Castiel didn't think he'd ever really get used to waking up. When you're an unsleeping angel, every time you regain consciousness, something terrible has happened to your vessel. It had only ever happened a handful of times. So the days since the fall represented fresh sudden panic each day.

This time as he woke however, he found himself having to claw to become fully conscious. His head felt as if someone had stuffed it full of cloth. There was a pain behind his eyes that ached deep inside his skull. Keeping his eyes shut, he began taking stock of his body. There was an uncomfortable sting in his shoulder and it still felt burning hot. Beyond that, his entire body just… hurt.

He pushed his awareness further, seeking to observe the world outside his body. He became aware of a sound, and he forced his eyes to open. He blinked, the half lit room still too bright for a moment until his eyes adjusted. He rolled his head to the side, seeking the source of the noise. His vision rested on the hunter, right in the chair where he had left him. Dean was slumped in the uncomfortable looking seat, the chair arm digging into his rib cage. He had his arms crossed, and his head leaned all the way to the side. His mouth was half open and Cas recognized that the sound he was hearing was Dean snoring loud enough to wake the dead.

Cas tried to adjust his position, letting out the smallest hiss in pain as the movement pulled at his shoulder. He was surprised that such a small noise woke the hunter, but Dean's eyes immediately opened and he righted himself, eyes focused on the angel. Cas supposed he shouldn't have been that surprised. Dean possessed the amazing ability to adjust his sleep level to suit the requirements of the night. If he felt safe, truly safe (as was so rare), Dean would sleep like the dead, and waking him was like pulling a man from a coma. On a normal night, Dean was more aware of his surroundings, ready to respond to potential dangers. And then there was the hair-pin level of rest he allowed himself if he was looking after a sick or injured Sam. Cas had to guess that Dean was treating this situation similarly.

Dean quickly took stock of Cas' condition before feeling some of the tension to work back out of his body. "Hey." He greeted softly, allowing himself a moment to stretch his cramped limbs out. He settled back on the edge of the chair. He directed his eyes back to Cas. "How are you feeling?"

Cas scrunched his own eyes shut for a second as he considered the answer to the question. "Embarrassed." He admitted. "Less physically distressed than when I found you."

"Good." Dean responded. "The feeling better, not the other-" he cut himself off, sighing. "You shouldn't feel embarrassed. You're new to this whole human thing."

"Still. I should have informed you of the sensations I felt, as I am unsure what is normal."

The hunter gave a weak laugh. "Well, let's do that from now on, at least for a bit."

"Yeah." Cas muttered softly.

Dean squeezed his good arm quickly in a show of support before he began to check the gauze to be sure the injury hadn't bled through the wrapping. Once he was satisfied with that he grabbed the thermometer off the table and pressed it to Cas' forehead, waiting for the telltale beep. "Well, that's a little better." He said with a nod, showing Cas the 101 degree reading.

"That's good?"

"It could be better, but yeah. Improvement for sure." He stood, walking to the dresser and grabbing a cloth bundle before he returned. He tossed the t-shirt to Cas.

The former angel shrugged into the dark material, grateful to be able to cover his bare chest with a layer of cloth. "I am sorry, you must have had such an uncomfortable rest." He gestured to the chair.

Dean rolled his eyes. "I've had worse."

"You didn't have to stay through the night-"

"You scared me Cas." Dean interjected, feeling a familiar guilt arise immediately at snapping at him yet again.

"Sorry." Cas repeated, even softer.

Dean put his hand on Cas' arm again, his grasp gentle but steady. "I'm glad you're okay. I just meant, I wasn't going to leave you alone."

Cas brought his gaze up to meet Dean's green eyes, surprised by the unhidden sincerity in his expression. He felt the grip on his arm leave, and watched Dean grab two bottles of pills he didn't notice earlier from his nightstand. He accepted and took the offered medications without question, gratefully accepting the water he was handed next.

"Anything I can get you?" Dean asked, satisfied once Cas had taken his antibiotics and painkillers.

Cas looked sheepish for a minute, but managed a small somewhat embarrassed smile. "I believe yesterday you mentioned soup being appropriate in these situations?"

The hunter gave a more genuine laugh and stood. "You got it." He gave one last glance over his shoulder on his way out of the room, seeing the angel settle back against the pillows.

Once in the kitchen, Dean let the facade fall away a little as he always did when he was alone. His shoulders slumped, and he took a moment to brace himself against the counter. He didn't want to admit just how much Cas had scared him. He knew he was overreacting a little. Not that a serious infection wasn't a big deal, and he knew he had made the right move in getting it lowered quick. But he probably could have safely let the angel sleep in peace without his bedside vigil.

But every time Dean let his mind wander for too long, he saw Cas tied to that grey chair in April's apartment. Dead. He had thought he had gotten over that. It wasn't like it was the first time Cas died. But that thought didn't really help his irrational mind accept the present. It just forced him to think back on all the times he thought Cas was gone. Smited by Raphael, blown apart by an angel banishing spell on his chest, snapped away by Lucifer, weakened by purgatory souls, ripped in half by leviathan… not to mention the long time he spent separated from Cas in purgatory, and then leaving Cas behind.

Dean managed an ironic smile as he reached into the cabinet and started to root around for a can of chicken noodle soup to heat up. If he thought about it hard, that death resume likely was only rivaled by his own. Though that fact certainly didn't make him feel any better.

He forced his head out of the loop it was stuck in. Cas was on the mend. It was time to move past it.

Dean assembled himself a sandwich and poured Cas a bowl of soup. He added a bottle of water, a bottle of beer, and after a moment of thought, two bags of chips. Everything was placed on a tray for easy transport. He made only one other stop in the library for his laptop.

Cas sat up when the hunter walked back into the room.

Dean placed the tray on the end of the bed. "Scoot over." He demanded, shoving the pile of blankets flat and slipping on the bed next to Cas, leaning back casually against the headboard. He handed Cas the tray, reaching forward to open the laptop and resume the movie where they had left off the day before.

Dean relaxed for now, letting himself just enjoy good food and decent company.