Too nice, too clean, too white, too green
little haters, big dreams
I don't care what you think about me
Two face old friends told me the end was near
(Supernatural, 8x19 related, Dean and Angels, 310 words)
It was easy to forget that he didn’t actually know what Cas looked like. It was easy to forget that Cas didn’t really look like a middle-aged dark-haired blue-eyed man... but that was only the face they saw.
Zachariah had told them once that he had four faces, one of which was a lion. Dean wondered how many faces Cas had, not including Jimmy’s.
Dean felt as though he had seen a few of them already. He remembered the cold words upon their second meeting, where Cas had threatened to throw him back into the pit. He remembered the sneaky smirk as Cas told him that prophets were protected by archangels. He remembered the desperate worry that he had seen once in a dream about fishing. In a future that hadn’t happened, he remembered Cas, smelling of drugs and sex, following another Dean to his doom. He remembered Cas calling him a pet, an ant, and slaughtering hundreds, thousands... in earth and heaven... and he had blamed it afterward on the leviathan, but Dean knew that deep down, that had also been Cas.
That was the problem with angels – they have too many faces. And Dean was only ever able to see whatever poor bastard had been foolish enough to say yes.
But even so, he’d heard this song before – the careful words, the false kindness, and the plea for sympathy. It all smacked of another angel, telling him the end was nigh, and resistance was futile – and Dean had almost fallen for it too, almost, except he’d thankfully come to his senses and stabbed that bastard in the face.
So, maybe she implied that he couldn’t trust Cas... and maybe Dean couldn’t come up with a reason to do so anyway. Her strategy was flawed though – even if he couldn’t trust Cas, that didn’t mean that he would trust her.