A/N: Well, this drabble did NOT stay under 1000 words, but I needed all the H/C! For koshisekisen on Tumblr, wanting some sick!Cas, worried!Sam, and mother-hen!Dean. Thanks for looking this over for me, Aini NuFire! Also, thank you so much to Kathy and laureleaf for your reviews on the last drabble!

Setting: S9, so Cas is human, before/replacing the episode "Heaven Can't Wait". This needed to be fixed!

Summary: Sending Cas from the Bunker was a mistake. When he gets sick, Dean is determined to take care of him, whether Ezekiel likes it or not.

In From the Cold

"I'm sorry, I know you don't want me around. But I- I don't know what to do. I think I'm sick."

Dean wanted to pour an entire bottle of whiskey down his throat until the words were burned out of his ears. Except he doubted even that would do it, and he needed to stay sober enough to take care of Cas. Because god knew if he didn't stay wary, Zeke might take it upon himself to get the ex-angel out of the picture.

"Flu?" Sam asked, voice hushed as though to keep from waking Cas. From the way their friend was sweating through the covers, tossing his head in feverish sleep, it wouldn't have mattered.

"Yeah, looks like." Dean dabbed Cas's forehead with the damp towel, heart clenching at the soft moan it elicited.

Sam paused, then asked, "Did you see the sleeping bag?"

Dean nodded numbly. They hadn't been picking Cas up from work at the Gas-n-Sip. They'd been picking him up from his living quarters. Because Cas had no home. Because Cas had nothing.

Because Dean had kicked him out. And when Cas had called, wheezing and hacking, he'd apologized to Dean for calling for help.

"You got the flu once when we were kids," he said gruffly, instead of addressing the living situation that was his fault to begin with. "Just gotta let it run its course."

Sam's eyes crinkled with obvious worry, gaze shifting back to their fitfully turning friend. "We don't know if he can fight it off on his own. His immune system is probably starting from scratch since losing his grace. I mean, it's not like Jimmy's is intact."

"He's strong," Dean snapped. "Cas is the toughest sonofabitch I know. He'll pull through. He'd be too exposed at a hospital." Carefully, he dabbed more sweat away and dipped the towel back in the bowl to avoid Sam's uncertain look.

Then, Sam froze, only for a second before straightening to the tall, grim countenance that Dean was really starting to resent.

"Don't even start," he warned, glaring up at his brother who wasn't his brother at the moment.

Ezekiel's cool eyes glared back. "We had an arrangement."

Letting the towel splash back into the bowl, Dean stood so that they were nose to nose. "Yeah? Well, new arrangement. Cas stays. He's sick! God only knows what kinda crap he picked up, living on the floor of a friggin' gas station! This isn't up for debate, Zeke. I should never have made him leave in the first place, so get used to him being around."

"I must remind you," Ezekiel growled, "if I leave Sam now-"

"Then we'll figure that out, too, like we always do, whatever it takes."

Ezekiel was silent, jaw tightening, as he looked between Dean and Cas. "Do not expect me to heal him. It would be too suspicious."

Dean snorted, shaking his head in disgust. "Whatever. I'll do it myself. Oh, and Zeke?"

The angel had started to turn away, but looked back at him.

Eyes narrowing, Dean growled, "If you ever use Sammy as leverage again, I will rip you out of there myself and give you to the angels. And if you know anything about Winchesters, you know I ain't playing around." He waited a moment, watching Zeke's eyes flash in anger, but he thought he saw uncertainty in the cold gaze.

Then he was Sam again. Dean barely rearranged his own features in time, sitting back down to avoid his brother's momentary confusion.

"Um… what was I about to do?" Sam asked, looking around.

"Advil, crackers, water," Dean listed off without looking at him. "See if we have any Gatorade in the fridge. I'll make some chicken broth when he wakes up."

"Do you think that will help?"

"Worked for you. Sam, don't worry… I got you through this once, I can get him through it now."

He waited until Sam had hurried out of the room to grab the things they needed before reaching to take Cas's clammy hand. "Come on, man, I need you to fight this off," he murmured. "I need you to get better so you can kick my ass for being such a dick."

Cas's eyes blinked open, the deep blue hazy with sickness, but Dean couldn't help sighing in relief.

"Hey, buddy," he murmured. "Are you awake enough to eat something?"

Cas stared at him uncomprehending for a second, then twisted his face away. "'m not hungry."

"Well, you're gonna eat something anyway. Feel like you're gonna hurl?"

"No…"

He didn't sound certain, though, so Dean grabbed the nearby garbage can and plunked it down next to Cas just in time for him to lean over and vomit into it. Dean grabbed his shoulder, supporting his heaving friend until the bout passed, then wordlessly handed him the damp towel. Cas took it without meeting his eyes, wiping his mouth and leaning back.

"Where- where am I?"

Dean's throat closed up. "You're at the Bunker, Cas. You're home. Remember? We came and got you."

He felt Cas tense under his hand, felt his breath quicken slightly. "I thought… Perhaps if you could just make me some… 'papers'. You need papers to go to a hospital, right? You and Sam always make them- I don't have papers."

Taking a bracing breath, Dean nodded. "I know you don't." Because he'd sent Cas out into the world completely unprepared for an eventuality like this. The ex-angel had nothing to go on but what he might have picked up along the way from watching Sam and Dean. He probably didn't even know what having "papers" meant.

"Sorry," Cas slurred, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry… shouldn't have called… I didn't mean to be a burden. I just need some papers. I can go to a hospital, you don't have to keep me here-"

"Stop." Damn it all. "Cas, listen to me, okay? You're not a burden. If you get worse, we might have to take you to a hospital, but I'd rather keep you close as long as possible. It's safer that way."

And what if an angel or a demon, or maybe even a monster—hell, even a human with evil ideas—had found Cas while he was completely vulnerable, sick and unconscious in a gas station with no protection at all? No one there looking out for him, because the person who was supposed to had told him to leave.

Pushing that nightmarish thought away, Dean finished, "You're gonna be okay. But don't apologize. You got nothing to be sorry for, I do." He glanced over his shoulder, hearing footsteps from down the hall. "We'll talk when you're feeling better, okay?"

"'kay."

"Hey, you're awake!" Sam exclaimed, setting down a pack of crackers, some water, and a medicine bottle. "Think you can take this?"

"Take some," Dean ordered. "Then eat a couple of crackers."

"Better just do it," Sam suggested with an anxious smile. "Dean's a bully when he's playing nurse."

Cas just looked between the two, feverish and bewildered, but nodding. Dean took the medicine bottle and dumped two Advil into his palm, holding them out with the glass of water. He waited until Cas had swallowed the pills to help him lay back down.

"Sleep it off," Dean murmured. He raised his voice slightly for Zeke's benefit and finished, "I'll keep an eye on you."

And he would never leave Cas out in the cold again.