A/N: Thank you Guest for your review! And everyone for keeping up with this fic! It makes it all that much more fun for me. :D

Chapter 5

Dean probably would have thrown more of a fit about Balthazar teleporting them away and leaving the Impala at the park, but at the moment he was more concerned about Cas, and it wouldn't be a horrendous walk to go retrieve it later. So he kept his displeasure to unintelligible grunts when they all landed in the motel room. Three sets of eyes turned to the little angel, who shifted his weight nervously under the attention.

"Have you ever heard of anything like this before?" Sam broke the silence.

"No," Balthazar replied thoughtfully. "He didn't tell you what happened?"

"He refuses to say anything," Dean put in. "He drew a sigil—you didn't recognize it?"

Sam leaned toward Dean and lowered his voice, "It was a trap designed specifically for Cas with his name."

Dean felt one hand furl into a fist. "So it was angels." Only they would know how to write Castiel's name in Enochian.

Cas climbed onto the bed where Sam's laptop sat from earlier, and started poking the keys.

"Uh, Cas?" Sam queried.

"How do I make the coyote come back?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "You can watch cartoons later. Right now we need to figure this out."

Cas stubbornly shook his head and continued jabbing at the keyboard.

Sam stepped around to face Dean and Balthazar. "Look, he's obviously traumatized."

"We can't exactly wait around hoping he draws more pictures of being attacked," Dean retorted under his breath.

"I could look into his mind," Balthazar spoke up, and started forward with two fingers reaching out.

Cas's eyes widened and he jerked away. "No!"

Balthazar froze, and Dean's guard immediately went up. Was Cas now reacting to Balthazar…or something else?

"Cas," Sam said gently. "We need to know what happened. If Balthazar just takes a quick look—"

"No!" Cas scrambled back until he slid off the bed and bumped into the corner wall. "I won't tell, I won't tell." He clapped his hands over his ears, squeezed his eyes shut, and shook his head back and forth, repeating that phrase over and over. "I won't tell. I won't tell."

Dean's heart plummeted into his stomach. They had no idea what had happened to Cas, but this reaction…it spelled 'interrogation,' to Dean. And he had to tamp down the desire for violence that filled him at that thought; he didn't want to scare Cas any more than he already was.

"Hey, hey buddy, it's okay," Dean soothed, slowly moving toward the corner of the bed and kneeling down on the floor. "No one's gonna make you tell. We just want to help you. So can you let Balthazar see the attack? Just that; he won't look at anything else."

Cas looked up with anguished eyes. "It'll hurt."

Sam frowned at Balthazar. "Will it?"

"No," the angel replied, voice tight with barely constrained emotion. Dean hadn't thought the guy could care so much. "But if someone else used a spell to try and gain information from Castiel…"

"How does turning him into a kid help do that?" Dean asked.

"It doesn't. I don't know how to explain that part." Balthazar crossed his arms in consternation.

Dean looked back at Cas, waiting to catch the kid's eye. "Hey, you know I'd never let anyone hurt you, right?"

Cas slowly nodded.

"Okay. So if I'm right here, will you let Balthazar look? If it hurts or gets to be too much, I'll make him stop, alright?" Dean held out his hand.

Cas stared at Dean for a long moment before finally uncurling from his hunched position. He placed his tiny hand in Dean's, and let himself be led out from behind the bed. Dean picked him up and sat down on the edge of the mattress, bracing Cas on his lap. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered how weird this was, but the way Cas clung to him reminded Dean of when Sam used to have nightmares as a kid, and Dean was the fearless older brother able to banish the monsters from the closet. He never thought he'd see Cas the same way, but here they were.

Balthazar took a tentative step closer, and Dean skewered him with a sharp look. "Be gentle."

"Of course." The angel slowly reached out, and set two fingers to Cas's forehead.

Dean felt Cas stiffen, and so wrapped his arms around him tighter. A tiny fist curled itself in the cuff of Dean's sleeve. Dean watched Cas's face like a hawk for any sign of distress, but while his eyes were squeezed shut and he appeared uncomfortable, he didn't let out any sounds of pain. Balthazar's expression also seemed pinched with discomfort, and a moment later he broke away.

Dean patted Cas's arm. "You did great, buddy."

Cas blinked up at him and smiled shyly.

Balthazar gave himself a small shake. "It's like an acid trip in there."

"What'd you see?" Sam pressed.

"Near as I can tell, this…" He gestured at Cas. "Was an accident. Whatever spell was being performed, the ingredients got knocked over and spilled onto the sigil that had Castiel trapped. He escaped in the resulting chaos."

"Do you know who was behind it?" Dean asked.

"No," Balthazar responded, frustration tingeing his voice. "Everything's jumbled in Castiel's mind, just like his grace. Maybe if I had delved further I could have found a piece—but I'd rather not do that to him," he added pointedly.

Dean met that gaze stoically, acknowledging that the angel really did have Cas's best interests at heart, just like the Winchesters did.

"So what do we do?" Sam spoke up.

"I'll have to go back to Heaven and try to track down the exact spell that could do this, and find its counter." Balthazar looked down at Cas regretfully. "In the meantime, you two need to look out for him."

"That was never in question," Dean replied indignantly.

Balthazar shook his head. "You don't understand. Fledglings are vulnerable—Cas's grace is unpredictable in this state, as you saw with the wings. That could happen again. He might even accidentally hurt one of you."

Dean flashed back to Cas's uncontrolled healing burst earlier and the exploded television.

The little angel tried to squirm out of his arms. "I don't want to hurt Sam and Dean."

Dean kept his grip firm. "It'll be fine, Cas."

Balthazar shifted, face pinched with chagrin. "As much as it pains me to admit this…he's safer with you two hairless apes than he would be anywhere else right now. If Raphael found out Castiel was like this…" He trailed off, mouth thinning into a tight line.

"Not to mention it could have been one of Cas's own soldiers who betrayed him," Sam put in quietly.

"That too," Balthazar muttered. With a sigh, he knelt down to look Cas in the eye. "Will you promise to stay with the Winchesters, Cas? This is important."

Cas nodded slowly. "Are you going to put me back together?"

Balthazar's normally smarmy facade cracked. "I'm going to do my best." He ran his hand down Cas's back, and Dean noticed that Balthazar had fixed the tears in Cas's shirt, almost like a silent promise that he would fix the rest of Cas too.

Cas reached out and placed a hand on the angel's arm, voice solemn and grave. "Be careful."

A cocky grin replaced the serious look on Balthazar's face. "I'm the original 007."

Cas quirked a confused brow, which made Dean chuckle. Some things never changed. He finally lifted Cas off his lap and pointed at the laptop on the bed. "Why don't you ask Sam to bring the cartoons back, okay?"

"Sam, can you bring the cartoons back?" Cas dutifully asked.

Sam cast his brother a questioning look, but nevertheless took Cas's attention while Dean stepped closer to Balthazar.

"You should head for Singer Salvage," the angel said. "I believe the old hunter has that placed warded like Fort Knox. Plus I'll know where to find you."

Dean nodded. "Alright."

"Don't summon me," Balthazar continued sharply. "I can't be torn away from tracking down the information we need."

"What about praying?"

Balthazar shook his head. "I'd rather not risk it; you never know who might be listening."

Dean arched a wry brow. "We could work out some kind of code."

"The fact that you'd pray to me at all would be a red flag to anyone," the angel retorted. He sighed. "Just, keep my brother safe."

"He's our brother too," Dean automatically responded, earning a slightly startled reaction from both of them. But it was true; Cas had become as much of a brother to Dean as Sam was. Yet it occurred to Dean that he hadn't been showing it much lately.

Balthazar looked away, maybe in preparation to leave, maybe because he was even less enthusiastic than Dean about this shared understanding.

"Um, before you go…" Dean cleared his throat. "Cas, uh, seemed pretty upset with his wings…" He let the unspoken question hang in the air, not even sure what exactly he was asking in the first place. But if there was a good chance they could manifest again, Dean wanted to be better able to deal with it.

Balthazar shrugged. "They're an odd mixture of what they look like now, and what they looked like…before. As you said, his mind is like a child's. I'm sure it's confusing."

Dean frowned. "Before what?"

Balthazar snorted. "Before Hell, dimwit. What, you thought laying siege to the Pit was a walk in the park?" The angel rolled his shoulders. "We all have scars from that mission, but Castiel's are more…extensive."

Dean's jaw went slack, and he couldn't seem to form a response. First off was trying to reconcile the news that Balthazar had been part of the siege to rescue him from Hell? Maybe that was why the angel so strongly disliked him. But Cas's wings were damaged? How? They hadn't looked hurt…but Cas had emphasized how they were the wrong color. White and gray and…black. Burned by hellfire? Dean suddenly felt nauseous.

"You can ask him about it when he's back to normal," Balthazar said snippily. "Though I honestly doubt he'll tell you." He paused, and then narrowed his gaze. "Don't bring it up now. He doesn't need to relive Hell like this."

Dean just nodded; remembering Hell was bad enough for anyone, let alone a kid. "We'll meet you at Bobby's," he said instead, and the angel took that as his cue to leave, vanishing in a soft swish of wing beats. Dean looked back at Cas and Sam on the bed, and waved to catch his brother's eye. "I gotta go get the car. Will you two be alright?"

Sam shot him a dry look. "We'll be fine, Dean. Might as well pick up some lunch on the way back while you're at it."

"It's gonna be burgers; fair warning."

Sam groaned. "They have salads too, Dean."

"I like burgers," Cas spoke up, then furrowed his brow and glanced between them. "Don't I?"

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but hesitated. Jimmy liked burgers, which had seeped over into Cas during the whole Famine incident, but that wasn't something he wanted to explain to the kid. "Of course you do. They're the prime choice for the standard American diet."

Sam snorted. "You do know what those initials spell, right?"

Dean waved him off impatiently, not caring, while Cas was squinting down at the floor as though trying way too hard to figure it out.

"S-A-D?" Cas guessed.

"Exactly," Sam replied. "Sad."

"Then why are they called 'happy meals'?" Dean retorted, and walked out the door before Sam could lob back a response.

Sam rolled his eyes at the ceiling after Dean had left. At least they were in a place where they could comfortably banter; they had a vague lead on how to help Cas, and just had to sit back and wait for Balthazar to come through. Okay, so Dean would probably rather be the one taking action himself, and so would Sam, but it was still something.

He turned his attention back to the cartoons, only to find Cas staring at him ruminatively.

"Why are they called 'happy meals'? Food can't have emotions."

Sam's lips quirked. "No, but they make kids smile. Of course, healthy fruits and vegetables can do that too." He didn't even know whether good nutrition was important for a growing fledgling or not, but he still didn't like the idea of Dean teaching the angel too many bad habits.

Cas accepted the explanation and went back to watching the laptop screen. Sam did too, though his mind wasn't really focusing on the slapstick comedy. Instead, he kept thinking of the sketch Cas had drawn and the hidden wings. There was no reason to bring it up…except Sam genuinely wanted to know what Cas was feeling when he made it. And Sam doubted he'd be able to get adult Cas to open up a fraction of the amount kid-Cas might.

Sam slid off the bed and went to retrieve the drawing from his bag. When he came back, he sat next to Cas again and waited for the kid to look away from the cartoons.

"I saw all your drawings, Cas," Sam began. "This one's my favorite."

Cas smiled at the piece of paper. "Sam and Dean Winchester save the world."

Sam felt a pang of guilt at the knowledge that they were also the ones who'd risked it by starting the Apocalypse, but he shoved it aside. He reached over to pause the cartoons before pointing to the top and the darkly shaded area. "And is this you?"

Cas pressed his lips together.

"I see wings," Sam prompted, and traced a finger down one curved plume. "I can't think of any other angel it might be."

Cas fidgeted. "You and Dean are warriors."

"Even warriors need a guardian angel. Probably more so," he smiled ruefully.

"I'm supposed to protect you," Cas said, then lowered his voice. "I want to protect you."

"So why are you hidden?"

Cas shrugged one shoulder. "Where else would I be?"

"Mhm, why not out in the open? Or standing next to us?"

Cas's brow pinched, and he studied the page for a long moment. "Because there's no room for me. You call when you need help, and then I leave." He reached out a tiny finger to brush a circle around the edges of the paper. "Like the coyote chasing the bird. Over and over and over again."

Sam's mouth turned down. Yeah, that was probably the heart of the problem distilled down to its simplest form: Dean was angry Cas had been incommunicado for a year, and then later come to find out he had raised Sam from Hell, but hadn't bothered to tell either of them, and just let them stew in suspicion and worry. After that, they hadn't exactly made Cas feel welcome. What if…without the Apocalypse as a uniting factor, Cas didn't feel like he belonged with the Winchesters anymore? Which made Sam angry because of course the angel was still their friend. Or did Cas not understand that?

"Do…do you not want to leave?" Sam asked gently.

Cas shrugged again. The kid's avoidance mode was becoming quite the telltale.

"If you want to stay, why don't you?" Sam figured if he could just get to the bottom of this, he could fix how the friendship between the three of them had drifted apart so horribly.

Cas looked at him sadly. "I don't fit."

Sam's brows rose sharply. "Don't fit where? With me and Dean? Of course you do!"

Cas frowned. "How?"

Sam was so taken aback by the sincerity of the question, he didn't know how to respond. So Cas felt, what, like he wasn't really wanted? Or self-conscious around Sam and Dean and didn't know what to do about it? No wonder they'd had so many misunderstandings lately.

"You know how you ate breakfast with us this morning?" Sam started, reminding himself that he had to phrase this in a way kid-Cas would understand. "And how you and Dean hung out at the park, and you and me were watching cartoons. And…talking, like we are now."

Cas nodded. "I liked all that."

Sam smiled. "Doesn't that feel like you fit?"

Cas seemed to consider the question, forehead creasing in thought.

"Listen, Cas," Sam continued. "You know why Dean and I were able to stand against Heaven and Hell?" He pointed at the drawing. "Because we're a team. The three of us are a team; we couldn't have done it without you."

Cas looked at the drawing and then smiled. "Thank you, Sam." Then he turned back to the laptop and hit the space bar to start the cartoons playing again. Kid was a quick study.

Sam just shook his head in amusement, feeling slightly better now that he'd gotten some insight into Cas's head. But he knew that little pep talk wasn't going to fix everything, and when Cas was back to his normal self, Sam was gonna make the effort to show Cas how much he truly was appreciated.

o.0.o

The demon cracked the back door of the ice-cream truck and peered out as one of the men from before sauntered up to the black Impala with a set of keys.

"I got him," he said to the bowl of simmering blood. "No sign of the fledgling, but it can't be far."

"Don't lose him," a raspy voice responded. "She's on her way up."

He dumped the bowl's contents down the sink to end the connection, and then cast one final look around the truck. So much for his plans to wreak havoc here, though this unexpected diversion did hold substantial promise.

With that, he tipped his head back and smoked out of the temporary meat suit.