"I'm not goin' Sam."

"Yeah you are."

"I said no, and I goddamn meant it. You're still sick."

"And I'm gonna be sick until Kevin can find something in the tablet to help me out. You being cooped up here isn't doing anybody any good."

"Dean, I can take care of Sam-"

"Shut up Kevin, nobody's talkin' to you."

"This is what I'm talking about! You're frustrated, and you're taking out on the people around you. Enough is enough, Dean."

"So, what? You're throwing me out?"

"For a two day hunt. You don't have to be so freaking dramatic. You're not even going out of state."

"I still say I'm not going at all."

"You're outvoted Dean. There's people dying and we have a job to do."

"Grr…fine. Play the family business card. I'll go…get my kit together."

"Great."

Annoying siblings? Yeah I get it. Even bedridden Sam can still be giganticpain in my ass, no pun intended.

I'm being banished from the MoL bunker, if you can believe that. Apparently I'm lashing out, and Kevin and Sam are sick of it. There sending me to Kansas City for a salt and burn, so it looks like we'll both be on the road for the next few days. I don't like it, but I've been 'outvoted'.

Ugh…maybe they've got a point. I've been walking in circles for the last few days, and I can be a real ass when I'm feeling helpless. You know that better than anyone, unfortunately. I guess a little ghost hunting action could help take the edge off. I just don't like leaving Sam unprotected. Kevin too, I guess. It's hard enough with you out there, badass though you are. …yeah. Anyways, I'm leaving tomorrow morning. It's gonna be real weird without anybody riding shotgun. You in the area? I hear KC has some good burgers. Just kidding, thought I probably could use the backup. I haven't hunted solo in a while. It'll be fun.

Cheers,

Dean

"Castiel!"

A small hand gripped at his shoulder and shook, jarring him right out the first deep sleep he had cultivated in a month. He cracked one eye open, looking right into the tense and worried face of Ambriel. For the first time, she looked young.

He sat up, her hand falling from his shoulder. "What is it?"

"Hadarniel. He- just collapsed, started speaking jibberish. I can't get him to come to."Her voice was steady but her shaking palms betrayed her nerves. "Now he's just unconscious." She gestured to the other side of the room.

Castiel strode over to where Hardarniel lay on the floor. Kneeling down to get a closer look, he noticed that his eyes were shut, his dark skin almost impossibly translucent. His chest was still. Castiel knew angels didn't technically need to breathe, but their vessels grew uncomfortable if left without oxygen. There were certain things the body just got used to.

Ambriel followed him over. "I've never seen an angel lose consciousness." She muttered.

"Nor have I."

As Castiel went to check Hardarniel's pulse, the angel's eyes flew open and he gasped for air, coughing and sputtering until Castiel could help him into a seated a position. Cas waited a moment for Hadarniel to catch his breath.

"What happened?" He asked, helping Hardarniel onto the bed.

His eyes were wild. "So much fire. I couldn't walk through it, couldn't even see through it."

Ambriel folded her arms, her expression back to its usual stern position. "I don't understand. Angels are not privy to personal psychic visions, and we cannot dream."

Hadarniel looked up at her, his eyes tired and even more lined than before. "Your rules are perfectly accurate, fledgling. However, angels have never been purged from the heavens before."

Ambriel squinted but remained silent. Castiel shook his head. "Now is not the time for asserting dominance. What else did you see?"

"It's not about what I saw, it's about what I know." The color was returning to his face.

"And what do you know?"

Hadarniel sighed, running his fingers through his hair. His hands shook slightly as he mumbled, "Abaddon is at large."

Castiel nodded, having heard this from the Winchesters.

He continued. "She has… she has some angels, possibly all of them. Captive. I believe I was one of them, until I escaped, losing my memory in the process. I saw…" He paused, rubbing his head, "I saw lights."

"Was it grace?" Ambriel asked.

Hadarniel nodded. "Yes. But it was warped. Condensed in some way."

Castiel swallowed the lump forming in his throat. "Was there anything else?"

Hadarniel got up, testing out his shaking legs. His voice still shook, but with new resolve. "I know where she is."

Hello Dean,

I think Sam and Kevin are right. A hunt will be good for you. You've said it yourself; it's part of who you are.

We are also back on the road again. Hadarniel has had a vision concerning the fallen. Angels don't often have visions, so I feel inclined to take this seriously. We head out west tomorrow.

We are both busy, so I may not get a chance to write for a few days… Try to be cautious. I will do the same.

Your friend,

Castiel

Blood loss was a funny thing, Dean thought to himself as he tightened the makeshift tourniquet over his slashed bicep. Once the adrenaline wears off, all that's left is exhaustion, dry mouth, and an overwhelming urge to spill your guts to the closest guy and just hug it out. Dean was feeling…loopy. It was like being drunk. But not sullen, manly, beer and scotch drunk. No, it was like red wine, champagne, "I'm trapped at Lisa's cousin's engagement party and all their serving are these fruity vodka drinks" kind of drunk. Dean should probably drink some water. Or he could talk to Cas. Cas probably knew all about vengeful spirits who turned out to actually be demons who had a weekend off and decided to play poltergeist just for the hell of it. Yeah. That's what he should do.

Cas… Not a ghost after all. Defffinitely not A ghost.

What do you mean? Are you alright?

Demon… S'ok. M'ok… Hurts

Holding a pencil was turning out to be more challenging than Dean anticipated. As was thinking in complete sentences. As was not telling Cas that he needed him more than the pint and half of blood he had lost.

Are you injured? Dean what happened?

Got me. Just a little. I got him tho… hA. Got 'im good cas.

Where are you? Ambriel can- I'm c-

"I will do no such thing."

Cas looked up to see Ambriel and Hadarniel, arms crossed and faces hard. It would almost be a comical image if he could remember how to smile. "You don't understand. Dean's hurt. He could be dying. We have to go to him."

"I understand. Perfectly. You want to jeopardize our whole mission just to help your favorite human, who isn't even asking for your help." Children played in the park around them, their laughter shrill in the background. "Do you realize that if I were to fly you there, it would be the equivalent of taking my vessel's pants and hoisting them up the flag pole? Every demon will swamp us. And then we'll really be in trouble."

Anger boiled in Cas's sternum. He directed it Ambriel and her ridiculous pink pants. "Between me, you, and Hadarniel, we can take on a few demons. This is important Ambriel. I would not ask this lightly."

"I'm sorry, Castiel," Her face softened slightly, "But you're just a man, and not thinking strategically right now. Our mission has to come first, and a battle with demons would put us right on Abaddon's radar."

Castiel swallowed a lump forming in his throat, feeling his sense of control slip through his fingers once again. If he were an angel he would have already healed Dean by now and fought off the hoard off demons that would follow him. He didn't care for being at the mercy of other angels.

Looking down, he saw that Dean had written again.

I'm still in kansasc city. Dident even get to try any burgers. Arm's no good for driving.

Dean I need you to stay awake. Keep writing if that helps. I'm going to call Kevin.

Cas set down his pen and got to his feet. "I'm going to find a phone. Stay here and watch my things, if you can manage to do that for me." His voice was shaking and he pretended to not see Ambriel's self-righteous look of pity.

Nooo… I'm fine. I am good. Im dean Winchester. Don't need anybody.

Maybe not anybody. I think im loosing a little bit too much blood over here. M'ok tho. Already called kKevin. Hes comin'

Where are you,cas? Is it nice? It should be somewhere nice. Ive dragged you to tooooo many shitty places. Tell me youre somewhere good now.

You tried to take me someplace good. I remember. Actually…we were just in the bunker. But it felt good. Felt like going somewhere brand new. Nevr told you. Felt good.

Mm…Dean let himself get lost for a minute, going back to a place that was warm, and didn't smell like blood and mildew, and he had Cas' hand tight on the back of his neck and…Dean growled as he leant forward, accidentally putting weight on his bad arm. He tried to clench his jaw and ignore the wave of nausea. Dean wished Cas could come fix him. Dean wished he'd never met Cas, so in times like these he wouldn't wish that Cas would come fix him. He kinda wished Cas could just come and rub his back for a minute, maybe help him get a glass of water.

Not feelin' so hot right now though… Writing's hard. Imm gonna lay down cas… Glaad you left left… Deserve better.

Castiel's hands shook hard as he tried to maneuver his change into the pay phone. The receiver felt greasy and rough but he shoved it to his ear anyway, thankful that Dean had sat him down one night in the bunker and made him memorize each of their cell-phone numbers.

His heart sped as it rang once, twice, three times before Kevin finally picked up.

"Hello?"

"Kevin! It's Dean- he's hurt." Cas took a deep breath, steadying his shaking voice. "The hunt you sent him on was not a gh-"

"I got it, Cas. He already called me, I'm on my way to OC now."

"Oh," Cas sputtered, taken aback by Kevin's cavalier tone. "What did he tell you?"

Kevin made a nondescript noise. "Not much, just that he couldn't drive and needed a lift back to the bunker."

Castiel lowered the phone for a moment, banging his fist on the opaque plastic wall of the telephone booth. "Dammit Dean," He raised the phone again, "Kevin, Dean's hurt. He's losing blood. You have to get there as soon as you can. I'm trying to keep him calm but I'm afraid he's going to lose consciousness soon—"

"What?" Cas heard a muffled car horn beeping and Kevin shouting "Fuck you asshole it was still yellow! Cas you still there? He sounded fine on the phone an hour ago. Well fuck, I'm gonna be there in twenty minutes. Keep him talking. Tell him I'm almost there."

Cas nodded before he realized that Kevin couldn't hear him. "Thank you Kevin. Let me know how he is when you arrive."

"Don't mention it. Just doing my duty as Prophet of the Lord."

"Kevin—"

"Save it man. Just keep him awake. Talk to you soon." Click.

Cas dropped the receiver and all but ran back to Ambriel and Hadarniel, snatching up his pen and starting to write vigorously.

Dean I'm back. Keeping writing to me until Kevin gets there. I called him and he's almost there now.

Too tired. Youre gone. Can still hear your voice tho… sams gonna feel guilty now. Don't wan 'im to.

Sam will not feel guilty because you're going to be fine. You're going to be fine and I'm going to do my best- I'm gonna get back whenever I can.

Dean?

DEAN.

This isn't funny Dean.

Castiel's breathing was ragged and shallow and the calm of the clear summer morning mocked him. Dean was dying. Dean could be dead. Dean was alone.

Cas was alone.

I'll tell you where I am if you answer me.

Don't com back. Never. Go as far away as you can.

I dontt wanna know. If you tell me I'll come get you and I don't want to. Don't want to break you anymore.

Don't say that.

Illinois

Lombard. To be exact. On our way to St. Louis.

Now you know. I don't want to hide from you. I have to do this- but I'm not hiding from you.

No no NO! DON'T TELL ME. Don't- youre so close. Your so close but youre not coming here. youre always so close.

Could Dean drive that far right now? Maybe if he could make some kind of sling…Dean tried to stand, but blackness flashed at the edges of his vision and he landed right back on his ass. At least he hadn't missed the chair. Maybe when Kevin got here he would help Dean drive to Illinois.

Too late. And I- I want to come. Need to, really. But Ambriel is being… difficult.

I wish I could fly to you like I used to. I barely remember what it's like having that kind of power.

All the times I didn't answer your prayers… I wish I could make up for it.

Not god cas. Itsok. My fault. Didn't appreciate… My arm hurts. a little.

Dean just stay until Kevin is there.

This isn't like you. Get pissed! Get angry! Like you would tell Sam.

You were right. I stole your blue flannel. THe one with the red stripes. I knew it was new but I liked it so I took it. And I don't even regret it. I wanted something of yours too badly to care.

What do you have to say about that?

Cas took his shirt. Cas took his shirt. On purpose. Had Dean worn it yet? Did it smell like him? Did it smell like Cas now too? Maybe Cas wasn't wearing it. Maybe he just kept it, and sometimes when the angels were buggin' him he took it out of his bag and felt the soft edges, maybe tickled his nose against the collar, where a little of Dean's after shave still hovered. Could he tell Cas that? No, better not.

Ha… I took your trench coat. I kept it. So there. Alllthetime you were gone I still haad it.

I'm glad you kept it. I couldn't trust anyone else.

Haa… M'thirsty. I think Kevin's here.

Hope its Kevin.

If its not Kevin… im sorry. Sorry i didn't stop you. Sorry i stopped you.

"Dean! Jesus Christ you stupid schmuck…"

Oh. Its Kevin. That's Good.

"I should of known when Cas called that it was more serious than you told me," Kevin scolded him, "'Just a scratch'? Really?"

Dean's head was flat on the desk by this point, but he waved tiredly as Kevin stormed across the musty motel room. He paled when he took in the torn flesh of Dean's upper arm.

"For God's sake Dean," he breathed, "You shouldn't have gotten yourself torn up like this. You coulda called me when you figured out it wasn't a ghost. I know I'm not a hunter but-"

"S'okay Kev," Dean interrupted, shaking his head. He didn't need anybody feeling guilty. "No big deal. Cas was here."

Kevin looked confused, then he caught sight of the journal still open on the desk beside Dean's head. He looked at Dean as if to say "Are you serious?" Dean just shrugged, and immediately cried out from the white hot pain that shot up his arm as a result. The last few hours proved to be too much, and Dean tried to give Kevin a reassuring grin before he finally blacked out.

Ok Dean. Get some rest. Tell Kevin to let me know how you're doing.

Hey Cas, it's Kevin, I made it. This dumb bastard has his arm tied up with his bootlaces and a ripped up t-shirt and he's still trying to scribble in your little love diary. I'm taking him back to the bunker. He'll be ok.

Thank you Kevin.

Castiel exhaled for the first time in what felt like days. He ignored Ambriel's disapproving look and Hardarniel's useless pity as he reached into his bag, feeling for the soft flannel. He'd memorized the touch of it, but the memory of the broad shoulders it had once covered faded with each passing day.

June 13, 2013: The Headquarters of the Men of Letters

Dean is drunk. Definitely. He is drunk but he doesn't feel bad about it because for once he's drinking because he feels good and not because he needs it to face the day. Sam is getting better. He still goes to bed at eight thirty but he's smiling and the circles under his eyes are going away, and Kevin's making progress on the angel tablet and Cas, well Cas is here. Cas is human, but he's here and at the moment he's laughing and Dean's laughing too because it turns out when he doesn't have the angel mojo to back him up Cas is a total lightweight. And that is hilarious.

"I have found-hic!- found another one!" Cas crows, holding up the unlabeled record like a prize in one hand and a nearly empty beer bottle in the other. Considering how anal the Men of letters had been when it came to organizing their occult library, they had been surprisingly lax when it came to their popular music collection. Dean and Cas, with the aid of a six pack and a half full bottle of JW, had decided this was unacceptable.

Dean pulls the current record off the player, haphazardly labeling it "Early Sinatra" before adding it to their newly organized stack. Cas stumbles up from the boxes they had unceremoniously dumped in the library, offering the mystery record to Dean, who places it on the phonograph and sets the needle on the edge. A slow, sultry trumpet starts up and for once it's Cas' eyes that light up in recognition. Alcohol has loosened up his stiff posture and Cas is swaying to the warm melody. He's leaning on Dean a little but Dean doesn't care because this is so right and normal and healthy and he doesn't want it to stop.

"I remember when this-this song was written," Castiel declares, "People think it was 1931, but I happen to know for a fact that Gus Khan wrote the lyrics in '29 and accidentally left them in his sock drawer for two years. Dean is almost crying he is laughing so hard and so he doesn't notice when Cas fists a hand in his shirt until he pulls.

A pair of rough lips hits his and Dean is surprised but it feels…it feels good. When a hand grips tight on the back of his neck it feels even better and Dean realizes his mouth is open and Cas' tongue isn't being shy. It's hot and wet and there's a voice in his head screaming yes yes take take! and Dean's not sure what he's doing but maybe if he doesn't fuck this up he can have this one small thing. As he goes to put his hands on Cas he realizes he's shaking his head and pulling away. Why is he pulling away?

"No." What are you doing? What the fuck are you doing? Dean ignores the very vocal objection from his subconscious as he pushes Cas away with a firm hand on his chest. "I'm sorry, Cas…but no."

"Oh," Cas' eyes are still glassy from drinking and his mouth is red and spit shiny, "I'm-I apologize- I didn't-"

"It's okay." Dean wishes his head were clearer right now, and that the record player wasn't still going. "It's okay. Just…just forget it. I've had one too many, I think I'm gonna go to bed. You okay?"

"Yes," Castiel mumbles, his face red with drink and embarrassment, "Yes of course. Goodnight Dean."

"'Night Cas."

Dean tries to sleep, and tries to ignore the taste of Cas that won't go away no matter how many times he gets up to brush his teeth.