Cas woke up at 3:00 am again, and the room was dreadfully cold. He had the beginnings of a dream still lingering in his mind. It was dark, and there was someone in it that he had not noted before. He was a tall figure that always had his back to him. Try as he might, Cas could not get a good look at him. The man was following Ruby. She did not seem to know that he was there. She walked down the sidewalk with her headphones in her ears, head bobbing along to the music that she was hearing. The man stayed within ten paces of her. He took every turn that she took. There was something about the way that his hands curled and uncurled at his sides. Cas felt the overwhelming urge to stop him, to call out Ruby's name, so that she could run. He knew, though, that the dream would not allow him the opportunity to change a thing.

He kept up with them though. Ruby turned at a small brownstone and bounded up the steps. The man found a spot across the street and watched the house. Cas stared up too. He could see Ruby in the upstairs' window. She was just a silhouette, but it was clear that she was changing. Sam pulled up to the curb outside of the house a few moments later. He looked across the street and then up at the house. Somehow he could tell that the man was watching, that he wasn't casual. Sam began stalking over. The man ran.

There had been several other snippets like that. He was always watching. Sometimes he was in places that did not seem possible. He was in the office building. He was in Dean's house. He was in Sam's house. He was everywhere. He had always been everywhere. And as he was starting to turn, so that Cas could finally have a vision of his face, he woke up.

So, Cas did the only thing that he could do in moments like this; he wrote. He felt the cold overtake him and the old familiar out of body experience came too. He typed and typed for what must have been hours, because the sun came up and bathed him in early morning light. He felt his body warm a little as his fingers stopped their typing. He focused on the screen. He did not even remember what he had written.

He moved out of a need to loosen his cramped muscles. He got showered and dressed, hoping that he could power through at least a few hours of existence. He looked at his phone, but there were no messages from Dean. He ate his breakfast, which was cereal. He drank two cups of coffee. He considered going over to Dean's place. He wanted to be sure that he was okay. His phone buzzed. He looked at the message from Dean. So sick. He didn't reply. Instead he headed over to Dean's place to be a friend. Maybe he could whip up a hangover remedy.

Dean had opened the door by the second round of knocks. The sight that greeted him was troubling beyond what he had expected. He pushed past Dean, who practically fell to the side. "Hey." Dean croaked out. His arm was bloody, a long gash ran up it. Blood was still trickling out.

"What the Hell happened to you?"

"Too loud." Dean stumbled over to the kitchen. Cas caught ahold of him and forced him to look at him.

"Dean, what happened to your arm?" Cas shook him a little to get him to focus.

"Fell in the bathtub. No more shower door." He looked down at his arm with a squint. Cas dragged him to the bathroom, which looked like a crime scene. He tried rinsing him off, but the blood kept up a steady trickle. He grabbed a towel and wrapped his arm in it.

He grabbed Dean's chin and made him look up. "I'm taking you to the hospital for stitches. You've lost a lot of blood."

"Nah, I'm good. It's almost done." Dean looked from the tub to his arm. The room was so bloody. There were shards of shower door glass everywhere. Dean's feet were cut too. He left him for a moment and retrieved a plaid shirt to throw over him. He hoped that it would conceal some of the mess. He grabbed some flip flops out of Dean's closet and slipped them on his feet.

"Now, come on. Arm over my shoulder. That's a boy." He encouraged Dean as they made their way out of the apartment. He got him to the car, but it seemed like it took forever. Dean's feet seemed to be scraping along in a slow drag rather than in actual steps. He strapped him into the front seat and got into the driver's seat. He looked at Dean, who seemed to be losing consciousness. "Hey, Dean. Don't you dare fall asleep. You stay awake."

Dean slurred out, "Totally awake."

Cas raced for the hospital. When he got there, he didn't park in a spot; he just stopped the car right at the emergency room entrance. He yelled over to one of the nurses that came out to him. "I need help getting him in."

The rest was a bit of a blur. They wheeled Dean away and was left waiting. He looked at his hands and saw that they were smeared in Dean's blood. He went into a bathroom and cleaned himself up. He called home and got Dean's parent's phone number. They would want to know what had happened. Plus, he had lost a lot of blood, and they might be needed to help with that. He got through the explanations with his mom as quickly as possible. She was concerned and got him to promise to call back with news when things allowed. He moved out to a quieter waiting room, letting the nurse on duty know where to find him if anything happened with Dean. He dialed Mary's number. It rang several times before she answered.

"Hello." Her voice held that note of 'who are you.'

"Hello, Mary. This is Cas."

"Oh, hi there Cas. I don't have you in my contacts. What's up?" She was all cheer and sunshine.

"Are you at work?" He wanted to make sure not to shock her too much.

"No, just sitting out on the porch with a good book. How about you?"

"That's why I'm calling actually." He paused and took a deep breath. "I went over to visit Dean this morning and he apparently slipped in the shower. Took out the whole glass door. He cut himself up a bit."

"Oh God, is he okay?"

"I took him to the hospital to get some stitches. He lost a fair amount of blood by the time I got there, but I'm sure he'll be fine. I just thought that you'd want me to let you know right away. We're at the downtown hospital." He took another deep breath, hoping that he sounded calm. He didn't want her to panic and then drive over like that.

"Thank you Cas. I'm gonna come down now. Is he in the E.R.?" She sounded like she was already on the move.

"Yes. I'll see you when you get here." Cas hung up and waited. The room was quiet. He thought about Dean's words, 'Nah, I'm good. It's almost done.' He wondered if Dean meant that he was almost done bleeding because it was getting better or because he was about to die. Cas shuddered with the thought. He was rocking a little in his seat as he waited. A doctor poked his head into the waiting room nearly a half an hour later.

"You the one that brought Dean Winchester in?"

"Yes."

"He have any family coming in? I really can't share his information with anyone outside of his family."

"Yeah, his mom is on the way."

"Oh, good." He stood there a moment longer and added, "He'll be okay."

"Oh, thank God. I was worried. You could have said that right off you know." Cas was breathing steadily again. He hadn't realized that he was holding his breath.

Mary rounded the corner and came into the room. "Cas?" He stepped forward and hugged her, and then directed her to the doctor.

"This is Mary, Dean's mother."

"Good to meet you." He shook her hand. "Your son is going to be just fine. We stitched him up and we are dealing with the blood loss. He has been cooperative." The way that he said the last word let Cas know that the exact opposite was likely true.

"Can we go in and see him?" Mary seemed ready to move out the door to go find him no matter what the answer was.

"Of course. He'll need to rest for a bit though, so I want you both to keep it brief. Let me just get him moved to the new room first, and then I will come back and get you." He left and Mary took a seat by the door. Cas sat down across from her.

"I'm glad that he'll be okay. It was a lot of blood." Cas didn't mean to overshare, but the knowledge that Dean would now be okay was freeing his tongue.

Mary looked at him, and seemed to be reading something in his tone. "Cas, there's something that you aren't telling me."

"He was so upset about Sam not getting to be here for his birthday yesterday. I should have checked in on him. I just didn't. I thought that he would want space." Cas pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. He felt guilt, like somehow there was so much more to it than he could even admit out loud.

"What are you saying, Cas? Are you saying that this wasn't an accident?" Mary looked concerned, her brows wrinkling up.

"No, I don't think that. I just think that he wasn't being careful. He got drunk at the courtyard party and didn't handle himself right. I wasn't at the party, but I saw him, and I should have been the kind of friend that checked up on him. I didn't, and I feel like Hell for it."

"You have nothing to feel guilty over. If anything, I should have known better than to have taken his word for it when he said that he was fine. I, his mother, should have known what he was really saying. Maybe I did know. Maybe I just wanted to believe that he could be fine though. Maybe it's like it is right now, the way that I know that you aren't telling me everything that you are thinking." She stopped and Cas was about to speak, but she held up a hand. "I know him, Cas. I know that losing Sam was the worst thing in the world for him. He was drunk every night for the first month. The day he came to meet you was the first time he had been really sober for a long time. We worried that he would fall off the wagon again, start drinking himself to sleep every night."

"He still drinks." Cas didn't mean to share Dean's private details, but he was unable to turn his mouth off at this point.

"I know, but it isn't like it was. It's not to get drunk, to lose himself. This though," she waved her hand back at the hall, at Dean's distant room, at the hospital in general, "this will set him back. I'm afraid that it wasn't just an accident."

"It could have been," he muttered.

"Maybe, but a mother knows." She got up and cupped his chin. "Thank you for saving him, Cas. You are a blessing." The doctor returned and Mary looked down at her phone. "I called John right after you called me. He gets the worst reception out at the salvage yard."

"I can try to reach him while you are in with Dean," Cas offered.

"Maybe. He'll want to see you too, though."

"We can go see him now." The doctor motioned out to the hall and they followed him. He led them down the hall to the room that Dean was in. He moved aside a curtain and said, "I have visitors for you Mr. Winchester." He directed his attention back to Mary and Cas, "Like I said, be brief." He left and Mary made her way to Dean's side.

He looked a little weak as Mary pulled him into a hug. "My God, Dean. You've got to be more careful." She hugged him tighter.

"I'm just gonna step outside, Mary, give you both a few minutes." Cas nodded and stepped out into the hall. He saw the look in Dean's eyes as they both walked in, anger. He covered it before his mom could see it. He had John's phone number from when he had spoken with his mom. He tried it a few times. It went to voice mail. He leaned against the wall, feeling the texture of it with his fingertips. He waited. He tried John again. No luck. The clock in the hall kept clicking away the seconds. He thought about leaving, but something kept him rooted to the spot. Mary stuck her head out into the hall.

"You get ahold of John yet?"

"No, just his voicemail. I didn't leave a message."

"Dean asked to talk with you alone for a moment. I'll try to get John. Let me know when you are done talking with him. I plan to stay with him until the doctor forces me to leave." She gave his arm a squeeze and moved down the hall a bit, taking out her phone as she went.

Cas stepped back into the room cautiously. Dean was staring off out the window. His arm was bandaged and he was hooked up to tubes and equipment that was all too familiar to Cas. "Hey, Dean." He moved more into the room. Dean didn't look at him. "How're you doing."

"Great, Cas. Peachy." He looked at Cas then. Cas could see the anger from before.

"You're mad at me?"

"Nope."

"Yes you are."

"Yes, I am. I was going for irony just then." He glared over at Cas. "You didn't need to call my family over this. I slipped in the shower. It's not a fucking crisis, Cas."

Cas felt a growing unease. He was not used to people yelling at him or even raising their voices at him, and although Dean wasn't doing either of those things, it felt like he was. There was menace in the tone. It was upsetting. "You lost so much blood. I thought that you might need a transfusion. They might've needed donors, like your family."

"Really, is that also why my mom was asking me if this was really an accident?" He glared at Cas even more. "What did you say to her Cas?"

"I didn't say anything to her beyond what I saw. I didn't." He stopped. Why am I defending myself like this? I did nothing wrong.

"Yeah, well someone made her think that this wasn't an accident." He shifted a bit in the bed.

"You bled a lot. You bled so much. It takes a long time to lose that much blood."

"It was a goddamn accident." Cas moved away from the side of Dean's bed as he growled out the words. He faced the wall on the other side of Dean's bed. He pressed his forehead to it. He felt his body grow suddenly cold. The cold bit into him, deep into the marrow of his bones. It was like the late nights when he would write, the hovering that would happen just a breath away from his body, watching his fingers dance over the keys.

He turned back to Dean and his voice was not the quiet submissive voice from before. It was low and sandpaper rough. He said, "It may have started as an accident, Dean Winchester, but it certainly didn't end as one."

"What the Hell are you saying?"

He moved back to the bed. He hovered over Dean and Dean shrunk back into the pillow a bit. He looked like he was a little afraid, but covering it with the Dean Winchester mask of stoicism. "You may have fallen. You may have had a stupid half drunk accident that cut you up, but when the blood was flowing from your arm, you did nothing to stop it. You know how I know?" He waited a beat for Dean to acknowledge his question. He just stared. "You had two full, fluffy white towels hanging on your towel rack. they didn't have a drop of blood on them. That room was all bloody and you couldn't reach out and use one of those towels to hold back the bleeding?"

"Musta been lightheaded," Dean muttered.

"Bullshit." The cold around and in Cas grew stronger. "Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. You started bleeding and you decided to just let it happen. It could look like an accident, then no one would have to feel bad, least of all you. Am I right? Answer me Dean."

"No. Why would I do that? If I wanted to end my life, I'd just do it." Dean looked desperate, like he really wanted Cas to believe him.

"Now there is the million dollar question. Why would you do it this way? Maybe because you have seen a few things. You know how certain things work. I bet you have insurance, don't you?"

"I don't know what you are getting on here, but I don't need this. You can leave, Cas." Dean tore his gaze from him. The cold became sharp, like dagger points piercing his skin. He stooped down lower.

"I'll leave, but I have one more thing to say." Dean looked back at him. "It wouldn't be like it was with that guy you were investigating, the one that set the fires. You may have learned a thing or two from Ruby about how insurance works, how the insurance only pays out if it's via an accident. Suicide makes everything null and void." Dean was breathing heavily now. Cas was too.

"Leave."

"You asshole. They don't want it. They don't. You'd kill them if you did it. They need you to live. They already lost one son. Don't make them lose the other." He sucked in a breath and felt the coldness leave him.

Dean turned to him. His voice was low. His eyes were hard. "Leave." He turned away again, but this time Cas left. He didn't turn back, and he didn't say another word.