Castiel was acting weird. Well, weirder than was expected. Sam said it was because he had recently become human and the emotions were overwhelming. That didn't explain the first couple of weeks, though. He had been borderline clingy then. Not expressively but refused to be left alone in a room, choosing to follow Dean or, if Dean wished to be alone (very rarely), Sam.

"No, dude, but why the other room. I mean, he won't even let me in!" Dean cried out, slamming a fist on the TV table.

"Dean!" Sam scowled. "No need to be dramatic… Just-" he took a deep breath as if trying to explain to a five year old why he couldn't enter parent's room at night. "Dean… It's been two months, alright? It's like growing up on fast forward. Consider him in his teenage years where he needs his privacy," Sam explained patiently.

"To do what?! Read porn? Masturbate?"

Sam scrubbed a hand over his face, sighing exasperatedly.

"I don't know, Dean," Sam said.

"Oh my God!" Dean said in disgust.

"What?" Sam asked, sharply.

"We're like his parents. And I'm his mom!" he squeaked.

"I did not need that image, Dean," Sam said, grimacing. "And, no, we are not his parents. We're his friends. Which means we'll stop interfering in his life when he needs his privacy. Okay?"

Dean grumbled, folding his arms.

"Okay?" Sam said, louder.

"Yes. God damnit," Dean said, heading out the motel to take a long, long drive in his Baby.

"Cas!" Dean called, hauling Sam with him through the bushes.

"Dean, won't it be better-"

"Sam, I don't wanna hear it, okay? I'm taking you along. Abaddon might be after you," he said in a tone that ended all argument.

Sam fell silent at his side, trying his best to put minimum weight on Dean.

"CAS!" Dean called into the forest.

He knew Castiel was there. How did he know that… He blamed it on his gut instinct that he only preserved for the supernatural. If, even, Castiel was supernatural anymore. He highly doubted it.

"CASTIEL!" Dean bellowed.

"Dean." It was like a whisper of the wind and Dean would have thought he just heard it if Sam hadn't frozen up at his side.

Sharing a split second glance, the two hobbled over to the source of the sound, hunter instincts on full alert.

Castiel was on his knees in the middle of the clearing, tears streaking down his face and an angel with charred wings lying behind him, motionless. Castiel looked up to meet Dean's eyes. Dean's breath caught in his throat. The blue eyes looked lifeless.

"Cas?" he asked, softly.

Castiel looked so bedraggled, his coat askew and his hair windswept. He looked… Human, Dean realized with a jolt. Castiel looked away as though he had read Dean's though and was pained by them.

"Hey," Dean said, softly, letting Sam down on the ground.

Sam nodded towards Castiel.

"Cas," he said, softly, putting a hand on Castiel's shoulder, gingerly. Not wanting to scare him.

However, Castiel just leaned into the touch. More like fell into the touch, eyes closing. Dean caught him, his hands closing around Castiel's shoulder.

"Hey," he said, louder but still quiet enough. "Cas, look up, buddy."

Castiel did and Dean almost regretted his words. The eyes looked even worse from this close. They were bottomless pits, not filled with curiosity and wonder or anger and righteousness. They looked dead. On instinct, Dean cupped Castiel's cheek. Castiel's eyes fluttered close as he let out a sob.

"Dean," he said brokenly, fresh tears flowing down his cheeks.

Dean's heart clenched and he pulled Castiel to his chest. Castiel's hands closed around the lapels of Dean's coat, hanging on tightly. It was the first Dean had ever heard Castiel cry and he hated it. He never wanted to hear the muffled sobs against his chest.

Dean brushed his hand through Castiel's hair.

"Hey, Cas, listen to me, man," he murmured, gently caressing his hair. "We're gonna get you home and we'll be fine, alright? Sammy, you and I. I'll take care of you, okay? I'll take care of you both." His voice broke at the end.

He buried his nose in Castiel's hair, whose sobs were wracking his entire body now.

Dean stayed that way for a while, breathing in Castiel's scent and still caressing his hair. Castiel's sobs were subsiding.

Dean let him go when he felt Castiel shuffling in his arms.

Dean raised Castiel's face to look into his eyes, by his chin. They were bloodshot and still shining like blue beacons on his red and blotched face.

Dean sighed and let Castiel's face go. "I'm sorry," he murmured, quietly.

Castiel nodded, looking away, but didn't say anything.

"Let's go," Dean said, getting up.

He held out a hand for Castiel who gratefully took it, leaning heavily on Dean's arm. He seemed exhausted. Dean heaved them over to where Sam was still kneeling on the ground, coughing.

"Come on, Sammy," Dean said, thickly, bending over, careful not to let Castiel fall.

Sam leaned against Dean's other side and together, the three hobbled over to where the Impala was parked, shining in the moonlight.

After helping Sam clean up and putting him to bed, Dean returned to his room where he had left Castiel sitting on one of the chairs. He was still sitting there.

"Cas, I told you to go to sleep," Dean said, opening the cupboard to take out his clothes. "I'll set up another room tomorrow; I'll go sleep on the couch now."

He entered the bathroom, leaving the door open but the light switched off. He changed behind the door but continued talking to Castiel, telling him about one time when Sam had thought it would be a good idea to wash his father's guns in the bathtub with cheap motel bath salts. The guns had still been loaded, though the safety was turned on. Dean had been shouted at for three hours followed by three days of being cold shouldered by his father, but he left that part out.

He felt as though if he stopped talking, the thin wire of normalcy would break and everything would fall apart. Hadn't everything fallen apart, already, though…

He managed to grunt and spit out a few words as he quickly brushed his teeth.

"You know, when Sammy was four, we went on this pack mule ride to the bottom of the Grand Canyon," Dean started, taking out sweats and a shirt for Castiel. "My mule kept you know, letting go. Farting. All over the place and I was the laughing stock for like a month, man."

Dean reddened at his choice of story but he was grappling through his brain to keep the conversation up.

Handing the clothes to Castiel, "You need help?" he asked, hoping Castiel didn't.

Much to Dean's relief, Castiel shook his head but pulled the clothes close, hugging them.

"Hey," Dean said softly, putting his palm on Castiel's cheek.

Castiel looked up.

"We'll figure this out, okay?"

He nodded, looking away again.

Castiel, it figured, was a shifty human.

Dean sighed, but pulled away and started to retract from the room, keeping a close eye on Castiel.

Just as Dean was almost out, a soft whisper of his name stopped him. As before, if he hadn't seen Castiel's lips move, he would have thought it was just his mind playing tricks.

Castiel looked up to meet Dean's eyes. Everything was clear. Dean realized that it always had been. He walked back to Castiel.

"Change your clothes," he said, pushing the trench coat off of Castiel's shoulders. "I'll be right here."

Castiel gulped visibly and stepped away from Dean. After a moment of thought, he vanished into the bathroom. Dean heard a bit of scuffling.

"You sure you don't need help?" Dean called, standing outside the door.

There was a yelp and a muffled thump. Without thinking, Dean opened the door. Castiel was on the floor, his pajamas tangled in his legs. He was, thankfully, wearing white boxers. Dean chuckled slightly at the affronted look Castiel was giving the pair of pajamas.

Dean bent to help Castiel up. He kneeled to untangle the pajamas and pull them up Castiel's legs. Dean was worried about the sexual aspect of him being on his knees in front of Castiel but what scared him the most was the domesticity in his act. How comfortable he felt, though his cock disagreed.

Dean got up, hurriedly, almost getting a head rush.

"Let's go," he said, trying to hide his embarrassment.

Dean spent time fluffing, fluffing(!), his pillows, waiting for Castiel to lie down but he just stood, head hanging.

"Come on, Cas," Dean coaxed, gently.

"I don't sleep."

"Cas, come on… You know… How it is, man… Sorry…"

"It's not your fault."

"It's not yours either."

Castiel didn't reply. Dean sighed and sank down onto the bed.

"Cas, I told you. We'll figure it out tomorrow. Please, come on, now," Dean cajoled.

Castiel looked up. Dean's heart clenched again. He looked so lost.

Dean held out his hand to Castiel, who took it and sat down on the bed too. Dean lied back down, slowly. Castiel followed, not breaking the eye contact. They lay there facing each other, hand in hand. It was much too domestic and feeling-sy for Dean's taste but he couldn't bring himself to stop.

His Cas. His angel. Now, fallen. But, if asked, Castiel would always be Dean's angel. He knew it sounded sappy as Hell but the moment required it. Castiel's eyes had gained emotions. Granted he looked lost and scared, it was something and Dean was willing to hold onto it for the night.

It was Castiel who broke first. Letting out a strangled sob, he moved to crash his head into Dean's chest. His hand left Dean's and fingers grasped Dean's shirt. Dean pulled Castiel close, wrapping his arms around his lean form.

Dean struggled to say something. He knew Castiel wasn't crying but he was shuddering in Dean's arms. His wide, unblinking eyes, staring in the darkness. Dean couldn't see them but he knew. Somehow he knew that Castiel had his eyes open and his lips were a thin white line against his pale features.

You're okay? Of course, Castiel wasn't. He was not supposed to be. This was his time to wallow in self-pity.

You'll be okay? Dean couldn't promise that. Dean would try, that was for sure but promising Castiel that he could be fine. Wasn't there enough proof that it never was.

I'll take care of you. Dean had already said that. It would become patronizing now. Castiel was no child. He was strong. He could take of himself if he needed to. He was a warrior and a strategist. He still was, no matter what Castiel chose to believe.

With a start, Dean realized that he didn't have to say anything. Saying anything would break the peace of the moment. Castiel needed to mull it over. He just required a reassuring presence.

Dean stared at the guns decorating the wall, until he heard the small kitten snores that Castiel was making. Dean smiled to himself. Within moments, he fell asleep to the same sound.

When Dean woke up next morning, he was a little disoriented. A little was an understatement. He never woke up beside anyone. Not since Lisa. Before freaking out, he recollected the past few days. He opened his eyes to Castiel's upturned face. He was scrunching his eyes; obviously not asleep.

"Hey," Dean said, his voice raspy.

Castiel's eyes flew open with a start.

"Hello, Dean," he replied, trying to smile but it ended up looking like a grimace. He gave up and looked away.

"Morning, Cas. How long you been awake?"

Castiel blinked furiously. "I-I just woke up."

"You're a horrible liar. You should have woken me up."

"You never seem to sleep this peacefully." Castiel looked up to meet Dean's eyes.

Dean took a deep breath. To hide his discomfort, he quipped, "Oh, you creep. You admitted to watching me sleep."

Castiel frowned slightly, endearingly.

Dean cleared his throat and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"I'll go freshen up." Freshen up? "And then you can go while I make breakfast. I'll put out some clothes for you."

Castiel nodded his assent, straightening up too.

After brushing his teeth, Dean found Castiel looking at Dean and his mother's picture, intently.

Dean went to stand beside him.

"She was… Beautiful. Like the sun. Dad used to leave for work and mom was a housewife. She used to play with me. I heard them once… Talking about how I'd feel threatened with another kid in the house. But I was so happy… Another friend to play with, I used to think. She was happy when she realized that. Our perfect family…"

Castiel didn't reply. Dean was worried that he had said too much. He obviously didn't talk about feelings. Did excerpts from childhood count as feelings?

Castiel interrupted his internal monologue by replacing the picture and turning around. "Thank you," he murmured; a small almost-non-existent smile on his lips and a warm palm on Dean's shoulder.

Before Dean could reply, he was walking towards the bathroom. Slowly, Dean moved and started collecting an old pair of jeans and a comfortable shirt. He fished out new boxers from behind his closet. Setting them cleanly on a chair placed outside the bathroom door, he went to make breakfast.

Over the weeks, Dean and Sam together managed to make Castiel smile exactly fifty seven times. Dean kept count. Of course, keeping count wasn't 'cute' like Sam insisted. He just cared about his friend. Sam kept giving them weird looks whenever Dean would serve Castiel breakfast or change the channel for him. Dean was awarded with a bitchface once when Dean changed the tape in the car for Castiel.

Sam and Dean had an ongoing war about whose food Castiel would like best. Dean figured out that besides burgers(Dean's and the third diner when they entered into the town nearby), Castiel loved thick fries(Dean's), omelet(Sam's), scrambled eggs with bacon(Dean's), honey grilled chicken with salad(much to Dean's chagrin and Sam's delight), key lime pie(Sam's) and apple pie(Dean's). Dean was winning with four to three. Sam was going to up his ante and cook mutton casseroles for dinner. Castiel didn't like mutton for a fact but Dean wasn't going to tell Sam that.

Dean had taken Castiel on various rides in the car. Actually, Castiel had asked to come before Dean could even open his mouth. It seemed as though he hated being left alone. Except for during bathing which Dean was thankful for. Castiel followed Dean wherever he went. He used to be awkward at first, moving shiftily to not make it obvious. Realizing, Dean had started asking Castiel to come with him on his own. That was the first grin Dean had seen on the ange-no, Castiel's face. His heart had flipped, curiously, at the sight. He was getting these desires to do things like kiss Castiel's nose.

They continued to sleep in one bed. When they lay down to sleep, they faced the opposite walls still sought with embarrassment but they always woke up in the morning with their limbs tangled and their faces a couple of inches apart. Dean didn't have the strength to be embarrassed anymore. Secretly, he loved walking up next to someone.

Today, Sam had appointed them to get groceries for his complicated mutton casserole. Castiel had grumbled slightly about the mutton part(Dean had made sure Sam didn't hear him) but as always accompanied Dean to the store. Generally it took Dean maximum fifteen minutes to get what he needed: basic sustenance, eggs, bacon, porn magazines, pie and beer. But with Castiel, it took at least an hour. Castiel loved making sure that the fruits and vegetables were organic and the meat; the right choice. Dean had to stop him twice from breaking the eggs to see if they were alright.

With an excuse to protect Castiel's innocence, he had stopped picking up the porn magazines even though he had found Castiel willing him to pick one. Castiel was an ex-angel after all. Dean couldn't expose him to this.

Castiel loved 'popcorn'. Dean had incessantly teased him for misunderstanding the marshmallow label, 'Puffcorn', and calling it popcorn. Now, they had a whole area in the kitchen cordoned off for Castiel's popcorn. Nobody else was allowed to eat it, except a few for Dean.

Dean picked up actual popcorn as well. They had to show Castiel a proper movie too, full with popcorn fights. Not popcorn with a demon-curing creepy video.

Returning home, they listened to a tape that Castiel had picked. It was all of Mary and John's (and, consequently, Dean's) favourite tracks by Led Zeppelin. (See that, Sammy? Castiel had good taste in music.)

When they reached home, Sam was pacing in the hallway, deep in thought and jumped when he saw them. He strode towards Castiel and put his huge palms on Castiel's shoulders. Castiel looked confused and a little petrified.

"There, there, Aunt May, what's up?" Dean asked, taking a step closer to Castiel. He was pleased to note that the tension left Castiel's shoulders at the proximity.

"I found them," Sam said, grinning cornily.

The maximum of the angels had fallen around Castiel that night fateful night. The next morning they had checked to find a huge number of angels dead. Castiel had asserted to clean 'his mess up'. Dean and Sam had obviously helped bury the five dozen angels. Castiel had cried in Dean's arms that night, again, but he hadn't cried anymore following that. Castiel had informed that there were a lot more angels than just five dozen. They had followed the news closely to find that only the area around Castiel had had a large rainfall of angels. The others had been scattered and let go off as lone meteors streaking the sky. The dead angels seen had been accounted as freak accidents. A lot of the places where the angels had struck had large depressions with nothing inside it. It led them to believe that there were angels still out there; alive.

After explaining the situation to Garth, they had gotten him to guide the fallen angels to safe houses, which were basically either the hunter's own or family homes and the homes of the people the hunters had helped. Castiel had kept in constant contact with a few of them; the ones who still believed that his heart was in the right place or the ones who didn't know it was Castiel's fault(which it wasn't).

'Them' referred to the group Archangels who had fallen. Archangels like Gabriel and Balthazar, before them, had special powers. Some that transcended their Grace. Not every Archangel could tap into those powers. Castiel believed that, if nothing else, they would have found a safe place together. He hypothesized that the Archangels would have, at least, chosen to fall close by. They could help Castiel get Heaven back.

"They are in New York."