All characters (except Lexi) are owned by the CW, NOT me!

Chapter 1

"I know, Sammy!" Dean shouted angrily, pacing back and forth between one of the motel beds that were unfortunately covered in a what-used-to-be-olive-green duvet and the wobbly wooden table somebody had placed next to the window. "All I mean is, why couldn't the evil things that weren't born in Hell get trapped there too?"

"Because that doesn't make sense, Dean," an exasperated Sam replied from the table, but he understood Dean's frustration. They had put so much into closing the gates of Hell, and yet even with Crowley and all his demons permanently put at bay, the Winchesters' work never seemed to cease.

Sam and Dean's redundant bickering was interrupted when Cas materialized in the middle of the room.

They stared at him for a moment as he swayed, then collapsed on the floor. Both brothers rushed over to help him. "CAS!" Dean yelled, grabbing the angel by the collar of his blood stained trench coat while Sam put a hand up to Cas' nose, making sure he was still breathing. Exchanging a look of wary relief, they each gripped one of Castiel's arms and hoisted him onto one of the thin, creaky beds.

A few hours later, Sam thought he saw Cas' head move out of the corner of his eye. He blinked hard, wishing he were in bed instead of searching through local newspaper articles. When's the last time Dean pulled an all-nighter researching? he wondered, annoyed by the faint snoring from the far bed, and he vowed that next time he'd claim the first sleeping shift.

Sam's head snapped up as Cas moved again, letting out a small moan as his eyes fluttered open and finally locked onto Sam.

"Cas?" Sam whispered, quickly getting up from the chair and moving towards the bed.

"Sam," Cas sighed in his deep, gravelly voice as he started to sit up. He turned away from Sam, seeming puzzled for a moment until he saw Dean asleep in the other bed. Cas took a deep breath and put a hand to his temple. "How long was I out?"

"About five or six hours," Sam replied. "Cas… what happened?"

Cas' eyes flitted around the room anxiously. "Not now," he whispered back.

In the next bed, Dean began to stir. He turned over slowly, but when he saw Cas awake he sat up quickly.

"Jesus, Cas." Dean rubbed his eyes. "Why do you always have to scare us like that?"

Cas gave him an affectionate glance, then looked down at his bloodied hands. "I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't mean… to scare you." He looked back up, and though he couldn't quite read the expression on Dean's face, Cas knew he was relieved to be back with the Winchesters.

"So are you going to tell us what the hell is going on?" Dean demanded, turning from Cas to Sam and then back again.

Cas hesitated, eyes nervously searching the room again. "We'll need to find a safer place to talk," he mumbled, barely audible.

Dean closed his eyes, and his jaw tightened as he exhaled sharply. "Well, then does it have to be right now? Are you going to go zapping off someplace before tomorrow?"

Cas looked confused. "No… I really don't think so," he answered, turning back to Dean.

Sam gave Dean a reproachful look behind Cas' back. "Cas, all he meant was maybe we should get a little rest before we dive into this."

"Of course," Cas replied matter-of-factly. "I should probably clean up a bit." He looked down at himself, realizing for the first time what a state he was in. He stood up and headed towards the bathroom, then stopped. "You take the bed, Sam," he said. "I think I'm as well rested as I'm going to get."

Sam nodded, and turned to close his laptop.

"Hey, Cas," Dean started. Cas turned to look at him. "You're... you're good, right?"

"Yes, Dean," Cas answered with a small smile. "I'm good." But when he entered the bathroom and saw his bruised face and tortured eyes in the cloudy motel mirror, he knew he hadn't exactly told Dean the truth.

When Dean woke again, the sun was shining into his eyes. After a few seconds, he was able to open them enough to see Castiel sitting at the beat-up wooden table staring out the window, no longer battered and bloody but still pensive and withdrawn. Dean vaguely wondered how long he'd been sitting there, but he'd known Cas long enough to have a good idea that it had been all night. The thought left his head as he got up and stretched lazily. Cas' face brightened somewhat when he noticed Dean awake, and he rose from his chair hopefully.

"Not going anywhere yet, Cas," Dean grumbled irritably. "I can't deal with any of your bull crap before a shower and some coffee." He shuffled into the bathroom and slammed the door shut before starting up the hot water.

Cas looked down at the ground and lowered himself back into the chair to resume his gazing position.

Sam had been woken up by the door slam, and he sighed as he swung his legs off the bed. Cas did not look at him.

"What the…" Sam turned toward the bathroom, running a hand through his slept-in hair. He looked at Cas questioningly.

"We aren't dealing with any of my bull crap before a shower and some coffee," Cas repeated flatly.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Cas… Look, he's still just upset about the whole closing-the-hell-gates thing."

"How many times do I have to explain to you two that I would have been there if I could?" Cas glared at Sam.

"No, I know," Sam replied with an earnest look. "You don't have to tell me." He glanced again at the bathroom door, feeling like Cas didn't deserve this treatment from Dean. Cas' eyes were focused outside the window again, his mind already someplace far away. Sam watched him for a second, then sighed again and stood up to start the coffeepot.