[ Which makes it sound like an excuse, a stupid excuse, and Castiel doesn't have the strength to look at Dean when he turns to face him. He's focused on his chest, the start of his throat at his collarbone. His face is wet, and even after all this time, it's still strange. Crying. It'd almost always been reflex before, in too much physical pain to really control it.

Now, everything hurts, and he just wants to be numb. ]

I already have the best thing you can give me. [ You, his brain screams. You, you, you. ] But you keep trying to take it from me.

[ And there's heat to the words, something deep in the way his entire body shudders as he tries to reach for composure again. Except it's not there anymore, long since gone the moment he'd walked in and found Dean rushing to get his things before he could see it. This is far from acceptable, trembling with it, and he wants to explain how he hadn't coped. He'd wanted to be there with him, wanted to be dead too.

He lifts his head and leans in, stretching in the most uncoordinated way so that their foreheads bump. Castiel squeezes his eyes shut. ]

Without you, I have nothing. No reason, no will. [ A breath, and it's hot between their faces. ] Even after doing what I had to, I fought knowing you would come back. And I will keep fighting until you understand that I can't be torn from you. I--

I don't want to be your shadow or someone you think you need to save. I want to stand next to you, and I want to be with you.

[ Castiel touches his lips to the corner of Dean's mouth, ignoring the bitter tang of salt from his tears as he continues to stand there. Their noses brush, and he can feel himself close to losing it completely. ]

... I go where you go.