Sam stopped at the base of the stairs, closing his eyes and drawing in a slow, steadying breath before making himself look at the scene of his brother's brutal crime. When he'd come down the stairs before, he'd been rushing, responding to Dean's shout, hearing in Dean's voice that he needed help, but hoping, hoping that maybe Cas had told Dean how to stop the Apocalypse he'd started; the screaming, the horrible, desperate cries Sam had tried not to listen to upstairs – maybe it was all over. Maybe it was done, and they could all start picking up the pieces and working their way back.

Now, looking at the scene in front of him as he slowly crossed the room, Sam realized how stupid that idea had been – stupid and naïve. It was so clear now, agonizingly so.

There could be no way back. Not from this.

A single glance was all Sam could stand at the rustic wooden table where Dean had laid out his tools – the vial of holy oil, Dean's favorite lighter, and several blades, now strewn carelessly across the table's surface, most of them wet and glistening dark red.

Sam suppressed a shudder as he turned his gaze from the table and toward the more damning evidence of their cruel rush to judgment.

Cas…

The angel was still unconscious, lying on his side, completely still on the cold stone floor. The upper half of his body was bare, but covered in blood and blackened with burns, his wrists bloodied from his desperate attempts to escape. His face was bruised, his lip split, tracks of blood streaking from his nose and a spot above his left eye, marks no doubt left by Dean's fist.

But the worst of it was his wings.

Cautiously, unwilling to disturb Cas's rest – a small mercy given the suffering that still lay ahead of him – Sam knelt down between the wings. They were awkwardly splayed across the floor, their fragile framework bent at odd angles, ragged and charred and bare in places where the feathers had been torn or burned completely away.

Sam frowned, biting his lip as he wondered suddenly how they were going to manage to get Cas upstairs at all; even in their mutilated condition, the wings were still massive. Sam imagined that they should ordinarily fold in like bird's wings, able to be tucked in close to Cas's body so that they'd take up a minimal amount of space – but broken as they were, Sam couldn't imagine that Cas would be able to move them that much; and even if it was possible, it would certainly be excruciating to do so.

Sam reached out a cautious hand, running it gently down the ridge of bone that ran along the top of Cas's left wing. It was bent sharply halfway between the root and the joint, and Sam wanted to find the place where it was broken, to see if possibly they could bind it up so it could heal properly.

He'd barely managed to touch Cas's wing at all, though, when it jerked under his hand, and Cas awoke with a shuddering gasp, flinching away. Sam instinctively withdrew his hand, as Cas began to shiver, burying his face in his arm beneath him.

"No," he moaned, but there was no defiance, only despair in his voice, and the sound tore at Sam's heart. "Please," Cas sobbed. "Please…"

"Cas," Sam said softly, getting up and carefully avoiding Cas's wing as he stepped around to face his friend, crouching down and reaching out a hand to rest on Cas's shoulder. "Cas, it's okay… we're not…" He hesitated, before amending quietly, "No one's going to hurt you anymore, all right? I promise."

Cas raised his head shakily, wide blue eyes filled with confusion when they fell on Sam's face. "Sam?" he whispered, before lowering his head again, his whole body shaking with sobs – though Sam recognized his reaction this time as relief. "Sam…"

Sam reached down and carefully took Cas's arms to pull him up, wincing himself as Cas cringed at the motion, letting out a soft little sound of protest. "Shh, it's all right," Sam soothed him, keeping his voice low and gentle.

Cas leaned into his hold, barely able to support any of his own weight at all, so Sam let Cas rest against him, wrapping a supportive arm around him to hold him up. Sam bit his lip, his brow creased with worry, as he thought of the countless wounds that marred Cas's bare skin – raw burns and deep cuts, many of which were still slowly bleeding. He knew that the contact had to be painful.

It didn't seem to matter to Cas at the moment. Sam realized with a sinking heart that it was likely nothing compared to the torment in which he'd spent the last several hours; and the simple reassurance of gentle contact was something he needed more than anything right now.

"Cas, I need to get you upstairs," Sam told him. "We need to get out of here. So… I need you to do something for me, okay?"

Cas's head was lowered, heavy against Sam's chest, but he managed a little nod. "O-okay," he replied, the word muffled against Sam's shirt.

"Can you – can you move your wings at all?" Sam asked. "They're – so big, and – I'm not sure we can get you upstairs if – can you try?" Cas shuddered against Sam's chest, and Sam instinctively tightened his arm around him, his voice hushed and sympathetic as he added, "I know. I'm sorry. We haven't got a choice, though; we have to figure something out…"

Cas was quiet for a moment, and Sam felt his hands curl into trembling fists, clenched in the sides of Sam's shirt as he drew in a shuddering breath. Finally he replied, his voice hoarse and weak. "H-he did a… a spell…"

"I know," Sam said, swallowing hard, grateful that Cas's head was buried in his shirt so that Cas couldn't see his face. "He – he told me."

Cas lifted his head a little, but kept it bowed, his eyes averted, and his voice was hushed as he pleaded, "C-can't you… undo it?" Sam was silent for a moment, considering that possibility. Cas's voice shook as he added, desperation in the single, broken word, "Please."

God, how could we be so careless? Sam's heart sank. He hadn't noticed a counter-spell in the book anywhere near the spell that had revealed Cas's wings. If one existed, they had no idea where. So stupid, so reckless… to do this thing, without knowing how to undo it when it was over…

"We might be able to, Cas," Sam explained, a dull ache in his chest as he explained his conclusion. "But – I have to find the counter-spell first, and – we don't have a lot of time. This place – it isn't safe…"

Cas was completely silent, and suddenly Sam felt ridiculously foolish. How utterly ludicrous it must sound to Cas, he realized, given his current condition, what had happened to him in this room… to worry now, that this place wasn't safe.

He should've been safe with us… Sam swallowed hard, his throat aching. And instead, we've done the worst thing we possibly could have done to him. Sam remembered abruptly what the Men of Letters had called this particular spell – The Unspeakable – and thought that he was beginning to understand why.

"I'm sorry, Cas," Sam said again. "I – I wish we could…"

His voice trailed off when he saw Cas's wing shift, just slightly, his body tensing against Sam as if he was trying to lift it – but then it collapsed to the floor again as Cas choked back a cry of pain.

"I can't," he whispered, agitation and rising panic in his trembling words. "Please, I can't…"

"Okay," Sam soothed him with a steadying hand at the back of his neck, rubbing in slow circles. "Okay, don't… don't try again, not yet anyway. We'll… figure something out." Fresh tremors shook Cas's body again in the wake of his efforts, and Sam tried not to think about the impossible problem before them, and instead just to focus on calming him down. "It's okay," Sam whispered, holding Cas a little closer to him with his arm around his waist, careful to avoid the numerous cuts and burns that scored Cas's pale skin as much as he could. The gesture was rewarded when Cas settled in against him, his shuddering breaths slowly evening out. "It's okay… everything's gonna be okay…"

The door at the top of the stairs creaked open, and Cas tensed in Sam's arms with a shaky gasp, clinging to him tighter. Sam heard the sound of rustling feathers – familiar from years of hearing it, often the only sign that Cas had come or gone. But this time, the sound was sustained. Sam noticed that Cas's wings were trembling, jerking spasmodically, and realized with dismay that he was trying, instinctively and in spite of the pain, to pull them in close – to protect them.

"No, Cas, don't," Sam said, his voice sharp with alarm, as Dean's footsteps descended the stairs. "You're gonna hurt yourself, don't do that. Shh, it's all right, no one's gonna hurt you, okay?"

"Don't let him," Cas pleaded, his voice breathless and breaking over the words. "Please don't let him…"

"I won't," Sam promised without really thinking, just willing to say anything to soothe Cas's fears. "I mean – he won't. He doesn't want to – it's just that… well, it's over now, Cas…" Sam's voice trailed off as he looked up at his brother with an apologetic grimace.

Dean had stopped a few feet away from them – far enough to be out of reach, but close enough to have heard every word. His face was guarded, carefully closed off, but he couldn't hide the hurt in his eyes as he swallowed slowly, lowering himself to a crouch and setting down his armload of supplies on the floor beside Sam – bandages, medical tape, clean water in a plastic tub, warm enough that it was still steaming. Once he'd laid it all down, Dean took a few long, more-or-less straight sticks he'd had tucked under his arm and set those down too. Sam looked down at them, noticing that they'd been stripped of any bark or knots and made relatively smooth as well.

"For, uh… for splints," Dean explained, unable to look at Sam or Cas, swallowing hard. "You know – until we can get something better." He moved as if to rise – then hesitated, his lips parted but silent.

"Cas," he began at last, his voice quiet and cautious.

Cas went very still at the sound of his name on Dean's lips, his face hidden against Sam's chest. Sam wasn't sure what Dean intended to say, and was even less sure whether it was a good idea for him to try to say anything at all. His eyes locked with Dean's, a wordless warning, though he made no attempt to intercept whatever message Dean felt he needed to get across.

Dean hesitated, visibly searching for words before he continued, his voice aching with helpless regret. "I – I know this means shit to you right now, but – I swear I'm not gonna touch you, all right? Not unless you…" Dean's words broke off, and he looked away, shaking his head with a sad, brittle smile. "Well, I'm just not," he concluded. "I'm never gonna hurt you again. I know you – you probably don't believe me. Might not ever, but – I just had to say it."

Cas remained still and silent, his face pressed so hard into Sam's shirt that Sam could feel the heat of each tremulous breath through the soft cotton, the pressure of Cas's forehead against his sternum almost hard enough to be uncomfortable. After a moment, Dean let out a soft sigh, something on his face that might have been disappointment, if Sam thought for a second that Dean had allowed himself to expect anything more.

Dean rose to his feet again, not looking directly at either Sam or Cas again as he said quietly, "What else do you think you'll need?"

"I'm not sure," Sam replied. "We need to get him upstairs… outside and into the car, but – with his wings like this…"

Cas shuddered, his wings drawing in again, just a little before he bit back a sharp, startled little cry, as if in his instinct to hide them, he'd forgotten how bad it'd hurt the last time he'd tried. Dean winced, shame falling over his face as he looked away.

"Drugs," he suggested flatly. "We're going to need – all the painkillers we can get our hands on."

Sam frowned. "Can we get our hands on any, though? I thought Garth's guy said that was all he could do…"

"Don't worry about that," Dean said, already heading toward the stairs. "I'll take care of it. Just – do what you can to help him in the meantime. It'll probably take me a couple hours."

Sam nodded. That was actually a lot faster than he'd expected; he wasn't sure he wanted to know exactly what Dean was planning to do. At this point, he was desperate enough not to ask; he could think of no means of getting Cas upstairs that would not be excruciatingly painful.

As soon as Dean's footsteps faded away and the basement door closed again, Cas relaxed against Sam, though he was still trembling. Sam found himself instinctively rocking slowly, his hand running soothingly through Cas's hair as he tried to find words that would be reassuring, that would offer some kind of comfort, words that could somehow undo what had been done.

Of course, there were none.

"You're gonna be okay," Sam said at last, though the words felt pitifully flat and useless, and he wasn't sure who he hoped more to reassure with them. "I know it – it hurts right now, but – we're gonna get you all patched up, and you're gonna be just…"

"Sam."

Cas turned his head just a little, just enough so that the word was clearly audible, not muffled by Sam's shirt, and Sam went quiet, waiting for him to go on. When he did, his voice was low and hesitant, and still touched with that strange note of shame that Sam couldn't quite figure out. The terror, the tears – those made sense, even if they were unsettlingly unfamiliar coming from Cas. Righteous fury would have been perfectly in order, given the circumstances. But the humiliated hush to Cas's voice, as if he was almost too ashamed to speak aloud, the way he couldn't seem to quite meet Sam's eyes – it didn't make sense.

"I – I understand that it's – n-necessary to – to tend to my injuries so that they can heal, but – please…" Cas's voice shook, and he clutched Sam's shirt a little tighter, pulling it taut against Sam's back. "… will you do it? Only you? Please, don't – don't let D-Dean…" Cas's voice broke, and he turned his face into Sam's shirt again with a shuddering sob.

"Cas." Sam's voice was gentle but firm as he leaned back a little, his hands coming to rest on Cas's arms and holding him so that he couldn't move with Sam, couldn't hide. "Cas… hey. I need you to listen to me, okay?"

Cas didn't reply, and kept his head bowed low, eyes averted… but after a moment he nodded, almost imperceptibly.

"Dean – he was telling the truth. He's not going to hurt you again. Not – not because I won't let him, but because – he doesn't want to. He – he never wanted to, Cas. He just – he thought…"

"Don't." Cas's voice was hoarse and raw, but still carried a note of sharp command that stopped Sam's words short.

He frowned. "Don't what?"

Cas swallowed hard, but Sam could see that his jaw was set with stubborn anger, and seeing it was – well, it was almost a relief. Still, Cas was shaking harder now, and when he continued, his words were spoken with a desperate intensity.

"Don't… try to tell me why. What he did. Don't… explain, like there's an explanation that will…" Cas stopped abruptly, closing his eyes, and Sam's heart ached when he saw the tears that escaped between lowered lashes. "Just… don't. Please."

It was by no means too much to ask for. In fact, now that he thought about it, Sam felt foolish and small for even attempting what must have sounded to Cas like a defense of Dean's actions.

"I'm sorry," Sam offered quietly, loosening his grip on Cas's arms, relieved when Cas immediately returned to his former position, arms tight around Sam and face buried. Sam had half-expected Cas to pull away from him, too, now. "I just… I'm trying to help, that's all. I'm – probably sucking at it, but – that's all I want to do."

"Then… please don't let Dean touch me. For any reason. Please." Cas's voice was quiet, only slightly wavering, but Sam could clearly hear his desperation. And there was only one answer he could give.

"I won't," he promised softly. "Don't worry, Cas. He – he's not gonna touch you again."

Breaking into a pharmacy wasn't even close to the most difficult or illegal thing Dean had ever done. Breaking into three hospital pharmacies, in succession, to steal expensive narcotics – was another level of difficult and illegal entirely.

But not impossible. Not when Cas needed those drugs so desperately.

Dean's hands tightened on the steering wheel as he raced back toward the cabin, knuckles white, heart pounding in his ears. And yet, it did nothing to drown out the echo of Cas's screams. Dean's eyes were focused on the road, but all he could see was Cas's impossibly blue eyes, wide with terror, the way Cas cringed away from him every time Dean moved near him.

You wanted to break him, he reminded himself with scathing accusation. Well, you did.

Now, all Dean wanted was to undo the damage he'd caused – to take Cas into his arms and hold him, to pour out apologies and promises that nothing bad would ever happen to him again – to put his broken friend back together again.

But Cas couldn't even look at Dean now; Dean had given up any right he might ever have had to offer physical comfort. He'd taken the precious thing he and Cas had once shared, and he'd shattered it there on the cold stone of that basement room. There was nothing he could do now, to undo it, or to help… nothing except for this one thing.

And by God, he was going to do it – consequences be damned. If Dean got caught and spent the rest of his life in prison, it still wouldn't be long enough to pay for what he'd done. But he wasn't going to get caught.

Cas was counting on him not to.

Even so, when he arrived back at the cabin, Dean found himself standing at the closed basement door, struggling to find the courage to open it and go down – to face Cas's terrified reaction to nothing more than the sound of his footsteps. Dean knew he deserved it – hell, he'd deliberately cultivated it. Used every dark skill in his repertoire to make sure that Cas feared him more than anyone or anything else. He'd asked for it – the way Cas shuddered at the sound of his voice, the way he clung to Sam and pleaded for protection as if Dean were the worst of monsters. And he was, wasn't he? Had to be, to do the things he'd done, not letting love or conscience stop him.

He was a monster. Had been for a long time.

Cas was just the last to know.

Before Dean knew it, ten minutes had passed, with him just standing there at the basement door like a useless coward, holding onto the drugs Cas needed so badly in a clenched, white-knuckled fist. Cursing his own weakness, Dean forced himself to open the door and walk through it.

When Dean reached the bottom of the stairs, Sam was still sitting on the floor, though he'd scooted back a little so that his back was braced against the leg of the table. Dean tried to look anywhere but at Cas, but his eyes seemed drawn to the angel of their own volition. Cas was lying down, his head in Sam's lap, and Sam's blood-stained shirt now spread over his upper body as a makeshift blanket. Cas didn't react as Dean approached, so Dean guessed he must be asleep.

He felt an acute sense of relief – followed immediately by a hot rush of shame for that relief.

Yeah, good for you, Winchester. You don't have to face the friend you just fucking shredded, because he's too exhausted and traumatized to keep his eyes open. What a lucky fucking break.

"Hey." Sam looked up at him as he approached, his mouth twitching slightly in a weak, failed attempt at a smile, and Dean quickly averted his gaze. "He fell asleep just after you left. I – couldn't make myself wake him up, not when he's… hurting this bad…" Dean glanced up to see that Sam was staring down at Cas with sad eyes, long fingers stroking slowly through his hair.

Sam's gonna look at you different, too… The warning words filled his mind. Give him a minute to think about what he's seen here… what you did… and he's gonna piece it together. And he's gonna know what you are. And he's never gonna want you to touch him again, either.

Dean cleared his throat as he knelt on the stone floor a few feet away from Sam, daring to venture a little bit closer this time since Cas wasn't awake to be freaked out. He inspected the labels as he took out a few bottles of pills, a few small plastic vials full of liquid, and disposable hypodermic needles. "I, uh… I got… just about everything they had. Morphine, Dilaudid, Vicodin." Dean swallowed, unable to meet Sam's eyes as he took out another bottle. "Valium. Figured… he might… might need it."

Sam just nodded slowly. "You did great." He frowned as he looked up at Dean, worry in his voice as he reached out to take Dean's hand. "Do I wanna know where you got all this?"

"I'll just answer that by saying let's not waste time talking about it and just get ready to get the hell out of Dodge, okay?" Dean tried to sound as light and unconcerned as possible, but his voice shook, then broke, his eyes burning from nothing more than the simple contact of Sam's hand on his. Suddenly just wanting to get as far away from Sam and Cas as he could, he started to rise to his feet, trying to pull his hand away. "I'll just… go get packed up…"

His words broke off as Sam held on tight, jerking him back down as he tried to get up. "Dean," Sam said softly. "Look at me."

Dean couldn't. He closed his eyes, hot tears escaping despite his efforts.

"Look at me," Sam repeated firmly, and Dean reluctantly obeyed. The softness of compassion, the love in Sam's eyes, only made everything worse. "You don't have to go anywhere."

"Well, actually, I kinda do," Dean insisted, looking away again. "Because the car's not gonna pack itself, and Cas could wake up any second, and he doesn't need me standing over him when he…"

"I need you."

Dean froze, finally venturing to glance up at Sam again, uncertain.

Sam's eyes were earnest, and he squeezed Dean's hand as he continued with a note of urgency in his voice. "I – I know what I've got to do, okay? You're right. Cas is gonna need a lot of support to get him through this. But…" Sam looked away for a moment, and the self-consciousness way he glanced away for a moment, the uncertainty in his eyes, pulled at Dean's heart as they always had, and he found himself settling back down onto his knees. "… but so am I. I need you, Dean. I – I can't do this without you. I need you with me."

Dean knew he was asking a lot of Sam, and he knew that Sam was going to be dealing with his own burden of guilt over what had happened. He couldn't leave Sam to carry all of it on his own, while he allowed himself to hole away somewhere and drown in his own self-loathing. But it wasn't so simple as Sam made it sound.

A sad smile rose to Dean's lips as he met Sam's eyes. "Yeah," he said softly. "And he needs me gone. So – how in the hell is that supposed to work?"

Sam's lips pressed into a firm line, and Dean saw the stubborn gleam in his eyes as he stated firmly, "We'll make it work. We'll figure it out. Just – please, Dean. Don't – don't check out on me here, okay? I – I can't do this if you do."

It didn't make any sense. Dean couldn't understand how Sam could even stand to look at him – how the touch of Dean's hand could do anything but make his skin crawl in revulsion. The beautiful, now shattered thing Sam cradled in his arms was shattered because of Dean – and Dean didn't know how Sam couldn't see that.

But one thing overrode all of Dean's doubts, his shame, and self-revulsion. One thing meant that for now, none of it mattered. He couldn't let it.

Sam needed him.

"Okay, Sammy," Dean agreed, surrendering as always to the pleading look in Sam's eyes. He knew that the task ahead of Sam was going to be pretty overwhelming, and he would make sure that Sam got all the support he needed to get through it, no matter what it took. "I get it. I just – I need to go pack up our things, get the car loaded. You, uh – you got this, for now?"

"Yeah," Sam assured him with a tired smile. "Thanks, Dean."

And Dean squeezed Sam's hand, silent reassurance that he understood what was needed of him, before letting go and rising to his feet, making his way up the stairs and away from his brother before Sam could see him break.

The closing of the basement door behind Dean startled Cas awake, and he jumped – then immediately winced, letting out a low whimper of pain.

"Easy," Sam said softly, placing his arm gently across Cas's shoulders to keep him from rising too quickly, his other hand reaching down to stroke Cas's hair. "You're okay… don't move too fast, okay? Just… just relax."

Cas laid his head back down – then raised it abruptly, trying to rise against the pressure of Sam's hand, eyes wild as they darted around the basement room. "Where's – where's Dean?" Cas asked, voice shaking and fearful.

Sam's heart ached, but he made no further attempts to lessen Cas's fear of his brother. That would have to come later; right now, Cas was nowhere near ready to hear their reasons why it had happened, or why it would never happen again.

"He's upstairs," he said instead. "It's just you and me down here, Cas. It's okay."

Cas relaxed marginally, at least enough that he stopped trying to sit up and laid his head down again. After a moment, though, he shifted with a soft groan, his face twisting into a grimace as he said, "Hurts… so much…"

"I know, Cas," Sam said, reaching for one of the plastic vials Dean had left within his reach, and a plastic-wrapped needle to go with it, lifting his arm off Cas's shoulders to open it. "I'm gonna help you with that, okay?"

Cas carefully raised himself up on his folded arms, looking to see what Sam was doing. The moment he saw the needle in Sam's hand, his eyes went wide and he tried frantically to get up, practically throwing himself off of Sam's lap and scrambling away. Almost immediately he cried out in pain, his wings fluttering pathetically as he attempted an escape that was lost to him for the moment.

"Cas… Cas!" Sam rushed forward on his knees, closing the little distance Cas had managed to put between them and catching the panicked angel's arms, holding him still. "Easy… easy, Cas, it's okay… I'm not gonna hurt you…"

"What… what's in that?" Cas asked, pulling weakly against Sam's grip, his eyes locked downward on the needle Sam had hastily tossed aside, on the floor where it lay beside them. He looked up at Sam at last through fearful, imploring eyes. "What are you going to do?"

"It's just painkillers, Cas. Morphine. So it doesn't hurt so much, that's all."

Cas looked down at the needle again, trembling violently under Sam's hands. "Will it make me sleep?"

Sam considered for a moment before answering honestly, "Probably. I hope so."

Cas swallowed hard, staring at the needle for a long moment before looking up at Sam again and asking in a halting, hesitant voice, "What… what will happen… while I sleep?"

Suddenly, the reason for Cas's fear hit Sam with all the force of a speeding train, guilt slamming into him with it, and Sam closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a heavy sigh. "Cas… I'm so sorry," he said softly when he opened his eyes to find Cas still looking up at him, his expression bordering on panic. "We – were told that if you'd started the spell to – bring the walls down, the tablet – would be inside you. So – we – we had to know. We – didn't want you to… to hurt, though, so – we gave you the morphine." Sam was quiet for a moment, holding Cas's gaze though shame made him long to look away. "We were wrong," he stated finally.

Cas looked down, at nothing in particular, his gaze distant and haunted as he raised a hand to hover near, but not quite touching, the wound in his chest – the wound which was no longer bandaged, and torn around the edges of the stitches. It made Sam wince to look at it.

"He… he used it to…" Cas shuddered, not finishing his thought, and shaking his head slightly.

"Cas." Sam let go of one of Cas's arms, reaching down a careful hand to tilt Cas's head up, silently urging Cas to look at him – and Cas obeyed, his eyes wary and questioning. "I promise. Nothing like that is going to happen this time."

Cas considered that, his expression solemn and a little less fearful. "Why… why do you want me to sleep?" he asked cautiously.

"Because… I need to set your wings, for one thing," Sam explained gently.

Cas flinched, looking away, his wings jerking slightly in that way Sam knew by now meant that he desperately wanted to hide them. He frowned, troubled by Cas's reaction in a way he couldn't quite put his finger on. Sam continued, keeping his voice level and soothing.

"I know that's gonna hurt if we don't use the drugs, and… and we have to set them, Cas. Or… they'll heal crooked, and… they might not… not work right again. Okay?"

Cas nodded, his eyes downcast and welling with tears, his lip trembling though his jaw was stubbornly set against it.

"And… after that… we have to get you upstairs, and that's not going to be very comfortable, either. And we have a long drive ahead of us, and… it's just so that you feel as little pain as possible. All right?"

Cas nodded again, closing his eyes for a moment. Then he looked up at Sam again, and there was something pleading and quietly desperate in his eyes when he said softly, "I trust you, Sam."

Sam's mouth was dry, and the weight of guilt on him nearly drove his gaze from Cas's face – but he made himself meet Cas's eyes, nodding slowly. "I know," he said quietly. "And I promise… no one's gonna hurt you again."

Cas swallowed hard, drew in a slow, deep breath… and then held out his arm for the needle.

Sam carefully set Cas's wings using the splints Dean had brought, and then folded them in as close to Cas's back as possible, using Ace bandages to bind them into that position. He did his best to bandage any open wounds that were still bleeding on the rest of Cas's body, resigning himself to the fact that more thorough care would have to wait until they reached the safety of the bunker.

Cas was hidden from angels as long as Jacob's Call was in place, but Ion knew where they were, and could easily inform his brothers of where they could find the traitor, in his conveniently vulnerable condition. And despite the fact that Crowley's vengeance had been horrifically successful, Sam wouldn't put it past him to try something else, while they were all weakened and distracted.

One thing at a time, Sam told himself. Just get to the bunker. Then we can worry about… everything that comes after.

Dean came down the stairs just as Sam was finishing up. He focused his gaze on Sam's face, not looking at Cas, or at the table still covered in the weapons of torture he'd used.

"We're all packed up," he stated firmly.

Sam didn't question Dean's decision to leave everything on the table behind, regardless of its potential value. He never wanted to see any of it again, so he could only imagine how Dean felt about it.

"Okay," Sam said softly.

"There's… something else." Dean didn't quite look at Sam as he spoke.

Sam suspected that would be an issue for a while. "What is it?"

"The angel tablet." Dean ventured a glance up at Sam's face, and Sam's stomach dropped at what he saw there. "It's gone."

"Crowley." Sam felt a red hot rage building inside him, his fist clenching at his side. "Should have known it was about more than just payback."

A cold, bitter smile formed on Dean's lips, his eyes lit with something dark and a little terrifying, even to Sam, as Dean replied very softly, "Oh, it's about payback now. He can count on it."

Sam fully agreed. But Crowley was a problem for another time. He turned his focus toward Cas, who was thankfully fully unconscious, and crouched down to lift the broken angel into his arms. Sam was surprised and relieved to find that Cas wasn't really all that heavy; his wings seemed to add nothing to his weight, which Sam supposed made a certain kind of sense, really. They weren't supposed to have a physical presence at all.

Even so, Sam stumbled slightly as he stood up, and Dean moved quickly to his side, and Sam's lips parted to caution him – but Dean just took Sam's arm, helping him get to his feet and find his balance – all the while, careful not to touch Cas anywhere.

It made Sam's throat feel thick, his eyes burn, to realize how seriously Dean was taking his promise. Sam knew that when they reached the bunker and made sure Cas was stable and safely on the way to recovering, he was going to need to take some time for his brother, to get him on the same path. But for now, it was Dean who was supporting Sam – steadying him as he rose to his feet, and then staying close behind him, a firm hand at Sam's back as he carried Cas up the stairs and out to the idling Impala, ready and waiting to take them home.