Hey guys! I had the inspiration for this a while ago while re-watching some old episodes and thought I'd share to see what you think. I'm not entirely sure where in the timeline this takes place, really it's just a few bits and pieces from here and there, so don't get mad if the continuity isn't perfect. Just thought we could all use some more Castiel funtimes! Enjoy!

SamPOV

Sitting beside Dean in the bunker, we search for new cases. Well, I'm searching for new cases. Dean has been zoned out for the better part of an hour. "Hey, here's something," I remark. "Stillwater, Minnesota. Three girls claim they saw patrons at a bakery fly around the room before impaling themselves on the baking equipment. Sounds suspicious to me. What do you think?" The only response is a noncommittal grunt. "Oh, look at this one," I tease him. "Aliens land on earth; break their friends out of Area 51."

"Yeah…sounds great, Sammy," he mumbles absently.

I roll my eyes. "Hey look, it's Castiel!"

Dean jumps, looking around bewildered for a minute as I laugh. "Goddammit. That's not funny Sam!"

"I don't know, it was pretty funny from over here," I chuckle. "Come on man, this is getting pathetic. I know you miss your boyfriend or whatever, but you're pining after him like a lost puppy. I thought that was his job."

Dean lets a growl slip through his teeth. "Will you shut up with the 'boyfriend' thing? You know it's not like that. I'm just…worried about him. He's our friend, and he hasn't been answering our calls for days. That isn't usually a sign of anything good, Sam."

I shrug. It's not the first time our favorite angel has pulled a disappearing act. "He probably just lost his phone again, Dean," I assure him. "I'm sure Castiel is just fine, wherever he is. But if you're so worried, why don't you just pray to him? He always comes when you call."

"Don't you think I…?" Dean starts before the venom leave his voice. "I tried," he mutters, defeated. "Two days ago. Nothing."

I hesitate. That's highly unusual for Castiel. Whatever goes on between them, Cas always answers Dean's prayers if he can. I realize that Dean could be onto something. "Well…maybe he just…didn't hear you. I don't know. I'm sure he's okay. He's always okay."

Dean shakes his head. "I don't know, Sammy. Something doesn't feel right this time. The hair on the back of my neck has been standing up for days. I just…I think something happened to him."

All of his usual bravado leaves Dean's voice with this last sentence, and I sigh. "Well…if it means that much to you, we'll go look for him. Get packing." Dean nods gratefully, beginning to throw his belongings into a bag. Suddenly, there's a soft knock on the door. I open it slowly, shocked at what I see. A pale, bloodied Cas stands on the other side, leaning against the doorframe to keep himself upright. "Hello, Sam," he murmurs. Dean turns at the familiar voice, gasping when he sees his friend. The angel lurches into the room, steadying himself against the furniture. "You…called?" he says.

Dean hesitates for a moment before slowly approaching him. "Jesus Christ Cas, what happened to you?"

Slowly, the familiar blue eyes meet mine, and there's something in them I've never seen there before. I realize that our stoic friend is terrified. "Nothing," Castiel answers quickly, looking away. "I'm fine."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Yeah, you look really fine."

The angel searches his face curiously for a moment. "Was that…sarcasm?"

"No," Dean scoffs, "I think you look healthy enough to enter the Iron Man competition."

"Then perhaps maybe you need to have your eyes examined." As usual, there was no humor in his voice.

"No, I…I didn't…that…" Dean sighs. "Yes, it was sarcasm. You look awful. Are you going to tell us what happened or not?"

Castiel looks down, suddenly interested in the carpet. "I only came to answer your call," he murmurs softly. "If you are no longer in need of me, I will go."

"Goddammit Cas, if you don't tell us what the hell is going on right now…" Dean starts angrily. I cut him off before he can scare the poor guy away.

"I think what Dean is trying to say," I say gently, keeping my voice low and calm, "is that we want to help, but we can't do that if you won't talk to us."

Cas hesitates, his resolve slowly breaking down. "I just…got into a bit of an altercation. That's why it took me so long to answer your prayer. I was too weak to 'poof' as you call it, and without the ability to fly, it took longer than I anticipated. I apologize."

"What do you…?" Dean starts, then stops when I nudge him. He takes a breath, his tone softening. "What do you mean 'without the ability to fly'? Why can't you fly, Cas?"

Dean looks over at me, and I know that the angel's evasiveness is starting to worry him as much as it worries me. Castiel looks up at him for a moment, debating, before sighing softly. "It was a group of demons," he murmurs. "I had been looking for them, but…they found me instead. There was an…incident, and as a result, my wings seem to be…broken."

He grows paler and more defeated as we absorb this. What does 'broken' mean when the subject is an angel's wings? "But they should be healing, shouldn't they?" I ask.

Castiel nods, taking a step and stumbling again. Dean catches him before he hits the ground. He sets the angel down on the couch gently. "Normally, I would heal myself," he explains. "But the wings are a manifestation of my Grace. They, and it, are too damaged to repair on my own. I…" he hesitates, and his next words sound like a child's. "I think I need help."

I nod, moving to clap his shoulder comfortingly, but he flinches away from me. "Okay," I murmur, using the same calm tone I'd use with a frightened animal or child. "We'll help you. Dean, why don't you find the emergency kit and I'll help him to his room?"

Dean nods, looking for the kit while Castiel limps down the hall, gripping my arm tightly. "I apologize for this inconvenience," he murmurs.

I smile. "You don't have to apologize. We don't mind. We're family." This seems to comfort him slightly, and I set him down gently on the bed, assuring him that I'll be back before returning to Dean. "Alright," I whisper, keeping my voice low, "What the hell are we going to do?"

"I don't know, Sam!" Dean hisses back. "I don't know how to fix people, much less angels."

I sigh. "Well we can't let him know that. He needs us. Actually, he needs you. I have a feeling he's not going to like this, and you're the only one who might be able to keep him calm."

"And how am I supposed to do that?" he asks. "I'm just as scared as he is!" he slams his hands down against the table in frustration. "Where the fuck is the emergency kit?!"

I grab his shoulders, forcing him to stop for a moment. "Dean," I murmur, "Cas needs you. You have to calm down or you'll freak him out."

He nods reluctantly. "I know, I know. I'm sorry. So what do we do?"

I consider it. "I guess we'll just have to talk to him and see what he thinks the best options are. At the very least, with his Grace damaged, we'll have to clean his wounds and probably set the bones in his wings."

Dean pauses, thinking. "Do his wings…have bones?"

I shrug. "I don't know, I've never seen them. But there must be something there if they're broken. Let's go see what we can find out."

We walk down the hall, knocking softly on the door before slowly entering. Being left to his own devices, it's clear that the pain of his injuries is starting to get to the battered angel, the discomfort as clear as day on his face. He looks up at us as we enter. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, everything is okay. How are you holding up?" Dean asks, carefully sitting beside him.

Castiel hesitates. "Um…not so well, I think," he answers. "I believe this is the longest I've ever experienced what you call pain. Does it always get worse the longer it goes on?"

"Sometimes," I answer softly. "But we're going to fix it. Cas, have you ever heard of this happening to anyone else?"

He thinks for a moment. "Yes. Not often, but it has happened before."

Dean sighs in relief. "Okay. How did those people fix their Grace?"

Cas winces. "I believe they, um…had to do things the human way. Their Grace healed once their injuries did. I don't suppose that's a good thing for me, is it?"

Dean hesitates. "Um…Well on the bright side, you'll get to hang out with us for a while."

I nod, forming a plan of action. "The sooner we get you fixed up, the sooner the pain will stop. We can either start with your wings, or with…everything else. It's your choice."

"Everything else. Please," the angel requests.

I share a look with Dean, surprised at this. I assumed the thing causing him the worst pain would be first on the list, though Cas has always been reluctant to even discuss his wings, much less show them. Still, it's the least we can do to let him choose. "Alright then," I say calmly. "We're going to have to take your shirt off to get to your injuries. Is…that alright?"

He nods, but makes no move to remove it himself. Dean looks over at me questioningly, and I nod to him. He reaches over and carefully pulls the bloody trench coat away, removing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. Cas seems not to notice until he gently slides the garment from the angel's shoulders, at which point he cringes. "Well isn't that strange," Dean muses to himself. "Bloodstains on the back of your shirt, but no blood on your back."

Castiel shrugs, hissing in pain at the movement. "There is blood. You just can't see it."

Dean shakes his head, deciding it's better to just accept what his friend says than ask more questions now. Besides, we have more important things to ask about. "Alright Cas, try to relax and stay still," I instruct calmly as I carefully inspect the bloody slashes in his chest. "Were these made with an Angel Blade?" Castiel nods silently. "Okay. This might sting a little, but I'll do my best to be gentle." I carefully soak a piece of gauze in a cleaning solution before reaching towards the angel. Just a moment before my hand comes in contact with the wound, Cas jerks away from me, a low whimper escaping him.

I look at Dean, surprised at how fearful our usually stoic friend is becoming. "Cas, it's okay," Dean murmurs. "You know we won't hurt you."

Slowly, blue eyes look up, searching between us. "I know. I'm sorry. It's just…strange."

"We know," I assure him. "Just try to stay still. It'll be over before you know it." Slowly, I move forward again as Dean moves in closer, preventing him from backing away. The angel hisses, pressing back against Dean, to gain comfort or to attempt escape or maybe both. I can't tell. He takes Cas' hand anyway, giving what comfort he can, clearly unnerved at how quickly his angel is turning into a frightened child. "Almost done, I promise," I murmur. Finally, the dried blood is washed from his skin, giving me a better look at the wounds. "Okay, all clean. I'm just going to bandage them. It won't hurt," I assure him. Cas nods, relaxing somewhat against Dean as I carefully cover the wounds.

"So," Dean says to relieve the uncomfortable silence, "How did a bunch of demons even get a hold of your wings? It's not like you just walk around with them on display."

Cas nods sadly. "It seems they've been doing their homework. There are spells for all kinds of things. You know that."

Dean frowns. "There's a spell to make an angel show his wings?"

"An angel's wings are his most vulnerable and sensitive part," he explains. "In the old days, when angels were tortured, it was their wings that took the worst of it. When an angel falls, their wings are torn out. They're a direct line to Grace. It appears the demons have been reading up on us, or that someone is feeding them information."

I wince throughout his story, and a sudden, horrible thought occurs to me. "When you say 'most vulnerable and sensitive part'…"

Cas sighs. "Yes, it's going to be as bad as you think it will be. Compared to the resilience of an angel, their wings are relatively fragile. And the connection to Grace makes them particularly sensitive to all kinds of stimuli. Even the smallest injury is beyond painful. I don't know how much damage has been done, but I can tell you it is agony." The angel's voice, usually even and measured, breaks with his last sentence, and I realize how desperately he's clinging to this calm visage.

"Alright," I say, steadying myself. "Well I guess the faster we fix the damage the better, then. Will you, um…show us?"

The angel hesitates, but seems to realize that he has no other choice. He closes his eyes, and suddenly enormous black wings sprout from his back. Both Dean and I freeze, awed by the reality of something we've only imagined. Even bloodied, torn, and twisted at unnatural angles, the wings are magnificent. But the closer I look, the more damage I see. It's clear that the bones, or whatever infrastructure the wings have, have been snapped in several places, making them hang limply, twisted into painful-looking positions. Blood trickles slowly from several gashes, the feathers matted with dried clots. Worse, it seems bringing his wings into this plane of reality have made their pain more real as well, and his white-knuckled fingers grip the blankets tightly. "Sam," Dean murmurs, "Are you sure you can fix this?"

I'm not, but with the hopeful way Castiel is looking at me I know I can't say that. Instead, I nod. "It can't be much different than setting a broken arm, right? It might not be pleasant, but I can fix it." This seems to calm the angel slightly, and I pray to anyone listening that I'll be able to do it. "Alright, I'm just going to take a look. I won't touch, I promise." He nods, sinking further into Dean's chest as I carefully map out the injuries. While one wing is twisted beyond natural limits with several breaks clear, the other's injuries consist mainly of slices made with the knife, and just a small break near the end of the wing. "We're going to have to immobilize the breaks somehow so that when you move your wings it doesn't upset the bones. The good news is the joints look okay, so you should have some mobility while they heal, at least in this one. For the one with all the breaks, I think our best bet is to have you fold it back out of the way, splint the breaks in that position and immobilize the whole wing. We can use a bandage to hold it against your body while it heals. For the other, we can just splint the smaller break at the end and clean up the cuts; maybe put some stitches in if we have to. You should have fairly free movement in that one. What do you think?"

Castiel looks up at me, and the pain is apparent in his eyes. "If it works," he murmurs, "I think it's the greatest plan you've ever had."

I nod. "Okay. Let me go get what I need. Dean will stay with you."

He half-smiles in that odd way of his. "Thank you, Sam. For everything."

"Any time. Try to relax."

DeanPOV

I wait for Sam to leave before turning to the miserable-looking angel huddled beside me. He's thinking, and a little crease forms between his eyebrows. "Hey, what's wrong?" I ask.

"Nothing," he replies. "I think I might be having a heart attack."

I frown, lightly pressing my fingers against his neck. "Does your chest or arm hurt?"

He shakes his head. "No, it's just very fast. And I'm…damp."

I chuckle. "You're sweating, Cas. And you're not having a heart attack. You're just nervous. I have something that might help." I pull a bottle out from the drawer, setting it down on the nightstand.

"Whiskey?" he asks.

"It'll help with the pain a little," I explain. "Have a sip. Or twenty."

He stares at it for another minute. "I don't drink."

I nod. "I know. But there's not too many better times to start."

He rolls his eyes at this. "I am an angel of the Lord, Dean. I'm sure I can handle it."

Just then, Sam returns, his arms full of various bandages. I take a swig from the bottle myself. "If you say so. I'll just leave it here in case you change your mind."

"Alright, let's get started," Sam interrupts. "I'm sorry in advance for this. Try to hang in there. You might want to hold onto Dean."

Castiel nods, bracing himself against me, his grip on my hand tightening as he folds the worse of the two against his back. Sam counts to three before quickly shifting the bones back into place, holding them still while a screaming Cas thrashes. I grab his shoulders, trying to stop his movement, but for someone who's been tortured within an inch of their life, he's stronger than you'd expect. "Cas, stop!" I yell over his cries. "Cas, it's alright, but you have to stay still before you do any more damage. You're okay. Just take it easy." Slowly, he quiets, panting heavily. After a minute he looks up at me. "You alright?" I ask.

Instead of answering, he reaches over to the nightstand, picking up the bottle of whiskey and chugging as much as he can while Sam carefully binds the bones. After a solid thirty seconds I take the bottle from him. "Alright big guy, the last thing you need is to start throwing up."

He sighs, wiping the sweat off his forehead. "Well, that was…unpleasant," he murmurs weakly.

"Sorry about that," Sam sighs. "The good news is, that was the worst part. I only have two smaller breaks left to fix, and hopefully they won't be as painful."

Castiel shakes his head. "Don't apologize, Sam. I know you're trying you're best. You're already doing more than necessary to help me."

"Still, we don't want to hurt you. Do you want to take a break before we do the rest?"

The angel considers it, then reaches over and takes another swig from the bottle. "I think I'd rather get it over with, if it's all the same to you."

Sam nods, going back to stabilizing the bones. Cas whimpers with each small shift, and his grip on me becomes almost painful. "Hurry up," I mutter to Sam.

"Do you want it done fast or do you want it done well, Dean?" he asks irritated.

"Both would be great," I reply. "He's in pain."

He sighs. "I know that. Hang in there, Cas. I'm almost done." The angel hides his face in my shoulder, trembling hard, little moans escaping him with each ragged breath. "Okay, I'm done," Sam says finally.

Castiel gives no sign of hearing this, continuing to shake. I look to Sam, who shrugs helplessly, before pulling him in closer, careful to avoid his injuries. "Easy, Cas. Hey, it's alright," I murmur softly. "The bad part is over, okay?" Slowly, he nods, but refuses to separate himself from my shoulder. "Sammy, go get me a bowl of cold water and a few washcloths," I order, holding onto the trembling angel. When he returns, setting the bowl down on the table, I soak one of the washcloths in the water, then fold it in half and press it against the back of Cas' neck. A soft, surprised sound escapes him, and after a moment he begins to relax against me, breathing easier. In a few minutes, he blinks up at me. "Better?"

He nods. "What…did you do?" he asks.

I shrug. "It's something my mom used to do when I got worked up. I never knew why, but it always helped me calm down. I thought it might help you too."

The corners of his mouth twitch up in a weak smile. "Thank you. It did help."

"How are you feeling?" Sam asks.

Castiel considers it. "It's still painful, but not excruciatingly so. It's bearable. Thank you."

Sam nods. "I'm glad. I'm just going to finish cleaning up those gashes and patch you up. Don't worry; it shouldn't be nearly as bad as before. Just try to relax." Cas nods, occasionally hissing in pain as Sam cleans his wounds, but for the most part his fear seems to have passed.

"Why'd you go off hunting demons by yourself?" I ask.

He shrugs vaguely. "I heard about some strange things going on, and I know you two are pretty busy, so I thought I'd just…take care of it myself." I raise an eyebrow at him, and he sighs. "Okay. I just wanted to prove that I could do something right for once. I thought I could handle it. Obviously, I was wrong."

I nod. "Yeah, you were. But Cas, you don't have to prove anything. We don't hunt together because we think you can't handle yourself. We hunt together because we like having you as a part of the team."

He sighs softly. "I suppose that was a foolish thing to do, then."

Sam chuckles, beginning to wrap a bandage around his torso to keep his bad wing still. "Yeah, I'd say it wasn't one of your best ideas. But you did the right thing coming to us. It'll take a little while, but you're going to be okay."

Cas nods. "Thank you. Both of you," he murmurs, his eyelids drooping tiredly. "I...I'm really glad that you consider me a part of your family."

I have to laugh as his head dips, only to jerk back up. "Are you falling asleep?"

He nods slowly. "I think the damage to my Grace has made me slightly more human than usual." He pauses. "I don't…really know how to be a proper human." He thinks this over while his head slowly gravitates towards my shoulder, his free wing folding around him like a blanket.

Sam chuckles softly. "Well, you'll have around six weeks to figure it out. Don't worry, we'll teach you. The first lesson on being human is that humans need to sleep when they get tired. You've been through a lot. You should rest." No sooner has the word left his mouth than soft snores start coming up from the angel, slightly muffled by my shirt. "Well that was fast." He turns to leave.

"Sam! What am I supposed to do?" I ask.

He looks at me questioningly. "What do you mean?"

"Do I just…stay here?"

He rolls his eyes. "Yes, Dean. You stay there and let him sleep on you and don't disturb him. Clearly he needs some guidance and comfort right now, and against all logical thought he's chosen you. You're his best friend, and he's helped you out loads of times. I guess it's time to return the favor. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to see what else I can find out about this whole wing business."

I nod. "But…you think he'll be okay, right?"

He shrugs. "Yeah, I think he should be okay. I think he'll just need some help for a while. He's not used to being powerless, and he's never needed to rely on other people. It won't be easy, but he'll be okay. We'll just have to be here for him."

"Yeah. Okay," I reply, "I think we can do that. Thanks, Sammy." He nods, disappearing down the hall.

A soft sound comes up from the angel in my lap, and he presses closer, his good wing twitching lightly in his sleep. I stare at it for a moment, wondering what an angel wing might feel like. Are they just giant bird wings, or is there some magical element that makes them different? I watch him for a minute to be sure that he's asleep before slowly reaching out, running my fingers lightly over the feathers. Cas sighs softly, a little shudder running through him. Curious, I continue gently petting the odd plumage, wondering what it would be like to have wings.

"What are you doing?" a low, gravelly voice asks suddenly, making me jump.

"Jesus…You scared me. I thought you were asleep."

He looks up at me, blue eyes narrowed. "I was. But they're a part of my body, Dean. I can feel them like you feel your arms. Why were you touching them?"

I hesitate, feeling the same way I felt when I was twelve, and dad caught me playing with his gun; the feeling that I've done something wrong without knowing what. "Well I…I was just…wondering…I mean, it's not like I get to see them often…I was curious…and you didn't seem to mind…"

Cas frowns for a moment. "Do that again."

I raise an eyebrow at him, but he just stares back until I cave. Slowly, I reach out, my fingertips just barely brushing the edge of the feathers. The wing twitches again, and a strange noise escapes from his chest. I pull my hand back quickly. "What was that?" I ask.

He frowns again. "I'm…not entirely sure."

"Did…I hurt you?" I ask nervously.

He shakes his head. "No. Quite the opposite, actually. It's just…unusual. They've never…done that before."

"Done what?"

He stays quiet for a minute, thinking, before shaking his head. "It isn't important right now."

I nod. "Okay, but…what does it feel like? Why is it unusual?"

He considers it for a moment. "It's oddly…soothing. They seem to…respond to you differently. I've never experienced that before."

"Why do you think that is?" I ask. I've always known our friendship was different, but is it possible that there's something else going on?

He looks up at me again. "They remember you."

I stare at him for a moment. "Okay, you're going to have to explain that to me. What do you mean they 'remember' me?" Instead of explaining, he spreads his good wing farther, and I see a small imperfection. Upon closer inspection, they look like fingerprints burned into the feathers. "What…"

Cas' eyes travel to my shoulder, where the faint outline of his handprint rests. He presses his hand to it, matching up each finger perfectly. "You got this when I grabbed you. But the thing is, you grabbed me too."

I frown, trying to get my fingers to stop shaking as I carefully match each one to the marks on Cas' wing. "I did this?" I ask. He nods. "But…I don't understand. You said I got that burn because of your Grace. I don't have Grace. So how did I leave a mark on you?"

He shrugs, his wing curling around him again. "I've always told you how powerful the human soul can be. When I pulled you from hell, you were scared and in pain and desperate. Those are powerful emotions. So when I grabbed you, and you realized that I was trying to rescue you, you grabbed onto me for dear life. That kind of pure emotion left an impression on me, both literally and figuratively speaking. And when you touched my wing before, it was like my Grace was reaching out for you. Like it remembered what we went through together, and now that it's damaged, it…wanted to connect with you again." He ducks his head. "Just an idea, really. I can't say for sure. But it wasn't…unpleasant at all."

I nod slowly, thinking about this. "I guess that makes sense. When I was in trouble, my soul grabbed onto you. Now that you've been hurt, your Grace wants to hang onto me."

"That's fairly accurate, yes."

Finally, after feeling so useless, this is something I can do to help him. "Well there's nothing wrong with that. You've always had my back, and Sam's. Now I've got yours. Don't worry about it."

He smiles. "You're a good friend, Dean."

"You're not too shabby yourself. Go back to sleep, Cas. You've had a rough few days. When you wake up I'll make Sam bring us burgers and pie."

A snort escapes him. "You're actually going to share pie with me? You must have been more worried than I thought."

"Shut up."

Cas chuckles softly. "Jerk."

"Bitch."

Well there you have it, just some random plot bunnies that have been floating around. If you happened to enjoy it, drop me a line! I could continue or I could leave it here, so if you want to see more let me know!

Love,
TheSongSmith