A/N: Thanks everyone for the reviews, favorites, and follows! And Cruelest Sea and guests Anonymous, Loreley, and anko. I really was sorry for the cliffhanger and a whole week between chapters! Loreley, you're not the only one who would like to see Ketch at least get shot, lol. And since I have a couple fics I want to play with (I think the BMoL might be my new favorite "villains"), it may yet happen...

"Banished"

Part II

Sam hit refresh on his browser's web page for the umpteenth time. Cas had been gone six hours, and still there were no recent reports of meteor landings in the continental US. Granted, articles didn't typically run past midnight. They'd have to wait for morning for the next news cycle to break.

And in the meantime, Sam just kept hitting that refresh button. He'd take a conspiracy theory nut's blog at this point if it'd just tell them where Cas was.

Unless he'd crash landed somewhere isolated, somewhere no one would find him… Sam couldn't let himself go there, though. Not yet. But if they didn't find him soon…

He glanced up at his brother, who kept alternating between checking and cleaning the weapons in their duffel, and getting up to pace the length of the beds. Every so often Dean would drift toward the door, and Sam imagined he was itching to grab a bottle of beer from the Impala's trunk. But Dean would pull himself back and resume his pacing. He'd want to be sober so they could get up and leave at a moment's notice.

They probably should have tried to get some sleep. The news results were still coming up empty, and their phones were on so if Cas found a way to call them, they'd wake instantly at the ringtone.

But neither of them laid down on the bed, too consumed with worry. Sam had seen Miriam stab Cas, and while it'd been done with an angel blade, Cas always seemed to bounce back from stuff like that. Hell, he'd had a block of rock yanked out of his stomach, followed by an angel-killing bullet, and managed to be walking the next day.

But throwing an angel banishing sigil on top of that…Sam didn't know what the effects of that would look like, only what Dean had told him after the incident with Ishim and Lily Sunder. Wounded angels that were banished might not survive. Sam wondered why it had never come up before, though maybe because when angels were blown back to Heaven, it was different. Now they bounced off the impenetrable gates and crashed back down to earth.

Sam hit refresh again.

12:21am.

The minutes dragged by with agonizing slowness, and no leads presented themselves.

Dean called Mom at 2:15am, and then quickly apologized for not realizing what time it was. After explaining what had happened, Dean asked her to keep her eyes and ears open. Then he hung up, looking just as dejected and defeated as before.

Sam tried to think if there were any other allies they could turn to. But Crowley's best resource would have been Rowena. Heaven was boarded up, and it wasn't like most angels were fans of Cas's to begin with. Billie was dead…not like she gave anything away for free. Or cheap.

At 5am, Sam's phone rang, and in his haste for news, he failed to register the caller ID before picking up. "Hello?" he answered quickly, anxious to hear Cas's voice on the other end saying he was in a phone booth and asking them to come pick him up.

But it was a British accent that responded instead.

"Sam, Mick Davies," the Man of Letters greeted with a casually chipper air that instantly made Sam clench his fist. "Just wanted to let you know we've confirmed the rogue angel was killed in the banishment. Found its body outside a town in Maine."

Sam was rendered utterly speechless. Those bastards had called to tell them that? Dean's worried look and hissed, "Is it Cas?" jolted him out of his stupor.

"It wasn't a 'rogue angel,'" he spat, though that detail was furthest from importance to him at the moment. "So congratulations, your buddy Ketch killed someone who was sick and wounded. Give him a medal."

There was a beat of silence on the other end. "I understand the other angel was banished as well," Mick said hesitantly. "Would you like some assistance in locating him?"

Sam almost told Mick where he could shove his offer of 'assistance,' but paused. "How did you find Miriam so quickly?" Especially if she'd crashed down in Maine.

"Who? Oh, right. Well, we're able to track supernatural disturbances on an atmospheric scale. Only for a general vicinity, of course. The rest is leg work." There was the sound of shuffling paper. "Our instruments detected two phenomena, one across the northeastern seaboard, the second heading toward the central-west. I'm afraid it's not more specific than that."

But it was a direction. Sam shut his laptop and waved for Dean to get their stuff together. His brother was still giving him impatient glares at being left out of the conversation, but Sam would fill him in on the drive.

"Shall I dispatch Mr. Ketch to lend his services?" Mick asked.

"You know what, no," Sam snapped. He didn't want the British Men of Letters anywhere near Cas, and certainly not finding him first if the angel was wounded and weakened. "You've done enough."

Sam almost hung up, but paused long enough to add, "And you might want to keep your distance for a while, because I won't be responsible for what my brother does if he sees you right now." He lowered his voice darkly. "Which will be nothing compared to what I'll do if you come near us or Cas."

Sam didn't wait for Mick's response, but abruptly disconnected and shoved his phone into his pocket.

"Sam?" Dean said, a thread of trepidation underlying his tetchiness.

"Head west," he said. "That's all I got."

Dean didn't waste time hurrying to the car, and they tore out of that place without bothering to properly check out. Sam switched to his phone, once again searching for any recent news stories about meteors or strange sightings that might sound angelic. It wasn't twenty minutes later he finally got a hit.

"I found him!"

Dean whipped his head around. "Where?"

"Felding, Utah." Sam's heart fell. It'd take them twelve hours to get there. He scanned through the article that was reporting a meteorite crash out in a vacant field. An unidentified man had been found in the crater and taken to a local hospital. His condition wasn't specified, but the important thing was Cas was alive.

But…if he was okay, wouldn't he have asked for a phone to call them by now? Sam tried not to dwell on that. He couldn't even call the hospital to ask because of patient confidentiality.

Sam dug his laptop out and started putting together documents for Cas—identification, health insurance, etc. He made sure to put it in the name of "Cas Winchester" so Sam and Dean would be admitted once they got to the hospital.

And maybe none of this would be needed. Maybe they'd show up and find Cas ready to walk out and head back to the bunker.

Deep down, though, Sam knew that likely wasn't going to happen…

Even with Dean pushing the speed limits, they still didn't arrive at the hospital until early evening. They'd had to stop and print the fake documents Sam had drawn up for Cas, and then take the extra time to wipe the buffer in the printer and erase the evidence of what they'd printed. But they were finally there and heading straight for Admitting.

"Excuse me," Dean said when they reached the counter. "We think our brother's been admitted here."

The woman swiveled her chair toward her computer. "Name?"

"He was the guy brought in from the meteor crash."

She withdrew her hands from the keyboard and gave them a suspicious look.

"Six feet, dark hair," Sam jumped in. "He would have been wearing a suit and beige overcoat."

Her mouth turned down. "He didn't have any identification on him…"

Sam pulled out the files. "Here. I grabbed everything we could find when we saw the news. We knew he was up in Felding, but couldn't get a hold of him."

The receptionist took the documents and looked them over, then made a few clacks on her keyboard. Dean leaned forward subtly, trying to get a look at the screen.

"I'll page the doctor to come down and speak with you," she finally said.

Sam tried to keep the reins on his impatience, and nodded gratefully. Cas was here. They'd found him, and he'd be fine…

It took the doctor fifteen minutes to come down, in which time Dean had been pacing anxiously and drawing the eye of the nearby security guard. The receptionist seemed to understand, though. She stood when an older man in a white lab coat with gray hair exited the elevator.

"Dr. Rael, these men are here about your John Doe. They might be his family." She passed Cas's fake driver's license over.

The doctor gave it a quick glance before nodding. "That's him." He turned to the Winchesters. "You're family?"

"He's our brother," Dean answered restlessly. "Is he okay?"

Dr. Rael held his arm out toward the elevator. "Why don't we go have a talk?"

Sam's pulse stuttered. "Please, just tell us."

"It is serious," Dr. Rael said carefully. "I'll explain on the way."

The receptionist held out the stack of documents Sam had given her. "I'll process the insurance and bring that upstairs, okay?" she said.

Sam nodded mutely as he accepted the papers, and then he and Dean followed Dr. Rael to the elevator. Sam's chest constricted more when he watched the doctor punch the button for the floor of the ICU.

The doctor waited for the elevator doors to close before turning to face them. "Your brother was brought in with multiple lacerations and abrasions, some minor burns, and a deep puncture wound in his side. We performed surgery to repair the tear in his stomach, and it was a success."

Sam exchanged a look with Dean; they knew that tone and what came next.

"But he never regained consciousness," Dr. Rael continued. "He's currently in a coma and on a ventilator, as I'm afraid there has been very minimal brain activity." He fell silent just as the elevator slowed to a stop and dinged. The doors slid open.

"Now, it's still early," Dr. Rael said cautiously. "But it has been twenty-four hours. I'm not trying to alarm you, but if things don't change within the next twenty-four…we might have to talk about options."

Options. Sam felt as though he'd been punched in the gut.

"We want to see him," Dean said gruffly.

The doctor nodded, and stepped out of the elevator. "Most of his injuries can be explained by being in that field when the meteor crashed," he went on. "Though rescue personnel apparently didn't see anything that might have caused the puncture wound. Any idea what your brother was doing out there?"

"Cas likes to go for walks," Sam answered. "Nature's calming."

The doctor nodded as he led them past several rooms with other patients. "He did have a badge on him, but his card said 'Agent Beyonce,'" Dr. Rael added, a note of inquiry in his tone.

Sam internally winced. He really should have made Cas a better cover, but the angel had just seemed so proud to have done it on his own, and Sam didn't have the heart to tell him it was bad. But now he was thinking that he needed to do up new cards for Cas that had at least one of their numbers on it as well, in case of situations like this.

Not like they'd ever imagined having to deal with situations like this…

"It's a prop," Dean answered smoothly. "Cas is an actor."

"Ah." Dr. Rael finally came to a stop in front of an open door. "Now, as I said, he's on a ventilator, and hooked up to several machines. It can be jarring, but I assure you, he is otherwise stable."

"Yeah, okay," Sam said, heart rate ratcheting up. He just wanted to get in there.

"I'll give you some time alone," Dr. Rael added. "But I'll be available if you have any questions."

Nodding distractedly, Dean pushed past the doctor first, and Sam followed. They both came to a halt at the sight of the figure lying in the hospital bed. It had been one thing to hear Dr. Rael explain it, and it wasn't like Sam and Dean were strangers to hospitals and machines, but to see Cas the one hooked up to them… 'Jarring' didn't begin to come close.

He was in a white, polka dotted hospital gown, the bedcovers drawn up to only his waist. Tubes and wires stuck out from under his collar where nodes were monitoring his heart. An IV line was attached to the back of one hand, and his mouth was obscured by a huge plastic piece holding an air tube in place. Next to the bed, a ventilator clicked and wheezed with steady, methodically delivered pushes of oxygen. Cas's dark hair was matted against an ashen forehead, and his face and arms were covered in small cuts and bruises that hadn't been there when he'd been fighting Miriam, which meant he must have gotten them in the crash landing.

Sam flicked a horrified look at his brother, and saw Dean's expression equally slack in dismay. Even with their worst fears running through their minds the past twenty-four hours, they hadn't expected to find this. Cas was an angel; he wasn't supposed to need manual oxygen to breathe, or surgery to repair a stab wound. What did his condition say about the state of his grace?

Dean finally moved forward, more cautiously than before, but still resolutely as he sank into one of the chairs beside the bed. Sam spotted another one in the corner and went to drag it over to Cas's other side.

"Remember when Cas used that banishing sigil on himself?" Sam spoke up. "He was in the hospital afterward, and didn't the doctors think he was brain dead then? And he got better."

A muscle in Dean's jaw ticked as he stared at Cas's lax face. "Yeah. Yeah, he bounced back from that."

And a host of other things since. He'd be okay this time, too.

But the rhythmic timing of the ventilator pump was like the raspy ringing of a death knell.

Sam's heart clenched, and he reached out to take Cas's hand. "Cas, hey, Dean and I are here. We found you." He swallowed hard, and gave the cold fingers a light squeeze. "You're, uh, pretty beat up, yeah? Just- just take whatever time you need to heal, okay? Dean and I aren't going anywhere."

The ventilator clicked and wheezed, and the heart monitor continued to beep out a low monotone.

Sam rested his arms on the edge of the bed and leaned closer. "Everything's going to be okay."

The waiting was killing Dean. He was friggin' relieved they'd found Cas so quickly—not that it had felt quick while they were stuck in the lurch—but the longer Dean had to sit and watch a damn machine breathe for his best friend, the more he was going to go crazy. It was just like with Sam after the Trials. Only this time there was no one to call for help. Cas wasn't human, so Dean didn't think Crowley would be able to do much. At the least, they'd need another angel, but Dean didn't trust any of them. Not after all the times angels had screwed Cas over.

No, they'd have to wait for Cas to pull himself back. He was one tough son-of-a-bitch, and had done it plenty of times before. Yet with each click and whir of the ventilator, Dean had to wonder if this would finally be the thing that Cas wouldn't recover from.

And there was nothing Dean could do about it.

Visiting hours ended, and the nurse came in to tell them they had to leave. Dean completely ignored her. Not even a horde of demons was going to tear him away from this room.

Sam didn't respond to her prodding, either, just kept holding onto Cas's hand as though it could keep the angel from slipping away from them.

The nurse eventually gave up, and in retrospect, Dean supposed they were lucky she hadn't called security to throw them out. Maybe she recognized a losing battle when she saw one.

Maybe she thought Cas wasn't going to last much longer and didn't want him dying alone.

Dean shoved that thought down as far as he could.

Sam eventually fell asleep, his head pillowed on one arm on the side of the bed. Dean pulled out his phone and sent his mom a text letting her know they'd found Cas. It was only after he hit send that he realized it was nearly 2am again. Dammit.

His phone lit up with a return message only two minutes later.

"Is he okay?"

Dean's thumb hovered over the virtual keyboard before he typed his response. "No. He's in a hospital. Coma."

"Need me to come meet you?"

Dean's throat grew tight. "No. Nothin you can do."

There was a brief pause between the next message. "I can be there."

Deep down, his heart twinged with a longing Dean rarely let himself feel, ever since that fateful night his mom had died. Having her back hadn't changed his resistance, especially once he realized his memories—or what he thought he remembered—didn't quite match up with the person who'd been abruptly thrust back into their lives.

"It's okay. You've got a hunt, right? Me and Sam got this. Will keep you updated."

Several seconds went by. "Okay. I love you."

Dean put his phone away. He didn't get any sleep that night, though god knew his body needed it. He wasn't as young as he used to be. But he'd sleep once he knew Cas was going to be okay.

Sam woke around seven when the morning nurse came in to check Cas's vitals. She cast them both sympathetic looks as she made some notes on Cas's chart, and then left again.

Sam stretched, popping a few vertebrae with a wince. "You get any sleep?" he asked.

Dean didn't dignify that with a response.

"Right. Um, how about I go find some coffee?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, that'd be good."

Sam flicked a nervous glance at Cas before tearing himself away.

Dean leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs. "Come on, Cas," he said under his breath. "You got this. Nothin' keeps you down for long, right?"

The bruises and cuts that showed no signs of healing stood out in stark contrast to that statement. Dean clenched his fists, anger burbling up out of frustration that had no outlet. He was pissed at Ketch for using that sigil. He was pissed at that angel for not listening when Cas was only trying to help her. And he was pissed that Cas was still so damn stubborn about running to the rescue of his dickhead siblings after all the pain they'd caused him.

Though, it wasn't like Cas did that only for angels. How many times had Dean hurt his best friend, and Cas had still always come when Dean called? He always came back. Even when Dean thought it was impossible.

Sam returned with a tray of two coffee cups and a couple donuts stacked between them. Dean took his portion wordlessly, and Sam settled back in his chair. The pastry tasted dry, though whether it was because it was hospital food or because Dean couldn't get the rancid taste of fear and worry out of his mouth, he didn't know. The coffee, at least, infused a little more energy into his brain.

"Do you think Rowena…?" Sam started, only to trail off.

Dean's jaw tightened. Asking the witch for a locating spell was one thing; asking her to dabble in witchcraft to manipulate Cas's life, maybe even his grace, was something else entirely. She may have helped out a few times in the past, but Dean sure as hell didn't trust her. Though, he probably trusted her more than he did an angel, and wasn't that just sad.

"Let's give Cas a chance first," he replied hoarsely.

Sam nodded, and went back to picking at his donut.

At nine, the doctor came in to 'discuss options,' but Sam abruptly told him that they weren't going to have that conversation, not yet. Dr. Rael had adopted a sympathetic and reasoning tone, to which Sam had snapped that the guy didn't know Cas. The doc had bowed out after that. It surprised Dean how close his little brother seemed to punching someone. Usually Sam was much more understanding.

"Not that I don't agree with you," Dean started, "but I'm not sure it's a good idea to punch out the doctor."

Sam slumped in his chair and crossed his arms sourly. "You got to punch Ketch."

True.

"You can punch him next time." Because as much as Dean hated the thought, he was pretty sure they hadn't seen the last of the British Men of Letters.

Sam let out a soft snort, and they fell silent again. Dean was really starting to hate the beeps and clicks and whooshes of the machines. He'd never liked those sounds, but they were wearing down his already frayed nerves. The worst part was they couldn't even tell if Cas was still here. What if…what if this was just Jimmy's body, but Cas was gone?

Thinking of Jimmy brought up thoughts of Claire, and Dean wondered if he should contact her. She and Cas had sorta kinda been growing closer. Dean knew they texted back and forth sometimes. But he didn't have anything definitive to tell her, and what was the point in making her worry? Dean was doing plenty of that for the both of them.

Feeling restless, he reached under the bed to pull out the bag of Cas's clothes and possessions he'd had on him when brought into the emergency room. The dress shirt was a total loss, having been cut off, as were the slacks. But those were easily replaced. The suit jacket and overcoat were filthy, yet Dean thought Cas could probably patch them up once his grace was recharged. Or at the very least, Dean could get the stains out. He had plenty of practice with that, after all.

Cas's fake FBI creds were in there as well, along with his phone, which was broken, the screen a shattered mess. Dean would have to buy him a new one.

The beeping on the monitor suddenly changed, a high-pitched blip that jumped above the monotonous baseline. Then again. Dean's heart leaped into his throat, but the monitor didn't flatline like he was afraid of; instead, the rhythm increased rapidly, and Cas's eyelids fluttered open.

"Cas?" Dean blurted. The son-of-a-bitch did it.

Cas blinked groggily a few times, but then his eyes flew wide and he lashed a hand up to claw at his mouth. The monitors went crazy with alarms.

"Cas!" Dean surged forward and grabbed his hand, wrenching it away from the tube. "Look at me. Look at me!" Dean clasped his other hand around the side of Cas's neck, squeezing firmly. "You're in a hospital. You're okay. I'm right here, I got you. Just look at me."

Sam had run from the room, shouting for a nurse. Dean didn't move. Cas locked eyes with him, pupils dilated with panic and chest practically heaving.

"It's okay, man, it's okay. There's a tube in your throat to help you breathe. Sam's getting the doctor and they'll take it out, I promise. Just look at me."

Cas stared back at him, obviously freaking out, but as Dean held his gaze, his struggles slowly eased. Footsteps rushed in from behind, and the doctor came around the other side of the bed.

"Mr. Winchester, my name is Dr. Rael. I know it's disorienting, but if you can calm down, we need to check your oxygen levels before we can get that tube out, alright?"

Cas shot a terrified look at the doctor, and Dean squeezed the side of his neck to draw his attention back.

"I got you." You trust me?

Cas gave a small, jerky nod.

"If you could step back," Dr. Rael said to Dean.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said, not taking his eyes from Cas's, making that promise to his best friend. He did, however, shift his position from holding Cas down so the doctor could get in there.

The nurse wedged herself around Dean to get at the ventilator, and on the doctor's instructions, started decreasing the rate of oxygen flow. Cas's eyes never left Dean's as the nurse monitored his vitals in response to the weaning.

"Alright, looks good," Dr. Rael said, and unhooked the tube at the mouth piece. The nurse removed the lengthy tube and pushed the ventilator aside, then pressed a button on the bed to raise it a few inches.

"I'm removing the tube," Dr. Rael said, and then he deftly pulled it out.

Cas coughed violently as he was extubated, and Dean winced with sympathy. The nurse was there with a cup of water, which Dean took from her.

"Easy, easy." He braced Cas's head for him to sip some of it.

Cas's face scrunched up and he nearly hacked it up again, but then he collapsed back against the pillow, breathing raggedly and grimacing in apparent pain.

Sam pressed himself up beside Dean, reaching out to touch the lump of Cas's knee under the blanket. "Cas, hey."

Cas pried his eyes open to gaze up at them blearily, and while there was still confusion, the fear was dissipating.

"Can you tell me your name?" Dr. Rael asked.

Cas flicked a wary look at him, then back at Dean and Sam, as though looking for cues.

"They just wanna check you know who you are," Dean reassured him.

Cas licked his lips. "Cast- Cas," he rasped, voice hoarse from the intubation.

"Who's the president?"

Cas's brow pinched. "The president of what?"

Dr. Rael's mouth quirked. "Of America."

Cas hesitated, and Dean really hoped he wasn't going to say 'Lucifer.'

"Jefferson Rooney," he finally croaked, and reached a hand up to rub his throat.

The doctor nodded. "Your throat will be sore for a bit. Do you remember what happened?"

Again, Cas looked to Dean and Sam, and shook his head.

"You were in a field when a meteorite struck," Dr. Rael explained.

Cas blinked slowly. "How…unlucky," he said, an uncertain inflection in his tone.

"Actually," the doctor replied, "you're very lucky to be alive. You have a host of contusions and abrasions, but also a deep wound in your side, though we're unsure what exactly caused it."

Cas's hand drifted down to his stomach, and he winced.

"You've been in a coma for the past two days," Dr. Rael went on. "And I must say, your sudden revival is quite the unexpected feat. We'll run some tests, make sure everything is in working order."

"I'm fine," Cas said abruptly, sounding more gravelly than normal but with a trace of that authoritative angel-of-the-lord. Too bad it was belied by another grimace and him barely being able to lift his head off the pillow.

"Still, better to be safe," Dr. Rael said, as though he were used to dealing with obstinate patients. "I'll get the tests ordered." With that, he and the nurse excused themselves.

Cas threw Dean and Sam a worried look. "What happened?" he wheezed, and Dean hated how weak he sounded. But he was conscious, and breathing, and that was a massive improvement.

"Miriam started trying to cast some kind of spell," Sam said in a low voice.

Cas nodded. "I remember that." He winced and rubbed at his throat.

Dean picked up the cup of water and held it to his lips again. "That bastard Ketch used an angel banishing sigil. Took us a whole day to find where you'd been blasted to, but we did."

Cas's brow furrowed, and then his eyes widened. "Miriam?"

Dean almost shook his head; of course Cas would be concerned about her.

Sam gave him a sad look. "I'm sorry, Cas, she didn't make it."

"Are you sure?" he rasped. "Perhaps she was found and brought to a hospital…"

"We found where she landed," Sam interrupted gently.

Cas squeezed his eyes shut under a swell of grief.

"You did everything you could," Dean said, not wanting Cas to feel even remotely guilty over this. It was Ketch's fault, not theirs.

"She wasn't evil," Cas whispered.

"We know," Sam said softly.

Cas shifted, and his face screwed up in pain.

"You're gonna be okay, right?" Dean asked. "Your mojo going to kick in eventually?"

Cas seemed to force his eyes open, and nodded. "I just need to rest, but I'll recover."

"Okay, good." Dean finally let himself feel the full measure of relief he'd been tentatively holding back since Cas had opened his eyes. He patted Cas's shoulder. "Then you rest."

"Not here. Where are my clothes?" Cas tried to sit up, only to let out a pained grunt and fall back again.

"Dude, you can't even walk," Dean chided. "And you just came out of a coma. Relax, Sam's a genius with the insurance papers. You're good to stay here a bit longer."

"I don't want to stay here," Cas retorted almost petulantly. "I want to go home."

Dean couldn't help but quirk his mouth a fraction. But it also filled him with a strong sense of pride and relief that Cas now thought of the bunker as home. Because Dean remembered what that douche Ishim had said, about Cas having no wings, no home. It wasn't true, and it had eaten at Dean after that, hoping his best friend didn't really buy into it. He was glad to hear the confirmation.

"It's a twelve-hour drive back to the bunker," Dean said. "And you've still got a hole in your gut. Don't even think of trying to deny it," he added pointedly.

Cas leveled an unamused glare at him. "I don't want the doctors running tests. I'm an angel, remember?"

Dean smirked, but took a moment to eye Cas critically. He definitely didn't look up to a lengthy haul, but hey, he'd just gone from coma to awake and talking in thirty seconds flat. Dean glanced at his brother.

Sam's mouth was pressed in a thoughtful line, and he shrugged one shoulder. "I mean, who knows what the tests will show. We probably don't want to pique the doctor's curiosity."

True.

"Alright," Dean said. "We'll bust you outta here."

Cas sagged against the mattress. "Thank you."

"I'll go find a wheelchair," Sam said.

"And some scrubs," Dean added, throwing an apologetic look back at Cas. "Your clothes are kind of a mess."

Cas dropped his gaze to his hospital gown. "Oh."

Sam leaned over to give his hand one last squeeze. "You're in one piece, and that's all that matters." He turned to head for the door.

"Thank you," Cas spoke up again, this time more quietly, but it was enough to draw Sam to a stop as he looked back. Cas lifted his eyes first to Sam, then to Dean. "For finding me."

There was a lot of weight behind that statement, a lot of history where the Winchesters had failed to do exactly that. But Dean couldn't let himself dwell on past mistakes. The guilt would crush him if he let it.

He reached out to clasp Cas's shoulder. "We'll always find you." We'll always bring you home.

A small smile graced Cas's face, and he closed his eyes in rest. Dean turned his head to meet Sam's gaze of solidarity. Time to do exactly that.