After Cas had managed to wrap an arm around Dean's waist right before he collapsed onto the ground, he'd had just enough angel mojo to zap Dean into the car Sam had parked in the lot. Cas didn't seem to think Dean had any serious injuries left that would require medical attention, so Sam thought it best to get him back to the bunker, if anything to avoid any extra curiosity from the hospital staff. Plus, Dean would probably be pleased to be in his own bed.

Getting him from the car to his room had been a bit of a struggle; he was dead weight and Sam wanted to be extra careful with him. He still looked pretty pale and Cas' powers had only done so much healing-wise. But Dean had lost about twenty pounds, mainly muscle, during his stay, so they got him to his mattress with a minimal amount of bruising.

"How much you wanna bet he'll want a burger when he wakes up?" Sam joked.

"Knowing him, I think it would be wise to decline on that particular bet." Cas pulled off a small smirk, but Sam could tell his thoughts were elsewhere.

"Well, tell him I'm at the diner down the road getting 'supplies' if he wakes up. You'll stay, won't you Cas?"

"I think that's probably a good idea, considering our current situation," Cas agreed.

Sam nodded and shrugged into his jacket, finding the keys in the pocket. As he stepped through the door, he heard Cas call:

"Might as well get some pie too, Sam." Sam had to feel his upturned lips with his fingers to confirm that he was, in fact, smiling for the first time in months.

…

Dean woke with a start and had to look around at where he was. Thankfully, he was pretty used to not recognizing where he woke up, years of living on the road and in motel rooms does that to you. When his eyes sought out the picture next to his lamp and he took a long swig out of the water glass on his bedside table, he finally let himself relax – then the memories of the day came rushing back; waking up in the hospital, seeing Cas for the first time in a long time. He had to make sure he hadn't dreamed it all, even though the weakness of his body and the roughness of his throat told him he hadn't:

"Sam?" he called. No answer. He hesitated then tried another name, much quieter: "Cas?"

"Hello, Dean." The mono-tonal voice answered, sending shivers down Dean's spine. He wanted to sigh in relief as he watched the angel's form fill the doorway to his room. "Sam's on a supply run."

"It's good to see your face, man," Dean said. He started to swing one leg over the side of the bed to wrap the angel in a bear hug before Cas rushed forward, pushing his chest back down, flattening Dean on the bed. Dean was about to mutter something suggestive before Cas spoke:

"It's probably best if you don't get up, Dean. It didn't quite work at the hospital." Cas' reminder brought the somewhat suppressed memory to the forefront of his mind.

"Don't you dare mention the word 'faint'," Dean warned as the events replayed themselves in his head. He could feel the blood flooding his face as the memory became more and more coherent.

Cas didn't respond, instead he grinned and his eyes wandered around Dean's room and the decor. Dean suddenly felt self-conscious about his ineptitude at decorating. He knew it wasn't important but he found himself wanting to ask Cas what he thought. Instead, Dean asked a different question: "So what exactly do you remember, Cas? You and Sam said before..." he trailed off, not sure enough off the details to repeat them.

Cas didn't reply at first, his eyes on Dean's nightstand, Dean guessed more specifically on the picture of his mom.

"Cas?" Dean prodded. He waited for Castiel to meet his eyes, but he wouldn't.

"Dean, I want you to know something," Cas shifted his gaze from the picture to the chair facing the bed. "If I had known what had happened to you-" Cas started, but Dean stopped him right there.

"But you didn't know, Cas, how could you?" Cas finally met Dean's eyes, "And you did what you could now that you do know. Regardless of all that..." Dean sighed, "don't feel like you owe me anything, Cas. Or Sam, for that matter." He rubbed his hand across his chin absentmindedly, his stubble produced a scratching sound – breaking the silence a little, "You have a right to live your life separate from Sam and me." Now Dean avoided Cas' eyes, looking down at his gown, suddenly remembering he had access to something that didn't resemble a dress. He pushed the hem further down, past his knees. When he looked back at Cas, his eyes were still on him.

"I can't say I agree with that wholly, Dean," the angel said at last.

"Well, you do, Cas." Dean had had enough of the deep conversation, "Now would you mind getting me some clothes out of that dresser?"

Cas' head moved in the direction that Dean was pointing before he walked over. Dean heard him open a drawer, his own eyes were on his own legs again, giving them the once-over again without the angel watching his examination.

"Uh, Dean?" Dean's head snapped up to see Cas rummaging through his underwear drawer, his socks and boxers in complete disarray.

Dean chuckled, "The other stuff's in the next drawer, Cas," he barked, the rawness of his throat making him reach for the water glass again.

Cas brought him his clothes, setting them on the edge of the bed. "Do you need help? Because-"

Dean cut him off before he could get any farther, "That won't be necessary, Cas. But I could use some privacy."

Cas nodded and made his way out into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

Dean used his arms to swing his legs off the side of the bed and sat up, he was relieved to be alone with his thoughts and his foreign-feeling body, at last. He managed to get the gown off relatively easily – there were snaps in the back so he didn't have to pull it over his head. He used a combination of shimmying and bending to get the boxers around his feet and up his legs. He laid back to pull them up in their proper place. The effort left him breathless, he laid there for a moment, catching his breath. He debated giving up and just staying in his underwear but thought I hunt demons, I can fucking dress myself and he sat back up to thread his feet into the legs of his sweats. When he had worked the waist up past his knees, he leaned too far and lost his balance, sliding off the side of the bed. "Shit!" He prayed Cas hadn't heard the thump as he hit the ground or his following exclamation..

"Dean." No such luck. Dean let his head hit the floor with a smack as the shame welled up.

"I'm fine, Cas, just leave me alone." He waited for the sound of the door closing – instead he jumped when he felt a pair of warm, strong hands grip his shoulders. Before he knew it, he was vertical, leaning on Cas.

Dean couldn't look at him, "Dammit, Cas, I said 'leave me alone'!" His shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Shut up, Dean" the angel growled. He continued to hold Dean's shoulders with one arm enclosing him while he used the other to quickly pull Dean's sweats the rest of the way up. He picked Dean's t-shirt up off the bed and shoved it into Dean's empty arms, only pausing for a moment to stare at the angry skin puckered on his chest. Dean still refused to look at Cas, scowling as he pulled the shirt up over his head.

"Okay, I'm fully clothed, you can leave now." Dean resigned himself to the bed, turning away from Cas and his probing eyes, fully aware of how much he resmbled a pouting toddler. When Cas stayed where he was, Dean turned back to make some smart ass comment, but Cas' expression gave him pause. Cas' eyes were on Dean's frame and Dean followed their gaze, noticing what Cas was: the clothes that had previously fit now hung off of him, loose in all the wrong places. He was practically swimming in his clothes. When Dean looked back at the angel, he'd turned around to hide his expression before making his way out of the room.

Dean returned to taking inventory of his foreign body, too taken aback to come up with anything to shout after Cas.

Author's Note:

Hey guys, thanks for reading!