Author's note: Hello and thanks for sticking with me! It's been a long while since I've written any fanfic (used to do Stargate and Harry Potter a really long time ago) but I think I'm getting back into the flow. Please let me know what you think so far...

A massive THANK YOU to CornishGirl for pointing out that the original Chapter 4 had all the HMTL coding in it (thanks for nothing) – you're a life saver :-)

Chapter 4

"Dean, that was ten months ago."

Ten months. Dean tried to remember something, anything from the last ten months. He'd lost ten months... and some, he realised as he racked his brain. The weeks leading up to his confrontation with Metatron were disjointed in his mind; broken snippets of memories jumbled together told him enough to know what happened, but there were still some blanks.

His mind was full of images of the First Blade. The thought of it made Dean's skin crawl and there was a bitter taste on his tongue. This new feeling of, what was he feeling? Disgust? Guilt? Whatever it was, it was a stark contrast to how he had felt about the Blade before, when he had held it in his hand and spilled demon blood with it. Back then he had craved the power like a drug he couldn't get enough of, it had drawn him in and gotten him addicted to killing.

The silence in the kitchen was palpable. It had been almost a minute since Sam had told his brother that the last memory Dean had was ten months old. Dean sat with his head bowed, staring at nothing on the table and lost to his thoughts. The memory of the Blade was making him feel on-edge and jittery, his heart was hammering in his chest and his palms were starting to sweat. He didn't know why, it was just demons he killed, right?

Sam sat opposite Dean, looking at his brother in anticipation and waiting for some kind of reaction. Castiel held a mug of coffee with both hands in the middle of the room, he was caught somewhere between wanting to move to the table to give Dean the mug and not wanting to move a muscle in case it broke the silence and the illusion of calm it was creating.

After a few seconds, Castiel made the decision to move from his spot and slowly but surely walked over to Dean. Carefully, he set the mug down next to the plate of half eaten sandwich.

The sound of the mug touching down on the table broke Dean out of his reverie, as Cas had suspected. Blood hammering in his ears, Dean pushed the plate away from him; his appetite suddenly gone. "No, you're lying again," Dean shot toward Sam before making for the door as quickly as his broken body would allow, pushing past a startled Cas as he went.

Dean got as far as the hallway before the pain became too much and he started to crumple to the floor. Sam got up to help but Cas was quicker and was already at Dean's side by the time Sam made it around the table. Cas moved their bodies together so Dean could lean against his side. Dean let Cas duck under his good arm so he could wrap it around the former angel's shoulders, while Cas supported him with one arm around his waist and the other hand pressed against his ribs to keep them both upright.

The hammering in his ears calmed in the presence of the man pressed against his side. But his heart still hammered under Castiel's hand and his breath was coming in short gasps. Castiel knew enough about human reactions to guess that the younger man was close to having some sort of panic attack, so started to move the hand on his back gently up and down in what he hoped was a calming motion.

After a short time, Dean's breathing slowed to a more normal pace and his heart didn't beat as fast under Cas' hand. Cas could feel the hunter's body relax into him and he struggled to keep them both on their feet. "You should rest, Dean."

Slowly they moved towards the bedrooms, neither saying a word but both knowing when the other needed to stop for a break or readjust their hold on each other slightly. When they eventually reached the right room, Cas gently manoeuvred Dean around his body so they were face to face, the back of Dean's knees brushing the bed.

Blue eyes met green; their bodies barely a few inches apart. Dean's breath hitched in his throat and he swayed slightly. Castiel thought he was starting to panic again so gripped Dean's upper arms as Dean steadied himself by placing his hands on the shorter man's chest.

They stood face to face, both trying to find answers in the other's eyes.

Dean broke their staring contest to search Cas' face in the dim light for confirmation that Sam had been lying, but he couldn't find any sign. The only thing he could determine for sure was that Cas was tired, the dark circles under his eyes and the stubble on his chin made him seem almost human... Dean took a sharp intake of breath and tried to move back, only the bed stopped him.

The darker haired man tilted his head to the side before realising what had just happened. "Dean," his voice didn't seem as deep or commanding as it usually did. "I am human again, or I would have taken away your pain."

The thought that Cas might be human hadn't even crossed Dean's mind. The last time they met, Cas had been an angel, albeit an angel with stolen grace, but beggars can't be choosers. He thought his friend would have tried to find his own grace, how was he surviving without it? He could see now that being human for this long must have been tough; Cas seemed skinnier than he had been before, or it could be that he was wearing one of the Winchester's old flannels that was too big for him.

"I'm sorry." Dean whispered.

"For what?" At the back of Castiel's mind there was a growing feeling of dread at the thought that Dean might have remembered something from his months as a demon. Something in the pit of his stomach lurched at the thought that Dean still didn't know that he had been a demon.

"For humanity," The corner of Dean's mouth turned up into a bitter smile. "It sucks, man."

He flopped back onto the bed and out of Castiel's grip. He winced as he landed on his injured shoulder but quickly rolled away to face the wall, hiding his pain and the tears that threatened to spill.

Castiel felt a twinge of sadness at the loss of Dean's contact. He hated to see his friend in pain, whether physical or emotional, and he hated that he could no longer do anything about it. He hated that Dean always tried to hide it. After a brief moment, he lifted the discarded blanket from the bottom of the bed and placed it over Dean who had his eyes closed, feigning sleep.

Sam stood in the kitchen watching Cas lead Dean away slowly. He didn't know what he had expected to happen when Dean woke up, maybe he was hoping they'd get some answers and that Dean would be okay. It was clear that Dean wasn't okay and judging by the amount of time missing from Dean's memory, he might not be okay for a very long time.

In a way, he was glad Dean didn't remember his time as a demon; Sam wished he didn't remember Dean as a demon. The memories often haunted him at night, or in the day, or whenever he could bear to close his eyes and attempted to sleep.

Sam thought about Dean's words, "you lied". Dean remembered that much then, the lies he had told his big brother about not being willing to save him. It was a crappy thing to do, to say that to someone, although he thought he'd meant it at the time. In reality, it was Sam's attempt at getting Dean to let him go, even though he knew Dean didn't have it in him – it had always been Dean's prerogative to protect him, always had and always will (with the exception of possession or being turned into a demon). He knew Dean had meant it in a 'you do care about me' kind of way, but it still hurt to think Dean's last memory was of him lying, again. And now Dean didn't seem to trust anything he said.

It was easier when they were kids, Sam would lie about small things and seemingly get away with them. His usual was going to the library 'for research' when he was actually doing a week's worth of homework, or when he'd faked illnesses to stay at Pastor Jim's for two weeks when Dad and Dean were off hunting just before he had exams. But recently his lies that were meant to protect Dean just ended up hurting them both, hurting his brother. Sam promised himself he'd be as truthful as possible from now on, even if that meant Dean might get hurt in the process; hurt from the truth is better than the betrayal of a lie.

He couldn't stay in the kitchen forever, but he wanted to give Dean some space. Besides, Cas would make sure Dean was okay. He started to clear up the used plates and mugs. He started making a mental list of things to do before Dean emerged from his room again: tidy the mess in the library, clean the Impala inside and out, and check the car to make sure the First Blade hadn't made it back into Dean's possession after Crowley had confiscated it. It was going to be a long day.

Blood dripped from the Blade in his hand. He felt the surge of power course through his body as he stood over the man he had just killed. Eyes flicked from green to black and back again. He felt good.