WARNING: Spoilers for 9x11 "First Born" onward, but especially for 9x23 "Do You Believe In Miracles", 10x03 "Soul Survivor", and 10x17 "Inside Man".

Author's Note: This is for GuestJ, who has made many wonderful requests for my series "What Family Is For", and unfortunately I haven't been able to write all of them yet. So I have combined three of them here, including: 1) A story using the words "slamming" and "banging". 2) A story using the words "battle" and "beleaguered" in a oneshot involving Cas along with the boys. 3) Something with hurt!Dean. This takes place soon after 10x17 "Inside Man", though I obviously haven't seen 10x18 since it's not out yet, so this could eventually be considered slightly AU. Anyway, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.

Sam was banging on the door to Dean's room, and the elder Winchester wished he would stop.

"Dean! Seriously, are you ok in there?" Sam called through the wood during his third attempt to get Dean to respond.

Dean finally worked up the nerve to yell back, "Dude, relax! I'm fine, ok? Just listening to some music, geez."

The pounding ceased, but Dean was certain that if he were to open the door that instant, then he would find Sam still standing there looking like he didn't believe a word Dean had said.

Well, the kid was probably right not to, considering Dean was anything but fine.

General emotional strain he'd been under in recent months aside, the battle they had fought earlier that day against a rouge angel who seemed convinced Sam had done something to piss off heaven's host recently had still resulted in Dean being thrown quite forcefully into a tree. The landing had been more than a little rough, too, and now Dean's torso was blossoming with nasty blotches of purple and blue, which would no doubt morph into deep blacks in the coming hours. His ribs ached terribly as well, and he was beginning to feel certain he'd broken at least one of them.

All-in-all he wasn't doing so hot, but he didn't want to admit that to his brother.

If Dean were to tell Sam the truth about his current injuries, then all of Sam's repressed care would be unloaded on Dean instantaneously, and the elder man wasn't so sure he could handle such a sudden influx of concern for his well-being. As much as he appreciated it, especially coming from Sam, he was no good at openly accepting such support. So instead he figured he would stay tucked away in his room until the intensity of his wounds died down a bit, or at least until Sam gave up on fixing him.

That thought scratched the surface of things Dean had been trying to avoid contemplating, and he felt like a heavy stone lay in his gut.

Because at this point he wasn't sure if he was really hiding because he couldn't deal with Sam's motherhenning, or if it was because Dean knew Sam wasn't just worried about his torso, but about the Mark branded onto his right arm as well.

Sam had been worrying about him and the Mark of Cain non-stop ever since Dean had been cured of being a demon, leaving Dean to feel downright beleaguered by his fussing right up until he finally told Sam, in no uncertain terms, that he didn't want him to keep it up. In response Sam had bottled up all of his concern and now let it out in bursts of assistance whenever Dean was physically damaged on a job.

All the while Dean stayed firm in his argument that he didn't desire help, and that there was no point in fretting about the Mark when there would be no solution to the problem.

Yet the truth was that Dean wanted desperately to believe there was hope.

He just didn't want Sam to believe it, because if all that hope ever came crumbling down then Dean couldn't stand to see Sam break apart with it.

Figuratively or literally.

Dean shivered involuntarily at the memory of Cain's declaration as he had tried to end Dean's life- the assurance with which the demon had claimed the Mark would one day drive Dean to do the unthinkable, and actually kill his own brother...

The noise of Sam's feet shuffling away down the hallway pulled Dean from his dark thoughts, and he released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Then he walked over to his bed and carefully lowered himself onto, taking specials pains not to jostle his injuries too aggressively.

Finally, he closed his eyes and drifted into a fitful sleep.

OoO

Dean was abruptly awoken by the sound of his door slamming open.

He shot into an upright position, biting back a groan at the shooting pain the motion generated across his body.

"What the hell Sam!" he yelled angrily, staring at the figure that had busted into his room. But then he realized the figure was too short to be his brother, and he instantly grabbed for the gun on his nightstand, leveling it at the intruder.

"You can lower the weapon, Dean," a familiar gravelly voice spoke.

"Cas? What the hell!" Dean repeated himself, bringing down the arm that held his gun and then turning on the lamp near his bed with the other. Sure enough, the light revealed the angel Castiel standing just inside the entrance to his room, looking as if Dean had somehow been the one to act wrongfully in that moment, and not the other way around.

"I apologize for rousing you so abruptly, but your door was locked and Sam already told me that you weren't answering to knocking alone," Castiel explained gruffly.

"Oh yeah? Did it occur to you that maybe I wasn't answering for a reason? You can't just go busting into people's bedrooms, Cas. I thought you got that sort of thing by now," Dean shot back.

"It did occur to me that you were locked in here intentionally, yes. But then I concluded your reason wasn't important, so I came in anyway," Castiel replied nonchalantly.

Dean just gaped at him for a moment, unsure of how to respond to his friend's attitude.

Castiel took that as an opportunity to continue speaking.

"Sam believes you may have damaged a rib during your confrontation with the angel Haziel. He's convinced you're hiding the severity of the wound from him by shutting yourself in your room, and he asked if I would make sure you were taking care of yourself, since you wouldn't let him in to help," the angel stated. He glanced at the way Dean was sitting awkwardly to avoid shifting his ribs too much, and his expression softened slightly. "It would seem your brother was correct," Cas stated with a heavy sigh.

Dean stared sheepishly at his blankets for a moment before mumbling, "So what if he was?"

"So, it means we need to help you," Castiel replied sternly before turning toward the hallway and calling out, "Sam, you were right!"

A moment later Sam appeared in the doorway carrying a bundle of gauze and medical tape. He frowned slightly when he saw that Dean was noticeably positioned to avoid paining himself.

"Before you say anything Dean, remember that you're outnumbered here. So just make it easy on yourself and let me and Cas fix you up, alright?" Sam encouraged, passing the medical supplies to Castiel.

"Now lift up your shirt so we can see how bad it is," Sam instructed, and Dean saw no choice but to acquiesce. He pulled his T-shirt up slowly to avoid any unnecessary jolting, and watched the frown on Sam's face deepen at the sight of his now-primarily-black upper torso. Castiel reached out and gently placed two fingers on the bruising, closing his eyes as he did so.

When he opened them once more, he said in a scolding tone, "That's two cracked ribs, Dean." Then he added, "I can't spend grace on healing non-life-threatening wounds like this anymore, but Sam told me wrapping the area will stabilize it and promote self-repair."

On cue, Sam commanded, "Shirt off, arms up, and don't you dare complain because we're doing this and that's final."

Dean rolled his eyes but followed orders. Then Sam and Cas set to work wrapping up his torso. Fifteen minutes later his ribs were tightly bound with gauze and medical tape, and despite the initial pain of squeezing the injury, he couldn't deny there was a great deal less discomfort now that the broken bones were unable to move around as freely.

He glanced back and forth between his brother and his best friend until he finally said, "Well thanks for the help guys, I guess."

Sam rolled his eyes and Castiel merely sighed again.

Dean shrugged to the extent that he could, and Sam echoed Castiel's sigh. Then Dean braced himself as Sam gave one of his patented 'we're about to have a talk' stares.

"Look, I get it. You don't want us obsessing over you right now. You're scared of the Mark, and what it can do to you, and you're even more scared of letting anyone get too close before things could fall apart. But Dean, if you don't even take care of yourself at the basic level then you're going to fall apart anyway, Mark or no Mark! And where do you think that leaves us? You might be a stubborn idiot, but you're our family. We care about you, and that means we're not giving up on you no matter what. So you might as well stop hiding from it and start getting used to it," Sam stated firmly.

Dean stared blankly at the taller man for a moment, lost for how to respond. Then a thought occurred to him, and Dean's eyes narrowed.

"Haziel wasn't wrong, was he? You did do something to piss Heaven off. You- You were trying to fix the Mark somehow, and you…" Comprehension struck Dean suddenly, and he begged, "Sammy, please tell me you didn't try and talk to Metatron again."

Sam had the audacity to not even look guilty as he replied, "Last week Cas and I went to Metatron for information, except Hannah wouldn't let us in to talk to him directly, so we contacted Bobby to help us bust him out from the inside, and once he was out-"

"Wait, you got Bobby to help?" Dean asked, slightly shocked by the news.

"Well, yeah. Cas and I used a psychic to reach out to him. We caught him up on what's been happening, and of course he wanted to do what he could to help you. Like I said before Dean, you might want to give up on yourself, but you've got people who aren't ready to give up on you," Sam retorted.

Dean was stuck silent by the revelation that Sam had found a way to involve Bobby Singer from beyond the grave. Actually, what surprised him the most wasn't even Bobby's involvement. Sure, the fact that the hunter was was dead made it harder for him to help. But Dean also knew that, even from Heaven, Bobby would still always do whatever he could for the men he saw as his adoptive sons; a fact Dean was immeasurably grateful for.

No, what caught Dean's attention the most was the amount of dedication to saving him that Sam had shown.

Suddenly Dean realized just how much a part of him had believed that if he could keep telling Sam 'no' to helping cure him of the Mark, then maybe he could also keep Sam at a safer distance from the dangers of it.

Yet here his brother was seeking help from extremely dangerous enemies like Metatron and heading up jail-breaks from inside Heaven to do it. Now Dean could see that Sam had been pursuing every avenue he could think of, including things that Dean himself would never even have dreamed up, all because he was wholeheartedly invested in protecting Dean from the effects of the Mark of Cain.

It was increasingly apparent that Dean wasn't keeping Sam safe by keeping him at a distance. If anything, he was only pushing the younger man towards more risky endeavors.

Dean knew in that moment how wrong he had been to be hiding from Sam's care.

And Castiel's for that matter.

And apparently Bobby Singer's, too.

Perhaps what he needed more than anything was to embrace it, because just as Sam had proclaimed, his family wasn't giving up on him any time soon. And maybe if they weren't going to, then he could find a way not to, too. Perhaps it wouldn't even end as terribly as he feared it would...

Even if the hope Dean felt was fragile, and even if that fragility seemed frightening, Dean realized he still felt much better sharing it with those he trusted than he had felt keeping it buried deep inside.

Dean glanced back up at his brother and his best friend to find both of them staring at him intently, obviously anticipating some kind of aggressive argument.

Instead he gave them a reassuring smirk and stated, "Ok, so no more unchecked broken ribs. Got it."

Sam's face relaxed and it was clear he understood Dean was agreeing to let people in again.

Dean quickly added, "But we seriously need to lecture Cas here about not attacking my door."

"Well it wasn't as if you were going to just let me in! Sam had already tried the 'conventional method', so I went with a different tactic," Castiel defended.

Sam laughed and said to Dean, "Dude, you should have seen him at the psychic's house. I knocked on the door and didn't get an answer, and immediately Cas was all 'I'll just bust it down'. Like that was the obvious thing to do."

"I was trying to be helpful, Sam," Cas huffed, a look of indignation settling across his features.

"Metatron gave you too much action movie knowledge, huh?" Dean teased the angel, and Castiel merely frowned.

Sam frowned again then too, and Dean felt like he was missing something. At which point he remembered the fact that Sam specified he and Castiel had succeeded in breaking Metatron out of Heaven...

"So when you guys spoke to Metadouche I'm guessing it wasn't a fun talk, am I right?" Dean inquired, steeling himself for bad news.

"Well I don't like to consider myself a sadist, but it was a little fun removing his grace as he removed mine," Castiel admitted.

"And I got to shoot him in the shin. Which was pretty satisfying, actually," Sam supplied.

Dean chuckled, but then sobered when he realized both men were avoiding the bigger point... "But he didn't have anything useful to say," he concluded.

Sam and Cas exchanged disheartening looks.

"He was lying before. All that stuff about a river and the source... It was just nonsense he was using to buy himself time," Sam said quietly.

Dean nodded, having expected something like that.

"He claimed to have a way to find the remnants of my grace, too. But in the end that didn't exactly pan out," Castiel added ruefully.

Dean turned determinedly to the angel and stated, "I'm sorry that didn't work out, but we'll still find a way to fix you up Cas, I promise."

Cas smiled wryly and replied, "I suppose we have a lot to be fixing then, wouldn't you agree?" He glanced pointedly at Dean's arm.

Dean took a deep breath before saying, "If you guys are serious about this- about helping save me from this friggin' evil tattoo- then you need to know the truth about what Cain told me before I killed him."

Sam and Cas stared at Dean seriously, waiting for him to continue. He also got the distinct feeling they both had suspected there was information about that confrontation which Dean had been keeping to himself.

"Cain told me that my story would end where his began. He said I'd kill the people closest to me, and I think you both know you're on that list," Dean confided, his voice breaking slightly from worry as he spoke.

Sam and Cas exchanged another deep look, and then Sam said, "I know."

Dean was confused for a moment. "That's it? Just 'I know'?" he asked warily.

"I mean that it doesn't take a genius to figure out what the Mark of Cain might eventually want you to do. Not to mention the way you were acting after you killed Cain made me pretty darn sure he'd threatened you with something awful. Add that to the fact that you've been having nightmares and yelling my name in your sleep... Well, Cas and I kinda figured it probably had to do with Cain's legacy, you know?" Sam confessed.

Dean felt momentarily embarrassed to hear that he had been screaming in his sleep, but Castiel spoke up again before his shame could envelope him completely.

"I'm actually flattered that I'm on your 'list'. I hope you understand I view you as family, too. If I were branded with Cain's Mark, I assure you both that your lives would be at risk," Cas stated sincerely.

Suddenly Sam was laughing. "See Dean? It's an honor for us," he said.

Dean glowered at his brother who was clearly not grasping the terrible nature of the situation. "This is not funny. You could die. I could kill you! Both of you!" he exclaimed.

Sam did stop laughing, but his smile didn't fade. "You won't," he stated simply.

Dean raised an eyebrow in a show of obvious skepticism.

"You could, but you won't," Castiel affirmed.

Dean continued to look disbelieving while Sam patted his shoulder and then headed for the door. Castiel took that as a signal to depart as well, and so he followed the taller man out into the hallway.

"Get some sleep. You're going to be sore as hell tomorrow, so I'd recommend trying to at least be well-rested," Sam said as he managed to close Dean's door despite the way the wood had been treated earlier.

Dean stared at the closed door for a while.

Of all the ways he had ever imagined confessing about what Cain had told him... He had never once envisioned Sam and Castiel making light of circumstances before confidently asserting their belief that he would never actually hurt them.

Dean laid back in his bed and gazed at the ceiling, letting the release of his dark secret wash over him and trying desperately to find a hint of the confidence in himself that his family seemed to possess.

When he woke the next morning from one of the best rests he'd had in months, he realized his family had helped him discover some of that confidence after all.

Secondary Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Please do take a moment to leave feedback if you can. It's always appreciated! :)

Special Note to GuestJ: Thank you SOOOOO much for all of your amazing support, and for the awesome prompts you give me. I know I don't get to write them too quickly, but I promise you I am grateful for each one, and they are ALL on my list to be completed at some point or another. ;)