Author's Note: I don't own SPN or these characters, those belong to Eric Kripke. Nor do I own Hey Jude by the Beatles.

Dean was almost asleep when he heard the fluttering of wings and smelled the sharp crack of ozone. He bolted upright in the bed right as Castiel appeared.

"What the hell, Cas?!" he demanded. "Man, you've gotta stop doing that."

Castiel had appeared halfway across the room, and in the darkness, Dean could barely make out his face."Dean, I...I..." he took a deep breath in and let a ragged, shuddery one out. "I apologize for the intrusion, but there's s-something w-wrong with me and I can't seem to m-make it s-stop."

Dean flicked on the lamp next to the bed to make sure Cas wasn't bleeding or dying. What he saw surprised was standing maybe three or four feet away from the edge of the bed, and his eyes were umistakably shiny with tears. Dean gulped and rubbed at one of his temples. Out of all the things he had to deal with, "angel therapist" certainly wasn't on the list.

But Cas had freaking saved him from hell. It would kind of make him the biggest douche in the universe if he didn't try to do something. It was the least he could do to repay him.

"What's the matter?" he asked gently, and Cas took a deep, shuddery breath and sat down on the edge of the bed. Dean scooted over to be closer to the angel.

"M-my throat f-feels thick and it's h-hard to breathe, th-there's an ache behind m-my eyes and...and m-my v-vision is blurry."

Dean smiled at Cas. There was always something so adorable about a bewildered Cas, taken aback by his emotions and not fully understanding. "You're crying, Cas. Try taking a deep breath."

Cas followed Dean's advice and took a few deep breaths before speaking again.

"I...oh. Why does it feel s-so uncomfortable?"

"That feeling is called tightness in your chest. It happens when you cry. Your throat and chest tense up and it makes it harder to breathe, and the part behind your eyes hurts, and then the tears come out of your eyes and down your face. It's a natural response, Cas. It's all right."

"I've enjoyed all my other human emotions...I'm not sure I like this one as much."

Dean chuckled. "Nobody does, Cas. But...everybody has to cry once in a while. It's healthy."

At least, that was what Dean had always told himself when he cried at night. It's healthy. It's normal. Don't be ashamed.

But somehow, he always was, even if there was no one awake to see him do it.

"Dean, I...I feel...ashamed. I should go."

Dean knew Cas was about to mojo away again and he couldn't stop himself as he threw out a hand and grabbed the back of his trench coat. "No," he found himself saying. "Stay. I'll help you through it. Don't feel ashamed, Cas. I cry too sometimes."

Cas turned to look at the hunter perched on the bed behind him. "Really?"

Dean nodded, scooting even closer to the angel, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Really."

The angel took a few more deep breaths, and the hunter started slowly rubbing circles into Cas' shoulders, neck, and upper back. He always remembered his mother doing this for him when he cried. Back when he still had a mother. Back when there was always someone to soothe him when he cried. He had found the action incredibly soothing, and right at the moment, it was the best he could offer the broken angel.

Cas' breathing caught and then rushed out in a ragged gasp. "Dean, I..." he took another shuddery breath. "Thank you."

"My mom would always rub my back," Dean murmured, absentmindedly. "When I cried, I mean."

Cas looks back at the hunter. "I...I'm not sure you understand, Dean. You're rubbing my wings."

"What? No I'm...Oh. Well, um, is that all right, or should I stop, or-"

"It's perfectly all right, Dean. I find it incredibly soothing. They're rather sensitive and you're smoothing the feathers down gently. Thank you."

"I, um...no problem. It's just that...I can't really see them, so I have no idea what I'm doing...could you maybe mojo them up for me so I can see what I'm doing a little better?"

Cas nods gently, and Dean closes his eyes as bright white light and the scent of ozone fill the air for a moment. When Dean opens his eyes, he gasps.

Castiel's wings are...beautiful. The dark, powerful limbs stretch almost across the entire motel room. Dean takes a few feathers and rubs them softly between his fingers. They're so soft. Raven black primaries, midnight blue secondaries, glistening charcoal coverts. He feels Cas tense in front of him, and he stumbles out an apology.

"I, um, I'm sorry, I just, uh...they're very soft, I'm sorry if I didn't touch them right..."

Cas turns to look back at him. "It's all right, Dean. As I said, they're...highly...sensitive, and I'm not really in the mood."

Dean's eyes widen as he realizes what the angel means. "Oh, shit, Cas, I'm sorry, that's awkward...I didn't know..."

The angel chuckles. "It's all right, Dean. It was an accident. But...stroke gently them, please. It's rather soothing, and I don't want the tears to come back."

Dean nods, gulps past the nervous tightness in his own throat, and reaches out a few fingers to smooth the feathers down gently. First along the top of the wing, then the bottom, then he rubs his fingers in small circles where each wing meets Castiel's back.

Before he realizes what he's doing, he finds himself humming as he soothes the angel, and when he recognizes the song, it's almost too much.

He remembers Mary, singing him Hey Jude. She would always rub his back and sing to him, always that particular song, whenever Dean would cry. And in a matter of moments, Dean would have quieted. He would lay still in Mary's arms, hearing her sing, feeling her rub his back gently. He would just lay there, lost in his mother's love, until she finished the song. And she always had some wonderful surprise after, like chocolate chip pancakes or a trip to the park.

"Hey Jude," Dean murmurs quietly. "Don't make it bad,"

Cas turns back to look at him, perplexed.

"Take a sad song and make it better. Remember to let her into your heart, and then you can begin, to make it better."

Dean sings softly, his voice rasping low, as he strokes Castiel's soft feathers gently.

The angel shudders, resting his head in his hands. A quiet sob slips past and Dean continues to sing quietly.

"Hey, hush, hush Cas. It's all right. Just let it out. It's okay. I'm here."

As Dean finishes the song, the angel straightens up and draws the back of one hand across his face roughly.

"Go get cleaned up," Dean suggests. "I'll still be here."

Dean sighs and rubs the back of his neck before blinking a few times and straightening up, stretching as he hears the water running in the bathroom. He settles back onto the bed, propping up his back with a few pillows, and then sitting upright by the headboard.

The angel emerges a moment later, and Dean pats the bed next to him, somewhat dissappointed that the angel has tucked his wings away again so quickly. But then he remembers that manifesting the wings like that must be tiring, so he can understand.

Castiel settles down on the bed next to Dean.

"Dean, I'm sorry. That was probably awkward for you and embarrassing for me."

"Not really," Dean says. "I'm used to it. I was always the one to help Sammy through it when he would cry."

Cas nods, thoughtful. "That song...tell me more about it."

Dean gulps. "My mom would always sing that to me when I cried. She'd hold me close to her, and rub my back, and sing to me, until I was done. That's how it always was."

Castiel turns to Dean solemnly. "I'm sorry, Dean. I can tell that these memories don't sit with you comfortably and I'm sorry for making you feel them."

Dean shrugs. "It's all right. I think about it a lot anyways, even without your help. And...thank you for showing me your wings. They're beautiful. I mean it."

Castiel blushes. "Thank you. Though I'm not sure you understand the intimacy of that complement."

Dean flips out and almost falls off the bed. "Holy shit Cas, you showed me your angel dick?"

Cas chuckles. "No. That would be more like showing you my full Grace. Wings are more like...well, there's not really a human comparison. Wings just have so many connotations. They can be sexual. They can be soothing. They can be nurturing, protective. They can be used in violence. Wings are very complex. Just know that complementing an angel on his wings conveys a certain peculiar level of intimacy. Sort of like how kissing scars is for humans."

"Oh," Dean said quietly. Then he smirked. "You know Cas, for not being able to recognize that you're crying, you know an awful lot about the kinky shit."

Cas smiled softly. "Dean, you forget. I've been around since just after the creation of the leviathans. There is nothing I haven't seen. It's just much harder to recognize in one's self."

"I suppose you're right," Dean said quietly, thinking about how he could always tell what was bothering Sammy yet somehow he never knew quite what was eating away at himself. "Listen, Cas, what were you crying about anyways?"

Cas sighs, closing his eyes and Dean saw his jaw clench slightly, as if he was trying to keep his emotions in check, and sure enough, as he spoke, Dean could hear the shake of oncoming tears in his voice.

"It's my Father, Dean. I've failed him. I'm...I'm a horrible excuse for an angel. I have begun to emote, I've begun to question his decisions. He's made his disappointment quite clear, and I just don't know what to do. I can't go back to being blind like that, to being unable to feel. I...I need to be able to make my own choices, Dean. You showed me that. And now, I know why we must love Man over God, over everything else. Because they are free. But...if I don't go back, then sooner or later, I will Fall. And the thought of being a Fallen scares me, but the thought of losing you, of losing all I've learned down here, scares me more."

Dean sat up, and scooted over closer to the angel, whose eyes were once again welling.

"Hey, hey, it's all right," he soothed him, and he started humming Hey Jude again. It wasn't long before Castiel closed his eyes and his breathing returned to a normal rate.

"Woah, Cas...I, um...Listen. Growing up, my dad was always telling me who to be, what to do, who to talk to, how to act. He made me believe in black and white, that there were no shades of gray. But there are. And...since Dad's been gone, Sammy's been teaching me that again. That sometimes, even if something is a monster, you don't gank it. 'Cause it's doing the best it can. And...now that I can see the shades of gray, it makes everything so much harder. Now, instead of just killing the evil son of a bitch, I have to stop, and think first. That thinking has gotten me in trouble more than a few times. And...sometimes I wish I could just go back, to the black and white. See the thing, gank it. But it's not that easy. Because I know if I go back, I won't be able to live with myself later. And...if I fall deeper, I'll just think about everything so much that it'll tear me apart, Cas. I don't like to think about what would happen if I thought about it even more than I do already. Hell, I'm already barely hanging on. And I can't talk to Sammy about it because I need to watch over him, he can't be watching over me-"

Dean hadn't even noticed that he had started crying. But he knew it when Castiel rolled over on his side to look at Dean, concern evident on his face. Dean hastily wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and sat up, pulling his knees in to his chest. Cas sat next to him, and somehow just by being there he made it better.

Dean was a little startled when Cas took Dean's hand in his own, and he started turning it over and over, as if he was trying to memorize it. Finally he spoke.

"Dean, I don't care if I Fall. I can't go back to what I was. I want to be human. To carry human weights and sufferings. If only it makes you feel less alone."

Dean was taken aback. He stammered for a minute before pausing to take a deep breath, compose himself, and decide what he wanted to say. "Cas, I don't wanna give up. I wanna do the right thing. God knows I screw up enough in this life, and I want to do what's right. God, it seems so easy for Sam. To know what's the right thing. I never do. And it scares me. And...I don't wanna give up. On you, or Sam, or myself."

Castiel turns to him and smiles softly. "Dean, if you will teach me what it's like to be human, I will help you to not take your own life."

Dean growls. "No one said anything about me being suicidal!" he says, turning away from Cas.

"Dean," the angel says, calling out to him softly. "I know you. I know how some days it's just too much and you wish you could just make it all go away. I know how some days all you want to do is drink until you die. I've seen you, when you're alone, looking at your gun or your knife like an old friend, tears in your eyes, begging them for help. I know about your scars. And I don't mean the ones from battles. I know that whenever you're hurt on a hunt you enjoy it. Because you feel like you deserve it. I know you, Dean. I know that you need help but you're just too afraid to ask, because you think you break everything you touch. But you don't. You didn't break me."

Dean blinks back the tears forming in his eyes. He swallows thickly. "But I did. Because of me, you have to Fall."

Cas cocks his head. "No, Dean. I make my own choices. Because you showed me it's what's right. I chose to Fall for you. That's on me, and me alone. I am alone in my choices. But you don't have to be."

Something inside Dean broke, staring into the angel's blue eyes, so full of the concern for Dean that no one besides Sammy, Mom, and Bobby had ever shown. But they were family. They didn't count. They loved him because they had to. Castiel chose to. And somehow, just that fact alone, made Dean finally believe that he deserved to be saved.

As Dean fell back on the bed, Castiel wrapped one hand gently around the mark that he had made on the hunter, the mark that gave them both a second chance at life. Cas lay down beside him, just to let Dean know he was not alone. And the hunter fell asleep to the sound of his angel humming Hey Jude.