Again, an apology to those following who may have been confused. Here is the chapter in the RIGHT ORDER to set things straight (I am so so so sorry, I'll work harder to update this fic I promise in return.)

Basically, I was an idiot and posted the chapters in the wrong order, so nothing made sense :D

See, I bet this makes a whole lot more sense now.

(if you still stuck with it after all of this I love you okay thank you)

"Are you serious?" Sam snapped, as he snatched the phone from Sherlock's hand. His eyebrows creased in response, his expression comically perplexed. Sherlock's eyes flickered to his hand; almost taken away by the fact his hands were empty. Castiel could see that he obviously wasn't used to dealing with the Winchesters. At least this was reassurance to him that it was not only him that had this issue, although he could clearly see through the man's slow reaction response and dilated pupils that substance abuse could also be the case.

Humans on the whole were complicated.

"Look Doctor –"

"He hung up didn't he?" Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Perhaps mentioning the abrupt departure of his loved ones wasn't the best method of persuasion." Castiel suggested, now just about managing to sit upright, with some support from Dean. He hovered over him protectively, a hand gently but firmly pressed against his back, his other, fluttering in the air in front of his chest. It was this Dean, this petrified child, whose hands struggled to hold Castiel together was the real Dean. For once, Dean's barriers were broken, revealing the chinks in his armour. This was the scared child that Castiel had wrenched out of hell. Castiel had over time come to wonder whether he carried hell on his skin. He felt tainted –impure, though that was not surprising. He was an outcast. An angel who'd fallen, fallen for humanity

He could see no hope in Dean's eyes anymore, all of that had been leeched away, leaving this broken thing. This was the child that was contemplating saying yes to Michael. Castiel's chest ached as he looked at him. He couldn't find the words; he didn't know how to plead, how to –

The rage against Dean, that he'd felt had just dissolved into a gut wrenching ache, residing deep within himself. He wasn't angry with Dean anymore, not really. It had resigned into a bitter ache, as lingering as the hell on his skin. And looking at Dean, like this, he just wanted to curl up and sleep, even though that's not what angels do – its what humans do, its what Dean does, with his arms wrapped around Dean tightly, because having Dean in his arms would make him feel so much more substantial. Dean was distant, and Castiel was frustrated that no matter how hard he tried, how much he gave, he couldn't seem to reach him. Dean just took him for granted.

. "We're stuck in the middle of nowhere, with no impala, a busted angel and –"

"We're in Fairwater Park, in Cardiff. It's about three miles away from the hospital that Bobby was alluding to earlier. I almost tore my vessel, and all of you apart getting here." He frowned, wanting to apologise for what happened, to explain how frustrated he was with himself, his arrogance for not expecting the hospital not to be protected. He should have known better. It was simple strategy.

"It's okay Cas." Dean said quietly. "No blood no foul."

Castiel looked at Dean blankly, confused. He was covered in blood.

"Not necessarily," Sherlock added, "Many other things can allude to foul play."

Sam just wanted to bury his head into his hands. He had enough to deal with, his brother and Castiel were bad enough, but Sherlock –

His head throbbed. This was all too much. But he had to maintain control. "Right Cas, can you tell us what happened?"

"Can you give him a minute to breathe Sam?" Dean growled, his hands still supporting the angel.

Castiel gave a minute smile, bemused. "It must be protected by demons. I crashed into a sigil, this was the closest I could get us."

Dean frowned. "Is it just the hospital?"

"There's a boundary across the –" Castiel was silenced as Sam's phone began to ring. He answered immediately. "Doctor?" He immediately questioned, hopeful that the mad man had changed his mind.

"It's Chuck."

Sam's brow creased. "Chuck? What is it, I thought that you were being protected –"

"It's not important." Chuck interrupted.

Dean and Sam exchanged a glance. Dean watched him intently, burning to ask what was being said.

"I just had – needed to tell you to leave Cardiff." He hesitated before adding, "Immediately."

"Why?" Sam asked.

"It's a full frontal demon and angel battle."

"Well what have you seen?"

"I haven't gotten far enough yet. I've tried writing – but it doesn't look good for any of you. I had to tell you."

"Right."

Chuck added. "It especially doesn't look good for you Sam."

"Thanks Chuck." Sam said, hanging up.

"What do you think he means by that Sam?" Castiel asked first, having heard the whole conversation. Sam blinked, caught unaware by the confrontation. That's what you get when you're dealing with an angel. "I don't know." Sam sighed, imperceptibly shaking his head at Cas, hoping that he would know to drop the subject before Dean caught wind of the "extra warning". He'd go into overprotective big-brother mode. He was bad enough around him already. Cas subtly nodded back, seemingly perplexed.

"What did Chuck say Sam?"

"What did he propheticise?" Sherlock added, only to receive a resentful glare from Dean. Sherlock's breathing alone annoyed him. It had the distinct taste of supremacy. "He just said that there's a whole demon-angel battle going on here and that we should keep out of the way."

"Can you think of why Castiel?" Sherlock questioned, his mind already at work.

"Nothing comes directly to mind." Castiel answered. "I'd have to examine the hospital to come up with anything conclusive. A hospital healed of all illnesses and sealed off to angels doesn't really add up to anything definitive at this point."

"Why would demons want to keep out angels from the hospital?" This case stumped him. He had only scraped the surface on researching the supernatural. He'd only become fully aware of other beings at work two years ago when working on a murder case, caused by a poltergeist. His addiction had taken a turn for the worse after that. His interest in the supernatural, had bordered the delicate line of obsession.

"What symbols would we need to erase for you to get into the hospital Castiel?" Sherlock asked.

"Could we not give him a chance to rest first?" Dean snapped.

"I'm fine now Dean." He gently pushed away Dean's hands, giving a small nod of reassurance. They only moved to support him, as he slowly with some effort, managed to stand upright, gritting his teeth as a gasp of pain escaped his mouth. Relief filled Dean's features, and Castiel took pleasure in seeing such affection written in his face. Despite all odds, Castiel had yet another lucky escape from death. He was weak and sore, but alive. And that counted for something.

Despite Castiel's exhausted reassurances that he was "fine" Dean was adamant. "Where's the nearest motel?" Reflexively Castiel raised his hand to Dean's shoulder. He received a baleful glare. "No way Cas, not when you're in this state."

Castiel crossed his arms, somewhat annoyed. Sam smirked, for the first time after receiving Chuck's warning. He caught Cas glancing back at him, his eyes broaching an anxious question, searching for an invitation. Sam gave him none. Seeing that he wasn't going to budge on the topic, he simply stated, "There's a hotel called the Avenue Guest House. If you're not going to let me take the short way, it's a two mile walk."

"Right, just pretend you're stoned." Dean said, securely wrapping Castiel's arm around his shoulder. "Trust me, that is not a problem." Castiel mumbled, his eyes going slightly unfocused. "That sigil was not pleasant."

"I'll say." Sherlock drily remarked. "Perhaps you should consider ordering a taxi if its really going to be a problem for him."

"Yeah, if we were sure that the taxi driver wouldn't be a demon, or have to go to the police about the fact that our clothes are covered in blood."

"That wouldn't be a good predicament." Castiel muttered, feeling dizzy.

"C'mon Cas, you have to try and stay awake buddy." Dean hissed, as he began to drag Castiel along, as he slipped out of consciousness, into a mechanic stupor.