on in his friend's heart needed to be dealt with away from the one with such claims; where they could talk and go over what they'd been told. He would be there for Daryl, every step of the way - and he could deal with his own mystification in the same moments. Glenn brought his hand up around the same time that Castiel did, touching on Daryl's arm. Not in the same place as the supposed angel, but higher.]

Daryl, walk away for now.

[He looked over at Athena with a smile then.]

We're really not saying he isn't real; we're just not sure what to make of what he's saying he is.

[Eyes went to Castiel then, and he tilted his head.]

Banishment isn't on the table. That's not how we do things. You have a friend that trusts you and whatever you are, you aren't a spy like Daryl thought. There's more to talk about, but not now. This isn't a place to be alone, anyway.

[He leans in to Daryl, his tone soft but firm; taking the reigns of leadership from his friend's hands for the moment.]

Daryl, let's go.

[Daryl tensed up at the hand on his elbow, the emotional drain of the situation getting to him more and more. His eyes were on Athena. His situational awareness was focused on Castiel. He was barely cognizant of Glenn approaching. The hand on his upper arm got a slow head turn to look at it.

Exile.

That's not how we do things.

The words filtered through the mental fog and for a moment Daryl's mind reached back to another heated argument. When Rick told him he'd exiled Carol. He hadn't consulted anyone. Had just done it. They had the council then and Rick had just stepped back up, back in charge, and decided Carol was too dangerous.

That's not how we do things.

No, it wasn't. That had been a mistake on Rick's part. Daryl knew it then. Even as he knew now that Castiel's suggestion was stupid on top of stupid. He'd sooner beat the man into the ground (and he wasn't really up for it at the moment anyway) than leave him to fend for himself. No matter how strong or able to survive on his own he was. He wasn't going to just let someone go it alone if he could help it.

Daryl's eyes lifted from where they'd gone on unfocused on Athena. Moved to Castiel. To that imploring, pleading gaze. He stared for a long time, personally wounded by what he was being asked to believe. And he just couldn't.

He could let the man stay. He wasn't going to turn him out if he wasn't a spy. He wasn't going to stop him from trying to make the best of his life. He wasn't even going to stop him from trying to convince people of his delusions. But Daryl couldn't believe all that bullshit.

He swayed on his feet so his arm could drift away from Castiel's hand. When he turned on his heel, wearily sliding his knife into it's sheath, he lifted his other hand toward Athena and waved at her. Imploring her to follow him away from all of that. If she did, or didn't that was up to her. But he was asking.

Glenn had stepped up. He could deal with the talking for the rest of the day. Daryl was done with it.]

Edited 2016-02-21 17:07 (UTC)

[Athena felt torn. She wanted to stay and make Castiel find a way to prove to everyone he was an angel. Logically she knew it wasn't possible but she desperately wanted to believe he was telling the truth. She was a creation of science and innovation and didn't necessarily want to believe in God but she did want to understand how angels could possibly exist and why one was here with them.]

Have faith.

[The words are whispered to Castiel because she didn't want him to resign himself to a life of exile here. She knew that Daryl and Glenn would accept Castiel in time, and he just had to wait until that happened.

She tried smiling so Castiel would know she was on his side in this but it fell flat and she wound up pulling away so she could step back. Daryl had accepted her for what she was and she had faith that he would do the same for Castiel too. She believed so strongly in Daryl being a good leader that she was firm in her trust that he would be rational toward the supposed angel eventually.]

I'll come by the hotel to see you soon. Don't you dare think about exile again.

[Her tone was flat so that no one could tell the emotion that was under the surface. Her small hands tightened into fists as she backed away, keeping her eyes on Castiel. She knew Daryl was waiting for her so she turned and hurried over to him, her hand slipping in his to try and act as a form of comfort and security. There were things she could have told him but she recognized that he didn't want or need to talk right now. Words could come later once he had time to process everything that had just happened.]

[ "Have faith"? A terribly ironic thing to say, considering the situation. But his lips twisted wryly, responding more to her wish to reassure him than her own little smile. He had a companion on his side, too, and Dean would probably get him in the neck for even proposing the idea--he didn't know that it was less a gambit from Castiel's perspective than he'd made out.

He didn't retreat. Castiel held still and let Daryl pull away instead, before at last turning and walking back toward Dean. It was always strange to go through this. Some people believed, and others didn't, but often the situation didn't give them time to think about it, and they'd needed to face the reality in front of them.

Whether they come to believe or not doesn't matter. Dean is on his side; Dean, whom he moves to and reaches out - unexpectedly considering he's not much of a touchy feely sort of angel - to lay his hand on. It's shaking, just a little. The expression he shows the hunter is the same look that he'd given Dean just before flying away from him at the asylum, like he's about to run for the hills and never come back. His grip is a little too hard, a little too rough, craving reassurance. ]

Can we go?

[ Dean had become increasingly agitated throughout the whole heated stand-off, stern anger puffing through his nose with each exhale. Even if he knew that Castiel was more than able to hold his own, the fact of the matter was he was still being threatened, something that Dean didn't take lightly. His family was still being attacked. It was still Cas and while it mattered that he could protect himself - enough so to keep Dean frozen where he stood - Dean was overflowing with opinions of his own, opinions that he was inclined to shout at the top of his lungs while stomping a few faces with his boot.

Purgatory had done a number on his violent tendencies.

But finally Castiel turned back to him and the angel's expression, his wayward nerves, clashed against the edges of Dean's anger and for the first time he realized that his fingers had curled into fist. In comparison, Castiel's trembled just enough to be noticeable, the quiet weight of them on his shoulder enough to draw his attention closer. With a sharp exhale, Dean glanced over towards the backs of Daryl and his friend before he once more looked to Cas, subtle rage cracked across his features.

As long as i'm not taking you into exile, was the first thing Dean wanted to say. He hadn't missed an ounce of Cas' self-deprecation and the dwindling remnants of his anger told him to rub it in Castiel's face. But for some reason this had torn him up, had left him looking like a punished puppy crawling into hiding. Dean couldn't break him that much further and so he finally forced a sigh, his attention wholly on Castiel as he nodded back towards the hotel. ]

C'mon, might as well head back.

[ Dean may have had his eyes on the hotel, but Castiel had his feet squarely planted in the ground exactly where he was. The idea of going back into the hotel, being surrounded by any walls, or manmade things, filled him with trepidation.

He was afraid, and he knew where he wanted to be--surrounded by trees, plants, life, insects, out in the forest where nothing (except you know, all the flesh eating zombies) could hurt him.

And so he responded automatically, since Dean was letting him hold on to his shoulder, and he took flight silently, took Dean with him, and vanished off the spot. His compass was off - had been since arriving here - so while they flew cleanly away, seeming to vanish instantly from where they were standing, there was no real aim to their landing, and they reappeared perhaps thirty yards beyond the gates, beyond where the thick forest pressed in around them. ]

Not the hotel, [ He insisted, wordlessly handing his blade across to Dean. He didn't want to have to stab anything right now, but that didn't mean that he didn't understand that stabbing things might be crucial. But as he passes the blade he falters: ] Is this... Is this okay? I can send you back if you like.

[ Actually he didn't know if he could, he might just as easily teleport Dean into the lake. ]

[ The only reason Dean had eyes on the hotel was simply because it was a point of reference. There wasn't anywhere else he could immediately angle towards yet and he knew Cas was attempting to make it a hideaway of sorts. So it seemed like the obvious choice. Maybe too obvious.

But really, all of that just meant that he was even more caught off guard when Cas flew them out of the scene, not even offering enough time to warn him. Granted, he'd been dragged along enough times by Cas now that he only vaguely minded the sudden stomach churning shift in gravity, that wasn't the point when he just wanted to know why they were here instead of somewhere else. Somewhere not amongst the trees and nature and-- oh. Right. Yeah. Okay. It made sense.

Dean's brow furrowed as Cas began to hand over the blade and while Dean took it, it did so with slight hesitation. ]

Yeah, it's- uh, great, Cas. [ He cleared his throat and grasped the hilt a little more tightly, confidently. ] It's fine, i'm sticking around. You don't get to be by yourself right now.

[ And while Dean tried to make that sound authoratative, he knew there was only so much sway he held over the situation. That didn't mean he wanted Cas to exile himself for both of them - not at all. He wanted to keep an eye on the angel for any number of reasons and so he stood taller, looked significantly harder to push over, and tried to be Cas' pillar this time around. ]

[ Nature. It's true, Cas is very happy so long as he's surrounded by nature, and it makes him feel safe. He cocks his head upward, looking toward the trees above them. He doesn't even really respond to Dean's comment, but it's obvious from his expression that he's relaxed, some of the tension disappearing from his forehead. His eyes do narrow slightly, though; he's listening, squinting into the brightness, trying to fix on something up there.

The hum of bees.

He looks across toward Dean a moment later, and lowers his hand from his shoulder a second after that, only just realizing that he's still holding on. ]

Could we... [ A hopeful note in his voice. Like he's totally forgotten why they're out here in the first place. You know. All that posturing stuff and exile. He's so rude. ] Could we take the forest back to the hotel?

[ Watching Castiel carefully, Dean's gaze follows along after the angel's but somehow misses exactly what it is he's looking at. Dean blinks off into the distance, looking but not seeing, before finally glances directly at Cas, worry flashing across his features just long enough for it to be seen. But Cas finally removes his hand and asks his question, which... doesn't clear anything up. Dean's hands ease into his pockets and he can wholly feet the shift of the dirt underneath his feet, but it doesn't change the fact that he doesn't quite know what it is Castiel wants. ]

Uh- okay. Okay.

[ Tipping his head gently, looking at Cas like he'd forgotten just how careful he needed to be sometimes, Dean eased his voice along. ] What part are we bringing back?

[ He rocks back on his heel, then steps off into the underbrush, looking up every few seconds, following something only he can see. ]

Right at Peace. Straight on past Passion--

[ He stops, spins on his heel and goes back the other way, stopping again beside the big red flower. ] Passion.

[ He looks up again at the sky, and bites his lip for a moment, looking a little disappointed, a little lost, before pivoting back around again, not quite one hundred and eighty degrees. He steps away into the brush once more, and then barks with muted angelic delight: ] Hot Lips. Here you are.

[ A pinkish, slightly peachy flower with thick, viscous petals spread wide in the shape of puckered lips. A bee is crawling along the petal's edge, and Castiel comes over to crouch beside it. Up in the canopy above them is a low hum from his nest, loud enough that even Dean can hear them. ]

[ Okay, there's Cas being weird and then there's Cas being weird, and he's officially broken past the sound barrier. Strange flowers aside, Dean couldn't care less and maybe he should. He honestly doesn't know. All Dean can do is gawk, concerning furrowing his brow deeper and deeper until he's left glancing around himself, trying to get a grip on the situation but coming up empty handed. There is nothing he can do for Castiel at certain points and he knows it; it's something that tears him up inside.

It's all he can do to keep from shaking Cas until he somehow finds a way into his brain but for now all Dean does is wait, taking the occasional step forward and then one more, handing lifting outstretched. ]

Cas. Cas. The hell are you doing?

[ Dean is so unobservant. Castiel casts him one more glance, before dismissing it. Wasn't like Dean was really that interested in bees before, either. But there was nothing alive in the forests of Purgatory but the monsters, and Castiel had almost forgotten how beautiful they were, how beautiful everything was.

He reaches forward and catches the bee in mid-air, and then ever so gently places it on the back of his hand, raising it up where he can see it crawling toward him. ]

One little drone, blindly doing what he's told, until he's eaten by a bird or simply drops down dead from exhaustion, only to be replaced by another; an endless supply of workers serving unwritten rules with no idea why.

[ The little bee takes off, and flies up into the canopy. ]

Don't you envy them? They've never had free will, so they can't... [ Trailing off, now. ]

[ Dean knows he's unobservant when it comes to some things, but the important shit? That he sees. And right now, all he sees is Cas. All he sees is someone torn up inside, angel or not. While he might not fully understand, all he can look at is Cas, who's been frayed at the edges and peeled wide open in only the ways he can be. Dean goes from serious to concerned to worried in the span of seconds and he finally moves closer, trying to breathe easy and failing miserably at keeping the concern from his tone. ]

So they can't fuck it up- yeah, great. Good for them.

[ But he can't really care about the damn bees, even if Cas wants him to. If Cas wants to bring them along then fine, whatever - that's not the point. There's nothing there in all of that for him, though he knows what it is to follow someone blindly. Dean just doesn't see it staring him in the face when he looks at the little annoying bugs.

Instead, he sees it when he looks at the angel. ]

I am not replacing you. Doesn't that count for something, here? Or are you forgetting that part just to make this work to your advantage. [ He was trying to be stern, trying to get Castiel's attention, but he faltered within the span of seconds, his voice wavering worriedly as he moved in at Cas' side. Dean somehow wished he could make this feel better but he didn't know how when he couldn't figure out where it had all gone wrong. ]

Look- Cas. I'm kinda feelin' like I missed something back there, you're gonna have to clue me in.

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