Dean had sort of hoped that his family would always be just that – a family, and that even when he and his brother Sam were older his parents would always be there for him; for both of them.

But sadly, fate was cruel.

His mother and father both died in a car accident when Dean was only fourteen and Sam was only ten, and since then they lived with their Uncle Bobby who was their only next of kin after their grandparents had both died when they were too young to remember. Life went on as normally as it could after that and Dean, seeing no reason for a college education, got his GED and got out of the school system fast, looking for work where he could, whereas Sam went on to go to law school and meet the girl of his dreams.

Dean could still clearly remember the day he'd been stuffed into a tight tuxedo and forced to stand with Sam by the altar as Jessica, in all her beauty, walked down the aisle toward him. And, despite how much Dean had complained, it had been the proudest day of his life to see his brother standing there, smiling so broadly.

And he could see how happy Jessica and Sam made each other.

Never, though, in all of his life would he thought that fate would be this cruel.

Dean sat in the waiting room of the hospital, his face pale as he wrung his hands worriedly. He'd always promised himself after their parents died that he'd protect Sam and be there for them, but he hadn't been there; he'd been goofing off at some bar and Sam, worried because he wasn't answering his phone, had gone to find him.

That was when a drunk driver veered off the road and slammed into him head-on.

The doctors said it was a miracle for Sam to even be alive now, but he would not last much longer. It was hopeless. He was dying. There was nothing they could do. So Dean had stayed silent as Jessica, poor Jessica, simply collapsed by her husband's bedside and sobbed.

And Sam . . . well, he hadn't opened his eyes since the crash, and according to the doctors he would never open them again.

Restless from sitting in the waiting room, Dean stood and walked out of the hospital, feeling as if he was finally able to breathe without the weight of oppression that crushed in around him inside the building. The air outside was frigid with the promise of winter, and a light rain drizzled around him in sheets as water droplets caught in his hair, making him shudder when the chilly moisture hit his skin.

Unsure, hopeless, and fearing for his brother, Dean did the only thing he could think of.

He looked up to the sky, and though he felt stupid for doing this – because of all the things Dean Winchester was, religious was definitely not one of them – it was not the time for doubts. Sammy was running out of time.

"My brother is dying!" He shouted up to the heavens. "And I can't . . . I can't lose him! He's the only family I have left!" Tears gathered in his eyes, but he ignored them. "Please . . . I don't care who you are, just help me!"

Dean heard a sudden strange noise then, as the echo of his shout faded away; it was like the sound of wings on the wind. And then a hand on his shoulder made him jump and spin around, his eyes widening as he saw the man standing there.

And yet . . . he wasn't a man.

The newcomer's face, despite looking human, was as emotionless as a blank slate; unresponsive and almost cold, though there was mercy and warmth in his stare if you looked deep enough. Bright blue eyes peered out from under a mop of unruly dark brown hair, and he was dressed as if he'd just come from an office cubicle; the clothes seeming extremely out of place on him.

He looked innately human, and yet something about him was so off that Dean knew instantly he wasn't.

"Who are you?" Dean asked uncertainly.

The man - or whatever he was - tilted his head to the side and scrutinized Dean levelly. "My name is Castiel."

His voice was deep; almost gravelly. It was a tone most would describe as coarse and rough, but somehow Dean detected gentleness beneath it, something others would not see if they only skimmed the surface.

So, thrown off by his – Castiel's – voice, Dean took a moment before replying, throwing back a harsh demand with it. "What are you, Castiel?"

"I am an angel of the Lord."

Dean blinked. "Yeah, and I'm the president of the United States."

Castiel's eyes darkened. "You do not believe me?"

"Hello, no. Why would I?"

"You forget that you're the one who called for help." Castiel pointed out.

Dean shook his head. "Yeah, but . . . I - I was –"

"- Expecting something else?" Castiel finished.

"I'm not really sure what I was expecting, truthfully." Dean admitted as he pulled himself from his memories. "I . . . I don't think I expected anything."

Castiel offered him an indulgent smile. "How can you pray for help without having faith in what you're praying to, Dean Winchester?"

He knows my name.

"I suppose I'll have to give you proof, then." Castiel sighed, "I know you well enough to understand how stubborn your skeptic side can be."

Dean opened his mouth to snarl out a sarcastic and highly inappropriate retort, but the words died on his tongue as the streetlight above him flickered and nearly shattered, and a strange sound rumbled around him as the very ground shook beneath his feet. And then, just barely visible in the shadows he saw Castiel's true form, and the wings that spread from his back – dwarfing Dean with their size and strength – were nothing short of terrifying.

It's true . . .

Castiel smiled as the wind calmed and the light settled around him. "Do you believe now?"

Stubborn as always, Dean swallowed hard and ignored the question, instead proposing one of his own. "Can you heal my brother?"

"I can."

"What do you want in return?" Dean asked desperately, for he figured that something like this must come with a price attached, and with every second that ticked by he could feel his brother's life trickling through his fingers. "I'll do ianything./i"

Castiel looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"What's the price I have to pay for you to heal Sam?" Dean clarified, frustration bubbling up inside of him at the delay.

"There is no price."

Dean froze, completely taken aback. "What?"

Castiel smiled. "That's not how we work, Dean. You pray and we hear you. And, if it is God's will, your prayers are answered."

Dean swallowed hard, feeling stupid for what he was about to say. "So, is it . . . is it His will that you heal Sam?"

Castiel raised his chin in something that was almost akin to arrogance, seeming to grow a bit taller as the air crackled around him. "I will heal your brother."

Dean's mouth fell open. "Wait, you mean . . . just like that?"

Castiel seemed slightly annoyed by Dean's continued skepticism. "Yes, Dean. Just like that."

"But . . ."

"We must hurry." Castiel said urgently, cutting him off. "Your brother doesn't have much time left, and I'd rather not have to pull him back from the afterlife; it's much harder than simply healing him. So take me to him, and be quick!"

Bewildered and confused and sort of freaked out (which was an understatement, by the way), Dean re-entered the hospital with the angel in tow, despite how strange the very thought sounded to him, even in his own head. They got to Sam's room in record time, and Dean had to pause for a moment in the doorway, surprised that Jessica was no longer there.

"Where did she go?"

"Bathroom." Castiel said suddenly, "She left just seconds ago, but we don't have much time."

"How do you know that she's in the bathroom?"

Castiel gave him a scathing look that dared him to dispute his power, and Dean, for once, backed down. After all, his brother's life was hanging in the balance; he couldn't exactly afford to be sarcastic and skeptic right now, could he?

"Uh, how long will this take?" Dean asked, his voice sounding tight and strangled even to him as he looked down at the sight of Sam, so broken and bloodied, in the hospital bed with his neck in a cast and so many IVs connected to him. They'd had to put him on life support just to keep him alive while they did their tests, though they were sure to pull the plug soon enough.

But Castiel will save him.

Dean believed this. He believed it with all his heart. In fact, he felt as if had to believe it, because if he didn't believe it then he would break; he would crumble into pieces with the realization that he'd lost everyone dear to him.

So he had to believe, or there would be no hope left for him.

"It won't take long." Castiel replied, stepping forward and placing his hands on Sam's chest.

Dean wasn't sure what he was expecting; maybe a flare of holy light or a burst of sparks, or at least some sort of reaction from Castiel, but when the angel merely stepped back just moments later and nothing felt different, Dean's heart skipped a beat as pure fear flooded into his gut.

Did it work?

And then suddenly Sam's eyes flickered open.

"Sammy!" Dean ran forward and grabbed his brother's shoulders, "Sam, you're alive!"

"H-hey, Dean." Sam smiled, looking confused and yet strangely happy. "Wh-what happened?"

"It's a long story." Dean gasped, overcome with joy and relief because his brother was okay. Sam was fine. In fact, he didn't have a scratch on him.

The door to the room opened just then and Jessica walked in, her face streaked with the remnants of her mascara as she wiped the tears that she'd been trying to hide off her face, but then she suddenly looked up and saw Sam and her eyes widened.

"S-Sam?"

Sam smiled. "Hey, babe."

And then Jessica was running over to him, collapsing in his arms and sobbing on his shoulder amidst teary professions of love and gratefulness for the miracle that had befallen them, and despite the cheesiness of it all, Dean couldn't help the smile that stretched across his face.

As relief calmed him, however, he suddenly remembered the reason Sam was sitting up in bed, talking and kissing his wife and joking as if nothing had happened.

It was because of Castiel, the angel.

But when he turned to where the angel had been standing before, Castiel was nowhere to be seen; it was like he'd simply disappeared into thin air, and actually Dean wouldn't dispute the idea. It bugged him, though, because he hadn't gotten a proper chance to thank him. He did remember what Castiel had said earlier, though, about how when he prayed the angels would hear him.

So as they stood outside in the waiting room a few moments later, Dean watched an overjoyed Jessica checked Sam out of the hospital amidst cheers and well-wishes from the doctors gathered around whom – despite being completely baffled by the miracle of Sam's instant recovery – weren't questioning it, for there was no other explanation. It had been a miracle; plain and simple, and Dean thanked whoever was listening dearly for that, hoping that the one angel he was thinking of was listening.

Thank you, Castiel . . . thank you so much.

X X X

A week after Sam's miraculous recovery, things were going great; everything was practically back to normal, and everyone had put the car accident behind them, simply reveling in the fact that Sam was there with them somehow, completely unscathed save for a few bruises and sore spots.

Because that was nothing compared to what could've been.

It was on that Sunday, however, that Dean showed up and Sam and Jessica's place, dressed in a suit he looked extremely uncomfortable in as he mumbled something about wanting to go to church with them that morning.

Sam was speechless. Jessica, however, literally cried out in joy and tackled him in a violent hug that almost had him toppling off his feet. Then, babbling excitedly about how happy she was and how good it was that they had gotten ready early that morning, she dragged Dean and Sam – who was still sort of frozen in shock – out to their car, and they were off.

During the entire ride there, though, Dean was mulling over his decision to go to church and wondering if it was a good idea. But, after witnessing an angel and – he grudgingly admitted – a miracle that could've been done by none other hand than that of God, he realized it'd be pretty hard to stay away in the end.

Also, besides realizing that his entire view on religion was changing, he also wanted to know what he was dealing with.

The church Jessica and Sam attended wasn't huge and extravagant; it was a nice little church a bit further out from the city limits, and it was one of those churches were everyone there knew each other and had known each other since they were kids, and yet they welcomed outsiders.

Dean was welcomed warmly and, as he took a seat beside Jessica and Sam in one of the front row pews, he decided that maybe this wouldn't be too bad after all.

Though the sermon that day, ironically, was set in Revelations; discussing the angel's, their hierarchy, and what their purpose was. And Dean wondered disjointedly as the sermon ended and they were dismissed if Castiel and the other angels in Heaven were laughing at him.

He knew he probably would be.

"Quite the contrary."

Dean jumped, surprised by the familiar deep voice, and turned to see that Castiel was standing right there literally just a few feet from him; so close that the tip of his nose nearly brushed Dean's.

"Castiel . . ." Dean breathed.

"Hello, Dean."

Extremely conscious of his personal space, especially with the angel invading it so blatantly in public, Dean stepped back to put distance between them.

"What are you doing here?" Dean asked, his mouth feeling a bit dry.

"We're not laughing at you, Dean." Castiel said, ignoring his question and instead addressing Dean's earlier thoughts. "In fact, we're rejoicing. To be able to see you in church; in worship . . . Dean, you have no idea what that means to us."

Dean's eyes widened. "Seriously?"

"Yes."

"Wow, Cas. I'm flattered." Dean said, surprising himself when his tone was devoid of sarcasm.

Castiel tilted his head to the side. "What did you call me?"

Dean blinked. "Uh . . . Cas. I called you Cas. Sorry, it just sort of slipped out –"

"Never mind." Castiel cut him off sharply, looking a bit flustered. "I simply came to tell you that your idea of us laughing at you was a mistake. Now I must be off; farewell."

"Wait, Cas –!"

But Castiel was already gone, his departure accompanied by the almost inaudible sound of wings that only one listening closely could hear, and Dean was left feeling stupid and confused and altogether wistful – which was extremely unlike him.

"Dean!"

Dean turned to see Sam waving him over, grinning widely, and he sighed.

Here we go.

"What's up, Sammy?"

Sam glanced over to where Dean had been standing with Castiel just moments before. "Who was that guy you were with? I've never seen him here before, and Jess says he was at the hospital the day I woke up."

"Oh, he's a friend." Dean said, making the lie up on the spot. "His name is Castiel, and he's somewhat of a bible freak. He prayed with me when you were in the hospital, and he's actually the reason I came today. He just wanted to see what I thought of the sermon and stuff."

Well, it's sort of the truth . . .

"Oh." Sam's face cleared and he smiled, "Okay."

After that Sam and Jessica left, wanting to get home so they could eat lunch, and Dean said he'd just get a cab back to his apartment; he didn't want to make Sam drive him all the way there.

But, as the two left, Dean had to wonder why he hadn't told his brother about Castiel and who – or more, what – he really was.

Because he'd never believe you.

Dean sighed.