Sam could feel the tension leaving his shoulders whenever he took in Dean's conscious face – that lit up and laid-back smile that Sam was sure he had begun to forget in its absence. And it hadn't just been missing when Dean had been unconscious in the hospital – the smile had been absent from his face for much longer than that. He couldn't be sure, but Sam was beginning to believe Dean's constant drinking and depression before the accident had something to do with a certain lack of Cas.

Now that Dean's smile had returned – amid his injuries and the mystery surrounding Cas, no less – Sam was sure his brother's behavior was related to the angel's prolonged disappearance.

It'd been a week since Cas' return, and while Dean was getting stronger and not sleeping all day long as he first had, Castiel still hadn't remembered anything useful.

There wasn't much that they could do except wait for leads. Dean was less than impressed by this plan of action, and he voiced his opinion every chance he got:

"Sammy, there's gotta be some lore on angel amnesia, or something along those lines, at least!"

"Come on, give me more credit than that, I've looked."

"Well keep looking!" Dean would order.

Sam's response would always be something like, "You know, you seem to be doing pretty well, Dean. I'm sure you'd have no trouble doing some reading and researching yourself." And then Dean would laugh and mutter something about paper cuts and being too weak to turn the pages and they would both crack up.

Despite the fun they were having with their brotherly bonding, Castiel was worrying them both. If he was in the room, he was usually silent and deep in thought. When he wasn't in Dean's room, he wandered aimlessly throughout the bunker, taking in the Men of Letters artifacts – but always with a pensive, thoughtful look on his face.

Sam had tried to get him to open up and talk to him, but Cas wouldn't offer up more than a couple words in response. With the "more profound bond" and all, Dean had assured Sam that he'd gotten Cas to talk a little more when it was just the two of them, so Dean did whatever he could to keep Cas with him. Sam figured Dean enjoyed the time with Cas himself too, he was certain their time together was majorly responsible for the color to Dean's previously ashen cheeks, his fast-paced recovery, and for his good moods.

…

He was very pleased that he could now walk a short distance by himself. His face darkened with embarrassment every time Sam or Cas had to offer their shoulder for support on his way to the kitchen or the bathroom (although Dean did all that he could to keep from leaning on Cas). Ever since he'd helped him during his first day back at the bunker, Dean had found it a little bit harder to look Cas in the face. He tried to ignore it as best he could, it was more important to keep Cas around long enough to figure out what happened to him than to nurse his injured pride.

Dean spent most of his time trying to get Cas to open up to him; ever since he'd gotten back he hadn't exactly been an open book. So far, he'd been able to teach him all the card games he knew, and poker was proving to be Cas' favorite game – once he learned the object is to keep your opponent from knowing the cards in your hand.

Dean would put some of his old records on and deal the cards while Cas watched him with intensity, his eyes following Dean's hands as they fidgeted atop the table they'd moved into Dean's room for this purpose.

"Alright, small blind's ten, big blind's twenty, and the game is Texas Hold'em." Cas picked up the two cards Dean had laid in front of him before he put in his bet and blind. Dean suppressed a chuckle, taking in Cas' bunched-up eyebrows and pursed lips – his poker face of choice.

"Damn, Cas, don't pop a blood vessel," he joked, smiling as Cas' eyes lifted from his cards to meet his own. Cas remained serious for a moment before his lips spread into an accompanying smile.

"Shut up, Dean," Cas said, his eyes twinkling a little, "I'm not great at hiding expressions. And I'm finding it increasingly difficult to not look at your cards."

Dean's jaw dropped, staring at the angel, "You mean to tell me that you know what my cards are? Have you been cheating this whole time?" He eyed the pile of chips in Cas' possession with disbelief.

"Of course not. I have some restraint, you know," Cas answered. "At least more than you humans seem to possess," he added with a smirk.

Dean's smile grew wider as he put in his bet, "Oh, we're gonna play the whole superior-angel-being card, are we? Let me tell you something, Cas," he paused to burn and turn the first three cards in the center of the table, "sometimes restraint isn't all that worth the effort."

"For instance?" Dean looked up from his cards to find the angel's eyes on him again, curiosity swimming in them.

He thought for a moment before answering, watched Cas put in his bet, "Well, I've found that restraint is overrated when it comes to food, and when it comes to women."

"And by 'women,' you mean sex," Castiel amended, his eyes remaining on the cards. Dean put in his bet and dealt another card.

"Ultimately, yeah," Dean agreed. A thought crossed his mind, "and you're still a virgin.." he trailed off in disbelief, shaking his head. The angel had always been a mystery to him.

Cas didn't reply, instead he raised Dean and pushed in a hefty pile of chips for him to match. There was a slight smile tinged at his cheeks, Dean counted out his chips and pushed them in with Cas' with a wink. The final card was turned and they checked, awaiting the winner. Cas turned his cards over to reveal his hand of three queens. Dean feigned surprise at the good hand, not turning his over before picking up the cards, muttering something about 'cheating angels'. He'd stopped exclusively playing to win when he'd discovered the mischievous smile that would break out on Castiel's face whenever he made a big win. He was careful to keep their wins and losses closely equal, enjoying the angel's heartfelt reactions to the game itself.