"Just… give me a minute to talk to him, all right?"

Sam winced at the exhausted scratch of his own voice, his eyes burning with the salt of the tears he'd shed not even an hour earlier. All he really wanted right now was a few hours' sleep – but Cas had waited long enough, had suffered enough needless pain because of them. Sam and Dean stood in the hall outside Cas's bedroom. In his hand, Dean held the same blade he'd used to carve the sigil into his arm to initiate Jacob's Call. It was time to break the bond, to finally allow Cas to begin to heal, now that it was safe to do so.

"I just don't want to – to catch him off guard, you know?"

Sam studied Dean's reaction as he spoke, his heart sinking as he took in the taut lines of his brother's face, the way Dean wouldn't quite look at him. Sam knew the last thing Dean wanted was to be reminded again of how horribly things had changed between himself and Cas, how terrified Cas was of Dean now.

"Yeah, sure," Dean agreed, his eyes averted, a swallow visible in his throat. "Don't want any repeats of what happened last time, do we?" His tone was low and controlled, but there was an unmistakable note of disgust in his voice, and Sam knew it was directed at himself, for his own mistake. Sam instinctively stepped forward, reaching out a hand toward his brother.

"Dean…"

Dean tensed, taking a half step back before Sam could touch him. "Don't, Sam," he said, holding up a hand in front of him, but still not meeting Sam's eyes. "This isn't – isn't about me…"

"Dean, you… don't," Sam said softly, making no attempt to disguise the slight tremor in his voice as he edged forward, deliberately turning so that when Dean backed away again, the wall behind him kept him from going too far. "Please. You promised. You promised you wouldn't shut me out."

Dean closed his eyes when his back hit the wall, shrugging Sam's hand off his shoulder, eyes focused on the floor. "I know, I – I'm not," he insisted, agitated and defensive and not even a little bit convincing. "It's just – Cas. We need to focus on getting this done right now, getting him… getting better, you know?"

Sam hesitated. Dean was visibly trembling, everything about his demeanor screaming for Sam to back off – but Sam knew it wasn't because Dean didn't want the contact. It was because he didn't believe he deserved it.

"Not now, Sam." Dean's voice was sharp and impatient, but Sam couldn't miss the desperation behind the words. "This isn't the time to talk about – how I feel. I'll feel a hell of a lot better once this bond is broken and I know Cas is healing. Once he doesn't have to wonder every second if I'm gonna – come in there and – and take advantage of the fact that he can't fight me back." Finally, Dean looked up to meet Sam's eyes, and the sorrow there took Sam's breath. "Let's just… just do this for him, okay?"

Sam couldn't argue with that. He took a step back, feeling a little hurt when Dean let out a visible sigh of relief. "Okay," Sam relented softly. "I'll be right back."

Dean nodded, eyes averted again – and Sam could almost feel the walls he was already putting up again. Sam knew it was going to be a constant job, breaking them down again, making sure Dean wasn't cutting himself off from the only support he had left to him. He had no intention of allowing Dean to close himself away and quietly self-destruct.

But at the moment, he had to focus on another, more immediate task. Sam knocked lightly on Cas's bedroom door before opening it just a little and looking in. Sam was pleased to see that Cas was awake and standing beside the bed, half-turned toward the door with wide, startled eyes. He was wearing only the soft pajama bottoms that Sam had given him after his bath, the white bandages on his chest and arms barely contrasting with the pale skin they covered.

"Just me," Sam assured him, holding up his hands as he carefully approached. "It's okay."

Cas visibly relaxed as Sam reached him, extending a hand to rest on Sam's shoulder, lowering his head with a heavy breath.

"It's okay," Sam repeated, hushed and soothing, raising a hand to rest at the back of Cas's head. "He's not coming in without your permission, Cas. All right?"

Cas lowered his head further, nodding against Sam's shoulder without making a sound. Sam could feel the fine tremor of Cas's body against his, and slid an arm around his back, beneath his wings, pulling him in close. Cas's nearly tangible fear, his desperation for safety and reassurance, called out to something strong and protective in Sam and demanded a response – and Sam found that with each passing moment, that response felt more natural and easier to give.

He wasn't exactly sure whether or not that was a good thing. It was just – how things were.

Sam stroked his fingers slowly through Cas's hair, his voice quiet and concerned. "Are you ready?"

Cas shook his head, drawing in a shaky breath and looking up to meet Sam's eyes with dread. "I – I have to see him do it," he stated, as if trying to convince himself.

"Yeah, I think you do," Sam agreed with an apologetic grimace. "You need to know it's done."

"I just… wish I didn't have to see… h-him…"

"I know," Sam said softly. "I know it's hard, but – I'll be right here. You're perfectly safe, Cas."

Cas nodded, looking no less miserable at the prospect.

Sam considered for a moment, quiet, slowly stroking the back of Cas's neck. "What can I do to make you feel more comfortable with this?"

Cas looked up at him, unmasked gratitude in his eyes. His voice was barely over a whisper when at last he replied, "Stay close?"

A pang of guilt struck Sam's heart with the words. "Of course," he agreed softly, swallowing down the ache in the back of his throat.

"And…" Cas hesitated. "Can you help me cover my wings? I don't want him to see – any of them. Please."

"Yeah, sure."

Sam glanced around the room for a solution before taking the quilt from the bed and draping it carefully over Cas's shoulders, from behind this time so that he could hold it closed in front of him. Unthinking, he ran a gentle, protective hand down the quilt over Cas's back, as he walked around to stand facing him again.

"How's that?"

Cas shivered, and Sam immediately pulled his hand away, holding it up in front of him, studying Cas's face with a worried frown. "Sorry… sorry…"

"No, it's… it's all right." Cas's voice was strangely shy, and he offered Sam a faltering, self-conscious attempt at a smile. His face was flushed bright red, his eyes averted as he continued, "You – did not hurt me. It's all right."

Sam considered Cas's choice of words, before adding cautiously, "It's not about - not hurting you. Not just about that, anyway. Cas - I don't want to make you uncomfortable. If you - don't want me touching you…"

"I do," Cas interrupted. His eyes widened and he looked away again, amending quietly, "I mean… it doesn't make me… uncomfortable. When you touch me. It makes me feel…" He hesitated, frowning slightly as he tried to come up with the right word, then concluded softly, "... calmer. Safe. So…" He glanced up at Sam again, that shy, self-conscious expression on his face again. "... please. I don't want you to stop."

Sam studied his face for a moment, until he was confident of Cas's sincerity, and then nodded. "Okay," he agreed, feeling a small surge of warmth that something he was doing, however small, was actually helping. A smile curved his lips before falling away. "Are you ready?"

Cas closed his eyes, swallowing slowly, and Sam felt Cas's hand tighten in the fabric of his shirt, before he finally nodded, letting out a shuddering breath. "Yes. Okay. Yes, I'm ready." But he didn't open his eyes, didn't let go of Sam.

Sam lifted his hand to cover Cas's, squeezing gently before sliding his fingers under Cas's to carefully uncurl them. "It'll be okay," Sam promised one more time, as he lowered their joined hands, then let go and stepped away toward the door.

****************************************

***

Dean paced the hallway, anxiously waiting for Sam to return, his ears straining to pick up some trace of whatever conversation was taking place on the other side of the bedroom door. He could hear their voices, but so quiet and muffled that he couldn't make out the words. His heart raced, damp fingers sliding against the hilt of the knife in his hand.

He was about as eager to see Cas right now as he guessed Cas was to see him.

His stomach lurched when the door finally opened, and Sam looked out into the hall. "Come on," he said quietly, nodding for Dean to follow him before disappearing back into Cas's room.

Dean drew in a steadying breath, squaring his shoulders and stepping across the threshold. It took him a few moments to work up the nerve to look up, and by the time he did, Sam was already close at Cas's side, both of them seated on the edge of the bed. Cas's hand was white-knuckled, clenched around the corners of what seemed to be becoming his security blanket, Sam's arm draped protectively around his shoulders.

It wasn't rational, and it wasn't fair, but something rose up in Dean at that sight - something ugly and accusing, a whispered reminder in his thoughts that Sam hadn't any right to be touching Cas like that - as if he was Cas's champion, the hero standing between Cas and the monster that had hurt him.

As if Sam had to prevent Dean from hurting Cas again.

And Cas - Cas wouldn't even look at him. He was staring down at his lap, leaning hard into Sam's side, his face pale and eyes wide as saucers. As Dean watched, Sam bowed his head next to Cas's ear, speaking softly, and Cas nodded, closing his eyes. Sam's hand rose to cup the back of Cas's head, long fingers slowly carding through disheveled dark hair - naturally, almost casually intimate - and Dean felt a sick feeling creeping up the back of his throat.

This wasn't just jealousy, or resentment, or even regret that he'd lost any right to such contact with Cas.

This was a gut-deep certainty, undeniable - that this was wrong.

"Dean."

At the sound of Sam's voice, Dean drew his gaze away from the expression on Cas's face - far mingled with relief, and an almost worshipful level of trust that made Dean's stomach churn with his rising unease - and forced himself to focus on his brother.

Sam was looking up at him with compassion, clearly understanding that this wasn't an easy thing for Dean to do - but his expression was expectant as well, his eyes darting a little impatiently toward Cas for a moment before he met Dean's gaze again.

"Come on," Sam said quietly, with a single, encouraging nod. "Let's do this."

"Yeah. Okay." Dean held out his left arm, sleeve rolled up to expose the sigil he'd carved there, the blade held ready in his right hand. Dean opened his mouth to speak, but his mouth was suddenly dry, and he swallowed hard, struggling to maintain his composure before trying again, quiet and cautious. "Cas."

Cas tensed visibly at the sound of Dean's voice, his eyes darting toward Dean, faltering slightly before settling on the mark on Dean's arm.

"I never should have made this bond in the first place." Dean watched Cas's face as he placed the edge of the blade against the sigil. "If I could go back…" He stopped, letting out a frustrated sigh. He kept trying the same words, kept hoping for some kind of absolution, some measure of peace - but they were just as useless, every time. "This is all I can do. So…"

Dean drew the blade across the sigil, wincing at the sting as it sliced through flesh that was still sore from the original ritual. Then he wiped the blade on his jeans, setting it down on the dresser beside him. He kept his eyes focused on the blood running from the wound, rather than on Cas, as he spoke to him.

"There," he said, his voice low and grim. "It's done. You're no longer - bound to me, and your grace - it should be free, now. So I - can't hurt you. You know, any more than anyone else can. And - you can hurt me - and, I couldn't blame you if you wanted to, so…"

Dean glanced up then, and his voice trailed off when he saw the way Cas was shaking, his face hidden against Sam's chest, his hand clenched tight in the sleeve of Sam's shirt. Sam was intently focused on Cas, who seemed alarmingly small and vulnerable, wrapped in Sam's long arms. Dean knew how those arms felt - remembered Sam's voice, steady and reassuring as he'd held Dean at the top of the basement stairs in Rufus's cabin.

"Whatever you have to do… there's no other choice. Whatever you have to do, it's okay…"

As Dean watched, Sam looked up at him, hazel eyes locking onto Dean's - but only for a moment before Sam abruptly looked away. He focused his attention back on Cas instead, speaking to him softly, one hand slipping beneath Cas's blanket to rest at the base of Cas's spine - and Dean felt suddenly, overwhelmingly sick.

He couldn't watch this - not for another second. Without another word, he spun on his heel and headed for the door, closing it none too gently behind him.

*************************************************************

Sam felt Cas flinch against him as the door shut behind Dean, and tried to suppress his own response. Dean's abrupt departure had done nothing to release the tension in the room, and Sam could feel his own anxiety rising in his chest as his brother got further away. That little scene hadn't provided any of the closure they'd all undoubtedly hoped for, and Sam couldn't miss the hurt in Dean's eyes when he'd taken in the way Sam and Cas were together.

And while part of Sam wanted to stay and soothe Cas, who was trembling worse than ever after the brief encounter, the greater part of him needed to go after Dean.

"Hey," he murmured, schooling his voice so his tension wouldn't show. "It's over now, Cas. He's gone." He rubbed a hand up Cas's back, only realizing when he brushed the edge of a bandage that it was still underneath Cas's blanket. Feeling guiltier than the gesture probably warranted, he quickly pulled his hand away and settled it safely on top of the quilt. "How do you feel? Any different?"

Cas was quiet for a moment, going still in Sam's arms before he slowly, awkwardly straightened up, drawing in a hitched, shuddering breath and letting it out slowly. "I - I'm not sure," he admitted at last. "It's - probably too soon to tell." He glanced up at Sam, self-conscious and apologetic. "I'm sorry…"

"It's okay," Sam said, trying not to show the worry caused by Cas's answer. He'd been anticipating that at least some of the healing would be immediate, and Cas's uncertainty made him question if something might have gone wrong – if the bond had even been undone at all. "Maybe you just need some rest." He pulled his hand down from where it was resting on Cas's back, though he didn't shift away just yet. "Do you want to try and sleep?"

Cas hesitated, but then nodded, visibly fighting to get his emotions under control. "Yes. That could be helpful. I'll - I'll just lie down here for a while." He paused before adding uncertainly, "You… don't have to stay."

Sam opened his mouth in automatic protest, then stopped himself, as the image of his brother - distraught and retreating, pulling further away from Sam with every moment - filled his mind. "Thank you," he said instead, and stood, reaching out to assist Cas to his feet as well. "Get some rest. I'll check in on you later."

"All right," Cas agreed, waiting until Sam had moved away from the bed to lie down carefully on his side, pulling the blanket up over himself as best he could. "Thank you, Sam."

"No problem." Sam leaned down to adjust the blanket, settling it over Cas's wings and smoothing it a little before straightening up again and heading for the door.

He found Dean pacing angrily back and forth in his own room, the slightly open door all the invitation Sam was going to get - and all he needed, at the moment. He pushed the door open, but didn't enter. "Hey."

Dean stopped for a moment, glaring up at Sam, lips parted to speak - before resuming his furious pacing, muttering something under his breath as he turned away from his brother.

Sam leaned against the doorframe and closed his eyes for a moment, suddenly overwhelmingly tired and certain that he wasn't going to like whatever was coming. Lifting his head, he took in the set of Dean's shoulders and crossed his own arms in response. "All right, Dean, lay it on me."

Dean turned to face Sam again, incredulous, eyes blazing. He was quiet for a moment before he spoke, his voice tight with barely controlled fury. "Like you don't know?"

Frustration came over him in a wave, and Sam clenched his jaw, trying to hold it back. "You know what, Dean? Apparently I don't!" He took a step forward into the room before halting himself. "Believe it or not, between running from Cas to you to Cas to you for days, I haven't been able to pick up a lot of nuance."

Dean stared at Sam for a long moment, before a cold, angry smile formed on his lips, and he replied in a tone that was clipped and a little too calm. "Well, then allow me to spell it out for you, Sam, if you really can't see anything wrong with what was going on in that room. With the way he's - hanging all over you like you're - his fucking savior or something, and you - allowing it like it's perfectly normal, and your hands all over him like you didn't…" Dean stopped, attempting to regain control before trying again. "Like you're his fucking…" He gave up a second time, looking up at Sam with furious accusation. "It's fucked up, is what it is, Sam. And don't even pretend like you don't know it."

An incredulous little laugh escaped from Sam's lips. "That's what this is about?" He shook his head, training his gaze on the wall for a moment before returning his gaze to Dean. "You actually think I don't know that this is ten thousand kinds of jacked?" He lifted his arms. "What are my alternatives here, huh? Do you want me to leave him alone? He said it makes him feel safe, Dean. But I'm supposed to tell him, nope, sorry, can't do it because my brother is jealous? I'm not going to touch you, even though I'm the only person you'll allow near you, because I know I don't deserve to? What do you want me to tell him, Dean?"

"Jealous?" Dean's voice shook with rage. "You think this is because I'm jealous... of you and Cas?" Dean let out a hoarse, mirthless laugh, his words bitter and angry when he continued. "This is so not about me, Sam. No, this is about what happens when he finds out the truth… if he ever figures out that there were two of us involved in this whole thing, and he's been pouring out his fucking heart to one of them all this time - and you've just been letting him…" Dean shook his head, his voice lower, almost pleading, as he concluded, "It's not fair to him, Sam. It's not right."

Sam let his arms drop, breath leaving him in a rush, most of the anger going with it. "No, it's not," he said. "It's an awful situation, and we're just trying to do the best we can. But – this was your idea, Dean." Dean opened his mouth to protest, and Sam held up a hand as he continued, "It's the best idea we've got. It's not like we've got a lot of options. I'm just saying that… you're the one who wanted to keep this a secret, so Cas could have someone he felt he could trust." He shrugged helplessly. "If that's what you're upset about, well, you're going to have to tell me what you want, because – I thought this was it, and if it's not, then… then I just don't know."

Dean's shoulders fell, his voice quiet and defeated as he replied. "I - I don't, either. I - I didn't want any of this, not - not this way." He pressed his thumb and forefinger against his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry, Sammy," he whispered at last, shaking his head. "I'm sorry."

Anger now entirely gone, replaced with a deep ache in his chest for the grief and confusion Dean had to be feeling, Sam stepped forward and put his hands on Dean's upper arms, attempting to draw him in.

"Sam… don't." Dean's voice was broken, miserable, as he pulled away, taking a backward step that took him up against the wall, trying to shrug off Sam's hands. "Just…"

"Dean." Sam kept his voice quiet but firm, not letting Dean keep any space between them. "Hey, don't shut me out, okay?" He pulled Dean back against his body, wrapping his arms around Dean's stiff form and hanging on.

Dean remained resistant a few moments longer, his body taut and trembling in Sam's arms, his breath coming in shuddering gasps until he finally relented, lowering his head to rest on Sam's shoulder and sliding his own arms around Sam's waist. A moment later, his hands were clutching Sam closer to him, a muffled sob escaping his lips against Sam's shirt.

"Shh." Sam kept his arms tight around Dean's body, and brushed a kiss against his temple. "I'm sorry, too. I know you wish you could do more."

Sam felt an overwhelming sense of relief when Dean turned into his kiss, closing his eyes and relaxing a little more into Sam's arms. Sam pressed his lips to Dean's cheekbone, then the corner of his mouth, coaxing until Dean turned his head the rest of the way, allowing their mouths to meet. He kept the contact gentle, just comfort, pressing their lips together over and over until Dean was pliant in his arms. Then he pulled away just enough to murmur, "Lay down with me?"

Dean leaned forward as Sam pulled back, his hands clinging to Sam's waist, keeping him close. "Yeah," he agreed, his voice hoarse and heavy with exhaustion. "Yeah, sounds good."

Sam methodically stripped them of their clothes, taking them down to t-shirts and boxers before leading Dean over to the bed and climbing in beside him. Shifting close, Sam pulled at Dean until he was tucked up against Sam's side, head resting on Sam's shoulder. "He's gonna be okay," Sam murmured, closing his eyes and feeling sleep dragging at him immediately. "He's gonna heal now, and he won't be so scared, and it'll get better, Dean."

Dean was asleep almost before Sam finished talking. And with Sam's exhaustion sweeping over him, tugging him under, it was easy to believe the hushed promises he was offering - to let the doubts in the back of his mind fade away, and simply give into the enticing pull of sleep. For the first time in far too long, Sam allowed himself to just rest in the warm familiarity of his brother's arms, the reassuring litany repeating itself in his mind.

It'll get better. It will. Everything is going to be okay...