Author's Notes: Written for the Black Circle DJ fest at Livejournal. Prompt was 'Diamonds' by Rihanna. Thanks to acidbathory for the beta job!

'Sam!' shouts Dean, coming up behind his brother. Sam pauses from his run and turns. 'It's trying to trick us. You run down that tunnel and circle around. Cas and I will cut down this one and head it off.' Sam nods and continues running straight through the cave, disappearing around a bend shortly after. Dean nods to Castiel and they turn right, flashlights bobbing as they run and casting odd shadows along the cave walls.

Bobby'd caught word of a Wendigo sighting in Wyoming a week earlier, so the brothers and Castiel had packed up and headed south. They'd been tracking the thing for three days, hopping from cave to cave during the day trying to pin down its exact location. They'd finally found it in the seventh search, something that wasn't entirely expected and more of a surprise than Dean was willing to admit. They'd crafted a few Molotovs for each of them just for reassurance, using bottles of Beam and Turkey, something Dean wasn't best pleased about – he'd been saving those for a rainy day.

In hindsight, he should have known better. They'd checked a few places early in the day, but they all turned out to be a waste of time. Upon heading back to town as the sun slowly sank below the horizon, Sam had discovered a smaller cave on his map. He'd suggested looking into it. Castiel had said it made sense to check it then since it was on the way instead of coming back this way tomorrow for more than likely nothing at all. Dean had agreed. Bobby would call him an idjit when he heard the story. Dean supposes he deserves it.

'Slow down, Cas,' whispers Dean, holding out his arm to stop his friend. 'We should be closing in on it. This cave isn't that big.'

They advance slowly, each holding their lighters at the ready as they round the next corner and emerge into a small cavern. They continue into the next tunnel where Sam should be coming through and as they enter it, they hear the sound of running feet. Dean glances at Castiel and motions to his Molotov, signaling for him to be prepared. Just as a shadow appears within their line of sight and they're each about to set flame to their weapons, Sam comes into view, shock written across his face when he sees them.

'Wha – Where is it?' he pants as he slides to a halt.

'Shit!' shouts Dean. 'It's hidden itself. Did you pass any other tunnels?' Sam shakes his head and Dean swears again. 'It probably followed one of us halfway here. One of us had to have passed it.'

Castiel looks between the brothers. 'Then why would it have not attacked?'

Sam's brow furrows as he looks at Dean. 'It's waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce,' he says darkly.

'My father's creatures are amazing, aren't they?' says Castiel, somewhat reverently.

'Yeah, well, I want a word with your dad, Cas,' grinds out Dean between clenched teeth. 'Here's the new plan. We backtrack. Go slow. Keep a look out for any place it could have hidden in. Listen and watch behind you. We'll meet back at – Cas!'

Sam and Castiel are frozen as the Wendigo leaps out from behind a pile of rocks in the cavern and lunges towards Castiel. Dean does the first thing his mind can think of and tackles Castiel backwards into the cavern. The Wendigo barely misses, slamming hard against the wall as Dean and Castiel slide across the dirty cave floor. Sam's about to light his Molotov and toss it at the creature when an aftershock from the Wendigo's collision begins to shake the walls of the cave. Rocks begin to crash down around them and Dean can do nothing more than shield his and Castiel's head from the falling debris, but not in nearly enough time as he feels something large hurtle into the back of his skull.

As the cave steadies and the falling rocks cease, Dean raises his head and takes stock of the situation. Castiel's still beside him, breathing steadily, simply knocked unconscious from the impact to the ground. Dean checks his own head and finds it's bleeding rapidly, but he can deal with that in a minute. He glances around and sees that the Wendigo is also still, lying several feet away from them where it fell after its attempted attack. The next thing Dean sees makes his stomach drop. Both tunnels are caved in. There's no way of getting through them.

'Sam!' he calls, attempting to sit up. 'Ow, shit fucking hell!' he cries out when a sharp pain shoots through his leg. He glances down his body and finds that a large rock has landed directly on his left leg. 'Sam, answer me!'

'Dean!' comes Sam's muffled voice from the other side of the rocks. 'Are you all right?'

'I'm fine, Sammy!' he replies. Taking another look at himself, he concedes, 'I'll live, at least. You okay?'

'Yeah, yeah, I'm good,' answers Sam. 'Dodged out of the way. Barely got scratched. How's Cas?'

Dean glances at Castiel again to check his breathing. 'He's out, but I think he's okay.'

'All right. I'm circling around to the other side. Try and wake Cas up,' calls Sam.

'No good, Sammy!' yells Dean wearily. 'That side's blocked, too.' He hears Sam curse through the stones.

'I'll figure something else out. Hold tight.'

'Hurry the hell up, man!' shouts Dean. 'The Wendigo's out, but I know the fucker's not dead. I dropped my Molotov when I tackled Cas and it looks like his shattered. If that thing wakes up, we're toast.'

Sam's silent for a moment. 'Keep an eye on it,' he finally replies, worry creeping in to his tone. 'I'll be back.'

Dean relaxes his head back to the ground and switches his gaze between the Wendigo and Castiel. When his vision begins to blur, he settles on watching Castiel's breathing, determined to make sure his friend stays alive. Before long, he notices that the edge of his sight is beginning to grow dark and he belatedly remembers his head wound. He barely manages to reach for the hem of his shirt before everything fades to black and Dean passes out.

Consciousness returns to him slowly. At first, he's unsure of where he is. A lot of their motel rooms smell musty and have many other unidentifiable scents, but they never smell wet or like earth. He's aware of a low shuffling sound and there's something tugging gently at his left leg, but he's not sure what it could be and doesn't really care at this point. All he wants is to go back to sleep. Yet, that's difficult to do when you're sitting up with your back pressed against something rough and pokey. He tries to slump over to the side, but something catches him and pushes him back up. He grunts unhappily.

'I'm sorry, Dean, but you can't go back to sleep. It's very unsafe.'

Dean groans in annoyance before he wonders why it's unsafe. There's nothing wrong with him. He's just tired. He needs to sleep and then he'll be all right. And then he realizes that he recognizes the voice that's speaking to him and he opens his eyes.

'Cas?' he questions when he sees his friend perched by his left side. Castiel gazes at him in concern and Dean doesn't like it, so he glances around instead. He takes in the cave and the blocked tunnels and the still unconscious Wendigo on the other side of the cavern and he remembers. 'Fuck!'

'Yes, it isn't very good,' says Castiel as he moves back down to Dean's leg, which Dean now realizes is most definitely broken. As Castiel begins to fuss over his leg, Dean notices for the first time that his friend is now shirtless.

'Hey, Cas?' Castiel glances up at him and Dean continues. 'Where's your shirt got to?'

Castiel nods towards Dean. 'Your head was bleeding. I needed something to staunch the flow so that you could regain consciousness.'

'Ah,' says Dean and then Castiel grabs his leg and attempts to move it. 'Damn it, Cas, that hurts like a bitch!' hisses Dean, grabbing at a rock.

'I'm sorry, Dean,' says Castiel softly.

'It's not your fault, man,' replies Dean. 'I'm blaming the rock.'

Castiel is quiet for a long moment as he gently maneuvers Dean's leg, his eyes downcast. 'I meant for this entire situation, Dean,' he finally says. 'It is my fault and I'm sorry. I should never have let my attention waver, even for a second.'

Damn right, it is, thinks Dean. Actually, if he wants to blame anyone, he should blame Sam. He was the one who encouraged Castiel to join them on their hunts. But Dean knows that Castiel isn't cut out to be a hunter. He can barely manage the day to day needs of being human, let alone the extras hunting requires of a person.

Then again, Dean hadn't put up much of a fight against the idea. Somewhere deep down, he'd known that if his friend had to be anywhere after falling from grace, Dean wanted Castiel with him. He'd once mused over that feeling out loud when Sam was around, figuring it was because Castiel was so helpless as a human and Dean wanted to watch over him the same way Castiel had looked after him and Sam in previous times. Sam hadn't said much of anything on the subject and had made a bitchface that Dean had never seen before, something between smug-all-knowingness, Dean-you're-an-idiot, and I'm-a-Popsicle-but-don't-eat-me. Or maybe Dean had just wanted a Popsicle. He can't be sure.

'Maybe it is your fault, Cas, but you gotta learn somehow,' he says. 'We all make mistakes. Sam and I could tell you some doozies.'

'Neither of you have ever almost got the other killed,' whispers Castiel.

Dean raises his eyebrows at the man. 'Yeah, we have. Lots of times. You learn, but you'll always make mistakes. Don't beat yourself up over them. It doesn't do you any good and it doesn't help your friends.' Castiel remains silent, but he finally meets Dean's eyes. 'Speaking of Sam,' says Dean, changing the subject, 'has he come back yet?'

Castiel shakes his head. 'I haven't heard from him. I tried shouting, but he didn't answer.' His eyes swivel until they land on the Wendigo. 'I'm not completely sure that shouting is the best thing to do at the moment, either.'

Dean grimaces as Castiel shifts his leg one final time. He lays two long sticks on either side of the limb before inching closer to Dean and reaching for his chest with slow fingers. Dean watches as Castiel's thumbs hook around the edges of his jacket and begin to push it backwards off his shoulders.

'What are you doing?' barks Dean, shoving his back as close to the rock wall as possible, retreating from his friend's hands.

Castiel removes his hands and spares Dean a curious glance. 'I need to remove your over-shirt so that I can use it to secure your splint. It has long sleeves, so it will be easy to tie around your leg.'

Dean relaxes slightly. 'I can manage,' he says, reaching for one of his jacket sleeves, but Castiel's hands appear again, grabbing Dean's wrists and holding them firmly in place.

'No, you cannot,' he says, voice rough. 'You should only move as much as is strictly necessary or else you could cause more damage to your leg. Now hold still, Dean.'

Castiel releases Dean's wrists and reaches for his jacket again. Dean watches him cautiously, but his wariness of the sternness showing in Castiel's eyes stills his muscles and keeps him from moving. Castiel gently slips the jacket over Dean's shoulders, one hand sliding around Dean's waist and up his back to rest between Dean's shoulder blades. The hand softly shifts Dean forward as the other works the sleeves from his arms. Castiel pulls the freed jacket close to his body and folds it as best he can, laying it upon a nearby rock to keep it out of the dirt.

Dean leans his head back against the cave wall and takes a deep breath as he closes his eyes. He wonders where Sam is, how long he's been gone, and if he's okay. He's snapped out of his musings suddenly by the tug of fingers on his shirt button. He opens his eyes and sees Castiel's gaze focused intently on his work, slowly pushing the button out of its hole and moving down to the next one. Dean's eyes track their steady progress down his chest and along the curve of his stomach, Castiel's blunt nails slipping past the open sides every so often and grazing feather lightly against the thin fabric of Dean's t-shirt, sending shivers racing along Dean's spine.

Castiel pauses halfway through his task and glances up to study Dean's face when he feels the shudders, concern leaking from his shadowed blue eyes. 'I'll replace your jacket as soon as I remove this,' he murmurs. 'I'm sure you're very cold.'

Dean swallows thickly and shrugs his shoulders, casting his eyes to the side, away from Castiel's steady gaze. Castiel's fingers return to Dean's stomach and Dean holds back a groan, leaning his head back again and staring at the cave ceiling. Hurry up, Sam, he thinks pleadingly. All this dust from the cave-in is going to my head.

Castiel's fingers move lower and Dean's breath hitches painfully in his chest as they graze the last button, resting just below Dean's waist. He feels Castiel's eyes studying him, but Dean refuses to look at his friend, focusing instead on the ceiling and the man-sized hole he's discovered above his head. He's not sure whether it was there before or if the cave-in caused its formation, but either way, it's a distraction and possibly even a means of rescue.

He studies what he can see through the hole and attempts to plot its location. It looks as though they're beneath a small clearing. He can only see the end of a tree limb at the edge of the hole and nothing else except a clear sky and stars.

'Dean?' says Castiel softly, shuffling forward to repeat his earlier movements. 'What are you staring at?'

Dean motions with his head. 'Found a hole,' he says simply.

Castiel looks up and his hand slows as it slides around Dean's waist while he studies the hole in the cave roof. 'Do you think Sam would be able to get us out through there?' he asks, eyes thoughtful as he considers his own question.

'Maybe,' answers Dean, actively not thinking about Castiel's warm hand resting firmly against his lower back, heat scalding him even through his t-shirt. 'He should at least be able to give us some supplies for when that Wendigo inevitably wakes up.'

'One would only hope,' replies Castiel, turning back to Dean and resuming his task. Dean breathes a silent breath of relief as the hand drifts further up his back.

When the shirt is removed, Castiel reaches for Dean's jacket, but Dean shakes his head. 'Leave it,' says Dean. 'I'm fine. You're probably colder than I am. You can use it if you want to.'

Castiel replaces the jacket on the rock and moves back down to Dean's leg. 'I'm not cold,' he replies. 'I have no need of it.'

Dean grits his teeth against the pain as Castiel lifts his leg slightly to place the shirt beneath it. 'You've gotta be cold,' argues Dean as Castiel arranges the sticks against the sides of Dean's leg. 'You're human now, Cas. You gotta start paying attention to this stuff.'

'I understand that, Dean,' says Castiel as he works gently and methodically, 'but I promise you that my body is suffering no ill effects.'

'Damn it, Cas!' growls Dean. 'Will you just put the fucking coat on? You're making me uncomfortable without a shirt on.'

Castiel is silent as he wraps the shirt as tightly as possible around Dean's damaged leg. He pauses before tying the sleeves into a knot and looks up at Dean, head cocked in his usual show of curiosity. 'Why are you so awkward when it comes to the human body, Dean? It's a very natural, beautiful thing.'

Dean huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. 'I'm not awkward with the human body. Just the male body. I'm completely comfortable with a chick's body.'

'And why is that?' asks Castiel as he finishes tying the knot in the sleeves, head still cocked.

Dean's eyes rove around the dark cave, searching for the best way to answer. 'Because … because guys just don't bare all their junk to other guys. It's not the right way of doing things.'

Castiel sits back on his heels as he studies his work on Dean's leg. When he deems the job suitable, he looks back up at Dean, blue eyes cloudy with confusion. 'I disagree,' he says objectively. 'A great number of your world's population has openly accepted homosexuality as a lifestyle. Heaven certainly never had any objections to such things. Why do you say it's unacceptable?'

'Wait, no,' says Dean quickly. 'I never said it was unacceptable. I've got no problem with that. You wanna be with dudes, be with dudes. You wanna be with chicks, be with chicks. It makes no difference to me. I just mean, you know … straight guys,' he clarifies. 'It's not something straight guys are meant to do.'

Castiel stares at Dean for a long while, blue eyes considering. Finally, he says, 'I've spent many years on this Earth, watching the human race grow and evolve into what you are now. I've witnessed triumphs and mistakes, great tragedies and great loves, births and deaths. I've seen more things than you could ever imagine and one of the many things I've learned throughout my time is that if a person is confident with their sexuality, they find no discomfort with the human body, whether male or female.'

Dean gapes at his friend, brain too shocked at Castiel's words to form a reply. Castiel continues to stare at him, waiting patiently for a response. When minutes pass and Dean still remains mute, Castiel turns his face away and stares up through the hole.

'I find nothing uncomfortable about any version of the human form,' he says matter-of-factly.

'That's because you were an angel!' exclaims Dean, mouth finally deciding to work. 'You've seen naked humans billions of times!'

Castiel's eyes slide closed, face white and ghostly pale in the light shining through the hole. 'Not through human eyes,' he whispers.

Dean swallows and says nothing, leaning his head back once more and staring up through the hole. He watches the winking stars above his head and tries to pick out any constellations, but he can't seem to remember them. Sam would know. Castiel probably does, too, but Dean senses his friend needs to be left alone for a while. His eyes grow heavy as he watches a small cloud drift in front of the star he's been eying and Dean decides to let them fall closed for a moment.

It feels like barely five seconds has passed by before he's being shaken roughly awake by a pair of strong hands.

'Dean!' shouts Castiel next to his ear. Dean mumbles something unintelligible and leans into the heat radiating from the other man, slowly slipping back into sleep. 'Dean, you have to wake up. I can't let you go to sleep with your head injury. I'm sorry.'

Dean cracks open one eye and stares blearily at Castiel's concerned face. 'Ya worry too much, Cas,' slurs Dean sleepily before releasing a snort of amusement.

Castiel continues to stare at him for a moment before providing Dean with the closest thing to a smile the former angel has ever allowed. Dean grins goofily up at him and shifts closer to the man's warmth. Castiel pulls back slightly and Dean almost groans at the small loss of heat, but a second later, Castiel's back, closer than before and there's an added weight of some other source of warmth hanging loosely over Dean's shoulders.

Dean allows a small sigh on contentment to slip past his lips and let's his head loll backwards against the cave wall. After a long moment, Dean feels a gentle prodding sensation at the back of his head and realizes belatedly that Castiel is examining his wound.

'Howzit look, Doc?' mumbles Dean, eyes sliding across the cavern to where the Wendigo still lays.

Castiel prods a few more times before he replies, 'It isn't bleeding anymore, which I think is good.'

Dean nods. 'It is,' he says. 'Means I can sleep in a few hours, after we get this Wendigo taken care of and get our asses out of this hole.'

Castiel hums and says, 'Tilt your head towards me a little and hold still.'

Dean does as he's told, head resting lightly on Castiel's shoulder as the man repositions his shirt around Dean's head wound. When he finishes, Dean tells himself he needs to move; raise his head and stop leaning on Castiel, but the man is warm and Dean is freezing and he honestly doesn't think he has the energy left to shift his head, let alone care.

'I'm finished,' says Castiel, giving Dean permission to change his position, but Dean still doesn't move and Castiel says nothing more on the subject.

Dean feels his eyes growing heavy again a short while later, so he asks, 'What's it like?' Castiel looks at him, brow furrowed in confusion. 'Being human, I mean,' he clarifies.

Castiel's head cocks to the side again as his confusion increases. 'You should know better than I do,' he says. 'You've been human far longer.'

'Yeah, but that's what I mean,' insists Dean. 'I've always been human. I don't know any difference. But you … you were thrown from one extreme to the other. So, what's it like?' Castiel looks away and says nothing. Dean waits and when Castiel still does not reply, he says, 'C'mon, man. You gotta help me stay awake. If you don't wanna talk about this, that's fine, but talk about something.' Castiel remains silent and Dean huffs in frustration. 'Sam said something about you needing some more clothes. Maybe we can find you some stuff next week if you want.'

Dean waits for a reply, but Castiel still says nothing in response. Dean gives up, grunting and balling his hands up in the bottom of his t-shirt.

'It's terrifying,' murmurs Castiel after a long while. Dean glances up at him, but Castiel's eyes stay fixed to the opposite wall, gaze far-off and unseeing. 'Like being thrown from a sailing ship into the middle of a churning ocean, left alone and adrift with nothing to cling on to, only hoping someone comes along and saves you.' He looks down at Dean then, blue eyes clear and serious. 'This body is so fragile now and I find myself careful of every step I take. I experienced what Sam informed me was a paper cut the other day. I have never known such physical pain in all my years.'

Dean presses his lips together to withhold his chuckle. Nothing about what Castiel is telling him is funny. It's sad and unfair and the smallest bit pathetic, but Dean finds himself so overwhelmed by the thought that there are still people in the world who can feel the sting of something as small as a paper cut and say that it hurts like a bitch. Dean's been a hunter nearly all his life and his body has been damaged so many times, he doesn't even notice things as small as paper cuts.

The laughter emerges before he can gain full control over it, strangled at first, but slowly becoming unrestrained and loud. Castiel stares at him with raised eyebrows, expression thankfully more curious than wounded. Dean attempts to apologize, but the guffaws cut across his words every time he starts and he eventually gives up. Castiel continues to stare down at him, the smallest of smiles stretching across his face.

When the laughter dies away and Dean regains control over his voice, he says, 'Sorry, Cas. I swear I wasn't laughing at you.' He wipes at his streaming eyes and releases one more small chuckle.

'It's all right, Dean,' says Castiel softly. 'I'm only happy to see you experiencing such amusement.'

Dean swallows as he stares up at the other man's face, Castiel's gaze locked with his. He can still feel the heat radiating from his friend's body, and he's beginning to realize that his own is exuding warmth. Dean thinks that maybe now is the time to shift away, but he still doesn't want to.

'Dean! Cas!'

Dean jumps in surprise, his and Castiel's eyes both looking upwards to the ceiling and focusing on the small hole and the face peeking through it.

'Sam!' shouts Dean, sitting up quickly. 'Where have you been?'

Sam rolls his eyes. 'Nice to see you, too,' he mutters. 'I've been looking for another way to get you two out of there.'

'Took you long enough,' gripes Dean, attempting to push himself up on his feet while Castiel tries to push him back down. He glares at Castiel as he asks, 'You grab any rope from the trunk?'

Sam holds up a large bundle of rope over the hole for Dean to see. 'Of course I did,' he says smugly. 'I always think of everything.'

'Smartass,' mumbles Dean. Castiel is still fighting with Dean, pushing firmly on his shoulders to keep him seated on the ground. 'Would you stop? I'm fine, Cas. This isn't my first broken bone.'

'Dean, you need to stay off your leg as much as possible,' explains Castiel impatiently. 'The more you try to use it, the worse it's going to be.'

'You know, Cas, I know I made that joke earlier about you being a doctor,' grinds out Dean between gritted teeth, 'but you aren't actually a doctor.'

'Will you two stop arguing like man and wife and let me get you out of there?' calls Sam in exasperation. 'That thing's not gonna be out cold for much longer.'

Dean alternates glaring between Sam and Castiel while Castiel stares at him like Dean's nothing more than an impetuous child. Dean doesn't appreciate it.

'Fine,' says Castiel finally, 'but you have to let me help you.'

Dean grumbles as Castiel helps pull him up the wall and on to his feet, wrapping his arm around Dean's waist and slinging Dean's arm around Castiel's shoulders. They hobble across the dirt floor until they're directly beneath the hole and Sam throws down one end of a looped and knotted rope.

'Try and put him through the loop, Cas,' instructs Sam. 'I'll pull him up and then get you next.'

Dean balances on his good leg, one arm braced against his friend's back, as Castiel gently lifts his damaged leg and begins to hook the loop around it. Just as he slides the rope over Dean's foot, a scratching sound greets them from the other side of the cavern. His stomach drops when he sees the Wendigo stirring.

'Sam!' he hisses, eyes not leaving the Wendigo. 'You still got one of those Molotovs?' His heart is hammering inside his chest, blood pumping through his ears at a tremendous rate, blocking out all sound. He can feel Castiel's panicked gaze locked on him, silently asking Dean what to do. Dean doesn't know. He can't hear anything; he's deaf to his own thoughts.

'Yeah,' answers Sam. 'Gimme a sec.'

'We don't really have a second, Sammy,' snaps Dean. The Wendigo's on its feet, wobbling slightly, but it's got Dean and Castiel in its sight and it's beginning to snarl. 'Throw that thing down here now.'

Dean feels Castiel move slowly beside him. There's a gentle tug at his ankle and Dean realizes Castiel has freed his foot from the rope. Dean swallows because he can't run, and even if he could, they have nowhere to run to, and even if they did, it wouldn't do much good anyhow. Castiel's so close that even over the blood pounding through his ears, Dean can hear his quick breathing.

'Now, Sam!' shouts Dean as the Wendigo begins to advance.

Dean glances around, tries to find something to use as a weapon, but there's nothing. They're defenseless and the Wendigo is quickly closing the distance between them. Just as the Wendigo is ready to pounce, Dean's hit hard across the chest and is knocked backwards onto the ground. He coughs to regain his breath and looks up to see Castiel standing between Dean and the Wendigo, his friend sturdy and brave and idiotic. Dean only stares.

The Wendigo growls and rears back to pounce. Dean's about to scream at Castiel when a bottle falls through the hole in the cave roof, landing in Castiel's hand. Just as the Wendigo charges, Castiel flicks his lighter to life against the wick of the Molotov and tosses it at the creature. It stumbles backwards in surprise and cries in pain as the flames quickly engulf it. Castiel and Dean watch as it falls to the ground, nothing more than charred, ashy remains.

The next half hour passes by in a blur for Dean. He and Castiel check the Wendigo to be sure it's dead before Sam pulls them up out of the cave. Braced between Sam and Castiel, Dean loses consciousness twice on the journey back to the Impala. He passes out in the backseat, damaged leg propped up and hanging out the window, his head nestled on Castiel's lap who refuses to leave him unattended.

He wakes again when they arrive at the nearby hospital. After a false tale about a hiking trip gone awry, Dean is fitted with a cast and permitted to leave after only a small bit of argument over his head wound. They head back to their motel where Dean promptly collapses on his bed and passes out again.

A week goes by and Dean avoids Castiel as much as possible. He's frustrated and pissed, and for the most part, he blames it on the cast. It itches like a bitch and no matter how hard he tries, he can never scratch it. Castiel tries to talk to him every now and then, but Dean barely glances at him before he turns his back on his friend. Dean's noticed that Castiel has developed a remarkable liking to Sam in the past week. That pisses him off, too, and he digs at the cast.

Dean wakes up late one evening, groggy from his recent dose of painkillers, to find Sam gone and Castiel locked away in the bathroom. He makes his slow way outside into the cool night air as soon as his head clears enough and settles himself on the trunk of the Impala, his good leg propped up on the bumper, damaged one stuck out stiffly in front of him. He glares at it.

After a long while, the door to their room opens and Castiel emerges, expression pensive in the soft light from the moon. He gazes up at Dean for moment before pulling something long and thin from his pocket.

He offers it to Dean and says, 'I found it today when I was out with Sam. I thought it would help.'

Dean studies the thing in Castiel's hand for a few seconds before he tentatively accepts it. 'What is it?' he asks roughly.

'It's a Fracture Scratcher,' answers Castiel simply. Dean raises a disbelieving eyebrow at the other man and Castiel gently takes the Fracture Scratcher back, maneuvering it down inside Dean's cast easily.

Dean's eyes widen as the plastic begins to rake across his irritated skin and he sighs in relief. 'Wow.' Castiel removes the device and hands it back to Dean. 'Thanks,' he mumbles.

Castiel stands beside him, silent and eyes locked firmly on the white line next to the Impala for a long while. Dean doesn't encourage conversation and waits for the man to go back inside.

'Dean,' says Castiel finally, voice soft and questioning, 'are you angry with me because of your leg?'

Dean looks down at the Fracture Scratcher in his hands and slowly rubs his thumbs over the smooth plastic. 'No,' he grunts out.

'That's what Sam said,' mutters Castiel, more to himself than to Dean. 'I should have listened to him.'

Dean looks up at him, eyes narrowed. 'What are you talking about?' he snaps.

Castiel's gaze meets Dean's, blue eyes sad and confused. 'I discussed it with Sam the other day. He said you weren't angry because of your leg. I wanted to be sure.'

'Really?' Dean almost snarls. 'What was Sammy's guess?'

Castiel shakes his head. 'He wouldn't say,' he murmurs. 'He says it isn't any of his business.' Castiel's eyes narrow in thought. 'I'm not sure I understand.'

Dean's huffs as his teeth grit together in frustration. 'You wanna know why I'm so pissed?' he bites out. 'I'm pissed because you threw yourself in front of a fucking Wendigo! What were you thinking, Cas?'

Castiel's head cocks to the side. 'You needed protection,' he answers simply.

'I can take care of my own damn self,' growls Dean.

'Past occurrences would prove that statement wrong,' says Castiel.

Dean's eyes narrow in warning. 'What the fuck's that supposed to mean?' he grinds out through gritted teeth.

'Simply that I have provided you and your brother protection many times,' says Castiel, brow furrowed. 'I do not understand the difference now.'

'The difference is that now you're human, Cas!' shouts Dean. 'You can be hurt. You can die! Protection or not, that's the last thing I want.'

Castiel is silent and studies Dean contemplatively for a long while. Finally, he takes a deep breath and says, 'I'm the one who rescued you from Hell. I rebelled against Heaven – against my family – for you. I have always protected you, without question, for you are the Righteous Man and you walk the path none other can.' Castiel's eyes flash like lightning as he speaks and Dean's frozen in place, unable to move or speak. 'You are crucial to the people of this Earth, even now when the Apocalypse has ended. More importantly, you are a vital part of Sam's life and Bobby's. You mean the world to them.' He takes a large step forward, placing himself between Dean's knees. 'You mean the world to me. We would all be lost without you. Did you truly believe that I would not still protect you from everything possible, even a Wendigo?'

Dean's breath hitches in his chest as he tries to breathe normally. Castiel's body is so close that Dean can feel the ever-constant heat radiating from it. He swallows and opens his mouth to speak, but no sound emerges. He swallows again, thickly, and manages to whisper around the lump in his throat, 'You don't mean that.'

Castiel raises his hand and rests it against Dean's stubble-rough jaw. 'Of course I do,' he says matter-of-factly. 'I mean everything I ever say.'

Dean stares at Castiel, and before he can allow himself anymore time to think and talk himself out of it, he leans down and kisses Castiel softly. He pulls back after a short moment and sees that Castiel is smiling.

'I believe I'm beginning to understand these human emotions more,' he says happily. Dean leans back in and laughs against Castiel's lips.

Minutes later, a throat clears somewhere next to them. Dean and Castiel break apart to see Sam standing beside the Impala, arms loaded with food bags and mouth pressed together tightly to suppress a grin.

'Well,' begins Sam after a moment, 'it's about damn time.'

Dean picks up the Fracture Scratcher laying next to him on the trunk and hurls it at his brother's head. Sam catches it easily in his free hand and laughs.

Sam jostles the paper bags and says, 'Come on, love birds, I got food. I know how your dope makes you hungry.'

Dean slowly shimmies down from the Impala with Castiel's help. 'Thank god,' he says enthusiastically as he follows Sam to their room, Castiel's steadying hand placed firmly on his back. 'I'm starved. Did you get pie?'

'They didn't sell pie,' answers Sam.

'Then why didn't you go somewhere else?' squawks Dean in indignation.

Sam sighs. 'Because I didn't have the Impala to go traipsing all over town. Besides,' he says, a small smirk forming as he glances over his shoulder, 'from what I saw, you had your dessert before your dinner.'

As Castiel closes the door behind him, shaking his head in exasperated amusement, Dean's muffled, irritated voice flows through it. 'Don't start with me, Samantha.'