Okay, I have to start off by saying sorry for the wait. I am suffering from this terrible thing called schoolwork. And there is also this phenomena of really rather reading this fan fiction than actually writing it. I need some encouragement to keep my literary conviction! Maybe *hint,hint* a review would help? Lol! Anyways... I hope I did not screw up this chapter too bad... I hate dialogue... Ugh... Next chapter up hopefully on schedule Sunday...

Chapter Rating: T (Language)

Woah. That was all Dean could think. Woah.

Dean had a very strict policy on chick flick moments, which is probably one of the main reasons he would never go into the details of what he felt when he and Castiel kissed for the first time. He would admit to the kiss being amazing, but that was as far as he would ever go. After the two pulled apart, the impact of three emotional and sleepless days spent outside took their toll. Dean collapsed against Castiel and slept better than he had in a long time.

The when Dean woke up, the sun was low in the sky, just settling onto the horizon. He felt warm and comfortable as he lay on his back in the soft grass. There was a soft weight laying on his chest that was more of a comfort than a burden. Slowly the last few days came back to Dean, and also the events of earlier in the day. The grief in Dean's heart lightened a little, spurred on by the hope Castiel had given him. And, of course, the new opportunities Castiel had given him.

The weight on the Winchester's chest shifted and lifted off. Dean looked at the now upright Castiel as the latter wiped his eyes and yawned sleepily. The other could not help but smile.

"Oh, Dean, I did not mean to wake you."

"You didn't I was just wakin' up."

"Oh."

Silence settled between them, neither quite sure how to act. Finally Dean settled on acting normal.

"So, uh, thanks for everythin'. I needed to get my head on straight."

"You are welcome. No need for thanks."

"Yeah, well, I'm thankin' ya anyway."

"Your accent is thicker when you wake up."

"Never thought 'bout it. I guess it is."

"It's nice."

Castiel blushed a little. Dean did, too, not quite sure what to do with the statement. Both men were as unsure as the other about everything, especially the status of their relationship. Dean looked at Cas for a few moments. He came to the conclusion that he did not have to have the answers yet. Castiel, though Dean did not know it, was of much the same opinion. Dean broke the silence.

"Well, it's getting late. I should head in. Want to grab some dinner with me?"

"Yes, Dean, that would be pleasant."

Dean smiled at Cas and stood, swaying a little since he had not been on his feet in three days. He could not even remember most of the time, not that it mattered. As the two began to walk back down the path, the Winchester noticed how Castiel walked a little closer to him than normal, close enough that their arms brushed each other. He liked that feeling, but it brought on another thought. Dean pulled Cas to the side as they were about to come within view of the ranch house.

"Wait, Cas, I- Well, I don't know how to say this. I-"

"I get it, Dean. Until we are more sure of ourselves, you want to keep this thing discreet."

"Yeah. I'm sorry."

"No need."

Castiel smiled at Dean knowingly, and the other man could not help but be mystified. Cas knew him so well after just a few days. Dean could not remember someone ever understanding him so well, not even Lisa. The Winchester matched Castiel's smile with one of his own, and in a fit of chick-flickiness, leaned forward to give his friend a hug.

They parted and continued the rest of the way to the ranch house in peaceful silence, both happy and perfectly content.

When the door to the house opened, it was a very relieved looking John the men found.

"Thank God for you, Castiel. Bobby is still sleeping, so be quiet. Dean, I need to speak with you later. But for now, eat. We can do the talking once Castiel leaves."

Dean winced at the terse welcome. He had definitely upset his father, yet again. It was moments like that where Dean wondered how exactly his parent would react if he found out that his son was back from his comatose state because of more than Castiel's friendship. Dean shrugged the thought off as he entered his place of residence behind the other men.

Sam was at the table in the kitchen, his wheelchair placed in the empty space at the head of the table. He looked up as Castiel and Dean entered. John had gone back to the living room to watch something on the television. Sam looked more concerned than John had looked angry.

"Dean, are you alright? It's been days. I have been so worried..."

"I'm fine, Sammy. It was just a spell. You get 'em sometimes, too."

"Not for three days. Dad considered getting professional help, Dean. I was looking for psychiatrists. We didn't know if you would come out of it this time. I-"

Castiel shifted on his feet, drawing the attention of Dean. Dean looked at Cas apologetically, aware of how personal and awkward this must all have been.

"Cas, why don't you go ahead and head out. I don't mean to be rude. I'll make it up to you sometime."

"It's all fine, Dean. I will see you in a while. Call me."

With that, Castiel left with a smile, which Dean returned a little too enthusiastically. After Dean heard the front door close, he turned back to his brother.

"I understand how bad it was, Sam. I do. All I can say is sorry. Things have been going crazy for me, and I just needed some time. It wasn't anything serious."

"Not serious!" Sam scoffed.

"Not to me!"

"It looked pretty damn serious when I came out to try to talk you back to life. You didn't even hear me. Not me, not Dad, not Bobby. Nobody. It was by far worse than any other time! I thought we were really losing you. I thought you were going like Dad did! That scared me, Dean!"

"Well, excuse me mister 'I'm a hot-snot lawyer'. Sorry my mental breakdown rattled your oh-so-fragile nerves."

"Dean!"

"What? I just need to not talk about it. I just need to move on."

"That's the problem. You are not moving on."

"I am. I really am. I feel better than I ever have before. It is amazing, really. I can't explain it."

"Does it have something to do with Castiel?"

"Woah, what? Hold your horses there."

"Just asking, not implying anything. He's the one that was able to pull you back to us. I guess he's your guardian angel. You're lucky to have found a friend like him. Especially since I am going to college. I don't want to leave you, I really don't."

"You do, you know. Want to leave. I know that. You don't have to lie. I get it. I don't mind. It was just a shock, is all."

"Are you really alright?"

"Yeah."

"I believe you."

"You should. We got any pie? I am going into withdrawal."

"Oh, yeah, I so made you another pie while confined to my wheelchair."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

The brothers laughed, resigning themselves to forget the incident. It was better that way overall. Sam was smiling again, and he seemed to be put at ease. Dean did not see it fit to dwell on something that had already happened and the consequences of which he could not change. He was happy, a huge weight lifted off his chest. And Castiel... well, better things seemed to be in the future.

As if he could sense the happiness in the kitchen, John made his way in, dragging dread with him. He still permeated anger. One look sent Dean outside, so Sam would not have to see whatever the "talk" with John would entail.

John followed Dean outside, so close that the latter could feel the presence of the other behind him. It was not the comfortable type of feeling he had with Castiel. The presence behind Dean was not a friendly one. John had a fantastic way of making his anger very clear.

Once outside, Dean took a deep breath and turned to face his father. The older man was breathing sharply through his nostrils, most likely using the method of oxygen intake as an effort to calm himself. After a few apprehension filled moments, the man spoke to his son in a tone more solemn than hostile.

"Dean, you know I would sell my soul for you, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Rhetorical question, son. I would do anything for you. I know I could not afford for you and your brother to have therapy after... Well, I can scrape something together. Sell the TV, some of the old tack we have, maybe that foal is about ready to be broke-"

"Dad, I don't need therapy."

"SURE AS HELL YOU DO!" the older Winchester exploded. "YOU GO INTO THE WOODS FOR THREE FUCKING DAYS AND SCARE THE HELL OUT OF ME AND TELL ME THAT YOU DON'T NEED THERAPY! I OUGHTA'-" the man dissolved into a fit of coughs and wheezes that had Dean at his side in an instant.

"Dad! Breathe, okay. Breathe. I am sorry, Dad. I promise, it will never happen again. It's just that so many things were going crazy, but now..."

"Now what?" John asked between wheezes.

"I think I'll be okay. I think everything will be okay."

"What happened? What made you come to that conclusion?" John was recovering, standing up straight and looking Dean in the eye.

"I just did. I feel a little more at peace now, is all. I feel... I dunno. Better. Not perfect, but better than I have in a long time."

John gave Dean a long, considering look. His face was covered by so many conflicting emotions that Dean could not even perceive them all. It was then that Dean realized he had interpretted his father's anger incorrectly. John was not mad so much at Dean as at the situation. At the helplessness he felt when he could not help his eldest son. John had been concerned, afraid. Dean smiled at his dad reassuringly. The son wanted the father to believe him. Everything would be alright again.

John finally nodded his head. Just once. Just the faintest of tremors, a movement that could almost be comprehended as a twitch or a trick of the light. It was all Dean needed to know that everything was well between them. In a normal family, the two would have hugged but being Winchester men, they patted each other heartily on the back. I meant the same thing.

When Dean went back inside following his father, he saw Sam still planted at the kitchen table. John went up to his bedroom as Dean went back to his brother.

"Is everything alright, Dean? I heard Dad yelling-"

"Yeah. It's all good now. What time is it?"

"A little after seven. Why?"

"I can still bake a pie before it gets too late. Care to help?"

"Sure what can I do?"

"Sit there and look pretty."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

"I am really glad you are back, Dean."

"Me, too, Sam. Me, too."