It was over now. All over.

Panting, Dean looked around. He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and his gaze fell on Sam. Sam looked back, lying on the ground, bloody. He looked shocked and relieved. Huffing out a breath, Sam let his head fall on the ground, his eyes shutting close.

Dean turned his gaze to Castiel, kneeling beside the body of one of the angels, Hanael or something. Dean hadn't bothered paying attention to the names. Castiel seemed to be praying, silently.

Fifteen seconds later, Castiel raised his eyes to meet Dean's. A small smile broke out on Dean's face. Castiel blinked, looking conflicted for a second before he returned a shy smile, ducking his head and following up with a sigh.

Dean still wasn't daring to move, in case, it was the quiet before the storm. Well, the bigger storm.

"It's over," Castiel murmured, rising to his feet and dusting his coat that made no difference to his shabby appearance.

Sighing, Castiel gave up and looked at the brothers, one lying on the ground and the other standing practically on his toes.

Castiel's eyes confirmed what he had said. Dean moved a little. Nothing happened. Breathing a sigh of relief, Dean moved over to stand over Sam.

"You okay, man?" he asked, kicking his side, gently, with his foot.

Grumbling and moving away from Dean's foot, Sam cracked open one eye and gave a curt nod.

"Then, get up. We'll sleep for two weeks in the batcave. Now, get up, Sammy," Dean said, holding out a hand.

Sam groaned, but took Dean's hand and just as he was about to stand, he cried out.

"I th-thought it was-just a dull pain. Shit, I might have fractured my foot, Dean," Sam said, convulsing in pain, gingerly holding his left knee.

Suddenly Dean felt very guilty for leaving Sam to fend for himself as he went to help Castiel in fighting the angels off. He turned around thinking about asking Castiel to heal Sam. He stopped short when he saw just how battered and tired Castiel looked. There were shadows around his eyes and his eyes seemed less sharp than usual. His clothes were disheveled and dirty. They'd have to get him new clothes, Dean thought, offhandedly. And immediately, he didn't want to be a dick to him. Castiel had done enough.

"Help me get him to the car?" he asked Castiel.

Castiel nodded and moved towards Dean to help Sam up.

With Sam in the backseat and Castiel riding shotgun, Dean drove as fast as he could go towards the motel. Sam's breathing was irregular and harsh. Dean knew that he was trying his best not to cry out in pain. He didn't want to alarm Dean further. Dean appreciated the concern, seeing he was so freaked out already. It was just a fracture, he knew. Curable. But he was fine and Castiel was fine but Sammy was hurt. His responsibility. Of course, he realized how much worse it could be, seeing as what they had just averted. Seeing as how Sam's health was right before this… The hacking coughs. It sounded like Sam was dying. His responsibility…

"I-I think we need to go to the ho-hospital, Dean," Sam said from the backseat, huffing out the last word.

Castiel turned to look at Dean, the beacon of reason and trust.

"Of course," Dean grumbled, swerving the car at the next turn.

He knew the plans of cities like the back of his hand. Since Dean was ten, he had started to learn the roads and the maps and as he got older, it helped when he had to haul John back to the motel they were staying in and even the couple of victims he had dropped off to the hospitals for years of therapy.

Under five minutes, they were hauling Sam out and into the white building. It smelled, as usual, of bleach and sanitizers.

"My brother fell down and his leg got fractured," he told the receptionist.

She nodded and held out the form, waving a couple of nurses in.

"Could you-?" Dean began, looking over at Castiel.

Letting the nurse lead Sam to the wheelchair, Castiel nodded. "You go on," he said, taking the clipboard and the pen the lady was offering him.

Castiel saw Dean come out of the X-Ray room with the resident doctor trailing behind with his assistant. Dean looked grim and Castiel started to get even more harried than before. He had been getting weird looks, seeing the state of his clothes. Dean was getting similar looks. They were covered in dirt, blood that was not their own and bruises from head to toe.

Dean huffed out a sigh as he sat down beside Castiel.

"It's okay," he said in a small voice. "It's a fracture and a damn bad one but it's okay. It was the trauma and the sudden twinge in his muscles causing the pain. Christ, I thought-," Dean huffed out a fake laugh. "I never thought Sam would be such a pansy."

Castiel could read right through Dean. He was worried and looked occupied with something that was not entirely Sam.

"You're worried," Castiel stated, looking intently at Dean.

"Damn right, I am," Dean said with a wry laugh.

"Not about Sam, Dean. Not only about him," Castiel said, turning around properly. "It's over. What's wrong?"

"Is it… Really? I mean, Cas… I don't know, man. Sammy… He's my responsibility and he looked like he was… He was almost gone, man. I was losing my little brother and now it's all okay. We get out with no scratches and Sammy gets out with just a fracture? You gotta agree, man, it's all fucked up."

Castiel sighed, looking away for a moment.

"I realized that it seemed all too good to be true but, Dean, look at the past few months. Every decision on our part or in the hands of another led to this point and I don't know where you're looking from, Dean, but to me it was hard. It was very hard to get to this point and I'm glad we got through unscathed because it didn't seem like we would. Regardless, we made it through and here we are in blood and flesh," he said, stilling a moment before taking Dean's hand. "We're okay, Dean. We're as okay as we could be."

Dean eyes widened as he felt the warm drag of Castiel's rough thumb over his knuckles. His brain was shouting at him, reeling with all the thoughts and Castiel's touch. He knew he should pull away and tell Castiel off but he didn't have the heart to… Besides, it felt… Good, safe.

Trust Castiel to not understand human etiquettes and make something so homo seem innocent and comforting.

Dean shook himself, internally and willed himself to answer Castiel.

"I… I hope so, Cas," he replied, quietly, looking away.

Castiel dropped his hand and turned away to mirror Dean's position. Dean missed the angel's hand in his.

"I know so, Dean."

A day and a half later that consisted of horrible hospital coffee and restless sleep in an uncomfortable chair for Dean, Sam was released from the hospital, hopped up on pain meds, and his foot in a cast.

"Dean," Sam slurred, in a sleepy tone. "You are my brother… My bro," –yawn- "And you're the best… EST."

"Sure," Dean said, rolling his eyes as Castiel and he let Sam down onto his bed in the batcave.

"He seems to be slightly inebriated," Castiel stated.

Dean snorted. "No shit, Sherlock."

"I don't understand that reference."

Dean righted his shirt, looking at Sam already out like a light.

"Let's get out of here," he said, quietly.

Dean grumbled, slapping his hand on the table in a rendition of 'Highway to Hell'.

"Dean, stop," Sam cried out. "Why don't Cas and you get out for a while? Get fresh air?"

It was a week later to the time they had gotten Sam's leg in a brace so that now he could walk.

"No can do," Dean said, rolling his head backwards in the chair to stare up at the ceiling. "Baby needs an oil change and it's too hot out."

"Dean, I don't care. Just get out of here before I kill you with that sword hanging on the wall behind me."

"Okay, okay, don't get your panties in a twist, Samantha," Dean said, clapping his shoulder and going out. "Come on, Cas," he called the angel on the way out.

The angel in question clambered out of the kitchen with a deer-in-the-headlights look, covered in flour, powdered sugar and what looked like a yolk on his shoe. Castiel had taken off his trench coat and suit jacket and looked kind of naked in only the shirt. The coat really threw the man's build out of proportions. Castiel was strong and had the build of a runner. Well, at least Jimmy did but it was Castiel's body… Whatever.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked, carefully, taking a step towards Castiel.

What kind of angel rituals required flour and eggs?

"Um… I was… Uh, baking," Castiel replied, reddening.

"Baking! Cas, what in the Hell you baking?" Dean asked, pushing Castiel out of the way to enter the kitchen.

The kitchen was in an even bigger mess than Castiel was. The floor was covered in flour and had Castiel's boot sized trails in it as he had travelled from the fridge to the counter. There were two broken eggs on the counter and one on the floor.

"I-I will clean it," Castiel said, standing uncertainly in the doorway looking apologetically at Dean.

Dean would have said something but something else on the counter caught his eye. It was a print-out of one of those online cookery sites for apple pie.

"I thought about using my grace to make it but I-I thought it would be better if I could-"

Dean hugged Castiel, interrupting him.

Castiel stiffened for a second like in Purgatory but leaned into the touch, unlike in Purgatory. He fisted his hands in Dean's jacket, awkwardly.

Pulling away, Dean looked at Castiel in the eyes, smilingly, for a moment before moving away. He picked up an apron, hanging behind the kitchen door and slipped it around Castiel's neck.

"So where were you?" he asked, taking the whisk in hand.

They followed a dinner consisting of Dean's homemade burgers with Castiel's apple pie and it was the best thing Dean had ever tasted. He couldn't stop the little moans that were forming in his mouth while eating the pie.

"Oh, get a room you two," Sam said, rolling his eyes but smiling all the same.

"You gotta agree, it's amazing," Dean said, pointing at Sam with his fork.

"It's a really good pie, Cas," Sam agreed.

"I didn't really make it. Dean did most of the work," Castiel said, ducking his head, blushing.

"Ou Eeed," Dean said, his mouth full of pie. Gulping, he continued, "I just guided you on the right path."

Castiel smiled, shyly, digging into his own slice.

"Dean," Castiel growled out, frustrated. "It won't stay up."

"Cas, shut up. Your talking is making it go soft."

"I didn't know speech had an effect on bakery items."

"Ugh. Stop talking, Cas."

"Okay, Dean."

A few moments passed.

"But why won't the jelly set, Dean?"

"We must have done something wrong. It's been four friggin' days," Dean grumbled, throwing the jelly water into the bin. "I swear it's like the easiest thing. God damn it, Cas, we even made a God damn cake from scratch that was awesome. I mean, it went right up there with pie," Dean added, moving his hand over his head.

"I don't know, Dean," he answered, shuffling his feet and staring at the ground.

Castiel looked like he thought Dean was blaming him. Dean realized that that was most probably what Castiel thought. A weird desire rose up in the general area of his chest. He wanted to hug the man and comfort him. What the Hell… A little hugging here and there was fine and manly but not every day…

Instead he sidled up close to Castiel, right into his personal space, making him look up.

"Hey, it's not your fault, okay, man," he said as swee- ahem, gruffly – as possible. "I didn't mean it that way. Besides, who cares about jelly! All I want is pie."

Castiel smiled, slightly, looking fond of Dean. The look in Castiel's eyes caught Dean unawares and he felt the heat creep up in his cheeks. He couldn't stop looking into Castiel's eyes. They were blue and huge and beautiful. Honestly, Dean shouldn't be surprised but the blue eyes always have an effect on him. The stare broke only when they heard a crash from outside, both heads whipping towards the doorway.

"Sam!" Both men cry out at the same time, heading out.

Sam's sprawled on the ground, pages from books fluttering and falling to the ground all around him.

"God damn it, you idiot!" Dean shouted, helping Sam up. "How many times do I have to tell you that call us when you need something from the higher shelves, you big goon!"

"I'm fine, Dean," Sam replied, pulling out of Dean's grip and limping to his chair.

It was a month after Sam had fractured his foot and the Gates of Hell had been closed shut with a loud bang. Sam's leg was still in a brace and going by his occasional face scrunches, he's still in pain. Dean and Castiel had assured him that he wouldn't be bothering them if he called them to pick up a book from the top shelves but the huge moose of a man insisted on climbing the ladder himself.

"Sam, you can always call us. We'd be happy to get a book down for you. This way you are delaying your recovery and extending the period of time to look out for you," Castiel said in that voice of infinite patience.

"Whatever he said," Dean said, lamely and shrugging when Sam gave him a bitchface.

"Well if you two stopped being so domestic, I'd feel better about calling one of you," Sam said, fuming.

Dean looked at him as if he had been slapped.

"Come on, Cas. Let's get out of here," Dean said, stomping away, out to the Impala.

Sam glared after him. After a few moments of looking undecided, Castiel followed Dean.

"You're angry," Castiel murmured a while later. "Of course you are," he added as though reprimanding himself for saying that in the first place.

Dean was impressed with the amount of progress Castiel had made in the past few weeks. He was faster on catching onto sarcasm and jokes. He was trying to catch up on movies with Dean and understood the pop culture references better. He was latching onto humanity better than Dean could have ever thought. He was developing little habits like shrugging and twitching his nose when something displeased him. Dean was happy that he could tell all the differences. They could read each other better than ever.

"He…," Dean began. "Son of a-" he slammed his fist onto the dashboard. "He thinks that I… That I'd ignore him in favor to you. I-I fed that… He is my little brother. Don't get me wrong, Cas. I like hanging out with you, man but… Sammy… He-"

"He's your top priority. I get it, Dean. I believe he is just tired of being stuck in the house."

"Like I am not? Like you are not? I'm sure we must be irritating. Sammy with his flatulence and me! Oh, man. Eating with an open mouth. Blasphemy. Everything angels hate in a little package. Why are you still here, Cas?"

Dean had easily steered off from the topic of conversation by spouting something that had been bothering him for a while but had never expected to ask. He was expecting – and half hoping – for Castiel to pop away.

But he didn't.

Instead he placed a warm hand on Dean's shoulder.

"I'm not going anywhere, Dean. I… Heaven may have accepted me back but I… I've never been happier than I am now. I enjoy the little things I get to do with you two, Dean. I prefer humanity. I prefer the mundane. And I love cooking for you, Dean," he said, a small smile lighting up his features at the last line.

Dean stared at Castiel. His heart was doing these little jumps. He wanted Castiel to stay but… He would never believe that Castiel loved it. He thought it was what he was used to now or that he felt too uncomfortable upstairs and was just avoiding. But to think that Castiel actually enjoyed baking and all the bitching. The fights.

"Dean!" Castiel cried out, removing his hand to grab the steering wheel.

While Dean had been busy having a staring match with the angel, the car had swerved off the road.

"Woah," Dean said, eloquently.

At the time Dean had slammed his hand into the dashboard, Sam had mirrored the stance on the table, making the old wooden table creak slightly and the coffee cup inch closer to the edge.

Sam knew that it was nothing personal that Dean spent so much time with Castiel but he just missed being able to move around.

He wasn't blind, he saw how the two looked at each other and often on innocent water runs at night(even though Dean had put a jug on his bedside table), he stopped outside Dean's (and now, Castiel's too) door to hear what they were talking about or if their thoughts were at all incriminating. Sam was half disappointed and half relieved to find that he had been wrong. The two obviously liked each other and their relationship ran way deeper than innocent friendship. He believed that they had crossed that path when Castiel had gripped Dean tight and raised him from Perdition.

Sam liked Castiel. He really liked him. The weight he added to the conversations and the food he helped put on the table. The angel was one of the Winchesters' closest friends and part of the family. Besides, Castiel took Sam's side in arguments. Mostly.

Dean and Castiel worked for each other. They were both broken and capable of understanding the extent of damage. Castiel could call Dean out on his bullshit and Dean could teach Castiel everything human. The thing was, they were already doing this. They had been doing this since a long time.

He sighed, thinking of whatever he had said to Dean. He'd have to apologize. In his defense, he was tired of being incapable of doing small tasks and hated breaking Dean and Castiel's meetings in the kitchen.

He rested his head on his arms, waiting for his brother to come back.

"Wake up, Sammy," Dean called, banging on the table, right beside Sam's ear.

Sam woke with a start and winced as his neck cracked.

"Ugh, what time is it?"

"Eight. Cas is serving dinner. Come on, you moose," Dean said, turning around.

Dean was trying to pretend as though everything was normal but Sam could read right through the act.

"Dean! Wait," he called out, scrambling to his feet.

Dean was standing a step down from Sam and Sam ended up practically towering over his elder brother.

"I gotta help, Cas, man. Be quick," Dean said, offhandedly.

He cleared his throat and climbed the step to be able to reach the normal height difference between the brothers.

"I'm sorry, man," Sam started. When he saw Dean opening his mouth and raising his hand, he interrupted him, "Let me say it. Look I appreciate everything the two of you have been doing and you, Dean… You've been doing it forever. Thank you, Dean. I don't say it often. But, just- I'm tired, man. I'm tired of being cooped up here like an invalid. I don't envy you spending time with Cas either. I like that he can keep you occupied so that you don't interrupt my reading," – short, undecided laugh – "So, uh, yeah…"

"It's okay, Sammy. I'm sorry too," Dean said, trying to be unconcerned but he seemed happier and lighter now.

As Dean was turning around, Sam added, "Hey, Dean. You know even if you had fractured your foot, Cas would still chose to spend time with you."

Dean frowned at his little brother but without a word, headed towards the dining table.

With a little effort of making the needles and pins feel leave his legs, Sam followed.

Castiel had made pie again. Blueberry this time.

Sated and happy, Dean leaned back in chair. He burped lightly at which Sam shoved him.

"Ew, man," Sam said, wrinkling his nose.

"Sam you got no ground to say that, y'know," Dean told him sternly pointing a finger at him.

Sam rolled his eyes but kept quiet.

Dean's phone started to buzz. It was an unknown number. The number of unknown calls had decreased in the past month, so, Dean was wary about this call. He picked it up anyway.

"Dean?" a strikingly familiar woman's voice asked.

"One and only."

The woman heaved a sigh as though she had searched long and hard for his number. Maybe she had.

"I've been looking all over for you. You hid yourself well," she commented, cementing Dean's doubts.

"Who is this?"

"Uh… Cassie."

"Cassie! What happened?" Dean's eyes almost bulged out of his skull.

"Hi, Dean," she said, lamely. "How have you been?"

"Busy. What about you?"

"Ah… Busy, myself."

"Why did you call? Ghost or ghoul botherin' you?"

"Oh, no. Nothing like that… It's worse. Much worse."

Dean's breath caught in throat, imaging the worst case scenarios but nothing could have prepared him for what came next.

"I… Dean when you were in Athens… The last we met… I got… There's no easy way to say this. You have an eight year old daughter."

Dean stayed quiet.

"I-I know it's a lot to take in. The second I realized… I've been trying to find your number since that moment, Dean but I didn't locate you until now when my path crossed with a hunter you know, Garth, is it?"

"Garth," Dean confirmed.

"Yes, him…"

"Why are you telling me?"

"For one, you should know and for the other… Well… Again, there's no easy way to say this… I-I'm dying, Dean."

Silence.

"I have fourth stage brain tumor and… I don't have much time left… My mother died a couple of years ago… Mary has no one left."

"Mary?" Dean asked, hesitantly.

"Mary Jane Winchester. I'm sure you don't remember… But," she sounded sheepish, now. "The first time around. Well, once, right after we… You know, had sex, you said, you wanted to name our daughter Mary. Jane was my grammy's name."

"I like it," Dean said in a small voice.

"Thank I guess," she said. Sighing, she continued, "Could you maybe meet me soon? We need to make arrangements…"

"I'll be there," he said, shortly.

He hung up.

Two pairs of curious eyes were boring into his skull.

"Dean?" Sam asked, almost scared.

"I… Sammy… It was Cassie… You remember? Well… Yeah… So… The last time we met, we…" Deep breath. "I have a daughter, Sammy and the mother of my daughter is dying."