Thank you for all of your support! Really, it means a lot to me-i love each and every one of you, and thank you for all the reviews! It is much appreciated!

I had two very lovely ladies as beta's for this chapter because i couldn't get it to flow quite right. They can both be located over at Tumblr. raggedyangelin221b and im-not-misha-collins.

Enjoy!


Castiel awoke with a pained cry that startled Gabriel so much that he almost swerved off the road. When Gabriel managed to get enough control of the Ranchero to park it haphazardly on the side of the road, he spun around in alarm. "Holy Hell, Cas!"

Castiel was sitting ramrod straight, fingers digging into the leather of the seat. His face was pale except for two bright blooms of red high on his cheeks, and he looked panicked. "Gabriel?" His voice was high, strung-out. "Gabriel, you died."

"Yeah, thank you for pointing out the obvious. C'mere," He gestured for the dark-haired man to lean forward. "You look sick." Castiel muttered something in opposition and gave a listless shake of his head. Nevertheless, he leaned forward and allowed Gabriel to press the back of his hand to his forehead. Gabriel had seen humans do it when another was ill. When Gabriel's hand came into contact with skin that was a lot hotter than it should be, he sighed. "Okay, kiddo, we need to get some water in you."

The backpack that Chuck had given him was on the passenger seat. He pulled it closer to him and pulled out a plastic bottle of water after a moment of shifting through the bag's contents. Gabriel pushed it into Castiel's hands. "Twist off the cap and drink it, Cassie."

Castiel's fingers fumbled over the small plastic cap— gaunt face twisted in mild confusion. He looked back up at Gabriel. "I can't… How do I...?" He held the small bottle back out to the ex-archangel. Gabriel took it with a small roll of his eyes and twisted it open, handing the cap and the bottle back to Castiel.

While Castiel drank—great, relieving gulps of the water—Gabriel turned back to the backpack and rifled through it some more. Chuck had seemed overly fond of those pills he'd made Gabriel take for his head. He wasn't sure if they would help Castiel's fever go down any, but it had helped his migraine, and the prophet had enough heavenly foresight to know if he would need the medication. He whooped in triumph when he found a little plastic bottle of Advil, under a small stack of food that seemed composed primarily of jerky and granola. He made a mental note to bitch out the prophet for not packing him anything with sugar or artificial flavoring before popping open the cap and knocking two out into his palm. He held them out to Castiel. "Hey, I think these will help. Chuck gave me some when I woke up."

Castiel unquestioningly took them from the shorter man's outstretched hand—swallowing them with direction from Gabriel. He turned his leaden gaze, bleary and sad, back to his brother. "Chuck is dead too."

Gabriel shook his head. "He isn't, kiddo. Promise. You go back to sleep—I have to get us to the Winchesters. Don't puke in the car." He was beginning to feel oddly protective of the gaudy purple vehicle, as stupid and old as the thing was.

Castiel just nodded and lay back down compliantly, gripping the water bottle like a lifeline. Turning his whiskey-colored eyes back to the road, Gabriel restarted the car.

The rumbling of the engine lulled Castiel back into a sleep laced with fire and hunters and falling angels.