Dean sighed long and hard, the man beyond exhausted. He stood at his bathroom vanity, staring into his cracked mirror. The bags under his eyes were a deep purple, and his eyes had lost some of their brilliant hue. His past week had been literal hell. With being shot to start the week off and then end it by having two of his friends shot, and…Castiel, he was beyond worn to the bone.

Dean frowned at his reflection, one hand creeping up to his bruised collarbone. He tugged the cotton away and felt a chill run down his spin at the sight of it. Any higher and Alistair would have hit his jugular for sure…Dean ran his hand over the black and yellow mark, his hand trembling a bit.

The thugs that had shot his friends had been caught not two hours after the shootout. The only thing that Dean regrets in that is the fact that he wasn't there to catch them himself. He had followed Cole and Rufus to the hospital, more forced by Bobby than anything else. He was so furious he could barely move; especially after he had seen how his friends were in obvious pain.

In his heart he knew that Bobby was looking out for him, knowing just how he could snap and go on a suicidal rampage, but he so wanted to crush a few bones…After all, it was him they were aiming for. His friends had just been in the way, and that bugged Dean like no other could.

What if Sam had been there with them?

Dean openly shuddered at the thought, quickly turning on the rickety faucet and splashing water on his face. He easily could have. He had hung out with him before at Ellen's during his lunch break, before he went back to school…but that had been before. But still, it was a possibility and that's all that mattered.

If they had shot Sam, even grazed him, they would have been dead before their damned car smashed into the pole. God, just the thought of it made Dean see red and he had to take a deep breath to calm himself.

"Dean?" Dean perked up at his name, ended with a soft knock on the bathroom door. Dean smiled at himself, looking down.

"I'll be out in a sec, Sammy. You need the shower?"

"Yeah," Sam answered simply, voice soft. Dean hoped somewhere in his heart that he really did hear a hint of worry in his voice. But that was only false hope.

"Okay. Just needed to brush my teeth," Dean said, as if Sam asked, and opened the bathroom door. He ruffled his younger brother's head as he passed him, hoping to get a reaction. Sam groaned, patting at his mop of hair and Dean smiled slightly to himself in victory. That is, until he put his foot in his mouth.

"You really need a haircut, kid. If mom saw you…" Dean stopped himself, a sharp pain in his heart. Sam paused too, both brothers feeling awkward. They stood in silence for what feel like a good minute or two.

"Just get your damned shower," Dean sighed finally, breaking the silence, and waved his hands at him rapidly without looking him in the eye…because he couldn't; shouldn't. Sam answered by shutting the door quietly behind him, leaving his older brother to plop down on the couch with a long groan, slapping his hands over his eyes.

God, he only knew how to screw everything up…

…addy!

Castiel let out a soft sob, the man tossing his head to the side in distress. He lay in a simple blow-up bed in a sparse apartment, sweat soaking through the white t-shirt he slept in. His hands white knuckled his blanket, his arms shaking in his nightmare, and his bare legs kicked at nothing. Behind his closed lids were flashes of white, and the loud grinding sound of sharp metal haunted his mind.

…Da…!

Blond hair whipped into his subconsciousness, the man opening his mouth in a sharp gasp, his eyebrows shooting upwards.

…Cas…tiel…!

Castiel's arms flew up to shield his face when stars danced behind his eyes, a loud scream tearing itself from the darkest parts of his mind and out his own mouth. He shot up screaming out loud, tears streaming down his face and mixing with his sweat. The distressed man trembled harshly in his bed, the man still in the throes of his nightmare.

"Castiel…! Castiel…!" Castiel sobbed into his arms, rocking back and forth, shielding himself from the rest of the world. From outside his one story apartment the nightlife of Chicago raged on, the sounds of ambulances and cars zooming past causing his pulse to quicken. He pressed his hands against his ears and closed his eyes shut trying to block it all out.

"…Cas…tiel!"

"Hello? Earth to Dean Winchester?" Dean blinked out of his daze as pale fingers snapped in front of his face, the man lifting his cheek out of his palm to stare up at Charlie. The red-head looked down at him worriedly, and Dean shook his head and gave her a sharp smile.

"Yeah, what's up?" One of Charlie's eyebrows rose, unimpressed and Dean shrugged at her.

"You've been staring at nothing for the past ten minutes…Are you sure you should even be here? Didn't Bobby give you a few days leave like Cole and Rufus? Hell, Dean, you've been shot at twice this week, and it's only Thursday!" Dean huffed at her, getting up from his desk to make himself look busy.

"I'm planting my ass like he wanted, right?" Not that it helped. Cole's empty desk sat right in front of him, reminding him of what had happened, and the place was ridiculously quiet without Rufus's loud mouth. Hell, did they even play music?

"Dean…"

"What do I have to do at the apartment, Charlie, really?" Dean sighed, stopping her from continuing on what he knew to be a very well-rehearsed speech.

"Watch mindless T.V?" Charlie leaned in closer, her voice softer to add, "You want to borrow my new Belladonna video? That'll give you something to do, right?" Charlie winked at his shocked look, a flush upon his cheeks.

"Maybe later," Dean said with a roll of his eyes. Charlie frowned.

"Wow, this week must've been crappier than I thought for you to turn down porn. Especially Belladonna…How is Sam adjusting?" Dean closed his eyes with a sigh, feeling his heart plummet. He started messing with the papers on his desk, trying to organize it a bit to distract himself from his dark thoughts.

"As well as any kidnapped adolescent would I suppose," Dean snapped, whacking his stapler out of his way a little too harshly. Charlie winced.

"He doesn't honestly think that, you know," Charlie murmured and perched on the corner of Dean's desk.

"He said it," Dean said silently, feeling his eyes burn. He pushed everything away from him then, his stapler plummeting to the floor now. He pressed his face into his hands, his shoulders slumped. "I did what was right. I know that; I do. But…That kid may very well hate me, Charlie. It's almost been six months and he has barely said a few sentences to me." Charlie put a gentle hand on his shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze.

"He loves you, Dean. You did do the right thing…and even if he won't admit it to himself, Sam knows deep down that what your father did was wrong." Dean's eyes narrowed into slits, the man feeling hatred grip his heart like a vise.

"One year isn't enough, Charlie." Dean said his voice like poison. "He should rot for the pain he has brought my family…my mother." He had to stop, his voice drawling in tight. He felt the tears all over again and he stood abruptly, Charlie pulling back her hand just in time. "I think Bobby is right. I'm going home." Dean rounded her quickly, voice sharp and shoulders rigid, and Charlie's eyes widened with worry and guilt.

"Dean! I-I didn't mean…" She trailed off and Dean shot her a warm smile, his pain swirling within his eyes.

"I know. Have a good one, yeah? I'm heading off to get coffee." Charlie nodded her head quickly, her eyes wet too.

Dean walked out of the police department feeling every eye upon him, and he so very desperately wanted to punch something. When he was finally out he took a deep breath, a puff of steam filling the cool Chicago air. It was loud, as usual, and Dean sighed as he went to his car. Baby was his only comfort of the day, the only thing his dad had ever given him.

"Ready for a ride, girl?" Dean murmured like he would to a pet and smoothed his hands over her smooth steering wheel, the engine purring to life almost immediately when he turned the key. Dean pulled blue and red lights out from the glove box and put them on the top of his car before he pulled out of the driveway.

He had fought Bobby hard and long over using the Impala as his car, and had somehow won, so he was going to show it off. He liked to think that he had won Bobby over by his eloquent speech. However, his won could have been due to the fact that Dean was practically a son to Bobby, and Bobby a father to Dean.

Besides, Bobby couldn't deny that Baby looked good in blue and red.

Dean's heart plummeted a bit when he passed Ellen's, the windows shattered still but no glass shards to be seen. For a split second he froze at the wheel, remembering it all. They really were lucky. No one had died. Only three civilians had been injured, and none critical. But…Dean felt the guilt, and he bore it as he did Cole's and Rufus's. Ellen and Joe told him that their insurance would pay for the damages but that it would be a few weeks before they could open again.

A honk drew Dean from his thoughts, and Dean immediately smashed down the urge to flick someone off, instead choosing to point his finger at the two lights upon his car and give the bastard a cocky as hell grin when the man flushed. Dean pulled over soon after in a parking space on the side of a busy street, his bones feeling like mush. He pressed his head against the cool steering wheel and hoped to God that anything P.T.S.D related would just go the hell away. He really didn't need that shit.

He got out the car and quickly tossed the lights back in the glove box before slamming his door shut and walking down the street with his hands shoved in his pockets. He walked down the street with a cloud of gloom and doom over his head for a while before the smells of bacon and strong ass coffee filtered through his nose. He almost drooled as he followed his nose to a crappy diner a block away, the place one Dean had passed before on his way to Ellen's. Dean looked in the window and his eyes widened at what he saw.

Castiel was sitting in there. He was sitting in there with a cup of what looked to be coffee in front of him, and was staring blanking out the opposite window, dazed as usual. Dean sighed deeply through his nose, feeling something flutter in his chest. He opened the door and walked in, nodding kindly at the woman behind the counter as we walked over to where Castiel was.

"This seat taken?" Dean asked, one hand already gripping the free chair, and felt pretty bad when Castiel jumped, the man turning to stare up at him with wide, blue eyes. Maybe it would have been better to cough first?

Dean raised his eyebrows when Castiel only shook his head. The cop thanked him as he slid into the seat, his green eyes locking with blue, curious, ones. Dean took him all in from the rumpled, uncombed hair, dirtier trench coat, ragged blue tie, and the dark shadows under his eyes that could rival even Dean's own.

"You aren't going to run, are you?" Dean asked, felt like he had to. Castiel shook his head again, his eyes not blinking. His eyes dropped to his half empty cup of coffee, a few fingers skimming across the rim. He looked like he hadn't slept in days and Dean felt an odd feeling of worry knot in his gut.

He barely knew this guy, and yet he felt worried for him? He literally just found out his name?

"Why did you run?" Dean asked and Castiel looked at him again, his blue eyes glazed over.

"I was scared," The man answered simply, his usual gruff weak, and Dean blinked at him.

"Why? Because of what had happened? At the diner?" Castiel shook his head with a soft smile, his eyes almost entrancing Dean with how blue they were.

"I don't like sirens." Castiel told him simply and picked up his coffee cup with both hands as he took a long sip. "…Bad things follow," The man finished quietly as he put down his cup, barely making a sound. Dean's eyebrows furrowed. He was getting no closer understanding this man than before…the man who saved him twice.

"I'm sorry about that," Dean murmured honestly, looking up at the waitress who came up behind him suddenly. "Yeah, I'll have the same as him. Thanks." Dean told her quickly, not waiting for her to walk away before his focus was on Castiel again. He sucked in a deep breath when he found the man to still be staring at him, his head cocked to one side. It was honestly kind of adorable…However, it was in that instant that Dean thought he remembered something…something of Castiel? His eyes…

"You're probably wondering why I'm here, right? Showing up suddenly…" Dean trailed off, looking Castiel in the eyes. "Kind of like you this past week. I'm sorry, but I have to ask. Have we met? You have saved me twice this week, and I know nothing about you…" Castiel's eyes widened and he looked down again, sadness deep in his eyes.

"This city's quite large, so perhaps we have. Those men…they were going to kill you," Castiel murmured and narrowed his eyes at the end. "I-I was frightened of them, and you fought so bravely…Then you went down." Dean's eyes flickered down to the tightened grip Castiel had on his mug, his fingers trembling. "Sirens…They were ringing in my head, and I felt coldness in my heart."

"Sirens?" Dean asked and Castiel blinked up at him like he had just given away something big.

"Don't," Castiel told him simply, his shoulders rigid. Dean closed his open mouth, hundreds of questions swimming in his head. He chose another instead.

"They could have killed you too, Cas. You know that, right?" Castiel's eyes widened a bit at the nickname, and Dean's did too hoping he didn't cross a line.

"Cas?"

"U-uh, yeah," Dean said awkwardly, feeling his cheeks heat up. "That okay?" Cas gave him a soft smile and nodded, his eyes still sad.

"…Cas…tiel," Cas murmured once, to himself, and Dean almost missed it, but Cas blinked out of it and continued on, "I knew that, but I needed to help you because…"

"Because?" Dean prompted, but Castiel's eyes were glazed over again and he stared out the window like he had when Dean had first saw him. Dean felt sickness seep into his heart. What had happened to this man? What had broken him?

"Cas…?"

"I had to…because you…" Castiel looked at Dean then, silently, his blue eyes hollow. "You…sav—"

"Here's your coffee, sweety!" Dean could have cursed out loud at the interruption, looking up at the overly cheery blonde with a forced smile. He blushed to himself, however, when he realized just how he was invading Castiel's personal space. He pulled back with a blush that he knew affected his face and his ears, because he could feel it.

"Thanks," He retorted sharply and paid no mind to the steaming mug in front of him. He turned to look back at Castiel again and only caught the sight of tan and blue, again. Castiel was walking past him?!

"C-Cas, wait!" Dean rambled and about overturned his chair with how fast he stood up. Castiel stopped and looked back at him, the bruising under his eyes looking more pronounced.

"I have finished my coffee, Dean." Dean blinked at him, slightly annoyed. He looked back at Castiel's cup and found it to be true. When he turned back around Castiel was already out the door. Dean cursed and plopped back in his chair. He had not paid yet, and he couldn't very well just leave.

"Uh…I take it that you're paying for his too?" Dean blinked at his waitress again, the woman looking at him expectantly, holding two receipts in her hand.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean growled and snatched both receipts.

A/N: Hey guys! Long chapter, woo! :) How're you liking it? Thanks to all who have followed and faved! Leave me a comment on your thoughts?

Best wishes as always,

Lthien