As much as he wanted to go to the nearest bar and drink himself into a stupor, Dean couldn't ignore the throbbing pain in his side and the fact that the wound was still oozing blood at an alarming rate.

He glanced at Sam, wondering if he should have him drive the rest of the way back to the bunker. But then he would be faced with a whole new set of problems, so maybe they shouldn't go back yet.

"So, what do you say me and you get a room for the night and head back tomorrow?" He ventured hopefully.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "It's only three o'clock." He replied. "And the bunker's barely and hour from here, haven't you had enough of crappy motel rooms to last a lifetime?"

"I know." Dean shrugged. "But we haven't done anything fun in forever. We took care of the threat, might as well enjoy ourselves for one night."

"I guess." Agreed Sam uncertainly. "What do you want to do?"

"Get food for one thing, I'm starving." Dean grunted as the car went over a bump in the road and Sam's eyes widened in the tell tale signs of worry. Instantly knowing what had happened, Dean pulled his jacket tighter, trying to hide his injury from his brother. "Sam, it's not that-"

"You're bleeding, Dean. I thought you said you were fine." Sam sounded angry. "Man, you have to stop lying to me all the time."

If only he knew what was really going on here...

"I didn't lie." Dean sighed, not taking his eyes off the road. "I am fine."

"No, you're not." Sam insisted with annoyance. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe I worry about you too? You're so caught up in protecting me all the time you seem to forget. You're all I have, Dean. You think I want to risk loosing you because you're too stubborn to tell me when you're hurt?"

"Okay, enough with the guilt trip." Dean relented, inwardly grateful that his brother would be fixing him up and he wouldn't have to try and hide his pain any longer. "But it's really not that bad, so when you're done mothering me I say we get some food, and maybe score us a couple chicks." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, a grin spreading across his face.

"Dude..." Sam started, then looked down in defeat and shook his head. "You never learn, do you?"

"Where would the fun be in that?"

Dean pulled into the parking lot of the first motel he saw, the place looked run down, the neon lights flickered and buzzed loudly and the bricks around the base of the single story building were starting to crumble. But they'd certainly had worse, and cheap was all they could do right now.

The second the car came to a stop Sam hopped out and went around to the trunk, his brother slowly followed suit. Grabbing a spare shirt he carefully lifted Dean's jacket aside and peeled back the thin, blood soaked t shirt underneath. A soft gasp escaped his lips as he take in the damage.

"What's wrong, you squeamish?" Dean grinned, trying to make light of the matter. For some reason having even his brother mothering him made him feel a bit self conscious. He felt more comfortable being the caregiver than the other way around.

"Will you stop it." Sam gave him a withering look, gingerly pressing the shirt against the wound with a firm hold.

"Ow! Okay, okay!" Dean's voice broke as he pushed Sam's hand away and applied pressure with his own hand instead.

"Sorry." Hovering close like a loyal puppy, Sam bit his lip uncertainly. "You got this?"

"Yep, I'm good." Dean gritted out, hoping to hide how much the damn thing hurt and how dizzy he suddenly felt. How had Cas managed days with an open wound without passing out from the blood loss? He could hardly make it a couple hours without feeling like shit.

Appearing unconvinced, Sam grabbed their bags and the first aid kit, he made sure Dean was behind him before walking towards the main office.

"Wait up!" Dean called to him, moving at a much slower pace, grunting a bit from the pain. Rib injuries sucked, because aside form lying flat on your back until it healed there was really no way to avoid jostling them with every movement.

"Sorry." Sam muttered, stopping to allow Dean to catch up. "You need help?"

"No, no, just need you to slow down." Dean panted, waving his hand dismissively. His brother gave him a worried glance but nodded, reaching out to steady the older Winchester with a firm hold on his shoulder as soon as he was within range.

"Why don't you stay here and I'll go book us a room." Sam suggested.

"Yeah, okay." Dean agreed laboredly, clutching at his side as his knees suddenly buckled under his weight.

"Whoa, easy!" Sam dropped the bags he was carrying and placed his free hand on Dean's chest, gripping the leather jacket tightly in the other. He carefully lowered his brother to the curb and stared into his face intently, hazel eyes cloudy with concern.

"Dean! Are you okay?" he prodded worriedly.

Nodding numbly, Dean gripped Sam's arm for support. "Yeah." He managed, his head swimming with sudden intense nausea. The world seemed to dim around him for a moment and his hand shot out to grab hold of Sam, trying keep from completely toppling over.

"Dean?" Sam's voice sounded muffled, and a million miles away. His frightened face appeared in view and Dean grinned stupidly. The way his brother kept swirling in and out of focus was kind of funny.

"Mmhm?" He mumbled incoherently, his eyes slipping closed of their own accord.

"Dean!" There was obvious panic in Sam's voice now.

Dean tried to answer, but he only managed a small grunt before everything went black.

Cas gripped the edge of the porcelain sink tightly with both hands as he heaved up the remains of the earlier consumed meal. Well mostly it was just this horrible tasting, bright yellow stuff.

Wiping a shaky hand over his mouth, Cas tried not freak out. He didn't really know too much about human problems like this, but he felt fairly certain that puking and feeling like his whole body had jumped ten degrees in temperature wasn't a good thing. It definitely didn't feel good.

Finally feeling the urge to expel his guts pass, Cas slumped to the floor of the bathroom, too weak and shaky to attempt to remain standing. The movement pulled the freshly stitched cut along his ribs and he let out a pained gasp, hand automatically going to the spot in an attempt to ease the discomfort.

A tear of misery slid down his cheek. Cas felt just as scared and alone here as he had being out in the world all alone, he couldn't run from the fact that he had no idea how to take care of himself, didn't know what he was supposed to do as a human. After weeks of watching over his back every second, being hunted like a dog, his nerves were so shot he feared he'd never be able to truly relax again. And now he had the added concern that the brothers were most likely in danger, and he couldn't do a thing about it.

He'd been so relieved when Dean and Sam had found him the first time. He figured they would teach him everything he needed to know, and more or less take care of him in the meanwhile. He'd felt safe, and almost happy, for the first time since he'd lost his grace and had truly thought everything would be okay.

Yet when Dean had told him he couldn't stay, Cas had left without a fight. He knew he didn't deserve their friendship or help and had no right to argue. But he'd expected them to welcome him into their home, and the rejection had hurt, a lot.

Cas blinked back the unpleasant thoughts and curled up between the sink and bathtub, hiding his eyes from the suddenly blinding light overhead with his crossed arms.

Maybe he should call Dean and get some advice... Cas shook his aching head slightly. He'd already tried calling the hunter back and he hadn't picked up, he obviously didn't want to be bothered by his useless angel friend.

Plus, he'd lied. He'd been attacked and wounded by that crazy angel only mere hours before he'd found his way back to the bunker; not two days. But somehow acting all macho and lying had lessened the humiliation he felt at being so helpless. Because tough guys didn't let a couple scratches slow them down, right?

But apparently Cas wasn't very tough, because his side had hurt really bad from the moment he'd gotten the injury, and he felt so exhausted and sick. Well, to be honest he'd felt pretty exhausted before that, but he was pretty sure that had something to do with not eating enough.

Worse still he couldn't shake the burning desire to be held and comforted. So when Dean had been offering he'd greedily accepted it; and oh! Had it felt wonderful. The way Dean had rubbed his back, and gently caressed his hair, and cuddled him close against his warm, comforting body... Except Dean had started acting really weird and now Cas wished he the strength to leave and never return.

And Dean had called him gay! Like that was some horrible disease, or he was the biggest baby Dean had ever seen. Cas felt very upset and angry and sad all at the same, and he wasn't used to all these emotions and the way they were all consuming.

He couldn't understand why Dean had been acting that way, and more importantly; why it suddenly had such a profound impact on his emotional well being. It wasn't the first time one of them had acted like an ass. Yet as an angel he'd barely acknowledged the behavior, let alone allowed it to effect him on a personal level.

Cas' rapid breathing turned more erratic as he fought back more tears, his shoulders trembled with the effort and he made a weak go at standing up. It really didn't matter now, did it? No one else was hear to witness how pitiful he was. And at least he'd been able to halfway hold it together when Dean had been there.

Whining under his breath, Cas grabbed a towel and wrapped it tightly around his suddenly freezing body as involuntarily shivers coursed through him. Yeah. Something was definitely wrong...

The first thing Dean became aware of was a hand lightly resting in his. That's nice. He thought, smiling at the comforting warmth. He squeezed a bit and instantly heard shuffling to the right of him. The smell of disinfectant insulted his nostrils as he tried to turn his head towards the noise. That was never a good sign, and usually meant... Why did he eyes seemed held shut by lead weights?

"Dean?" A soft voice questioned hopefully.

Well, Dean knew that voice anywhere and immediately relaxed a bit.

He tried to open his mouth and assure Sam he was fine, but his throat was so dry he couldn't get anything out and ended up just coughing.

"Hey! Shh, it's okay. I'm here, I got you." Sam muttered, his grip on Dean's hand tightened considerably.

"Where...?" Dean finally croaked out, his voice barely a raspy whisper. He still couldn't make his eyelids work and started to feel a bit panicked.

"You passed out. You're at the hospital now." Sam explained, moving his hand to his brother's shoulder. "Turns out that blade was poisoned."

Poisoned? Well that was a new all time low for an angel. Turns out Cas hadn't been joking around about the whole messed up in the head thing.

Finally getting his eyes to open Dean turned his hazy gaze to look at Sam's pinched face. He still had the same clothes on but his expression held an air of exhaustion gained by sitting on an uncomfortable chair by someone's bedside for hours. Giving the best pleading look he could muster, he hoped Sam would figure out his unspoken question because the horrible cotton mouth made it damn near impossible to talk.

"It's been about six hours." Sam said after a moment, running a hand through his messy hair. "You really scared me." He finished softly, averting his gaze to the floor.

Yeah! Well now you know how I felt when you were dying! Dean wanted to say, but doubted he'd be able to get it all out.

"The doctors want to keep you over night, just to be safe." Sam continued, studying Dean's face for a reaction. Dean hated hospitals, but right now he couldn't muster up more than a slight nod of understanding.

"Sure..." He stared intently into Sam's face. "Sure... would be nice..." He coughed hoarsely and Sam helped him into a sitting position before handing him a glass of water that he gratefully sipped down, relishing the relief it gave his sore throat.

"Sure would be nice if..." Dean handed the glass back to Sam, once again holding his brother's gaze with an intense glare. "If we had an angel to heal me right now."

Sam fidgeted nervously. "Like, Cas?" He supplied in confusion.

Sighing in disappointment, Dean relaxed his death stare, the mention of Cas suddenly making him feel giddy and sad at the same time. "Yeah, sure." He said sheepishly. "Like, Cas."

"Do you need anything?" Sam asked, probably trying to steer the the conversation away from the awkward type.

"How about a burger?" Dean asked wishfully, glancing around at the nightstand and monitors that was the only decor in the small room. "And maybe my phone."

"Sure." Sam agreed, he left and returned a few minutes later with Dean's phone which he set on the stand next to the bed.

Dean glanced at it nervously, resisting the urge to grab it and call Cas. He really wanted to hear the angel's gravely voice but he couldn't let Sam know, for more than one reason.

"Thanks, Sammy." He smiled. "So how about that burger."

Sam rolled his eyes, some of the worry lifting from his face. "Seriously? Don't you think you should eat something easier on your stomach?"

Giving his brother a withering look, Dean quickly added. "And don't forget the extra onions and fries."

"Yeah, yeah." Sam waved his hand in exasperation as he headed towards the door.

"And, Sammy?"

"Hmm?"

"Pie!"

Shaking his head, Sam left without saying a word.

Dean stared after him for several moments before snatching his phone off the nightstand with shaky fingers. This was just a simple phone call to a friend to tell him he was okay and stop worrying. So why did he have butterflies in his chest? And why did the mere thought of that dark haired angel make his pulse pound loudly in his ears?

Cas is a guy! He reminded himself harshly. But the more he thought about it the more that was starting to sound like nothing more than an excuse...