Dean knocked again, with much less patience this time. The motel door was locked. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind - mostly of terrible fates that Cas may have suffered. Images of bullet wounds and stab wounds flashed quite vividly through his imagination.

"Cas? It's me. Door's locked." Silence. No response, no movement. He wasn't going to wait any longer. His imagination was running too wild. Dropping to one knee, Dean took out his lock pick and set to work. It wasn't very effective, considering how numb his hands were. It was November and Dean hadn't bothered to grab his gloves on his way out. He dropped the lock pick twice before the door swung open and a familiar face looked down at him.

"Hello, Dean."
"Hey Cas." Dean stood slowly. Smiling at his old friend, his only friend really, he gave a quiet sigh of relief. Castiel's face was flushed with fever and his white button-up work shirt was half undone, exposing the firm muscles of his chest beneath. Which, Dean noted to himself, stirred a rather uncomfortably comfortable feeling in him. But there was no apparent blood or grevious injury, and that was all Dean needed to know.

"I must admit that I am slightly surprised that you came all the way out here, Dean. I thought"
"No, stop right there. You're family, Cas. That's what family does, they-"
"Look out for each other. Yes, you've said that before. I was unsure as to whether or not that still applied to me."

The way Castiel looked up at Dean in that moment was difficult for him to process. He looked sheepish and hurt. Dean couldn't bring himself to say anything. There was nothing to say that would make any amount of difference. He understood what Cas was implying. That he thought Dean had truly kicked him out. Not only from the bunker but from the Winchester family altogether. He never meant it that way, not at all. He never meant for Cas to feel like he didn't belong there. He never meant for Cas to feel so abandoned. As Castiel turned and walked back into the room, throwing himself down on the bed, Dean felt like a complete asshole. Perhaps, he realized, he should have thought about that a little more. About how helpless and hurt Cas would be. About how vulnerable he would be on his own. About how horrific the world must seem to someone who was previously immune to all of life's true discomforts.

"Dean, I don't know what's happening."
"What hurts?" He swallowed hard and entered the room, closing and locking the door behind him.
"My throat and chest, mostly. I feel uncomfortably cold, and then uncomfortably hot. Am I dying already?"

Jesus Christ he looks like a scared puppy...and I sent him out here alone. Dammit!

"No, Cas, you're not dying. Nobody's dying. I've had enough of the whole freaking concept of dying." He sigh and sat down on the bed across from Cas. "You're just sick. Probably a bad cold or the flu or something. Let me feel your forehead." Castiel's skin was hot.

Cas pushed his face up into Dean's cold hand and let out a soft sigh. A weak half-smile pulled at the corner of Dean's mouth. He held his hand there until Castiel looked up at him expectantly, waiting for a response.

"Well, you've definitely got a fever. I can run out to the store and get you some...stuff." He would have to call Sam on his way out and ask what to get.
"Will you be back soon?"
Dean smiled. "I'll be quick, okay? Just stay in bed and cover up, alright? And no dying."

- Sam -

Sam Winchester was not amused. His cell rang and he reached for it, both relieved and furious at the sight of Dean's number on the caller ID.
"Dean! Where the hell are you?"
"Well, gee, good morning to you too Sammy."
"Dude! I came back and there's no you, no note, no car, and whiskey all over the kitchen. I thought you got attacked or something."
"No, I just left in a hurry. Cas called, he's sick. I'm on my way to the store right now. Any idea what supplies I should pick up?"
"Cas called? Really?"
"Yeah. I was kinda surprised too."
"Huh. What kind of sick? Deathly ill? Common cold?"
"I don't know, I'm thinking bad cold or flu."
"Well, get him some Tylenol to help with the fever - he has a fever, right?"
"Hotter than Hell."

There was a moment of awkward silence where both brothers realized that the way they perceived that phrase, as opposed to the way any average person would perceive it, was very different and very unfortunate.

"Yeah get him some tylonol. He needs to keep hydrated so get a case of water and a two liter of ginger ale if they have any. Maybe pick up some soup?"
"Alright, sounds good. I'll call you later, give you an update." Dean hung up.
Sam sighed. He debated whether he should make Dean scrub the floor and table and clean up the mess he had made. He decided that it wasn't worth trying to avoid the sticky spots for however long Dean was gone. After all, he probably wouldn't be back today. Sam smiled. They all knew how Dean felt about Cas.

[I want to devote an entire chapter to the discussion Dean and Cas will be having when he gets back, so I'm ending it here. Input, feedback, comments, etc are welcome and requested! -gG]