He prayed until he passed out. He prayed while he cooked breakfast. He prayed as he worked on vile Castor Thrice's car. He prayed every moment of his free time for three days. Castiel did not come, and he got no sign from God. He stopped praying. He finished Castor Thrice's car Friday. He was glad to be rid of the man. He looked like Cas, but he detestable. He hadn't stopped hitting on Dean. He hadn't stopped calling or creeping on Dean as he worked. Dean was this close to quitting his job and punching the man till he couldn't speak. It had been a week since the incident, Dean still felt disgusting. Every night he crawled into bed he'd look at the empty space beside him and get choked with tears.

"Okay, God. This is the last time. You didn't answer me all week, but I need you to answer me. I need him. I need Castiel. I," he was wracked with a sudden fit of sobbing, "Man, I love that stupid angel. He's the only true friend I ever had. I could tell him anything, and he wouldn't judge, just accept it. I miss making fun of that stupid fucking trench coat. I miss the way he'd count my freckles. 1302, he said. I remember. I can't fucking forget. Please, God. Please, Castiel. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry." He cried until he couldn't cry anymore. He was glad no one could see how soft he'd become. What happened to the emotionless warrior? The clichéd answer of "love changes people" flashed through his mind. The exhaustion from the tears finally pulled him under the veil of sleep.

He was dreaming, he had to be.

"Dean," the voice was low and distant. Someone was crawling into bed with him. Something smelled like sulfur and burning hair. He rolled to the sound, to the feeling. He put his arm around whatever it was. It was a dream, he was going to cherish it while it lasted, if Dream Cas was the only Castiel he could have, he was going to enjoy it. It was hot like a dish pulled from the oven, it was uncomfortable but he didn't care, even as a sweat broke on his brow from holding the hot thing close. It was rough, and gritty. He didn't care. He held it until the thick embrace of sleep blanketed him again.

The light streamed through the window, it was his day off so he hadn't bothered to set the alarm. He furrowed his brow and tried to blink away the sleep in the harsh light. Something smelled like sulfur, his instincts kicked in and he jumped out of bed grabbing the sheathed bowie knife under his pillow on the way. He couldn't believe his eyes, he must be dreaming still.

Castiel.

Castiel was in his bed.

He was singed and scorched and covered in soot and curled into the fetal position.

But there he was.

Castiel.

His angel.

The knife clattered on the ground.

The angel rolled over slowly, as if it required a lot of effort and grimacing like it hurt.

"Cas?" it was quite.

"Dean," the angel's voice was low and strained; there was a weak smile on his face. Dean launched himself on the bed, kissing the stained angel furiously. Castiel's body tensed in pain and he moaned.

"I'm sorry, fuck Cas, I am so sorry." He couldn't stop peppering kisses all over his angel. His angel. He was back. Castiel was back. Dean vowed to never lose sight of him again. "Cas, oh my god."

"Gentle, please. Dean, it's okay," the angel tried to wrap his arms around the man but it was too much effort. Dean sat back at the angel's warning and examined him, for the first time he noticed how bad he looked.

"Cas...where…What happened to you?"

"Hell," he winced and tried to situate himself in the bed more comfortably.

"Why the fuck were you in hell, Castiel?"

"I was getting your brother."

"Sam? You got Sammy out?" He grabbed the angel's shoulders, but quickly pulled back when the angel winced and breathed in sharply, "shit, sorry. Where's Sam?"

"He's in the hospital in the next town over. Admitted as a car crash victim. I couldn't…Dean I couldn't heal him as well as I should have."

"His soul? Can he walk? Will he be alright?"

"His soul is intact. It needed the most work. Getting there was actually pretty straightforward," he paused to catch his breath, talking took a lot of work in this state. "Getting out with Sam, while healing him. That's what took so long. It took fifty years in hell. I had to completely rebuild his soul. The essentials, they're still there. But there are things he won't remember, or recognize. But, he's there." Castiel stopped again to catch his breath, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to work through the pain. Dean gently held his hands.

"Holy fuck, Castiel. You're a god. You're incredible. I can't believe…Holy shit, dude."

"I'm not a god."

"You might as well be. Do you know if he's awake?"

"Coma."

"Uh, how bad of a coma? Real-life-years-of-recovery-never-the-same-avocado-brain coma, or Dr. Sexy-gonna-wake-up-a-okay coma?"

"Let me heal for a few days, Dean. I used up all my, as you call it, mojo. For the time being at least."

"But you can fix it? Is his body going to be okay?"

"I'm not sure how much I can do in that department. He was pulp, Dean. I rebuilt all I could."

"Shit," his eyes fell.

"He'll be okay. We'll find a way. His bones are all there, but mostly broken. Those mend."

"Yeah," he was quiet, he shook his head, "Shit, I'm sorry. You just went through Hell for me, again. I'm so fucking," he started crying again. "You're more than I deserve."

Castiel reached a soot covered arm and wiped a tear from Dean's cheek, leaving a little smug in its wake. "Dean Winchester, I would go through Hell for you as many times as I had too. Even if you're an insufferable prick sometimes."

Dean's jaw dropped in shock at the straight faced angel. They suddenly burst with laughter. Dean kissed the angel's cheeks and lips tenderly, tears falling and making little paths in the soot. "I'm sorry. I am a prick. I love you. I've missed you so much. Castiel, I love you."

"I love you too."

"Cas?"

"Yeah?"

"You look like you crawled out of a fire pit."

"I did."

They both laughed for a minute or two before Dean got up and walked to Cas's side of the bed, and gingerly helped him sit up. He slowly undressed the angel, and picked him up in his arms. He was a little heavy, but nothing he couldn't handle. He brought the angel into the small bathroom and set him down on the lidded toilet like he was setting down a priceless artifact. Dean undressed and turned on the water, he helped Cas stand and walk into the warm shower. Castiel stood on shaky legs with his hands on Dean's shoulders to keep him steady. Dean washed the black soot from the angel until he shown. The shower was filthy, but the angel was clean. Dean helped him back out and set him back on the toilet. He got a towel for both of them and gently combed Cas's hair so it wouldn't dry in tangles. He had burn and bite marks all over his body, Dean got the gauze and antibiotic ointment and set to work patching up his angel. He knew they would heal by tomorrow, but he wanted to take care of Cas. He wanted to give Castiel what he deserved. Not a word was said through this whole process. He picked Castiel up again and set him at the kitchen table, he made his lover an omlette and toast with raspberry jam, just the way Cas liked it. While the angel ate slowly, he put fresh sheets on the bed and went downstairs to put Cas's clothes and the soiled sheets into the laundry. He helped Castiel into the new bed and crawled in next to him.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."