Mary sat next to Castiel's bedside, listening to his labored breathing. The bunker was quiet with her boys gone, so every strained gasp seemed too loud. He would cough in his sleep every once in a while, a concerning rattling sound within the wheeze.

The good news was that his temperature was finally going down. Despite his half-hearted efforts to bundle himself in blankets, she patiently removed them every time. She was relieved when his fever broke around 1 in the morning.

With the last of the shivering dying down, he struggled to consciousness. Mary noticed the change in his breathing and scooted her chair closer.

"Hey," She said softly.

He groaned, and his eyelids fluttered open. Mary was again surprised at the depth of those intense blue eyes. Even when clouded by delirium, his stare was piercing. Despite his weakened state, she felt vulnerable next to this eternal warrior of God.

"Where..." He rasped, and struggled to sit up.

She helped him lean back against the pillows and brought a glass of water to his lips, letting him take a few small sips.

"You're in the Bunker."

"Dean. Where's Dean?"

Mary smiled. "He's on a hunt with Sam. Werewolves, remember?"

"Oh. Yes."

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine." He coughed.

Mary raised an eyebrow. "That might work on my boys, but not me. How are you really?

"I'm...sore." He admitted reluctantly. "But I don't know why. I haven't physically overexerted myself recently."

"It's probably from the all the coughing. And the shivering, you've had a fever." She explained sympathetically.

He turned his gaze towards her once again, a look of surprise on his face. "Have you...been here all night?"

She nodded.

"You didn't have to do that; watch over me." Castiel said, looking slightly guilty. "I'm sure your bed is more comfortable than that chair. You look tired."

"It's the least I could do." Mary shrugged. "You've been watching over my boys for years."

"I do my best." He stated proudly.

She smiled. "It's funny, I always told Dean that angels were watching over him. I had no idea how true that would turn out to be."

"Not all those angels were good." Cas said, eyes shifting away. "I was not always good. Sometimes I still worry that I do more to hurt than I do to help." There was regret in his voice.

Mary gently laid a hand on his arm. "Castiel, I don't know what you've done in the past, but I know you're on our side now. I can see how much you care about my boys. They trust you with their lives, and so do I. We're lucky to have you"

"Thank you." He looked touched.

"Of course." She yawned.

"You should get some rest." Castiel observed. "Go. I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, of course. I feel much better than I did." He tried to give a convincing smile, but ended up muffling a cough.

"Hm." She hummed doubtfully.

"I will call for you if needed." He said quickly.

"Alright..." She said reluctantly. "Do you need anything before I leave?"

"No. As Dean would say, I'm 'Aces'."

She chuckled. "Okay then. Goodnight, Castiel."

"Goodnight, Mary."


Mary awoke to the smell of something burning, and for one horrible moment she thought she was back on the ceiling. She abruptly sat up and let her gaze sweep around the room, affirming that she was in fact still in bed in the bunker, and not burning.

She took a deep breath to calm her racing heart. The smell was more of a food-smell anyway, not burning flesh. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and made her way to the kitchen.

The source of the smell became apparent when she saw Cas standing over the toaster. She cleared her throat, and he spun around.

"M-Mary. I didn't expect to see you awake this early." He stammered.

She glanced at the clock. "It's 7:00, I'm an early riser."

"I know, but you stayed up with me last night, so I thought you'd be tired."

She smiled. "I'm okay. What are you doing?" She gestured to the blackened toast.

He sheepishly slid the burnt bread into the garbage. "I was trying to make breakfast. I don't normally cook. The last time I was human, I worked at a convenience store, and everything was pre-cooked."

Mary had to bite back a giggle. An Angel of the Lord couldn't make toast. "See these dials on the side here? You can set it to cook your toast a certain way. You've got it up way too high."

"I'm sorry." He said, looking down.

"It's okay, Castiel. That's how you learn." She smiled. "Let's try that again. I'll make some eggs, you're in charge of the toast."


After breakfast, Mary took his temperature again. She frowned. "You still have a slight fever."

"I feel better though."

"That's good. You're not coughing as much either, but you need to take it easy. Things only get worse when you don't give yourself time to recover."

"So I've noticed."

She looked him over. His cheeks were slightly flushed, and his shoulders were hunched. "You don't have to hide it from me, Castiel. I know you're miserable." She said softly.

He muffled a cough. "I'm doing better."

"Yes, but you're still sick. Your chest hurts, doesn't it? That's why you're not coughing as much."

"Maybe."

Mary frowned. "I'll be right back." She returned with two small pills in her hand. "Tylenol. Take these, you'll feel better."

He took them, but looked doubtful. "I'm still an angel. I'm not sure if these will have an effect. It takes an entire liquor store to get me drunk."

"Hmm...well, wait for those to kick in, and you can take more if you need to. Come on, let's get you back to bed."

She followed him to the bedroom to make sure he was actually going to rest.

"Thank you." He said as he climbed beneath the blankets, looking more like a child than an angel.

"For what?"

"Everything. Your kindness...you didn't have to stay with me last night, and take care of me...I'm sorry for being a burden." There was a vulnerability to his tone, and Mary sat next to him.

"Oh, Cas. You're not a burden." She said. "I promise. It's not a problem; I'm a mom. I take care of people, it's what I do."

"But I'm not your son." Castiel said, confused.

"You might as well be." She touched his arm affectionately. "You're one of my boys now."

Cas's mouth fell open slightly, and he looked shocked. "I consider that a great honor...thank you."

"Of course." She paused. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yes."

"What's your family like? Were you ever...a kid? Or do angels just...I don't know, start out as adults?"

Castiel smiled. "I was a fledgling, yes." His gaze grew distant. "My primary caretaker was my brother, Gabriel." He looked sad. "I miss him sometimes. We were so close..."

"What happened?" Mary asked softly, not wanting to dredge up painful memories.

"He couldn't stand the fighting anymore, so he left. Not that I blame him. Things were never good among my older brothers."

"I'm sorry. Do you still talk to him?"

"He's dead."

Mary's heart broke for him. "I'm so sorry, Castiel."

"It's okay...It 'is what it is' I suppose."

"Do you have any other family? Aren't all angels your brothers and sisters?"

"They're supposed to be, yes. But I'm not welcome in Heaven anymore." He looked away. "I told you, I've done horrible things. My brothers and sisters want nothing to do with me."

She took his hand. "You have a family here now. You've done so much for my boys, for me. Like I said, you're one of us. You don't need to feel alone."

"Thank you." He whispered, deep blue eyes shining with tears unshed.

"Of course." She kissed his forehead, a gesture of affection he was unfamiliar with. "Get some rest. I'll be in the library if you need anything."