Over the next few weeks, things get better. Sam only prays to him twice more before seemingly giving up, which is a relief. He hasn't heard from either of the Winchesters since, though he's spoken to Hannah more times than he can count — both over the phone and in person. She prays to him every night, and though he never calls her then because she's supposed to be asleep, he listens intently to every word. It's grown to become his favorite ritual.
Castiel doesn't stop making mistakes. He's sure he never will. Sometimes, people have died because of them, and he knows that. But at the same time, he's saved countless people, and Emma and James won't let him forget it. They must have figured out that the Winchesters guilt tripped him for every mistake, because he's never met a more forgiving or appreciative group of people.
He's never missed his angelic powers more than he does now. Emma and James are amazed every time he does anything supernatural, and he's showered with praise every time he heals someone. He wishes he could do more, now that everything he does is held in such high regard.
Overall, things are going pretty well. They take on case after case, and he's never felt so productive in his hunting life. There's no catch-22 to his every move. Every good thing he does isn't followed by something bad. He could get used to this life.
The three of them are in a motel for the night, though they're all too wrapped up in research about chimeras to even think of going to bed. Occasionally, someone will spit out a fact about them — they can fly; they can breathe fire; their biggest weakness is ice.
"So are we supposed to stab it with an icicle?" Emma asks sarcastically.
"Honestly, that looks like our best bet," James says.
"Shoot it with an ice gun and pray for the best?" Emma suggests.
"I like the ice sword more, but to each their own," James says.
"Cas, you're the tie breaker," Emma says, and every time he hears her use his nickname, he can't help but smile. She was reluctant at first, but when he assured her that abbreviating an angel's name is not offensive, she started using it regularly. "Ice sword or ice gun?"
"Neither sounds very efficient," Castiel says. "The gunpowder would melt the gun, and the impact would break the sword, not to mention that both would melt in your hands —"
"Okay, okay, stop being smarter than us," Emma says.
"But hypothetically," James adds, "ice sword or ice gun?"
"Um..." Castiel thinks for a moment. They both have their advantages. Long distance and bad accuracy versus close range and good accuracy isn't an easy decision. But he has been using an angel blade since the beginning of time — literally — so he's partial to that. "I guess I'd rather have —"
Cas, buddy, I really fucked up.
"Dean," Castiel whispers. He hasn't heard from Dean since he walked out. He didn't think he'd ever have to hear his voice again. And right as he was finally moving on, too.
"Dean was not an option," Emma says.
I'm sorry, man. I've been a dick. I know I've been a dick. We both know I've been a dick. And I'm so, so sorry, Cas. More than you could ever know.
But you gotta come home.
"Yoo-hoo!" Emma waves a hand in front of his face. "Anybody home?"
"Just —" Castiel pushes her hand away as he stands up, and, without a word, he walks out of the motel. He sits down on the stairs by the door, propping his head up on his knees. If he's going to listen to this, he needs to do it alone, and this is as alone as he's going to get.
I don't even know where to begin, man. An apology? I know it doesn't mean a damn thing, but I'm really sorry. I am. I never should have let you go. I don't even know why I did. I don't know why I get so angry. I just do, and I always have, and when things go bad... But I didn't mean to take it out on you, Cas. It wasn't your fault. None of it was your fault. I know that now.
We miss you, Cas. I miss you. I miss you and I'm sorry and I just want you back. You know my number. I don't care where you are right now. Call me and I'll come pick you up. I just need to see you.
And I know that's all I got, and you're probably living your best life fishing every day or filling slushie machines or whatever and you probably don't care, but if there's any chance that you might want to come back, please, Cas, do it. I'll be better, I promise. I'll be nicer. I'll hold myself to it. I don't care if things aren't going my way. I'm not going to take it out on you.
Just come back.
Castiel doesn't know when his eyes started tearing up, but by the time Dean's gone, he's full-on sobbing. He knew there was a chance he'd hear from Dean eventually, but he wasn't expecting this. He got an apology. Not just a "sorry, now let's go" type apology, but a real, heartfelt apology. He admit he messed up. He promised to do better.
Through all the fights they've had, Dean has never apologized to this extent. It's enough to make Castiel want to give in and call him, to go back, to let things go back to how they used to be. And even though he knows he didn't like how things used to be, and he knows he'd be miserable if he did, the temptation is strong.
"Cas? What's wrong?"
Castiel shields his face as Emma sits down by his side. He'd be surprised if she couldn't tell he was crying, but that doesn't mean he wants to admit it.
"What's going on?" Emma asks again.
Castiel shakes his head. He takes a deep breath to calm himself down, then says, "Nothing that concerns you," his voice monotonous and bland.
"Anything that has my best friend in tears concerns me," she says. "Cas, talk to me. Did we do something wrong? Why'd you up and leave?"
Castiel doesn't answer at first. He probably shouldn't answer at all. He's been trying his best to keep the Winchesters separate from his new hunting partners these last few weeks, and, other than the occasional slip up or comparison, he does that just fine. He'd like to keep it that way. But he's learned his lesson more times than he can count — keeping secrets never ends well.
"It was Dean," Castiel says finally. "He prayed to me."
"Doesn't he do that every couple weeks anyway?" Emma asks, proving that she has no concept of time, and that she can't tell the two apart.
"No, Sam does," Castiel says. "Dean's been ignoring me since I left — since before I left, even."
"Then he missed the last train out of Cas Station," Emma says with a shrug. "Sucks to be him, but he had it coming. What's he talking about now?"
Castiel looks down at his hands. "He apologized. He asked me to come home."
"And again I say, sucks to be him, because he had his chance and now you're moving on." When she realizes Castiel isn't as dismissive about the situation, her voice softens. "Are you really going back to him?"
"I want to," Castiel says quietly. "I really, really do." They're his home. They've been his home since he fell. They've been through everything together.
"If you think you'll be happier there, I won't try to stop you," she says, "but you and I both know you won't be. You'd be better off living on the streets by yourself than dealing with their shit."
"But what if I would?" Castiel asks. "Dean said he's sorry, that he's going to change. And he really believes it."
"Do you believe it?"
Castiel looks over at her, and she gives him a half shrug as if to say, "it is what it is." He smiles slightly, but it's a sad smile. He's noy sure who he's sad for — himself? The Winchesters? Emma and James, for having put up with him and his mess? Maybe he's sad for all of them. There's not a single one he should be happy for, but there are two he should be grateful for — not the two in Kansas, but the two who have never been anything but kind to him.
"I don't," he says finally. "I don't think he can change."
And though he knows it's for the best, somehow, this hurts just as much as when he first made the choice to leave. He didn't think anything could be more painful than knowing Dean was watching him walk away, and knowing Dean didn't care enough to stop him. But he's now realizing that making the choice to stay away when Dean finally did speak up is impossibly harder.
Emma leans against his arm, resting her head against his shoulder gently. "I can't imagine how hard it is to choose between the two of us, but I hope you know I'm really, really proud of you for letting go of the past. It only gets better from here."
Castiel puts his arm around her shoulders and lifts his gaze to the sky. He's seen the stars more times than he can count. He's seen the stars when the sky held an entirely different group of them. But he's never really taken the time to enjoy the sight.
He can't help but wonder if the Winchesters are watching them, too, from their home in Kansas. And maybe they're wondering the same thing about him.