Before long, Dean was forced to slow down by yet another painful stitch in his side. But he refused to stop walking. The sun set quickly, and soon darkness fell. With it, the scant heat of the day quickly dissipated. Now, Dean could see his breath. Not good. Cass was only wearing a light jacket. With the way the temperature was dropping, he'd be shivering before much longer. Dean kept moving and before long, he had entered the city.

Soon, Dean was deep in the city, and not the best part of it. Out of necessity, he'd slowed to a brisk walk. The sidewalks were crowded. When he had first arrived in New York, he'd honestly believed that the city was designed to confuse tourists and newcomers. There were so many streets and alleys, so many ways Castiel could have gone. But Dean continued going straight ahead. Please, Castiel! Please, let me find you!

The city swirled around him, oblivious to what he was thinking or feeling. Buildings loomed overhead, casting a perpetual shadow on those below. The wind whirled and eddied, broken by the buildings. It picked up bits of rubbish in the streets, tossing it about in little whirlwinds of debris that rose up like birds on wing, only to fall once more and be trampled. The flow of people on the sidewalk never ended. Like a continuing river, nameless people passed Dean in the street, each lost in his or her own world, paying no attention to the lonely stranger or his frantic search.

Dean came to a dead end and looked around, desperate. The city filled his senses with confusion. He could hear the chatter of conversation, scattered bits of music, horns, engines, and the sound of heavy equipment from construction down the street. The air was ripe with the cooking smells from various restaurants he passed. For a moment, the smell of food would cover the scent of exhaust and pavement and motor oil, mixed with the unavoidable aroma of too many people living closely together. Sometimes, the food smells from competing restaurants mixed together to create something mouthwatering. Usually, it just clashed. A couple pushed past him, babbling together in a foreign tongue. Dean turned in a slow circle, jostled and bumped by people going by, scanning for a familiar figure among the masses. But he saw no sign of Castiel.

The air quickly grew chill. Dean zipped up his jacket, glad he'd had the presence of mind to grab it on the way out. But what about Castiel? Was he cold? Had he ducked into a shop for warmth? As he hadn't eaten anything all day, surely he was hungry. But Cass had no wallet, no money. He was illiterate and couldn't really count past ten. Even if Cass had a wallet full of cash, would he understand how to buy food? Would he know where or how to seek shelter for the night? Somehow, Dean didn't think so.

But now he had a problem. The sidewalk he'd been following, the straightest path from his apartment, suddenly came to an end as the entire street was closed off for construction. Dean could turn left or right, but couldn't go straight ahead. Which path did Cass choose? Picking the correct path could bring him closer to the missing man. But choosing poorly would only take him farther away.

Flashing lights to his right drew his eye. Dean turned in that direction. It was as good as any other.

The flashing lights turned out to be an ambulance and police cars. A figure was on a gurney, about to be loaded into an ambulance. Dean saw cowboy boots sticking out over the bottom of the gurney from the man's bundled legs, a head of dark hair… Castiel!

"Cass! Wait!" Dean yelled, bolting for the ambulance. But as he approached, he caught sight of the patient's face. The man, it appeared, had been in quite the scrap. His face was swollen, battered, bruised and bloody. But it wasn't Castiel. Dean breathed a sigh of relief, even as his anxiety returned. If that wasn't Cass on the gurney, then where was he?

Dean had turned away and was about to continue his search when his eye was caught by the woman speaking with the police. She also had a bruised and bleeding face, a swelling mark marring her cheek and a split lip. From the way she was dressed, Dean realized she was likely a prostitute.

"It's like I said," she was telling the officer. "Barney hit me, and the next thing I know, this attractive man comes out of nowhere. He beat the shit out of Barney, then he came to me. Didn't say a word, just looked at me with those sexy blue eyes, made sure I was alright, and walked off."

"Excuse me!" Dean took the woman's arm, turning her to face him, ignoring the irritation of the officer. "The attractive man with the blue eyes, did he have on blue jacket, blue jeans and cowboy boots? He'd be about my age, dark hair, talks kind of weird?"

Her eyes grew wide. "I never heard him talk, but the rest of that, yeah! How did you…?"

"I've been looking for him," Dean explained quickly. "Please, it's very important that I find him. Can you tell me where he went?"

She immediately became suspicious. "Why?"

"That's my friend Castiel," Dean explained. "He was recently in a bad accident and he's got a head injury. I was looking after him, but he wandered off. If I don't find him soon, he could get lost or hurt! Please, would you just tell me where he went?"

The woman looked hard at him, but apparently decided he was telling the truth because she nodded. "Sure, hon." She pointed down a narrow alleyway that Dean hadn't even considered. "Last I saw him, he was going that way. When you find him, give him a big hug from me. I was so shocked I didn't even say thank you."

"Thank you!" Dean called, already jogging towards the alley. He said a silent prayer of thanks that, once more, his uncanny luck had turned good. He was on the right track! Leave it to Cass to stop and beat the hell out of a pimp slapping around a hooker. If he hadn't, Dean would have had no idea what direction to go. He might never have found Castiel.

The fact that he still might not find him was something Dean refused to think about.

Dean emerged from the alley and looked hopefully around. No sign of Cass. Worried, he started down the sidewalk. Ahead of him loomed the gaping entrance to the subway. Surely Cass wouldn't have gotten on the subway? If he had, Dean wouldn't be able to follow. He'd have no way to know what train he got on, or where he'd gotten off. Dean stood staring at the entrance, clenching his fists in indecision. Should he go down, ask around, see if maybe someone had noticed Cass? Or should he keep checking on the surface streets?

Then he noticed the homeless man sitting just inside the entrance to the subway. The man was huddled in blankets and rags, and on top of his coverings was a familiar blue jacket.

Dean dug into his wallet, produced his last twenty, and pressed it into the man's hand. "Can you tell me who gave you that jacket?" he asked. "Was it a guy about this tall, dark hair, blue eyes?"

"Yeah, yeah," the man wheezed. He coughed harshly.

"Did you see which way he went? Did he go into the subway?"

"No," the man replied. "He heard me cough and took of his coat and gave it to me just like that. Didn't say a word. Then he just left."

"Which way did he go?"

The man pointed. "Went down the sidewalk that way." He picked up the jacket and handed it to Dean. "Give him this back. It's too small for me anyway, and I'll be warm enough here. He was shivering before he gave it to me. Don't think he knows what he's doing, to be honest. He looked really upset and lost."

"Thank you so much!" Dean said, taking the jacket.

The man waved him off. "Don't mention it, kid. Go find your friend. Ask Betty over there by the dumpster where he went, she was trying to talk to him."

Betty turned out to be a homeless woman. She was clearly mentally ill, talking to Dean and several people who weren't there. But Betty directed him two blocks down to another homeless man called Ed, who sent him across the street to Jack.

Jack turned out to be a male prostitute. Once Dean convinced him he wasn't looking for a date and described Castiel, Jack had pointed down the street. "I told him to head down that way a few blocks towards the bus stop. Honestly, I thought he was a lost tourist, except he wouldn't talk. He scared off a couple of assholes who were bothering me, but after that, he just looked so sad and lost. I sent him to a bus stop. Figured he could at least look at the map there, maybe figure out where he was. Someone like him doesn't belong in this part of town." The man's hazel eyes gave Dean a once-over. "For that matter, neither do you. Go find your friend and both of you get out of here. It's not safe here."

"Thanks." Dean wished he had more to offer the other man. There, but for the grace of God, go I, he thought. Of course, if Bela got him fired, becoming a street walker was still a viable career option.

Dean moved quickly down the street, heading for the bus stop, grateful he was leaving the red light district behind him. Once again, the sidewalks had become crowded. He pushed through a throng of laughing people heading together down the street and suddenly, there was Castiel.

Cass was leaning against the bus stop with his arms wrapped around himself and his gaze on the sidewalk, looking unhappy. The noisy city swarmed around him, pedestrians pushing past and traffic on the street zooming by, oblivious to the man who had somehow become the center of Dean's life. But for Dean, the city had grown quiet and empty. All he could see was this man, this wonderful, beautiful man that stood all alone, shivering in the cold with no hint that he'd registered Dean's presence.

Dean said a silent prayer of thanks, wiped at his face with his shirt, came closer and cleared his throat. "Cass?" he began when Castiel looked up. "Hey! I've been looking for you."

Castiel didn't respond. He stood as he was, looking cold and lost as he gazed silently at Dean.

"I know I just fucked up big time with you," Dean said, "but the fact is, you're in danger, buddy. You know those two agents, Crowley and Morningstar? Turns out they're not really Homeland Security. The cops are looking for them, but no one knows who they are. I also don't know why those two want you. All I know is that I have to keep you safe."

Silence. Castiel stood as if frozen, teeth chattering, his eyes locked with Dean's.

Dean looked away first, staring at the sidewalk. "Listen, this isn't about me and you. When I took you from the hospital, I knew I was taking a chance. I mean, look at you! You're way out of the league of a nobody like me. But even more than how you look, Cass, you're just amazing. You filled up this empty gaping hole in my life. I never thought that would happen. You would just look at me, and I always felt like you saw so much more than what was really there. The way you'd smile at me, trusted me?" He shook his head. "I always knew I didn't deserve it. Didn't deserve you. And now, I guess you know that, too." He swallowed, still not daring to look up. "I never thought things would go this far. And I'm sorry that it's awkward between us now. But I need you to come back, ok? Please, Cass, just come home? You'll be warm and safe, we'll get you something to eat, and tomorrow, we'll talk. You can decide what you want to do, where you'll go from there. I just want you to be safe, ok? I swear, I won't say another thing about you and me or put any sort of pressure on you."

Castiel continued to stare at him, and Dean grimaced. "I'm sorry, alright? But don't you understand, you're in real danger here. People are looking for you, and I don't believe for one minute that they've got your best interests in mind. Even if you're… whatever Sam believes you are, it doesn't matter. I won't let anyone hurt you. But you're out here freezing." He held out the coat towards Castiel, who made no move to take it. "You're so alone," Dean continued. "You don't seem to understand much of what the world is like. If you don't come home with me, you'll get sick, or hurt, or maybe even worse! Please, Castiel, just come back for tonight? If you don't want to stay with me, we'll figure something out. Just please, please come back?"

For a long moment, Castiel simply stood as he was. Then he slowly came closer. The blue eyes were solemn as they regarded Dean. Ignoring the coat Dean still held up, he stepped forward and reached out both hands towards Dean's face. They felt like blocks of ice as they touched Dean's skin. The hands moved, and Dean realized Castiel was using his thumbs to wipe away the tears that Dean hadn't realized were flowing. "It's alright," Castiel said quietly. "I wish I understood what you're trying to say."

"What I'm trying to say is that I know I pushed you too hard and too fast. I get that. And I hope that we can move past this whole thing and be friends again, like we were." Dean finally dared to look up, ignoring the tears that now flowed freely. "I need you, Castiel! Even if we're just friends, I need you in my life. You know I'm in love with you, buddy, and that's something I gotta deal with. But first, I just need to make sure you're safe. And that means you gotta come home, alright?"

Dean was braced for Castiel to refuse. His mind was already racing, trying to come up with the words that could sway Cass, convince him to come home. His muscles were tense, prepared to grab Cass and physically drag him back if necessary. But instead, Cass simply nodded. "Alright."

It was back, that gummy smile that made Dean feel weak in the knees. The chattering teeth and lips that had gone purplish with cold were definitely detractions, but at least Cass was finally safe. Dean said a quick prayer of thanks. Suddenly shy, he looked down and thrust Cass's jacket at him again. "The guy you gave this to said to give it back," he said. "You really made an impression on him, Cass. Hell, you made an impression on a lot of people tonight! I'm supposed to give you a hug from the prostitute whose pimp you kicked the shit out of." He shook his head, chuckling. "You're something else, aren't you? Whatever, just put this on before you freeze to death, you dumbass!"

Castiel accepted the jacket and quickly shrugged into it. "Dumbass," he called.

"Asshole," Dean retorted. Looking up, he smiled, and Cass's smile grew wider in return. Then Dean tentatively reached out and pulled him into a hug. "From the prostitute with the beat-down pimp," he explained, quickly letting go.

Castiel's arms were fastened firmly around him, holding him tight. Dean clung to him again, not wanting to let go. But then he felt the other man shiver. The light jacket he now wore offered little protection from the cold. "Come on," he urged, pulling away. "Let's get you home."

"Alright."

The two started down the street. Dean looked around, getting his bearings. He'd gotten to know most of New York, but he wasn't familiar with this part. Still, he thought he had a fairly good idea of where they were. Dean practically skipped along the edge of the sidewalk, so happy to have found Castiel again that he thought his heart might burst.

That was when someone running through the crowded sidewalk shoved his way through the narrow gap between them, bumping hard into Dean.

Already off-balance from walking on the edge of the sidewalk, Dean fell off, stumbling out into the street. There was a loud blare of a horn, and the squeal of tires. Dean looked up to see the grill of a city bus bearing down on him.

All of his life flashed before Dean's eyes as the grill loomed, blocking out the entire world. Too fast. Too close to dodge. Dean threw his hands up over his face and prepared for the hit.

But then suddenly Castiel was there, jumping between Dean and the bus, throwing his arms around Dean.

The impact was tremendous, even though the driver was standing on the brakes. The inertia of the bus brought the grill slamming into Castiel's unprotected body. Dean heard the other man grunt in pain, heard the snap of bones as they were both thrown forward, Castiel's body cushioning Dean, bearing the brunt of the terrible impact until they both flew into the street…

…Except that didn't happen. Even as the horrible scene flashed through Dean's mind, the world was suddenly quiet and still. He was in Castiel's arms, clinging in fright to the other man, and they were both surrounded by a wall of blackness that pressed against him.

What the fuck?

Dean looked up, peered at the wall, and finally realized what he was seeing. Feathers. Black feathers, glistening with a faint rainbow sheen, were all around them. They formed a solid wall around him and Castiel, soft as a cloud, muffling all sound and almost seeming to glow. Somehow, he and Cass had been cushioned from the hit of the bus by this mysterious wall of feathers that had come out of nowhere to protect them. Dean could only blink stupidly, staring at the feathers, his mind trying and failing to understand what was going on.

But Castiel didn't seem surprised at all. At some point during Dean's panic-induced hallucination, he'd gathered Dean up and was carrying him bridal style. Without a word he simply started walking. How could he even see where they were going? They were still surrounded by the curved wall of feathers that was somehow wrapped around them. Dean looked up and realized the truth. Of course. The wall wasn't a sphere, more like a curved tube that the two of them were somehow tucked inside of. Cass was tall enough that he could see over top of it while Dean, cradled in his arms, could only see feathers. Looking up, Dean could see the familiar night sky through the circle of feathers. Except that wasn't familiar, either. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something about the sky seemed different. Almost alien.

Cass reached his destination, and the feathered wall divided neatly in two, revealing itself to be a set of massive black wings that originated from somewhere behind him. As Cass stopped, still smiling gently down at Dean in his arms, the wings folded back and vanished.

The moment they did, the noise of the city returned.

Dean looked around. They had moved several blocks down from the bus stop. He could see the bus driver and several people milling around, looking under the bus and all around in confusion. Dean wondered what they'd seen? It was obvious that they'd seen Dean nearly get struck. But then what? Had he disappeared? Had anyone seen Castiel? What must they be thinking?

Dean shouldn't be alive right now. He should be a bleeding mess in the street and a blurb on the news. But instead…

Instead…

Shocked, Dean looked back at Castiel. "Cass?" he squeaked. "You… You're…!"

Castiel was looking down at Dean with that familiar adoring smile. He gently lowered Dean's feet to the ground, helpfully holding onto him as Dean swayed, shock making him weak. Dean clung to Castiel, shaking, still not entirely sure of what had just happened. "Cass, those were wings! Those were fucking wings, Cass! You're an angel? Cass, what the fuck is going on?!"

"Escort," Castiel explained. "Castiel Novak escort Dean Winchester!"