Keepin' the A/N short and sweet- here's the next chapter. Enjoy!

Cas POV


"Seriously Cas, how many times do I have to tell you not to watch a guy when he's sleeping?" Dean grumbles, throwing his good arm across his face. "It's just creepy."

I flinch inwardly, having been caught in my silent assessment of Dean's sleeping form, standing quietly in the doorway to his room, glass of water in hand. Sam had put me in charge of what he deemed "concussion duty", waking Dean every few hours and asking questions he should know the answers too. Unfortunately, those aren't the type of questions I need the answers to right now.

Regardless, I move quickly to Dean's bedside as he lifts himself slowly into a sitting position, and place the water into his waiting hand.

"Thanks," he mutters, sipping slowly.

"Do you know where you are?" I ask the first of the designated questions.

"Lebanon, Kansas. Men of Letters bunker," he says, rolling his eyes but doesn't look at me. "Cas, I'm fine, it's not that bad of a concussion. You don't have to..." he pauses, takes a long, deep breath. "Look, you don't have to be around me any more than what's necessary right now. I know you saved my life back there, and I owe you. But you owe me nothing. Except maybe a few swings to the face, haven't had enough of those lately." he huffs out a short, unamused laugh. I'm searching for a response, but after a few beats of silence, Dean speaks up again, his eyes finally meeting mine.

"Cas why didn't you just leave me? Why would you save me after the things I've done?" his voice betrays him, breaking on the last word, and he clenches his jaw, shifting away from me.

My brow crinkles in disbelief and I stare, dumbfounded for another moment before I can finally speak, the words tumbling off my tongue as I try desperately to make him understand, to somehow erase the grief that fills the contours of his worn face.

"Dean, I'm still...furious. I still haven't fully forgiven you for what you've done. But I would never leave you to your death. I would never abandon you that way. We've both made mistakes. Colossal mistakes. And you've found a way to move past mine, each and every time. So now I will try to do the same for you. We are family, after all," I smile, throwing his old words back at him.

Dean's breath hitches and he turns back to look at me. "You can't...you don't mean that, Cas. You can't forgive me this. I don't..." he stops suddenly, his expression shifting almost instantaneously from one of pure anguish to one of startling detachment. I recoil slightly from the abruptness of the change, only to be alerted to its cause seconds later.

"Hey Sammy," Dean nods. Smiling. As if he wasn't on the edge of breaking down only a moment ago. As if I hadn't just witnessed the crumbling of some of his upstanding walls. It frightens me how easily he can still hide himself, how quickly he can cover up the things that tear him apart from the inside out. I continue to stare at him, beseeching, not even turning to glance at his brother, whom I can feel standing in the doorway. Dean doesn't return my gaze, deliberately choosing to focus only on Sam.

"Hey, feelin' better?" Sam replies, running a hand through his already tousled hair.

"Yeah, I'm good. Felt fine yesterday too, but you've had me on lockdown anyway. Please tell me you've got something for me to do? I'm dying here," Dean pleads, tossing the sheets aside and beginning to stand. He teeters for a moment on his feet, in danger of falling backwards onto the bed. Without thinking, I reach for him, catching his arm and pulling him upright. His reaction is unanticipated. Dean jerks away, almost losing his balance again.

"Knock it off, Cas," he yells, shoving me backwards.

I stumble back several steps, my hand coming back reflexively to catch me on the nightstand but instead hitting the lamp there, knocking it to the ground where it shatters, glass flying everywhere.


The room is dead silent for several beats, all three of us staring at the broken shards on the floor. And then suddenly Dean is on his knees beside the nightstand, swatting furiously at the broken glass, trying to dig his way to a small, yellowed piece of paper I had only just noticed.

"Dean, what the hell?" Sam demands. He starts to kneel beside his brother, only to stop halfway and regain his feet. "...Oh," is all he says.

Confused, I focus my attention on what Dean holds in his now shaking, slightly bloodied hands. Oh. What I had mistaken for a small, folded piece of paper is actually a photograph.

"Dean I'm sorry..." I start to apologize, but he cuts me off, his tone murderous.

"Stop apologizing. Just stop. I'm the one who shoved you, Cas. I'm the one who screwed this up, so stop trying to fix it." I read the double meaning behind his words, but the force of them is somewhat diminished as he turns back to the picture that rests in his hands, almost as if he's caressing it. Slowly, using the bed for support, he comes to his feet, brushing off the small pieces of glass that have become embedded in his exposed legs, leaving trails of crimson in their wake. He rubs his thumb across the picture of himself and Mary, making sure it is completely unmarred before placing it back on the nightstand. Sam has been watching the entire display with a somewhat dazed expression, but he seems to finally snap out of it.

"Dean?"

"What Sam?" Dean asks, his gaze still locked on the photograph, his tone suddenly soft. Sam sighs and takes a step forward, grabbing his brother's arm and forcing Dean to face him.

"Please tell me what's going on because you're really starting to freak me out here. You gotta talk to me man. Whatever's going on, believe me, I can handle it. Just...please. Stop with all the goddamn secrets because that is what I can't deal with."

"Sam nothing's going on," Dean tries to protest, but I interrupt before he can continue.

"Dean. He needs to know."

Sam eyes widen in surprise, and then narrow to slits as he turns to face me. "Need to know what?" I hesitate, glancing over at Dean who is currently staring at me with a look that should be enough to drop me where I stand.

"NEED TO KNOW WHAT?" Sam screams, whipping his head back and forth between the two of us. At the moment, I don't know which Winchester to be more afraid of. Luckily, their glares seem to bypass me after a moment, choosing to land on each other instead. Dean breaks contact first.

"Dammit Cas," he mutters before exhaling deeply and turning once again to meet his little brother's eyes. "Look...I'll tell you alright? But I know...I know it might change things between us. I know you might hate me for it, so I want you to understand that I don't regret any of it. You get me Sammy? I would do it all over again if I had to."

Sam shakes his head slightly. He's obviously confused, but his tone has softened considerably to match Dean's. "Dean, I could never hate you. Man, you're scaring me. Please just tell me what's going on."

Dean sighs again, running a hand across the small, slowly healing cuts that still mar his lips before he begins to speak. I wait expectantly, and though I already know what Dean has done, I still find myself intrigued to know what he will say- how he will explain it to his brother.

"You were dying, Sam," he murmurs softly. "After the trials, you were dying and your body was shutting down on itself and I knew you weren't gonna make it...so I did what I had to do to save you. It wasn't like I wanted to..."

"What did you do, Dean?" Sam asks quietly. "I asked you if you made another deal and you said..." he starts, the tears beginning to pool behind his eyes. Dean cuts in before they have a chance to fall.

"No no no Sam, I told you before, I didn't make a deal. It's not... I mean I'm not..." he pauses again, trying to find the words. "I guess you could say I'm still damned though." Dean tries for a laugh but it comes out as more of a small, bitter exhale. "I killed an angel, Sam. A few actually. I used their blood to heal you. It was the only way..."

"You what?" Sam whispers, gaping. He stares at the guilt stricken look on Dean's face and after a moment, the words come stronger, angrier. He's screaming before he even understands his own words. "YOU'VE BEEN FEEDING ME ANGEL BLOOD? FUCKING ANGEL BLOOD? AND YOU JUST...WHAT? YOU THOUGHT THAT WOULD BE OKAY? YOU THOUGHT I'D BE FINE WITH IT? WHAT THE HELL DEAN?"

"No. No, I knew you wouldn't be fine with it Sam, that's why I didn't tell you," Dean replies, defeated. He appears to have taken a physical beating from his brother's screams, his shoulders hunched and guarded. Sam seems to sense this, but it doesn't deter him completely. Instead, he begins to unleash his anger on me.

"Does that mean you knew about this?" he challenges, turning to face me. "You knew Dean was killing angels, and you didn't do anything to stop it?"

Dean intercedes before I have a chance to respond, placing himself between me and the imposing form of his little brother.

"Don't put this on Cas, Sam. This is all me. Cas almost killed me when he found out. Still might, I imagine. Wouldn't blame him." He glances back to me at those words, his expression as sad and resigned as he had been when I was holding a blade against his neck.

"Dean..." I start, shaking my head, but he has already moved back to Sam.

" I wouldn't blame you either Sammy. Look, I'm not proud. But I did what I had to. And I know you would've done the same for me. So I'm asking you to just..."

"To what, Dean?" Sam asks gravely, "To forget about it? To pretend like I don't know?"

"No Sam, I'm asking for your forgiveness," Dean pleads.

I gauge the silence that follows, searching Sam's face, trying to see beneath the practiced front of a Winchester and read his true emotions.

And suddenly I am bombarded with my own.

I realize that Dean is not only asking for Sam's forgiveness, he is also asking for mine. I return my focus to him and see him glance at me for one loaded moment, confirming my beliefs. I open my mouth to speak, to say something, but close it again after a moment. Dean seems to read my thoughts, speaking up again.

"Look, it doesn't have to be right now. I'm just asking for a chance at 'eventually'. I know it's not something..."

"I forgive you, Dean," Sam interrupts, eyes cast down to the floor. Dean freezes.

"What?" he asks.

"I said I forgive you, Dean. I would've done the same thing for you." When Sam looks up at his brother, his expression is filled only with resolve. With love. And suddenly it's just the two of them in the room. And I feel completely and utterly out of place here. An outsider looking in on something extraordinary. Unbreakable. An immense sadness fills me, but at the same time, I understand that this is exactly as it should be. And so I begin to back quietly from the room, unnoticed by the two men who, even after all this time, still stand together against the world. Against everything.

And I envy them.


Dawww poor Cas. Sorry to leave you here, but I'll pick up again with Sam's POV. Plus we'll finally get some Crowley action. Stay tuned, and as always, thank you for all your lovely comments, they keep me motivated!