A/N: Okay...I have no idea where this came from? Other than in my head? Castiel was pissed at how Anna described him and the other Angels in the episode. So he started to talk...and this was born. I hope it makes sense, cause the Cas in my head? Is sweet and caring...not cold and blindly obediant.

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Some coffee, some M&M's, maybe even a burrito if Dean could find one that didn't look like it had been made sometime in the last century, then sat in a chiller waiting to be micro-waved back to soggy goodness. It wasn't too much to ask was it? Not after everything they'd just been through…after the talk he'd had with Sammy earlier that day.

The kid had kept his mouth for the most part, except for trying to tell him that he'd lasted longer than most people would have. It was meant to comfort Dean, he supposed. Make him think he'd done well to last thirty years…but did that absolve him of the souls he'd torn apart? Desperate to spare himself from any more pain, from being sliced apart in increments, while Alastair laughed about how Sam would be next? Or worse…how Sam would be there one day to take over and make Dean bleed himself?

But how could Dean ever feel anything but disgust with his own weakness? He should have fought longer. Should have taken the pain, the torment instead of breaking.

Had they broken his father during his time in Hell? Dean would never know…

Pushing open the door of the 7-11, Dean headed straight for the coffee machine and chiller, deciding to grab a couple of burritos in case Sam was hungry too. The kid should have something in his stomach. Dean had left him downing a good part of a bottle of Johnnie Walker back at the motel.

He wanted to drink himself. Just blast back that bottle and drown his sorrows in a alcohol soaked binge that left him unable to recall what day it was.

But it solved nothing and the hangover that followed was a bitch.

Juggling both a cup of black liquid that they had labelled coffee but looked more like something from the Exxon Valdez and a handful of hot burritos, Dean slipped the clerk at the counter a couple of notes to cover the cost. He used his butt to nudge the door open, since his hands were full right then and headed back to the Impala.

The food and coffee was sat on the roof as Dean unlocked the driver's door. He picked it up and dumped the burritos on the seat next to him, nursing the coffee between his legs once he was in the car.

Ten minutes? And Dean would be back in the motel room with Sam, making sure his little brother didn't pass out on the floor and ended up in bed where he'd be more comfortable, while he watched crappy tv and tried not to sleep.

Sleep always brought the nightmares, the memories of blood, flesh torn open like tissue paper by his own hands as he tried to ignore the screams of the people suffering in his place.

Staring up the Impala, Dean glanced in the rearview mirror, recalling for just a moment, the time he'd shared with Anna in the backseat. All sorts of stupid brag lines and dirty jokes sprung into his head unbidden about how he'd bagged himself an Angel. It made Dean wonder what was next for him? What the hell would compare with knowing you'd screwed an Angel? A perfect being?

"She wasn't perfect."

Dean jumped, spilling coffee on his leg in the process. He hissed in pain and moved the offending cup, rubbing at his jeans as he swung a glare towards Castiel who was now sitting beside him, staring out the windscreen. "You ever knock? I swear, you need a fucking bell, Cas."

Castiel turned to Dean, his large blue eyes full of disappointment. "You're angry."

"Angry? I'm pretty damn far from angry, Cas. You could have told me what the deal was with Anna. You could have trusted me instead of just showing up telling me that you needed to gank an innocent girl for being an Angel in a past life."

"Trust? You want to talk about trust? You trusted Anna over me. You would sooner listen to her side of events than mine. Where's my trust, Dean? I pulled you out of Hell. I have done everything I can to guide you towards what you need to do and I have never lied to you. Yet you chose Anna's version of events to believe."

"Version of events? What the hell are you talking about? She'd fallen…she wanted to know what it was like to be human…and for that, you want to kill her? What other version is there of that? Cause I'm listening…" Dean retorted, sick of being left in the dark.

Castiel's face was unreadable as he began, looking back out the windscreen again, watching the human life moving around them outside, oblivious to what was in their midst. "You honestly believe that Anna fell to earth because she wanted to be human? Because you can feel emotions while we are cold and obedient?" He glanced at Dean, watching the way his words --Anna's words-- were sinking in.

"How'd you know she said that?"

"We are always watching you, Dean. Even if we can't be there to protect you."

"Wait…always? Like even when…."

Castiel's lips quirked into a smile for a moment before it was gone. "There are some moments we afford you privacy and look away."

Dean raised an eyebrow, not entirely sure he was comforted by that. Man, he'd have to start thinking more about what they were seeing. Who was watching. "Nice to know...thanks. So what are you saying? She was lying?"

"In a sense." Castiel nodded. "Angel's do not simply fall, Dean. They are tempted. They are corrupted. Why else would I have told you she was guilty? It wasn't merely a case of her finding the grass greener on the other side…"

"Really? Cause she didn't exactly paint the rosiest picture of God, if you know what I mean? Not letting his Angel's see him, expecting them to work on blind faith, to obey or be destroyed…" Dean pointed out. It didn't sit well with him to think of Anna being sent back to that sort of existence.

"And what of your own father, Dean? Do you love him?" Castiel looked at Dean now, his blue eyes all but burning into him.

"What? What the hell sort of question is that?"

"A very valid one, given what you said to Anna. You equate your own father with how she described God? You would willing follow a man that cold, that unfeeling? You are willing to obey without question or suffer his wrath?" Castiel's tone was deeper now as he pressed for answers.

"It's not like that."

"No?"

"No! My father wasn't perfect, but he loved me! I know that. Even when everything went to shit, I always knew he loved me. That he was looking out for me and Sam. He told me, he showed me when he could. So yeah…it's not like that at all." Dean was on the defensive now, even though he knew he had been hard on his father's memory that night with Anna. "He did the best he could…"

"Why would my Father being any different?"

"What?" Dean gave Castiel a confused look.

"Why would I love a Father who did not love me in return?" Castiel said pointedly, his gaze firmly on Dean. "We cannot feel emotions as a human will. You are flawed, imperfect. You love too hard, too fast. You give into anger too quickly and are slow to forgive at times. But you feel all these emotions as sharply as the blade of a knife. We cannot feel them the same way…but we do feel them. God is not cold and distant, Dean. He is not some strange force that I have been asked to have blind faith in. I have seen my Father. He is known to all his children and we to him. He is loving and compassionate."

"Then why would Anna--.."

"Would you have helped her if she had told you the truth? That she fell to Earth, not because she was enticed by emotions she could not feel…but by the promises of Alastair? That she was seduced by lust, by the want of carnal pleasures…by her selfish desires to do as she wished and gain for herself? Anna fell to Earth to feed those desires, Dean. That was why Alastair wanted her. Why she wanted you to help her find her grace. She…played you?" Castiel lifted an eyebrow, unsure if he had the term right, but continuing as he saw the look on Dean's face. "We received word that there was going to be a turncoat in our midst, a double agent. Anna became that when she ascended again. She has concealed herself in our ranks and it will take time to find her…but we will find her before she is able to do too much harm."

Dean didn't know what to think. Castiel had never lied to him before…that was true. "You're serious, aren't you? Anna was working with Alastair?"

"Who do you think showed her the blood spell? Why Uriel spoke of her being worse than that demon your brother continues to work with?" There was clear distaste in his voice at the mention of Ruby.

"Cause Uriel's a dick?"

Castiel allowed another brief smile to curl the corner of his lips, before it died and he continued. "A traitor in our ranks could seriously turn the tide of this war, Dean. We're fighting on every front as it is, losing ground because the demons are getting smarter, finding ways to undermine us."

"So….what? You came down here to tear me a new one for letting the team down?"

"No. I came to ask you to trust me. To give me, the same trust you gave Anna. I'm asking you to have faith…"

"In God? I'm not sure I'm ready to do that…or willing. Not yet." Dean shook his head. "There's too many questions I haven't got answers to yet."

"And you will, in time." Castiel assured him. He became silent for a moment, looking out the window again. The silence in the car grew with each beat of Dean's heart until Castiel spoke again. "You had faith in your father, Dean. That he would protect you. You listened to him and trusted that what he taught you was right. I only ask that you consider giving me the same. Find your faith, Dean…it will protect you and your brother."

With that, Dean found himself alone in the Impala again. He took a moment, hearing nothing but his breath, his heart pounding in his ears, before he started up the car and headed back to Sam.

Opening up the motel room door, he was careful not to disturb the salt line as he entered and threw his brother a burrito. "Get some food into your stomach, Sammy. I need you sharp in the morning."

"Huh? Why?" Sam looked at Dean blearily, well on his way to being incoherent.

"Cause we've got some research to do…" Dean explained off handedly. He picked up a book off the table. One of the many tomes they'd taken lately from Bobby's place. Sitting down on his bed, Dean opened up the book, looking at the stylistic painting that adorned one page of an Angel falling towards the earth, flames encircling it's body as it descended.

He wasn't going to be duped again and that son of a bitch Alasdair was going down. Going down for good.