I have listened to Dean Winchester's heart for more beats than I could ever count, in more places than I will ever remember. I have lain against his chest in lazy rest, in excited exhaustion, in abject sorrow. It was a sound, his heartbeat, that helped solidify the reality of his return for me.

It does not sound the same through a monitor, though that beeping, too, assures me of his life. As does the hiss of the respirator, and the ever-present scuffle of nurses' feet. These things would not be necessary if he was gone.

He's not gone. Lying across the hospital bed in ICU with my ear as close to his side as the wires allow, I can hear his heart. I can feel his body move as breath is forced into his dangerously damaged lungs. He's not dead, Alastair did not succeed. It remains to be seen if the experience has broken him. The doctors have not yet given a clear prognosis of full recovery. And we, Sam and I, know that his mind, his spirit, are not yet out of the woods, not yet assured of repair.

Sam is . . . Sam. He's back to his mild, worried, helpful, thoughtful self. Angry at the wreckage that is his brother's body, worried about me and the inevitable breakdown to which I have not yet surrendered. He sits there in his chair and stares, watchful for any change in Dean, much as I am doing lying here next to his heart. He jumps up suddenly and hurries from the room. Through the blinds in that protect the false priacy of the room, I see him catch up to Castiel.

"Get in there and heal him. Miracle. Now," sam demands, and I agree completely. I get up from my seat and move closer to the door and out of the way, in anticipation of the angel's entry. And am shocked. Though i spent the entire time I was in that room with Dean and Alastair wading through a mental fog, I am clear as bell now. I just can't believe what Castiel is saying.

"I can't."

What the hell does he mean, he can't? Sam is even less accepting of his answer.

"You and Uriel put him in there—"

"No," Cas interjects, sounding so dejected and hopeless . . . and guilty.

"—because you can't keep a simple devil's trap together," Sam finishes, undeterred by the quiet protest.

"I don't know what happened. That trap...it shouldn't have broken. I am sorry."

"Water," I croak out. I haven't spoken much since we got here.

"What?" they both ask as they turn to look at me in the doorway. I'm not leaving this room, not until Dean wakes up, but I'll talk to them from here.

"There was water all over the floor by the trap," I explain. "It was all over my dress. It was soaked."

"Water?" the angel confirms.

"Yeah. It corrupted the trap. I didn't notice until...until it was too...too late," I stammer, ashamed once again at my inability to save Dean, to keep him safe.

"WHAT?" Sam roars. I don't blame him. "You were on the damn floor, Jane!"

"I, I , I don't know! I don't know what happened! It was like I was thinking through pudding. I knew what my thoughts were, but they took a while to make sense. I'm sorry!" And the tears that I have not let fall yet, begin to fall now.

"It isn't your fault," Castiel tells me as he takes a concerned step toward me. "Are you thinking more clearly now? Since you left the room where Alastair was kept?"

"Yes. Yes, almost immediately after Sam walked in, actually."

"It doesn't matter," Sam yells. "This whole thing was pointless. You understand that? The demons aren't doing the hits. Something else is killing your soldiers, Cas."

"Perhaps Alastair was lying."

Sam drives home his point, "No, he wasn't."

Pushing between the angel and where I stand, Sam apologizes to me and makes certain that Castiel knows he is no longer welcome. He has been dismissed. Sam pushes past me and sits with his brother again.

"I have to go, Jane. I promise I will be back. I hope to have some answers for the questions I know you must have," says the angel, almost seeking my blessing, I think. My benediction.

"Cas."

"His brow raises at the endearment. "Yes?"

"So much about this is wrong. Be careful."

He smiles and walks away, looking for a place where it is safe to fly.

We know that there are so few safe places anymore.

But one of those places is by Dean's side, no matter where that my be. I shuffle back to my chair, suddenly so tired. So tired. I resume my position beside his heart, and drift asleep to the sounds of his beeping heartbeat, his hissing breaths, and the scuffle of nurses' feet, under the watchful eyes of a man I'm not sure I know.

I awake once after a couple of hours when the doctor removes the breathing tube. I take this as an invitation to crawl into bed with my man. The nurses protest, but were suddenly silent when they saw the look on my face. The doctor spoke up, Sammy stood up, and that was the end of that. I awake again when Sam gets up and slips out the door, whispering in my sleepy direction that he is just going to eat. Then I snuggle so very carefully back up against the one or two unbruised patches of Dean and fall back to sleep.

This time I awake to the sound of my name.

"Jay," Dean calls with great effort. "Baby, wake up. Are you okay?"

"Me? You're worried about me? I'm fine, Dean. I'm perfect. Welcome back to consciousness, baby," I tell him, kissing his face a lightly as I can.

"He didn't hurt you?" He is so worried. I know this is not the right time to discuss his brother.

"No. He never touched me."

Before anything else can be said, we hear wings.

"Are you alright, Dean?" Castiel asks from the chair where I once sat."

"No thanks to you." He's so angry, blaming Cas like I knew he would. Honestly, he has the right. He should never have been in that damn room. It isn't for me to take that anger from him.

"You need to be more careful."

Dean snaps, "You need to learn how to manage a damn devil's trap." For him, such a simple task.

"That's not what I mean. Uriel is dead."

"Was it the demons?" I ask.

"It was disobedience. He was working against us. Jane, it was Uriel who clouded your mind. He didn't want you to be of any help to Dean. It was he who caused the pipe to leak."

"Winged dick bastard son of bitch," Dean mutters. He's still in there, protective, demanding, foul-mouthed. My Dean. "Is it true? Did I break the first seal? Did I start all this?"

We are both terrified to have our fears confirmed.

"Yes," he replies in that even, deadpan way he has. "When we discovered Lilith's plan for you, we laid siege to hell and we fought our way to get to you before you—"

"Jump-started the apocalypse," he finishes.

"Dean, stop it. It wasn't your fault," I try to reassure him, but he turns his bruised and cut face away from my comfort.

"And we were too late."

"Why didn't you just leave me there, then?"

I have to get off the bed at that question. I'm afraid I'll grab him and shake some fucking sense into him. "Don't you say that. Don't even say it!"

"It's not blame that falls on you, Dean, it's fate," Cas explains quietly, gently. Then stiffens. "The righteous man who begins it is the only one who can finish it. You have to stop it."

"Lucifer? The apocalypse? What does that mean? Hey! Don't you go disappearing on me, you son of a bitch. What does that mean!"

"I don't know."

"Bullshit."

Cas has to admit, "I don't. Dean, they don't tell me much. I know our fate rests with you."

"Well, then you guys are screwed. I can't do it, Cas. It's too big. Alastair was right. I'm not all here. I'm not—I'm not strong enough. Well, I guess I'm not the man either of our dads wanted me to be. Find someone else. It's not me."

The angel does not stay when Dean begins to lose it, when the tears he would never want anyone but me to see start falling. But I have to talk to the man that I have seen inside the angelic persona.

"He trusts you, Castiel," I call out to him once I am well beyond Dean's hearing behind his room door.

"You don't?"

"I don't know. I trust him," I tell him. "I will always trust Dean."

"As do I. But you accepted I was an angel much easier than Dean did when I first appeared to you. Yet you mistrust me now."

"I don't understand your motives."

"I seek to stop Lilith from-"

"I get that part. I mean your motives toward Dean. Is he only your weapon? Is he only the means toward an end? Is he nothing more than the Righteous Man? Cas, you say you need him. But will you protect him?"

"Jane…"

"You feel regret. I can see it. But Dean is the one who is suffering. Are you willing to deserve the trust he places in you?"

And that's the question that will take him a very long time to answer.

A/N: The end. Thank you for reading, and especially to those who reviewed! Any ideas for the next episode Jane should invade? I think I know, but I'm curious what you think.