Hello everyone! So, I know I should be working on my other stories, but I saw this really awesome fanart (it's the cover for this story) and I just couldn't help myself. So this one will probably be only a few chapters, but it's kind of new for me. Let me know what you think!

As busy as my brother and I are, he always insists we eat dinner together. Growing up, our father always told us that there was nothing more important than family, and losing him and Uncle Robert so soon only made it more important that we stick together. They taught us everything we know about saving people; the family business. Sam had taken to it better than I had. He'd quickly become the most talented healer around, and I worked as his partner, but we both knew he was the one with the knowledge. It wasn't that I wasn't smart enough. The truth was, I never saw much worth saving in the world. But that was before the knock on the door brought everything I thought I knew crashing down.

We're halfway through dinner when we hear it; three sharp raps against the door and a low grunt. Sam frowns, crossing over to the door and peeking out. He lets out a soft gasp, wrenching it open. "Gabriel?"

I look around him to see the baker, usually so carefree, but now with deep worry lines in his face. "Please…you have to help him…my brother…" he gasps, out of breath.

Sam glances down at the bundle in his arms, startling a little when he realizes that it's a man. "Dean, clear off the table," he mutters under his breath. "Bring him in," he instructs. "What happened?"

I busy myself removing our plates from the table and draping a clean sheet over it. "They tell me he was involved in a major battle, and that there's nothing they can do for him. I couldn't just leave him there to die. I know if anyone can save him, you can."

He sets the other man down on the table, and Sam examines him, looking at me grimly. "We'll do our best, Gabriel, but I can't make any promises. He doesn't look good." I examine the man carefully, seeing his point. He's dressed as a soldier, the large grey cross across his chest plate marking him as a knight of the royal army. He's pale and bloodied, the ragged ends of his dark hair disheveled and damp with sweat, and even in his unconscious state he groans. Just under the chest plate sits a shiny silver dagger, buried to the hilt in his abdomen.

"I understand," Gabriel murmurs, watching him with haunted eyes. "I just had to try. He's my little brother."

I frown, hoping that Sam can think of something to fix it. "We'll do everything we can for your brother," he says. "You might want to wait in the back. This isn't going to be pretty. We'll come get you if anything changes." He starts carefully removing the chest plate, ripping the shirt underneath around the wound while I set a pot of water over the fire.

Gabriel nods anxiously. "…Castiel," he murmurs. "His name is Castiel." He disappears into the back.

"So what do you think?" I ask quietly.

He sighs, looking back at the man on the table. "I think it's going to be a long night." He tears the fabric of the shirt open farther, carefully examining the wound and the knife. "It's a clean cut; once we take it out he's going to bleed. It's probably the only reason he's stayed alive this long. At least he's unconscious for this part." He gathers the clean bandages and carefully removes the knife, surprised when Castiel moans in pain, his eyes fluttering open. He whimpers loudly when Sam presses down hard on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Frightened, he struggles weakly, growing frantic. "Dean!" Sam mutters, trying to keep pressure on the wound.

I reach out to pin his shoulders down, trying to keep him still, but this only makes it worse. "Hey! Take it easy! Castiel? Can you hear me? Come on, focus. You have to stay still. We're trying to help." He whimpers again, but quiets a little, stilling as he focuses on me. "Hey," I murmur, softer, "Are you listening to me?" He nods a little, and I smile. "Okay. Good. I'm Dean, and this is my brother Sam. You got hurt, and Gabriel brought you here. I know you're in pain, but you just have to hang in there, alright?" he swallows nervously, looking at Sam for a moment and then back to me. His mouth opens, but the only thing that comes out is a pained moan. His hand comes up, clutching desperately at my arm, and I take it in mine, squeezing gently. "It's okay," I murmur, lightly running my free hand through his hair in an attempt to calm him. "You're going to be okay. We're going to fix it. Try to relax, alright?"

It seems to help, and he relaxes just a little. He takes a deeper breath, his eyes closing for a moment before he looks up at me again. "Stay," he whispers, so low I barely hear it.

I'm a little surprised, but I nod anyway. "Yeah, okay. I'll stay right here, okay? I'll stay as long as you try to keep still for me. Deal?" He nods again, groaning as Sam's hand shifts. "Sam, how's it going?"

"Surprisingly okay," he answers. "I think the bleeding is slowing. We're going to have to stitch it up, but if we can keep infection out, I think he's got a chance. Hey, can you…" he starts. His eyes fall to my hand, locked in the man's tight grip, then shift to Castiel, who's remaining obediently still, though tense. "Actually, just keep the pressure on this while I get ready."

I nod, pressing my hand over the bandage and wincing at Castiel's whimper. "Sorry," I murmur. "I have to. Don't want you bleeding out on us. You hanging in there for me?"

He nods, panting softly. "Alright," Sam says, returning with a needle and thread. "Let's patch you up. I'm afraid there's not much we can do about the pain, but it shouldn't take long." He carefully peels the bandage away, peering at the wound carefully before lining up the needle.

Castiel cries out, his grip on my hand tightening. I shush him gently, running my fingers through his hair again. "I know, I know. Almost done. You can do it." I watch the muscles in his jaw clench as he struggles to stay still. "Hey," I say, trying to distract him, "Castiel is kind of a mouthful. Do you have a nickname?" It works, his focus shifting back to me, and he shakes his head. "No? How about…Cas?"

Sam finishes tying off the last stitch, covering the wound with a clean bandage. The knight sighs, his grip on me relaxing. "I like Cas," he murmurs weakly, the corners of his mouth turning up a little.

"Alright. Then Cas it is," I smile. "So Cas, let's clean you up a little while Sam goes to get your brother." I carefully unfasten the sword and belt from around his waist, removing the rest of the metal armor. The fabric underneath is filthy, but I don't want to risk moving him to get them off. Instead I wet a washcloth, gently wiping the blood and sweat from his face and the area of his torso exposed by the ripped cloth.

He sighs softly, and I glance up at him. He blushes a little. "Feels nice," he whispers.

I smile. "Good. I think that's the best we can do for now. Once you heal a little bit we'll give you a proper washing up." He looks away, frowning. "What is it?" I ask.

"If I'm not dead by morning, maybe," he mutters, his tone clipped at the end with pain.

"Hey, you listen to me. I am not about to sit here and let you die, so don't even think about it. I forbid it."

He smiles in spite of himself. "Okay," he murmurs. His attention turns over my shoulder. "Gabe?"

Gabriel smiles. "Castiel! You have no idea how happy I am to see you. How do you feel?"

"It hurts," he answers, "and I'm really tired, Gabe."

Gabriel nods. "I know. It'll get better. Sam says he thinks you'll heal just fine. You had me worried for a while there."

Cas' mouth twitches up again in an approximation of a smile. "Don't worry about me, Gabriel." I expect him to say something along the lines of I'll be fine, but he doesn't. Instead, he looks at Sam. "What now?" he asks softly.

"Well, Gabriel and I discussed it, and we think it's best to keep you here for now. It'll be better if you stay as still as possible while you're healing, and this way Dean and I can look after you. For now, you should try to rest. I'm sure you're exhausted."

Gabriel nods in agreement. "I'll see you in the morning."

He reaches out, squeezing Cas' hand lightly before walking to the door with Sam, who returns with a pillow and blanket. He hands them to me, beginning the complicated task of sterilizing the instruments. I carefully drape the blanket over the knight, gently lifting his head to slide the pillow underneath. He's fading fast, his eyelids fluttering in an effort to stay awake. "Thank you," he whispers, slurring a little. "You've been very kind."

"Any time," I murmur back. "Try to get some sleep."

"I can't," he mutters. "It hurts."

A little whine escapes him as he shifts uncomfortably. "Cas, you have to stay still," I remind him.

A low growl escapes him. "It hurts," he repeats.

"I know, but moving around isn't going to make it hurt any less. Just try to relax." He grumbles about it, but shuts his eyes again. It takes another hour before Cas passes out from exhaustion, and Sam comes over to look at him. "Do you really think he'll make it?" I ask softly.

He shrugs. "I think we've done all we can. At this point, it's out of our hands. Let's hope he's got an angel watching over him. I think I'm gonna go to bed."

I nod, watching the sleeping knight for another moment. "I think I'm going to stay up a while longer. Goodnight." He nods, disappearing down the hall as I retrieve one of the kitchen chairs, sitting down beside him and watching the even rise and fall of his chest.

'A while' turns out to be all night, and I wake up to Sam shaking my shoulder lightly, the sun from the window blinding me. Cas is still out cold, and thankfully, still alive. "How's he doing?" I ask, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

"Okay so far," he answers. "No fever yet, but that could change if we don't get him cleaned up. Those clothes are filthy."

I nod. "I think I have some things that might fit him. You think it's safe enough to move him?"

"As safe as it can be," he answers. "We'll be careful." I walk into the back to find clothes for him, and when I return Sam is holding him upright. "I still can't believe they were going to let him die," he mutters, staring out the front window as I carefully cut away the tattered fabric. "Honestly, if they'd just give it a chance…"

"That's what we're here for, Sam," I remind him. "It's our job to save the ones no one else will." I peel the remaining fabric from his back, freezing at the sight before me. "Uh…Sam?"

He frowns, still staring out the window. "Really, would it kill them to try?"

"Sam?" I try again.

"How many do you think they've just allowed to die?"

"Sam!"

He turns to look at me, annoyed, but it fades into shock as he takes in the sight before him. Sprouting from between Cas' shoulder blades are two enormous black wings, neatly folded against his back. As we watch, they twitch and stretch, dangling over the edges of the table and hanging almost to the floor. Sam's eyes widen, and his gaze shifts between me and the wings, his mouth opening and closing several times like he can't quite find the words. He breaths a long sigh, muttering under his breath. "Christo…"

Yayyyy! So yeah. I've never really done an AU like this one, but I had to give it a shot when I saw that picture. Like it? Don't like it? Leave me a review!

Love,

TheSongSmith