It had been pouring for over half an hour before Dean realized no one at the camp could remember the last time they'd seen Cas. He checked the cabin – no dice there – and got into his other self's face about why no one was looking.

Dean couldn't believe his ears when his counterpart's reaction was to ask, "Why should we?"

He felt his fingers twitch and told himself he could not strangle his incredibly douchey future self. For some reason. "Because he's missing."

Other Dean shrugged. "Yeah, he does that. Look, we can't send out the troops every time Cas wanders off, we'd never do anything else." He took a swig from the open bottle of Jack on the table. "You're so worried, go yourself. I've got enough to do."

The memory of belting himself right across the jaw for that kept Dean warm while he looked. He finally found Cas behind one of the dilapidated cabins at the edge of the camp, sitting on the ground with his back to wall, his eyes closed and face turned toward the sky. Dean rushed over but before he even got close enough to touch him Cas smiled. "Hello, Dean."

"Jesus, Cas, get up. You can't be out here in this...."

Cas laughed, the jagged wrongness of the sound going straight to Dean's spine. "Dean, despite what everyone's probably told you I'm not actually so messed up that I don't know to come in from the rain. I like it out here." He opened his eyes and looked up at Dean, one eyebrow raised. "You gonna stare at me forever or are you gonna sit?" Dean sat beside him, cold mud squelching beneath him. "Always did like the rain," Cas said. "It's...vital. It makes you alive. Makes you clean." He shrugged. "Well, it would if it wasn't polluted like this, anyway."

It was hard to not stare at this Cas. He kept trying to find his Cas (and when the hell had he started thinking like that, ,his Cas?) hiding in this other one's rough edges, wondering when that shift had happened and why he hadn't done anything about it.

"You didn't do this, Dean." Dean blinked, not understanding at first, and Cas shook his head. "This," he said, gesturing at himself. "Not your fault."

"Didn't do anything to stop it, did I?"

"Fuck." Cas pulled his legs up to his chest and pressed his face against his knees. "Dean, quit looking at me like I'm some puppy you kicked. No wonder you used to bitch so much when Sam pulled this on you."

Maybe so, but Dean still thought the rain wasn't cold enough for Cas to be shaking this much. "Dude. You okay?"

Cas nodded. "Coming down a bit. I'll be good once the oxy kicks in." He looked at Dean and grinned, his head still resting on his knees. "You should see the look on your face. I forgot what it was like when you gave a shit." He looked back up at the sky, rain plastering his hair back and flowing down his face in rivulets. "How long do you have here before Zachariah decides you've learned your lesson?"

"Three days. Well, three then, more like one and a half now."

Cas took a long pull from the vodka bottle beside him. "Do me a favor then?"

Dean blinked. "Sure. Shoot."

"When you meet back up with the other me, I need you to give him a message." Dean nodded, ready to remember whatever prophecy or wisdom Cas wanted him to take back to the past.

So Dean was entirely unprepared for Cas to lunge forward and kiss him. When on pure instinct he opened his mouth to the kiss Cas shuddered and pressed closer, his hands cold and trembling to the point that Dean pressed his own over them. Cas finally pulled back like someone had a gun to his head, breaking the kiss with a desperate little whimper that gave Dean the horrible impression that Cas was about to cry. "Just..." he started, his voice cracking before he cleared his throat and got back under control. "Tell him not to wait so damn long to do that this time around."