Dean didn't realize he was bleeding until he and Sammy got back to the bunker. "Well shit," he muttered, putting his fingers back up to the cut on his scalp to keep the blood from getting everywhere. He glanced at Sammy to make sure he was okay –the bitch was fine, strolling over to one of the bookcases as cavalier as a giant could be- before he shouted that he was gonna take a shower. Sammy made an uninterested grunting sound and Dean left the room, heading up towards the bathroom.

He didn't realize he was doing it at first. He'd been looking around the place on his way up, and made a few comments more to the air than to any one person. But the longer he talked –bitching about the books, the mustiness, how Sammy was always reading; but also how nice it was to have a place to call home again- the more he realized that he was aiming his words at Castiel, as if the angel was right beside him.

"Damn it… Sorry to bug you, Cas. My bad," Dean said, realizing that more than likely Cas was in the middle of something. Otherwise he would've come back by now.

Right?

It became a sort of habit. If something was on his mind, or Sammy was being particularly nerdy, Dean would mutter out a quick prayer. Just to let Cas know someone was thinking about him. And then to remind Cas that he had people who cared about him. Who were steadily becoming more and more worried about him. Who were now questioning exactly how much of Heaven Cas had seen.

Because Dean knew that Cas had meant what he'd said. If Cas saw what had become of Heaven… Cas really would end it all.

"He's not answering."

It'd been a throwaway line, but dammit, it drove Dean crazy, not knowing where the angel was. Mr. I-Want-to-Be-A-Hunter couldn't just up and leave without dropping Dean a line. They'd been through too much together, seen and suffered too much, for that.

Each night Dean prayed, just like in Purgatory. The symmetry wasn't lost on him; it just pissed him off.

"Castiel, you need to get your feathery ass down here ASAP. Sammy's a wreck without you," Dean grumbled, then he relaxed a bit, knowing Sammy's room was far enough away he wouldn't be able to hear Dean's prayers.

"Man… Cas, I really need you down here. We lost another Winchester… and it's my fault again. Why does this keep happening to me? Why is it every time I risk getting close to someone, they get hurt? Lisa, Dad, Sammy, Henry… you. Especially you. I know you think I can't save everyone, but I should be able to save at least you. I mean, how many times have you saved my ass when I didn't deserve it? You should've left me to rot in Hell, but you pulled me out. And then you fought with me, stood by me. Yeah, you messed up, but have you seen my track record?" Dean gave a bleak chuckle at that.

"You said… that if you saw what you'd made of Heaven, you'd want to- to kill yourself. And Cas, you haven't been answering me at all. It's been awhile, and I haven't heard a thing from you. Those feathers showed up out of nowhere, so I know you're paying attention, but Cas, I don't need fucking feathers, I need my friend."

"If you're staying away because I did something… I'm sorry, Cas, okay? I didn't- I mean, I never want to hurt you. So, just come back, yeah? Don't do this to me again, don't make me think I failed you again. Because if you're dead, Castiel, it's my fault and we both know it. My fault for not protecting you enough. So don't be dead. Just don't."

He wasn't crying, because Dean Winchester didn't cry. There must've just been gunk in his eye or something, making them well up with water that trickled over his cheeks and dripped onto his prayer-clasped hands. A familiar whooshing sound filled the room for a second, and then the sort of silence that told Dean he was being watched. Instead of turning to look at Cas, Dean kept praying, just to let Cas know that Dean cared in a way that he wouldn't have to actually own up to.

"I need you, Castiel. Always do." He rose to his feet, opening his eyes and turning to look at his angel.

Cas looked exhausted, he wove a bit on his feet when he tried to step towards Dean. Immediately the hunter rushed to support his friend. "Damn, Cas, you look like hell," Dean said. Cas gave him the patented Dean-I-Disapprove-of-Your-Profanity look, though the effect was somewhat weakened by the angel's sudden inability to stand up.

"Whoa, buddy, okay, just sit on the bed, all right," Dean muttered, setting the angel down.

"I… tried to come sooner… too weak…" Cas murmured, his eyes already closing as he lay back on the bed. Dean felt suddenly overcome with a protective instinct. He tugged the trench coat and suit jacket off the exhausted angel's shoulders before forcing Cas beneath the covers of the bed.

"Don't worry about it," Dean insisted when Cas made a small noise of protest. Then Cas's eyes flashed open, pure heavenly blue but red-rimmed with exhaustion.

"You… cannot give up… your bed, Dean… Stay… with me." Cas's words came sporadically, as if he had to focus very hard just to get them out. "Please."

It was the please that did Dean in. He couldn't fight it when the angel clearly wanted him to stay. He stepped out of his jeans, leaving him in a tee and boxers, before shuffling himself underneath the blankets next to Cas. He reached over and flicked the light out, leaving them pressed together in darkness.

Without conscious consent, Dean's body relaxed and curled into Castiel's, who in turn, draped an arm over Dean's side to draw him closer. Before Dean had time to question it, Cas kissed the side of his neck gently. "Sleep, Dean," he ordered, a bit of his badass voice slipping into the drowsy tone.

Dean complied, drifting off quickly while wrapped in Cas's warm embrace. There'd be time to worry about sexuality later. Right now, all that mattered was that Cas was safe, Cas was real, and Cas was there with Dean.

He was so near sleep he almost missed it, but the motion of Cas's lips against his throat brought him to reality just in time.

"I need you as well, Dean. Always."