Castiel is not stalling, no matter what Uriel (who is grumbling less than quietly behind him) might believe. He is merely assessing the situation. Stalling will only prolong the sense of discomfort that this whole situation has elicited
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Well, really.
Who else were they gonna send?
Anna looks at both her brothers for a moment and then turns her attention back fully to Castiel.
"I like the vessel. It's a good look for you.
"The Man in the Coat."
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Not so much in years, but in all that happened in those years.
He can practically feel Uriel buzzing with Get on with it, already impatience, but Castiel ignores it. This task was given to him to do, and (by God) he will do it his way.
As soon as he figures out what that is.
"I wish that I could say it's good to see you."
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Anna is still more or less ignoring him.
"Half a lifetime," Anna says.
If one is rounding.
And talking about her (human) lifetime.
"And it's far too late for it to be good for us to see each other, isn't it?"
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Happier (or at least less difficult) moments at the End of the Universe aside.
Castiel steps forward a pace or two, closing some of the physical distance between them at least.
"I am sure you know why I'm here."
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Dammit, Ruby, where are you?
"Forget that," Sam says, tightly. He addresses Castiel, but keeps an eye on Uriel as he talks.
(Too bad Anna hadn't been able to help them get hold of some weapon that works against angels. The way he's feeling right now, Sam doesn't think he'd have any problem using it.)
"How are you here, is what I want to know. How'd you find us?"
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And then looks directly at Dean.
He'll give him the chance to speak up of his own accord if he wishes to take it.
Without Dean they would never have found them so easily.
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Call it nervous tension.
Call it guilt.
Call it sheer gut-stopping terror.
At least half of 'em wouldn't be wrong.
He swallows, hard, looking at Sam, looking at Anna, then looking away again.
He's definitely not looking at their angel overlords.
"I don't know what you want me to say. Ain't like an explanation's gonna change anything, anyhow."
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"Sure, Dean, let's trade stories. You first. How was hell? Don't spare the details."
"Yeah, well, maybe one might be good to have anyway, did you ever think of that?"
He couldn't control either the tension beneath his words or the way his voice cracks if he wanted to.
"Why, Dean?"
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"Because, Sam, they gave him a choice. Kill me, or kill you.
"That's how they think. Trust me, I know."
She didn't used to be half bad at it, herself.
"Cut to the heart of the matter and then twist the knife."
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"You know we have no choice," he says to Anna. "You are a liability."
She never should have been. She had been one of the best. But she is, pure and simple.
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Who it's directed at may remain a little unclear.
"You guys are all about the liabilities, aren't you."
It's not the only thing making him sick, sure. Not that that changes anything, either.
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"Dean," Anna says quietly, with a very slight shake of her head.
"This isn't your fault. We gambled and we lost.
"That's all."
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His smile's way on the other side of pathetic, but at least he tries.
(His mouth's still so damn dry.)
"Doesn't mean I have to like it."
Or that Anna does.
Goddammit.
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Her smile is slightly stronger.
"Thank you. For everything. Not just the past couple days, everything."
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His smile quirks up at one corner, just for a second or two.
This really fucking sucks.
It's gonna suck even if they don't all die, right here and now.
And not just because Dean's probably the only one that'd be getting out of it alive.
"You've really given' em hell."
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And then she turns back to Castiel, and she's definitely not smiling any more.
"All right.
"Enough.
"No more running, no more hiding.
"I'm ready."
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