The first time Castiel woke up, he was frightened by his blankets. The second time, Dean had his hands on his shoulders and was gently rocking him. His eyes were groggy. If sleeping was going to become a permanent part of his existence, he really did not like having his eyes be all sticky and heavy. He was not used to having to close his eyes, and it was new experience.

"Cas?" It was Dean.

"Mmm," Castiel answered.

"Come on, Cas, wake up," Castiel felt the bed move, and he was certain that Dean had sat down. He tried opening his eyes again. This time, the back of Dean's hand brushed against his forehead. It was cool and soft, and suddenly, Castiel was happy that Dean was there.

"Hi…" he said weakly, but with a giddy smile.

Dean smiled back, "Hi. How are you?"

He felt himself frown, trying to find the words. "I'm Fallen."

"Yep," Dean looked guilty; Castiel was confused as to why. "You okay?"

"How long have I been asleep?"

"About a day and a half and about half a day short of me and Sam taking you to a hospital. You're not as hot as before, I think your fever is going down."

"It is easier to concentrate than before."

"Good…" Dean sat back.

The blankets were beginning to constrict him again, and Castiel started to fight them. "What's going on with me, Dean?"

"You Fell, Cas." Dean tightened his jaw and hated himself for sounding so lame. "You're going to feel strange for awhile, I imagine."

"I feel confused. And tight. And hot. And heavy."

"What are you confused about?"

Castiel pushed himself further down into the mattress while he tried to push away his blankets. Dean only sighed and pulled them back up. Castiel moaned and threw them off as far as his arms would throw them.

"Ugh!" he groaned, "Why does everyone keep doing that?"

"Pulling the blankets up? We need to break your fever."

He sighed and stared up at Dean, "And how does making me hotter help get rid of a fever?"

Dean blinked, "It just does." He reached for the blankets again. This time, he let Dean pull them up to halfway up his chest. Which was grey and v-shaped.

"When did I change clothes?"

Dean smirked, "You were kinda bloody Cas, and we had to make sure that you didn't have any deep cuts or anything. Leaving the factory after you passed out there was a… a…" Dean laughed, "…a bit of a cave in. The place fell in on us as we were leaving. Maybe you got hit on the head and that's why things are fuzzy for you and why it took so long for you to wake up. Liz got hurt pretty bad. A big ole gash in her leg."

A cave-in? Confusion clouded up his mind and made everything difficult to decipher. "Factory?"

Dean sat back down on the bed, "What do you remember?"

"I remember Falling. It hurt. And…" he closed his eyes in memory, "…it was bright."

Dean nodded and patted him on the knee, "Anything before that?"

Eyes still closed, he tried to recall the memories. "Paris."

Dean raised his eyebrows, "What?"

"There was a little girl, in a yellow dress?" The memory was fuzzy, but it was there. "She spilt her glass of water. She saw me." The memory began to get darker, fuzzier, like a fog floated around in his head, covering up what he wanted to see. "I had to leave after that."

"Where'd you go?"

He focused on the fog, trying to make it go away and then suddenly, Castiel looked up at Dean, eyes wide, "You called me. You were bored and alone in the car."

He smiled, "Yeah. That was about a week ago. Before everything happened. Anything after that?"

He concentrated, and pushed against the fog. He sighed, "Not really."

"So," Dean sat up straight. "Falling you remember. But nothing leading up to the Falling?"

He shook his head, "Something about a deal with Lucifer, to get everyone out. I'm guessing he had you prisoner somewhere?"

"Me and five other people."

Castiel blinked, concern rocking his concentration. "Are they all okay?"

Dean looked away from him. "Those six are all alive. That's what counts."

Satisfaction ran through him, and he smiled. He saved lives. He stood up to his brother and saved humans, saved Dean Winchester and therefore humanity. Happiness bubbled in the back of his neck and, surprisingly, in the heels of his feet. And then he frowned and stared at the ceiling.

His heels.

Not his vessel's.

His wings gave a flutter at the thought, but when he glanced to look at them, they were not there. It was a phantom twitch. He shook and, for the first time, was thankful for the blankets covering him. He felt naked and suddenly his mind was on the human's story of Adam and Eve and how they first felt nakedness. Humans were silly with their self-conscious emotions. He shook with laughter.

Why was he laughing? Things were serious, he had lost his wings, and it was not a laughing matter.

'Bet my wings were a sight to see when Lucifer took my Grace,' he smiled to himself, happy about his tiny victory.

And then he was confused again. His eyes open and curiously pointed at Dean. "How'd you get kidnapped?"

Dean stared at him momentarily, mouth hanging open. He blinked a few times and then shook his head, "You sure you're okay, Cas?"

"Yes," Castiel answered. "What is wrong with knowing how you were kidnapped?"

"Nothing, it's just…" Dean ran his hand over his mouth and jaw. It had been a long week. "Maybe we should wait for your fever to break before you learn the whole story. Get some rest."

Now that Dean mentions it, he is a little tired. The pillow surrounded his ears and the sounds of the room began to get muffled.

"Don't leave me…" he grumbled over his shoulder in Dean's general direction. He settled for a tiny moment before he snapped open his eyes and took in a sharp breath. His hand came out from under the covers and gripped onto Dean's arm as he almost shouted, "I don't want to be alone!"

Dean took Castiel's arm and laid him back down, "Shh, don't worry about that. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here. I promise…"

At Dean's proclamation he relaxed. The feeling flowed through him like wax and everything became slow and soft and sleepy.

And once again, Castiel was asleep.

"How's Bobby doin'?"

Sam looked up from cleaning his guns as Dean walked in, "Just called, said they'd be back by lunch."

"Awesome." One issue down, about a million more to deal with. Including a kid in the room in front of him, a Fallen Angel in the room behind him, a pissed off brother in the room with him, oh - and the Apocalypse on his shoulders.

One thing at a time… "Ben in the other room?"

He kept walking as Sam nodded. For a motel, this one was decent, it had a kitchen space and they had three consecutive adjoining rooms, which was nice considering all the heads they currently had in their party.

"Dean," Sam called, leaning back in his chair, "you sure adopting him was the right thing to do?"

Here it comes. "Dude. He needs some kind of… stability."

Sam's nose crinkled. "And you think a hunter's life can do the trick? Especially ours?"

Dean sighed and then turned to face his brother, and licked his lips. "He's never going to be normal. Never gonna have a normal life. Not after watching his mother…" Dean stopped and adjusted his shirt sleeve. "He's wanted by both sides, just like you, just like me. No matter where he goes, he's never gonna have the perfect life, but in this one, with us, he'll be able to deal with things and not have to hide things."

Sam turned back to his guns, "I know where you're coming from." Dean's eyebrows rose. Three hours ago he was all gung-ho about not adopting Ben. "But is now the time to be taking in kids? I mean, Lucifer is still out there, stronger than ever! It's just…"

Dean sighed – he'd been doing a lot of that lately – and walked up and sat down with his baby brother. "…just one more thing to worry about?"

"Well… yeah. Why do that to yourself?"

Dean looked at the door that held his newly-acquired son and thought of how Ben acted down in that factory pit and how he was strong and holding it together until Lisa showed up, and how broken Ben was after Lisa was just laying there. And the promise that Dean made to him in the few short moments that followed that.

"Look at it less like one more thing to worry about, and look at it more like one more thing to fight for."

Sam blinked, and reached for his beer bottle. He didn't say anything.

"Sammy, he needs us. End of story." And with that, Dean walked into the third room to talk to his son.

"Hey Ben," the boy was just lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

"Hi, Dean." He turned his head to look at the hunter. "You do know I could hear every word you said to him, right?"

Dean pursed his lips, "Nope. Guess it doesn't matter."

"How's Cas?"

"Huh?"

"The Angel? How is he?"

Dean moved to sit down on the bed, "Still has a fever. He doesn't remember anything from the last week or so… I think he got hit on the head when the roof caved in."

Bed nodded, it had been quite chaotic. It was a wonder nobody was seriously hurt…

"Speaking of which," Dean said, shifting gears. "How's your back?"

Ben looked up, "You want to check it?"

Dean smiled. He had been holding this joke in ever since he put on the last bandage, "Yeah! We want to make sure that it doesn't get infected and we have to slice a whole layer of skin off your back!" He waited for a reaction of fear from Ben, but when all he got was a 'psh, yeah, right,' face, Dean was disappointed. "What?"

"I'm ten, not five. I know they won't do that."

Dean reached for the medical supplies they had left on the table from the day before. "It would have worked on Sam when he was ten."

"Really? And he went to college?"

Dean leaned in and lowered his voice, "You're only saying this stuff because you know he can hear it right?"

"Yep."

"I knew I adopted you for a reason." Ben giggled and suddenly Dean's 'To Deal With' list didn't seem that daunting.

Dean heard the familiar whine of Bobby's van outside the motel about four hours later. He had re-cleaned Ben's cut and the two of them settled in to watching some television and snoozed when the noon news came on and warned everyone of more snow.

Ben shook him awake, "They're back." He sat up slowly and began to dig the sleep out of his eyes. Ben was staring him, expectantly.

"What?"

"The stairs? You and Sam had to lift him last time…"

Realization hit him. Bobby. That car sound was Bobby, "Right." He groaned and jumped up. Walking back through the second room, Sam was already halfway out the door to help. Dean stopped.

"Dude," he hollered, "where's Liz?"

Sam turned back to him, "Cleaning snow off her truck. This shit has been coming down ever since you got back."

"More snow?"

Sam nodded and shrugged into his coat.

"I hate Indiana." Sam let out a bark of a laugh and couldn't help but agree. Dean then eyed his brother, "You still trust Liz? You've spent more time with her than I did."

Sam pulled on his coat and took a deep breath, "Yeah, Dean, I do." His eyes were open and innocent. Dean felt himself relax; there was no guilt or weight in Sam's eyes like there was with Ruby. He was telling the truth.

"I mean," Sam continued, "If it weren't for her, we would have never found you guys. She may be new to the game, but – she's a good hunter."

"And…" Dean trailed. "Most hunters, when they find out just how the Apocalypse started, tend to turn on us…"

"I don't think she will. I mean, the way she talks, her and Jo were pretty close. She knows that Jo trusted us, and she trusted Jo, so she trusts us."

Dean nodded and clapped a hand on Sam's shoulder. He reached for the door handle. "She's still not sleeping in my room."

Sam snorted, "Big baby…"

"Damn right."

By the time the brothers were outside, Bobby had found the one and only wheelchair ramp all the way at the end of the building. "Took you nincompoops long enough. I'm fine." He began to push himself through slush and snow past the boys into the motel room. He waved over his shoulder, "Help the little lady."

"I'm not little," came a voice from behind the van. A swoosh of hydraulics filled the parking lot as the back of Bobby's van lifted. Sam rushed out to help, but Dean stayed to make sure Bobby could get over the hump of snow that had formed at their door.

"Hey Bobby!" Ben greeted and the old hunter answered by scuffing up Ben's hair. He used to do that to Sam and Dean when they were little. Dean smiled and began to push him in but Bobby swatted at his hands as Ben took over wheelchair detail.

"Help your brother."

Behind the van, stood Sam holding a large duffle bag and a backpack, hand on the door of the van about to close it.

Claire Novak stood next to him, shivering in her coat and staring at something in the back of Bobby's van. Dean peeked around to see what it was. "Need any more help, Claire?"

"No," her voice was small. "It's just strange to think everything my parents…" she bit her lip. "Everything of theirs is sitting in these boxes, waiting to go to storage."

Sam looked at Dean, uncertain of what to say. Dean took a deep breath and adjusted his boots in the slush. "You know this is for the best, right? Otherwise you'd…"

"I'd go into the system or back with my Aunt and I'd be vulnerable and in the open." She said it like a robot, listing her commands. "Easy demon target."

"Right."

She fingered a strap to another bag, as if she were trying to decide something. She pulled it out and pushed it into Dean. "These are some old clothes of my dad's. T-shirts, sweat pants, a pair of jeans. They're for… him." She never looked Dean in the eye.

"Thank you, Claire."

She looked up and was changed; where the weak and small girl once stood, now stood a strong and angry young woman, familiar blue eyes wild and fiery, "Do not expect me to be okay with all of this."

"I'm not."

She stepped into Dean's space; shoulder's square, "That man is wearing my father! It's because of him I'm in this situation."

Dean shut his eyes, "I know."

She looked back down, the strong young woman melting back into the little girl. She took her backpack from Sam and wiped at her nose. Dean looked at his brother and slumped his shoulders as he settled down against the bumper of the van.

"She's gonna be fun," Sam said as he readjusted Claire's purple duffle bag.

Dean wiped his face, his cold hands feeling good against his stubble. He needed to shave soon – he hadn't in a couple of days – he'd been too busy. Looking up at his little brother he let out a puff of air that became white in an instant.

"We couldn't just…"

"I know. This may all be crazy with Cas out of it and a couple of little kids running around, but it feels right."

Dean felt his eyebrows meet. "Mr. We're-fine-on-our-own is suddenly Mr. Family man?" He felt the corner of his mouth rise.

"Dude," Sam's nose crinkled again. "Move." He began to shut the back of the van, "Besides – I'm not the one who just adopted a kid, and I'm not the one whose boyfriend is passed out in the other room."

Dean gave him a dirty look as he stood and moved away, "Bitch."

The door slammed shut, "Jerk."