It was the last time. The final injection. Three days of misery had come to an end.

"GImme that thing," Dean said. "I'll do it."

"We promised him no more plans," Sam reminded him.

"I'm not planning anything. I'm just gonna go in and do it."

"Are you sure that's wise?" asked Cas.

"He's feeling better. He'll listen to reason now."

"We're here to back you up."

"Fine. Back me up from outside the room. I'll call you if I need you."

Dean shoved the needle into his jacket pocket and knocked on the door.

"Who is it?"

Dean resisted the urge to make a smartass remark. "It's me."

"It's open."

He went in to find Gabe sitting on the edge of the bed. When Dean approached, the archangel looked up, a bit apprehensively.

"So this is it, then? The last one."

"Yup." Dean pulled the chair over and sat down. "So listen, Gabe . . . I'm sorry about stabbing you in the ass."

Gabe waved a hand in the air dismissively. "You did what you had to do. Just don't enjoy it," he added with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Dean took that as a good sign. The old Trickster was on his way back.

"How do you stand it?"

The question took the hunter by surprise. "Stand what?"

"Feeling so weak, so helpless. Your body betraying you."

"Oh. Well, um . . . of course, I don't get sick-"

There was a noise from outside the door like someone stifling laughter.

"Shut up, Sam."

"Dude."

Dean shut the door firmly with his boot. "Anyway, like I was saying, I don't get sick, but I do get hurt. A lot. And there's only one way to get through it."

"What's that?"

"Together." Dean wasn't normally a touchy-feely person, but he put a comforting hand on Gabe's arm. "You're part of our family now, and we'll always take care of you. Just don't pull stupid crap like that revenge thing again."

"It had to be done."

"Yeah, well, you could have waited till your grace had recovered a bit more. You almost bled out all over our motel room."

Gabe shifted a little to face Dean directly. "Look me in the eye," he said, "and tell me you wouldn't do the same, if someone hurt you. No-if someone hurt Sam."

Dean didn't even hesitate. "You know I would. But I wouldn't go in without backup."

"I had backup. I had you guys."

"Look, we could debate this all night, or we could get to the point, which is: you don't need to be afraid. We're here for you, dude. Now let me give you the friggin' injection, and we're done here."

Gabriel rolled up his sleeve (one of Dean's old shirts this time, still big but not quite dress-length on him) and looked away. "I never want to see or be anywhere near another needle ever again," he said. "When it comes time for that spell you need, I'll give you my grace. No one else touches it. I'll extract it myself."

"Sounds like a plan," said Dean. He jabbed the needle into the exposed skin and pressed the plunger. It seemed to take a long time to empty, but maybe that was just because this was the last time Dean or anyone else would have to do it. Finally the yellow liquid was gone, and Dean withdrew the needle and put it back in his pocket.

"There we go," he said. "Done. That's it. No more."

Gabriel turned his eyes towards Heaven and breathed a sigh of relief.

"You're welcome to stay here as long as you like. We've got your back."

"I said I'd help you," Gabe said. He stretched out on the bed and rolled over so that he was on his side, facing Dean. "Just don't ever-ever-stab me in the ass again. Or any other part of my anatomy."

"I guarantee it." The angel really was looking a lot better. "You need anything? Food, water, help to the bathroom?"

"No. I'm good. Just hand me that remote, would ya? Please?"

Dean picked up the remote from the floor beside the bed and handed it over. "Here you go. Whatcha watchin'?"

"Ah, it's not what," Gabe said with an impish grin. "It's who."

"Huh?" Then Dean saw the BBC logo. "Oh, right. Well . . . have fun."

"Dean?" he called, before the hunter could make it to the door.

Dean turned back. "What?"

"My brother seems to think that . . . we're alike. You and I. That we both hide our pain in sarcasm and . . ."

"Yeah, I can see that." Dean smiled. "He meant it as a compliment, you know. In case you were wondering."

"Oh, I know. I've seen the way he looks at you. Give him a big squeeze for me, will you? You know you want to."

"Why does everybody think," Dean exploded, "that Cas and I want to . . . you know? I like him! He's my friend! But I'm not into that!"

The angel chuckled. "Methinks the flannel-clad idiot doth protest too much. I've seen the way you look at him, too. Close the door on your way out."

"I do not-"

"Yeah, yeah. Goodbye, Dean. I want to watch my program."

Dean shut the door behind him, resisting the urge to slam it. Sam and Cas were nowhere to be found. Just as well. Dean didn't think he could face Cas right now anyway, not after what Gabe had said.

"He's out of his mind," he muttered to himself. "There's nothing goin' on between me and Cas. I don't care how he looks at me."

From out of nowhere, a shower of paperback books landed on Dean's head. He brushed them away, then bent to pick one up. Then another. They were all the same book. The cover showed two men who looked remarkably like Dean and Cas in what could only be called a lovers' embrace. The title was ANGEL IN YOUR ARMS.

Dean just shook his head and laughed. "Guess that means he's better."