Dean sat on the edge of his bed in the bunker. He had been busy all week digging for anything on the mark. Yet nothing has surfaced on how to remove it. He read each page delicately, tracing every word with his index finger. The books held lots of new information, however Dean could care less at the moment. Nothing. Nothing at all, he thought. His only chance was Metatron, though he still wished he were able to gank him. His fists curl tightly into balls at the thought of Metatron. Ripping Cas' grace away, killing him, casting the angels out of heaven, he could go on and on. Suddenly a fluttering sound of angel wings startled Dean from his thoughts. Castiel's swaying and bloody form stood in front of Dean. Cas stumbled forward, not being able to hold himself up, he fell onto a very bewildered Dean. "What the hell, Cas?" He grunted as he caught Cas in his arms, struggling under his limp body. Cas tried to make it easier for Dean, but could not keep up his own weight. "Grace... Fading..." Cas breathed out barely audible. "What happened to you?" Dean growled, ready to fight anything that touched Cas. Cas looked into Dean's eyes with those brilliant sea blue marble eyes that could melt gold. He was breathing heavily, and seemed to be sweating vigorously. Which is not a thing angels do. Dean half dragged-half carried Cas up a few stairs and into his bedroom. Finally Cas was able to speak, "Metatron loyalists, they attacked me. Killing them weakened me greatly. I-I think I need to… sleep." Dean could tell Cas needed to refill on his angel mojo, and but wasn't aware of Cas needing to sleep last time his borrowed grace was fading. "Yeah, alright buddy. I'll get you a new change of clothes. Just wait here." Dean told Cas as he positioned Cas on the bed, propping his head on a pillow.

When Dean returned with a new set of clothes, Cas was sitting patiently on the bed. He handed him the stack of clothes with a small, awkward smile. It was traditional hunting gear, an old flannel and some jeans. Cas happily took them. "Thank you, Dean." He began removing his clothes. "Whoa, whoa, whoa." Dean turned away from Cas. "Don't you want a little, I don't know. Privacy?" Dean stammered. Cas tilted his head while squinting. "No, why? Does it bother you?" He asked, still tilting his head. "Well, kind of." Dean's face was tomato red, and he felt his face heat up. "I'll just look away then." Dean said quickly while turning to face the wall. If Dean were really honest with himself, he didn't mind. He might have actually liked the idea. It didn't take long for Cas to get dressed, when Dean turned around he couldn't help but linger his eyes on him a little longer than he should have. He looked like he belonged, he had the chiseled look that hunters naturally did. "You can sleep in here, night Cas." Dean suggested kindly. He made a move for the door. Castiel still stood at the foot of the bed. "Where will you sleep, Dean?" Cas questioned. Dean stopped, turning his head. "I'll figure something out, now you get some rest, Cas. You look like hell." Dean didn't really know where he was going to sleep, he could kick Sammy out of his bed. As he pushed open the door, Cas whispered, "Dean," Dean turned around to face the angel. "Yeah, Cas?" He stopped, almost out the door. "Will you, will you stay with me?" He asked without taking his eyes off of the floor. Dean's face began to heat up again. He wanted to say yes, he really wanted to say yes. He attempted to hide his eagerness with a weary look. "Sure, Cas," Cas crawled up to the headboard and slid under the thick quilt with a devil's trap sewn into it. The bed creaked as he made himself comfortable. Dean flicked the light switch and crawled in next to Cas. He flipped himself over so he was facing Cas. Both of their eyes glimmering in the dark. Each pair of eyes held pain, loss, and suffering. It was something they had both shared. They knew each other too well. "Goodnight-" was all Dean could say before Cas locked his arms around Dean in an inescapable hug, it wasn't as if Dean wanted to escape. He hugged the fallen angel back with just as much force. Two broken halves who had found their whole. And that is how they fell asleep.

The next morning the only thing to be heard, the words that reached every last corner of the world were from Sam Winchester. "I FUCKING KNEW IT!"