AN: Time for a little bonding between Mary and Cas.

The hospital was quiet, except for the quiet bleeps from the equipment surrounding Dean's bed. Mary had lost track of time, but she was reasonably sure it was sometime just before dawn. It didn't really matter. The only thing she cared about right now was watching the steady rise and fall of her eldest son's chest. It had taken her, Bobby and Cas to carry Dean out of the bunker and load him into the truck. Cas had done what he could, but Dean was still badly injured, so they'd had no choice but to drive him to the closest hospital. Sitting in that truck, wondering if she was going to lose both her boys was the hardest thing Mary had ever done.

Even once they made it to the emergency room, she had to spin quite a story in order to come up with a reasonable explanation for his injuries. Luckily, the attending doctor had cared more about getting Dean into an examination room than worrying about how the man in his care got there. As she filled in the paperwork the nurse had given her, she realized just how little she knew about the men who were her children. She remembered his blood type, but did Dean have any allergies to medication? Any previous surgeries? Did he have any metal implants in his body? Sam would have known.

Thinking of Sam made her gut clench. How could her youngest be dead? She had seen firsthand his body laid out on that table like some kind of sacrifice. Shaking her head, she forced the thoughts away. Even though she didn't really know the witch Rowena, Sam trusted her and that had to be enough for now. The crazy story the redhead had shared about Death incarnate was hardly the weirdest thing to have happened to her. After all, she had been resurrected by God's sister, brainwashed into an assassin and had just returned from an alternative universe. The bar on crazy was set kind of high.

Just as the need for coffee began to assert itself, Mary's phone buzzed softly. It was Bobby. She tiptoed out of the room to answer it.

"Hello," she answered, keeping her voice low in deference to the early hour.

"Hey Mary, how is Dean doing?" Bobby's gruff voice was a comfort. She'd gotten very fond of him, and it was good to feel like she had someone so steady in her corner.

"Well, they say he's stable for now. They set his wrist, and put his shoulder back in place, although that took some doing." The echo of her son's muffled screams as they adjusted the joint back into position still rang in her ears. She shivered and wrapped her free arm around herself. "He's got a concussion and some cracked ribs, but the big problem is his back. It's fractured, but right now, everything is so swollen, they can't tell yet if the spinal cord is damaged. It looks like he's paralysed, Bobby. They just don't know yet if it will be permanent. The doctor wanted to give Dean's body some time to see if the swelling will go down." Her words ran together as she stumbled over them, unexpectedly overwhelmed by sharing the bad news. Gulping, she fought to keep from crying, sagging against the wall for support.

"Don't you worry, Mary." There was a note of confidence in Bobby's tone that gave Mary hope. "I know it looks bad, but Cas tells me that once Jack is back on his feet, he can fix Dean up, right as rain."

"I know. It's just hard to see him like this." Mary knew her eldest was resilient. Reading John's journal had made that abundantly clear. Sometimes she missed John with an intensity that ached, but other times she wanted to kick his ass. He had given their sons an incredibly difficult childhood, their lives had been full of fear and heartbreak, loss and pain. Her own upbringing had been tough enough, she had never, ever wanted her children to live that life, to become Hunters. But it had made her sons strong, and she knew that Dean was a fighter, so she had to believe he could come back from this.

"I bet. Look, I'm gonna stay here to keep an eye on the witch, but Cas said he'd come by later this morning, so just…, try not to worry too much." It was sweet to hear the crusty man, making such an effort to be supportive. There were a lot of layers to Bobby Singer, and she was glad to be getting to know him better. After promising to try and get some rest, she said goodbye and hung up. Rolling her head on stiff shoulders, she went down the hall to the little family room and got herself a cup of black coffee. It had probably been made hours ago but holding it in her hands gave her something to do other than worry or grieve. Returning to the room where Dean was lying so still, she curled up as best she could in the chair next to his bed, content to watch her son.

xxxxxx

Cas was tired. As an angel, he didn't usually need sleep, but he had tried his best to rest last night so that he could hopefully regenerate enough grace to help his family. It had been a somewhat futile exercise. His anxiety for those he loved was far too strong to allow him to do more than lie on his mattress and stare at the ceiling while the night passed. But, he did feel his grace sluggishly rebuilding. When he felt enough time had passed, and he could lie there no longer, he gave up and headed to the kitchen to make some coffee. Spending so much time with the Winchesters, he had grown used to the morning ritual and although the caffeine did nothing for him, he knew that the humans currently in the Bunker might welcome some when they awoke.

First though, he checked in on Jack. Once Bobby and Mary had left to take Dean to the hospital, he and Rowena had been able to rouse Jack a little bit and had helped the boy to his bedroom. Jack had felt sick, clammy, and looked oh so young huddled under the covers sleeping fitfully. Cas had sat with his son for a long while until he had finally stopped resonating. Only then did he feel comfortable retiring to his own room. The end of the resonance was a positive sign, and Cas was hopeful Jack would be back on his feet after some rest. The boy was sleeping more peacefully this morning, so Cas tenderly pulled the blanket up over his shoulders and slipped out.

Cas silently passed by the library where Rowena was curled up in one of the big leather armchairs. Last night he had offered Rowena one of the vacant rooms, but she had refused, insisting that she stay close to monitor her spell. So, he had dragged one of the chairs closer to the opening into the map room. She had seemed content enough to curl up and cat nap, throughout the night, so Cas had left her to her own devices. Walking by her quietly this morning, she seemed to be asleep, so he was careful not to wake her.

As much as he wanted to avoid the map room, Cas forced himself to check on Sam's body. It was difficult to look at the younger Winchester, just lying there like an indictment to all Cas' failures. He had failed to save Sam in those cursed tunnels back in the apocalypse world, and he had failed to save him now. Yet Sam had immediately come to his defence when Michael was stealing his grace. And the archangel had killed him for it. The day had brought no change to the corpse and Cas felt terrible helplessness and sorrow in looking at his dead friend. If Dean were here, he would be in motion, demanding answers from Rowena, pacing the room, researching a way to bring his brother back to life, maybe even just sitting in thought, downing whiskey like water. But Dean wasn't here, and that was another burden Cas was carrying.

Instead of grieving and raging against Sam's death, Dean was lying in a hospital bed. Last night Cas had sat on the floor, weak and helpless, and watched Dean almost die by Lucifer's hand. And then Sam -, Dean's heartbreak was almost as harrowing to witness as Sam's death. Cas wilted against the wall, overcome with emotions he struggled to process. He couldn't save Sam, he couldn't heal Dean, he couldn't even protect Jack. Once he'd been a powerful warrior, but now he was just pathetic, contemptible, and useless.

A sound in the hallway drew his attention and recognized the footsteps coming down the hall as belonging to Bobby Singer. After dropping Mary and Dean at the hospital, the hunter had driven into town to check on Maggie and had stayed there overnight. Pushing off the wall, Cas continued his trip to the kitchen. Had it been Bobby from this world, he might have shared some of his worries with the old man. After all Bobby had been a wise and caring father figure to Sam and Dean, displaying a depth of wisdom that made him a valuable ally. Cas had considered him a friend and deeply regretted that his misguided actions had ultimately led to Bobby's death. But this version of the man had only recently put aside his hatred of angels, and although they both cared about the Winchesters and Jack, they could hardly be called friends. Still, by the time Bobby reached the kitchen, Cas had the coffee brewing.

"Morning," the bluff hunter offered as he grabbed a mug and waited for the carafe to fill with the deep brown liquid.

"Morning," Cas replied. He wasn't sure what to do now, so he lingered by the counter. "Um, did you want some breakfast?" he offered, even though his culinary skills were extremely limited. If requested, he could make toast and he was fairly confident that he could attempt some eggs if his companion wasn't too particular about them being overcooked. Before answering, Bobby expertly swapped the pot for his mug long enough to fill it, before putting the glass carafe back under the now slowing stream.

"No thanks. I had a bite before I left Jules' place." Bobby slid into one of the chairs and after a slug from his cup, gestured Cas to take a seat opposite. Cas sat, surprised by the offer.

"So, I was talking to Mary earlier. Seems like Dean is in rough shape." Before Cas could say anything, Bobby waved him off. "Nobody blames you Castiel, it just is what it is. Now I told Mary that once Jack was up to it, that he'd be able to fix Dean."

"Yes," Cas confirmed. "Once Jack is himself again, I can help guide him to repair any damage Dean has sustained." At least that was something Cas could be sure of. Jack loved the Winchesters and would be eager to use his powers to help.

"Good, because Mary is beside herself with worry." Bobby took another sip of his beverage, then fixed Cas with a determined gaze. "I told her that you would go by the hospital this morning to check on them." Forestalling Cas' objection with a raised hand, Bobby continued. "I know you're worried about the kid, but he ain't doing nothing but sleeping for now. I'll keep an eye on him and the witch."

Cas wanted to be there for Jack when the boy woke up, but he was torn. He'd like to see Dean and offer what comfort he could to Mary. She had been there for him when Sam and Dean had disappeared into government custody. The least he could do was be with her while they waited for Dean to wake up.

xxxxxx

In his long life, hospitals were more or less the same everywhere. Oh, these in North America were far better equipped than some, but every facility carried that lingering imprint of pain, sorrow and fear. No matter how state of the art or how caring the staff, those feelings became part of the building and left an impression that he could feel even decades later. Today, Cas ignored those oppressive feelings, already dealing with plenty of his own. Bobby had given him the number, so he simply slipped past the nurse's station and found Dean's room.

Mid-morning sunlight was pouring in through the window which did a lot to mitigate the sadness of the small room. Mary was asleep, feet tucked under her and chin on her chest. Not wanting to wake her, Cas kept silent and made his way to the bed when Dean lay. His friend was hooked up to a number of medical devices that provided information about his physical health, but Cas disregarded them in favour of his own assessment. Closing the door to avoid detection, he called upon his power and hovered his hand in a slow pass over Dean. Palm glowing, he did his best to catalog the damage.

There were so many injuries. It was beyond his capacity to heal everything. He sighed softly and focused his limited grace on reducing the swelling in Dean's brain and repairing the damage caused by the concussion. He hoped it would at least lessen Dean's suffering when he eventually awoke. Wishing he could do more, he stopped when he began to feel faint.

"I'm so sorry Dean," he murmured, swaying slightly with exhaustion.

"It's not your fault, Castiel," said Mary. He startled slightly, having been too absorbed in healing to notice that Mary had woken up. She smiled at him fondly and stood, stretching and rolling the stiffness out of her neck and shoulders. He couldn't muster up even an imitation of his own smile, and could only shake his head, heavy with guilt. Coming to stand beside him, Mary tucked her hand into his and gave it a squeeze. Glancing at the clock above the door, she tugged at him gently.

"C'mon. The nurse will throw us out in a few minutes anyway when they do rounds, and I need some coffee." Cas allowed himself to be pulled away, confident from his own assessment that Dean wouldn't wake for a while yet. Following Mary back through the hospital, she led him to a small cafeteria. It wasn't busy this time of the morning, so Mary purchased them each a steaming cup and they sat down at one of the small tables away from the door. Cas raised his mug.

"Thank you," he said. She just shrugged and sipped her own beverage. They sat for a while in comfortable silence, watching the attendant wipe some tables and refill the napkin dispensers.

"So, walk me through what happened after we left." Sometimes it was easy to forget that the woman across from him was a competent and deadly hunter. Her question reminded him of her sons and their ability to analyse a situation. Feeling compelled to report, he still found it difficult to confess his failings.

"I was unconscious for a part of it," he warned. "After you left, Michael came, and I was knocked out. When I awoke, Lucifer and Jack had arrived and stopped him, but not before he came close to killing Dean. If I understand correctly, Lucifer promised to take Jack on an adventure to the stars." He grimaced at how naive Jack had been. "But Jack compelled Lucifer to tell the truth about what happened to Maggie." There were some details missing, Cas was sure, but they ultimately weren't relevant.

"Anyway, when Jack realized that his father had been lying to him, Lucifer attacked Jack in an attempt to steal his power. I tried to stop him and got injured. My body began to, uh, to leak grace." He didn't bother to tell her how that felt. Neither the painful, tearing feeling as if part of himself was being pulled out of his body, nor the horror of feeling himself weaken and fade was something she needed to know. Unconsciously he began to rub his chest where the last of the wound was still healing. Mary reached out and laid her hand on his other wrist.

"Are you okay?"

He was touched by her warm concern. "I'll be fine," he assured her. She gave his arm a comforting squeeze before waiting for him to continue his tale.

"Dean fought Lucifer and that's when he received many of his injuries. While that was happening, Michael began to, uh..." This part was challenging to explain to a human. "He was consuming my grace. Sam stepped in to try and protect me." Truthfully, Cas was sure that Michael had intended to steal all his grace and that if Sam hadn't risked himself, the archangel would most certainly have killed him. Thinking about Sam and his present state hurt. He didn't deserve to die, and Cas assuredly wasn't worth his sacrifice. Clearing his throat, he forced himself to move past his own grief and guilt to continue.

"And then Michael killed him with his blade. I'm so sorry, Mary." She looked a little shell shocked, but she shook her head, once again rejecting his apology.

"That sounds like Sam," she said sadly, dashing away tears before they could fall. For not the first time, Cas wished that he could offer her some comfort. Angels were not designed to have compassion and although he had grown and changed and learned so much of human emotion, he still struggled with how to show it.

"Did Dean see it happen?" They both knew that losing Sam would devastate Dean, especially so close on the heels of Sam's recent death by the vampires. Cas refused to lie to her.

"Yes," he said regretfully. "It's likely that he saw Billie as she took Sam's soul too." Shifting uncomfortably, Cas could do nothing as he watched Mary process the death of her youngest child and the terrible impact it would have on her eldest. He could see her carefully consider his words and mentally file away each detail, much as her sons tended to do. After a moment, she straightened her shoulders and purposefully swallowed the rest of her coffee.

"So, it was Jack that killed Lucifer and Michael?" she queried, eyes on her empty mug.

"Yes." Again, there was nothing else to say. He saw a muscle twitch as she clenched her jaw.

"Good," she said with a hatred that seemed out of place on her delicate features.