His siblings' cold eyes flash through his mind. The angel blade sinking into his flesh. His human flesh.

Castiel is lying down somewhere. His eyes fly open. It's white and bright and horrible, and he immediately closes his eyes.

Naomi.

She somehow found him again! In a distant corner of his mind, he knows that's impossible, but he doesn't know why. But where else can he be? His siblings must have dragged him back to Heaven to give him some well-deserved torture. But that doesn't mean Castiel can't try and escape. He'll be damned if he lets Naomi rewrite his mind again.

Castiel forces himself to calm his breathing and focus on his surroundings. He's in a bed with scratchy sheets and a stiff mattress. He's cold, and his forehead feels sweaty. There's a low throbbing pain pulsing in his stomach. He hears people walking by several feet away. Something that sounds like an intercom is barking off distantly. There's a beeping sound emanating from something nearby. The sounds are unfamiliar to Heaven. Perhaps he's in someone's personal Heaven.

His thoughts are interrupted by a strange sensation in his arm. There's something sticking into it. Castiel has no idea what it is, or what it's doing to him. Is he being injected with something? The faster he moves, the better. He can't risk giving whatever is flowing into him more time to affect him.

In one motion, Castiel sits up and opens his eyes. It's still bright and white, and his vision is a bit hazy. It must be whatever he's being injected with! Castiel quickly rips out the needle that is in his arm. He was right! Something was going inside him!

He jumps out of bed, pain erupting across his abdomen. He staggers and manages to take a few steps towards the doorway. He tries to straighten, but the pain is even worse, and he runs into the doorframe. He's breathless. Castiel allows himself a couple seconds to catch his breath and manage the pain before looking up. There's a hallway, and he steps into it.

He squints up at the signs hanging from the ceiling, but he can't read them. His vision is still unfocused.

"Sir?" someone calls from behind him.

Castiel stiffens. He was hoping he could avoid fighting for longer than this, but apparently not.

The angel continues, "You shouldn't be out of your room!"

Castiel waits for the angel to get close before striking. He grabs the angel's shirt with one hand and focuses all his limited energy on punching her in the face. He must catch her by surprise because she stumbles backward, and Castiel manages to quickly move away from her in the opposite direction. Well, as quickly as he can manage.

Castiel stumbles down the hallway and turns a corner. Several other angels are racing towards him. His adrenaline spikes, and he wildly looks around. A restroom. He sprints towards it, gets inside, spins around, and locks the door.

The angels bang on the door, and Castiel jumps. The door won't hold forever. What is he going to do!

"Sir! Please, open the door!" a man calls. "You're going to hurt yourself!"

"Fuck you!" Castiel responds.

He stares at the door warily. Any second now the group of angels is going to come barreling in, and he doesn't have a plan. Castiel takes a quick assessment of the bathroom, but there's nothing in here he can use as a weapon. Maybe he can take the soap dispenser off of the wall and use that?

There's whispering outside the door, and Castiel stiffens, bracing himself for an attack. What could they possibly be scheming? It doesn't take a whole plan to break a door. He strains his ears to try and make out what they're saying, but his adrenaline is pounding too loudly. He hears one of them run off. There's a sinking feeling tugging at his gut. What's going on?

"Sir." A woman's voice now. "Please just open the door. We're trying to help."

"I'm not falling for your tricks!" Castiel shouts. How stupid do they think he is?

More running footsteps. More whispering.

"Cas?" Dean's voice.

Castiel's blood runs cold. No, they didn't. "Fuck off!" Castiel yells.

"Cas," Dean's voice says again. Gentler. "Buddy, it's me, okay? You gotta open up."

"I'm not stupid," Castiel tells the voice.

"Yeah, Cas, I know." A pause. "Okay, here, let me prove to you it's me."

"How?"

"I'll tell you something that only we know. Something that's just between us."

"…Okay."

There's some whispering and shuffling before Dean speaks again, "Remember when you planned on killing Raphael? The first time?"

Castiel frowns. He doesn't.

"It was years ago. And you said catching a butterfly in a hurricane would be easier."

Ah, yes. Castiel remembers.

Dean's voice continues, "And then you were just going to sit in a chair all night instead of doing something fun on—what you thought was—your last night on Earth."

Castiel stiffens. He's never told anyone this. No one besides Dean knows about this night. Would Naomi know about it with all of her tricks? But there is still that part of him saying Naomi is no longer a threat. So…is this Dean?

"And so," Dean's voice says, "I took you to a brothel since you'd never had sex." There's a chuckle, and it really sounds like Dean. His laughter is warm and light. "Don't really know why I thought that would be a good idea. But, uh, anyway. You struck out with a prostitute because you brought up her fucking dad." Dean chuckles again. "Oh, boy, that never gets old."

Castiel realizes he's smiling. He tentatively steps towards the door. "Dean?"

"Yeah, Cas, it's me."

It's as if someone flicked a switch, and Castiel's adrenaline all but disappears. His aches and pains hit him full force. He has a pounding headache. He's thirsty. But most of all: his stomach. The pain is sharp and pulses along with his heartbeat. It makes him dizzy, and he has to grip onto the sink. He looks up at the mirror, and his hair is plastered to his sweaty forehead. His eyes are bloodshot and wild. He looks insane.

Or is this what they want him to think?

"Cas?" Dean asks. There's an edge to his voice. He's worried.

"Dean." Castiel swallows. "What's happening?"

"I need you to open the door."

"I'm scared," Castiel admits.

"I know, Cas. I know. But you're going to have to trust me, okay? Can you do that?"

"Dean, I'm in pain."

"Shit," Dean says quietly. Then louder, "Okay, just, uh, open up, okay? Please, Cas. I can help you."

"Are the others there?"

"You just have to trust me, Cas."

Castiel blows out a shaky breath and looks back at himself in the mirror. He looks ragged and sick. But he does trust Dean. He will always trust Dean. And if this is some trick…well, he'd rather trust Dean a thousand times over and pay for it than risk missing one time it's real. He pushes himself off the sink and barely makes it over to the door. He leans one hand against the wall as he unlocks the door. He slowly opens it.

Dean is there. The relief is so powerful, Castiel's knees give out. Dean rushes forward and catches him. "I got you," he says softly.

Tears prickle Castiel's eyes. How had he doubted this wasn't Dean? "Dean."

"I'm here, it's okay. We need to go back to your room now. Can you try and walk with me?"

Castiel nods while holding onto Dean for support and shuffles forward.

It feels as if Castiel is walking on a boat, and black spots fill his vision. He focuses on watching their feet as Dean guides him back to his room. Castiel had been so preoccupied he didn't even realize he's barefoot. He concentrates on the linoleum tiles and Dean's warmth. He can hear the others following them, and he won't lie and say he isn't scared. But he knows Dean wouldn't lead him back to be tortured by angels.

They round the corner into his room, and Castiel feels light-headed and even more unsteady. "Dean," he says weakly.

"Almost there, Cas."

"Good. I'm going to pass out."

Dean tenses. "Wait, right now?"

"Yes."

He has a headache. His mouth is dry, and his stomach hurts. He doesn't know where he is and that frightens him. He begins to open his eyes, but it's too bright and that also hurts. So he keeps them shut and tries to remember.

There was something…something warm and good, but he can't quite place what that is.

It was cold.

There was blood.

A silver blade glinting in the moonlight.

Betrayal.

The memories come rushing in. Castiel remembers arriving at Heaven's gate. His siblings betraying him and taking his grace. His grace! This is why he feels horrible. He's human. His sister's voice rings through his mind.

Taking what little value you have left.

She was right. He is nothing without his grace. Castiel won't be of any help to the Winchesters. Now he'll need help from them. And that's the last thing they need; one more thing to take care of. They've done enough. More than enough.

Castiel swallows, but it does little to take away the dryness in his mouth. The stab wound is still throbbing and his headache is worse. He wishes he was dead.

…How isn't he dead?

He struggles to remember what happened after he fell onto the ground, staring at the stars. He remembers drifting off and something warm coming and saving him. Had one of his siblings taken pity on him? But then why hadn't they healed him? Perhaps a good Samaritan found him and called the paramedics. That's the most likely scenario.

Something is inside his arm. It doesn't hurt exactly, but it's uncomfortable. There is also something warm clasping around his hand on the same arm. Whatever it is has been around his hand for a while, because Castiel's palm is sweaty. He needs to see what's going on.

Castiel reluctantly opens his eyes. He blinks as he adjusts to the brightness. He looks up at a bland, white ceiling. He'd mistake it for Heaven if things didn't feel like Earth. Heaven is too ethereal and manicured to feel like this.

He licks his dry lips before turning to look down at his arm. A needle is sticking in it. There's a tube from the needle leading to a bag with clear liquid attached to a slim metal pole. It's an IV.

Castiel wishes he could think faster. It's as if his thoughts are stuck in a giant jar of honey, and connecting his thoughts with what he's seeing is slow and sticky.

Castiel sighs in frustration as he slowly looks back down at his arm. There's a hand holding his hand. The hand belongs to a man. The man is asleep and leaning against the small railing to Castiel's bed. That man is Dean.

Castiel's heart skips a beat. Dean is here. Dean is holding his hand. Castiel has so many questions, but he doesn't want to wake Dean. So he watches. Dean finds it creepy when Castiel watches him sleep, but Dean decided to hold Castiel's hand, so this is just the consequences of his actions.

The hard lines on Dean's face are smoothed out. His hair is messy. He looks so soft. Fondness warms Castiel's chest, and he doesn't know how he manages to fall more in love with Dean every day, but he does.

Footsteps approach, and a nurse appears beside Castiel's bed. She smiles at him tightly.

"Hello," Castiel whispers, trying not to wake Dean.

"Hi," she whispers back briskly. Castiel isn't sure if she's in a bad mood, or if this is her usual attitude. Which would be strange for a nurse, but he decides he's too tired to care. The nurse grabs the clipboard at the end of Castiel's bed and jots a few things down. "Thought you were awake," she continues. "How do you feel?"

She asks him routine questions. He's been in the hospital for nearly two weeks. She tells him he woke up a couple days ago completely delirious and punched one of her colleagues. Castiel feels terrible and apologizes at least ten times. She tells him it's fine and warms up to him a bit. She also says Dean's been with him every day. She doesn't stay long, and Castiel returns his attention to Dean.

Dean looks just as peaceful as before. Castiel isn't quite sure how long he watches, but eventually Dean's nose twitches, and he's lifting his head off his free arm that's resting on the bedside railing. Dean's eyes are unfocused, but he immediately looks in Castiel's direction. He freezes when their eyes meet then blinks a few times and leans forward.

"Hey," Castiel says softly.

"Hey," Dean answers. His eyes flick up to the monitors beside Castiel's bed before looking back down. "How do you feel?"

"Tired. And it hurts where I was stabbed."

Dean gives him a small smile. "Yeah, well, no surprise there." Dean's smile vanishes as he studies Castiel a second more. "But nothing unusual, right?"

Castiel shakes his head. "Nothing unusual." Except that he's human. He will never get used to the feeling.

Dean smiles again. "Good. That's good." He licks his lips then stiffens, his eyes falling to their hands. "Uh, sorry, I just, uh, well, you kinda gave everyone a scare a couple days ago, so I thought if I held your hand…it would…I dunno actually." Dean chuckles nervously. He's still looking at their hands but doesn't let go.

"Ah, yes." Castiel grimaces and tightens his grip on Dean's hand, hoping Dean gets what he's trying to say: Don't let go. "My nurse told me about that."

Dean frowns and looks up. "Your nurse? How long have you been awake?"

Castiel answers, "No more than thirty minutes."

"And you weren't going to wake me up?"

"You looked like you needed rest."

Dean rolls his eyes. He stares at Castiel a moment before scooting forward in his chair. "Yeah, that was…" Something flashes across his face for a moment. It looks like…fear.

"I'm okay now, Dean." Castiel squeezes Dean's hand.

Dean grins and squeezes back. "Yeah. Yeah, you are." Dean is searching Castiel's face again. Castiel isn't quite sure why. He's not sure what Dean's looking for. He's not sure why Dean is trying to look for something in the first place either. "Cas… Cas, just don't do that again."

"What? Get stabbed. I will try not to."

Dean smiles. "No, smartass, not that." He sobers. "Don't…" And he's staring again. He's blinking back tears and manages to keep them away. Then his face hardens. "You didn't do that on purpose, did you?"

"Why would I want to be stabbed, Dean?" Castiel bites back a bit harsher than he means to.

"I don't know, Cas, but walking up to Heaven's gate was kind of stupid. What did you think was going to happen?"

That my brothers and sisters would hear my repentance. That they would take mercy. That I would be granted forgiveness and be able to fix my mistakes. Is it so wrong to have faith in them?

Apparently so.

Tears suddenly flood Castiel's eyes, and he looks back up at the ceiling. He is stupid, isn't he? Why did he think he could ever be forgiven?

"Shit, Cas. I didn't mean it like that." Dean places his other hand over theirs. "You—you always leave, and I…" There's a pause. "Why?" It's quiet, and Dean sounds a breath away from crying.

Castiel finally turns to him, the tears not fully gone from his own eyes. Dean is staring at him openly. Vulnerable. It's a look Castiel rarely sees. Dean is scared.

"Why what?" Castiel asks.

Dean's searching again. "Why did you leave?" And there it is. That's what Dean's been looking for.

"You don't need me," Castiel answers. He finds it difficult to meet Dean's gaze, and his eyes wander around the room.

"The hell I don't!"

Castiel looks back at Dean. "You don't," he says firmly. "Dean, there is no apocalypse or end of the world or any other big evil out there. You don't need my help anymore."

"Need your help? What are you talking about?"

Why is this so difficult for Dean to understand? What is he not getting? Castiel huffs in frustration. He's going to have to be direct. "I'm no longer useful to you. Especially now that I'm human."

"What! Useful? You're always useful. And! Even if you weren't, that doesn't matter! You're family, Cas. Don't you get that?"

"I don't—" Castiel squints. "What?"

"Cas, I need you because you're you. Not because you're an angel or useful or super smart or good at fighting or whatever. I need Cas. That's it. Plain and simple."

Castiel isn't quite sure what's happening. He's also not quite sure why he's fighting Dean on this either. "No, you don't. You can function perfectly fine without me."

"Uh, no, I cannot." Dean chuckles bitterly before licking his lips. He fixes Castiel with a firm look before speaking, "You were pretty touch-and-go there for a while, and let me tell you something, buddy. I was about to lose my shit, okay? I am not good without you."

"That—" That can't be true. Dean is strong. He and Sam have Hunted alone together for years. Castiel isn't required. "You—" Dean doesn't need him. But… Dean isn't lying. Why is he saying this? What's happening?

Dean pulls Castiel's hand closer to himself. "You really think I don't want you?" he says softer than before.

"Well, I—" Castiel begins but suddenly stops. Want? Dean wants him? That's something else entirely from need. "What did you say?"

Dean frowns but says, "You really think I don't want you?"

"Oh." Is all Castiel says.

"Cas, I—"

"Cas!"

Cas quickly turns to the sound. Sam is rushing into the room.

"Oh my god," he says. "Are you okay? Dean told me happened, and I got back as soon as I could."

Castiel feels Dean drop his hand. Now it's cold.