Warmth… touch – bodies! Feeling people close by, hearing their voices and the heat radiating off them, Dean's eyes rolled open. He was gazing up at two blurry figures, kneeling by him in the pale light. He took a quick breath and blinked rapidly. They were too blurry, but that smell… Was it…? His jaw worked but nothing came out. He couldn't even ask who it was. His entire body was limp, aching with cold.

Hot hands pressed against his forehead and his body, checking his wounds. It made him writhe in joy. The heat to his chilled skin was a miracle; he pushed his frozen flesh into the calloused fingers. They covered every inch of him gently, but with more fever, wanting to answer his needs. The second figure moved around to grab the discarded knife on the floor and cut his bonds. The zip tie fell away. The freedom of his arms was apathetic. He hardly moved; he couldn't.

A ragged sob immediately identified the one touching him. "Dean," Castiel whispered, and the more Dean blinked the more he could make out the tears in those baby blues. Hands supported the back of his neck. Warm lips pressed his forehead. "We're here. Hold on."

The warmth slid away for a moment, and Dean almost whined for it, but not a heartbeat later warm arms were around him and he was rising off the ground. Shock woke him up. Dean stared up at Cas in surprise. "Jesus," he managed to murmur, green eyes wide. Cas had picked him right up - off the damn ground! Since when was he this strong?

But Cas's face was half determined steel and half devastation. All he could do was turn to the other figure and say something Dean didn't understand. It didn't matter anyway. Dean was slipping away. Castiel's hot chest and neck and shoulder and cheek became Dean's heaven. He soaked it all up, drinking in the smell of his borrowed aftershave greedily as the boy shuddered against his ice. Castiel didn't react to his temperature otherwise. He cradled Dean like he was a toddler, his arms like steel girders.

Then they spoke again and things began to move. He was being slightly jostled, which he wanted to complain about, but figured it didn't matter enough. He was dying anyway. Dying against Cas was enough. He'd put up with anything to die like this.

Then there came bright light, and warm air. Slowly, slowly, he was thawing. Then the jostling got worse. They were running. Bobbing madly down the hall, the pair of them were sprinting for sunlight. But there was none. It was night by now – and the air outside was less chilly than inside, and considerably less so than the freezer, but winter was coming.

The air had a bite to it, the wind reaching out eager hands to snatch away what little heat Dean had to himself. Then the wind was gone. Doors slammed. There was a lot of loud shouting, and large bangs, and gunfire. Dean heard Sam, and other familiar voices, then the figure with Castiel was yelling. He climbed out of the car and ran into the other voices.

Moments later, he was back, and other car doors slammed, and his car door slammed. Then they were in the car tearing away down the road with Castiel whispering feverishly into Dean's ear. But the former hunter was already unconscious against shoulder.

Cassy… The ground was so hard to get to. He was floating, weightless, like the sky wanted him, but he needed his feet to touch the earth. He wanted to feel the dirt between his toes and the grass tickle his ankles. He needed the wind and the trees, and his brother, and his lover. Flying was great and all, but it wasn't him. He didn't even like planes, dammit. His hands reached out and snagged handfuls of dirt. Somehow, that anchored him. He felt his shirt billowing around him and his skin prickled with cool air and his wrist ached. But he was lowering. Slowly, so slowly. He tensed his arms with desperation. Refusing to let go was fueled by pure will.

Around him, the world began to fade bit by bit. His knees were inches from the ground. Every shock of the breeze trying to carry him away made him more determined. He pulled the earth to him with all his strength. Then, as the sky overhead vanished, and the dirt between his fingers was all that remained, his knees hit the grass. His heart swelled with joy.

"Cassy…" Everything was heavy all of a sudden. His weightlessness was gone. And the pain… He felt it in every crack, every crevice, every inch of his battered body. He was here. Groaning, Dean pinched his eyes and tried to open them, forcing the weights off his eyelids. Everything was too bright. "Damn." He muttered, his voice guttural and sluggish. "Who was doing jumping jacks on my chest?" He demanded. His voice swam around in his head like a barrel of fish.

"Gabriel," came Sam's voice. Dean turned his head to see a Sam blog sitting on the end of his bed. "You and hospitals, man, what the hell?" He teased.

"Shut up," Dean grumbled moodily.

Sam chuckled. "Your, uh, 'Cassy,' is asleep over here, do you want to see him?"

Dean nodded at once. "Please, Sammy." He looked around wearily. Hospital room again. He was sick of these damn white walls, and his wrist ached like crazy. His ribs and his arms and legs… he felt like he'd gotten hit by a truck all over again. Well, close. Anyway, he dreaded any sort of movement, but he strained to look over to find Castiel.

Sam had gotten up and walked over to the couch on his other side. There, Dean saw Castiel curled up under his big tan coat, dark smudges under his eyes. It put an arrow through Dean's heart. He looked so tired and so ruffled. His nose and cheeks were pale with blotchy red patches, as if he were sick, or had been crying, which was more likely. When Sam put a hand on his shoulder Castiel drew out of sleep like he had been doing something wrong. He grabbed his coat with big clumsy hands and struggled out from under it. "Hmm… What?" Cas asked worriedly as he lifted his heavy head and squinted up at Sam. "What's wrong, is Dean…?" His head whipped around and Dean gave him a tired smile. In a flounder of movement, he took his sleep-leaded arms and legs and scrambled to Dean's side, leaning heavily on the bed for support. His coat fell into the cushions. "Dean!" He said with strangled love in his tone, his blue eyes wide.

His hair was sticking up in every direction and he looked like he hadn't shaved in a week. Dean wanted to so badly reach out and touch his stubble, rub his neck, work his fingers soothingly through that sex hair. His arm and hand and fingers burned with it. Every fiber of his heart bled knowing he hardly had the strength to lift his arm let alone comfort his lover. "Cas," Dean whispered. "Jesus, it's good to hear your voice. Are you ok? What happened, are you hurt?"

"No," Cas said as he reached out and took Dean's hands, threading their fingers gently. His warmth was like an old memory. It brought bursts of need ripping through Dean's chest. "I… I'm all right, they didn't get to me."

"Thank God." Dean heaved a sigh of relief and shut his eyes. "Sam – Sammy, are you all right?" He opened his eyes and actually looked at his brother, and sat he had scars on his arms and stitches on his forehead. But his eyes were soft and his posture was easy.

"I got into a bit of a scrap with those guys. Benny and the rugby guys and me," Sam explained. "We came out on top, though. They were pretty rough."

"But anyone who goes against Sam is obviously ludicrous," Castiel muttered, and they laughed. Six foot, four inches of concentrated teddy bear; Sam smiled and shrugged like it wasn't much, but they knew he was fierce in a fight.

"Benny, huh? Damn. So tell me what happened." Dean used a bit of the pain in his chest to keep him awake as he sat up a bit, and Castiel helped him prop the pillows to keep him up. When he was settled his hand was sliding back around Dean's with a gentle need. "I was out for all of whatever happened, fill me in."

Humming, Sam got a thoughtful expression on his face and glanced off, trying to recall details. His hair shimmered in the hospital light but he just pushed it out of his eyes with practice.

"Well, they locked you in the freezer with Zachariah, Gabriel, and Raphael guarding you," Castiel offered. Dean's eyes went to him and soaked up his pale face, his stubble, the electricity in his eyes. "And I used Samandriel to get passed Zachariah, who was on his own doing a perimeter."

"You did what?" Dean demanded.

Sam and Cas glanced at one another. "I forgot you didn't know." Castiel apologized. "Samandriel was a ghoul, and he was after you. He seemed to have a vendetta, it wasn't clear why."

That sank in slow. "A ghoul. So Samandriel was dead. I was talking to a monster the whole freakin' time." Dean said quietly.

Nodding, Castiel reached out and put a hand on his forehead. "You didn't know. No one did." He drew his hand back, and Dean's eyes were on him. "But he was after you specifically, and Sam found him, all tore up that you'd been taken – really upset. Dean, he agreed to help us out, just so he could be the one to get you. Like he was desperate that you had to be his next meal."

"And you guys, you let him just tag along?"

"Well… We let him loose on Zachariah, and when we ran out with you in tow, he had vanished. We haven't seen him since," Castiel explained. "We haven't left your side in three days waiting for him to come back – but he hasn't showed. He's gone off the radar."

"Three days," Dean whispered. "I'm losing time this year, boy."

Castiel nodded. "After that, Balthazar and I snuck into the hall, and hid outside while Sam and Benny made a distraction."

"Yeah," Sam picked up. Dean's eyes went to him then and took in his tired smile and the wrinkle of his clothes like he'd slept in them. "We had a few bombs we found in one of the boxes inside. So we used them to blow up the opposite side of the building. It wasn't much – it hardly dented the doors – but it got their attention."

"They ran right passed us when they heard." Castiel added.

"Yeah. And the two of them against the five of us? No chance," Sam laughed, "Benny and me wiped the floor with them. But they got in a few good swings." He shook his head, looking up at Dean. "When we went to leave, though… Michael showed." He exchanged a look with Cas and cleared his throat, making it clear something else was up.

"Well what?" Dean questioned eagerly.

"Michael took them all on," Castiel said quietly from his side. "He's very powerful. He was up against Sam, and Balthazar had to help him take him out. I was in Balthazar's car with you and he just…"

"It seemed too easy," Sam finished. "I was wrestling with the guy pretty hard core before Balthazar just came up and picked him right up and flung him around a bit. And Michael just didn't get up after that." He shrugged suspiciously. "It was weird, man. But Raphael said something to me before he passed out. He said… 'Looks like our fallen angel has a new master.'"