There was nothing. Nothing to hear, nothing to see, nothing to touch, to taste, to feel. He had always believed that when he found himself here he would be unaware, that the emptiness would include his own thoughts. It didn't. He was aware of where he was (nowhere), and aware of what he had lost (everything). It was torture.

He felt nothing physically, but the pain he felt in this vast emptiness was immeasurable. He tried to sum up the sound of a bird singing in the morning, but he couldn't. He tried to hear laughter in his head, but he couldn't bring it forth. He just knew that he knew what they sounded like, and he knew that he missed them, but he couldn't comfort himself by thinking about them properly.

The same was true of faces. He tried to picture the faces that made him miserable to think about his loss. That had brought him joy, that he knew were family, but he couldn't see anything. He couldn't even think what a face was supposed to look like.

Who would dream up this torture for an angel? How could his father let this happen to his children? He was gone. He was in The Empty. But on some level, he still existed and he couldn't understand why. He would rather be in hell.

"Cas!?"

The physical pain hit him suddenly and violently and he flinched. He couldn't open his eyes but the brightness behind his eyelids as he became aware felt blinding.

"Shit, Cas. Sorry, man. I didn't want to touch to wake you, but you, uh, needed to stop dreaming so I…"

The whispering trailed off, and Castiel was relieved that the pain stopped for a moment. He managed not to flinch when it came again.

"You want something to eat, Cas?"

He tried to reply. "No thank you, Sam." He wondered if Sam even heard his pained whisper, but he couldn't bear to speak any louder. A sigh at the door told him he had.

"You promised you would eat more than once today, Cas."

He didn't move.

"Fine," the soft sigh came again. "I'll let you away with breakfast, but you're getting up for lunch."

Castiel nodded very slightly then slowly pulled the sheet over his face. His comforter had been pulled off hours ago. It was too heavy and too restrictive.

He heard the door shut softly as Sam left, and that was when the tears began. They stung his still-closed eyes and burned his skin.

"How is he?"

Sam frowned at the affected nonchalance on his brother's face as he asked, yet again, the question that always followed any conversation with Cas.

"The same," Sam replied, taking a seat across from Dean at the war table. He watched as his big brother's head dropped into his hands and his shoulders drooped back to where they'd been sitting in defeat since shortly after the angel turned up at the bunker nearly two weeks ago. He wished Dean wouldn't get his hopes up; it was killing Sam to watch it. "Dean…"

"Save it, Sam."

"You don't even know what I was going to say!"

Dean raised bloodshot eyes and glared at his brother, before saying in a mocking tone, "we can't force him to get back to normal, Dean. He's been through a difficult time, Dean. Maybe if you talked to him, Dean."

Sam stared back at his brother, flushing slightly as he realised that there was no exaggeration to the complaint. He had been spouting platitudes and advice since Castiel came home; but he had no idea what else to do.

"I wasn't going to say any of that," he said with a slight huff.

"What this time, then? We should just give up?"

Sam slammed his hands on the table in anger. "Don't you fucking dare, Dean. Don't you dare suggest that I would say that. He's my brother, Dean. He's family. He died for us, again, and I would never, ever, suggest that we just give up on him."

"You did before," Dean said quietly.

"Don't, fucking, dare."

Dean eventually looked away from Sam's glare. He knew that Sam would do anything for Cas, and that any suggestions of giving up had been from a belief that their angel was dead and gone, and that Dean was making himself ill trying to fix something that couldn't be fixed.

"What do we do, Sam? Huh? How the hell do we fix him? He can't go on like this! None of us can. Nobody could survive the way that he's going. He's fading away in front of us and we can't do a fucking thing about it!" Dean's voice was slowly building to a crescendo. "We have to do something!"

"I know, Dean." Sam's voice was quiet and pained.

"It hurts to watch him, Sam," Dean confessed quietly.

"I know, Dean."

They sat in tortured silence for several minutes until Dean suddenly stood up and grabbed the Impala's keys from the table. He stalked towards the bunker's exit, saying nothing to Sam until the younger hunter shouted to him that Cas was getting up for lunch. "I'll be here," was thrown over his shoulder gruffly, and ten seconds later the bunker's door closed firmly.

Sam sighed and threw his head back, taking a moment to do the same thing he had done every day since Castiel had died in front of them four months ago.

Chuck, I'm still waiting. We need you, and you owe us. You owe Cas most of all, and he's going to wither away and die unless you do something to help us. I don't care what help you send us, but it better arrive fucking quickly, or I'm going to lose both my brothers, and I deserve better than that.

His prayer finished, he decided that he needed to do what he did best. Research.

Dean was driving aimlessly, but he didn't care. Driving calmed him down, and the silence of the bunker was driving him crazy. He needed to get himself away; as usual his worry and concern were ready to manifest themselves as anger, and the last thing he needed to do was shout at Cas. The guy had only just stopped flinching every time they spoke. Pulling over to the side of the road, Dean slammed his hands on the steering wheel and shouted in frustration. He had no idea how to fix this.

The moment Castiel had reappeared at the bunker had been the best of Dean's entire life. If he hadn't been sure of his feelings for his best friend already, then the joy the burst through his entire body and the sob that had erupted from his throat as he pulled the dishevelled angel into his arms would have told him so.

One of the worst moments of his life was the next second when Cas had cried out as if in pain and struggled in Dean's grip until he let go, collapsing on the ground in front of the two astonished hunters with his hands over his ears and moaning. Dean had stood by, useless, while Sam had tried to get through to Cas, and eventually ignored the pained cries and lifted him into the bunker as gently as possible. Dean had followed in shock, his heart breaking with every moan and every flinch.

Since that day, Castiel had made slight improvements, but not enough for Dean's peace of mind. Now, if they could persuade him to get him, they could talk around him in low voices – but only after a long while of him getting used to the ambient noise around him. A very light touch elicited a slight wince instead of a flinch, but only if he saw it coming. Dean had been avoiding touching Cas at all, however much he wanted to gather him in his arms and make him feel better.

They couldn't go on like this. Dean couldn't stand it, and Castiel certainly couldn't.

There was a look on Sam's face when Dean got back to the bunker that said he'd been researching, and he was about to open a can of worms. Usually Dean hated that look on his brother's face, but this time he couldn't help but hope that Sam's can of worms would settle into something good for all of them.

Cas shuffled quietly into the room, as usual, while Dean sat waiting at the war room table. Sam was making lunch, which meant they'd be eating canned soup and sandwiches, but it was something that Cas had been managing to eat, so Dean wasn't about to complain.

"Hey, Cas," he said, glad to see that Castiel didn't react other than to give him a soft smile. He'd been up for a while, then. He watched as the angel (human?) sat across from him at the table. They didn't speak, but just sat looking at each other. Dean noted the red eyes, the dark smudges under the eyes, and the haunted look within them. He forced his hands into fists to stop himself reaching out.

"Hey, guys," Sam said a few minutes later, calling them through to the kitchen. Sure enough, a steaming bowl of soup sat for each of them, and an individual plate of sandwiches sat beside each bowl. They sat quietly as they ate, everyone working hard to avoid cutlery scraping plates, and both Dean and Sam watching carefully as Castiel slowly made his way through the food Sam had prepared for him. It was as he was about to lift his final sandwich that Sam finally spoke.

"So, uh, Cas?" Castiel just stared at him, the sandwich hovering above the plate he had lifted it from. "We want to help you, we need to help you, and I think I've found some things, but, uh, there's a couple of things I need to know first. Do you think you could answer my questions?"

The peanut butter and jelly was lowered carefully back down before Cas folded his hands together on the table and he nodded.

"OK," Sam blew out a sot breath. "This might not be overly pleasant, but we need to know, ok? If you want to get better, you need to talk to us, ok?"

Castiel looked slightly terrified, and Dean swallowed past a sudden lump in his throat. If Castiel would have welcomed it, he'd have taken the other man's hand in his and held it tightly. Secret feeling be damned. The angel nodded once, and dropped his eyes to the table.

"Cas, were you in hell?"

Two set of eyes shot to Sam's face in surprise.

"Hell? Sammy, why the hell would he have gone there?" Dean hissed, careful to not shout like he wanted to.

"No, Sam. I was not in hell."

Both hunters turned to look at Cas, waiting for him to continue. He didn't seem to be in any hurry to continue, however.

"I assume you weren't in heaven, either?" Sam asked gently. A shake of the head was his answer.

"Cas, was it-?"

"I was in the Empty."

The room was silent for several seconds. Sam was trying to think very carefully about what to ask next. There was only one reason Cas could have come back from nothingness so afraid to be touched and pained by loud noises.

"Cas. The, uh, the empty. Did you…did you know that you were there?"

Castiel nodded again, his head dropping once more.

"Cas, you mean you were in that, that void, and you were aware of yourself? That's sick, man!" Dean trailed off when Sam reached out and touched his shoulder. The younger hunter was staring at Castiel with wide eyes, and Dean turned to face him too. He quickly saw that the angel's stooped shoulders were shaking. The lump was suddenly back in Dean's throat, and his own eyes quickly filled with tears as he realised that Cas was crying.

"Cas," he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. Realising he couldn't speak to give him comfort, he stood and slowly walked round the table, crouching down next to Cas when he reached him. "Can I touch you, Cas? Please?" he whispered.

Castiel didn't acquiesce, but neither did he panic and say no, so Dean carefully reached out a hand and rested it ever so gently onto the man's dark head, and began to slowly stroke his hair. He ignored every instinct in him that told him to gather his crying best friend into his arms and never let go.

They sat this way for several minutes, until Castiel seemed to pull himself together enough to speak. He lifted his head and swivelled his eyes from one brother to the next, trying his best to be unashamed of the tears on his cheeks and the redness of his eyes. He was only vaguely aware that the tears didn't burn his skin this time.

"I never thought that it would be like that. That an angel could go there and be aware themselves. I couldn't see or hear anything, I didn't feel anything, but I was aware."

"Oh, Cas…" Dean whispered.

"I don't mean that I was myself, not entirely. I mean that I was aware that I was in nothing, and that I had lost my family. I had lost you both, and I had failed."

"You never failed us, Cas."

"Yes, Dean. I did. And I knew that. I knew that I had lost something that mattered profoundly, but I couldn't give myself the comfort of remembering what had made be happy." Cas startled Dean by leaning to one side and into him, but responded quickly with a gentle arm around his back, scared to touch him, but scared to make him think Dean was pushing him away. When Castiel began to sob and turned his face into Dean's neck, the hunter slid his arms around the angel, then gradually tightened his hold on him. Evidently the instinct to seek comfort at this moment was stronger than the fear of being touched.

Dean looked at his brother helplessly. "What do we do, Sam?"

Sam looked on the verge of tears himself. "He's basically been in an extreme form of solitary confinement, and Chuck knows how long it felt to him. I had thought it would be some form of PTSD. I'll do some research. Keep him talking."

Sam quietly got up and left the room, while Dean kept a tight hold of his angel, for as long as he was allowed to.

Over the course of the afternoon, Sam looked up all the psychological help he could find for his friend, while Dean was devastated to discover that Cas' time in the Empty had felt like an eternity, and that he believed that his time there had been some sort of punishment from his father. By dinner time, Castiel was dozing on his bed, while Dean sat on a chair next to him, staring at his friend with an aching heart and his own tears dripping down his face.

A soft knock announced Sam's presence at the door, and Dean quickly wiped his face with his hands before standing to open it and speak quietly to his brother. "How is he?"

"He's asleep."

"Nightmares?"

"Not yet."

"Well, that's got to be a good sign. It usually doesn't take him this long."

"He basically cried himself to sleep, Sammy. He's probably too drained."

"Are you staying in here with him?"

"I don't really-"

"I'm not saying you should leave him alone, Dean. Really I'm just asking if I should go out for pizza in a while, then we can make a plan while we eat."

"You got an idea how to help him?" Dean asked eagerly.

"A couple. I'm really just making it up from reading people's stories of reintegrating after being isolated for a long time, but it's the best we have. Can't exactly call up a therapist and ask them to take an angel on their books."

Dean snorted. "I can't imagine Cas talking his way around his situation all that well either."

"No. So we're it."

"Can we start when he wakes up?"

"If he's ready for it."

"What do you mean?" Dean frowned.

Sam sighed. "I mean that my plan is basically to gradually build up his senses until noises and touch and textures and things don't bother him anymore."

"That sounds easy enough."

"It's probably gonna terrify him, Dean."

"Yeah," he sighed. "I know."

"And you, too."

"Me? What the fuck have I got to do with it?"

"There's gonna have to be a lot of talking about feelings, Dean. About how he's feeling, and what he wants. You are gonna have to be open and honest with him too."

"I always tell him the truth."

"You're lying to me right now."

"What the fuck, Sam? I do! I tell him he's ok, I tell him when he pisses me off, I-"

"Have you told him that you love him?"

Sam would have laughed at the look on his brother's face if their situation hadn't been so serious. Normally, he would have loved this moment of letting Dean know that he was well aware of his feelings for Cas, but at this moment he needed Dean to understand how important it was.

"I mean it, Dean. He needs to know how you feel."

Dean opened his mouth three times to protest, before his shoulders slumped in defeat. "I might scare him off, Sam. How can we help him if I tell him and he runs off?"

"Why the hell would he run away? He's been waiting for you to tell him you love him back for a long time!"

"Love him back? What the hell are you talking about?" There was no way that Castiel wanted him too. Absolutely no way.

"Dean, are you actually this dense? He's been telling you he loves you for years, in everything that he does. And just a few months ago, he actually said it!"

"He told you?"

"No, dumbass. He told you. He was dying at the time, but he said 'I love you', right before he said he loved me and Mom as his family too. That first one? All you."

"But…Sam…he didn't, he can't…what?"

"Christ, your so blind when it comes to this shit. Just tell him the truth, ok? Then he might give it all a shot, and he might find it easier to tell you the truth about what's going on with him."

"Sam…"

"No, just go. I'll let you know when I head out for pizza, and you can wake him if he's still asleep and we'll get started if he's willing. Use the time in between to find your balls."

"Fuck you, bitch."

"Love you too, Jerk."

Sam pulled the door out of Dean's hands and closed it gently. Dean stared at it for several moments before turning around to face the slumbering angel, and making his way slowly back to his seat. He looked over the beautiful face in front of him, more relaxed in this moment than it had been since he had arrived back from the Empty. He was a little pale, but that just made his dark eyelashes stand out more starkly against his skin, and gave his lips a rosier hue. Grinning softly at the girly thoughts running through his head, he reached out and softly pushed back the hair that was lying on Cas' forehead. And finally let himself think about it.

He thought about what life could be like if he let himself love this man in front of him. He thought about having someone to wake up with, someone to cuddle into on a lazy morning, someone to spend a day in bed with. He thought about being able to slide his fingers through Cas' when they walked through the store or a new town on a hunt, and about being able to kiss him and wrap his arms around him whenever he wanted to. He thought about cooking with Cas, about curling up on the couch or the bed to watch a movie or whatever crappy show the angel wanted to watch on Netflix. He thought about being happy, and changing his entire life.

Cas eyes began to blink open and Dean stopped stroking his hair. He was always so sensitive to everything when he first woke up.

"Hey Cas," he whispered, as his eyes fully opened. "You ok?"

"Hello, Dean. Yes, thank you. I feel a little better than I did this morning. You can probably speak a little louder, if you want."

"Sure thing, buddy," Dean rose his voice out of the whisper, but kept his tone light and soft. "Sam's gonna go and get us some pizza in a bit, and then talk us through a plan to help you adjust to being back with us. That sound ok?"

"Yes, Dean."

Dean smiled at the angel, who smiled tentatively back. Cas turned on his side so that he was facing Dean. "Can I try something?" he asked.

"Sure, Cas."

"Can I…can I touch you?"

Dean nearly swallowed his tongue. "How do you mean?"

"Like how you touched me earlier. It felt ok, and I wanted to see if I could do the same to you, and if it would feel ok too."

It took a second for Dean to realise what Cas was talking about, but when he got it he stood out of his chair, pushing it back and sitting himself on the floor next to the bed. He sat with his side to it, so that he could still see Cas while they talked. "Touch away."

Both held their breath as Castiel's hand slowly reached out and touched the tips of Dean's hair. After a few moments of this he brushed his fingers more deeply into the strands, until he was stroking Dean's scalp as well.

"Is this ok, Dean?

"This is perfect, Cas."

They sat this way for several minutes, until Dean realised that Sam was right. He needed to say something.

"I love you."

"What?" Castiel's hand froze in his hair.

"Wow, that was a hell of a lot easier than I thought it was going to be."

"I don't understand."

Dean sighed and shifted his head slightly, encouraging Cas to go back to the rhythmic stroking that was soothing both of them.

"I mean it, Cas. I love you. I've loved you for a long fucking time, and I couldn't believe I lost you again and never told you. I was so angry at myself for not saying it in that barn a few months ago when you were dying, and then – your wings in the dust, and you weren't answering me, you wouldn't wake up, and I've never felt the way I did then in my whole life, Cas. I died with you, I'm sure that I did. My existence was nothing until you came back, and then I couldn't even hug you without hurting you, and I'm sorry Cas, I'm so sorry. I'm not expecting anything from you, but I needed you to know. I love you. More than anything in the world I love you, and I need you to stay here with me."

He was barely aware of the tears on his cheeks until Cas' finger gingerly reached down and wiped one away, before going back to stroking Dean's hair.

"I love you too, Dean."

"You what?"

"I love you, too. I always have. I told you in the barn, but you didn't say anything so I got scared and pretended I meant it for everyone. And then I lied to you and betrayed you, but I promise I was doing it to help you, I promise. And I never got to say it again before I died. I love you more than heaven, Dean. More than my father."

"Cas…"

"I promise I'll get better. I promise."

"You can't promise me that, Cas. You don't have to," Dean smiled at him. "Just promise me you'll try."

"No, Dean. I promise I'll do it. I'll get better, then I can kiss you the way that I want without it hurting, and I can go to sleep with you wrapped around me, and we can do all the things I've dreamed of doing for years."

Dean gave him a watery grin, and nearly sobbed when Castiel returned it. His first proper smile in what seemed for ever.

"I can't wait to do all that stuff with you, Cas. All of it."

"Me too, Dean. I love you."

"I love you too, sunshine."

They fell into silence after that, each mentally running through what they would do first as Castiel began to get better. They continued gazing at each other even as Sam stuck his head in the room to ask about pizza toppings, and they were still gazing at each other as he left.

The tall hunter made his way through the halls of the bunker, smiling to himself as he realised that praying to Chuck was useless. Sending Cas back had been the help they had been asking for, and getting him better was going to bring those two self-loathing idiots together in a way that several brushes with death never could. It was going to take some time, but his brothers were going to be happy, and then Sam could finally relax.

Fuck it. This wasn't a vegetable pizza night. It was a celebration; bring on the meat lovers'. If Dean could admit his feelings to the love of his goddam life, then Sam could admit to himself that veggie pizza sucked ass, and he would have whatever the fuck he wanted. Life was too damn short.

He was whistling as he climbed into the front seat of the Impala, and decided to stop by the store while he was out. He better get some salad for tomorrow.

A/N Another chapter needed? A sequel? Not sure. Happy to leave it as it is, but if you want more let me know! Let me know what you think, either way.

(I promise I am working on No Quick Fix (and Moving On, if anyone is reading that too!), will be updating as soon as I can.)

B xx