Beginning at the top of the cut, he tried to work as quickly as possible only to find his fingers shaking so violently that he realized he would have to wait between stitches so as to not cause unnecessary pain for the priest. Dean winced for every hitch in Castiel's breath, each gasp or whimper. It took him fifteen minutes to finish the entirety of the incision; Dean whispers soft encouragements and murmuring gentle things to him all the while. In the end, it wasn't as even as he would have liked, or was it in any way nice to look at, but it was an improvement from when he first saw it. Applying the bactine with one hand, he searched for some Tylenol or any fever reducer in the First Aid Kit. No dice.

"Dude, do you have anything for your fever?"

"I do not customarily come down with illness."

"Should I take that as a no?"

"Yes."

Dean ran a hand over his face, exasperated and completely at a loss. Even when he was a kid he at least had the proper medication on hand to speed recovery. Grabbing the cotton swatches and sports tape, he began to dress the wound as he addressed the priest once more.

"You think Pastor Jim will have any?"

Only silence and a slightly evened breathing greeted him. Finishing the dressing, he eased off the super heated priest and turned the smaller man onto his side. Sure enough he was sound asleep once again.

"Son of a bitch…"

He remembered Sammy again, his kid brother telling him that if someone falls asleep when treating a wound you're supposed to make sure they're breathing or else you have to perform CPR and he knew he wasn't qualified for that shit. Swallowing thickly, he turned him back onto his stomach and took this opportunity to reopen and flush out the other two large cuts – one on the small of his back and the other on his left tricep. Another hour was passed with stitching, something that did not get easier with practice or Castiel's slumber. He shakily finished and dismounted again, pulling the blankets once more to cover the priest before steeling himself and preparing to seek out the Pastor.

He was dreading the idea of having to talk to the man who, since day one, had something against him. Granted, the idea that Castiel did not disclose his condition with the man did not escape his notice, but it still bothered him that the inherent mistrust was obvious. He slipped back to his room where his clothes waited, pulling on the first things he found with the trench coat following suit. God, he was so not ready for this.

Castiel dreamed of the day he had been assigned the Righteous Man's protector. It was a Thursday, three Thursdays before he was schedules to be born to be exact. When Michael had come to him he had not understood the quiet desperation in his eyes, the determination in his brow. He had tracked the seraph down to his favorite Heaven, to the endless Tuesday afternoon with the oblivious man and his kite. Castiel had been watching the bees that day, each one unique in its own way as it collected pollen for honey.

The flutter of wings signaling another Angel's presence, Castiel rose to his feel before turning to face his visitor. He had not been expecting Michael to be the one to call on him, trying valiantly to hide his surprise but suspecting that he had ultimately failed. He met the cold, gray green irises of the Archangel before addressing him.

"Hello Michael."

"Hello Castiel. We have much to discuss."

Dean found Pastor Jim standing before the large crucifix in the front room of the church where Sermons were held. The quiet manner with which the cleric stood was almost unnerving, the winged man found himself mentally hoping that he would just do something. As Dean opened his mouth to address him, the Pastor pulled something he had only ever seen Castiel do – address him without ever facing him.

"So you finally woke up."

"Uh, yeah…"

"Welcome back."

The man turned to face him then, a genuine looking smile on his lips despite Dean's impression that it was forced. He didn't like it.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine, um-"

"Good, good. Where is Father Christopher? I had thought he would be rejoicing and watching you like a hawk after the scare you gave him."

"Right, about Cass - he's not feeling too hot. He's got a pretty bad fever and his First Aid Kit doesn't have anything for it. You wouldn't by chance –"

"I believe I have some Nyquil gels, let me get them for you."

Relief washed through Dean as the tension left his body all at once. Castiel was going to be okay.

"Thanks, man, I really appreciate-"

"No need to thank me, my child-"

Dean's eye involuntarily twitched.

"-Father Christopher is a dear friend of mine, I watched him grow up. I would do anything for that boy."

It was then, just as Dean took one step forward, that the priest spun around and threw a lit match at his feet setting a ring of oil he had not noticed before ablaze. Looking around himself as he became surrounded, panic settled into every ounce of him.

"Raphael! I have him."

Just as Michael opened his mouth to speak the dream around him froze and Balthazar came rushing into the dream.

"Castiel!"

The French man took a look around the dream before he seemed to understand what he had interrupted.

"Oh…Oh, so you're remembering your previous occupation, hmm? Well, I hate to disrupt this moment of reminiscing but your little friend is in a bit of a row."

"I don't-"

"Look, Raphael is royally pissed at Michael for what he did and has come down to take the winged monkey of yours and throw him into a cage until Doomsday. So, I suggest you click those ruby slippers and go rescue his sorry ass from that 'friend' of yours."

"Balthazar, I-"

"We'll talk later, brother. It's time for you to wake up – they're in the Chapel."

Before Castiel could get a word in he felt his brother's hand on his shoulder and the world around him went black.

The church felt as though it would shake apart around them, white light poured in from every window as Dean tried to yell above the din.

"What the fuck did you do?!"

"I have summoned the Archangel Raphael to come and reclaim you."

"Reclaim me? Dude, I was never his to claim in the first place!"

"You were the instant you rebelled and escaped Heaven, seeking shelter with Father Christopher. Did you think I was too ignorant to figure out what you were? I saw your wings, fiend."

"I'm not an Angel!"

"He said it!"

The church doors flew off their hinges to reveal the one person Dean had thought he would never see again. It took him a moment, enough time for the sandy brown haired man to saunter up the aisle, before the name came to him.

"Gabriel!?"

The instant Castiel woke from his fever dream he tossed aside the covers and grabbed the knife on the bedside table before moving as swiftly as his legs would carry him to the Chapel. Silently he berated himself for being so careless. He should have known better than to trust Pastor Jim after learning of a compromised priest. He had initially hoped that there would have been more time, clearly an error of judgment on his behalf. If they survived this, it would not be a mistake he would make again.

It wasn't until he was almost to the door that he honestly took in his surroundings, the unnatural quake of the world around him and the white light spilling in from every window. Just as one exploded to his left he threw open the door and plunged inside.

"The one and only, kid! Now just sit still a minute, I've got some work to do."

There was a ripple in the world around the smaller man and a shockwave that caused all of the windows and lights to explode. It was then that the wings unfurled from Gabriel's back, wings of all sizes and shades numbering somewhere over one hundred. Dean's legs gave from under him as he looked at the man's wings, deep honey gold each flexing and moving of their own accord. Gabriel snapped his fingers and Pastor Jim was thrown into a wall and held in place, one beat of his massive wings and suddenly the ring of fire was extinguished.

Dean had not registered the doors behind him opening but suddenly the wiry frame of Castiel was at his side, hauling him to his feet. He openly stared in disbelief as Castiel gave Gabriel one of the most venomous stares he had ever seen.

"What are you?"

"That's a fine hello to the guy who just saved your butts! Geez, thanks for the vote of confidence."

"No! Cass, can't you…can't you see them?"

The priest turned his still haggard looking face to him, his eyes murky with confusion.

"See what, Dean?"

"It's…Gabriel's wings, Dude. Gabriel's an Angel."

"Archangel, if you want to be Biblically correct."

The proximity of the interjection made both men jump, looking up to find Gabriel at the edge of the ring burned into the floor. As he addressed Pastor Jim, still on the wall as the shaking of the building became more violent, he laid his hands on their foreheads.

"Tell Raphael to go fuck himself."

Then the world was ripped from underneath Dean and his vision went black.