The next moment he knew, with perfect clarity and distinction that he was in a motel bed, bundled in layers and layers of blankets. The restriction was overwhelming, and the sudden fear and panic that came with being restricted overcame him, and he began to fight and struggle against the scratchy blankets. He was suffocating in a sea of material, and heard himself start to whimper against the covers.

He yelled out when he felt strong arms start to push against his and he felt powerless against them.

"Cas!"

He kept fighting against the arms, and started kicking when another pair joined the first. People were holding him hostage and he needed to get away. He felt his knee connect with something very solid, followed by a very startled cry.

Whatever he hit, he hit them to the point it hurt. He felt a wave of satisfaction that he could fight against his attackers.

"Cas, buddy," the arms that were still holding him said, "you have to calm down! It's me! It's Sam!"

Sam…

At the mention of his name, Castiel began to settle in the bed. For the first time, he looked past the bedding and saw Sam, his face looking all concerned, but the grips of his hands tight on Castiel's wrists.

"Wha-" Castiel said. He took a deep breath, and then began coughing. He kept kicking at the blankets.

"You're running a pretty high fever, man." Sam said, patting his back through the coughs. "You need to keep those on."

"They are too tight…" Castiel moaned and was helped to sit up against the headboard. Sam nodded and sat back for a moment to take a breath. Castiel was calmer, less panicked, but he still felt too constricted and sick to his stomach. That was certainly a new sensation. He looked back up to Sam. "Fever?"

Sam nodded, "Glad you woke up. Glad you're you. We didn't know if…" he trailed, avoiding Castiel's eyes. He began to straighten up the blankets, pulling them out from under the mattress to calm Castiel.

"Where's Dean?"

"At the courthouse," Sam began walking around the bed, "seeing what he can do about Ben."

'Ben' hit him like a beacon. That name should have meaning to him, Castiel realized. But his head was heavy and his stomach was still turning. He did not know what was happening. "Ben?"

"You don't remember?"

It was a new voice, one that startled Castiel. He jumped as he turned to look at the new voice. It was a woman, with wide brown eyes and long brown hair worn in a braid that lay just below her shoulder. The pattern suddenly reminded Castiel of rope and he instantly reached for his own wrists. They had rope on them recently. He could still feel it.

He had to force himself to refocus. His wrists should not be the main concern. The woman should be. He turned back to her; Sam was helping her off the ground.

"You're the one I kicked."

"Yeah," she grinned through it, "you got me in the ribs pretty good."

"Who are you?"

Sam and the woman, who was short, considering she stood barely at Sam's chest – but Castiel found himself laughing – most people looked short next to Sam. He shook himself to stop laughing – why was he laughing?

He was still confused. But Sam was asking a question. He forced himself to pay attention.

Castiel found himself asking, "What?"

"I asked if you knew who I was."

"Sam."

"But you don't know her?" He was pointing at the woman; she had a kind and simple face. Apart from the hand on her side where Castiel had kicked her, and wisps of hair had fallen around her face, no doubt there because of her struggle with Castiel and the blankets, she stood up straight and looked very proud.

"I'm sorry I hit you," it was out of Castiel's mouth before he could say anything else. Remorse ran through him like an hourglass and he felt it in his throat. He was overly sorry for hurting this woman and he wanted nothing but forgiveness from this woman and he did not even know her name. The need was overpowering. Then there was something else in his throat, and out of the corner of his eyes he saw Sam reach for a trash can and shove it into his arms before he experienced throwing up for the first time.

Once he was done, he sat back and pushed the can away from him, "What just happened?"

Sam laughed and sat down on the edge of the bed, "You vomited, Cas. Happens sometimes when you're sick." He took the can away from him and sat it down next to the bed. "You sure you don't know who she is?"

The woman looked down at him, brown eyes expectant. She did seem familiar.

"I should, shouldn't I?"

She nodded, "My name is Liz." It sounded like a question, like it would spark some memory in Castiel's mind.

"Do you know who you are?"

"Castiel," he answered instantly. "But I'm different now."

'Tighter, heavier,' his mind told him. 'Emptier,' it echoed.

"I Fell. I gave Lucifer my Grace." Images of Dean's scared face ran over his mind, memories of Lucifer's satisfied smirk. "Did all those people…" he took a quick breath, "Did Dean…" he took another, "Did it work?" The breaths were coming faster now, and he could not slow down. "Did I… did they… get out?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Sam reached out a steadying hand, "calm down."

"He's gonna hyperventilate," the woman – Liz said – as she ran to another room that Castiel assumed was the bathroom.

"Yes Cas." Sam answered, still trying to calm him down. "Everyone got out, thanks to you. Everyone is fine."

He was still breathing heavy and holding his head, curved down into his legs when he whimpered, "I am not fine."

"You will be," Sam said rubbing his back, "I just think you've never known what it's like to be sick before…"

Castiel jumped when something cold was laid on his neck. "It's okay," Liz soothed, "it's just a washcloth. It'll help." Castiel eyed her and nodded, leaning forward again. The two let him catch his breath before asking him any more questions.

But he had about a million for them.

The cool towel on his neck was comforting, he realized. Shortly after that, he realized that Liz was running a hand across his back along his shoulders. His shoulders.

His empty shoulders.

He couldn't feel his wings any longer. He felt his face tear at the revelation, and he felt water run down his face. He was crying. He knew he was crying at their loss and what their absence meant. He didn't want to stop crying, but he was sitting alone in a room with Sam and some woman that he should know but didn't.

He sat back against the headboard suddenly, and bit his lip. Sam and Liz sat back slowly and stared at one another while Castiel kicked his feet free from the covers.

"I'm gonna call Dean," Sam said, Liz nodding.

'Dean…' the name filled his mind and his soul. Closing his eyes, he could almost still feel him. The mark that Castiel had left on him years ago… the burn on his shoulder… even after Dean was hidden from the eyes of Angels, Castiel could still sense it. He could never know exactly where he was, but it was a comfort to know that Dean was safe and alive.

It frightened Castiel to no end when it happened, when Dean would just disappear off the radar.

The feeling disappeared when Zachariah took him to the future.

The feeling disappeared when Gabriel took him to TV land.

The feeling disappeared when Lucifer took him underground.

But right now? Right now Castiel could still feel it. The pull that his Grace had to Dean may have not been as strong as it was before considering he no longer carried his Grace, but it was there. It was a comfort that Castiel clung to.

He felt his feet get recovered and he snapped his eyes open. Liz had covered him back up. Fear crept up in him like fire.

"Why do you do that?"

She looked up at him from the foot of the bed, "You still have a fever. That delirium that you are feeling? That might go away when we get your fever broken. Staying covered up will help you." She nodded comfortingly. Castiel blinked and felt a tug from the feeling that was uniquely Dean – Dean's scar, Castiel's mark – and nodded through his heavy eyelids.

Soon, he was asleep.

Dean was supposed to be signing papers. Important papers, life changing papers with lawyers and judges and everything, but his little brother had called and his little brother was under strict instructions to only call him if there was a dire emergency.

"What do you mean Cas has woken up?"

Yep, dire emergency. Little brother was forgiven.

He heard Sam sigh from the other end of the phone. "How else can I say that sentence?"

Dean ran a hand through his hair, and leaned it against the wall of the hallway. A hallway that seemed to have every stinkin' person that worked for the county suddenly occupying it. "Well, how long has he been awake?"

"I don't know, five minutes. Look, Dean… he woke up a little delirious. He didn't know where he was or what was going on. He didn't know who Liz was."

"So…" Dean trailed, smiling at a woman who walked past him with a very curious look on her face. People really needed to mind their own business. "Like amnesia? Is he still… you know, Cas?"

"He's still Cas. He knows who I am, was asking about you. I think this fever is really messing with him. He still has one, really hates the covers. It's all me and Liz can do to keep them on him."

Dean sighed, and stared at the judge's door. Too much had happened in the last week and he was really not mature enough to handle everything that had been thrown at him. Going to Hell? Bring it on. Lucifer has just risen from Perdition? Where's his shotgun? It might have taken him gratuitous amounts of liquor to get him through the last two years but he had gotten through them.

But this last week had made the last two and a half years look easy.

The lawyer lady stuck her head out the door, "Mr. Winchester? We really need to get this taken care of." She looked down at her watch and then back into the room, "He'll be just a minute, Judge Patterson." She turned back to Dean and gave him a 'what the hell are you thinking?' look and dashed back into the judge's chambers.

"Look Sam, let me finish stuff up here with Ben, and we'll be there ASAP, okay?"

"Okay…" Sam trailed and then his line went dead.

Dean sighed again; he knew Sam was not happy with him being here. But he was here and he was going to do this and forced himself back into the judge's chambers. Three heads all turned and looked towards him as he swung himself back into the room. The lawyer, Kristina – or some sort of 'Kris-' name – looked at him with disappointment. The judge, a portly guy with large glasses and a shiny head looked up with anticipation. And Ben, little Ben, 'not his son, but could be his son, but isn't, and is about to really and actually be his son,' Ben.

"Who was that?" Ben asked.

"Sam," Dean answered, he looked back to the judge and the lawyer, "my brother. A friend of ours is sick," he looked down at Ben. "Cas. He just woke up."

Hope lit up the ten year old's face. It was the first good emotion that Dean read off the kid in days. "That's a good sign, isn't it?"

"Yeah. It is a very good sign," he squeezed Ben's shoulder with a smile and then turned back to the overly large desk in front of him. "Where were we?"

The judge readjusted his glasses and began to read. "This is the document covering the signing over of Benjamin Braeden to Dean Winchester as acting ward and guardian in the event of Miss Lisa Braeden's death." Dean let out a very shaky breath. He didn't really think that he would be able to do everything he had done today legally, and he was overly lucky that he didn't have to use a phony name. Lisa had spoken for him in her will, claiming him to be a family friend; that he was fit to be an interim guardian if needed.

Ben played with the strings from his hoodie and Dean felt that awkward, 'I don't know what you need right now, kid' feeling that he had been feeling for days. He didn't know how he was going to take care of him… But like uncertainty was going to stop him.

The judge continued, "Dean Winchester," he pushed the paper across his desk, "by signing on this line, you are accepting sole custody of the minor Benjamin Braeden and everything that we have talked about today." Dean was handed a pen.

He stalled momentarily. It had been a long time since he signed his real name. His surname felt foreign under the pressure of the pen. But with a dotting of an 'i' and the crossing of a 't,' Dean became a father.

"Congratulations, Ben!" The judge said, pushing the paper towards the lawyer to sign as witness, and then gathering his things together. They all stood. "It's rare that a guardian adopts a ward after a tragedy like you have experienced. Most kids in your kind of situation tend to get lost in the shuffle."

"Yeah," Ben said sadly, "I'm a lucky one."

It sounded like sarcasm, but Dean threw his arm around Ben anyway. He held out his free arm to the judge, "Thank you for all your help."

The judge smiled and grasped Dean's hand, "Thank you, for what you did for my daughter. There is no way that I could repay you for her life."

He shook the lawyer's hand, they said their final goodbyes to the room and then Dean and Ben were sitting in the Impala driving back to the motel.

"You okay, Ben?"

He was still playing with his hoodie strings.

Dean suddenly felt self conscious, "You are okay with this, right? I mean, with the adoption and everything?" Ben nodded and a weight lifted off of Dean's chest.

"I used to dream up ways that you'd be my dad." His voice was soft and low, "I used to wish that you'd come back into town, take my mom on a few dates and then a year or so down the road there'd be a wedding and then you'd be my dad and we'd be one big family."

Dean smirked, "Really?"

Ben smiled up at him, "Yeah. For the longest time, I had it in my mind that you really were my dad. I mean, you fit the description that my mom told me. Cool guy, liked this kind of music, had a beautiful classic car, really strong and proud… and then you rescued all us kids. You would have been the coolest dad ever."

Dean smirked at Ben's bright eyes.

"But this…" Ben's face fell and his attention was back on his hoodie. "I never even dreamed it would be this way."

"I really liked your mother. She was an awesome chick."

"I know."

"She loved you."

"I know," Ben did this kind of snorting thing, but he wasn't laughing, "She died saving me, remember?"

Dean didn't know what to say in the silence.

But Ben, with his wide brown eyes and dash of freckles across his cheeks, did; "Can we listen to Zeppelin?"

Dean bit back a laugh, but he couldn't fight the smile that broke across his face, "You never have to ask if we can listen to Zeppelin when I'm behind the wheel."

Ben's face lit up and broke out with a smile of his own as he dove for the box of cassette tapes. Dean's world brightened with that smile. With that simple smile, the first one Dean had seen in days, he knew that everything with Ben was going to be okay.

Then he realized that he had a Fallen Angel waiting on him in the motel room and the world got darker again.