A/N: *AC/DC's Back in Black gradually growing louder in the distance* I'm back a day early! I don't know how to begin thanking you all for the kind words. They really helped, and I'm grieving but feeling much better. I can't apologize enough for last weekend's short chapter and angsty author's note, but I'll begin with this good 3,000 words to make up for it.

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For Castiel, the next few days were happy.

He spent much of the time asleep, cocooned in every blanket he could get his hands on.

Dean had commented that he shared resemblance with a caterpillar.

Cas had disagreed.

His body was healing quickly in thanks to the extra sleep, but he knew it'd be scarred permanently. He was fond of his vessel, but it wasn't vanity that caused discomfort at this fact. It was the reminder. The thought that until he retrieved his grace, every glance in a mirror would trigger memories of being agonized and alone.

Dean companion seemed to muse on this too.

The evidence manifested in his face, a slight drawing of the lips and brow, an agitated twitch of the fingers when Dean changed his bandages. It was the way his eyes would go a little dark and distant when Castiel winced getting out of bed.

Overall, however, the hunter seemed to enjoy taking care of Cas. This came as a surprise. Dean did not exactly give off the vibes of the patient, touchy-feely type. Cas had expected that after the initial disinfection he would be left to himself.

But Dean tended to him eagerly, helping him with bandages, coaxing him to eat. He'd even gone to the staff and requested more covers, or so Castiel was assuming by the massive influx of blankets he found himself with. It was strange to him, almost a little coddling.

But it was becoming clear that Dean needed it. He needed to play the caretaker, the healer. It had to do with the guilt, Cas knew that much. But it was something more too. Dean missed Sam. He missed being relied on, looked up to, the protector. He missed being the big brother, and that was not an option anymore. But he could be the provider, and he would, because he didn't know what else to do.

They hadn't discussed the events of the apocalypse yet. Cas knew his friend was grieving. Of course mostly charismatic and repressive as always. But sometimes he would stare into the distance, guard let down, and there was such a sadness in his eyes.

So Castiel did not protest whatever over-attentiveness was directed at him. Dean treated him with fragility, as if he were a highly breakable good. Not overtly- he was too proud and too Dean for that, but it was evident in the little things. Odd things he would insist upon, overabundant favors and concerns. It was strange to him, as a soldier of heaven. He'd never been on the receiving end of anything like it. Initially he'd been uncomfortable with the doting, but once he realized that Dean needed it it to cope, he had begun to accept and even enjoy it. With his connection the to Host broken, he found himself taking a surprising relishment in any contact- from the mutual amiability he felt flowing between them sometimes, to the physical touch of Dean applying bandages and it's emotional impact.

Emotions.

Those were another difficult thing.

They were unpredictable at the best of times, and infuriating at best.

He'd felt them before. Anger at sinners. Love for his father. Things had become a little more complicated with the involvement of the Winchesters- enthrallment and frequent annoyance with Dean, an initial repulsion by Sam. Eventually all of these had turned into a fond admiration and loyalty towards both of them. But his sentiments always ran higher with Dean, ranging from affection to abject rage. There had been a complicated mix of them during Anna's fall from Heaven, and succinct betrayal when he'd discovered Heaven's corruption. One of the strongest feelings was after he accepted God had abandoned them. He'd felt such bitterness, such despair then.

But all of this paled in comparison to how strongly he felt now. Like with physical sensation, his emotions were a hundred times more intense, and harder to manage. He was annoyed over the smallest details, thrilled over little things and then sad for hours over less. He remembered the deep misery he'd experienced while still imprisoned, the selfish bitterness over being abandoned. To his horror that feeling, that inexplicable desire for Dean to care about him, resided and was sated whenever Dean expressed his concern.

Castiel was appalled with himself, and did the best to ignore it. But it was there. A buried but still thrilling little tug of contentment whenever Dean asked if he felt better, or needed another pill. Some horrid, human, corner of him- the same one which that secretly hoped Dean would come for him- whispering "I was right."

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"So I was driving yesterday, and I found a burger joint a few miles off." Stated Dean.

"And?"

"And I was thinking we should go there tomorrow."

"Are you sure that's wise?"

"Well, you're eating now aren't you?"

Castiel was eating. After three days, his digestive track was beginning to return to normal, remembering how to deal with food. Cereal, though, was something he would never learn to deal with. Dean had been horrified yesterday to discover the man eating it without milk, launching into a lecture on the proper consumption of breakfast foods like it was canonical lore.

"Rule number one of being a human Cas, cereal goes with milk!"

"I thought rule number one was not to listen to any music made after the year nineteen-eighty."

"No, that's rule number two."

"What about 'don't drop the soap'?"

"That's only if we end up in prison, which is unlikely since I haven't stolen any credit cards lately."

"But y-"

"No buts, cereal goes with milk. No exceptions."

So here he was, drenching grain-based flakes in dairy when it would of made more sense to just have a glass of milk on the side, and trying to explain to Dean why going out to dine was a bad idea.

"It's not my ability to eat I am concerned about. Will we not draw attention to ourselves?"

"What, do you mean the crosses? They're just faint lines now. You have to peer to see em, which won't be an issue unless you decide to do your weird staring thing."

"I mean you."

The incisions spanning Dean's arms were deeper than most of Cas's, and made over places that would bleed the most. They had been made not to hurt, but to kill- slowly. The hunter mostly ignored them after making sure they weren't infected, walking around in a t-shirt as if they didn't exist. But Castiel was very aware of them, and so would the general public be.

"Whatever man, I'll throw on a jacket. Come on, it'll be fun. You love burgers."

"Jimmy loved burgers."

"Please, you wolf down buffalo jerky like a dog. You're a meat-eater, just like me."

"I suppose I do have some residual carnivorous tendencies."

"Awesome then, we'll be eating hamburgers tomorrow night."

"Very well."

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Dean was right.

Hamburgers were delicious.

There was something impeccable in the combination of flavors.

"I must confess, you were correct in insisting upon this venture." Admitted Cas.

His friend smirked and stretched from his chair at the dinner satisfactorily. "I'm always correct."

"I can recall a few incidents in which you were not."

The smirk didn't waver. "That's because your memory is going wonky."

"I told you, I'm not certain of that." Castiel emended, glaring at Dean. He didn't like the thought of losing valuable knowledge. Information was all he had to offer, with his powers gone.

More seriously, Dean asked: "Have you noticed yourself blanking out at all?"

"No. I believe this body's brain will adapt to the extra information, given time."

"Let's hope." He dug into Cas's fries, having finished his own food fifteen minutes ago.

"You have the appetite of a adolescent male." Commented Cas, amused.

"I'm a warrior! I need my calories."

"That is clear."

They'd arrived at the little restaurant half an hour before, both hungry and highly anticipating the change from boring organic produce. But Castiel knew it wasn't just appetite that spurred Dean's insistence to go there. The hunter was restless. It'd been four days since they'd arrived and hedidn't like to stay in one place. Cas's limp was all but gone and while the cuts were still pretty bad, he could heal on the road. Dean wouldn't outright ask to leave yet, but he knew it was coming. Castiel could tell in the way the man drummed his fingers endlessly against the wall of their room, in how exuberant he'd been in the car ride to the diner, happy to be on the move.

"When are you going to be finished?" Grumped Dean, reaching in for another handful of french fries.

Cas studied his burger, which still had a quarter left. "Ten minutes, perhaps."

The other man groaned in response. "Old Cas would of eaten seven of those by now."

"If by 'Old Cas' you mean when I was possessed by one of the Horsemen, your statement is incorrect. I would of eaten around twenty."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Well hurry up, the waitresses around here are boring."

Castiel had watched his friend attempt to coquette their server relentlessly, but complained she brushed him off each time. Cas didn't see how. The waitress seemed friendly enough, smiling amiably while he stumbled through his order. "I'm not going to finish eating."

"Awesome." Dean took his plate without hesitation, diving in on what hadn't been consumed. Again, Castiel marveled at his appetite. The burger and fries vanished in the space of two minutes.

"Can I get you the check, sweetie?" Came a sugary voice, and Cas ducked his head, assuming the newly appeared waitress was speaking to his companion. It was wordlessly agreed that Dean was in charge of social interactions.

When no further dialogue was spoken, Castiel looked up and discovered the woman was addressing him. "Uhh..." He floundered, surprised, and glanced at Dean. His friend seemed sour about something, refusing to make eye contact. Cas realized he was on his own, and swallowed. "Yes, please."

She smiled, ruby-lipstick lips curving upwards kindly. "I'll get that right away. Was your meal okay?"

"It was exceedingly palatable." Said Cas a little stiffly, and for some reason she giggled.

"You're funny."

"Thank you." He replied. Her behavior was confusing, but amicable.

"I'll go get that check." She winked, and walked off with a sway in her hips.

"That woman is kind." Commented Cas. "But I wonder why she winked."

Dean buried his face in his hands, muttering: "Dude..."

"To my understanding a wink is an acknowledgement of a secret shared between two individuals. It's odd then that she would do so when I've never met her before."

The hunter groaned. "Are you kidding me?"

"No."

"She was flirting with you."

Cas frowned. "How so?"

"Dude, it was written all over!" Dean spluttered. "From her sickening little nick names to her tacky red lipstick!"

"It is common for adult or adolescent women to wear cosmetics."

"Even you can't be that oblivious, she was throwing herself r-" The statement cut off abruptly as the woman returned, bearing the check in her hand.

"Here you are, hon."

"Thank you."

She giggled once more. "You're a gentleman, but so shy!" Castiel opened his mouth to respond but couldn't think of anything to say to that. After an awkward second she continued. "Don't worry though, it's cute. Anything else I can get you?" She enquired sweetly.

"No thanks, sweetheart." Interjected Dean, in a tone that even Castiel could identify as sarcasm. The waitress seemed a little stung, putting down the check and leaving without another word.

"That was rude." Commented Cas neutrally, as the hunter dug bitterly into his wallet.

"That was necessary. She was about to crawl into your pants."

The brunette frowned at this imagery. "I think you're being somewhat paranoid Dean, even if-"

He was cut off by a loud: "Aha!"

The underside of the bill was suddenly shoved in his face. On it was a post-it note with a number scrawled alongside a little cartoon flower.

"Proof!" Shouted Dean.

Castiel was staring confusedly at the digits. "I do not understand."

"It's her number! She might as well of put up a 'vacancy' sign up over her bed!"

A blank stare.

"Jesus, do I have to spell it out for you? Sex, Cas! She wanted you to call her so you could have sex!"

A slightly dropped jaw.

"Oh."

"Yeah!"

"So when she..."

"Yeah!"

The walk out to the car was spent in silence, Dean fuming and Cas trying to piece together the odd puzzle that was human customs. He was dumbfounded, and a little embarrassed by his ignorance during the interaction. But it did not explain Dean's anger. He mused on this, gathering up the courage to ask while Dean put his keys in the ignition. "So you're jealous because she was courting me and ignoring you?"

The hunter snorted as he pulled out of the parking lot. "'Courting' is a weird way of putting it. And I don't get jealous! I'm Dean Winchester! Girls get jealous when I smile at their friends!"

Castiel realized that his friend's anger was only superficial, and became amused. "You were jealous."

"Fine, maybe a little. Guess I've been off the game for too long... have I lost my touch?" Dean sounded comically worried at this prospect. "I mean, if you were a girl, you'd throw yourself at me, right Cas?"

"I am neither female or male."

"Yeah, yeah, 'indifferent to gender' my ass, you're a dude."

"I suppose now that I am affected by this vessel's testosterone levels." In truth he hadn't noticed any effects beyond his new unpredictable emotional state.

"Don't want to hear about it."

They lapsed into comfortable silence for a few minutes, and then Dean muttered something so quietly that Cas could barely hear it.

"Must be your goddam hair."

"What?"

"Your hair!" Exclaimed Dean. "It's all..." He gestured in a wild, vague motion. "Like that! Girls love it. It's not fair."

Castiel touched his hair self-consciously. The previous inhabitant of this body had kept it combed neatly down, but he had put forth no such measures. "The waitress's attractions towards me offends you?"

"It's just a blow to the ego, that's all. I mean, come on. Maybe if I were sitting next to Brad Pitt or something, but she seriously chose you over me?"

Cas processed this. "You're implying I'm unattractive?"

"No!" Shouted Dean, and then paused, seeming sheepish over his response. "It's just, I'm supposed to be the lady's man. And you're supposed to be the chess club guy. You couldn't get laid at a brothel for Christ's sake!"

Cas got the impression he was supposed to be ashamed. "Sorry?" He said, uncertainly.

Dean looked over at him and suddenly laughed. The ex-angel wasn't exactly sure why, but he could see affection in his eyes, and that was enough. "Nah, don't worry about it. You got a girl's number in less than ten words. Good for you, man. I'm just grouchy because living with Lisa sort of meant getting laid every night. Guess I'm going through withdrawal."

This information was perhaps a little unnecessary for Castiel, but it sparked questions he'd been meaning to ask. "Lisa was the woman you were living with, correct?"

The hunter's eyes grew a little distant, not having meant to bring her up. "Yeah."

"Does... does she know where you are?" Inquired Cas, tone somewhat precarious. Their discussions had never swayed into this area, and he didn't want to upset his companion seriously.

Dean looked down. He did not want to have this conversation, but it needed to be had. "She knows. I'm gone for something important. She was there when I got the text. You don't exactly shatter a bottle of maple syrup over a business call."

Cas processed this ins silence. The horrible part in him felt a wave of warmth that Dean might react so strongly to his imprisonment. "But she does not know what it is? Where you are?"

"No. She doesn't even know who you are. I didn't really have the time to explain."

"Thank you." He suddenly said. He'd said the words to him before, but a thousand repetitions couldn't convey their full magnitude.

"For the meal? Thank me by learning to count cards." Evaded Dean.

"No." Insisted Castiel, sternly. "For saving me. You had a life, and you put it aside."

The hunter shifted uncomfortably. "Don't thank me Cas. Please don't. I've got so much I owe you for. You pulled me from Hell, man."

He scratched at the back of his neck before continuing. "Truth is, I can't stay with Lisa. If I do she'll just end up as another footnote in the Tragic Losses of Dean Winchester. Her and Ben. Yeah, flirting with other women is just being a douche bag, but kids, a house, apple pie?" Quietly he added: "Happiness? That stuff isn't for me. Sammy, maybe. And I tried it for him. But I belong on the road."

It was the most Dean had admit about himself in a long time. They both sat in silence for a minute, the ramifications of the words sinking in.

And then Cas was staring at the other man, in the long, socially unacceptable way that he normally would of been reprimanded for. But somehow that didn't seem relevant right now.

"Dean." He said, and the hunter took his gaze off the road to meet the intense stare of his friend.

"You deserve to be happy."

And the statement was so sincere that just in that moment, Dean believed it.

A/N: You know what really helps to make you happy when you're sad? Homerotic fluff. Yup. I love Sam and Dean and Cas and Destiel and I love you guys and I love that I found a place that I can write about what I love to people who I love because they love the same thing that I love and LET'S ALL JUST HAVE A GROUP HUG!