Dean runs a hand through his hair as he paces back and forth in the main room of the house. He takes a few ragged breaths and rubs at his eyes, trying to calm himself down.

He is angry that he is still alive. He tries to direct his rage at the angel that lies injured in the other room. He tries to tell himself that he was in the right mindset and that Castiel was interfering with something that he shouldn't have been. He tries to resent the monster that saved his life, but some part of him is telling him that the angel did the right thing. He doesn't want to believe it. When he had been standing up on that bridge, he thought that his life was over.

He truly believed that his job was done. He has believed that ever since he and Sam finally managed to kill Azazel, the demon that took away every other important person in Dean's life. Ever since Azazel killed his mother when he was just a child, Dean had lived to hunt monsters. He followed his dad's footsteps, doing what he said and striving for his approval. That is, until he went missing. At that point, Dean's purpose had been to hunt down Azazel and get rid of him. In the process, he lost Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Ash, and finally, his father.

Now, without his dad's guidance, he didn't know what do to anyone. He felt as though he was living without a purpose due to his mission being complete. It was that lack of a purpose that led him over the side of that bridge.

But now, suddenly there was a new mission at hand. Castiel was a fallen angel. He was injured and needed help. Dean wasn't sure what he could do to help a celestial being, but he decides that he will do what he can. He will forget that the angel saved him without his permission and he will help the angel heal.

Dean makes his way to the kitchen, grabbing another bottle of water for the angel along with some pain medicine from one of the cabinets. He briefly wonders what angels eat, considering bringing the winged-man some food, but then decides that he would come back for the food in a minute.

When Dean enters the bedroom again, he finds Castiel staring up at the ceiling with glassy eyes. The angel turns his head to look at the man, opening his mouth to speak, but Dean quickly dismisses him with a shake of his head. He sits in the chair at the bedside again, opening up the bottle of painkillers. "You need to take some of these," Dean says quietly, "It'll help with the pain until I can figure out how to fix your broken wing."

Castiel stares at Dean tiredly, watching as he opens the bottle and pours a couple of pills into the palm of his hand. "You think my wing is broken?" he asks nervously in a gruff voice, looking over to his right wing. The wing is bent to the side and it's stained with blood. Luckily, his left wing seems to be alright, though it is a little sore.

"It looks like it," Dean sighs out quietly, "Yeah, I think so. Here." He holds out his hand with two blue pills in it, which Castiel takes carefully.

Castiel has seen humans take medicine before, but he has never himself had the need to so before. "I just... swallow them whole, correct?" he asks hesitantly.

"Yeah," the blonde replies simply before inquiring, "Guess they don't really have pills up in heaven, do they?"

"We have no need for them," Castiel says with a blank expression. He then opens his mouth and puts the pills inside, reaching over for the water on the nightstand.

Perhaps it was his inexperience with his humanoid form or the fact that he has never needed to swallow anything until he landed on earth, but when he feels the water easily slide down his throat while the capsules of the pills get caught before they can make it down, he immediately panics. He leans forward, coughing up the pills quickly and spitting them up onto the bed sheets, gagging as his eyes brim with tears of panic. If his throat didn't hurt before, it is stinging with pain now. "I- I can't do it," he rasps out in hysteria.

Dean's eyes widen in surprise at the unexpected horrific reaction from the other. They then narrow in disbelief. "Yes, you can," he says with an accusatory tone.

"I can't," Castiel insists, leaning back against the pillows. "I'm sorry Dean, I didn't mean to-" he stutters out, feeling guilty for not being able to take the medicine that the human had offered him.

Dean sighs quietly and thinks for a moment as he picks up the disgusting pills with a rag that was on the nightstand. "Hold on. Just wait here," he says a bit irritably. With that, he takes the bottle of pills from the nightstand and makes his way out of the room and to the kitchen.

Once there, he looks in his refrigerator and then his freezer for anything that he deems will work before pulling out a container of vanilla ice-cream from the back of the freezer. He scoops a bit of it out into a bowl, places the pills into the bowl, and then mashes them up and mixes them in with the ice-cream.

Once back in the room, he sits down in his chair again and hands Castiel the bowl of ice-cream and a spoon. "Here," he says with a sigh.

"What is it?" Castiel asks as he pokes at the strange, half solid material in the bowl with confusion.

"Ice-cream," Dean responds, "Eat up."

The angel lets out a noise of understanding as he scoops up a bit of the ice-cream and lifts it to his mouth. As soon as the dessert touches his lips he pulls it away a bit. "It's cold," he murmurs quietly before eating the bit that is on his spoon. He honestly didn't expect the mixture to be so sweet, and immediately he lets out a tiny pleased hum. His uninjured wing stretches out and flaps gently in glee, accidentally hitting Dean in the head.

Dean sputters slightly at the feathers in his face, reaching up and guiding the angel's wing down gently. "Careful with those things," he chuckles quietly with a faint smile.

"Sorry," Castiel mumbles as he lowers his wing, then smiles tiredly over at the blonde. He hadn't seen Dean smile in the longest time, so even the slightest of smiles from him was a relief to the angel.

Dean blinks at the angel in confusion at the soft expression. "What?" he asks quietly.

Before the angel can answer, Dean's phone is ringing. He reaches into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out his phone and checking the caller ID, eyes widening for a moment in panic. Sam hardly ever called him anymore. When Dean answers the phone, his mind has already gone to the worst case scenario. As soon as he answers the phone, he quickly asks, "Sammy?"

Finally getting a little less angsty, right?

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