Dean came to the grudging conclusion that he was sulking.

Sam had been haltingly trying to explain for several minutes now, whenever Dean's path crossed him, and Dean had pointedly walked straight past with the air of someone who was far too busy to listen. He was busy, technically; somehow their belongings had multiplied and then expanded to fill every corner of the bunker, and collecting the myriad items required to make Cas a comfortable resting place in the library became a task that filled an entire half hour.

Cas didn't speak, either, though that was clearly more out of fatigue and slowly surfacing pain than anything else. He'd emerged from the shower room with his face pale and pinched, torso held stiff, and he didn't seem to be able to find a comfortable position in the hard wooden chairs in the library. Dean appraised the pile of blankets and camping mattresses on the floor with an air of dissatisfaction, glancing over at Cas and inadvertently catching his eye.

"I'll go get more blankets," he mumbled, kicking at the messy nest in mild embarrassment.

There weren't many to be had that were not already in use; Dean surveyed the jumbled piles of fabric in a closet and wondered dimly if towels would suffice in creating a mattress of sorts. A shadow fell across his field of vision and he closed his eyes in exasperation.

"I get it, Sam," he said in a low monotone. "Keep the boogeyman out of your head. Give Kevin some peace of mind. Keep the mooks away from Cas. I get it."

He didn't need to turn around to know the expression of confusion that flitted across Sam's face. "Then why-"

"Because you just did it." Towels would be fine. Dean reached out and began pulling them from their shelves, draping them over one arm. "No discussion. Just decided Cas was a non-issue and drew the sigil."

"Cas isn't an angel anymore." Sam said the words slowly, deliberately, and with no small measure of weariness.

"We didn't know that." Dean snapped a towel out of its folds more vigorously than necessary. "It was a shitty thing to do and a shitty way to get that wake-up call."

Sam was silent for a moment. "This isn't about the ward. You still wanted to think Cas was all right."

Closing his eyes again for a moment, Dean took a breath to steady himself.

"What were you going to do?" Sam pressed. "Sit around and wait for him to snap back to normal?"

Dean huffed a sigh. "It was the only plan I had, okay?" he snapped. "Wait for his batteries to recharge, get you back in order and then decide our priorities from there." The knot of frustration writhed in his stomach and he turned and roughly pushed past Sam back toward the library. Sam let him pass, but Dean could feel his brother's eyes on him as he turned the corner.

He'd barely taken three steps into the library before he was stopped cold by a soft voice. "Is that the only reason you came to get me?"

Dean looked up from his armload of linens, his irritation slowly giving way to horror. "You heard that?"

It was a useless question, and they both knew it; Cas barely dignified it with a response, cocking one eyebrow in scorn. "So now that you know for certain that I'm useless, what are you going to do with me? Use me as a bargaining chip? Try to find a way to fix me so that you have your pet angel back?"

A tiny spark of shame kindled in Dean's chest; somewhere in the back of his mind, he had been musing over the latter suggestion, if not in such harsh terms. "Cas," he said bluntly, tossing the pile of towels to the floor along with the blankets, "angel or not, you were a sitting duck in that hospital. We brought you here because it's safer."

"'We' being you and Sam," Cas clarified. He sat up straighter, pinning Dean with a sharp gaze. "Why did you bring me here?"

Dean felt his jaw slacken, and he consciously clenched it before it had the opportunity to say something stupid. But though his mind raced, he couldn't think of a single answer to Cas's question. He could tell by the way Cas's eyes narrowed that he was taking too long, and he snatched desperately at the only motive that made sense to him.

"If we're facing down the end of the world again, I want you around," he forced out. By the slight widening of Cas's eyes, it was apparent Cas had not been expecting that response. "We've been through a lot. You not being here would be like missing an arm. Even if you're not the you that I know..." Dean shrugged, not even sure what he was saying anymore.

Cas seemed to know, though, because he was nodding thoughtfully, his eyes far away. "I'm sorry I can't be him," he finally said, bringing his gaze back to the present and looking back up at Dean.

Unsure where this conversation was going, Dean shrugged. "You're what we've got. I'll take it." He ran a hand through his hair, unable to keep it still at his side. "I won't lie. We could use you in angel mode. But, well..." He looked around the library. "At least now we know we can use our 'push button, eject angel' sigils without sending you to Afghanistan."

"Bad time of year for it," Cas quipped mildly. Dean blinked even as he snorted a single laugh, bending over to arrange the towels with the blankets. Cas making jokes was something he would need to grow accustomed to.

"There." Dean stood back to admire his handiwork. "Time for some sleeping."

But as he turned to look at Cas, his smile faltered. Cas was cradling his left arm against his chest, his brows drawn inward in unspoken complaint, face still very pale. With a sickly stab, Dean recalled how much of Cas's chest the dressings had occupied, how large the wound must be...

He folded himself into a sitting position in the center of the haphazard nest. "You'll be sleeping upstairs. Second floor. Third door on the left."

"What?" Cas asked.

"You thought this was for you?" Dean asked, keeping his face perfectly neutral. "You're minus a spleen. I'm not gonna make you sleep on the floor. Take my bed. I'm good here."

Gratitude smoothed some of the lines on Cas's face as he gave a single nod. "Thank you."

Dean grunted noncommittally as he toed off his shoes and shoved his legs into the sleeping bag. "G'night, Cas."

Every fiber of Sam's being seemed to sigh in relief as he swung his legs up onto the bed. Fatigue washed through him like warm water, drooping his eyelids shut before he even pulled the blankets over himself. His thoughts were lethargic and slow, bubbling to the surface in nonsensical snatches of consciousness as he drifted in the velvet blackness between wakefulness and sleep.

Very good try, Sam.

Sam's eyes popped open, a thrill of terror dashing away the warmth of sleep. He half-expected to see a figure lurking in the shadowy corner of his room, and his pulse did not slow when he didn't spot anything. By measures he began to relax again, his body's demand for rest overcoming the brief moment of panic. His lashes fluttered shut again...

That was rude.

This time he didn't fully awaken - didn't or couldn't, Sam didn't know. "Go away. You shouldn't even be here." Had they drawn the sigil correctly? Shit, what if Cas was still an angel and the sigil was just wrong?

Sam, Sam, Sam. Lucifer did not appear; his presence was more felt than seen. Sam was still very aware of himself asleep in his bed, but he was somehow...elsewhere, as well. You should know as well as anyone else that your dreams don't necessarily happen in your body. You've dreamed yourself elsewhere on purpose a few times.

Sam huffed out a sigh. There were books full of dream wards in the library. It appeared he knew exactly what he would be doing when he woke up.

Believe me, Sam. You can try to keep me away however you'd like. It will be as effective as trying to forget your worst memories. All it takes is a nudge, and there they are.

Sam set his jaw. Maybe he had to hear it, but he didn't have to listen.

Do you know why that is? It's because they're a part of you. Just as I am. You're denying the inevitable.

Dream wards might not be enough. Maybe there was an opposite to dream root, something that would keep dreams strictly within the user's head. If his head was within the angel wards then maybe it would work...but what happened to angels already within wards? Lucifer had ceased his whispers when Sam had drawn the ward, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. If Lucifer was literally inside Sam's head, not just figuratively...

Lucifer had not spoken for some time. Sam glanced around warily, not actually expecting to see anything useful, and thus was surprised by the window. It was an ordinary thing, aside from appearing to be suspended from nothing, the sort of window one might expect in a high-rise apartment building, looking down at the streets below. Sam found himself stepping towards the window before he had a chance to consider whether he really wanted to look through it.

It was the bunker.

Every angel worth their smoldering, broken wings knows where the Winchesters have made their nest. You're not hidden in any way that matters. How long do you think your wards will truly last with the entire host of Heaven laying siege to your walls?

Sam swallowed against the sourness rising in his throat. "They're not after us. They're after Cas."

And I'm sure they'll take your word for it that you're not sheltering him.

A many-winged shadow fell over the bunker.

I'm trying to help you, Sam. You and Dean are running with precious few resources. You're alarmingly exposed, no matter what spells you manage to dig up. Even assuming Castiel throws in his lot with you, he's just one against a lot of brothers and sisters he's wronged.

"You're also just one," Sam pointed out. "And you have a lot less reason to want to keep Dean alive."

It would be a part of our bargain. Lucifer seemed almost offended. Even if that wasn't reason enough, he's your brother. Don't think I don't understand such things. As for being just one - remember. Once upon a time, I kept all of the orders of Heaven in line.

"The answer is still no. And it'll always be no."

For now.

The frame of the window disappeared, and around Sam the world dissolved, along with the awareness that this was a dream. Before Sam was enveloped in the darkened amusement park that coalesced around him, he was dimly aware of a spark of despair.

"So the angel wards don't even keep Lucifer out." Dean slammed the refrigerator door closed. "Great. Now what?"

"Now we get Cas somewhere the angels aren't going to find him," Sam said, raking his fingers through his hair.

Dean's lips pursed in thought as he dumped an excessive amount of creamer into his coffee cup. "We don't know the angels are coming here. We just have Lucifer's word."

"There was an angel here yesterday," Sam pointed out. "One we've never even met before. And he seemed pretty ready to kill us."

"So what are you suggesting?" Dean asked wearily. "That we kick Cas to the curb?"

"What? No." Sam rubbed his eyes. "He wouldn't last a day out there. And the angels would probably kill us anyway. No, we...we hide Cas somewhere. We hide Kevin somewhere. Probably the further apart we all are, the better."

Dean was nodding thoughtfully. "And how long do we hide?"

"What?"

"How long do we tuck our tails between our legs before we do something?" The table shook slightly as Dean slammed his hand down on it. "We don't just lay low and hope someone else deals with everything. That's not what we do. Angels are pissed at Cas, Cas is human, Abaddon is loose and doing hell knows what. What do we do about it?"

"We..." Sam huffed out a sigh. "I don't know." He stretched and winced. "Cas and I aren't up for any kind of fight right now. Maybe...we should just lie low for a little bit. Explore our options. Let the situation come together a bit before we run in and scatter it in all different directions again."

Dean was already shaking his head. "No. We know what the situation is going to shape up to be. We have to head off any coming together before it happens. We need to keep these waters as muddy as we possibly can. There are a million pieces on the board. That's gotta be confusing for the other sides of this, too."

"Do I get a say?"

Both Dean and Sam's heads snapped to the doorway to the kitchen, where Cas stood, hair sticking out in every direction, gray tee shirt just slightly too large as it hung from his shoulders.

"I was gonna let you sleep," Dean said in answer, but he kicked a chair out from the table. "By all means. You have any ideas?"

"They want me, right?" Cas lowered himself into the chair, left arm tight against his chest. "Why not give me to them?"

Dean blinked. "Because we like you alive. And not dead."

"Then why not lead them on a chase?" Cas was eyeing Dean's untouched coffee cup. Dean slid it over to him and he took it gratefully. "If they still had all their abilities, they'd be here already. So let's assume they don't. They have to drive, or walk, or take trains. If we can stay a step ahead of them..."

"You wanna go around leaving 'Cas was here' signs everywhere?" Dean asked.

"It's doing something," Cas pointed out.

"What if..." Sam trailed off, shaking his head. "Nah."

"What if what?" Dean asked sharply.

"What if we lived up to their expectations?" Sam took a long sip of his coffee before continuing. "They're all going to converge here. They're all going to get here at different times, because like Cas said, they're limited in their travel options. So we act like Cas is still here. We drive 'em back, banishing them one wave at a time. They'll be so sure that we're protecting Cas that they won't consider the idea that he's elsewhere."

"That could work," Cas said musingly. "They have no direction, no leader - angels tend to be very single-minded once they've been given a purpose. They'll likely dash themselves against the walls for eternity."

Dean shot a suspicious sidelong glance at Cas before taking a breath. "Okay. But we're still not doing anything. We're just setting ourselves up to be caught in endless gridlock. No one in their right mind wants a siege."

"You're doing something," Sam pointed out. "You're keeping Cas out of their hands."

"Woah, wait, what?" Dean held up a hand. "No. I'm here. I don't know if you noticed, Sammy, but you're supposed to be on a sickbed. Any angel-wasting that needs to happen is going to be my job."

"Yes. Right. And we're going to send Cas out there with no one to watch his back." Sam gestured at Cas. "Aside from the fact that they recently rearranged his chest cavity, he's human now, Dean. Weirdly well-adjusted," he acknowledged offhandedly, "but human."

"I'm not useless," Cas protested. "I know how to lay low and stay hidden."

"No one goes it alone," Dean said firmly. "We send Kevin with you. He's going to be the first to know about anything to do with angels, anyway. Maybe get you your mojo back. Sam and I stay here and hold down the fort." He rubbed his eyes. "Fine. That's what we're doing about the angels, until Kevin cracks the code and we figure out what to do from there. Now what about Abaddon?"

Sam sighed explosively. "No idea. We don't even know what her vessel looks like, now. She could be anyone."

"No," Cas interjected. "A Knight of Hell is going to have many of the same problems an angel has when finding a vessel to contain her."

"What, she needs consent?" Dean asked, turning a skeptical gaze to Cas.

"No." Cas shook his head. "That's one of the things they left behind when they..." He looked up, surprised. "You don't know." It wasn't phrased as a question. "Knights of Hell were once angels."

"Seriously?" Sam asked after a beat of silence.

Gravely, Cas nodded, pushing his now-empty coffee cup aside. "Back when Lucifer was cast down, there was a...skirmish. Several angels were taken captive by the new legions of Hell. Prisoners of war, if you will, specifically chosen by Lucifer. Heaven decided not to expend the resources to rescue them." Cas grimaced. "Heaven's mistake. Time in Hell...changes people. Changes angels, too." Cas shrugged. "Lucifer still needs consent because aside from all that, he still considers himself an angel. And he was never subjected to the rigors of Hell like Abaddon and the other Knights were. Every vestige of Heaven was torn from them." He glanced around the table, nonplussed by the expressions of shock on Sam and Dean's faces. "So when they take a vessel, it's a question of capacity. They are less than what they were, and more demon than angel, but significantly more powerful than your run-of-the-mill black-eyes."

"Right." Dean leaned forward. "Cas. How do you know that?"

Cas blinked. "What?"

"How do you know lore that Sam and I have been trying to dig up since our first run-in with Abaddon?" Dean clarified.

"It's..." Cas looked down at the table, gaze turned inward. "I've always known it." He looked up again. "You really didn't?"

"You've been spouting off some surprising stuff since you sat yourself down." Dean reached over and clapped a hand on Cas's shoulder. "If I had to guess, I'd say your noggin's coming to terms with its predicament."

"But...I..." Cas's brows furrowed, his eyes focusing on nothing in particular.

"You never really believed us, did you?" Sam asked abruptly. "You didn't actually believe you were an angel once."

Cas looked up at him, confusion plain on his face. Dean felt something tiny inside him snap at how helpless Cas looked, and he tightened his grip on Cas's shoulder into a squeeze before letting go.

"Come on. I've got some clothes that'll probably fit you. If you're going on the lam, you'll need clean underwear."

"How am I supposed to take care of Cas?" Kevin protested, flopping gracelessly onto the edge of his bed. "I can barely...I accidentally went three days without eating once, when I was translating the demon tablet. And I don't know how to - to actually shoot a gun or anything useful -"

"Guns won't help much if it's angels after you," Sam said. "For you guys, it's going to be banishing sigils and wards. You know those. We'll supply the cash. Don't stay anywhere more than a couple nights -"

"I do at least know how to go on the run," Kevin interrupted. "I managed it on my own for a year, remember? I just..." he rubbed at his temples; flashes of the angel tablet were still manifesting before his eyes. "Now there's a tablet and I gotta keep an eye out for Cas?"

"Cas is...it's possible he's coming back to himself." Sam shot a glance at the door. "You'll be watching each other's backs before long."

"Great. So a tablet and an angel with PTSD." Kevin sighed. "Do we at least get the car?"

"You get a car," Sam replied. "Not the car. Dean can't function if he's more than a mile away from that thing."

A particularly painful throb creeped behind Kevin's eye. "And why isn't Dean going with Cas?" he asked tactlessly, before he realized how it would sound.

Sam glanced at the door again before responding. "Dean doesn't want to leave me to drive off the angels by myself. And...I don't think he wants to deal with...Cas...right now." Sam raised his eyebrows in an obvious attempt to give that statement multiple meanings.

"Right." Kevin shot a glance at the mound of dirty clothes by the wardrobe. "Do I have time to do some laundry?"

They'd driven for five hours, Cas sound asleep in the passenger's seat of the old pickup truck, Kevin blinking back the fatigue that lurked beneath his eyelids. The Dusty Oaks motel parking lot was nearly deserted, and the listless woman at the front desk had barely glanced at Kevin when he'd asked for a double room.

Dawn had turned the sky a shimmering gray. Kevin just hoped that the room had decent blackout curtains as he opened the passenger side door and unceremoniously prodded Cas in the arm. "Cas. Wake up. There's an actual bed inside."

To Kevin's surprise, Cas did not blink groggily and stretch. Instead, his eyes popped open and he visibly tensed, glancing around before looking down at his chest. "Cas?" Kevin ventured.

Cas turned his gaze towards Kevin, barely restrained panic glinting behind his eyes. "Who are you? Where is...what am I doing here?"

Kevin stared for several seconds before lowering his face into one hand. "Shit. Not again."