Cas gestured for Steve to follow him into the backroom that had become something of both an area of recreation and meeting for him and the other hunters, though their numbers had been lessened some by the departures of both Sam and his twin. He moved the pieces of the shotgun that were on Steve's side of the table and placed them on the small counter top beside the refrigerator.
"I saw you also," he replied, somewhat contrite that his injuries had all been superficial. "Some of the manouevres you managed in the heat of battle were very impressive, though I admit my attention was divided. Had I known you would be attacked, I would have watched closer. For that, you have my apologies."
Dean had often described Cas' approach to battle conditions as cold and had been confused by Cas' tendency to get overtly invested in whomever he was attempting to save from the supernatural offender of the week, but the fact remained that one could only get so personal when one was at war. On a one on one basis, things changed. Cas had changed. Nothing ever stayed the same, or at least, that was his understanding of it. "But in terms of victory you are correct. We...killed many demons and they will no longer be able to cause grief, though...these new conditions will obviously take time to acclimate to."
He ducked into the small refrigeration unit where beer and Buffy's Red Bull was kept. "Do you have any preferences?" he asked.