March 21-22, 1992

Dean watched Castiel's rigid posture slowly ease after he reassured him he couldn't be an angel. The feathers of his wings went from upset-ruffled back to normal-ruffled, the ragged spikes smoothing out as Castiel's shoulders relaxed.

"Hey. I'm gonna head back in. Let you get some sleep, all right?"

Castiel's eyes shone huge in the darkness. He nodded.

As Dean turned to go, he added, "Don't forget to take another pill in the morning. I'll come as soon as I can tomorrow to check your stitches."

Figuring the best thing he could do for the guy was leave him alone to think, Dean left the shed and walked back to the house. He was careful to keep quiet going back in, since the trailer had paper thin walls and a creaky door, but Dad was passed out in his recliner in the living room, snoring thickly at the back of his throat. Dean picked up the empty cans scattered around the chair and moved them to the kitchen before heading for Sam's room.

Sammy was on his bed propped up against the wall with his pillow behind him, reading some book with a picture of a pig and a spider on the front. He looked up as Dean slid the door shut behind him. "How is he?" Sam whispered.

Dean dropped to sit on the end of Sam's bed with a bounce. "Cut looks way better. I think he'll be fine once it heals up. But Sammy, get this – he didn't know he had a halo."

Sam's face scrunched up in confusion. "How could he not know that?"

"Beats me, but he kinda freaked out about it. He wouldn't tell me how he got hurt, either." He looked up at his brother with a wry face. "I don't think he'd stay here if he didn't have to."

It kind of hurt Dean's feelings that Castiel didn't trust him enough to talk to him. Them. But he'd never admit it aloud.

"I'm going to bed. Gonna get up early and check on him again before Dad wakes up." He stood and ruffled Sam's too-long hair.

Sam slapped his hand away with a sour look. "Cut it out!"

"Whatever, midget. G'night."

"Night."

Dean brushed his teeth and got ready for bed, but when he finally crawled under the covers, he couldn't sleep. There were too many thoughts and worries swirling around his noggin. Even though Castiel had always denied it, Dean had been convinced he was an angel, despite the demon-y wings. It was a lot to absorb.

His injury seemed to be doing better at least, but Dean really had no clue – he was just doing the best he could since there wasn't anyone else to help. He huffed in frustration. He wanted Castiel to heal but was afraid he'd leave the second his wing would let him, and Dean really didn't want him to go.

He wished he knew why Castiel didn't seem to like him. Dean had a few friends from school, but no one particularly close. How could he have close friends when he was embarrassed for anyone to see his home life? He had Sam, of course, but that was different – he was just a kid. Plus Sam was his brother. He had to like Dean.

Rolling over and punching his pillow back to fluffiness, Dean decided he didn't care. It wasn't like he was lonely or anything. If Castiel didn't like him, that was fine.

He didn't care.

Early the next morning before his dad woke up, Dean ran out to the shed. Pushing open the door, he was relieved to see that the not-angel was still there, asleep in his nest. He looked so small curled up like that, even with the giant wings. The clearest memory Dean had of the first time he'd seen Castiel was how he looked just before he flew away after pulling him from that pond. Standing over him with his wings spread, he'd been so intimidating. Now he just looked vulnerable.

Crouching down next to the bundle of blankets, Dean reached out to nudge a foot. "Castiel?"

Castiel's feet jerked back as he startled awake, scrambling to sit up. When his eyes settled on Dean, he calmed immediately. "Dean."

"Hey. Just a quick check in to see how you're feeling."

Rolling his shoulders and cautiously stretching his bandaged wing, Castiel nodded. "Better."

Dean waited, but no details followed. "Okay, then. Since it feels okay, I won't re-bandage until this evening. My dad usually goes out, so you should be able to come inside for a while. It must kinda suck being stuck out here by yourself."

With a nearly non-existent shrug, Castiel said softly, "I'm always by myself."

"Oh." Dean didn't know what he expected, but the idea of Castiel living his whole life without anyone else at all made him feel terrible. Maybe it was the same protective instincts he had for Sam, but he just wanted to tuck Castiel into bed and make him soup or hot chocolate. Of course, he didn't eat so...

"Um," he continued after an awkward silence, "well, tonight you can come hang out with us. We can get you cleaned up and watch TV or something. If you want."

A strange expression crossed Castiel's face, something subtle and impossible to define. He looked hard at Dean for a few moments – maybe waiting for a punchline or something – then he nodded. "Okay."

"Great!" Dean grinned happily. "I'll come get you when it's all clear, okay? Meanwhile, don't forget to take your antibiotic."

In answer, Castiel reached for the bag that held the pills and water bottle.

Dean stood to leave, but Castiel spoke up before he got far. "Dean? Thank you." His gaze shifted nervously, but then he looked up to meet Dean's eyes directly. "For helping me."

Grinning, Dean replied, "You're welcome. You can always come to me if you need something."

A faint smile graced Castiel's lips, and it was the best thing Dean had seen all week. He left the shed, heading back to the house with a lightness in his step he hadn't felt in a long time.