Epilogue: Angel on Our Shoulder

So, this story was done, salted and burned and all that. Then a friend said I was missing one very big piece. It needed, she said, more Cas. She couldn't let it go (really, really, couldn't), so here's an epilogue, a quick little addition about the angel who's kind of the third Winchester brother. It doesn't really have a specific tag – I left details vague on purpose. The guys are in the bunker, Cas is on their side, and he has his mojo. I wrote it more from Cas' point of view than I intended, but I kinda like it this way. Please enjoy this little bit of extra writing!

OH, and I almost forgot, there are reviews that I can't see for some reason, so I know there are at least two I've never responded to, and I'm sorry. All I can see is that they're there, but I can't actually read them. Bummer.

Cas had promised not to hurry back to the bunker, but he had lied. It was a skill the Winchesters had taught him well. Though in their defense, they usually lied for the greater good. And he could sort of justify it because they had lied first. He'd been busy on a hunt of his own, but he still hadn't liked that they'd gone without him. They had promised to check in when their hunt was over, and they did.

"You're on speaker, Cas," Dean had said. Even over the tinny speaker, the angel could hear the pain in the man's voice. He hid it well, but Cas was far too familiar with Dean covering up hurts to be fooled. "Hunt is done, and we're heading home."

"Are you injured?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Dean lied. "And so is Sam."

"Yeah, we're good," said Sam, making Cas want to shake them both, since there was unmistakable pain in his voice too.

"Finish what you're doing." That was Dean again. "Don't hurry back. We don't have anything else on the radar right now, and what you're doing is important."

"I could –" started Cas, but Sam interrupted him.

"Don't worry about us, Cas. Just finish up, okay?"

He'd reluctantly agreed, but knowing they were hurt and that he could help wriggled around in his mind and wouldn't let go. He hated that he didn't know how bad off they were. So, as soon as he could, he transported himself to the bunker, landing in a storage room to avoid alerting them to his presence immediately. It was only after he landed that he realized that it was late at night on this side of the world. Perhaps they'd gone to sleep.

He was right, but neither of the brothers were in their room. They were in the hub, Sam slumped over the table with his cheek on one palm, and Dean sprawled in an armchair with his head lolling onto one shoulder. There were dishes and bottles of beer around them, and Cas allowed himself the very human gesture of rolling his eyes at their chosen method of pain control. The fact that they'd both fallen asleep here meant that they were both trying to keep an eye on the other, which meant they were most assuredly injured.

After many arguments, the angel had agreed that he wouldn't ever heal the boys against their will. He understood that both had a strong need to feel in control. But if he could do it slowly and gently, without waking them…neither had said not to heal them in this instance.

Cas ignored his own version of Winchester logic. It was for their own good, these most stubborn of all humans.

Deeply asleep, Dean nevertheless felt the feather-light touch on his forehead. He didn't lash out though, because he recognized it for what it was, and also the coolness that washed through him afterwards. Reaching up without opening his eyes, he snagged a wrist. "You dint haff to do that, Cas," he whispered, more than half asleep, but remembering that Sam was nearby sleeping too. "But, uh, did you take care of Sammy?"

Cas rolled his eyes again. What else would Dean ask first? His friend released the edge of his coat, sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Yes, Dean. He had four broken ribs! And you – a concussion and twisted knee. I don't understand why – "

"Thanks, Cas." Dean's eyes were more open now. "Really, man. We hate to ask all the time, but thank you."

"I second that," mumbled Sam from across the table.

"Maybe you should attempt to get injured less often," said Cas acerbically, but really he'd already softened. These men didn't let many people – or angels – into their inner circle, and the truth was that he'd heal them every day if he had to. "And maybe you should go to your actual beds."

Dean smiled at that. "Yes, mommy." He stood and smacked Sam on the shoulder. "C'mon, Sleeping Beauty."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

But Sam did get up, clapping Cas on the back as he went past. Dean did the same thing.

"I'll watch over you," said Cas under his breath when Dean had gone past him too. But he'd forgotten the older hunter's almost preternatural sense of hearing.

"We know you will, Cas."