A.N. I'm so sorry I've been gone! College started and I haven't really had time to write. I started this one a long time ago but I just couldn't sit down and finish it. And I didn't want to give you guys a short chapter, but this is all I could get out for this one.

Warnings: Fluff for Dean and Mel. It's their special weird relationship, but don't worry, Dean and Cas will have lots of moments in the next chapter. In the meantime though, have some Sam and Cas bonding :)

Dean stood for what felt like too long at the door, eyes focused on the sleeping angel in the bed. The room was deadly silent save for the shallow breathing coming from Miel's mouth.

If seeing Castiel stagger around the junkyard trying to find him had made guilt claw at him from the inside out, watching Mel's labored breathing made shame corrode him to his core.

How could he have stayed away for so long?

Heaving a tired sigh, he thought of what to say and how to wake the angel, since his arrival didn't seem to have disturbed her fitful sleep. Taking careful steps towards the bed, Dean found his eyes measuring every breath that left her lips, every rise and fall of her chest. Standing so close to her, Dean could feel the sadness that was slowly killing her from the inside. The worry. It made his grace shiver in his chest, and he blinked rapidly towards the ceiling before glancing away towards the armchair by the bed.

"Sleep watching…" A quiet voice made his eyes snap back to the still figure on the bed. Feverish blue meet green through the narrow slits of her eyes, and Dean's heart clenched at the warmth in the tired orbs staring back at him. "...Creepy."

"I hear it's all the rage among angels these days," he countered, his voice not as steady as he would have liked it to be.

Her lips quirked up in a tiny smile, and Dean tried to smile back before sitting carefully on the edge of the mattress.

"You're not looking too good," he croaked needlessly, his forced smile dying before ever truly making it to his lips.

Miel's eyes closed briefly, a small breath of a chuckle stuck in her chest, before blearily opening to look at him again.

"Missed you," she said, making Dean look away in shame. A small clammy hand touched his in a whisper of a caress. "You've been gone." Her clouded eyes asked the question that she couldn't seem to get out.

"Yeah, I've—" he bit his lip, "I've been a selfish dick, running away," he met her eyes again, "From you." He paused, swallowing the knot in his throat, "From Cas…"

"Misses you…too," she whispered, her pale fingers squeezing his hand weakly. Dean looked down at them and eased their hands into a better hold. "Feel it."

Dean nodded, "I know." He gave her a shaky smile, "Stupid idiot spent God knows how long out in the junkyard trying to find me."

She smiled, but remained silent this time. And Dean thought back to the desperation in Cas' voice when he'd begged him to see Miel and help her heal. And that was exactly what he was going to do. He'd messed up enough as it was.

"He thinks my little scene is one of the reasons why you're not getting better."

A small breath that could have been a laugh as much as a sob left her lips, and Dean tightened his hold on her hand.

"I'm not leaving again, Mel." He promised, "I'm staying. I'll talk to Cas; I'll help him adjust." She smiled at him with such sad pride that it made him search for anything else he could promise her, "I'll even kick Gabe and Balthazar's asses into gear so they come see you more often," She laughed then, quietly, weakly, but genuinely. "I'll do anything, Mel." He paused, "Ramiel." He begged, "You don't have to worry about the others, I'll take care of them, you just concentrate on getting better, okay?"

Because from the moment he'd entered the room, Dean could tell what was really keeping the young angel down.

It was worry.

Worry that Cas wasn't adapting well to his new humanity and blindness. Worry that Gabriel and Balthazar were working themselves to exhaustion upstairs. Worry that Elijah wasn't laughing and setting pranks like he should be doing. Worry that Sam would worry himself sick.

Worry that Dean would drown in his own self-induced guilt.

"You don't have to worry anymore," he assured her, watching as she tried to blink away tears that threatened to overwhelm her. "I'll take care of them now, Mel, it's okay."

Her shoulders were shaking in her attempt to keep quiet, but Dean could see her grace already lighting up as her load was put on someone else's shoulders. Her free hand searched weakly for him, and Dean immediately moved closer and lied down next to her. Putting his arm around her, he gently guided her close to him, whispering reassurances as she burrowed her face into his shoulder and cried. Her sobs dripped with unimaginable sorrow that made Dean's heart clench inside his ribcage.

Feeling the fondness that had invaded his soul since the first day he'd met her swell in response to her sadness, Dean placed his chin on her blond hair and covered her trembling frame with his wing.

Sam barged inside the living room to find Cas sitting alone on the sofa, trench coat still on and a blanket around his shoulders.

"Jesus," he muttered before quickly making his way to the angel, "What were you thinking, Cas? It's freezing out there, that trench coat barely keeps you warm."

Castiel 's eyes turned in his general direction, a soft sheepish smile on his face, "Sorry, Sam."

The young hunter sighed. He doubted the former angel was really sorry, and his little excursion out in the cold had finally gotten Dean back in the house, so he should really be grateful that the man had decided not to take Dean's crap anymore. "It's okay, Cas. It's just…you can get sick now. You need to think about these things."

A flash of sorrow in Cas' eyes made him wish he hadn't said anything. It would take some time for Cas to get used to his human vulnerability, and rubbing it in his face wouldn't help. But still, he couldn't go out in 10-degree weather with just that old trench coat.

"Look," he tried, softening his voice to the one he used when talking to victims in their hunts. Running a hand through his hair, he sat down next to the angel—and truly, Sam knew he would never be able to think of Cas as anything but. "It's probably time we got you your own clothes anyway," he tried to cheer him up a bit, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder, "We'll get you some decent coats, scarves, gloves...all the paraphernalia and we'll go out more often, alright?" Blue eyes focused on the sound of his voice, looking almost directly at his lips, "I know you're probably getting tired of being locked up in the house."

A smile quirked Cas' lips upwards, "Thank you, Sam." He said simply but with such genuine gratitude that Sam felt himself smile back.

"No problem, man." Just as he was going to suggest Cas took the coat off, he felt a shiver from the man's shoulders and frowned. Looking down at Cas' hands, he took one of them in his and made a face, "You're still freezing. Let me get you some more blankets and something warm, kay?" he offered, not really awaiting an answer as he stood from the sofa and went to get some more blankets.

Castiel's eyes were following his footsteps as he walked back in the room, a look of light amusement in their blue depths as he helped him out of his trench coat and proceeded to wrap him up in about three or four blankets.

The way Cas let himself be moved around and taken care of reminded him of a small child, and a fond smile tugged on the corner of Sam's lips as wide blue eyes followed every sound he made with truly childlike trust.

Once he was sure Cas was starting to warm up, he helped the angel—it would take some time before he got used to calling Cas human—to his feet and towards the kitchen, "Come on, let me make you some coffee or some chocolate maybe. Gabriel seems to like the sweet stuff better." There was a slightly secretive smile on Cas' lips that made him tilt his head a bit, but he simply put his hand on Cas' back and led him out of the living room, "Have you ever tried hot chocolate before, Cas?"

"No, I haven't. But Elijah and Gabriel seem very fond of it." He replied with one of his small smiles.

"I'm thinking it might be an angel thing," Sam mused, "You guys have a pretty big sweet tooth." Sam only realized his mistake after he'd said the last word, and he looked back at Cas to apologize only to see him nod, unaffected.

"It seems that way, yes."

Letting out a quiet sigh of relief, Sam stood close to Castiel as he freed one hand from the bundle of blankets wrapped around him to trace the tabletop and find a chair to sit on. Once he was seated, Sam went to the cabinets and took out a couple of mugs. Might as well make some hot chocolate for himself, it had been years since the last time he'd had any.

"How about you then, Cas?" he asked as he set out to not destroy the kitchen. It had always been Dean who'd made chocolate for him when they were younger. "Have you tried any sweets you like?"

"I like pie." Cas answered, a quiet but childlike wonder in his voice that made Sam laugh. If only Dean could hear him now, he'd probably be congratulating Cas for his great taste.

Opening a cabinet, Sam barely had enough to time to keep the boxes of powdered cocoa from falling out, and he let out a surprised yelp as he tried to push them all back in.

"Sam?" Cas asked from his chair, a small frown on his brow.

"I'm okay," Sam breathed out a chuckle, taking out one of the boxes and setting it on the counter. "I think Gabe and Eli took it upon themselves to stock Bobby's kitchen with what they like." He grinned.

A quiet chuckle from Cas' direction made something lighten up in Sam's chest. Worry that the fallen angel would at any given moment break down had plagued his mind since they'd made it back home. Needless to say, any smile or laugh he could get out of Cas did wonders to sooth his concerns.

As he prepared the cocoa, Sam stared in awe as what had appeared to be pretty typical powdered chocolate solution that came in many cheap hotels become a rich thick chocolate that Sam imagined was worthy of the best places in Europe. He found himself lost in the sweet aroma, old dreams of traveling around the world coming back to him like a lazy memory.

He had to give it to Gabriel. He didn't settle for the cheap stuff.

Despite the authentic smell and texture of the chocolate, it was done surprisingly fast, which Sam attributed to Gabriel's dislike for waiting for his treats. Pouring the cocoa in two mugs, he made his way back to the table and placed one cup in front of Cas before settling down across from him.

Castiel took a slow breath, inhaling the sweet smell, and his eyes closed briefly, obviously liking it so far. Sam watched closely as tentative hands touched the mug before wrapping themselves around it, and Cas practically deflated as warmth seeped back into him.

Tilting his head, Cas slowly brought the mug to his lips, hesitating before taking a small sip. Sam grinned as his friend's blue eyes widened in delight at the taste that invaded his mouth. A smile, wide and genuine spread on Cas' face, unlike any he'd seen before, and it made Sam's grin widen even more.

"I like chocolate." He declared, and something in the finality of his voice made Sam laugh. He could see why Dean had found so much amusement in making their friend try new things.

"Glad to hear that," he chuckled, finally allowing himself to take a sip of his own mug.

Damn that was some good chocolate! He'd have to convince Gabriel to get some more for them; Dean would love this.

Castiel turned all his attention to his new favorite beverage, and they both settled into a comfortable silence. After a moment, Sam noticed that Cas had turned blind eyes up towards him.

"What? Done already?" he teased.

Cas' eyes softened, and Sam suddenly felt like a child. He'd heard Dean complain about the angels' tendency to do that to him, and couldn't help but stare at the former angel in wonder.

"Cas?"

"You're a good man, Sam." The hunter's eyes widened slightly, and he felt his heart freeze for a moment. "Your soul is still pure." Castiel assured him with a wisdom that could only come from an angel, with the certainty of someone who had seen inside him to his deepest core. Cas' eyes saddened as he added quietly, "I know you've been doubting it." Sam looked down, knowing it was true and feeling ashamed for it. But while Dean had been turned into an archangel that was the reflection of Michael; God's most loyal servant. Sam had gotten his power from his twisted link to Lucifer. Satan. The Devil.

"You shouldn't." Castiel stated firmly, driving Sam to look at him with hesitant hope. "Your new nature doesn't affect the goodness inside of you, Sam. In fact, the amount of love and kindness that remains despite the darkness your soul has been exposed to is astonishing."

Sam felt himself flush, knowing that Dean would have long ago mocked this as a chick-flick moment. But he couldn't deny that hearing the angel say this was like finally removing the thorn that had been stuck on his side since he'd given into Ruby's deception. Since he'd found out what Azazel had done to him. This was his redemption.

Finding it hard to speak, Sam swallowed the knot in his throat to look at the former angel, wondering if Cas knew how much he'd needed to hear those words, and just how grateful he was to have finally received them.

"Thank you."

Castiel merely smiled at him. That new smile that was so human and yet so like the friend he'd found in Castiel long ago. The former angel then went back to his chocolate like he hadn't just made years' worth of self-doubt and shame disappear with a few words. Sam smiled to himself and shook his head before turning his attention back to his own mug.

"He's not dealing with it." Miel whispered, and Dean blinked in confusion, glancing down at her as she breathed quietly into the crook of his neck.

"Who?"

"Cas." It might have been the first time he'd heard her use the ang—Castiel's nickname.

"You can tell?" he asked gently. If he was honest with himself, Dean had been too ashamed of having spent so long away to take a really good look at Cas' soul.

"His soul is…new." She sighed. She sounded better than she had an hour ago already, something that allowed Dean to breathe more easily. "Almost like a child's." And the image of a toddler with unruly black hair and big blue eyes inevitably took over his mind. "He can mask his face…although not as well as before." She paused to take a breath, "But not his soul." Dean frowned worriedly, cursing himself for not paying attention, "He hasn't learned how…yet."

"You know I'll do anything to help him, right?" he shifted slightly, securing his hold and placing his chin on he top of her blond hair.

"I know." He could hear the smile in her voice, "But I'm not sure he realizes…what a toll this is taking on him."

"You think he'll let me in?" he asked suddenly, the thought that maybe Cas won't allow him to get close enough to help him making his grace clench with worry.

"He's probably…already forgiven you, Dean." She replied, and Dean knew this had been a cause of frustration for her before they met.

"Maybe he shouldn't." The amount of times Cas had forgiven his behavior towards him was something Dean would never understand. Even Sam, who while in the end always came around, had a limit to how much of his dick-moods he could stand. But Cas had never seemed to be too bothered by it, except on the few occasions when Dean's harsh words had actually caught him by surprise, enough that he'd managed to catch a flinch or a flash of hurt in the angel's eyes. Maybe Dean had taken advantage of that and turned his frustrations on Cas more often than he should have.

"Maybe." Mel agreed quietly, and Dean had to wonder what it must have been like for her to watch from afar as her brother's sacrifices went by with barely any appreciation from his charge.

"Did you ever…" he paused, not knowing if he had any right to ask this. But Mel's grace was reaching towards his in askance, and her head tilted slightly upwards so that she could look at him, "Did you ever try to help him? Did you think about joining him?"

Miel didn't say anything for a long time, her blue eyes examining his carefully before she sighed sadly and burrowed against his shoulder again. "He came to talk to me," she said quietly, "Before he decided to help you."

Dean remembered that moment. He'd practically given the angel an ultimatum and slammed the door in his face at the first hint of hesitation. He winced at how insensitive he'd been. Decisions like that had always been a given to him, he never had to think between saving people or stepping back. But he'd forgotten that Castiel's superiors were also his family, and the fact that he'd thrown it in his face that he couldn't choose immediately between complete strangers that weren't even of the same species as him and the siblings he'd known his entire existence, when Dean knew that he himself would have struggled at the mere thought of choosing someone else over Sam, made him curse the way he'd practically guilt-tripped the angel into helping him.

To say Dean had been surprised when the angel that had pleaded for him to understand before disappearing had come back with a look of fierce determination for his cause was to put it mildly.

"What did he say?" he asked, wondering if Mel had been the one to finally convince Cas to join their side.

"He explained to me what Zachariah was planning." She hadn't known. Of course she hadn't, how could she when Cas had been taken away before he could tell him after he himself had found out? "I was…" she let out a breath of laughter, "Well, I was angry." Dean tightened his hold on her, pressing his cheek against her hair, "They'd told us that they were working to protect the seals against the demons and—" she shook her head, "Castiel had been so worried." Dean frowned, "He kept coming to see me to tell me about their process, and it seemed like the demons were always two steps ahead of us. Castiel didn't understand how that could happen," she sighed, "And honestly, I didn't either."

Dean remembered how sure Cas had always seemed, how intimidating his confidence in their success over Hell and the orders that seemed to come from nowhere had been.

"He told me about you, you know?" He could hear the mix of sadness and amusement in her voice and tried to coax her grace into lighting up again with his own. He couldn't let her get sad, not when she was already making progress.

"I'm sure he didn't say a lot of nice things," he guessed with a small grin. He'd made a point out of being difficult back when they'd first met.

She laughed quietly, "Not very many, no," he chuckled, "At least after he first met you. He kept telling me how frustrating you were." Dean grinned.

"I'm good at that." He boasted, making her giggle.

"You really are." She sighed, "Then the complaints came less frequently and instead came the questions." Dean frowned, "You were so confusing, you were like a walking paradox. The Righteous Man, so full of anger and mockery and disrespect," he huffed, "And yet…your soul bursting with such fierce love for your brother and a truly innate and genuine desire to save others. People you hadn't even met." Dean fidgeted slightly; uncomfortable at the way she was describing him.

"Believe it or not," she interrupted his discomfort, "I actually wanted to meet you."

He chuckled, "Really? I thought I was an inconsiderate dick."

"You are." She assured him, pulling a laugh out of him, "But that's only one side of you. And you'd gotten to Castiel in a way that no one had in a long time." Her voice took an air of nostalgia, "He'd become very quiet, over the centuries." She mused, "After Gabriel left, there was no one to stop the brunt of Raphael's discipline, and he was always so much more strict with Castiel than the rest of us. He became even more of a soldier than what was expected of the others. Following orders without question or thought." There was anger in her grace. At Raphael, at Zachariah. "But then he met you," Her wings brushed against his, "And it was like the curiosity and the questions and the warmth had all come back."

She paused, "So I guess I should thank you for that."

Dean smiled sadly, "Glad I got something right." They stayed quiet for a moment, "What did you say to him? When he came to see you before he helped me."

"He was really hurt and torn by what you'd said to him," he winced slightly at the accusation in her voice, "But I realized then that your opinion mattered a lot to him," Dean had realized that, on more than one occasion, and couldn't help but to think he wasn't worthy of it, and that he shouldn't have used it to his advantage so many times, "And that he really did agree with your cause." She heaved a breath, "So I told him that he should do what he thought was right. Regardless of what his orders were. And that if he decided to help you I would support him as much as I could." She curled up closer to him, muttering quietly, "Which wasn't much."

He brushed her wings, "It was."

She burrowed closer to his side. Dean still couldn't understand how she could love him so much when it was clear that he'd hurt Cas—and by extension her—so much over the few years that he'd come to know his ang—friend.

"Why don't you hate me?" he asked quietly. She looked up then, leaning on one of her elbow—and Dean was so glad that she was already strong enough to do that, "I mean after everything Cas went through because of me. I've hurt him, Mel. I've hurt him so many times and he never really left me. I don't deserve that."

"You know, I think I know why he loves you," and Dean couldn't help but glance away from her watchful eyes at that word. That word. "Despite everything you've done to help people. To save the world." She smiled sadly, "You still don't think you deserve to be saved."

The familiar words brought him back to that night. The night when Cas walked into his life in a rain of sparks and thunder and looked right into him. Read him like no one had done in years. With just one look. And Cas just knew him. And Dean had to smile at the thought that someone who had read the part of himself that he'd always tried so hard to hide so easily could at the same time be so confused by everything else he did or said.

"That's cheating, you know." He poked her side, making her smile widen. It still amazed Dean how she could remind him so much of his mother and at the same time behave like a little girl. This had to be one of the weirdest relationships he'd ever had. How can someone take the role of your mother and your little sister at the same time? The same way an angel could be his best friend, his younger and older brother at the same time, he supposed. And Dean wasn't even sure he could really define his relationship with Cas yet.

So I guess that means Cas gets first place for weirdest friend.

A few hours later, Dean left a peacefully sleeping Miel huddled under her blankets and flew quietly back to the living room.

The sight that greeted him there made him press a fist to his mouth to suppress his laughter.

Sam was passed out on the couch—it looked like all that staying awake had finally taken its toll—, but that wasn't what took him by surprise. And, on hindsight it sort of made sense that Sam would be so…cuddly? After the blind ex-angel had ventured out of the house while he slept. The big moose was practically latched onto Castiel like a kid with his teddy bear. Needless to say Dean gone to the rescue and untangled his friend by now, but Castiel seemed to be sleeping peacefully despite the breach of his personal space.

Not that Cas had ever cared about that kind of stuff.

A presence to his right made him turn away from the cute scene—I mean, come on. Even he could admit that it was hilariously adorable—to look at Bobby, who was leaning against the door frame with the same amused yet fond expression Dean knew was on his own face. With a nod towards the kitchen, Bobby motioned him away from the sleeping pair, and Dean zapped there to avoid waking them up. Because it wasn't like he'd taken a liking to this flying around thing. Nope.

Bobby caught him with a knowing look that made Dean smile sheepishly, "You're getting lazy, boy." He teased.

"Oh, like you wouldn't do it." Dean scoffed. Because, really. Who wouldn't teleport everywhere if they could?

"Just sayin'," Bobby shrugged. "You're gonna get flabby."

"Wh—" he saw the old hunter's lips quirk upward and pointed an accusing finger at him, "Not cool, man. Not cool."

Bobby chuckled under his breath, and then the light moment was over and it was time to discuss the important stuff.

"You gotten your head out of your ass?" Yeah, and Dean had to have a few words with the hunter about teaching his friend those kinds of expressions.

"Yeah," he sighed, running a hand through his hair, "I went to talk to Mel."

Bobby nodded and sat down, opening a new bottle of whiskey and motioning for him to take a glass and join him. "So your angel said." They both winced at the wording, and the old hunter sent him an apologetic look. Dean nodded and sat down across from him. "Any changes?"

Dean poured himself some scotch and downed his glass like it was water, making Bobby swallow sympathetically, "She's getting better." He rubbed his face, "Her fever's gone, and her breathing's back to normal. Looks like she's actually getting some real rest."

The hunter nodded in understanding, relief clear in his eyes as he looked back at Dean, "Did you figure out why she couldn't get past it?" he asked carefully.

Dean glanced hesitantly towards the living room, knowing that Cas was asleep but still not wanting him to hear this. Bobby seemed to get this and leaned forward, eyes sharpening with a frown.

"It was worry." Bobby straightened back. Confused.

"What? Cas said it w—"

"Sadness, I know." He sighed, "And it probably was, at first." Bobby's eyes softened. Because the idea of someone dying of sadness was heartbreaking enough as it was. "But what didn't let her heal was worry." They both glanced towards the living room again. "She was worried about Cas, about Sam, about Gabe and Balthazar, Elijah, you," he paused, guilt evident in his features, "…Me."

"So." Bobby brought him out of his thoughts, not one to let him wallow in self-pity, "What did you say to her?"

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering if being an angel was the only thing preventing him from having a massive headache, "I just…told her I'd take care of it."

And it was such a Dean thing to do that Bobby was already shaking his head. The boy really couldn't help it.

Dean saw this and glared at him, "What was I supposed to say, Bobby?" he hissed, careful not to be too loud, "She can't be worrying over everything. Not until she gets better." He sighed, his glare fading, "I can worry enough for the both of us. Besides, it's the least I can do." He paused, determination flaring in his green eyes, "Cas gave everything so that we could win. He deserves to have someone take care of him for once."

Bobby nodded. "That he does, the stupid featherbrain." He agreed. "But you don't have to do it alone, Dean. And you can shake your head at me all you want, son, but that idiot is part of the family now. And we take care of family." In Dean's eyes warred gratitude and doubt, "And I know that as soon as your brother gets some rest in him he'll be more than willing to help too."

Dean heaved a breath and gave in, rubbing his eyes before meeting the old hunter's eyes, "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Bobby raised his glass before downing it as well, "Idiot's got a strong will, but he's close to breakin' and that wall he's built 'round himself ain't gonna last long."

The hunter-turned-angel glared down at his empty glass, worry already eating away at his grace.

"I know."

Meanwhile, in the living room, Castiel's breathing hitched, his forehead damp with cold sweat as the memory of Raphael's blade pierced through his dreams.