A/N: Hello, all!

So yes, the rating has been brought down. To make this a more tame version with regards to sex (which will not happen for a few chapters). Not that there won't be sex in here, just that it will be implicit. Still promise to make it sexy, though. Just not graphic. ;) You want the raunchy, graphic stuff? AO3 is the place for that. :)

So here goes. Sammy gets some care and love. :)

5. It Was Just an Escape

Dean holds on to Sam's shoulders as they hide in a small gap in the walls. Still unconscious, Sam sags against cold stone, and Dean lets him rest there, clenching his fists so he can fight. Castiel slips into an adjacent gap, holding his steel silver blade in his hand, alert. Castiel had explained hurriedly how they needed to get Uriel out of the way before they could even attempt to escape.

They'd somehow managed to fight off a few and lose the other angels who'd chased them thus far. Castiel had said that Uriel was a lot stronger than he was and that they'd need to take him by surprise. The whole prospect makes Dean nervous because what's he supposed to do with Sam while he fights? What if they take Sam away?

Dean watches as Uriel rounds the corner, readying himself for what's going to follow. When Uriel is close enough, Dean steps out of his hiding place. God, this is a horrible plan and he just knows it.

"You!" Uriel charges towards Dean. He starts, raising his hands, but Uriel is too quick. He picks Dean up by the throat. "You better tell me where that betrayer Castiel and that monster brother of yours are, Winchester. Or you won't be alive to see him from here on out."

Dean chokes, struggling to breathe. Crap, he never knew angels were this strong. Uriel's hands are so fucking cold and they're clenching at Dean's windpipe, slowly draining the life out of him. Anytime now, Cas, Dean thinks as dark spots start to enter his vision.

As though he were reading Dean's mind, Castiel steps out behind Uriel and stabs him through his neck. There is a choked scream, blood, and Dean's on the floor, holding on to his breath, trying to locate Sam. When his vision clears and he stands up slowly, Uriel has dropped to the floor, eyes wide but lifeless.

Dean coughs and gasps. "Could have come out a little sooner, dude."

Castiel shrugs and heads over to Dean's previous hiding place and picks Sam up again. "Take Uriel's blade. You'll need it," he instructs before hurrying down the passageway.

Dean picks up the blade and follows after the angel.

~o~

Dean hadn't realized how far off from the exit they were until he could feel stitches in his side and had difficulty catching his breath. He looks at Castiel and admires how the man looks a lot less out of breath than Dean. His gaze then falls on his unconscious brother, draped over Cas's shoulder, and it's all he can do to stow away his worry and concern and concentrate on getting them out first.

They meet a few other angel guards along the way, that with a little effort and a few hard bruises, Dean manages to knock out. Castiel fights with him too, and Dean watches him stand his ground, all the while protecting Sam. He feels like he can maybe trust the guy.

They wind their way through the tunnels, taking a route that Dean doesn't recognize. Castiel explains that it'll be easier to not catch the eyes of the guards patrolling about with the route he takes them on. However, about ten minutes from the exit, Dean slips on the uneven ground and falls with a loud crash, alerting three angels they were trying to sneak past at the end of a hallway.

From there it's a flat-out sprint for both Dean and Castiel. He lets Cas take the lead and soon enough, Castiel motions for Dean to open up a large black steel door set firmly with a latch. Grunting, Dean pulls on the latch, straining for a few minutes before unlocking the door and pushing it open.

He runs out first, holding the door open for Cas, who is still carrying Sam. He then slams it shut and turns around, only to have an arm circle around his neck, a silver blade held threateningly against it. He sees blond hair and he can tell it's a man. Dean bends over backwards, as the man keeps a surprisingly firm grip. Dean's blade falls from his hand, leaving him defenseless.

"Samandriel, no!" Castiel yells.

"What are you doing, Castiel? You are not supposed to be out here, let alone with one of those monsters," Samandriel snaps at him.

"Sam is not a monster."

Despite his situation, what with a knife held to his neck and all, Dean finds himself really appreciating that Cas uses Sam's name, treats him like a person. Yet again, he finds himself happy that Sam had been treated with some sort of decency all those years that Dean wasn't there to protect him.

"He partakes in Azazel's work. How is he not a monster?" the angel snarls, still not having lowered his weapon. Dean struggles and winces when he feels the knife break through skin ever so slightly.

"No!" Castiel yells again, seeing the small trickle of blood from Dean's neck. "Samandriel, I don't have time. It's too long of a tale to spin at the moment. Just know this much. These children in there? Nothing they do is in their control. They're brainwashed and tortured beyond any means we'd ever been trained to handle when we were sent out to protect mankind. You said you still believed in our cause, yes?"

Samandriel looks suspiciously at Dean and then back at Castiel. "Yes. I've always believed. No one deserves to live like this. If I could help it, I wouldn't be rotting here guarding this exit, now would I?"

Castiel nods along. "Then believe me when I say, this is for that cause. Please. You've always heard me out, seen reason. Please see reason this once. We don't have much time. The guards that were chasing us will be out that door any second, intent on nothing but killing us. Or worse."

Dean gulps audibly as he feels the blade push against his throat again. He sighs in relief when Samandriel lowers it the next minute. "Okay, Castiel," he says, shooting Dean an apologetic glance. He picks up his blade and then runs over to Castiel's side, hastily wiping at his neck.

"You can come with us," Castiel says. "Leave this wretched place. Maybe even find others and work for the cause we were meant to once again."

The angel hesitates, uncertain. At that moment, the door behind him bursts open and the other angels stumble out, snarling when they see Dean and Castiel.

"Go!" Samandriel yells. "I'll hold them off, go!"

Dean pulls on Castiel's arm and they start running the opposite way. Dean chances a glance back to see one of the angels plunging his blade right through the scar on Samandriel's neck before forcefully pulling it back out. He drops instantly to the ground, dead. It's all Dean can do to not upchuck as they run. He grits his teeth and keeps running, tearing his gaze away from the fallen angel.

"We need to get to the car before they catch us!" Dean yells to Castiel as they sprint past a corner and onto an abandoned street. He tries to get his bearings. They run past an overturned, destroyed car when he spots the bar he'd entered with his flimsy ass plan and suddenly, he knows where they are.

"I know where to go! Just follow my lead," Dean tells Cas. The angel nods, straining slightly under Sam's weight, yet he still keeps perfect pace with Dean. Dean now understands why the angels were supposedly strong enough to take over the demons.

If it were Dean carrying Sam, they probably would have already been captured and killed by now.

Dean finally spots his sleek black Impala just a few feet away. "There!" he yells, pointing towards it. Castiel grunts, sprinting faster, and Dean does his best to keep up with him. He rushes over to the car and unlocks it just as Castiel reaches the back door.

He opens it up and carefully lays Sam inside. He then hurriedly gets in the passenger seat while Dean scrambles up inside behind the wheel and jams his key in the ignition. He turns it once and the car revs and sputters, dying out.

"Goddamn it, baby. Come on! Not now!" he yells, frustrated.

"Dean, they're here," Castiel warns, spotting the demons no more than ten feet away from the car.

Dean frantically turns the key again, and the Impala refuses to start.

"Come on, baby. You got this," he mutters under his breath. "Yes!" he cheers as the car finally gives a loud roar and starts. He slams his foot onto the accelerator and watches in relief as the demons fall behind, the Impala gaining speed each second.

None of the inhabitants in the car speak another word as Dean hightails his way through the ruined city, towards the nearest ghetto he knows.

Dean just keeps glancing in the rear view mirror, towards his still unconscious brother.

They did it. They fucking did it. Sam is alive, and they got him out of there. Dean smiles and takes a deep breath. No matter what happens next, Dean feels a part of him heal itself, even though he knows that other parts of him are shattered beyond repair. Dean has his brother back. Dean has Sammy back.

~o~

"Where are we?" Castiel asks as he stares out the window looking towards the wooden gates they are slowly approaching. The gates extend on either side, forming a border on all the sides of the ghetto. Not much, but enough to protect the people that live there.

"One of the ghettos. I know a guy named Dave here. We'd helped drive away some demons when they got a hold of this ghetto a year back. He'd said he owed me, and I figure now's as good a time as any to cash in that favor. We need to lay low for a while," Dean explains.

"Do you think they'll be able to find us here?"

"I hope not."

They slowly approach the gates and watch as one man with short, spiky, dark hair and a healed gash on his left cheek holds cautiously onto the pistol in his holster and approaches the car, knocking on the window.

Dean lowers the glass. The man grins as he sees the familiar face. "Well, if it isn't Dean Winchester."

"Hey to you, too, Brian. You mind if we come in? I need to talk to Dave."

Brian purses his lips. "You can go in. But the blue-eyed guy and that dude in the back stay out here."

"They're with me, Brian –"

"Well, duh, they're with you. If they weren't, they wouldn't be in your car now, would they? Sorry, man. We gotta be careful, you know that. You wanted to talk to Dave, you go in yourself. If he says so, then these guys can come in."

Dean turns to Cas. "I'll be back in a sec. Also," he then reaches out and pulls up the collar of Castiel's trenchcoat, fingers brushing over scarred skin. "Not that it's a big deal, but if these guys see your scar, it could cause a problem. Dave may owe me, but we're not the best of pals, either."

"Okay." Cas gives half a glance towards the back seat.

"It'll be fine. I'll be back in a few," Dean says and exits the car.

~o~

They should have thought this through. Sam was bound to wake up sooner or later. Dean and Castiel look at each other and then towards Sam who is sitting in a corner of the room, knees up to his chest and arms around them; glaring at the two people before him.

Dean had managed to convince Dave to let them stay for a day before he found somewhere else to go. Dean knew it was dangerous to stay for too long. As for Sam, he'd made up a flimsy story about rescuing a survivor on the way to the ghetto. The less people knew about Sam, the better.

Sam had woken up a few minutes into entering the small room they'd been allotted on the bottom floor of an abandoned three-story motel building since they were only there temporarily. According to Dave, people passing by on the way to other ghettos was not uncommon and so they'd cleaned it out and somehow made the motel more 'livable'.

As soon as Sam had spotted Dean and Castiel, he'd leaped off the farther of the two single beds in the room and tackled Castiel to the floor. He'd then landed a solid punch to Dean's face, bruising his nose before trying to escape out the door.

Castiel, however, had gotten to his feet by then and had pulled Sam back before he could reach the door.

Dean's memory is a little hazy on how they'd managed to calm Sam down, what with a bloody nose and all, but he knew it had something to do with Cas. He remembers seeing the angel never loosen his grip on Sam and saying something over and over. Sam slumps, abandoning his struggle and retreats to glaring at his brother and the angel while being curled up in a corner of the room.

Dean winces as he takes the cold washcloth off his nose, making a face at the large spot of blood on it. "What did you say to him?" Dean asks, gingerly touching his nose to make sure it's not broken.

Castiel tilts his head. "What do you mean?"

"I heard you mumbling something to him when you were trying to calm him down."

Castiel hesitates. "Well," he stalls. "In the beginning, when he still remembered you, he would…"

"He would what, Cas?" Dean asks, impatient.

"Sam used to put up a lot of fight, in the beginning when he and the others would be taken to…Nick. He'd scream your name the whole time, struggling to not be taken. When he would come back, he would usually be scared and in a lot of pain and sometimes, he'd…he'd think that I was you. I remember him calling me Dean a lot of the time, especially after those sessions. He was going through a lot, Dean and he really needed reassurance and I think his mind may have let him believe I was you to let him have that comfort. He kept asking me to tell him that things are going to be okay. It stopped a while later, after Jessica was brought in. Sam just gravitated to her after that," Castiel explains.

Dean's heart breaks. He doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know how to react. Knowing that the first person Sam had wanted all those years was Dean, and that Dean hadn't been there for him, just completely obliterates something inside of Dean.

"So that's what I was telling him. That it was okay. And he calmed down."

Dean just licks his lips to avoid answering Castiel. He clears his throat, claps Castiel on the shoulder in silent thanks, and gets to his feet. He maintains eye contact with Sam as he slowly makes his way towards him, hands up in surrender to show that he doesn't mean any harm.

"Is it okay if I come there?" Dean asks, stopping a few feet from Sam, who has somehow made himself look even smaller with each of Dean's approaching steps.

Sam doesn't respond. He looks uncertainly towards Dean, still wary.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Sam," Dean says, trying to ignore how much it hurts that Sam doesn't recognize him in the slightest. "I just want to help; talk. See if you're okay."

Sam slowly lowers his knees slightly.

"I promise. Pinky promise," Dean says, somehow hoping it'll jog Sam's memory.

Sam hesitates some more before finally giving a small nod. He pulls his knees back up to himself, wrapping his arms around them. He then shifts a little so that his back is not touching the wall and Dean remembers the brand on Sam's back.

He struggles to keep his anger under control and makes a mental note to go over to Dave and ask for some medical supplies so he can make sure Sam doesn't get an infection.

Dean slowly walks over to Sam and sits down cross-legged in front of him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I just wanted to get you out of there."

Sam remains expressionless, staring at Dean.

"We're out, okay? You're out of that place. No one is going to hurt you, again," Dean says gently. He grits his teeth when Sam flinches at the word 'hurt'.

"Sammy, it'll be okay. All right?"

Sam looks up, surprise in his eyes. He then takes a few seconds before swallowing, eyes narrowing and blinking, with an expression that clearly says, okay.

Dean notices how Sam is trying not to be too close to him but ignores it. He shouldn't be blaming Sam for reacting the way he is. The kid's been through hell, literally, for the last four years. If anything, Dean should be proud of how Sam's still held up.

But somehow, there's nothing but misery, anger, and guilt inside Dean. He pushes his feelings to the back of his mind and concentrates on making Sam trust them a little more. Enough to not let him be a problem for them later on.

"I'm a friend. I won't hurt you. I'm Dean, that's Castiel," Dean says, pointing towards the angel who's still sitting on the bed, watching the interaction between the brothers.

"You know him, right?" Dean asks.

Sam waits a little, and then twitches his head in a positive reply. "Good," Dean says, steeling himself. He never thought he'd be in a situation like this, where Sam seems to recognize a random angel but not his own brother.

Dean starts to say something further but stops when he hears a buzzing coming from the left. He spots a radio on the bedside table. He recalls how a few years ago radios were used to convey common news about demon whereabouts and information about new ghettos; that practice had soon been abandoned when the demons had found out about it and had taken down a large number of ghettos using the information from the broadcasts.

Dean wonders why it's buzzing after all these years and carefully gets up and walks over to the table, turning the frequency dial. The buzzing becomes a low mumble. He turns up the sound dial and feels a chill run down his spine. He'd recognize that drawl anywhere.

"To all that may be listening, I, Azazel, commander and ruler, ask for your help. You see, a certain hunter named Dean Winchester is of very great interest to me. He'll most likely be travelling with two other male companions. I will be sending off my soldiers to every settlement we know to search for this man. If you have seen him, or have given him shelter, we expect you to comply. If you give him and his companions up willingly, we will offer you full immunity and enough rations to keep you alive for the next ten years. You will never hear from us, or be harmed by us again. But if you fail to do so, my wrath will obliterate anyone and everyone who decides to hide and protect this fool of a man from me.

"That is my offer. Turn over Dean Winchester and his friends, alive, and I will never lay a hand on you again. But protect him, and you'll face the consequences."

The broadcast shuts off and leaves the room in silence. Dean's heart thumps loudly in his chest as his mind immediately starts working out ways to get out of here. There is no way they can stop at any other ghettos now.

"Dean, what do we do?" Castiel asks.

"We need to get out of here, now," Dean says, running a shaky hand through his hair. "Keep watch and tell me if you spot anyone."

Castiel doesn't say another word. He immediately stations himself next to the window near the door, keeping a look out.

Dean hurries over to Sam. "Sammy, I need you to listen to me. You don't have to trust me completely if you don't want to. I just need you to listen to me, you think you can do that?"

Sam gives Dean a fearful look.

"Look, some bad guys are coming, okay? And they may not like us. I need you to stay with me. Don't run off, don't do anything. Stay with me and you'll be okay."

Dean watches as Sam contemplates his words and feels himself slump in relief when his brother nods after a long, nerve-wracking moment.

"Okay, you think you can get to your feet?"

Dean feels like he almost sees his brother when Sam immediately works on getting his feet under him. The look of determination even after all these years somehow instills a hope in Dean that he'll get his brother back.

"Cas?"

"I cannot see anyone, Dean. We'd best be heading out."

Dean walks over to the middle of the two beds and picks up his unpacked duffel bag. He joins his brother and Castiel by the door.

He steps out first, looking around and spotting no one. He then ushers the other two out and they start jogging towards where Dean has parked his car, a few minutes away from the motel. Just as they duck behind an abandoned shop, Dean hears yelling and footsteps making their way to what Dean presumes is the motel.

"Brian, lock the gates!" he hears one of the men yell.

"Dammit," Dean curses under his breath. He looks to his side to see Sam's fearful yet composed expression. "Okay, follow me."

They hurry past two other buildings, narrowly avoiding bumping into the men and women patrolling the ghetto.

Dean spots his car amongst other vehicles set a few hundred feet away from the main gates. He deposits his duffel in the back seat.

"You okay sitting in the back or you want to sit in the front with me?" Dean asks Sam in a low voice.

Sam makes his way into the back and Dean tries not to let it bother him that Sam doesn't want to sit shotgun. He shuts the door after Sam and gets into the driver's seat just as Cas gets in next to him.

Dean starts up the car, wincing at the loud roar—it's bound to attract attention.

"Fuck it," Dean mutters under his breath and peels out from between the cars on either side of him. He slams his foot on the accelerator, heading straight for the wooden gates of the ghetto.

"Stop!" Dean hears Brian yell. He's holding up his pistol, then Dean notices his partner pulling at his arm.

"We're not supposed to kill them, you idiot!" he yells.

Dean hesitates for a second before completely flooring it and making a beeline for the gate. Through the rearview mirror, he can see others running after the Impala, their own guns raised.

"Brace yourselves, guys!" Dean yells as he nears the gate. Brian and his partner jump out of the way and Dean smashes right through the wood and onto the street ahead. He grits his teeth and works to keep control of the car.

Dean chances a glance at the rearview mirror again, and sees the ghetto fade off into the distance, the inhabitants finally becoming smaller and smaller.

As Dean tries to rack his brain for another place to lay low, he hopes and hopes that the demons leave Dave and his ghetto alone. It wasn't their fault that they decided to provide shelter to Dean, Cas, and Sam. Dean tries not to let it get to him that if he knows how the demons operate, and he probably does, that ghetto will be wiped out soon.

And it'll be his fault.

~o~

"Thanks a lot, Bobby. I'll keep you in the loop. Stay safe," Dean says as he hangs up and chucks the phone into the glove compartment.

"Bobby says there's a cabin in Whitefish, Montana. It's a few hours' drive from here. Used to belong to a hunter friend. The demons, or angels, for that matter, won't find us there," Dean says.

"That is good news," Castiel says.

Dean gestures to Sam. "How's he doing?"

Castiel looks towards the backseat. "He's still sleeping. Do you think something is amiss?"

Dean eyes his brother carefully. Even if it's been four years, he knows Sam like an open book. Something is definitely wrong. He keeps his hopes up, though.

"He's probably tired out. Hungry. We haven't had a bite to eat in quite a while now. There'll probably be something at the cabin, I'm hoping." Silence falls in the interior of the Impala as Dean drives, following the directions Bobby had given him.

They're all tired and bruised. Dean knows he has to check on Sam and his injuries. He'll have to fix himself up, too, once he's sure Sam's okay. Cas doesn't look too worse for the wear. Hell, he looks the least beaten up out of the three of them.

A few hours later, Dean gets off the main road and follows a barely recognizable trail for about an hour, which finally leads up to the cabin. Dean parks the Impala on the the side of the cabin and gets out. He slowly opens the back door. Keeping one hand in front of him to shield himself, he slowly pats Sam on his elbow to wake him up. Just as Dean expects, Sam leaps up, instinct making him reach out defensively to protect himself.

"Sam! Sammy! Hey! It's me. It's Dean!" Dean says loudly. "No one's hurting you. You're okay. It's okay."

Sam stops struggling after a few seconds, with Dean holding on tightly to Sam's arms to stop him from hurting anyone. Dean lets go once Sam calms down.

"You're okay," Dean says, looking right into Sam's eyes. He smiles when the fear subsides from them.

He tries to help Sam out but backs off when his brother gives him a hostile look. As he watches Castiel lead Sam into the cabin, though, he can't help but feel a little jealous. Sam is more comfortable with Cas than with Dean, and dammit, this just isn't fair. He is Dean's fucking brother.

Storing yet another emotion in the back of his mind, he gets his duffel out of the car, locks the doors, and walks into the cabin.

It's cozy inside. The wall on the right is lined with a sink, some cabinets, a stove, and a microwave to create a small kitchen area. In the middle of the cabin sits a large table with a few chairs around it. The sitting area has a worn-out couch and an old TV on a cabinet. There are two doors to the left, the locked one a storage unit according to what Bobby had said, and the other the bathroom. Dean walks in, following Castiel and Sam to the very back where, to the left is a small, single bed, a chair at the foot of it, and to the right is a decent-sized bunk bed. A fireplace is set against the far wall between the single and the bunk bed.

Dean deposits his duffel on the top bunk and walks back to shut the door while Cas settles Sam onto the single bed and gets to his own bunk below Dean's.

"Come on," Dean mutters under his breath as he picks the lock on the storage room door. If there's one place that would have a few medical supplies, it's here. In a few seconds, it's unlocked and he gets in, climbing down the stairs to the bottom. The room is filled with arrays of shelves and storage cupboards that are full of all different items ranging from alcohol to jars filled with substances Dean doesn't want to know about, and other boxes filled with miscellaneous items.

Dean searches between the shelves, looking for a first aid box.

"Yahtzee," he mutters when he finds one labeled 'first aid'. He takes it off the shelf, wipes off the age-old dust, coughing in the process, and quickly walks out of the room, closing the door behind him. When he's upstairs he gets back to Sam, determined to take care of all the injuries on his brother right the fuck now. Sam flinches slightly as Dean approaches him but doesn't react otherwise. Dean decides to let it slide and kneels in front of his brother.

"You hurt?" he asks, giving Sam a chance to say he's okay with Dean tending to him.

Sam shakes his head and Dean almost snorts. Typical.

"Well," he says, "you've got some wounds that wouldn't be pretty if they got infected. I can help you with that. Is that okay?"

Sam takes a few seconds, and holds out his hand for the first aid box.

"Good try," Dean mutters as he ignores it and sits beside Sam. He feels relief when his brother doesn't object. Removing the supplies, he carefully starts tending to the small cuts and bruises on Sam's hands, legs, and face. Sam flinches a little with the sting of the disinfectant but says nothing otherwise. Before, Dean would try to distract Sam, and they'd have a playful banter between the two of them. This feeling, though, is completely alien to Dean. Sam's never been this quiet, this…different.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually Dean's made sure that the deeper cuts are bandaged and the other bruises and smaller cuts have been tended to.

He wants to take a look at the burn on Sam's back but isn't sure Sam will let him just yet. He tries to lift up Sam's shirt and realizes it's a mistake when Sam retreats to the far corner of the bed, hissing angrily and then grunting in pain when his back touches the wall behind him.

Dean holds his hands up, placating. "Sorry. I should have asked first. Can I look at that? It hurts, right? I can make it hurt less. Only if you want me to."

Sam grits his teeth, gulping a few times while clenching and unclenching his hands on the mattress.

Dean recognizes the agitated movements and gets to his feet.

"If you don't want me to see it, I won't. But it won't hurt any less if you don't do something about it. I'm not going to hurt you, Sammy. I promise, and if you want," he swallows resentfully, "I'll let Cas take care of it."

Sam scrutinizes Dean's expression and keeps staring at him as he slowly comes back towards his brother. He sits down again and and faces his back to Dean, giving his consent for Dean to help him.

"I need you to take the shirt off. Okay?" He clenches his fingers in the hem, gesturing, and Sam pulls it up with Dean's help. They get it off completely and Dean throws it on the floor, deciding to let Sam wear one of his shirts instead of this old one. However, what he sees on his brother's back right now doesn't baffle him any less than it did the first time.

He does his best not to blanch at the sight of the brand. He instructs Sam to lie on his side and hurries over to take a clean piece of cloth from his duffel. Taking an antibiotic cream from the first aid box, he dabs it over the brand, apologizing over and over under his breath when Sam winces or cries out in pain.

He then lays the cloth over the burn and watches Sam visibly relax.

When Dean can hear Sam's breaths evening out, a sign of him starting to doze, he gets to his feet, hoping the kid can get some sleep. He frowns when he feels a little heat radiating off of his brother but knows better than to bother Sam at this moment. He's got the antibiotic cream in and if it gets more serious in the next few hours, Dean will figure it out. He sighs tiredly, running a hand across his face before getting to his feet.

He realizes Castiel has been watching him this whole time and avoids the angel's gaze as he makes his way to the bathroom. He quickly tends to his own few bruises and in a couple of minutes, he's out. He puts the box onto the large table in the middle of the cabin and makes his way to the beds. Castiel has moved to the far end of his bed, making a place for Dean to sit if he wants to.

Dean runs a hand over the back of his neck and after a little bit of internal struggle, decides that there's no harm in doing so and climbs up, sitting beside Cas, their legs hanging off the side. He realises that he never even bothered to check if the angel was okay.

"Hey, Cas, you good?" Dean asks.

Castiel shrugs. "I'm all right. I don't usually get hurt much."

"Are you trying to be all manly and shit now?"

Castiel tilts his head, looking at Dean with his piercing blue gaze. "No. It's just that unless someone were to seriously damage the grace canister in me, I wouldn't be hurt as much as normal humans would."

"Really?"

"Yes. I believe you saw how those angels killed Samandriel? And how I killed Uriel?"

Dean doesn't miss the look of sorrow on Castiel's face. "Yeah," he says, "you and those angels drove the knife right through the scar on their necks."

"Yes. That's right where they've injected the canisters. If you damage the canister, you cause the grace to leak out. It's poisonous and it damages the tissue massively, hence causing immediate death. We're no stronger than normal human beings without our grace."

Dean purses his lips, Castiel's constant stare making him a little uncomfortable.

"Well, unless you want to eat anything, I'm going to get some shut-eye. That okay with you?" Dean asks.

Castiel nods. "I should probably rest a while, too."

"Okay, then. Wake me up if you want anything." Dean climbs onto his bed lies on his back. The sore muscles and exhaustion make themselves known as Dean gratefully lets the darkness take him over.

~o~

Dean jerks awake, blinking a few times to adjust his eyesight. It takes him a few seconds to remember where he is but when he does, he concentrates on finding what woke him up in the first place. The room is only slightly less lighted than when he headed to bed, so he concludes that he couldn't have been asleep for long.

It's then that he hears a whimper coming from the opposite bed. He quickly swings his legs to the side, taking the rungs to the ground, and looks up to see Castiel sitting up in his bed with a helpless expression on his face. Dean then looks towards Sam, the source of the whimpers, and feels his heart break a little.

Sam is shaking from head to toe like he's shivering from cold, but his forehead is covered with small beads of sweat, shining in the limited light. He sits on the far end of the bed, his arms around his knees like before. He rocks back and forth, his eyes darting to something only he can see to the far right of Castiel's bunk. The cloth Dean had placed on Sam's back lies on the floor, forgotten.

Sam visibly flinches and then mutters incoherently under his breath, all the while fearfully looking at the far corner of the room.

"Sam?" Dean calls out.

Sam lets out a pained cry and moves back even farther.

Dean jumps. "Shit," he curses under his breath, looking at Castiel. He now understands the helpless look on the angel's face.

He clears his throat. "Sammy," he says softly. "It's Dean. Remember? Your br – friend. I won't hurt you."

Sam acts as if he hasn't even heard Dean.

"Sammy, look at me."

Sam's gaze finally moves over to Dean.

"That's good. See? I'm right here. I told you no one would hurt you, and I mean it," Dean says as he slowly walks towards Sam.

Sam shakes, eyes widened and body positioned to indicate he's afraid. Dean coaxes and convinces Sam to lie back down. Sam is unsure, trusting Dean in some moments, and then not trusting him as he lies down on his stomach. Dean finds some clean gauze to loosely cover the burn again and decides to sit on the floor right next to Sam's bed, not knowing if it's making any difference but hoping it will.

He watches Sam drift into an uneasy sleep, and turns to Cas. "What the hell was that?" he asks. "I checked him. The wounds look okay and the fever's gone for now. Did they do anything else to him?"

Castiel shrugs. "I don't know. He never acted like this back when we were at the camp."

"Well, we need to figure it out before it gets any worse. I've never seen him like this either." Dean runs a tired hand through his hair in worry. "Sorry, Cas. Get some sleep."

Castiel shakes his head, climbing down from the bunk. "I'm not really tired. If it's okay, I'd love to sit outside."

Dean's brow furrows. "Okay." He watches Castiel head onto the porch and shakes his own head. Weirdo, he thinks, observing Cas's retreating back, trenchcoat billowing behind him. He needs to get Sam and Cas some new clothes. Dean will raid the clothing shop at the nearest ghetto when he can.

Over the next few hours, Dean does all he can to make sure Sam is resting. Though it scares him to see Sam like this, he doesn't let it show on his face. Sam starts off shivering and quaking. When Dean pulls the covers over him to get him warm, though, he starts sweating immensely, pulling off the covers.

In the middle of the night it gets worse. Sam wakes up with a start, hand clamping over his mouth and he didn't need to speak for Dean to figure out what that meant. For the next few hours, Dean holds a rusty bucket under Sam whenever the nausea gets worse as he dry heaves, having nothing to throw up after the first time. He gulps anxiously time and again, looking utterly traumatised at his symptoms, going green every once in a while.

When Sam starts shifting around uncomfortably on the bed, groaning in pain every now and again, Dean suspects body aches and cramps. He checks the wounds again and they seem okay. He starts to wonder if it's the flu or maybe food poisoning from that godforsaken place. Or is it just all the stress?

Cas helps Dean in tending to Sam's needs. They do it silently, barely talking, but they're both up all night as they work alongside one another. Dean somehow finds it peaceful that Cas doesn't talk a lot. Cas understands what Dean needs, and it's comforting to know that. He's kinda even thankful to have the angel with them.

Sam settles a bit near breakfast time. He's still uncomfortable, but he's mostly sleeping and it works well for everyone. Cas heads out to sit on the porch again while Dean plops onto his bed, exhausted but also wide-awake. He finally settles on watching Sam sleep, ready to take care of anything he needs, because right now, that's the only thing he can do.

Look out for Sammy.

A/N: Reviews? Pretty please? :)