Castiel blinked at them slowly, not looking at any one of them in particular. It occurred to Claire that he might have been thrown off at finding himself transported to a campsite in the middle of the night.

The teenagers glanced at one another. Wordlessly, they left their seats by the extinguished fire and crowded around Castiel, careful not to disturb the sleeping children.

Claire settled down in front of him. "Hey," she said, laying a gentle hand on his arm. Judith was nestled in the crook of it, fast asleep. "Are you okay?"

"That," said Castiel after a long moment, "was a profoundly unpleasant experience." His voice was somehow even grittier than usual.

Flushed with relief, Claire said the first thing that popped into her mind: "You sound like a phone sex operator."

Her comment was followed by a cacophony of groans and snickers. Mikey audibly facepalmed.

"What?" said Claire, defensively. "He does."

Castiel's familiar blue eyes flitted toward her. "That's inappropriate."

"You're inappropriate," Claire shot back, nonsensically. Normally, she would've found it difficult to stay mad at him when he was looking at her with such tired eyes, but now she found herself struggling to even look at that painfully familiar face.

"You're angry with me."

"I'm worried," Claire clarified, calmly. She forced herself to stare him down. "We all are. What the hell were you thinking? You just stood there and let those assholes shoot you down."

Tiredly, Castiel pointed out, "Their weapons couldn't harm me."

Claire huffed. "You were bleeding."

"The vessel was bleeding," Castiel said simply. His expression softened. "Claire, this isn't my true form. You know that."

Claire sucked her lower lip into her mouth to stop it from quivering. "You still need to take care of it."

He nodded. "I promise."

Claire sighed and leaned into him. It wasn't exactly a hug, she couldn't bring herself to wrap her arms around him just yet, but it was close enough. After a moment, Castiel began to pat her back, awkwardly.

"Sorry," Claire sniffed, speaking into Castiel's shoulder. "You scared the shit out of me."

The hand on her back stilled. "That's a figure of speech."

Claire sniffed. "Yeah, Cas."

"It's terrible."

"You're terrible," Claire grumbled.

Judith squirmed in the crook of Castiel's arm, all the commotion disturbing her sleep. "Let me take her," said Claire, pulling back and lifting the sleeping toddler to her arms. None of them had even noticed Judith slinking away, all too caught up in their discussion.

"You saved her life," Carl whispered, so low Claire barely heard it. His face was lowered, concealed by his long hair.

Castiel closed his eyes briefly. "She's too young, it wasn't right."

A tremor went through Carl's frame. "Thank you."

Frowning, Castiel reached forward and took Carl's chin, lifting his face gently. Castiel tilted his head, saying nothing for the longest time. To Claire's relief, he didn't wonder about the missing bandage or even lingered on Carl's maimed eye. In fact, even though he was looking straight at him, Claire had the strangest feeling that Castiel wasn't seeing Carl's face at all.

"I'm sorry I couldn't heal you as well," Castiel finally said, speaking softly. "There are certain things I cannot do, not now when my powers are so volatile." He dropped his hand, sighing. "I've put you all in grave danger. I'm sorry."

"Are you kidding?" Carl choked out.

He jumped forward and embraced Castiel tightly, clinging to him with desperate gratefulness he couldn't express in words. He held on to the stunned angel for several long moments. There was a heavy silence when Carl finally pulled back.

"Thank you," Carl said in a shaky voice, dragging his wrist over his one good eye.

Mikey handed Carl a bottle of water, because that was the sort of thing you'd do when someone was emotional next to you. Carl accepted it with a shaky nod of his head.

"Do you want something to drink?" Mikey asked Castiel, shuffling his hands. "We've got walnuts. I know you said you don't really eat, but, um…"

Jake let out a snort. "You said you don't need sleep, either." He threw up his arms. "That was a long power nap, man."

Castiel frowned. "That wasn't sleep," he said insistently, missing or choosing to ignore Jake's sarcasm. "At times of catastrophic injury, it may appear-"

"Catastrophic injury ?" Claire demanded.

Castiel let out a long, aggravated sigh. He closed his eyes and lifted a hand to his forehead, rubbing at the crease there. "It's not serious as it sounds, I promise," he said wearily. "A few burnt eyes, mostly."

"Yeah, we noticed," Jake said, looking a little queasy. "You got those guys pretty good. Though, uh… maybe a little warning next time?"

"I meant my own, actually," Castiel said, almost as an afterthought. He gestured, inexplicably, to his back. "They'll grow back."

"Uh," said Scott, attempting to superstitiously peer at Castiel's back. "How many eyes do you have?"

Castiel seemed surprised by the question. "You know, I never counted."

"You never counted," Scott repeated dumbly.

Jake nudged Carl with his elbow. "Hey, maybe you could borrow a spare."

"Jake," Scott hissed. "We talked about this. Filter."

"This isn't funny, you dicks," Claire said, furiously. "Cas - you nearly lost it back there." After the hunters, after Judith, Castiel had nearly lost control. She'd seen it, they'd all seen it. What would have happened if she hadn't talked him down?

Enid spoke up for the first time. "You're not really okay, are you?" Her tone was gentle and full of worry.

Castiel considered his response for a moment. "I suppose it would be very human of me to tell you I'm fine."

"But you're neither," Enid concluded. "So please don't lie to us."

Castiel nodded slowly. "I'm… full."

Enid raised her eyebrows. "You're full?"

"In a manner of speaking." Castiel gave a little shrug. "I suppose I could draw you the necessary mathematical equations." He tilted his head and asked, "Are you familiar with the quantum harmonic oscillator, by any chance?"

Enid laughed a little at that. "No one here even finished high school."

"Hmm." Castiel deflated a little. "It is very old magic," he said finally. "We angels, we cannot create energy. We can absorb cosmic power, turn it into a form we can use, but there are limits." He made a helpless gesture. "Tlaloc took away those limits."

"Shouldn't it make you stronger, though?" Enid wondered.

Castiel made a sound of bitter amusement. "It did, but it also created a damage to my grace. Made it brittle. I can't control it. The best I can do is keep it contained. My grace, the… container, you might say. It's too… full." He seemed to consider something for a moment and added, "It's not a question of having too much power, rather, too much of the right kind of power."

His gaze flitted between them. "It's like… eating cheeseburgers every day, all day. It will give you energy to use, or to store. But you physically cannot consume that many cheeseburgers. Your stomachs will burst." He nodded knowingly.

"... so, you're a fat angel?" Enid finished with a small smile.

"It's not a perfect analogy," he admitted. His expression hardened. "I need you all to promise me something." Castiel stared them down one by one. "If something like that were to happen again, you will leave me. You run. You get as far away from me as you can."

"That's not - " Claire started to say, so harshly that Judith startled in her arms.

"Claire, enough," Castiel admonished her. "Promise me."

Face heating, Claire pursed her lips. She stared at Castiel, who met her eyes straight on. Finally, she relented.

"Fine," she said, huffing a long-held breath. "I promise."

Castiel leaned back. "Thank you."

She looked over at Enid. The other girl gave her a look of understanding. When the two of them had found Castiel, back on the freight ship, he'd been bound and chained. He told them that Tlaloc had forced him to absorb too much power, enough to turn him into a bomb, essentially. He also told them that he would eventually recover. Was that a lie?

Claire swallowed. "Just don't do anything stupid, okay?" She looked at her friends, and added, "We can actually take care of ourselves, you know."

"I agree," said Castiel, eyes crinkling. He looked around then, gaze lingering on the broken truck. "How long have I been unconscious?"

"It hasn't been a day," replied Scott, stroking the strap of his rifle absentmindedly. "We got as far away as we could before we ran out of gas."

"It's just a pit stop," said Claire, feeling strangely defensive of their little campsite. It might not be much to look at, but they've worked hard to recoup after the hunters had left them with nothing.

Without a word, Castiel climbed to his feet. He swayed for a moment, alarmingly, but managed not to step on Oliver who had been curled up beside him.

"Dude," said Jake, jumping to his feet. He held out a hand to steady Castiel.

Castiel brushed him off. "It's all right," he said, making his way toward the truck. He reached inside the passenger side window and pulled out a small pouch.

"Is that the air freshener?" Claire called out, squinting. It was hard to make out in the dark.

"It's a hex bag," Castiel told them. He sniffed it briefly before nodding. "Oh, it's quite harmless," he said, handing it over to Jake.

"What's it do?" Jake asked, holding the pouch between two pinched fingers.

Castiel leaned back against the truck. "Hex bags are normally used by witches. They're a means to cast spells. This one will repel supernatural creatures."

"Like you?" Jake asked, scrunching his nose.

Castiel had the nerve to roll his eyes. "No, not quite like me. Spirits, perhaps even ghouls."

"Let me see that," said Enid, scrambling to her feet. She took the bag from Jake and then brought it to her nose. She gagged. "Blegh! It smells like feet."

Claire smirked. "See? I told you they were hunters."

"Hunters?" Castiel asked.

Claire had forgotten he'd been out of the loop for that revelation. She nodded. "We're pretty sure. I mean, they were saying stuff, plus we found marks all over them. And I mean all over ."

"What kind of marks?" Castiel asked slowly.

Scott perked up. "I took notes," he said, rising up to pull the notepad from his back pocket. He paused to look at it, shoulders slumping a little. "Oh, it's kind of dark. I don't have a flashlight or anything…"

"I don't need a light," Castiel said, stepping closer to pluck the notepad from Scott's hands.

"There's that knife, too," Claire pointed out. "Scott, can you grab that as well?" She nodded to her backpack next to the fire pit, where she'd left it.

Scott went to retrieve it. It was a plain-looking knife, unremarkable except for the markings on its handle. "That guy was trying to stab you in the back with it."

"Scott stopped him," Claire pointed out.

"Thank you, Scott." Castiel barely glanced at the knife, but he smiled warmly at Scott.

"Is it also hexed?" asked Carl, eyeing the knife in distrust.

Castiel examined it briefly. He shook his head. "It's silver, and old." He turned the blade around before offering it back to Scott, hilt first. "But it is safe. You should keep it."

"Knives aren't really my thing," Scott said, smiling crookedly.

"Keep it anyway," said Castiel, before turning his attention back to the notepad. "This is very interesting."

"They're all from the same guy," Scott pointed out, leaning forward to squint at his own sketches, "they all had that pentagram one Claire said was for demons. We weren't sure what the other ones were for…"

"Hunters get them, right?" Claire interjected.

"I'm not so certain," said Castiel, eyebrows rising as he studied Scott's scribbled copies of the hunters' tattoos. "These are… excessive."

"Why'd they get them?" Mikey wondered loudly. He had been the first to point out their attackers' unusual tattoos.

Castiel tilted his head. "They're protection sigils, of many different origins. There's Sumerian, Anasazi, Celtic, Arabic…" He stopped at one page, peering at it with a darkening expression. "Enochian," he said, and quickly clarified, "of angelic origin. This one is a cloaking sigil. It would explain why I couldn't sense them. But this - " he made a small huff - "This is Enochian, but it's just a curse. Angelic, but hardly a sigil."

"It was on the dude's butt," Mikey piped up helpfully, then elbowed a sheepish Scott in the ribs. "So much for being thorough, huh?"

Scott didn't seem so amused. "It's a curse? Like The Ring?"

Castiel blinked. "No, it's not a ring. A curse. As in, profanity." He said something in a strange language and chuckled. "It means, 'you breed with the mouth of a goat." He looked at their faces expectantly. Upon receiving nothing but raised eyebrows he sighed in exasperation and clarified: "Goat fucker."

Carl made the unfortunate decision to drink from his bottle. He choked. Enid kindly thumped him on the back.

"Cas!" Claire coughed, laughing despite herself. " Language ."

Castiel sighed and ducked his head, sheepishly. "I really do feel terrible."

Eventually, Castiel insisted they all get some sleep.

They argued, of course. No one thought it was right for Castiel to take watch, not when he was still obviously recovering. Castiel stubbornly pointed out that among all of them, he was the only one who didn't need the rest.

The ground was a poor substitute for a bed, however. Claire decided against the back of the truck, opting for a thin sheet on the ground with a backpack for a pillow. She remained awake for hours, listening to the leaves rustling overhead, the clinking of the cans they'd hung up for protection.

Jake must've had trouble sleeping, as well. There was a distinct lack of snoring. Eventually, she heard him sigh and climb to his feet.

"Hey, Cas," Jake was saying quietly, "can we talk?"

"Of course," said Castiel.

Claire rolled over to her side, watching them curiously. Castiel must have known she was awake but didn't pay her any mind.

Jake crossed his arms over his chest. "How much of that did you catch back there?"

Claire could practically see the question marks floating around Castiel's head. "What do you mean?"

"About our past," Jake mumbled, so quietly Claire had to strain her ears to hear him. "We…I hurt a lot of people."

Castiel looked at the teenager calmly. "Why did you?"

There was a long pause as Jake studied his feet. "Does it matter?"

"I ask myself that question, as well."

Jake rubbed his face tiredly. "I told myself I didn't have a choice. That it was us or them." He thought about it for a moment before adding, "But I think I did."

The silence hung heavy in the air. Eventually, Jake sat down next to Castiel, not looking at the angel directly. "We knew Heaven was a scam from the start, you know. It had to be, else why would we be there?" Then he asked, very softly, "Do you want us to leave?"

"Jake," said Castiel, taking the teenager's shoulder, "did you think I would judge you?"

Jake pulled back his shoulder. "I'm not a good person. I hurt people."

"So did I," said Castiel gently. "And I'm extremely old, so I've had something of a head start on you."

Jake huffed a laugh. He stood up, turned to Castiel, and bit out, "What, like those hunters assholes? That's nothing."

"They were hardly innocent."

"Yeah, well, how about this: I once blew someone's head off in front of his wife."

"It isn't a competition," said Castiel, shaking his head.

Jake spat out, "I beat up an old man for standing up to me."

"Jake."

"I set the dead on someone, just to impress my boss."

Castiel gave him one of his piercing gazes. "The body I'm inhabiting as a vessel once belonged to Jimmy Novak. He was Claire's father."

Claire's breath caught in her throat.

Jake made a low whistle. "That's fucked up."

"Indeed." Castiel continued, "I've led a civil war in Heaven, killing hundreds of my brethren. I absorbed the souls of purgatory, proclaimed myself god, and inadvertently freed primordial demons in this world. I betrayed my friends."

"Yeah, alright," Jake said, sounding very tired. He flopped back down to the ground, leaning his back against a tree. He sighed. "Can you just tell me how to live with myself?"

"I can't do that," said Castiel, giving Jake a long, searching look. "You cannot change your past, no more than I can. But you're not dead, Jake. The only one who can choose how to live the rest of your life is you. You can carry on the same path, or you can do your best to make up for it. What you choose from here on matters. Do you understand?"

Claire swallowed. She rolled to her other side, blocking out the rest of the conversation. Sleep didn't come to her for the longest time.