A/N: Shh, this is going to be our little secret. Okay? :) I couldn't force all of you to wait a week for this chapter since it's so short when the others are quite a bit longer. So, as always, enjoy, my lovelies.

Wretched Moments

Pieces of a conversation between Dean and Gabe later filtered in under the small gap in the door as Cas slowly regained consciousness. His head lulled to the side again. He could feel Dean's supportive memory form mattress underneath him once more. Someone had obviously moved him back to bed. He licked his chapped lips slightly and blinked a few times, fighting against his extreme exhaustion.

"Well, that went about as well as I thought it would," Dean remarked from the hallway.

"Yeah." Gabe sounded withdrawn for some reason and so very unlike himself.

"Why didn't you tell him earlier, though, man?"

"I'm sorry." He clearly wasn't. "Did you not just see how my brother reacted, Winchester?"

"I saw it, but we could have—"

"Unbelievable."

"Hey, no, man. I get it. Okay? I do." A loud huff slipped beneath the door. "I lie to Sammy a lot too in the name of protecting him, but—shit, we can't just keep lying to them all the time, though. Sometimes we have to, you know, trust them and stuff."

"Trust them and stuff? Wow! They did test you before they let you in the bunker, right?"

"Ha-ha, very funny, asshole."

Coughing quietly, Cas missed his brother's response. He groaned as he felt the tightness in his chest worsen. He was getting sicker unfortunately. Though, maybe this was for the best. Maybe karma had finally reared its ugly head, and he was going to get his just sweets. Or however that saying went.

"He's going to be okay, right, Gabe?"

Blue eyes snapped to the door again.

"Yeah. Course he is. Because we're going to move mountains, remember?"

Dean's subdued chuckles seeped beneath the door. "Damn straight we are." A heavy sigh then immediately filtered inside. "So."

"Yep."

"Is there anything I can do? Like, let him use our bond or some such shit like that?"

"No." His brother lowered his voice just a bit before he added, "Unfortunately."

"Peachy."

"Just, you know, sit with him. Do the human crap you guys do whenever one of you is sick. And if he gets really bad, well, you know how to reach me."

"So, you are going to see Balthazar then?"

"Yeah." Gabriel sighed heavily. "Because I'm a glutton for punishment today, it seems, and feel like getting my heart ripped out some more by watching another brother helplessly."

"Yeah."

Another long pause sat heavy outside the room.

"Do you think we should—"

"Let them see one another? Probably. But not right now. Not with Cas so ill and Balthazar . . ."

"Yeah."

Cas's brows furrowed. What did that mean? With Balthazar being what? Was the angel injured as well? Having issues with his Grace? What?

"I think I'll let Jack and Claire see Cas sometime today."

"He'd likely appreciate that, I'm sure."

"Yeah." It was Dean's turn to sigh heavily. "Fuck, man, I just . . ."

"Listen to me. We will figure this out. Understand?"

"Gabe, I mean, if what you were saying earlier was—how am I supposed to keep my shit together and stay calm when we don't even know what the hell this is?"

"Dean, buddy, it's simple. Okay? You don't." He paused for half a second. "Obviously don't panic him, but just hold him. Tell him you love him. All that shit you give Sam crap for—do that."

"What about you?"

"Me?" Gabriel forced a dark laugh. "I'll do whatever it takes to save him. No matter the cost. I'm the archangel Fucking Gabriel. It's about time I acted like it."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I'll break bread with Michael. I'll talk to fucking Naomi. Go to Hell myself and speak to the demons. Hell, I'll beg Dad if it comes down to it."

"Really? You'd talk to Chuck?"

"Winchester, at this point, I'd find a damn crossroads demon if it meant saving Cas. Trust me. And Hellhounds—they don't fucking scare me. Not when I still remember Luci's trick with them."

"There's a trick?"

"There's always a trick."

"Wait. You know this, but you can't figure out the difference between a vampire and a—"

"I'm an archangel, Dean, not a Hunter."

"Yeah. Obviously."

"You know what? Just for that—no pie."

"Good. I didn't want your asshole pie anyway, dumbass."

"Good."

"Perfect."

"Awesome."

The door then creaked open followed by boots thumping against the floor. Cas grimaced at the light that flooded the room as someone walked in. He blinked against it and waited. The door closed silently behind the person a moment later, allowing him to see his visitor properly.

"There you are, Sunshine." Dean smiled at him, his soul flickering with bright light like a strobe light, as he approached. He paused for a moment and motioned to the clear liquid filled glass on the nightstand. "Think you can sit up for a minute and drink this?"

Cas huffed in response and pushed himself up, hissing at the annoying pain that had resulted in the action. Stupid sickness. Just once he wanted to move without it hurting anymore. He hated this. Humanity sucked. Though there were likely some aspects he could enjoy immensely, illness was not one. His frown deepened as he watched Dean hold the straw close to his lips.

"I can do that."

"I'm sure you can, but just—let me take care of you, will you?"

The angel sipped the drink silently a moment later, finding his mind wander back to earlier. The drink was still the pleasant taste of something fruity that his brother had offered him. He took a few more sips, glaring when Dean took it back from him unexpectedly. He wasn't done!

"Hey, don't give me that. Jody told me all about what happened earlier. I'm just trying to prevent that from happening again." He quietly turned away to set the glass down. "We can try again in a bit."

"Fine."

Dean gave him a soft smile, gently sitting on the edge of the bed. "Other than being thirsty, having a fever, and collapsing, how you doin'?"

Castiel shook his head, though. No. They were not going to do this. Not this time.

"What's wrong with Balthazar?"

He caught Dean's surprise before the green-eyed hunter rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Caught that, did you?"

"I am a Celestial being, Dean," he replied grumpily. His mood was souring the more he was forced to wait for an answer. He frankly felt like shit, and Dean was unfortunately not helping at all.

"I know." The green eyes fell to the blanket as the corners of the man's lips quirked slightly upwards as if he was fighting off a smile.

"I fail to see what's so funny," groused the Seraph.

"Nothing, Cas. Just—I forgot how—never mind." He sighed heavily and started again. "Um, well, I don't think anything's wrong with him, really. He's just sort of in shock about being back now. He's still the sarcastic dick he always was. Just a little bit more restrained than usual."

"Then why doesn't Gabriel believe I should see him?"

"Honestly?" Dean stared at him flabbergasted. "Uh, well, let's see—because you killed him and tore yourself up about it for years? Because you just had some sort of fit at hearing about his return? Take your pick there, buddy. And while I didn't agree before, I do now. You don't need that."

Cas growled under his breath, flopping his head back against the headboard. "I'm tired of hearing what I do and do not need, Dean."

"Yeah, well, I'm tired of losing you, Cas. So, you know, there's that."

Blue eyes sharply darted to his human. Something was different about the Hunter now. He couldn't put his finger on it, but it was clearly there. Something had changed.

"Who was Rogers?"

"What?"

"Gabriel asked you about a session with Rogers. Who is this Rogers?"

Confused for half a second, Dean stared at him. He then shrugged, clearly deciding whatever it was he was thinking could wait. "He was a children's TV host out in Pittsburgh. Sammy and I used to watch it sometimes. It was meant to help kids deal with their emotions and stuff."

Cas nodded. Yes, he vaguely could recall something about a show like that from his so-called upgrade from Metatron years back. Something about a red cardigan and puppets, he thought. He felt his Grace shrivel inside at the mental image, but his mind quickly returned to his earlier irritation.

"You obviously didn't watch enough of it, then," the grumpy angel stated bluntly, "considering your 'emotional constipation' you suffer."

"Wow." Dean huffed a laugh, his tongue pressed against his cheek again. "Not sure if I'm liking this Grumpy Cas."

"Yes, well, I'm not particularly liking you either right now," he grumbled back, craning his neck as he tried to concentrate on his little bit of Grace that had shrunken to the very deepest part of his vessel. He could almost reach it. It was just right there. And if he could reach it, then he could fix this and feel more like himself again. "With your . . . perfect green eyes and flashing disco ball soul and stupid smile and painted freckles and . . ." His Grace retreated further into his vessel, causing his eyes to flash angrily. "You think too loudly. All the time."

"Anything else?" Dean replied, clearing his throat quietly.

"Yes. You snore," he huffed, still focusing all his energy on reaching his failing Grace. "I've heard beavers bring trees down quieter than your snoring."

"All right." The green-eyed man inhaled sharply, his jaw working back and forth with a pinched face. "Any other complaints?"

"Many," Cas deadpanned, feeling his stomach start to roll with the intense waves of nausea again. He pushed through it, though, focusing on his complaints instead. He could do this. It just took discipline. He was stronger than his illness. "Your excuse for 'cleaning your pipes' for example."

Dean made a choking-like sound but motioned for him to continue.

"Your pipes do not need cleaned, so there's no need to do it. Not when I am fully capable of pressing two fingers to you and eradicating anything that would—"

Loud belly laughs burst out of Dean. The man doubled over, shaking the bed with his laughter.

Cas's eyes widened slightly as he felt his stomach lurch violently in response to the rocking bed. Oh no! His eyes squeezed shut, and he frantically fought for any bit of Grace to quell the formidable nausea. When Dean slapped a hand against his shoulder and jostled him, it broke his concentration. His eyes flew open, and he shoved Dean hard from him, panicking inside. He heard Dean's surprised yelp followed by a hard thump but ignored it as he snatched the bucket from the nightstand and vomited back up the stupid fruity water again.

Absolutely fucking horrible!

He coughed up more water, his body shaking once again as the chills seeped in.

"Oh," he heard quietly from the floor.

Oh? That was all the assbutt had to say? Oh?!

When he heard the door open a moment later, he half-squinted through the wretched bright light before he openly glared murderously at the tall silhouetted intruder.

"Close the damn door," the angel growled, feeling his headache return with a vengeance.

"Uh . . ."

"Just do it, Sammy," Dean replied quietly, slowly picking himself up off the floor.

"Dean, you're—"

"Yeah I know." The green-eyed Hunter walked back to the bed, though, pressing a hand to the back of his head with a wince. "You good, Cas?"

"Good?" snapped the Seraph, his temper in control. "No, Dean. I am not 'good' currently." He closed his eyes and tried to even out his breathing. His head felt like someone was repeatedly stabbing an Angel Blade in it. His joints hurt. His bones hurt more. And he was fucking cold. He hated being cold. "I've found myself captive to the brutal bitch that is nausea because of you and your assbutt ways."

"I know, man. I'm sorry." Dean then glanced at his brother, his hand falling to his side quietly. "Something you need, Sam?"

"No. Not really. I just heard the noise."

The eldest Winchester nodded, forcing his smile. "Yeah. I'll bet." He then jerked at the tray in the taller man's hands. "What about that, though? Gabe send it?"

"No. Jody. She thought we should take his temperature soon because she thought he looked a little flushed earlier."

"My temperature is fine," Cas ground out. He was not completely useless. He was still an angel.

"Yeah, well, just humor us humans, will you?" Dean replied patiently, grabbing the thin instrument from the tray. "Open up and say 'ah.' All right?"

"No."

"Cas—"

"Dean! No!"

"We need to check your temperature to make sure you're fine," Dean cut in sharply, having none of Cas's current attitude anymore. "Yeah I know. You say you're fine. But you do look a little flushed. So, please, man." His voice lowered into a pained, almost pleading tone. "I'm asking. All right?"

The Seraph glared back at his boyfriend, though. His temperature was fine. A little warmer than usual, sure, but he was battling some illness of some kind, so it was to be expected.

"You all act like I'm dying. And while I feel as if I am, I am not. This will pass." It always did.

"Wonderful," the lighter-haired man replied, his smile a bit more forced than before as the deep green hardened. "So, humor us."

"No."

"Castiel—"

"Dean, I said no! I'm fine." Or he would be once he managed to get his Grace up to acceptable levels again.

"You're puking, Cas. That ain't fine!"

"It is a symptom of my diminished Grace. That's all. Once I am allowed to rest, it will—"

"Oh, fuck this!" the human huffed, tossing aside all pretenses now. "Sammy."

"Uh," replied the taller Hunter hesitantly, clearly not sure this was the right course of action, "Dean, maybe we should—"

"Now, Sam! Or I'll give Gabe all sorts of info about you to use."

When the Winchester brothers suddenly descended on him, Dean quickly wrapping him up in a tight embrace and Sam leaning forward with that damn thermometer, Cas felt his temper explode. Those insolent little assbutts! He had said no! He wiggled in Dean's arms, growling when he found his strength quickly waning. How the hell could Dean be stronger than him? He was a goddamn angel! Not only that, a Seraph even! Stupid diminished Grace. He glared murderously at Sam as the taller Winchester forced his mouth open and slipped the offending object inside.

The door opened again, and Castiel snarled with a bit of his True Voice slipping out.

"What in the Nine Hells is going on in here?" demanded the latest intruder. Gabriel of course.

"Getting a temperature from Grumpy Brat over here," Dean huffed, his arms tightening more around Castiel who fought even harder now to escape. "And he's being a giant pain in the ass with it."

The sandy-haired man sighed heavily. "You realize you could have literally just asked me to do that, right?" his older brother asked as he sauntered into the room a moment later. "Because—boys, I hate to tell you this—all you're doing right now is pissing him off."

"And, what, you somehow are the Cas whisperer now, asshole?"

"No. But I do know my brother has never enjoyed things forced on him, jackass."

"He wasn't—Damn it, Cas, stop fucking fighting—cooperating!"

"For the love of Dad almighty," the archangel muttered. "I leave you two idiots alone for one damn minute with him and you do this." He then snapped his fingers, sending Dean and Sam to chairs pushed against the far wall and vanishing the thermometer from Cas's mouth. Whiskey eyes inspected the murderous-looking Seraph for a moment before he sighed quietly. "Better?"

Cas's sapphire eyes flashed angrily and grew colder. How dare those disrespectful, pathetic, weak—He'd teach them a lesson they'd surely never forget then. His hand suddenly flew up, his middle finger and thumb pressed hard against one another in obvious sign of snapping.

"Oh no you don't!" remarked the archangel, snapping his fingers faster. "No punishing the stupid humans! Not when these two idiots only did it because they love you and are worried about you."

"I said I was fine," Cas snarled, looking downright feral and feeling it inside. He had always had a raging temper unfortunately.

"You always say you're fine, little brother," retorted Gabe, matching Cas's tone as he raised a challenging brow back.

"I learned it from them!"

"Oh, I know!" The youngest archangel glanced at the two silent plaid-clad and jean wearing Hunters. "I know you did. I'm acutely aware of that. Thank you very much." He then sighed, shaking his head. His eyes reluctantly returned to his blue-eyed little brother. "Cas?"

"Yes?" The Seraph's eyes narrowed minutely. Something seemed off. He couldn't put a finger on it, though. But the way Gabe had said his name, it didn't sit right with him for some reason. It was his brother, though. Gabe would never hurt him. Annoy the shit out of him, yes, but not hurt him.

"I'm sorry."

He was sorry? "For what, Brother?" Cas tilted his head slightly in obvious confusion.

Without another word, his older brother snapped his fingers a second later.

The harsh, sudden snap echoed in his ears, as the blue-eyed, messy-haired angel instantly fell back against the mattress. His head lightly thumped the headboard before his eyes slowly fluttered closed. He soon drifted off to dreamless slumber, unable to do anything else but that.

Next time on Angel Flu: Balthazar finally saunters into the mix. I'll likely be updating again Wednesday night and then resuming my one week in between postings.