Title: Aftermath
Prompt: Written for hugglewolf on livejournal: SPN, crazed!Dean, awesome!Sam, awesome!Bobby, hurt!Castiel - Dean gets cursed but it works by convincing him Castiel is the one that's been affected. He locks Castiel up somewhere - maybe in the car's trunk, now angel proofed, or the panic room - and Castiel hurts himself trying to escape. Sam and Bobby take care of them both.
Dean is burrowed under a pile of blankets on the sofa. He's asleep now, and won't remember this in the morning. It is better that way.
Sam covers his brother with another blanket, and stands over Dean quietly for a long minute. It is the only thing that Sam can do, and Castiel has been watching Sam bring blankets all morning. The only visible parts of Dean are his left elbow and one foot that persistently kicks free of the mountain of covers.
After his minute of silence, Sam comes and plunks down in the empty chair across from Castiel. He cradles Castiel's good hand in both of his own large ones. If Castiel understands the humans correctly, he is to squeeze when the pain becomes worse.
It's not an option. His grip could easily crush Sam's hands to dust; Castiel is still an angel. And the pain comes and goes in flashes, but Castiel has withstood much worse. He does not feel it as a human might.
The sentiment is nice though.
"Most fool thing I ever did see," a voice grumbles at his back. There are very few men that Castiel would trust at his back. Fewer still that he would trust enough to put his battered wings in human hands.
Considering the state of his wings, however, Castiel is filled with the grim certainty that Bobby Singer doesn't care whether the angel trusts him or not. Something has to be done, and Bobby's not above doing things without permission.
It's okay though, because Bobby does have Castiel's permission.
"This is why I gave you the darn phone," Bobby continues to growl.
"I do not believe you foresaw Dean becoming irrationally charged by a stray curse and confining me to the panic room," Castiel is deadpan.
Bobby tweaks an errant feather harder than necessary. Castiel closes his mouth obediently. Bobby continues his work, the calloused and worn hands deft as he performs this task. "So you can get into contact with us when stuff like this happens, Feathers."
Castiel does not blush. But the cell phone was the last thing on his mind when he found himself confined in an angel-proof space while Dean ran amuck under the influence of a powerful curse. He had tried to escape and his wings had been damaged badly by the constant beating they had taken against the wards.
Sam is patting his hand. Castiel turns to his friend, belatedly realizing that Sam understands. Sam has been there. He has been confined by brother and friend and done considerable damage to himself in the desperation to escape. He has also . . . for so terribly brief a time, and yet too long . . . known the feel of wings at his back while possessed by Lucifer.
Castiel squeezes Sam's hand so very carefully back even though his wings no longer ache. His friend's face lightens, and Castiel reaches out with grace to soothe the troubled soul automatically. Bobby gets bathed in the same wave, and his grumbling intensifies. It's the old hunter's way of caring. As his grace settles, Castiel reins in his bitterness and surrenders himself to his family's care.