A/N: To AegisKitten – since I cannot reply directly to you, you get an author's note. I have answers to all your questions, but they aren't specifically answered in this story. If you would like, please feel free to send me a PM and I'll fill you in.

And to anyone else who has questions about this 'verse, please don't be shy about asking. If it's to be answered later in the story, I'll let you know. If it isn't, you'll get a straight answer. :)

To mandic84 and Haley - thank you!

Not-so-random side note: I'm also building a FAQ page, that I'm thinking of attaching at the end as a sort of appendix to the story. Every question that comes my way, I'm trying to make sure it gets addressed in the FAQ.

March 25-26, 1992

They spent the rest of the day outside, which Castiel preferred to the close confines of the trailer or shed. He could stretch his wings outside, which he did cautiously to avoid tearing his stitches. Dean told him the stitches could come out soon. Castiel's elation at the news cooled a bit as he realized that once they were removed, there would no longer be a reason to stay. He pushed the thoughts aside, instead enjoying the company of the human brothers until it was time for their father to return from work.

Relegated to the shed for the evening, Castiel started another of the books Sam had brought him – this one about a mouse with a sick son and a group of extraordinary rats.

Suddenly, he dropped the half-finished book and sat bolt upright. Something had happened. Dean was in pain and both he and his brother were afraid. Castiel shot to his feet, his wings shivering with the effort it took to refrain from flying directly to Dean, never mind his father and Castiel's stitches. But Dean had been clear. His father could not find out about Castiel.

Instead he waited, pacing the small interior of the shed until he was ready to tear the carefully trimmed hair straight out of his scalp. He itched with the need to go. To help. But he could do nothing but wait.

And wait.

After what seemed like forever, Castiel heard the distinctive roar of their father's vehicle as he started it up and tore out of the driveway, gravel spitting from under the tires. Before it even registered that the sound meant he could go inside, the door to the shed flew open and Sam was there, the marks of tears still on his cheeks and smears of blood on his hands and shirt.

"Please, Castiel, Dean needs help. He's being a jerk and won't come out to ask you. Please!"

Castiel was already moving before Sam finished speaking. They dashed back to the trailer, bursting through the front door. They found Dean in the bathroom, blood all down one side of his face and one arm tucked tightly against his side. He was trying to stem the flow of blood from a gash on his forehead, but wasn't very successful with only the one hand to work with.

He looked up as Castiel and Sam crowded into the doorway of the bathroom. "Dammit, Sammy! What did I say?"

"I don't care, Dean! You need to let him heal you," Sam retorted, scowling fiercely.

Without waiting for permission, Castiel gripped Dean's face firmly and healed the cut, the dislocated shoulder, and all the imminent bruising and swelling.

Dean jerked away, snapping, "I'm fine! Leave it!" He realized it was too late, though, and rolled his shoulder cautiously. He glared at Sam, then Castiel. "I didn't need your help! Leave me alone!"

Pushing past both of them, Dean disappeared into his room, slamming the sliding door as hard as he could, then closing it again after it bounced back open.

Castiel stood, stunned. He looked to Sam, who was red-faced and furious. Sam whipped around and stormed out the trailer's back door, closing it with a much more effective slam than Dean's.

Since Sam had been the one to come to him, that's who Castiel followed. He closed the door softly behind him and sat beside the boy on the back step. The cool evening air made him shiver, so he drew his wings in, fluffing the feathers to keep himself warm.

"Sam? What was that?"

Sam wiped angrily at the tears spilling down his cheeks. "Dean's a jerk."

"But what happened? I felt..." Castiel shook his head. "What happened?"

"Dad happened. Just like always," Sam answered. "Dad noticed someone had been in his stuff and found his knife missing. He yelled at Dean, shoved him around. Just like always."

Hot sickness rose in Castiel's stomach as his hand drifted to the knife strapped to the belt that Dean had also given him. Dean was hurt again because he was protecting Castiel.

"He told me not to get you. He didn't want to get healed – said he had it coming. Said he took the knife, so he should take the punishment." Fresh tears spilled over and Sam's face crumpled as a sob pushed its way out.

Castiel didn't know what to do, but had to do something. He opened his wing enough to put an arm around Sam and draw him close to his side, letting his wing wrap around him like a blanket.

It was either the right thing to do or a very wrong thing. Sam turned his face into Castiel's shoulder and sobbed. His arms snaked under Castiel's feathers to lock around his ribs as messy tears and other secretions smeared from Sam's face to Castiel's skin. He cried out what Castiel guessed was years of pain until the heaving sobs slowly settled down into jerky sniffles.

"Oh, crap," Sam said thickly as he eased himself out of Castiel's embrace and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "I'm sorry – I got snot all over you."

Castiel let Sam pull away, but left his wing hovering around him protectively. "It's all right. I'm washable."

A short burst of laughter left Sam smiling, even if it was a little soggy around the edges.

"Sam? Should I go talk to Dean?"

After a thoughtful pause, Sam shook his head. "Not now. He'll cool off. It's better to leave it until tomorrow."

Castiel sighed. "If you think that's best."

As they sat in the darkness, the horrible feeling in Castiel's stomach got worse. What if Dean stayed angry? He had every right to be mad, since he was only hurt because of Castiel, and Castiel feared Dean would stop wanting him around because of it.

Eventually Sam went inside, and Castiel returned to the shed alone, but couldn't read or sleep or do anything but worry about Dean.

What if Dean never wanted to see him again?

Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIHM is by Robert C. O'Brien