Well everyone, this is the final chapter! Thanks so much to everyone who has followed and faved and reviewed this story you are all awesome and I always appreciate hearing what you have to say I'm very glad you've seemed to enjoy it ^_^ I hope you like the conclusion, and again, if you didn't get to read the prequel one-shot "When you Wake" this chapter kind of references it again a bit so if you want to see my version of how Cas got Dean out of hell, go check it out.

Chapter Eight

Thankfully, Castiel was able to see to the mess before the hospital staff found out about it, putting a concealment on the burns so they would ignore them. Sam was frantic to find out that Dean had almost been killed while he was eating, and it took his older brother's tired assurances to calm him down.

Dean at least seemed to have been jarred back into some semblance of normal by the occurrence. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was just acceptance, but he was quickly on the road to recovery, almost too quickly for his brother's liking. Sam had a feeling Dean was just doing what he normally did—suppress and ignore his problems until they culminated into a messy explosion. But there wasn't much he could do either. In a perfect world, Dean would admit that he had problems and they would work them out together, but that was never going to happen.

Two days later, Sam came up to his room after grabbing breakfast and coffee, to find him dressing himself in a pair of clean clothes he had found in the duffle Sam had brought into the room.

"Woah, Dean, where are you going?" Sam asked, hurrying over to his brother who was struggling to lift his arms enough to slip a t-shirt on. The younger man winced as he saw the strain it was putting on the deep lacerations on Dean's stomach and chest.

"Getting out of here," Dean told him in no uncertain terms. "I sure as hell ain't staying here any longer. I'm not dying, and even if I'm probably not hunting for at least another week, I can rest my wounds at Bobby's better without someone coming in and poking at me every half hour."

Sam set his mouth in a thin line, still unable to get the sight of his brother's broken body strapped to that table out of his head. "You lost a lot of blood."

"Which they replaced," Dean said matter-of-factly, grunting as he fought his arms into the t-shirt sleeves.

Sam finally decided to help him, knowing he wasn't going to succeed in stopping him. He helped Dean slip the shirt onto his arms and then eased it over his head.

"Look, man," Dean told him with a sigh, already so exhausted from putting clothes on that he had to sit on the edge of the bed. "None of this is going to get any better. You heard Cas, this is a crappy situation that I apparently don't have any say in. Not that I'm throwing in the towel yet, there's always some way to get around things in our experience. All I'm saying it, I just need to keep going, because I sure as hell am not going to sit around and feel sorry for myself."

Sam shook his head. "Yeah, I agree with that, but Dean, I need you to be honest with me: are you okay? I mean, the first seal aside, this thing with Alastair, I know it messed with your head. And not to be indelicate, but he tore you up; I know we get beat up on hunts, Dean, but torture like that? That wears on someone. It's not the same as getting injured on the job."

Dean looked up at him, resting his bandaged arms on his thighs. "You want the truth, Sammy? I'm as far from all right as it's possible to be. I mean, I started the apocalypse; I broke the damn world. That's not really something you can put a Band-Aid on, is it?"

"Dean," Sam said quietly, shaking his head.

"It's okay, I did it, I'll deal with it. You break, you buy, I know that," Dean told him. "And yeah, Alastair did a number on me, got into my head, but I'm not going to let that destroy me. You killed him; I don't have to worry about him anymore. The angel who was gunning for me is dead too. I call that a win. To be honest, I haven't been okay since I got back from hell anyway, so why should this bother me?"

Sam didn't know what to say. Sure, Dean wasn't catatonic and sobbing uncharacteristicly like he had when they found him, but he knew from experience that this, this devil-may-care suppression crap, was worse. He also knew that it was pointless to dig into it. In this case, with this new Dean, Sam was afraid he might push a button that could cause him to have some psychotic break. Maybe Dean wasn't that broken, at least Sam fervently hoped not, but he wasn't going to take the chance either. He knew from experience that Dean would talk about his feelings when he was good and ready and trying to do so before was only going to make him clam up. At least he was functioning.

Sam sighed and nodded. "Okay then, I guess I'll go get the nurse to sign your release papers." He was about to leave when he turned back around, reaching inside his collar. "Oh, by the way, I forgot to give this back to you." He pulled the amulet from around his neck and dropped it into Dean's hand.

Dean looked at it for a long moment, before he nodded, meeting Sam's eyes as he looped it over his head, his hand clutched around it as it rested against his chest. "Thanks Sammy."

Sam nodded then turned quickly before the prickling that had cropped up in his eyes at Dean's expression turned into more, and hurried from the room.

As soon as his little brother left the room, Dean slumped, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. No, he was anything but okay, but he wasn't going to admit that. Not to Sam and especially not to himself. Because if he admitted how broken he really was he knew he would never have the strength to get up in the morning and he didn't get that luxury. Not while he had a world to save. Not while Sammy still breathed. This had all started because of Dean, and he wasn't going to let it ruin his brother too. It was his fault, and he would pay the price himself because that was what he did and that was what he would continue to do until there was no longer breath in his body, and he didn't get to whine about it.

He sighed deeply and stood, forcing his aching body upright as he packed his bag up again, waiting for Sam to get back. As he was going through the bag, he found his flask and quickly opened it, swallowing half the contents in one go. He closed his eyes and let the alcohol burn its way through his system. He put the flask away and looked down at his hand, shaking and unsteady and clenched it until he forced it to be still.

Because he wasn't okay. At all. Hell, Alastair, the task ahead of him; he knew if he thought about it too much he wouldn't be functioning at all. Of course that didn't help the nightmares any. He didn't know what he was going to do, but he knew he had to beat it someway. Because in truth, he knew he couldn't stay in the hospital any longer, because if he did, he was afraid he would never leave.

Several days later Dean was out working on the Impala in Bobby's yard, having had enough of being cooped up inside. His injuries still hurt and he wasn't sleeping, but this was all the therapy he needed. That and the bottle of whisky that was resting inside his toolbox. Thinking about it, he set his wrench aside, and wiped his hands on a greasy rag before taking up the bottle and taking a burning swig of it. His hand shook slightly as he put it down and he wiped his brow, taking a deep breath.

He couldn't get Alastair out of his head, not to mention thoughts of the impossible task ahead of him. He didn't like being in the spotlight, he didn't like being noticed at all. In his line of work, it was best to stay low key, but he liked the anonymity, it made it easier. And now what? He was being chosen by God to stop the apocalypse? No one could blame him for being unable to wrap his head around that. Why him? He wasn't righteous, he was broken, and on top of it all, he was scared as hell. He knew he didn't have the edge he used to, not since he had come back from the pit. And what was worse, he knew that Sam saw it too. The way he looked at him with something that was somewhere between sadness and pity and pain made Dean feel sick because he knew he wasn't all right, and if he wasn't all right, and Sam saw it, how was he supposed to keep anything from happening to his brother? Because if he was fighting someone else's war, where did Sam fit into it? He didn't trust the angels at all; he at least had enough instinct left to know that, not after what had happened with Uriel. If one had turned and had followers who wanted the apocalypse, how many others were there who wanted the same thing? Ones who were willing to do more than simply kill Dean; they might try to use Sam as leverage, and if that happened, they could kiss their righteous man goodbye, because Dean wasn't going to get in with any of them then. He would take Sam away and hole up until the whole world ended for all he cared, but he wasn't going to let them take away his family. Especially not after everything they had already been through just to get to this point.

The thought of everything that was expected of him made the flutter of panic rise inside his chest. This was new too, he had never been scared like he had after hell and it wasn't pleasant, but there was nothing he could do about it. The lack of control, over his own body too, made him angry. He was done with this. He threw the wrench he was using back into the toolbox and then slung the whole thing along with the bottle of whisky to one side, ignoring the pain that ripped through his body at the sudden movement as he turned to lean against the bumper of the Impala, breathing heavily.

"Dean."

He spun around with a bit off shout, seeing Castiel standing there, in his usual rumpled state, his typical blank look holding just a tiny frown of concern.

"Damn it Cas," he grumbled, trying to hide the fact that he was shaking. "Give a guy some warning."

Cas bobbed his head apologetically. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"What are you doing here?" Dean demanded. "Did you come to take me away on another mission? Maybe act as torturer for you again?" He knew it was harsh, especially after Sam explained to him how Cas had pretty much defied orders to go look for him when he had been taken by Alastair, but he was still bitter, and his body ached, and he had even more nightmares than before, so he felt inclined to a little surliness at least. However, he instantly felt bad when he saw the pained look enter the angel's face. This was new, this slight show of emotions that Cas was beginning to allow.

"I will never forgive myself for what happened with Alastair and Uriel, Dean," he said. "But you have to understand that I am expected to obey my orders so things can run smoothly. There is so much rebellion right now with angels defecting to Lucifer's side, that we cannot afford disobedience."

Dean lowered himself to sit down on the Impala's hood. "I get it, really I do. I always followed my dad's orders, sometimes maybe when I should have used my better judgment. But Sam explained to me later that that wasn't always the best thing to do, and sometimes you have to break a few rules. It doesn't mean you respect the person giving them any less, it just means that sometimes people can't always see what the right thing to do is, and someone else has to step in and decide that for them."

Castiel gave a small wry smile. "We do not all have that luxury, Dean, but I do think I understand what you are talking about now. And, against my better judgment, I have begun to see why Anna left in the first place."

Dean looked up at the angel then, and fully appreciated what he had been through in the past week, the decisions he had to make in order to make sure Dean was safe. Sure, it was mostly because he was useful to him and the war that was coming, but Dean also felt an inexplicable trust toward the angel, and he didn't think that was without cause. He cleared his throat, slightly self-conscious about what he had to say next, but figuring it would be something Sam would say. "By the way, I'm sorry about what happened with Uriel. I mean, sure, the dude was a dick, but he was your brother in arms, and I know how hard it is to have someone turn on you like that." Okay maybe he had to work on being a little more eloquent with his empathy, but it was a start.

Castiel nodded with a small sigh. "I should have seen it coming, truthfully. I will not allow myself to be so blinded again. Now that I know these betrayals are happening, I will be more cautious in who I trust."

"I guess no one is really who they say they are," Dean commented.

Castiel looked straight at him then with that dorky head-tilt. "You are, Dean."

The hunter snorted at that but Castiel continued. "You are perhaps one of the most honest men I have come across. You know who you are and what you want, even after everything that has happened to you. You may pretend otherwise, but there is a reason you were the righteous man."

"Yeah, about that," Dean said. "I still don't get why you saved me. I just don't buy the part about me being the only one to stop the apocalypse."

Castiel gave him an odd look as if he was trying to remember something from long ago that wasn't quite there anymore. He shook his head slightly before he replied. "I think myself, and some others simply saw that you were worth saving."

"I broke, Cas!" Dean shouted suddenly, surging to his feet and taking a step toward the angel. He was still furious at himself, disgusted. He hadn't coped with it before and spending several days being taunted by Alastair had just brought everything back full force. "I got off the rack, and I took his blade and started carving souls apart. And the thing was, Cas, it was easy. It was easy to give back the pain I had suffered, it made me forget all the other crap I had to deal with. So how is that in any way good or righteous?"

Castiel shook his head. "But you were miserable, Dean. You may have tricked yourself into thinking it was easy, but you didn't really believe that. Otherwise, why would it bother you so much now?"

"How can you be sure?"

Castiel opened his mouth, but hesitated, then finally said. "I just know that isn't you, Dean."

Dean looked at him for a while, then voiced something that he had been wondering, something he had been wracking his brain about. "Do you remember rescuing me? Because I don't remember a damn thing. I remember everything else but not that. How come I don't remember that?"

Castiel shifted slightly, frowning again. "It's a blur, but I remember finding you and taking you out. But you were probably not meant to remember."

Dean shrugged, siting back down on the hood of the Impala, wincing as several of his wounds pulled again. He was trying to remember anything he could, but the only thing that happened was a small tingling feeling over the scar Cas had left on his shoulder. He refrained from touching it but again felt safe with Cas, protected. Those were the words that ran through his head. Odd after everything that had happened, but Cas seemed different now, not as stiff, not as hard. Maybe going after him in hell had done something to him too. But still, Dean wasn't inclined to trust without proof, and he looked up to meet the angel's gaze.

"I need to know something Cas, and I want you to be truthful with me," he said.

"Of course, Dean," the angel replied.

"You're at my back on this whole thing, aren't you?" the hunter asked. "I mean, I can trust you, right?"

"Of course, Dean," there was almost a little hurt in Castiel's voice as his brow furrowed. "You are my charge, and I have always looked after you. That is, first and foremost, my job."

Dean felt a little better at hearing that. "I need you to promise me something then," he said. "If things go to crap, and they probably will before this is all over, can you make sure, no matter what happens to me, that Sammy is taken care of? I don't like the way the angels look at him, but… you don't look at him like that, and I think I can trust you, but I need to make sure he's gonna be okay if I don't make it out of this. No one's getting my help otherwise."

Castiel gave him what could only be described as a fond look before he turned serious again. "I will make sure Sam is safe, Dean."

"Thanks, Cas," Dean said, feeling slightly relieved. He turned to pick up the tools he had thrown and the bottle of whisky, looking at it for a long moment before he set it aside again, swallowing hard. It didn't really work anyway. His problems were far beyond drinking away.

"Dean," Castiel asked softly and the hunter turned back around to look at him. "You really don't remember anything about getting out of hell?"

Dean shook his head. "No."

"Oh," Castiel looked down.

"Why, should I?"

"No," the angel shook himself. "I was just wondering, because I feel like I should remember it, but I only remember the fight in and the fight out. It's just that Alastair seemed upset at me like we had met down there, and I couldn't remember it with any clarity."

"Hell does weird things to your head," Dean told him. "I'm sure you had other things on your mind."

Castiel nodded. "I suppose it's not entirely important anyway. How are you feeling by the way, Dean?"

Dean looked down for a minute before fixing his typical smile on his face. "Just peachy, Cas."

The angel frowned, but chose to ignore him as he realized that is what Dean wanted. "Rest up while you can. I think you will be needed before long. But remember, Dean, you can trust me."

Dean nodded slightly. "Yeah, I guess I can. Um, I know I didn't say it before, but thanks for helping Sam get me out. I'm afraid he would have been killed without you."

"As you said, we're even," Castiel replied with a small smile. "I must go now, I have some duties to see to."

"Yeah, of course," Dean said, and the angel disappeared in a flap of wings. Dean sat there for another long minute, and finally picked up the bottle of whisky again, taking a long swing of it. It was going to take a lot more before he was able to think about the task ahead.

And that's it. Thanks again so much! I have a few more things in the works that you might see within the next couple weeks. In the meantime, I had really wanted to do some Christmas stories but really have no real ideas so I thought that instead I would do a series of request one-shots, so if you guys have any Christmas story ideas involving our boys please let me know! Anything goes (though no slash as always) just try to keep the plots from being too elaborate, please I'm going to try to keep them 3,000 words tops so I'll have time to write all the requests. But please either PM me or leave a request in the comments :)