The steady patter of rain and the soft swish of the windshield wipers had allowed Dean to ignore Cas' sniffling for the last three hundred or so miles. Thankfully, instead of choosing to breach the subject himself, Cas had curled up against the passenger side window, looking about as pitiful as a wet kitten. He hadn't said a word practically since they'd climbed in the Impala. Neither had Dean.

What was there to say, anyway, Dean wondered. Hey Cas, aren't you glad you permanently gave up your mojo for yours truly just so I could make you dig up a grave sick and concussed? I'm sure it was completely therapeutic for you .

It wasn't exactly a conversation starter.

Of course, before he'd all but fainted, shovel in hand, Dean hadn't realized Cas was coming down with something. Perhaps Cas hadn't either. Perhaps Cas still didn't. The poor guy had probably never been sick before.

And Dean really wished it had stayed that way.

Though he refused to admit it, Dean worried that this would lead Cas to realize that he was stuck with the world class mistake of choosing a human relationship over finally getting his wings back. Because, really, who the hell chose to be human when the other option involved healing and killing at a touch - not to mention the ability to jump between Heaven and Earth in a split second.

He couldn't possibly be worth what Cas had given up.

So discussing just how human Cas had become was just about at the bottom of the list of things Dean wanted to do.

However, despite that, the protective instincts tugging at the core of his existence bested him after another fifty miles.

He really couldn't keep quiet after Cas had resorted to pathetically using his overcoat sleeve as Kleenex.

"Hey Cas, you feeling okay? You're sniffling up a storm, and it sounds like you've got a choir of frogs in your throat." Dean turned towards the passenger seat and frowned at Cas' flushed cheeks.

"There are not any amphibians in it that I'm aware of," Cas said, rubbing at his throat, looking perplexed. He shifted uncomfortably before loosening his tie. "The general feeling around it is less than pleasant, though. Is that normal? It doesn't seem normal."

"Well unless you've been swallowing gravel," Dean said, "you shouldn't sound like that."

"Why would I swallow gravel?" Cas asked before clearing his throat.

"Got me," Dean said shrugging. "How's the rest of you?"

"I'm tired and sore and my head hurts," Cas listed, tilting his head towards Dean. "Not unexpected."

"Getting knocked out cold by the Houdini twins will do that to you. So will trying to grave dive," Dean said with a nod, fervently wishing that he'd realized Cas was getting sick before he'd dragged him across three state lines to take out a pair of ghosts that, despite their affinity for escape artistry, could have easily been dealt with by another team in their hunter circuit. "Still sounds like you're coming down with a bug."

"You mean I'm sick?" Cas asked. "I was starting to suspect that. You know, every time I'm human, something new about your frailty surprises me. It is strange how one's body can be damaged not only by the elements and other life but even by itself. It seems like a betrayal."

Dean winced at how Cas still classified humans as you like he still hadn't fully processed that he had become one and that his angel on switch was just plain gone. He clearly wasn't happy like this.

However, outwardly choosing to ignore Cas' unsolicited observation on the human condition, he said, "Hey, man, it's probably not the plague or anything, but we'll stop at the next Gas N' Sip and get some cold & flu stuff to fight off whatever you've got."

"I do not believe cold remedies will be particularly effective against the plague," Cas said, blearily dropping his gaze towards the dashboard.

Dean reached over and patted his hand against the passenger seat's headrest,"Hey, Amelia Bedelia, quit talking and really try and get some shut eye, would ya?"

"You began this conversation, and I do not know who that is," Cas said mildly defensively, as he placed his head against the window once again, pressing his forehead against the glass. "But I can try to sleep."

Dean was silently thankful that Cas didn't realize he was referencing a series of children's books he'd recently read to Sam's daughter. Of course, Cas probably wouldn't think there was a reason to call him out on it in the first place. Cas wasn't really about questioning one's masculinity. He'd always been more interested in questions of sexuality, specifically Dean's - never mind his complete and utter lack of intention.

But now that they were several kisses past there's-no-way-this-is-platonic, Dean sort of assumed he had to own up to being at least Cas-sexual. It kind of freaked him out.

So did the fact that Cas had trusted that he was in for the whole nine yards of whatever the hell this was.

But the idea of Cas realizing that he didn't want any yard of it absolutely terrified him.

He might be all in just to keep Cas from even thinking about trying to get back off the ground.

Backing as far away from that thought as possible, because he was definitely not a corny chick-flick level of in love with Cas, Dean started humming along to the soft rock station that he'd picked up just past the Illinois border.

He tried to focus mostly on song lyrics and searching for signs of civilization, and, consequently, gas, but he still shot several concerned and certainly-not-deeply-affectionate looks at his now drowsing passenger, vaguely hoping that he had fallen asleep.

It figured that Cas started snoring nasally about the time a gas station finally came into view. In a vain attempt not to wake him up, Dean eased into the gas station parking lot much more slowly than was warranted. But, as soon as the car rolled to a stop, Cas jolted upright.

"Dean!"

With almost no warning, he lunged towards the driver's seat and threw himself protectively between Dean and the steering wheel, angel blade in hand.

"Jesus, Cas! We're at a gas station. I think I can handle the attendant, black-eyed or otherwise. But I'm gonna start with he's human."

Cas blinked a few times, taking in his surroundings, before sinking back into the passenger seat, looking disoriented. "I see now that we are not in Purgatory."

"Not by a longshot," Dean said, softening as he realized Cas had been having a nightmare - a nightmare involving him.

Reflexively, he leaned over Cas and brushed his hand against his forehead; Cas dazedly tracked the movement. "Better check you aren't delirious."

"Is my forehead warm?" Cas asked, his eyes searching for Dean's. Dean nodded "It's strange. I'm very cold, and I don't feel...right."

Their eyes met, and Dean felt a twinge of sympathy at the unsettlingly lost look found in Cas' gaze.

However, recognizing that things had suddenly gotten intimate, he dropped his hand and pulled back to the driver's side.

"That's about how a fever works, man. Sorry," Dean said. He pulled off his jacket and set it next to Cas. "Take that. I'll get you meds. Try not to attack anyone."

Cas folded the jacket over his lap and wrapped the sleeves around his shoulders. "If I am not provoked, I will have no reason to."

"Yeah, well, maybe don't fall back asleep 'til I'm back?" Dean said as he jumped out, not waiting for a response.

He kept an ear out for anything unusual, but the lack of commotion from the lot suggested Cas hadn't found any new nightmare shadows to fight.

When he got back, he found Cas staring intently at his jacket, tracing his finger over a stain. "There's blood on this."

"And dirt and salt and who knows what else," Dean said. "My jacket needs washed. So what? Still a perfectly good duct tape excuse for a blanket. Use it and like it."

"I am using it, and I do appreciate it, Dean. It's very warm, and it's like I have part of you to sleep with. I find that...comforting," Cas said. He looked back down at the jacket before adding, "I thought you might still be bleeding."

"It's an old stain, Cas. I'm good," Dean said, taken-aback, touched, and more freaked out. He thought it best to ignore all of that. "Okay. How about these pills, huh? You know how to swallow 'em?"

"I've had pain medication before. I assume the principle is the same," Cas said.

"Have at it then," Dean said tossing the stuffed bag at Cas. "I'm getting gas."

Dean leaned against the pump, listened to the slow chugging of the gas, and shut his eyes.

He kept hoping that if he didn't think about what had led to Cas being human, it wouldn't have happened.

They wouldn't have found themselves pressed against the wall of an abandoned warehouse, leftover adrenaline fueling their every move, lips a hairsbreadth apart.

Dean wouldn't have the inclination to deny that he'd been the one to kiss first - but damn if Cas' eyes and lips hadn't been taunting him into it for years.

But, most importantly, the angels, dicks that they were, wouldn't have come and told Cas to choose.

Be an angel or be with Dean.

What a ridiculous ultimatum.

Cas, without a second of hesitation, chose love at the cost of immortality.

But, damn him, it had only been one kiss.

There had been a few afterwards, sure. But, the first kiss almost immediately becoming equivalent to an eternal sacrificial love was a lot of pressure even if you weren't simultaneously questioning your sexuality and friendship.

Why was Cas enough of an idiot to believe this was going to work?

One of them was definitely going to screw it up, and Dean was betting on himself.

Hell, he was pretty sure he that in some way he already had.

And, really, even though he'd never admit it, the last thing he would want would be for Cas to have a broken heart to match his clipped wings.