Title: Consolation Prize

Disclaimers/note: I don't own anything to do with Supernatural, so much so I don't even watch much more than Castiel's scenes. That's it. So pardon my ignorance and the mistakes I may make due to my unfamiliarity with this universe.

Set: after 8x10.

Summary: Devastated that he was compelled to kill Samandriel, Castiel stabs himself with the angel blade.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Pairing: leaning towards Destiel

Blackness parting, slits of faint light rushed Castiel's awareness. Next, there was a dull throbbing in his guts he became aware of and all the memories came with it at the same time as his surrounds permeated his consciousness. The angel welcomed neither, at this moment in time he didn't want anything to do with this world. Killing himself was useless as he was always made to come back, resurrection harder on him every time, so at the very least he had been hoping that he had damaged his vessel and grace enough to keep him unconscious and saved from having to live with himself for a while. But the voice that was calling out to him wasn't helping.

Castiel had to become aware that he was lying on a freshly made, quite comfortable bed and that Dean was holding his hand, talking to him. The angelic creature had no inclination to open his eyes, but the hunter's voice so concerned and upset that he finally complied with the request. His vision swam a little at first and he wasn't sure if it was because of the unshed tears or the weakness caused by letting some of his grace flow out the self inflicted stab wound earlier, but now his mind concentrated on his surroundings enough to be able to focus on a language that wasn't Enochian and understand what Dean was saying.

"Cas, don't do this to me man, are you all right?" The resting man nodded weakly, prompting more concerned looks from his friend, "we bandaged our stomach as best as we could, but didn't do much else with the wound cause we thought you'd heal yourself? Can you heal yourself?"

"Not fully yet," Castiel sighed. He didn't test his powers and had no inclination to do so. He deserved to suffer for making the wrong choices that many times.

"What happened back there?"

"Samandriel attacked me and I acted in self defence," Castiel recited what he was compelled to say.

"Are you in pain?" Dean remained sympathetic.

Castiel stared at him. He was in some pain, but he deserved a lot more. The emotional pain of being a failure as an angel and as a friend however, Castiel wanted to block out. So he answered, "yes."

Hating to see his favourite angel suffer, Dean scrambled agitatedly to retrieve his jacket from the back of a chair and take a box of vicodin out its pocket, "these should help," he walked over to the sink for some water, "can you sit up for a bit?"

Castiel groaned, leaning up on one elbow, "will those make me sleep? I'll be okay, I just need to sleep."

"I don't know," Dean permitted, "perhaps, if you take the whole box," he deposited several tablets into Castiel's palm, "if not, I could send Sam out for some sleeping pills later when he comes back." The angel nodded, holding his hand out for the rest of the tablets.

"I should change those bandages, they've soaked through," Dean stood to get their first aid box they've carried around everywhere.

"No," Castiel said forcefully. The fallen angel was quite sure the wound was pretty much healed over by now despite no conscious effort from his part, but he didn't want Dean to know that. The hunter's concern, somebody watching over him for a change felt so good he wanted to prolong the experience. Worn out and not caring about much anymore, he let his instincts take over, "just let me sleep Dean," he closed his eyes and turned on his injured side, "please," he muttered.

"Okay Cas, okay, just rest then," Dean unfurled the covers at the bed's feet and pulled them up on top of his angel till his chest. Having talked to Castiel he wasn't as worried as he had been before, but the injured man's behaviour still troubled him. Purgatory would've left his mark on anyone, never mind the experience of falling, misusing and getting high on powers or the taking over of Sam's hallucinations. The hunter knew that physically, Castiel wasn't in the best state either. It was obvious his powers were not working a hundred percent since coming back, what's more it was possible they never would be. All that added up to a solid conviction in Dean, that he should or would not let Castiel out of his sight. Perhaps he should think of some kind of binding spell to make sure Cas was ok before he headed off somewhere, well anywhere. It would have to be a powerful spell and maybe didn't exist, but Cas' frail state might make it more likely so he opened his laptop for research.

It didn't take long till Castiel's breathing deepened, but instead of a restful sleep every rise of his chest was accompanied by a weak moan. Dean couldn't concentrate this way, not when reminded of his discomfort on a constant basis. Hoping that he could offer the napping angel some kind of comfort, he climbed onto the bed next to him with his laptop and used one hand to draw soothing circles on Castiel's back. "I'm here if you need me Cas," he assured the wounded celestian. The moans quietened in response with only the occasional sigh escaping the angel's lips and for the moment, Dean had to do with that.

Tbc