A/N: This drabble is for snovolovac. The prompt was based on a Tumblr post, basically centering on the idea of Cas getting hurt but being so worried about Sam and Dean that he didn't even realize it at first. Thanks for the prompt, snovolovac!

Setting: S11, AU version where all three of them got out of the cage *without* Lucifer.

Summary: They NEED a Hand of God to help fight the Darkness. But the search may have too high a price.

This was not going to end well.

Castiel held his breath as Dean ran a hand over the small wooden chest on the pedestal, situated at the center of the cavern. His fingers twitched, itching to reach out, to try sensing any emanating power—since it was supposedly a Hand of God. But the sigils that lined every tunnel and cavern leading them into the heart of the mountain kept his grace locked down tight.

This was too easy.

Castiel pushed the thoughts aside as he and Sam watched over Dean's shoulders with flashlights pointed at the box. This was the first lead they'd had in too long. They couldn't turn back now.

Dean gingerly unhooked the latch, leaning backwards in trepidation as he prepared to lift the lid.

Something's wrong.

The thought struck at the same time as the beam of Sam's flashlight caught a small symbol that Castiel hadn't noticed carved into the box. His eyes shot wide with immediate terror.

"Dean, stop!"

Castiel flung himself towards his friend just as Dean started to pry the lid up. The schink of metal accompanied surprised shouts from Sam and Dean as Castiel knocked all three of them off their feet. On the other side of the pedestal, the empty chest crashed to the ground and bounced, lid hanging ajar.

All the air left Castiel's lungs, crushed from the fall. He couldn't breathe. Fear flooded the angel's heart as he scrambled to his feet. His mind registered nothing but desperation for his friends. He cursed; how could they have fallen for this trap?

"Sam… D-dean… Are you- are you alright? Dean!" The chamber spun and Castiel staggered, clutching the pedestal to hold him up. A compartment had opened in the front of it, the mechanism for a weapon visible within its recesses. It had already been deployed, whatever it was, and the fear multiplied tenfold—it must have hit one of the boys.

And Castiel had no power in here to heal them.

The small wooden chest—the one with Dagon's mark, who was hardly likely to have any Hand of God—watched him mockingly, gaping lid like a mouth stretched wide in laughter that he might lose Sam or Dean for nothing. Castiel wrenched himself away from the pedestal and turned.

"Sam!" he pleaded, tripping towards the closer of the brothers.

Sam pushed himself into a sitting position, pausing to stare at Castiel. Probably in shock. But there was no blood, no mark on him.

Breath hitching, Castiel turned frantically towards the other. "Dean. Dean!"

But Dean was already scrambling upright, unharmed. Like Sam, his eyes were wide and full of terror, latched unblinkingly on Castiel.

The cavern spun again as the angel looked between his friends; the ground seemed less willing to support him.

"Cas?"

It was the break in Dean's voice that hit him hardest. Castiel wanted to reach out to him in reassurance, only every movement hurt.

When he extended a hand, it knocked something hard, and Castiel hissed at the sudden spasm of pain. Suddenly afraid to look down, he gripped whatever he'd hit, inching his hand along it closer and closer until his knuckles brushed the damp material of his shirt. Confused, he felt his side.

Castiel's hand came away wet.

Oh…

"It's fine," Castiel assured them. He looked down at the bolt sticking out of his side, the insidiously spreading crimson coating his shirt and palm. "Everything's… fine." Castiel's vision blurred. At some point, his legs must have given out, because he thought he might be lying down. A chill crept into his bones from the cold of the stone, the cold of the air, the cold in his mind. The dark turned darker.

Then everything disappeared.

…

"Dean, he's back!"

"Cas! Open your eyes! Look at me! Look at me!"

It had been a while since he'd heard such panic from Dean. Castiel blinked his eyes slowly open, squinting against the sun beaming down on him. A breath of mountain air grazed his cheeks and the angel frowned as he pushed himself up to sit. "What…?"

Any further question was cut off by a violent curse and Dean's sudden haggard appearance in front of him, gripping the angel's face. "You weren't healing!"

Feeling deep within, Castiel noted the strongly thrumming grace that had put his physical shell back together. They must have carried him back out through the cavernous maze, away from the sigils, so that he could heal.

"It's alright, I'm feeling better now," he offered, examining the lines of Dean's face and the terror in his eyes. "Are you two okay?"

"Are we- Damn it, Cas!" Dean yanked Castiel forward into a crushing hug, to his surprise.

"We thought we hadn't gotten you out in time," Sam murmured hoarsely, gripping Castiel's arm. "You- your grace wasn't kicking in. I thought…" He paused, then shook his head and whispered, "You saved us."

"I'm just sorry it wasn't a Hand of God. I know how much we need-"

"I don't care about some stupid Hand of God!" Dean shouted as he jerked away from Castiel. "We almost lost you! What good is a Hand of God if we lose you to get it, huh? It's not worth it!" He hit Castiel's shoulder with an open hand, then clenched his fingers in the material of the angel's coat. "It's not worth it," he repeated in a low whisper. "Cas…"

Castiel stared at his friend, the ferocity of Dean's words almost more of a shock than the bolt had been. He remembered Amara's cutting remarks about being used up, Ambriel's comment about being expendable. His growing worry that maybe… maybe they were right.

Suddenly Castiel was glad he hadn't let himself fall too deeply into that fear, because they were wrong. He wasn't expendable, not to the Winchesters, and they were the ones who mattered.

As long as they had each other… all was well.