The next time Castiel woke, it was from a nightmare. He found himself drenched in sweat, a sensation that was entirely new to him. He had not felt well before he tried to 'nap' and was feeling far worse now. Even atop his bedding, he was far too warm, and the t-shirt and light sweatpants felt as confining as a full winter outfit should be.

On top of that, his head was killing him. If this was a cold, he hated them. He had felt less bad in moments before he had actually died. Cas shut his eyes as white hot pain shot through his body, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. His stomach turned, and he fought to breathe through the attack and let it calm down again.

Cas looked at the cough drops, trying to determine if their medicine might give him any relief but he had neither a cough nor pain in his throat, so he figured he required some other type of medication. Dean would know.

The former angel tried to pull himself to his feet, but his motions were shaky, and the world tilted around him as he managed. His stomach rolled again, but it passed and Cas was able to slowly force his body towards the door. He frowned, walking down the hallway, gripping the wall to keep himself upright as he tried to find his way to Dean.

He tried Dean's room first, opening the door without knocking, but he found it empty. He frowned, trying to force his brain to think of where Dean might be. It was as if his thoughts had to claw through a thick pool to surface, and he twice forgot what he was trying to work out before he just managed to push his body into moving towards the library, hoping he could figure it out from there.

Dean was working through whiskey number two, flipping casually through a magazine of classic cars when he heard a rustling sound coming from the doorway. "Two AM Cas, that's not bad. How-" He stopped, looking up at the angel slumped against the door frame looking paler than Dean had ever seen.

"Dean…" Cas sounded unsure as he squinted at the hunter. "I think I need something…"

Dean stood, hurrying over. "Cas what-" He didn't manage to finish the sentence as Cas lost his fight and passed out, falling boneless towards the ground. Dean barely managed to reach him in time to prevent his head from cracking against the floor. Instead he was able to get the former angel to the ground in a barely controlled fall before kneeling beside him.

As Dean shook Cas, the first thing that became obvious was the burning heat. Cas had a fever, and it was no small one. When he pressed on Cas' shoulder he got a slight pained groan from the unconscious man. Dean pushed back the sleeve of the t-shirt, and took in the sight of the wound. Cas was right, it had mostly healed up. The nasty sharp and jagged wound the angel blade had left up there was maybe only an inch long and not too deep. However, it was bright red, swollen, and obviously spreading infection. "Damn it Cas."

This sudden turn of events had his senses working overdrive. Dean hesitated, taking the angel's pulse and frowning deeply. His breathing was fast, his pulse wasn't too strong. He scrambled up, grabbing Cas under the arms and pulling him along as quickly as he could towards the bunker's shower room.

This wasn't quite as extreme as a god-trial induced coma, so he figured he could make do without the bags of hotel ice to make a proper ice bath. That was for extreme measures, he didn't think putting Cas into shock was worth the payoff.

Dean instead dragged Cas into one of the shower stalls, holding his limp body half upright as he struggled to reach up and switch on the water. Not cold, but cool. He readjusted his grip, pulling Cas the rest of the way inside, and then gently settled him down. He let himself sit against the back wall of the shower, pulling Cas up to his chest in front of him, making sure his head stayed in a position where he wouldn't drown like a turkey in the rain.

Dean let himself catch his breath for a second, his heart pounding in his chest. He was soaking wet, his flannel shirt weighing down his limbs to feel like they had bricks tied to them. He held his arm protectively across Cas' chest, feeling his breathing, keeping careful count of the beats of his heart. He let Cas' head lean back almost on his shoulder, and he pressed his own head to the side of the angel's forehead, feeling the fever start to ever so slowly come back into being managed.

The silence that was interrupted only by the sound of the water was hell to Dean. Too much time to let worry and guilt battle for top position in his head. He had felt concern earlier, when Cas had said his shoulder was still injured. I should have pushed him to let me see it. He readjusted his grip, pushing Cas over to his other shoulder. He let his body relax slightly. The water pouring over himself and the angel was slowly making his body feel numb. He suddenly felt exhausted.

"Dean?" The voice was rough, and weak, but it was oriented.

Dean let out his breath. "Hey. You back?" He asked, voice a little louder to be heard over the water. He loosened his grip as Cas moved to lean forward, turning sideways to lean against the tiles himself and look at Dean.

"What happened?"

"Your damn shoulder is infected, you idiot." Dean snapped, feeling instantly guilty for taking out his concern on Cas. "You were burning up, passed out. Had to get the fever down."

Cas lifted his hand to shield his face from some of the water, the water washing down over his features. He used his other hand to push the flattened hair off his brow, but the movement from both his arms threw him off balance.

Dean caught Cas in his arms as he swayed, and eased him back against the tile, though he was taking a fair amount of his weight against himself again. "Woah, careful. The fever is down, not gone."

Cas closed his eyes, letting his hands fall to his sides, trusting Dean to hold him up. "I thought it was just a cold."

"Yeah buddy. You'll be relieved to know a cold is not quite as bad a feeling as a life threatening infection." Dean tightened his grip on Cas to keep him steady as he pushed himself up past him to switch off the water. He settled back against the wall, letting Cas keep his position.

"I'm sorry." Cas muttered, still not opening his eyes. He let his head slide sideways until it was resting, supported by Dean's shoulder.

Dean unconsciously rubbed his hand over Cas' upper arm in reassurance. "It's okay. We'll deal with this." He pulled the angel slightly closer to him, making sure he could fully prevent Cas from falling further.

He let the silence stretch until he felt Cas begin to tremble against him. He himself was starting to shiver and he finally was forced to move him. "Come on. Let's get out of these wet clothes."

"I finally remembered to wear the sweatpants." Cas said, his voice small.

Dean let a tired smile come across his face. "Yeah." He helped the other man stand, and helped support him as he moved back towards his room. Dean got him inside, leaving him to lean against the dresser. "Everything off, new boxers on. I'll be back in a minute." He instructed, leaving the angel to change while he found new clothes for himself.

Dean wasted no time shrugging off layers of soaked clothes, shoving them into a corner to deal with later. Donning his own sleepwear, he quickly headed out, walking swiftly towards the infirmary to grab supplies.

When he returned to Cas' room, the former angel was wrapped up tightly in his comforter on his bed.

Dean had to practically force Cas to lower the blanket enough to inspect the damaged shoulder. "This is going to hurt." He had to flush out the wound and treat it with antiseptic.

Cas reluctantly pulled his arm completely out of his warm blanket cocoon. Dean tried to be quick, ignoring the hiss of pain from Cas.

"You're going to need some antibiotics. And I'll give you something for the pain."

Dean moved back when he was done, inspecting his work one last time with a nod. He left for a moment, returning pulling a chair over next to the bed.

Cas tilted his head in question. "Dean?"

"You need rest. And with an infection this bad, I'm not leaving you unsupervised. That fever comes back, it could kill you."

"You should be the one resting." Cas' voice sounded strained.

"I'll sleep when I'm dead." He felt bad as Cas flinched at his words. He sighed, rolling his eyes. "I'm fine Cas. Now rest. That's an order."

Frowning, Cas tried to come up with a logical reason to resist Dean's instructions, but he came up empty. Giving in, he let himself curl up in the middle of his bed again, and before even five minutes had passed he was out cold.

Dean rubbed his hands over his face, letting himself settle back in the chair. He felt suddenly years older than he had before, the whole experience catching him off guard and draining him. He tried to find comfort in watching the angel sleep, knowing he was getting better. It had to be enough for now.

A cinematically misrepresentation of infection, but one I enjoyed writing.