"Wait a sec." Dean stood up from his chair, hands cuffed in front of him. The guard paused in escorting the man Dean called Cas out of the room. Cas turned to face Dean, a small smile on his lips. He didn't seem surprised when Dean grabbed the lapels of his trench coat and pulled him in for a kiss. "You won't sit in a cell long, Cas, I'll see you soon."

Cas smiled at the suspected murderer, his eyes twinkling. "I know, Dean. You take care of yourself too, though. There have been enough beatings in custody to last you a lifetime. I don't want to add this one to the list." He leant in to run his nose along Dean's jaw before he turned back to the guard and allowed the man to lead him outside.

Doctor Sweets stared. Of all of the different ways he had tried to interpret their relationship that had certainly not been one of the scenarios. Dean did not seem the sort to allow open affection with anyone, let alone a partner, let alone a male partner. It made Sweets wonder how they had met, for Dean to be so comfortable with affection, and to be the one to instigate it.

Booth was staring at the door Cas had left through. "Does he know everything you've been accused of Dean? A man like that does not seem the sort to forgive and forget multiple counts of murder…"

Dean leant back in his chair, relaxed now that he had seen Cas for himself. "Cas knows about everything I've ever done, or been accused of doing. He knows me better than I know myself." His eyes darkened for a moment with horror before he fought it away again. "And yet somehow…somehow he still sees me. He can see me more clearly than I see myself."

Sweets leant forward in interest. In past interrogations Dean had always seemed cocky to the point of narcissism. Now he seemed to not like himself at all. Seemed horrified by himself. "What happened, that makes you unclear on who you are Dean?" he kept his voice gentle, non-confronting. His 'shrink voice' as Booth called it.

Dean shook his head, trying to keep the memories at bay. "Too many things. Things done to me, things I've done, things I didn't do…" his voice trailed off as the memories swamped his mind. He was accustomed to nightmares, used to looking over his shoulder, but he had yet to get the hang of these daytime horrors flooding his brain.

Before Booth or Sweets could do anything about the fact Dean was sucked in by his memories, Cas was standing beside the young hunter. Appearing, apparently, out of thin air. He placed a gentle hand carefully on his shoulder and squeezed gently. "Dean? Dean, I need you to come back." His voice was quiet, but gruff.

It took a moment but eventually Dean blinked slowly and stared intently at Cas. He took a deep breath and let it out noisily. "Well…that's not getting any better, is it?" he grimaced, leaning closer to Cas. He ignored Sweets and Booth, and the gun the agent had trained on Cas, for a moment before turning to face them. "Don't mind Cas – he has trouble staying put when I get lost in my head."

He tugged on the side of Cas' coat, guiding him to sit on the table beside Dean. "We need to talk to Missouri, Dean. She might know how to…fix it." His words were stilted, as if he was unsure of bringing up Missouri.

Dean's face paled considerably, enough to make Booth wonder if he should consider taking him to a hospital. "Cas, she…I haven't…" he took a deep breath, giving up on trying to find the words.

Cas rubbed a soothing hand up and down Dean's arm. "I know, she hasn't seen you since before you…went away. She understands you though, Dean, she'll understand why you did it." He paused for a moment, letting his words sink in. "She never judged you for your protectiveness of Sam, Dean. She accepted it from the start. She will accept this too."