Dean was surprised to find himself waking up, not having ever noticed falling asleep. He blinked a few times, the brightness far more intense now that the sun was up. Dean shifted as much as his body would allow, trying to stretch out his stiff muscles a little.

Cas was still asleep on the other bed. Not having much he could do from his position, Dean found himself watching the former angel sleep. He noticed he looked peaceful, sleeping without apparent nightmares, probably not in any small part due to the morphine running through his IV. Dean was feeling much more level headed now, and in the harsh daylight it was almost possible to write off last night's ramblings as a late night fever dream. He wasn't sure what had prompted his long rant, or what his point had been. But it was in the past now. He was confident that Cas would not bring it up, and allow him to move on and save some face.

Dean felt a flash of guilt, looking over Cas. He was battered, and looked exhausted even in his peaceful rest. He was injured, on the run from the angels, injured and in a hospital. all because he chose to throw in his lot with him. He begged Cas to rebel, begged him to help fight the apocalypse with him. And now Cas was human, homeless, and all but helpless. He jumped slightly, realizing that Cas' eyes were open and the angel was watching him.

"Cas…" He said weakly.

"Whatever you were thinking about, it wasn't your fault."

Dean's face flushed warm, and he scrunched his brow, sputtering for a response. "What-"

"You had that look… the look that you get when you're feeling guilty about something." Cas explained. "And I'm here to tell you, it's not your fault."

"You wouldn't be here if it wasn't for me."

Cas seemed to consider this for a moment. "No. I would be in heaven, watching over the burnt husk of the world post apocalypse." Cas shook his head. "There hasn't been a single day of my life I have regretted siding with you. And everything that has happened since, none of it is your fault. You didn't make the angels fall, you didn't steal my grace, you didn't even set off the spell that caused the car to crash…" Cas locked eyes with him. "Dean… you have to learn not to shoulder blame that you don't deserve."

Dean winced at the words, wanting to tear his gaze away, but not able to. Finally he relaxed, deciding not to argue further. "Still… I'm sorry Cas."

"As am I." Cas let out a sigh. "There is a large possibility the spell that nearly killed us was intended as an attack against me by the angels."

"Yeah. I considered that."

"I should have anticipated that the price on my head might endanger you."

"When has there ever not been a price on one of our heads?" Dean said seriously. "It doesn't change anything. I wouldn't say we got out of it unscathed, but we're both alive. Whatever it was they were trying to do didn't work. So don't you get any ideas about leaving."

"Dean-"

"I mean it Cas." Dean said firmly. He dropped his voice slightly, looking away. "I need you here, man. Please, just-" He cut himself off, looking up as Sam cleared his throat at the door.

"I interrupting anything?"

Dean flashed a quick cover smile. "Nah, just in time. I think they're gonna be showing up with breakfast any minute now."

"Yeah, for Cas." Sam said with a small laugh, coming in and dragging a chair between the beds, oblivious to the serious conversation that had just been going on.

Cas looked away, trying to compose his thoughts.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, furrowing his brow.

"You're NPO dude."

"NP-... What?" he asked, confused.

Sam rolled his eyes. "You're getting surgery later. Means no breakfast."

"What? That's bullshit."

"That's life. Caught your doctor in the hallway, he'll be in soon. But it looks like they think they can do the ribs and the leg in one go, spare you going under twice. And more than that, if they like the readouts, they can remove the probe from your head. Fingers crossed, you'll be out of here and on bedrest at home in a couple days."

"Sign me out, I can be at home on bed rest tomorrow."

"Yeah, keep dreaming sunshine." Sam shot back. "Saw the Impala. Impressive job there. You'll have a lot of work to do when you get back on your feet."

"Everything in back-"

"All accounted for. Oh…" Sam dug into his pocket, pulling out a knit hat. "Found this discarded in the front. Put it through the wash, cleaned up nice." He tossed it onto Cas' lap. "Coat was a lost cause, I don't think all the bleach in the world was gonna get rid of that much blood." He looked apologetic, but Cas smiled, holding the hat.

"Thanks Sam."

"Don't mention it."

True to Sam's prediction, Dean had to grumpily sit through watching Cas eat breakfast. He was more than a little relieved when it was actually time to go to surgery. It meant that at least that evening he'd be able to eat something, not to mention potentially lay on his back finally. This whole inability to move thing was really getting old.

Dean was no stranger to surgery, though it was rare he was actually conscious for the beginning of the procedure. Usually surgery for the Winchesters was a result of dire need, and he was already unconscious when being wheeled in. Even when he was awake, it was rare to have such a calm scheduled procedure, and he felt weirdly out of place as the staff prepared around him with no haste. He allowed them to place the mask over his face and he breathed deeply as they had him count into oblivion.

When Dean woke, he had to struggle to get his eyes open through the fog of drugs. Waking up was hard after anesthesia. He blinked a few times, trying to make sense of what was going on around him. It was dim, he figured the lights were half off. He strained to hear the sounds of the hospital in what he figured was the recovery room. Quiet… weird. Maybe they kept the monitors on silent for some reason here. He smiled gently to himself. Maybe it was just because even the nurses were annoyed by the constant beeping.

His hazy view shifted upwards to look at the monitor next to him, and he frowned, his sluggish brain struggling to catch up to what he was seeing. His heart skipped a beat. Blood, spattered across the broken screen. He struggled to pull himself upright but his limbs wouldn't cooperate and even through the morphine he could feel the pain that told him to slow down. He looked sideways, to the floor, scattered with the bloodied bodies of nurses with their throats slit. He heard a noise near the door, a thud and then a scream. He saw the door handle to his room turning and he struggled to find purchase on anything near him, trying not to be caught completely helpless. A familiar figure entered. "Sam?" he hissed.

"I am not your brother." the angel's voice returned.

"Zeek… what the hell is going on!?"

"Demons." Was the simple reply.

Dean let his still clearing head turn that information over for a moment. "How many?" He asked at last.

"I've killed 12 thus far. I am unsure of how many remain."

"Abbadon sent them?"

"Yes. I believe they are after your brother for the location of Crowley. They believe he has completed the purification ritual and Crowley is human."

Dean stared blankly for a moment. "They're after Sam… then… they caused the car accident?" He paused to get a nod from the angel. "They staged the break in… and when they saw it was just Cas and I they had to change the plan." Crash the car, either kill or injure the passengers. Either way, Sam would come running, and then they could do what they wanted. "I'm so stupid. That wasn't even Bobby's unit, was it?"

"The demons seem to have staged the whole plan."

Dean paled, looking up hastily. "Cas?"

"I just cleared the hallway. I will return your brother to you, and he can help from there."

"Wait, what the hell do I tell him?"

"When I took over, he had already killed the demons in this room. He needn't know I helped with the halls. I took care to conceal the bodies."

"Fine, okay I'm ready."

"Dean?" Sam's voice cut through. "Ready for what, are you okay?"

"Sam." Dean took a breath, catching up to the sudden change. "I'm okay, are you-"

"Just got done with these. They're demons."

Dean nodded. "I can smell." The air was thick with sulfur. "Cas?"

"I was just going to head up there. I was a little busy here." He opened the door quickly and pulled in a wheelchair. "You're coming with me." He came to Dean's side, reaching down to help him up.

Dean tried to shrug him off, but he finally relented, knowing that practically speaking, he needed the help. He allowed himself to be lifted and placed in the chair. He accepted the offered shotgun, and tried to hide the grimaces of pain as his freshly sutured wounds were jostled.

Sam backed them out into the hallway so he could make sure the coast was clear first. Empty. He hurried, pushing them towards the elevator.

"Where is everyone else?" Dean asked quietly, keeping a sharp eye out.

Sam shook his head, though he was out of Dean's view. "I don't know about the rest but… everyone on this floor who wasn't a demon didn't make it." Sam said softly.

"Where were you?"

"Surgery waiting room. Doctor came to tell me how it went. Was just telling me they were setting you up in recovery when a black eyed nurse came up and stabbed him. We fought, I booked it over to you."

"Sam, Cas-"

"I put up sigils in the entryways similar to some of the bunker's. Should work like a salt line at the door and windows." Sam interrupted.

Dean nodded, relieved. He gave Sam a lot of shit about being a nerd, but he was thankful for his obsessive studies of the bunker's warding now. He kept his shotgun at the ready as they rode the elevator up to the fifth floor, and as the doors opened they could already hear the commotion. They rounded the corner, seeing the three demons, clawing at the open door like wild animals, being held back by some unseen force. As soon as they caught their attention, Dean raised up the shotgun and began loading them up with rock salt while Sam began his well rehearsed exorcism.

As soon as the coast was clear, Sam pushed them forwards.

"Cas?" Dean's gruff voice carried.

"Dean." A soft and relieved sounding response.

The two swept in through the open door, shutting it behind them. They crossed over the newly drawn devils trap inside the room, rounding the corner and coming to rest beside Cas' bed. The former angel looked between the two of them, relief written across his face. They all took a moment to breathe before thinking through their next moves.

"So, Demons." Dean broke the silence, nodding. "Fuck."