Dean awoke to sunlight warming his forehead as it streamed through the blind. Dean couldn't have imagined sleeping anymore than he previously had, but somehow he had managed it for another night. His head rested on Cas' shoulder, and his arms felt cold without his beloved jacket; he had given it to Cas last night when he was still feeling cold. He leaned forward to look at Cas, sleeping peacefully in his coat. His entire body appeared relaxed, and even in sleep he had one arm curled around Dean's arm.

Cas. How reliant Dean had become on seeing him. Time spent searching for him left Dean feeling exhausted and crazed at the same time. Now that Cas was safe, Dean seemed to glance his way constantly. Cas wasn't the force he was with wings despite his strength of character, and Dean knew it was only a matter of time before the pride Cas kept so hidden would drive him mad. Dean would be there for it. If they could manage only one more day of wordlessness then it would be worth it.

Dean carefully rose and went to Sam's room; he needed to talk to his brother. Sure talking wasn't his strongpoint when it came to sensitivity, but he needed his goofy little brother to know him; know how he felt. Sam spent a childhood not knowing his father's humanity, but not his brother; Dean was always just Dean, and Sam was always Sammy. That's just how it is.

When Sam wouldn't come to the door, Dean assumed him asleep and used his own room key. "Sam? Sammy you up?"

The room appeared as if it hadn't been touched. Sam's untouched salad sat rotting on the nightstand as it had the day before, his backpack and laptop on the table still. It was as if he'd left the room for only a second, save the bad food.

Dean swept the room, looking for the note announcing his impending return. That's when he saw Sam's cell phone laying on the floor, dead next to his room key. There was blood on the floor. Dean approached the back wall by the computer and saw the bloody handprint in the center of it. He swallowed hard. The hunt was on.

Castiel had seen everything; bitterness, wars, apocalypse, creation and destruction. He knew of every possibility and every probable result and yet there was always something wonderful about seeing an event unfold. His considerably little time spent on Earth provided much entertainment in the unknown and spectacular displays the humans had created; sometimes it made him feel the odd one out, but it mostly made him feel curious.

Now that the angel was human himself, that curiosity was amplified, and charged with emotional attachment. The sunrise felt warmer and renewed each day, as if it hadn't rose much the same way only a day before. Hearing a baby crying down the hotel hallway now made Castiel frown rather than stare in indifference; what was it Dean had called that? Empathy?

And everyday Cas developed a new opinion on something. Today it was about waking up alone. Cas decided he hated this feeling.

It was not as if Cas hadn't experienced it before, especially with his newfound humanity, but going to bed knowing he and Dean were safe with each other and then waking up deserted just felt wrong. Castiel remembered telling Dean a long time ago that he had grown too attached to the humans in his charge, but now it felt like maybe they were in each other's charge. That felt good. Strong, even. But losing track of your charge for even a moment meant uncertainty, and this was the kind of uncertainty that the curious angel could do without.

Climbing out of bed and stretching his small shoulders, stiff from the hotel mattress, Cas set out to find his ward.

"Good, you're here." Dean motioned for Cas to have a seat on the bed while he continued to scroll through Sam's search history on his laptop. Sam hadn't mentioned anywhere he might be going, but maybe he'd found a case to investigate and found some trouble. Dean sighed. Sam should know better than to go it alone.

Cas was now seated on the end of Sam's bed with a puzzled expression. "What's going on, Dean?"

"Well, Sam's missing."

Cas nodded, his expression earnest. "Missing what exactly?"

Dammit Cas. "Missing as in gone, Cas. I don't know where he is. Judging from the blood on the wall and floor and from his phone and room key laying here I'd say he wasn't exactly planning a holiday."

"Oh. Perhaps he left with some form of protection?"

"His backpack is still here with all his supplies in it, I checked."

Cas watched Dean intently while he continued reading Sam's information machine. He had seen Dean wear that solemn expression every time his brother had been endangered by their work for as long as he could remember. It was a mix of regret and determination, and the sight of it brought back those same feelings he'd experienced that night after their reunion; the deeply rooted unease which Dean had described as guilt.

"I think I found something. Look at this Cas." Dean turned the laptop towards Cas, revealing an article from the local paper accompanied by a picture of a woman with long curly hair and layers of gaudy rosary beads. "Apparently there's been some witchy activity in town lately. There's a local shop not far from here that sells creepy supplies to witches in the area, but it was closed down a week ago and there have been three murders since then—all young women. Virgin sacrifice maybe?"

Cas cleared his throat. "I arrived in town one week ago, and I recognize the woman in that picture."

Dean sighed and poured a drink. These sons of bitches were going to use Sam to get to Cas—but he wasn't going to let that happen. No one messes with his family, and especially no creepy-ass witches.

"Good. Then we know right where to find them." He stood up and swung Sam's bag over his shoulder before going about the room and putting what remained of their possessions in the bag too.

"Dean, I feel I must apologize, I—"

Dean spun around. "You got nothin' to apologize for Cas. Now come on." He patted Cas on the back. "Let's have ourselves a witch hunt."