It's the shove Castiel's been expecting, but it comes at the exact moment when he'd let his guard down. That's the only reason that he actually stumbles from it, arms flailing for a moment as he watches Dean stalk toward the door. Like a skittish animal he spooked.

Should have kept his hands to himself, clearly. He should have known he shouldn't try to make any sort of contact when he's nothing but a ghost to Dean right now.

It's still bizarre, because Dean had never screamed at him like this, borderline hysterical, like he's only barely holding the tattered remains of his soul in place. Castiel wants to reach in and put it all back together, like he did after Hell. He wants to make things right, even if they haven't gone wrong for him yet.

But this is a Dean who doesn't want or need his help, apparently, and what is he supposed to do with that? It's not something he's ever even considered, if he's honest.

"Where are you going to go? What are you going to do?"

Castiel doesn't want to let him leave, doesn't really see this conversation as over. He wants to pick Dean's mind for every detail, but really, he would rather hear it in Dean's own words. "Dean, I can help." Why not let him, while he's still here?