A/N - This is going to be a two shot, second part to be posted tomorrow.

Sam hadn't slept in...god, how long had it been now? The fact that he couldn't remember was a problem, but it might explain why his head felt so heavy and his vision was starting to get a little swimmy. He had woken up at eight in the morning yesterday, he and Dean had gotten breakfast, done a few hours of research, and talked to a few random townsfolk who'd had loved ones found sucked dry over the past month and a half or so. Clear-cut vampire case, both he and Dean had known it right away, but still they had to double check everything. They had hung around the motel room for a few hours, although neither of them had slept, just watched some TV. Once the sun had gone down, they'd spent a while trying to find the vampire nest, then staking out outside it to be sure. Then they'd gone in to clean it out, which would have been cut and dry if everything hadn't gone to shit.

Sam had killed two vamps, and he thought Dean had killed two as well when a third one had pushed him down the stairs. Everything had frozen for a second, because Sam had expected Dean to get right back up and he hadn't. Everything in Sam had wanted to run to Dean right away, but he knew that that would just lead to them both dead when the remaining vampires came after them. So he had rallied, and killed Dean's vamp and then the last one, and then he had run over to Dean and flipped him onto his back.

Some loose piece of wood had stabbed right into Dean's stomach, and Sam had ripped it out when he turned him over because he hadn't known any better. Sam knew right away that Dean had received, and survived, worse. He also knew that this wasn't great, and there was absolutely no way that he could deal with it on his own. He'd called 911, and Dean had asked him why he was doing that and then passed out in his arms. Sam put pressure on the wound with one hand and called Cas with the other. Even though the angel's grace was still drained, Sam was still a little worried Dean was going to take a turn for the worse and he thought Cas would want to be there. He wanted Cas to be there.

Then the ambulance had arrived, and Dean had been rushed into the hospital, and then rushed into surgery. The whole process had taken...a while. He'd been in surgery for several hours. Cas had arrived somewhere along the way, looking tired and scared, and then there'd been nothing to do but wait. A doctor had come out not too long ago and told them Dean was stable, sleeping, and that they would let Sam and Cas see him when he started to come off the drugs but that could be a little while yet.

So Sam had been awake...all told, not more than twenty-four hours. Probably significantly less. Sam had left his phone in the vampire nest, and Cas had let his run out of battery. There was no clock in the hospital's waiting room, so Sam didn't know what time it was. He thought it might be around five in the morning.

"You look exhausted," Cas said softly from beside him. "You should get some sleep, if you can. I'll wake you up if-"

Sam didn't even really need to think about it. Even though the doctor had assured him that Dean was going to be fine, even though he was out of surgery and resting, Sam knew there would be no sleeping until Dean was safe and sound back in the bunker.

"Thanks, but…." He let the words trail off. Cas gave him an understanding look and nodded. Sam shifted restlessly on the plastic chair, which was the same too-small, hideously uncomfortable model as in every other hospital he'd ever been in. He really wished he didn't have firsthand knowledge, but it seemed like he'd repeated this night over and over again, waiting tensely for a doctor to come out and tell him he could see his brother, his dad, that he might look a little rough now but he was going to be okay. And knowing Dean, this wasn't going to be the last time.

The doctor finally appeared a few hours later. Sam hadn't slept, and Cas couldn't blame him. But the younger Winchester was beginning to droop slightly and Cas found himself hoping he'd nod off, when the doctor walked in and told them that Dean would likely be waking up soon.

Sam was up like a shot and into the room well before Cas. Dean was lying still in the bed, an IV snaking from his hand, his face white even against the sheets. Sam reached out, laying a hand over Dean's arm.

"Hey bro, it's time to wake up now. Bet you wanna get out of here, huh?"

Cas joined them, sitting in the chair next to Sam. As he approached, Dean's eyelids began flickering, and he twitched slightly.

"That's it, come on Dean," Sam urged. "Come on, man."

Dean's eyes flickered open, slits of dull green staring hazily into the light. Cas smiled, glad to see Dean awake. He'd been terrified when he'd gotten the call from Sam, cursing his own weakness and inability to aid Dean. But now, some of that worry and guilt dissipated.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean's eyes blinked the rest of the way open, and Cas waited for Dean to make a snarky comment or a pop culture reference that Cas didn't quite understand. He did not expect Dean's eyes to fill with tears, tears that rapidly overflowed and began running down his cheeks.

"What did I say?!" Cas gasped, scooting quickly away from the bed and feeling horribly guilty once more. Dean- Dean didn't cry. Not much, and not in front of him, anyway. He must have done something very wrong.

"Cas, it's not you," Sam said quickly.

"Sometimes patients coming out of anesthesia react like this," the nurse behind Sam said. "Has he been under anesthesia before?"

Sam snorted a soft laugh, and reached out to grab Dean's hand where it was lying limply on the pillow. "Yeah," Sam said. "Plenty of times. He doesn't always cry, but...heavy-duty drugs are not always Dean's friend."

"So he's in pain?" Cas whispered, alarmed. Dean's breathing hadn't changed, but he still had tears leaking steadily out of his eyes.

"He's not in any pain," the nurse said reassuringly. "I'm not even sure he knows you two are here right now. It's just a reaction to having so many drugs in his system, nothing more."

Cas swallowed and nodded slightly. He still hated seeing Dean like this, eyes glassy and blank and full of tears. But Sam didn't seem worried at all, he was still talking gently to Dean, even though it was clear Dean wasn't understanding. He reached one hand up to cup the side of Dean's face, and Dean's eyes rolled very slightly towards the pressure but he didn't react aside from that.

"He's not really back yet," Sam said. He was using the same very gentle tone of voice he'd been using to talk to Dean, and he was still looking at his brother. It took Cas a second to even realize that Sam was talking to him. "He has no idea what we're saying. It really doesn't matter. But if he couldn't see or hear me, he'd panic."

Cas sometimes found the extent to which Sam knew Dean overwhelming, almost scary. He was glad Sam knew what was going on, because if Cas had been alone with Dean, he would have had no idea what to do. He probably would have ended up making things worse. Instead, he just tried to follow along with Sam's lead.

"How...long will he be like this?" Cas asked. He tried to make his voice gentle, like Sam's. He wasn't sure how well it worked.

"This? Not too long," Sam said. "But it varies."

Dean made a small noise in his throat. Cas wasn't sure if it was supposed to be a word, but it was the first sound he'd even attempted since waking up.

"Yeah, come on Dean, that's it," Sam said, still in the same lilting tone of voice. "Just stop crying, man, and then we can get you out of here…."

Dean whimpered slightly, and tears continued coursing down his face. Sam just held onto his hand, stroking his palm and talking gently. Cas sat there awkwardly, unsure what else he should do. Dean didn't seem like Dean right now, which wasn't what Cas had expected in the slightest. He didn't like it.

It was about ten minutes later that Dean finally stopped crying and began to look around with some semblance of recognition. Sam squeezed his hand, and Dean turned his head slowly to look at him.

"S'mmy?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, Dean, it's me. How ya feeling?"

Dean paused, and Cas was starting to think he hadn't heard the question when his face broke out in a goofy grin.

"Goodddd," he said, somehow managing to slur the one syllable word. "Tingly."

Cas frowned slightly. He wasn't crying anymore, but this didn't seem like Dean either. Perhaps he was more damaged than Cas had thought.

"Sam," Cas hissed, eying Dean warily. "Dean is…this isn't normal."

Sam smiled a little, in a way that didn't seem very happy at all. "It is for Dean. Dean...really doesn't do well on painkillers. That's why he doesn't take them unless he really has to."

Cas glanced back at Dean uncertainly, starting slightly as he realized Dean was staring fixedly at them.

"Sad," Dean announced, rather vaguely. "Why're ya sad?"

Cas raised an eyebrow, looking to Sam for assistance decoding Dean.

"You're still frowning at him," Sam said gently. "It's gonna freak him out."

Cas winced. He hadn't meant to upset Dean, it was just a little unnerving to see the hunter so divorced from reality. But now that he knew that it was only from the drugs, not something more damaging (and permanent), he could handle it.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I'm not sad." Cas hesitated. Dean was blinking slowly at him, eyes still unfocussed. Cas didn't think he'd heard a word. Tentatively, he reached out and patted the hand that wasn't captured by Sam.

Dean smiled again, the haze in his eyes dissipating slightly. Cas nodded encouragingly at him, relieved that he was no longer crying.

"You ready to go home, dude?" Sam asked.

"Home?" Dean nodded enthusiastically, then tried to sit up. He didn't get very far before both Sam and Cas were pushing him back down.

"He's not ready to go home," the nurse broke in. "He just had major surgery, he needs to be kept overnight at least for observation. And he hadn't even fully come off the anaesthesia yet."

Cas drew himself up to his full height and turned to face the nurse. He was an angel of the lord, and if Dean wanted to go home Cas was not going to let anything stand in his way. This nurse was small and weak, she had been kind but he would smite her if he needed to.

"You're wrong," Cas said. "It's time for us to take him home. You can't stop us."

The nurse opened her mouth like she was going to argue, but instead, she just nodded and moved slightly aside.

Sam managed to acquire a wheelchair from the somewhat frightened nurse, which was good because practically, he knew he was never getting Dean out of the hospital without it. Cas could carry Dean into the bunker if needed, but that would raise obvious red flags if they tried it here, and at least at this point, there was no way he could walk. Even injuries aside, Sam thought he was probably too high to move his feet.

"We goin' somewhere?" Dean asked sleepily when Sam pulled his blankets back and started easing him into a sitting position.

"Yeah, Dean, I'm taking you home," Sam said.

"Home?" Dean asked excitedly.

"Yep."

"The...the car?"

Sam slid a hand behind Dean's back and bent him forward slightly, careful to take as much of his weight as possible while keeping his hands far from the injuries. "Yeah, I mean, we're going to the car now. But then we're going to use it to get us home."

"My car?"

"Yeah, Dean," Sam said, fighting to keep his voice even and calm as possible. "We're gonna go in your car."

"You drive," Dean said graciously, and Sam was glad to know he was at least cognizant enough to realize that he shouldn't be driving.

Sam still wasn't completly sure they should be moving Dean. He had a few concerns about staying at the hospital, first and foremost of which was the fact that high Dean had the tendency to tell doctors about monsters, which Sam knew could get him committed if he said it to the wrong person. Secondly, Sam didn't think Cas was strong enough to do much in the way of healing Dean, at least not immediately, but they certainly couldn't try when they were surrounded by medical professionals who knew all the details of Dean's condition.

Lastly, neither Winchester liked hospitals very much. Everything else aside, Dean would be more comfortable at home. And the initial wound hadn't been that bad. Sam knew how to handle this.

"Okay, we're gonna get you out of here," Sam told his brother. Dean stared blankly off into the distance, apparently not realizing that Sam was addressing him. Great, it was gonna be one of those days.

"Dean, we're gonna get you out of here," Sam repeated, making sure that Dean was watching him this time. Dean nodded, a little sloppily. Sam caught his eyes and continued. "We have a wheelchair here for you, do you think you can stand for a minute?"

Dean frowned at the word "wheelchair." Sam sighed. He'd been sure Dean was too out of it to catch that one.

"It'll be fun," he said, sounding horribly unconvincing to himself. "Like...like a ride. A fun ride."

Apparently, horribly unconvincing still worked on drugged-out-of-his-mind Dean, who nodded happily.

"Can you move for me and sit up?" Sam asked. Dean nodded again, and managed a sort of dramatic wiggle of his upper body before falling still. Sam waited a moment, and then realized that was all he was going to get.

"Cas, watch out for the nurse," Sam said, casting a quick glance at the distraught angel. Cas nodded, looking overwhelmed, and turned quickly to the door. Sam scooped Dean up into his arms (something he would never have allowed sober), staggering under the weight, and deposited him quickly in the waiting wheelchair. As Sam set his brother down, Dean made a small mewl of disapproval and reached out for Sam's arm, latching on tightly.

Sam blinked at his older brother, who was now staring up at him, grinning and clutching Sam's wrist for all he was worth. So much for Sam pushing Dean out of the hospital.

"I'm right here, Dean," Sam finally said, then looked helplessly at Cas. "Cas, could you-"

"Of course," Cas said, moving smoothly to the back of the wheelchair. "Whenever you're ready."

"I'm staying right here," Sam told Dean. "Do you think you could let go of my arm now?"

Dean thought for a moment, then nodded. He released Sam's wrist, then grabbed Sam's hand. He grinned up at Sam again, and however stupid this looked (and it probably looked really fucking stupid), there was absolutely no way Sam was going to be the reason that smile left Dean's face.

And he wasn't ever going to admit it - ever - but if, a few hours after Sam had almost lost him, his big brother wanted to hold onto him and never let go, Sam wasn't going to complain.

Dean held his hand all the way out of the hospital. No one laughed. No one even cracked a smile. Sam wasn't absolutely sure, but he thought that might have something to do with the overprotective angel of the lord hovering behind them, throwing around his best smite-ready glare. Sam didn't have to look around at Cas. He could actually feel each successive hallway quieting as Cas entered it.

They arrived at the Impala, and even though Dean was too high to form coherent thoughts, his face lit up when we saw it.

"Yeah," Sam said encouragingly. "You're excited to see your car again, huh?"

Dean didn't react to Sam's voice, but Sam didn't mind. He was just glad Dean wasn't having a drug-induced meltdown, and he didn't seem to be in pain yet.

"I'm going to drive," Sam said. "I want you to go in the backseat with Dean. He's probably going to want to sit in the front, if he can think that much, but I don't want him there. He should probably stretch out as much as possible."

Sam hadn't yet actually seen the wound on Dean's stomach, so he didn't have a great sense of how bad it was. It clearly wasn't bothering Dean at all, but that meant next to nothing at this point. Once the drugs wore off Sam thought Dean would be in a world of hurt, and he knew this injury would take a little bit for Dean to fully recover from. He thought Dean would be more comfortable in the long term if they could keep from putting too much strain on it, and if that meant Sam had to drive the Impala with Dean's head in his lap then he would do it.

But Sam had Cas, so luckily he didn't think it would come to that. With Cas's help, they carefully maneuvered Dean into the backseat.

"Waitttt," Dean protested. "This is my car."

"I know it is," Sam said gently.

Dean thought carefully about this. "So…."

"Yeah, Dean?" Sam prompted, even though he already knew where Dean was heading.

"So I should drive," Dean finally finished triumphantly, words still a little slurred.

"You can't drive right now," Sam said. "You're hurt, remember?"

Dean's eyes narrowed slightly, and he started probing at the bandages on his stomach. A look of shock crossed his face when he touched something that must have hurt.

"Dean, stop touching that!" Sam said. He kept any anger out of his voice, knowing that would only scare Dean, but he tried to make sure he was paying attention. "Cas, make sure he doesn't do that again."

Cas nodded, and got gingerly in the car beside Dean. They worked together to position him, which, in Sam's opinion, was somewhat like maneuvering a large, fleshy, duffle bag. He didn't get in the way, exactly, but he certainly wasn't helping. He refused to straighten his legs out, so they ended up with his knees bent and drawn halfway to his chest, the top of his head pressed up against Cas's thigh.

Sam sighed. "I think this is probably as good as we're gonna get. Cas, you okay?"

The angel looked down at Dean and nodded with more conviction than was probably warranted. Sam glanced at Dean, who was staring spellbound at the back of the seat, and shook his head. Hopefully, he'd be able to get Dean back to the bunker before he managed to damage himself further. They'd had enough bad luck lately, it must be time for it to change. Sam got in the driver's seat and started the car.

As the purr of the engine filled the backseat, Dean's eyes lit up. "Thas m' baby," he told Cas earnestly.

Cas still didn't quite get the way Dean referred to the Impala. It was, after all, just a hunk of metal (a rather inefficient and cramped hunk of metal, for that matter), certainly not a girl. Cas had never mentioned this, mostly because he thought Dean might kill him for such an insult. And he certainly couldn't mention it now, because Dean might cry and that would be worse. So he just nodded solemnly. "I know."

Dean's grin widened, and he reached up and patted a fold of Cas's trenchcoat. "Good."

Cas could actually see Dean lose his train of thought. His eyes narrowed, then widened, and he looked back up at Cas, trenchcoat clutched in his fingers.

"Coat," Dean said.

"Yes." Cas wasn't sure what else there was to say.

"Tan," Dean elaborated.

"Yes."

"Didn' know yer allowed t'wear tan," Dean mumbled. "Angels'r boring. Grey n white. No tan allowed."

Cas heard a choking sound from the front seat and realized Sam was trying not to laugh. Personally, he didn't see how this was a laughing matter.

"There is no dress code," Cas informed Dean. "My tie is blue. That is not grey or white."

Dean frowned. From the front seat, Sam cleared his throat diplomatically. "How 'bout some music?"

"Music," Dean agreed happily, and the radio came on with a crackle. Music drifted to the backseat, some sort of soft pop. Cas wasn't really listening, not until Dean began humming along.

"Mmmm...wouldn' 't be niiiiicee…."

Sam made the choking sound again. "Dude, are you singing along to the Beach Boys?"

"Mmm," Dean mumbled. "Beach Boys rock."

Sam giggled. There was no other way to describe it. "Ohhh, I wish I could make fun of him for this…."

Cas still didn't understand which music was "cool" and which music wasn't, and how it was defined. He did know that it was one of the main arguments the Winchesters still had. He didn't think he'd ever understand why. He was on the point of asking Sam about the Beach Boys and their relative coolness when he felt a sharp tug on his trenchcoat and looked down.

"Dean?" Cas asked. "Are you alright?"

"Th' air is weird," Dean announced, and stared at Cas as though he expected the angel to somehow solve this problem. Cas blinked at him, stymied.

"That is upsetting," Cas finally said. "I am sorry."

"It's…." Dean trailed off, blinking dazedly into space. His fingers convulsed lightly on Cas's jacket.

"It's what?" Cas prompted gently after a few long moments of this.

Dean's gaze shifted slowly up to focus on Cas, but there was no understanding there. He frowned.

"Am I...am I driving a car?" he asked.

Cas blinked at him. "No? Sam is driving the car. You're riding in a car."

Dean sighed, and his head pressed a little harder into Cas's thigh. Cas was unsure what to do. He couldn't even tell if Dean was upset or not. Cautiously, he moved his hand so it was resting on Dean's shoulder. Dean didn't protest, but Cas thought it was possible that that was because he hadn't noticed.

"Am I sleeping?" he whispered.

"No," Cas said. "Do you want to be sleeping?"

"Is he doing okay?" Sam asked from the front. Cas watched as he tried to move enough to get a good view of his brother in the rearview mirror, but Dean was lying almost perfectly flat and Cas didn't think it would be possible for him to get much of an angle. "What's he asking?"

"He's just confused."

"Am I...am I confused?" Dean mumbled.

"Yes," Cas said. "You're confused. It's because of the drugs they gave you for the surgery."

Dean frowned.

"It'll go away," Cas added.

Dean made a soft humming sound, then looked distressed when Cas didn't understand it.

"What was that?" Cas asked.

"Do I...do I have legs?" Dean asked.

Cas was starting to get a little concerned. This was a lot to deal with. He was starting to wish that he was driving instead, and then Sam could deal with Dean and his insane, concerning questions.

"Do your legs hurt, Dean?" Cas asked, trying to keep his voice even.

He flexed his fingers on Cas's jacket again, bunching the material in his hands. "I'm...looking at my hands."

"Yes."

"I'm lying here looking at my hands. I'm...these are my fingers. I'm looking at my fingers."

"Yes."

"Right now," Dean said. He made another soft, contented hum. Cas was still confused, but he was glad Dean was entertained.

"Would it be okay if I was sleeping?" Dean whispered.

"Yes, Dean. Get some sleep if you'd like."

"Cas?" Dean said.

"What is it?"

Dean turned his face sleepily, so his nose was squished against Cas's leg. It didn't look like a very comfortable position, but he seemed happy enough. "You're pretty cool."

"Cool." Cas had a vague understanding of what this meant. Dean thought classic cars were cool. He thought Westerns were cool. He thought fighting was cool, and sometimes explosions. The common thread seemed to be that Dean liked and sought out things that were cool, and Cas was honored to make the list.

"Thank you," Cas said solemnly. He waited a few seconds for a reply, which eventually came in the form of a gentle snuffling noise from Dean. He'd fallen asleep. Feeling slightly relieved, Cas patted Dean gently on the shoulder and relaxed back into the seat with a sigh.

Dean slept the whole way back to the bunker, which was something of a relief for Sam. He would never be able to forget the time they'd been driving back from the hospital after Dean had gotten eighteen stitches in his lower back and Sam had pointed out a horse on the side of the road, at which point Dean had actually opened the door of the moving car. Sam had yelled, Dean had startled, and the whole adventure had ended up with Sam restitching a mopey Dean in the crappy motel room of the week.

Sam had no interest in repeating that, or any similar situation. It was much easier with Dean in the back seat, closely guarded by Cas. Even so, Sam would rather his brother be asleep. At least that way he probably couldn't manage to fuck himself up any worse.

Sam parked the Impala and opened the door to the backseat, where Dean was blinking sleepily up at him.

"Ready to go inside?" Sam asked, and Dean nodded with a grin.

"Can you sit up?" Sam prompted, and thanked Cas with a glance as the angel managed to subtly help Dean upright. Dean sat, swaying, as Sam reached out for his hand.

"Nnnn, I cn do it," Dean informed him, starting to stand, then immediately sitting back with a surprised expression on his face. "Mmm. spinny."

"Dean," Sam said patiently. "Dean, me and Cas are gonna make it not so spinny. Please, take my hand."

"Mmkay," Dean answered. He let Sam pull him upright, clutching Sam's arm with his left hand.

"Dean?" Cas cleared his throat slightly. "Could you...let go of my coat?"

Sam and Dean both looked down at Dean's right hand, which was still holding a fistful of Cas's trenchcoat. Dean considered, then shook his head.

Sam shrugged helplessly. Dean was very weak right now, so if Cas really didn't want Dean holding onto him he could always pry his fingers away. But that would obviously upset Dean, and Sam knew Cas wouldn't do it. Cas carefully worked one side of his coat off so Dean could hold onto it without impacting Cas's movement so much, then shifted so he could grab onto Dean's shoulder, helping him balance.

Sam looped his arm around Dean's waist, taking as much of his brother's weight as he dared, careful not to put any pressure on his injured stomach. Dean immediately leaned into the physical contact, his head dropping onto Sam's upper arm, his free hand grabbing at Sam's thigh.

"Mmm," Dean murmured. "Sammy."

"Yeah, man? Do you need something?"

"Big," he muttered.

"What?"

"You...you're so big. Like a big tree. A...a big car."

Sam chuckled slightly. He didn't think he resembled a big car in any way whatsoever, aside from the fact that he knew cars made Dean feel safe.

"Alright. We're gonna start walking now, okay? All you have to do is move your feet."

"A dinosaur," Dean said, making no attempt to move his feet. It took Sam a moment to connect that this was another thing that was large like Sam.

"Yeah, man," Sam said. "Those are big too."

Sam took a small step forward, hoping to prompt Dean into starting to walk too. Dean took a single step, then his leg buckled. He would have gone down if Cas hadn't quickly grabbed his other side, keeping him balanced.

"Whoa," Dean exclaimed. "They're like noodles."

"Do you want Cas to carry you?" Sam asked. He wasn't sure if Dean could make it inside the house, and a bad fall could reopen the careful work the doctors had done putting him back together.

"Cn we play a game?" Dean asked, tilting his head slightly and turning the full force of his big pleading eyes on Sam.

"Well, we have to get inside first," Sam said. "And then you really need to get some sleep."

"A game?" he asked hopefully.

"Sure, man. First getting into the bunker, then a game."

Dean dropped the weight of his head onto Sam's shoulder again. Sam could feel that Dean was exhausted, so he wasn't sure whether or not a game was really in the cards. He couldn't imagine what sort of game Dean could manage playing right now anyways.

"Is this gonna be forever?" Dean muttered worriedly into Sam's shoulder.

"Nah, don't worry, just for...," Sam did some quick calculations in his head, "maybe until tomorrow morning. We just have to get you inside."

"Inside for a game," Dean declared happily.

"Yep," Sam sighed, taking the next small step forward. It was going to be a long night.