Disclaimer: I don't own SPN.

I'm actually really loving this series – it's so cathartic to just dump all my crap on Cas, then help him out like he deserves. Granted, I've had to amplify everything because Cas is way worse off than me but…meh. It's free therapy, so how can I complain?

And Cas isn't weak, nor is he a cry baby. Yes, he seems to be crying in everything I write in this series, but it sucks being depressed and not knowing how to vent or control your body and mind or even how to properly feel – and he's not going to magically get over it all. It takes time. I just worry that I'm writing him as a weak baby who can't stop crying but that isn't my intention at all. He does have good days, and days where he's just happy all around – I just haven't written about them.

Castiel is having a bad day.

Not a bad day in regards to nothing going right for him, but a bad day in that he had woken up feeling strangely empty – which had been temporarily fixed by Dean and his presence and kisses – and he hasn't felt right all morning, ever since Dean's departure. He's always wondered just what the difference between a bad day and a bad day is (this difference being emphasised by Dean, but not actually expanded upon) and now he understands that the difference is external vs internal; a bad day is caused by external factors, while a bad day is simply due to one's body and mind deciding that it would be far easier to not even be alive.

It's not that he wants to die. It's just that sometimes he doesn't want to exist. There's a difference, he's sure – he just hasn't found a way to explain it yet.

"Morning, angel," Dean murmurs when Castiel's eyes open, blinking away the foggy sleep. He leans in to kiss Castiel, who can't help but be grateful once again that they had reached a mutual decision not to sleep in shirts. It makes every touch between them so much more potent; almost as if electricity is flowing between them.

Castiel marvels at the change he has undergone. Ever since falling and becoming human, he's begun to understand a lot of the metaphors and hyperboles that humans use in order to express their feelings. His pre-fall self would have simply stared in confusion at the phrase 'electricity flowing between them' and then started to list all of the ways that this is impossible.

"Good morning, Dean," Castiel replies, raising a hand to cup Dean's face. Dean hums approvingly as they kiss again and, his muscles bulging pleasantly underneath Castiel, hauls the angel on top of him and deepens the kiss, wrapping his arms around Castiel's waist. Castiel smiles a small, gummy grin at him.

"You're very affectionate," he notes when Dean begins to trail kisses down his throat. He lets out a soft, content sigh and tips his head back to give Dean better access.

"Why? That a bad thing?" Dean says, working the skin above Castiel's pulse point between his teeth. Castiel groans softly, his eyes fluttering closed.

"N-No. I was merely making an observation."

He falls silent after that, revelling in the heat that flows through him from the patch of skin that Dean is currently sucking a dark bruise into (a hickey, Castiel believes they are called). Castiel is unusually fond of hickeys – maybe because they mark him as Dean's, announcing to the world that he is only available to Dean, and vice versa – and he often finds himself blocking his grace from being able to heal these marks on his skin, and even extending their longevity.

It's nice to feel like he belongs to somebody without a power play or any semblance of ownership being involved.

"Your mouth," Castiel groans, his breath hitching when Dean kisses down his throat and then begins to suck another hickey above his clavicle. He wants to kiss Dean until the man can't breathe but he also wants Dean to continue branding him and so, his head swimming with these conflicting desires, he compromises by burying his nose in Dean's soft, spiky hair and pressing kisses there while Dean keeps nipping at his collar.

But at the same time, he's dubious. Yes, Dean is affectionate in the morning, but this morning he's almost suspiciously so. It's almost as though he's trying to make up for something.

"Dean?" Castiel gasps when Dean begins to trail kisses down his chest. "Dean, I – there's something – what's going on?"

He's annoyed when Dean pauses his kisses and he actually whines when Dean sighs and tips his head back into the pillow.

"Got a case nearby," he says. "'S only three or four hours away but Mom's itching to get back into hunting. Says she's outta practice. So Sam and I are goin' with her."

Castiel's heart sinks. He'd known that this had been too good to be true; that there had to be a price for the amount of affection being heaped on him this morning. Dean's just giving him an 'advancement', or giving him all of the kisses owed in one sitting. He's gotten used to being able to seek out Dean whenever he wants and give him as many kisses as he likes; the word 'spoiled' comes to mind.

"Hey, don't," Dean says when a tear falls onto his chest. When had Castiel gotten so weak? When had he turned into such a weak-willed, useless pile of flesh? He had been a warrior of God! And now he can't even control his own tear ducts and emotions! "Fuck – don't cry, Cas. We'll be back before you know it."

"I – I apologise," Castiel chokes, hiding his face in the crook of Dean's neck. Dean's scent always does a remarkable job of calming him down, keeping him grounded – he suspects it's because it had been the one trait that Lucifer had not been able to replicate successfully, due to its intriguing complexity. "I'm just weak, Dean."

"No, dude, you're not. You're just a little banged up. Sammy was like this too when he got his soul back. Granted, he was worse 'cause of the hallucinations, but his emotions were all over the place too. Lucifer does that to ya."

"I'm sorry," Castiel insists. "All I've done is use you for my own emotional comfort. Not once have I ever stopped to see if you're okay after your ordeals with Amara."

Dean snorts.

"Dude, I'm fine. Better than you, anyway. And she might've mind-whammied me but nowhere near as bad as what you went through. At least she only made me space out and want her. She didn't freaking torture me."

Castiel twitches at the reminder of how Lucifer has broken him.

"Fuck. Sorry."

"Don't apologise."

Dean takes a deep breath. Castiel braces himself, sensing that he isn't going to like his lover's next words.

"I…actually, in a way, this might be good?" Dean says carefully. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I love being around you all the time. I love you. But I think you gotta learn how to cope without me around. Of course I freaking want you around!" he says quickly when Cas draws in a deep, shuddering breath to apologise for being a burden. "You're not a burden or anything! But what if we ever get separated and you can't cope? I think it'd be good for your mind as well, being able to hold your own."

Castiel's struggling not to cry, mentally berating himself for being so weak. This right here is why he can no longer be considered a proper angel. He's weak, he's needy, he's selfish, he just takes what he wants –

"Hey. Cas, it's okay."

A hand begins to stroke his back. Castiel shivers and leans into the touch.

"This is why it's a good idea. I think it'd be good for your mind, to prove to yourself that you don't need me around. Can't imagine why you would but –"

"Don't start belittling yourself, Dean," Castiel says with a weak, watery laugh. "You are literally the reason I haven't gone insane yet."

"And that's the problem," Dean counters. "Don't get me wrong, I love being here for you and kissing you and comforting you and all of that. But I don't want you to go all Bella Swan on me."

"I don't understand that reference."

"I don't want you to get so attached to me that you can't function when I'm not around. I shouldn't be the reason for you getting better. Sure, I can help, but it's gotta be you. Somethin' I've learned over the years."

Dean laughs darkly.

"Just like…Sam and I were able to be there for you after Hell, but your recovery largely fell on your shoulders?" Castiel says slowly. Dean nods and kisses him.

"Exactly."

"But Dean…I don't want to be alone." His voice comes out as a whisper. "Please don't leave me alone. Lucifer…my mind…"

Dean frowns in thought for a moment.

"I'll ask Sam to stay behind with ya," he decides after a moment. "You don't have to have a big, mushy chick flick moment with him if you don't want but if it'll help –"

"Yes, Dean. It will help a lot," Castiel says quickly. He'd much rather prefer Dean to stay with him and Sam to go hunting with Mary but Dean's point about codependency is a good one. He doesn't want to grow too dependent on Dean, to the point that he literally needs the man to stay sane. And he doesn't want to burden his lover any more than he already has.

"Good." Dean gives Castiel another kiss. "Besides, it might be good to talk to Sam. He's way better at this chick flick stuff than me."

"But I like talking to you."

"And I like talking to you. But sometimes I like talking to Sam – about totally non-girly stuff, of course. No way am I gonna let him win and go full on Deanna with him."

Castiel doesn't understand the stigma around men revealing their feelings being feminine or bad but he does understand Dean's point.

"I understand."

"Good. New perspective and all that crap. Though lemme tell you, it's hilarious how Sam's all quick to get people to 'open up about their feelings' but getting anything out of him is like gettin' blood outta a stone."

"It's physically impossible to get blood out of a stone unless you enchant it."

Dean gives him a look and Castiel suddenly understands the comparison.

"You need anythin', you call," Dean says, stroking his fingers through Castiel's hair. "Even if you just wanna talk. And if you're seriously gonna lose your mind, I'll come right back. You got that?"

Not trusting himself with words, Castiel just nods.

"Now, how about I give you all the kisses I'm gonna owe ya?"

Dean and Mary's departure is quick, which Castiel supposes he's grateful for. There's no time to be weak and lose control of himself when he simply hugs Mary, shares a deep kiss with Dean and then they're gone, and he suspects that Dean also knows this. Gratitude for the man wells up inside him.

Once the sound of the Impala fades, the emptiness that Castiel had woken up with begins to creep back in. Dean is right; it's alarming how dependent he's grown on the man and his ability to keep Castiel sane and he knows that he has to start to overcome this if he wants to begin to regain any semblance of the fierce, awe-inspiring warrior that he used to be.

Deep down, though, he can't help but feel as though he is a lost cause.

"You wanna watch a movie, Cas?" Sam says brightly, laying a hand on Castiel's shoulder. Castiel can't help but resent the taller man for his ability to smile in any situation and for the fact that he's largely moved past the effects of hosting Lucifer, while Castiel is still struggling to even keep himself sane.

"Thank you for your offer, Sam, but no thanks," he says. It's bad enough that he's burdening Sam and keeping him from bonding with the mother he'd never known; he's not going to latch onto the man and leech off him as he's been doing with Dean. Sam seems to wilt fractionally for a moment before perking right up.

"Oh, that's okay! Is there anything you wanna do, then?"

Castiel shrugs blandly.

"I thought I'd just sit here quietly."

"Oh." Sam eyes him. "Are you okay, Cas? I know it can't have been easy –"

Wow, Dean is right. Not even two minutes have passed and Sam is already trying to coax Castiel to talk about his feelings.

"I'm fine, Sam." He gives Sam what he hopes is a convincing smile. "I just desired the feeling of company. I…didn't want to feel alone."

"Oh, yeah, I get that." Sam smiles at him again and claps his shoulder. "I'll go get some reading done, then. If you need me…"

He leaves this invitation open, hesitating for a moment as if expecting Castiel to take him up on it. Then he releases Castiel and heads off towards the massive shelves of books, leaving the angel feeling oddly empty inside. Sam's touch had been nowhere near as potent or effective as Dean's but…it had been nice. He's disappointed that Sam let go of him.

But now he doesn't know what he's going to do. Everything he's done since that fateful night when he broke in front of Dean and Dean kissed him has been with his lover and he's not used to having to find something to do without Dean's reassuring presence there, or Dean's laugh, or that smile that makes his eyes crinkle –

A sudden wave of love surges through Castiel, catching him off-guard, and then it fades, leaving him feeling as empty as ever. He's tempted to seek out Sam, to indulge in the invitation of comfort, but he doesn't want to trouble Sam and he wants to be good and independent like Dean wants.

Castiel grimaces. It seems that even when Dean isn't here, he's still trying his best to please the man. He doesn't want to but he's beginning to acknowledge the separation problem he has.

Perhaps eating will help him to feel something and distract him. Yes, he can only taste molecules, but the act of preparing food takes thought and at the moment, he doesn't want to think about anything else. But what can he make?

Once in the kitchen, he explores the cupboards for ingredients. When he finds flour and sugar in one cupboard, an idea begins to form in his mind. He hurries out of the kitchen and back to the library, where he finds Sam so engaged in a thick book that the man doesn't even notice his entrance.

"Sam?" he says. Sam jumps, looks up and plasters a big smile on his face.

"Cas! Everything alright?"

"Yes. May I borrow your laptop? I want to research something."

"Sure!" Sam almost trips over himself in his haste to get Cas what he wants, which both amuses and mildly irritates the angel.

"Sam, you don't need to hasten to cater to me. I don't require nor deserve any special treatment."

"Oh. Sorry," Sam says with a self-deprecating laugh. "I'm just – just trying to make you feel comfortable."

Castiel frowns at him.

"Why would I not be comfortable?"

Sam gives him a small, understanding smile.

"You and Dean have been joined at the hip for two weeks now. I know it's gotta be hard being away from him –"

"May I have your laptop?" Castiel interrupts. He doesn't want to be rude but he also doesn't want Sam to lure him into the trap of talking about his feelings. Sam's shoulders slump.

"Sure thing, Cas."

He almost runs to his room, returning with the piece of technology in his hands, which he gives to Castiel.

"Thank you, Sam."

"Anytime, Cas."

Castiel turns to leave. He's almost at the door when Sam talks again.

"Dean's got that effect, doesn't he? He wants to fix everyone, make everyone else better, and it's hard being away from someone who just cares so much about you. Every time I left him or didn't have him…man, it was so hard. I had to get used to not having that one person who'd take a bullet for me – or send himself to Hell for me."

Sam sighs.

"I'm just trying to say that I get it, Cas. You've had Dean there, doing everything he can to make you feel as good and loved as possible…and now you've gotta get used to going it without him. I just…I just want to be there for you, Cas. I know exactly what you're going through. So I'm not gonna push but…I'm here if you need me. Even if it's just to have someone to sit with. I know that Lucifer would be the last thing you want to talk about."

A small sliver of something blooms inside Castiel's stomach. He turns and gives Sam a tiny smile.

"I appreciate that greatly, Sam. Thank you. I just have to learn to cope by myself. I won't always have somebody to rely on. That's why Dean was going to leave me here while you went hunting with him and Mary. But…"

"You can't be alone with your mind," Sam finishes for him. "I get it. If you need anything, tell me."

"I will."

With that promise, Castiel leaves the library and returns to the kitchen. Once he's started Sam's laptop up and opened an internet tab, he types in what he wants to search and clicks on the first promising-looking link. When he finds what he's after, a small smile crosses his lips.

Dean has done so much for him and Castiel cannot even begin to repay his lover for everything. But if cooking may serve as a suitable distraction then he may as well bake a pie for Dean when he returns with Mary. This way, Castiel doesn't have to acknowledge the dark thoughts lurking around the edges of his mind or the hollowness inside his very being, and Dean is greeted home with a delicious treat as a symbol of Castiel's affection.

At least, that's the plan.

"I can't do this anymore!" a sticky, flour-covered Castiel finally snaps half an hour later, hurling a bowl at the kitchen wall and watching it shatter. The ceramic shards gleam tantalisingly, inviting him to pick them up, maybe find out what they would look like covered in glistening scarlet blood –

"Cas?" an alarmed voice says from the doorway. Castiel blinks and looks up at Sam from where he's kneeling over the broken bowl, his hand clenched so tightly around a fragment that his palm and fingers are slick with blood.

"Sam," he says in a choked voice. "I want to stop. I can't do it. I just can't."

He's not sure whether he's referring to cutting himself or living; perhaps both. Sam doesn't look like he can tell either, but he still crosses over to Castiel, crouches down and gently opens the broken angel's hand to pluck the ceramic away.

"C'mon, Cas," Sam says gently, tugging Castiel to his feet. He guides Castiel to the sink, turns on the tap and holds Castiel's bloody hand under the flow of water to wash away the sticky crimson liquid. Castiel winces at the stinging pain but at the same time, he relishes it. This is why he had cut himself that first time. The pain makes him feel. And this bowl shard won't leave any mark on Castiel at all, unlike the faint lines criss-crossing his forearms from his angel blade, so he won't have a constant reminder of just how weak and broken he is.

"I'm fine, Sam," Castiel says quietly. "Look. It's healed."

His grace has quickly responded to this threat to his body, healing the wounds and leaving absolutely no trace. Once the blood is fully washed off, it's like nothing even happened.

"Come with me, Cas."

Cas finds himself bundled into Sam's arms and then he's practically hauled out of the kitchen and into the library, where Sam deposits him into a chair and then sits down next to him and pulls an open book close. When Sam doesn't say anything, Castiel frowns.

"What should I be doing?"

"Grab a book and read. Watch a movie. Do something. But I'm not leaving you alone, Cas."

Castiel bristles.

"I can take care of myself, Sam! I'm not delicate!"

"Didn't say you were."

Sam offers him a kind smile that Castiel just wants to wipe off his face because he doesn't deserve it, he doesn't, what has he done to deserve everybody caring for him and wanting to help him and being kind to him –

"Cas? You're starting to hyperventilate."

Castiel closes his eyes, forces himself to count to ten (and then does so again in French, Greek and Enochian, simply because he can) and then opens his eyes. Sam's still smiling at him and his fists clench.

"Stop that," Castiel snaps. The smile fades from Sam's face, filling Castiel with vindictive pleasure.

"Stop what?"

"Smiling at me. Treating me as though I'm worth something. Wanting to help me. Just…stop acting as though I deserve to be treated like a human being."

"But you do," Sam says firmly. "Cas, you think I'm like Dean and Mom and just trying to help without really knowing what you went through but I get it. I really do. You took my hallucinations – you saw what Lucifer did to me in the hundred and eighty years I was down there."

Castiel pauses, because he'd never stopped to consider that. He doesn't know the full extent of the damage that Sam took in Hell but he's seen enough to know that Sam Winchester is possibly one of the strongest people alive, to have battled with that weight on his shoulders and still be the kind, amazing person he is. Guilt suddenly floods through him. Here he is, making this all about himself again, when Sam has one hundred and eighty years of torture from Lucifer to top his measly less than one year (and Sam had been in Hell), and he doesn't know why the Winchesters want to stick around when he's so selfish –

"Stop that," Sam scolds. "You're feeling guilty. I can see it on your face. It doesn't matter if I had it way worse. You still had it, so you deserve all the support and love that we can give you. It's not like your shit's any less valid just because I had it worse."

"Less than a year and I'm crippled," Castiel says darkly. "But you forced yourself to keep going through your hallucinations. You fought them. I'm not even having hallucinations and I can barely function."

Sam stares at him for a moment before laughing long and loud. Castiel scowls.

"You were there!" Sam says, jabbing a finger at Castiel. "You saw me! My organs were about to give out on me! I was literally about to die before you took that crap from me!"

"Yes, but –"

"No. Shut up and listen. Yeah, I had it worse. But I also reacted worse. I was barely functioning! My mind was literally breaking apart! Cas, the only reason I'm even alive is because you took that crap from me! But no one's here to take it from you. That's why you're suffering like this, while I'm walking around perfectly fine."

Sam's mouth twists into a bitter smile.

"I got the easy way out, Cas," he says. "I got an angel to take it from me – and then you literally went insane because of it. Yeah, I'm such a great person. But you're dealing with all of that with no one there to take it off you. All we can do is try and help you shoulder some of it but, at the end of the day, you're the only one who can really carry it. And I don't just mean that as a pep talk. I'm talking literally."

Sam looks down, as though he's unable to meet Castiel's eyes. Castiel can't imagine why.

"It hurts, Cas," the man admits softly. "Knowing that you got such a raw deal out of all of this. And all of it's my fault."

"Sam, it's not –"

"I'm the reason you went insane the first time around! And then this time…" Sam gives a dark, hollow laugh. "This time, there's no one to blame but me. I'm the idiot who believed that my visions were coming from God. I'm the moron who let Lucifer out. You said yes to him but you wouldn't have even been in that position if I had just left him the hell alone. And now I've gotta watch you deal with your depression and your PTSD and stuff and Dean always knows how to help you, and Mom's got that maternal way of just comforting you, but me? I can't do jack."

Castiel's eyes begin to sting. He'd had no idea that Sam had been dealing with this – the man is truly exceptional at hiding things he doesn't want others to find out – and he wishes he'd known how much Sam was hurting, if only so that he could have sought out Sam's company sooner. If he'd known how much Sam wanted to help and feel as though he was making amends (even though he's wrong and this is all Castiel's fault, not his) then he would have asked Sam to do something with him far earlier than now.

"You can do plenty, Sam," Castiel says, laying a hand on Sam's arm. "You truly do understand my circumstances in a way that Dean and Mary do not. I should have thought to seek you out sooner. I'm sorry."

Sam shrugs.

"Don't be sorry. Don't ever be sorry for any of this."

"So long as you accept that this is as much your fault as mine and move on. We both made mistakes and we have both paid for them. Stop blaming yourself, Sam."

Sam offers Castiel a small smile, finally looking up from the floor.

"Thanks, Cas."

They sit in silence for a few moments before Sam breaks it.

"What were you even trying to do?"

Castiel looks down, cheeks flushed.

"I was trying to bake a pie for Dean," he mumbles. "To thank him for everything he's done. I wanted to keep my mind occupied."

Sam laughs and reaches out to pat Castiel on the shoulder.

"Come on, then. Let's go make Dean that pie."

Castiel has possibly the best afternoon he's had in a long time. Despite how much he truly enjoys being with Dean, there's something almost childlike and liberating about attempting to bake an apple pie and a pecan pie with Sam while both of them pelt the other with food items, shrieking with laughter, and then retire to Sam's bedroom to watch a movie while they wait for the pies to cook. Though there is a minor hitch when Castiel, starving for touch and affection, curls himself around Sam's body and long limbs and Sam freezes and stares at him in confusion.

"What're you doing?" he says. Castiel frowns at him.

"I was under the impression that we're friends, Sam. I'm seeking comfort from a friend."

"Oh. Just…don't you usually do this with Dean?"

"He's unavailable at the moment."

Sam snorts at this, making Castiel smile.

"Sam, it's only human society that has dictated that males cannot touch unless there is homoerotic connotations beneath it. If I desire physical comfort from a friend then I will seek it. It's only romantic if you choose to interpret it that way."

"Oh." Sam relaxes after that, though he doesn't wrap an arm around Castiel or make any move to hold the angel. Castiel doesn't mind; he'd much rather Dean be the one to hold him, in any case.

Once the pies are ready, they return to watching their movie and end up falling asleep on the bed, their limbs tangled together and Castiel drooling into Sam's mane of hair. This is how Dean finds them the next day when he and Mary return from what turns out to be a bust and though Castiel can sense them standing in the doorway of the bedroom, he doesn't open his eyes.

"You trying to steal my angel, you bitch?" Dean bursts out. Castiel feels Sam clawing his way back to consciousness.

"Shouldn't leave him where I can get him, jerk," Sam says, then slides his arm around Castiel's waist for good measure. Castiel knows that this is all to tease Dean, so he snuggles into Sam with a content sigh and opens his eyes to smirk at Dean.

"Sam is much cuddlier. He's like a teddy bear."

Mary's laughing from behind Dean, who's fighting to keep a smile off his face.

"Fine," he declares dramatically. "Take my angel. See if I care. I thought we had something, Cas!"

"I apologise, Dean." Castiel slips out of Sam's grip and approaches Dean, who just crosses his arms. "Can you forgive me?"

"Nope. Never."

"Not even if I tell you that we baked you apple and pecan pies?"

Dean takes in Castiel and Sam's clothes like he hadn't noticed the food stains until now.

"Well…" He pretends to deliberate. "I suppose that would be an acceptable apology. And I s'pose I could forget it ever happened if you give me a welcome home kiss."

Grinning, Castiel slides his arms around Dean and eagerly meets his lips.

"I'm glad you're back, Dean," he says after they break apart from their deep kiss.

"Damn right, angel. You better be."