Later that night, Sam came into Dean's room.

"You ok, Dean?" He asks, sitting on the edge of Dean's bed. "Mom says you're sulking."

"Ya, I'm not sulking, I do not sulk, Sammy."

"You've been in her all day."

"So, what's your point?" Dean glares at him.

"Just seems like sulking to me." He shrugs.

"What did you need, Sammy?"

"I'm making sure you're still alive in here."

"Yep, still breathing so…"

"Cas still pissed off?" Sam asks carefully.

Dean doesn't respond, just continues to lie there flipping through his car magazine.

"It'll work out, man." Sam smiles at him.

"Yep."

"Oh," he adds rising from the bed. "You might want to think about moving your bed to the other side of the room."

"Why?" Dean asks in confusion.

"Because your head board makes a lot of noise, jerk." Sam says shrugging as he leaves the room.

"Oh," Dean smirks, idly wondering if he just scarred is little brother for life. "Bitch," he shakes his head.

Finally Tuesday rolls around and Dean goes to work. He works meticulously and efficiently, not speaking more than he has to, just enough to get the job done. John keeping a wary eye on him, most likely at his mother's request, but he pretends not to notice. This will work out, is all he keeps telling himself.

His routine of waking up, working, going home, shower, rinse and repeat; continues for a couple more days. Until it is loudly interrupted, that is, at 3:25 Am on a rainy Thursday morning by urgent pounding on the front door. Sam was at a friend's house, but it wasn't like him to come home in the middle of the night.

Dean wakes up and heads to the look over the banister on the landing, watching as his father opens the door cautiously his mother a few feet behind him. The door swings to reveal Castiel, soaking wet and panting like he just ran ten miles, his blue eyes wide in shock.

"My apologies for the hour," Cas huffs, his voice pitched very low. "I just didn't know where to go."

"Castiel?" Mary asks pushing John to the side, worry crossing her features as she takes in Castiel's state.

His tee shirt is ripped and his undershirt is stained with red. Mary reaches for him as he rushes in gripping her in a tight embrace his head on her shoulder as he squeezes his eyes shut. John looks out into the night, before closing and locking the door.

She shoots her husband a look over Castiel's shoulder, quietly patting his back. "Whose blood is that sweetie?" She asks, pulling back and holding him at arm's length to access his face.

"Rachel," He says flatly, his voice dead. "She's gone." Cas blinks.

"Dean get down here, now!" John shouts, as Dean rushes down the stairs. "You know anything about this?" He asks when Dean appears, Mary leading Castiel into the kitchen.

"No idea," Dean tells him as he stares at Castiel.

"I should not have come here," Cas whispers, "I'll go, I'm sorry for disturbing you." He moves to go towards the door.

"You aren't going anywhere, son." John tells him sternly as he blocks his path.

Castiel nods silently, faltering on his feet as Dean rushes forward catching him as he falls to the floor.

"Cas, what's going on?" Dean pushes the wet strands of hair off his face trying to get him to look at him. Castiel is trembling and his eyes wide, like a deer in the head lights as the adrenalin courses through his body.

"We need to get him to the hospital," Mary tells John with concern. "I think he's in shock."

Dean feels Cas's grip tighten on his arm as his brow creases.

"No, mom. He doesn't like hospitals," He tells her.

"Dean," his mother starts pursing her lips before conceding.

Castiel locks eyes with Dean as he starts to talk, "I'm sorry Dean, I, Rachel is dead," He whispers Dean nodding as he listens intently to man. "I thought I could handle it, but Crowley, and I just ran from the hospital after," He shakes his head his eyes bright with unshed tears. "I didn't want to bring you into this," he rasps.

"It's ok," Dean tries to soothe him, somewhat awkwardly. "You can explain later," he nods.

"Alright," Mary interrupts. "Go get him cleaned up, Dean, and if he needs any patching come get me."

Dean nods, dragging Cas to his feet carefully.

"See what you can get out of him," John instructs nodding at him. "And he's sleeping on the couch this time."

"Yes sir," Dean states, making his way up the stairs with Castiel's shaking frame.

He gets him to the bathroom and starts the hot water before Dean begins to peel the shorter man's soiled clothes from his frigid skin. He directs him under the spray stepping in behind him, not bothering to remove the boxers he was sleeping in as he washed and rinsed the blood off Cas.

The whole time, Castiel just stood there unblinking; Dean placing a reassuring kiss to his shoulder while leaning forward to shut off the water. He wraps the towel around Cas's waist and sits him down on the closed lid of the toilet before going to get him mom.

Mary comes in with the first aid kid, her white night gown stained from Cas's clothes. She kneels in front of him, Dean leaning on the door way watching on. The first thing she does is check him over for any and all wounds; she pushes the hair of Castiel's forehead, revealing a small gash near his eyebrow.

Mary continues her way down curiously taking in the bite mark, Dean turning red with embarrassment and guilt as his mother shoots him a look. There's another scratch on his shoulder and his ribs are probably bruised again. She takes a look at his hands, finding what looks like rope burns on his wrists and cuts and scrapes along his knuckles, as if he was fighting.

Dean's mom wets a wash cloth with the peroxide before cleaning each of the wounds; she places a butterfly bandage on the one on his forehead as well as the one on his shoulder. Castiel just sits there nonresponsive, only slightly wincing when the peroxide makes contact. Mary takes care of his hands and puts some kind of ointment on his wrist, before standing up.

"He should be fine," She whispers to Dean. "Why don't you get him down stairs before your father has a heart attack," Mary smiles leaving the room.

Dean gets Cas into a pair of sleep pants and carefully takes him down to the couch. He can faintly hear his parent's voices from the kitchen as he deposits Castiel down on the sofa with a blanket before positioning himself behind him, Cas's head resting on Dean's chest.

"Did you find out what happened?" Dean her John asks.

"I'm sure he'll tell us in the morning, but it's none of our business."

"Jesus, Mar, the kid looks like he went ten rounds with a brick wall, and then shows up at our door," He tries to keep his voice down. "I think we deserve to know what's going on."

"Castiel is obviously not able to tell us right now and I won't have you pressing him." Mary tells him frankly.

"One way or the other, we better get answers." John huffs.

Dean knows exactly how his dad feels, because what the fuck. He hadn't seen Cas since Sunday and now this. He glances down to see that Cas is starting to drift off a little, his breath evening out against him. Rachel was dead, he replays what he heard Castiel tell him, his mind trying to piece something together. He wasn't going to get any sleep tonight.

Merci ami... ;)review(;