The angel turned as Dean grasped his shoulder.
"… Dean?"
"Yes, It's me, pal. I'm gonna pick you up, but you gotta help me man."
Cas merely nodded. The hunter pushed an arm under Cas's legs, and the other on his back. He gave the angel an alarmed look as he groaned in pain, writhing in his arms.
"Cas? What? What?"
Castiel breathed heavily through clenched teeth.
"Nothing, Dean, it's noth—"
He stopped mid-sentence, biting his lip hard as pulsing, sharp, unbearable pains from his back shot through his body. He felt nearly paralyzed.
"Damn it—Hang in there, Cas—I got you buddy—C'mon…!"
Gingerly as possible, Castiel was set into the leather passenger seat, Dean swearing under his breath all the while. He was mad. Mad at Cas, mad at Metatron, mad at the world which was always so friggin' crummy. Something was always wrong. Dean was just sick of It.-sick and tired. He dangled his arm over the back of his seat as he backed up, leaving the way he came down. He gritted his teeth, the stale silence making him anxious. He cast the angel a glance. His long lashes rested on lower eyelids. He drew long, steady breaths through slightly parted lips. Castiel was asleep.
The sight made Dean's stomach turn. It would've been normal, well—if angels slept.
"Great. Just great."
Sam looked over at his brother as he kicked the bunker door open, clutching Castiel tightly in his arms, rushing down the stairs and laying him on the nearest bed.
"Sammy—Alcohol, floss, needle, pronto!"
Dean had stitched up countless wounds. Hunting wasn't any joy ride, after all. Yet, this time, something was different. Something about stichin' up Cas made Dean squeamish as hell. I mean, Dean Winchester, squeamish? It never happened. Nothing really got to him—well, and what did, he just shoulder off and made a big joke outta it. It was just his thing. Nothing bothered Dean.
But, Cas?
This bothering Dean, bothered Dean. Cas had screwed up before—Cas had screwed up before bad. Cas screwed up Heaven, Cas screwed up Sam, Cas screwed up Purgatory, Cas screwed up Cas, and then he turns around and Cas screws up Heaven again.
Hell—they all screwed up.
Sam freed Lucifer, and brought on the freaking apocalypse—but, hey-the kid cleaned up after himself. Heck, Dean wasn't any saint either. Half of Dean pitied the guy. Cas either messed up with good intentions, or Cas got taken advantage of with "good intentions". The other half was still kinda pissed off. Every time, Dean had warned Cas. He warned him not to absorb all the souls in Purgatory, he warned him not to trust Metatron.
Cas just never listened. All Cas did was follows his childish desires on a whim, not stopping to ask himself, "Am I really doing the right thing here?" He didn't doubt himself, he didn't hesitate to ask questions-he just acted, and it was always Dean was left to sweep up after him, left to grieve when Cas really did himself in. Dean couldn't trust Cas, because Cas didn't trust Dean. Not completely, at least.
If Cas truly trusted Dean, he wouldn't have stolen all the souls in Purgatory. He wouldn't have run off with the damn angel tablet. He wouldn't have teamed up with Metatron and expelled all the angels from Heaven.
Cas really was just a child-and unfortunate Dean was really just his provisional caretaker.
But don't misunderstand. Cas may've been a pain in the neck, and Dean may've been done cleaning up after him, but Dean still loved the guy-loved him like a brother. He'd die for him and he knew Cas would do the same. They, as Cas put it, had a "profound bond."
Cas rescued Dean from Hell, Cas rebelled and went as far as falling from grace to help him. Cas, years in the future in the midst of the apocalypse was even then still fighting by Dean's side. Dean sometimes wondered what made Cas stay. What was in it for him? What made Cas want to come back to Dean Winchester, 90% crap?
Why did Cas even bother? He was a friggin' angel, for Christ's sake-one of the most powerful, douchey beings Dean'd ever had the misfortune of knowing. Why would a warrior of the guy upstairs himself even give a damn?
He pondered over these thoughts as he rinsed his hands of blood, giving his face a splash of cool water before he turn the handles and shut off the faucet. That's when he heard it. A scream from the front room, and Sam's voice yelling out.
"Dean, he's up! Hurry, he's in pain-DEAN!"