Back with another Raising Hell one-shot! I thought we needed a Wheatly and Cas centric story because I came to love writing their grudging partner/(friend?)ship in the last couple stories. Hope you guys enjoy!

This is set directly after "King of the Damned"

Also, using the headcanon (which I believe I originally stole from Aini NuFire XD) that hellhound bites are bad news for angels. And I'm also going to address this, because I know someone is bound to ask: no this does not mean that if Juliet gives Cas a friendly lick, he's going to be hospitalized, though it probably wouldn't be good if she licked an open wound.

Hellfire and Halos

A Supernatural Fanfic

"Are you sure this is the place?"

Wheatly turned to Castiel with a rather exasperated look. "Yes, I told you several times that this was the correct location."

Castiel rolled his eyes as he turned the key in the ignition after parking the truck. He looked out at the location they had arrived at, somewhere in the middle of nowhere in Montana, mountains climbing steadily in front of them.

"Well, the only reason I ask is because it looks like nothing is here," he noted with not a little sarcasm.

Wheatly's exasperated look turned baleful. "And what good would a hidden crypt be if it was out in the open, angel? Come on." He got out of the truck and Castiel followed with another roll of his eyes, grabbing a bag of items they might need from the back.

"I do have a name, you know."

"I am aware," Wheatly said and turned before Castiel could see the small smirk cross his lips.

Castiel let out an exasperated sigh, looking up to the sky. This was going to be a long trip.

The reason he was in Montana with a demon at the foot of a mountain was because they had discovered something when they had gone through Hell's records to see if there might be anything they had to hand that could help them defeat Asmodeus. They were still recovering from when the Prince of Hell had invaded Hell and nearly got the better of them all.

Apparently, back when Lucifer first fell, he had gotten wind that Michael had made a lance that could kill him, so, not wanting to be outdone, he had made one for himself as well. However, it seemed to be one of the few weapons that hadn't ended up in Hell's armory, as Lucifer had, instead, stored it for a rainy day in one of his crypts. Luckily, Wheatly had been able to dig up a list of all the locations since most of the Lucifer loyalists were dead. One of the demons who had helped stock stuff away in the crypts, thought he remembered the lance being stored in the Montana location, and so from there it was just a matter of retrieving it.

However, they thought it had been best if Sam and Dean stay in Hell. They still didn't know what Asmodeus was planning, though he had been laying low by all accounts. Castiel still felt better knowing they were safe with the new security that Winston had set up, even if that meant that he was stuck with Hell's Steward.

It wasn't that he disliked Wheatly, he had actually come to respect, and even genuinely trust the demon after what they had gone through during Asmodeus's invasion. But he was still not exactly what Castiel could class as a friend, and, as Dean would say, he didn't really play well with others.

And the demon could be trying on occasion.

"How far is the crypt supposed to be from here?" Castiel asked as they started into the rocky terrain at the foothills of the mountains.

Wheatly looked at a map he had scribbled onto a piece of paper. "Only about three miles up. We'll know it when we see it. Here, we're supposed to follow the river."

Castiel wasn't so sure they would know it when they saw it, but he had little choice but to follow the demon, slinging the pack over his shoulder.

Wheatly looked strange dressed in a black turtleneck sweater and tactical jacket and combat boots like some sort of Hollywood hitman. Castiel had never seen him in anything but his suit but he supposed a suit wasn't entirely suitable for this kind of thing. He had given up caring about his own trench coat and tie ensemble a long time ago.

The mountain was peaceful, if not rocky and a little rough. This place was far from any hiking trails and Castiel could understand why. It wasn't exactly easy going.

As they were passing a ridge, he slipped on a loose rock and tripped, pin-wheeling his arms as he tried not to fall over the edge to the rocks below.

Wheatly turned and snagged the strap of the pack he carried, yanking him back to safety.

"Careful, it's a bit treacherous," the demon advised.

Castiel huffed, straightened his black trench coat as he eyed the drop again, swallowing. His grace was still building back up after all that Asmodeus took from him. If he had fallen and broken anything besides an arm, it could take days to heal—days of them stuck on the mountain or at least long enough for the Winchesters to come to their rescue.

"What's the matter, angel? Afraid of heights?" Wheatly asked.

Castiel pushed past him and continued down the nonexistent path. "Leave it."

Wheatly hurried to catch up to him on his shorter legs. "You know, I thought you would be a little kinder to the idea of working with demons. After all, I know you worked with Crowley on several occasions."

Castiel grunted. "I never said I liked working with Crowley."

"He said you were a good partner."

Castiel snorted. "I'm afraid the feeling wasn't entirely mutual." Though Crowley wasn't the worst person Castiel had had the misfortune to work with either, which was saying something.

"What about Meg then?" Wheatly asked almost slyly. "From what I've heard, you two seemed to be a rather…good team."

Castiel glowered at him. "Meg was different."

"Because you were sleeping together?"

Castiel felt his face flame. "It wasn't like…we never…why am I even talking to you about this?" He whipped around to face the demon angrily.

Wheatly raised his hands in surrender. "I'm just trying to make friendly conversation. We should be friends, you know. Or, at the very least, learn to work together better. We'll be stuck together for a long time in Hell, angel."

"My friends don't call me angel," Castiel told him firmly and turned back around, continuing down the path by the river.

Truthfully, he was a little uptight about this mission—not that Wheatly mentioning Meg made it better, but…to be fair the last time he'd come in contact with an angelic lance it hadn't gone well. If Lucifer's lance was anything like the one Michael had made, then Castiel knew it would work against Asmodeus, but also against him and any other angel. And if Michael's was bad enough to poison any being with grace and give them a horribly slow death, then Castiel didn't want to think about what Lucifer's might do.

Luckily, it didn't take long to get to their destination and Wheatly had been right, they did know it when they saw it.

A river ran through the mountains, and the crash of a lot of water could be heard before they saw the source. They came out onto a flat stretch that looked out over a small waterfall.

"Ah, exactly as promised," Wheatly said with a small smile. "Come on, we have to go down there; the entrance is behind the waterfall."

They climbed down to the pool underneath the roaring waters. Spray hit Castiel's face as they made their way behind the falls, careful on the slippery rocks. Behind the curtain of water, there was a cave, which they stepped into.

Castiel and Wheatly pulled out flashlights and looked around the area.

"So how do we get into this crypt?" Castiel asked, having to speak loudly to be heard over the crashing water.

"There should be some indication," Wheatly replied.

They cast the beams from their flashlights over the cave until Castiel's light fell on something.

"Here," he called.

Wheatly came over to him and looked up as Castiel illuminated the wall where there were Enochian sigils carved in a strange pattern.

"It doesn't say anything," Castiel said with a frown. "It's gibberish."

"Or a code," Wheatly mused, stepping closer. "Perhaps—"

He touched one of the sigils and it began to glow. The others began to glow one after another in a circle and it was only then that Castiel began to have a very bad feeling about this.

"Wait…" he tried, but it was already too late.

As the last sigil illuminated, the floor dropped from under them and they plummeted into the darkness.

Wheatly hit the ground hard and a fraction of a second later, something slammed into his back, smashing his face into the unforgiving stone. He grunted and heard a groan as the angel rolled off of him.

"Perhaps we should have inspected that a little more closely," Wheatly stated wryly as he pushed himself onto his knees.

"That would have been wise," Castiel replied and shuffled around, pulling a flashlight out of his pack. Neither of them really needed it to see in the dark, but it was always best to be safe than sorry. Especially since it looked like this was going to be one of Lucifer's trickier crypts.

The beam from the flashlight illuminated a long stony pathway ahead of them.

Wheatly got to his feet, dusting himself off. "Well, it looks like there's only one way to go."

The path was narrow and they could only fit through one at a time. Castiel took the lead and they squeezed down the small passage.

"What are you seeing ahead?" Wheatly asked.

"Just more tunnel, I can't see how far it goes, it keeps winding…wait."

The passage widened and Castiel stopped and moved to one side so Wheatly could join him. There was a recess and a doorway on one side that looked like it opened into a chamber.

There was only one way and that was through.

"Well," Wheatly stated, straightening his shoulders.

Castiel's jaw was tight as he swept his flashlight across the doorway. "We'll proceed with caution. It's possible there are more booby traps."

They carefully advanced to the doorway, sweeping the area for anything suspicious. Wheatly glanced around but saw no stones that looked like they might move, no trip wires. It was almost disconcerting.

"I think we're good," Castiel said and they stepped inside.

They both paused, tense, but nothing happened. They let out a collective sigh.

"Right," Wheatly said smartly, glancing around. "Let's get what we came for and get out of here."

"Agreed," Castiel said and they split up, beginning to look around the room.

It wasn't very large, but the ceiling of the cave rose quite a ways above their heads. Wheatly inspected a couple locked crates that were stacked against the wall, but they weren't big enough to hold the spear.

"Wheatly."

The demon turned around at Castiel's call and saw the angel standing in front of the back wall of the cave where several more crates were stacked.

And above them, hanging horizontally, was a long lance with a silver tip.

"I do believe that's it," Wheatly commented as he came over to stand next to the angel.

Castiel reached up and took the lance from its holders cautiously, inspecting the haft of it where some sigils were carved. His face was stony. "Yes, this is it."

"I'm honestly amazed we found it here," Wheatly said and turned around. "Let's go."

They turned back to the entrance of the crypt but the sound of grating stone stopped them. The angel and the demon both turned around to see the protrusions that the spear had been resting on retreating into the wall.

"Angel, I think it's best we leave now," Wheatly noted.

Castiel seemed to agree and they dashed to the door just as a rumble sounded out, followed by a booming crash.

They just barely skidded to a stop before they were crushed by the rocks, Castiel grabbing Wheatly and yanking him back so that they both fell in a heap on the ground. They could only watch helplessly as the only way out was blocked.

"Now what?" Castiel demanded, climbing to his feet, disgruntled.

Wheatly opened his mouth to reply when another scraping sounded out on the opposite side of the chamber, followed by a dangerous growl.

Both angel and demon spun around, reaching for weapons as a dark shape dashed out of an opening in the wall, snarling and snapping.

"Hellhound!" Wheatly shouted in warning as the beast, huge and frothing at the mouth, leapt at them.

There was no telling how long the hound had been left down in the crypt to guard the place, but it was obviously making up for lost time as it practically launched itself at the two beings who had invaded the lair under its protection.

"That must be why this place wasn't booby-trapped on the way in," Castiel grunted, fending away the hound with the spear. "Anyone who tries to rob the place isn't meant to leave!"

The hound launched itself at Wheatly, leaping directly for his throat, and he ducked swiftly out of the way, feeling the hound's claws rake his shoulder on the way over. He whipped up an angel blade and caught the beast across the flank.

The hellhound yelped in pain as it landed and turned to lash out before Wheatly could spin around into a better position to fight it.

"Hey!"

The hellhound whipped back around toward Castiel as the angel caught its attention. It lunged at Castiel who swept the spear around, but the beast was too quick. It dodged the angel's strike with the spear and clamped its jaws around Castiel's thigh, teeth punching through flesh.

Castiel cried out in shock and pain, staggering as the hellhound used its weight against him to bring him to the ground.

"Angel!" Wheatly shouted, already running forward, angel blade raised.

The hellhound had a huge paw on Castiel's chest, claws digging into his ribs as it focused in on his throat. Wheatly took the moment it was distracted and slammed his angel blade into the back of the beast's neck.

It howled and gurgled, black blood pouring out across the angel's shirt and face and Wheatly shoved it away from Castiel where it twitched and bled out on the floor until it finally stilled.

Wheatly kicked it, making sure it was dead, before he turned and strode back to the wounded angel. Castiel was panting, rolling onto his side, face creased with pain.

"Is it dead?" the angel asked roughly.

Wheatly nodded and crouched down, reaching out to inspect the wound in Castiel's leg, but the angel grunted and pushed his hand away.

"Leave it, look for a way out of here." He shifted, gritting his teeth as he propped himself up against one of the crates. "I'll be fine."

Wheatly pressed his lips into a thin line and reached into his pocket to pull out a clean handkerchief which he handed to Castiel. "You are a terrible liar, angel."

Castiel glowered at him half-heartedly, but accepted the handkerchief. Wheatly did look around, leaving the angel until he decided to be less stubborn. The way they had come in was out of the question. He might be able to move the rocks but it would take hours and there was no telling what other surprises might have been left for unsuspecting visitors.

He picked up the flashlight that had been dropped in the fight and started searching the room with it, casting it up above his head.

He could tell the room wasn't sealed off completely. Demons, and angels for that matter, didn't need to breathe to survive so it didn't really matter either way, but he could still feel fresh air coming from somewhere. He just had to find the source. He turned his face up, trying to determine the direction the fresh breeze was coming from.

And there, about ten feet off the ground…he saw an opening!

There was no way of telling where it went, but it might be a way out. If it was where the fresh air was coming from then it might even lead directly outside the cave.

A hiss of pain caused him to turn back around to his wounded companion. Castiel was slumped over, gritting his teeth as he pressed the handkerchief to his leg.

Wheatly pressed his lips into a thin line. He glanced back up to the opening, then returned to the angel's side.

"There seems to be an opening up near the ceiling," he said, crouching down and taking his pack from his shoulder.

Castiel glanced up, brow furrowed. "Is it a way out?"

"Considering it seemed to be our only chance, I'm hopeful," Wheatly replied somewhat wryly.

Castiel nodded slowly. "Then you should go."

Wheatly gave him a look. "And leave you here, you mean."

Castiel returned his look. "You'll be quicker without me. At least see if it leads somewhere."

Wheatly finished pulling the first aid kit out of his bag before he replied. "No, I don't think so."

Castiel looked at him, surprised. "Why not? You can even take the spear back to Sam and Dean; I'll only slow you down with this leg…"

"And what makes you think I'm going to simply waltz out of here without you?" Wheatly chided. Really, did the angel think that little of him? "I would hope you would give me more credit than that."

Castiel shrugged, but glanced aside, almost embarrassed. "You're a demon."

"And that means I have no sense of loyalty," Wheatly snapped, shaking his head. "After everything you have seen me do, you still doubt me?"

Castiel looked chastened and Wheatly sighed, opening the kit and shuffling through it to see what they had to work with. "As if I could face my king if I left you here. And yes, I know what hellhound bites do to angels. I know that within a couple hours you'll likely be taken by fever, so you may as well not bother trying to pretend otherwise."

Castiel swallowed hard, but put on a tough look. Wheatly sighed slightly. "Which is why I'm getting you out of here before that. I just need to patch you up first."

Castiel pressed his lips into a thin line, but finally slumped back against the crate, in surrender. "Fine."

Wheatly gave a small smile and slipped his gloves off before he reached out to pull the already blood-soaked handkerchief away from the angel's wound. "Nice to know there's still some common sense in that stubborn head of yours, angel."

Castiel growled, then winced as Wheatly ripped his trouser leg to see the wound. It didn't look good. The hound's teeth had punctured deep into the muscle of Castiel's thigh, though luckily hadn't hit an artery or bone. Not that that meant it wasn't bad. Wheatly had seen what hellhound bites could do to angels. It wouldn't kill him, but it would make him miserable for a couple days probably. There was only one thing he could do to make it a little easier.

Resigned, he turned back to the first aid kit and pulled out a small flask, setting it gently on the ground. He put his gloves back on before he carefully took it up again and unscrewed it.

"What is that?" Castiel grunted.

"Holy water," Wheatly said, careful not to drip it on himself even though his hands were protected by the gloves. "This will sting a bit."

He gave Castiel only a moment to brace himself before he poured the contents of the flask over the wounds.

The angel threw his head back and screamed as the holy water bubbled angrily in the infected wound, then Castiel slumped, unconscious, against the crate.

Wheatly rocked back on his heels with a short sigh. "Well, at the very least he'll be easier to treat now."

"Angel."

Castiel started awake to a hand on his shoulder and scrambled for a weapon, but saw it was only Wheatly standing in front of him. The steward had both their packs slung over his shoulders and was bent over, offering a hand.

"We need to go."

Castiel allowed the demon to help pull him to his feet. His leg was stiff and aching and he bit back a groan. He could already feel the hellhound's bite affecting him. The poison spreading through his body, attacking his already weakened grace. His body was beginning to ache and he knew the fever would be upon him all too soon.

The demon took his weight though and helped him over to one side of the cave.

"Over here."

He saw that Wheatly had stacked some of the crates from the room against the wall so they would be able to reach the tunnel. Castiel sagged slightly at the sight, wondering why the demon was so determined to drag him up there.

"Hold this," Wheatly said, handing Castiel the spear as he began to climb up the makeshift ladder. Castiel reluctantly followed, gritting his teeth against the pain in his leg and just trying to concentrate on not falling.

He handed the spear up to Wheatly and then slid into the tunnel behind the demon. At least it wasn't too small, though they would still have to crawl. Castiel wasn't sure if his leg would be able to manage it, but he supposed he had little choice.

"We don't even know how far this goes," Castiel grunted as he grabbed the spear again and prepared to shuffle along behind the demon.

"I'm judging that it's at least a mile," Wheatly said. "But buck up, we'll get there."

Castiel grumbled but they started along, crouched low in the tunnel.

It was not easy going. The tunnel was dark and rocky and the cramped position they had to be in to move along with the packs and the spear was only making it worse.

And of course, Castiel could also feel the hellhound bite pulling him under. He was sweating, and shivering at the same time now, his body weak and achy. He had to suppress his groans as he dragged his wounded leg along, every time it came into contact with anything it sent a jolt of agony through him. He didn't want to look weak in front of Wheatly but it was getting harder and harder for him to go on.

Finally, he scraped his wounded leg against a rock and his arms, already weak, gave out, as he collapsed onto the rock. The cool of the stone felt good against his fevered cheek and he closed his eyes as he lay there, forgetting their urgency and their position.

It seemed a long moment before Wheatly called to him as if from far away. "Angel? You must get up! We need to keep moving."

Castiel groaned. "Mm, no. You go. I can't…" He bit his tongue, but it was the truth. He didn't think he could move another inch right now. He pushed the spear toward the demon before he curled up on the ground, trying to will his body to stop aching so much.

Wheatly gave what sounded like a long-suffering sigh and Castiel felt him sit at his head before there was a shuffling of packs. He huffed a protest as his head and shoulders were lifted onto one of them and Wheatly unzipped the other.

"Then we'll take a moment to rest," he said and pulled a canteen out of the bag, offering it to Castiel.

The angel took it in a shaky hand and raised it to his lips. He gulped thirstily, the water supplying him with a brief moment of coolness before the fire from the infection took over again. He closed his eyes.

"Let me see your wound," Wheatly said and Castiel felt him tugging at the makeshift bandage he had wrapped around Castiel's leg while he had been unconscious before. He grunted and tried to shift away.

"Leave it, it won't do any good."

Wheatly sighed, but checked the bandage anyway, making sure it was secure before he sat on the opposite side of the tunnel with his back to the wall, facing the angel.

Castiel stared at him for a brief moment. "Why? Why are you staying here with me? I'll be lucky if I can find the energy to make it the rest of the way," he swallowed down a groan of pain as a shiver wracked him. "We don't even know how far we still have to go."

"I'm not leaving you behind, angel," Wheatly told him with something like resignation.

It might be the fever, but Castiel couldn't help but feel slightly baffled. "Where did a demon learn such loyalty?" he asked almost to himself.

But Wheatly's shoulders stiffened slightly, catching Castiel's attention. "You might have always been an angel, but I wasn't always a demon. I was human, once."

"And how did such a loyal human end up in Hell?" Castiel asked gruffly.

Wheatly was silent for a long moment and Castiel thought he had offended the demon but finally the steward began to speak again. "I was the trusted manservant for a young lord—and oh, the trouble he would get into. His misadventures would rival that of His Majesty and Master Winchester."

Castiel grunted, finding that hard to believe.

"But he had a good heart, and he did the dangerous things he did to help people. I was hired by his father in the hopes that I could help keep him alive, and so I stuck by his side through everything. I was his servant, but, despite societal differences, I loved him like a brother." Wheatly took a sharp intake of breath. "And then came the day I didn't get to him in time, and he was killed, bled out in my arms."

Castiel winced, feeling pity for the demon, imagining if he were in the same position with Sam or Dean. "What did you do?" he asked.

Wheatly glanced up at him. "It was my duty to protect him with my life, so I did. On one of our journeys a Gypsy woman had told us about asking favors at a crossroads. I didn't believe that sort of thing, but I was desperate. So I went to the crossroads and I summoned a demon and traded my life for my master's."

Castiel swallowed hard. "How long did you get?"

Wheatly shook his head, a small smile. "I was dead before he woke. But I knew he was alive and that was all that mattered."

Castiel shook his head, murmuring, "Souls like yours, they don't belong in Hell." That was why the Winchesters had started the policy of signing off on crossroads deals.

Wheatly cocked his head to one side. "I made the deal knowingly; it was my sacrifice to make."

"Exactly, a sacrifice for the sake of love," Castiel said. "That's a pure thing."

"I'm not so sure you see the point, but I wouldn't really expect an angel to anyway," Wheatly said, but the tone was more teasing than anything even if it did rub Castiel the wrong way. "I believe I ended up right where I needed to be. My master went on to live a long life, and I have in turn found new masters to give my loyalties to. Would you rather I be locked away up in Heaven right now in some fantasy world while you're lying here in this tunnel?"

Castiel huffed but nodded. "A fair point."

"I am happy to serve in Hell, especially now that it has a king who I feel is worthy of my loyalty," Wheatly said and shifted again, pulling the pack back over him shoulder and taking up the spear as he held out his free hand to the angel. "I think you understand that."

"I do," Castiel agreed.

"Then I think it's time we get back," Wheatly said and pulled Castiel upright.

The angel groaned but somehow managed to start moving again, and keep moving until daylight showed in the tunnel ahead.

"There, see? A way out after all," Wheatly said.

They squeezed out the crack in the side of the mountain into the forest on the other side of the waterfall. Wheatly grabbed Castiel under the arm and steadied him as he staggered on his injured leg, breathing a sigh of relief in the sunlight.

"Well, I would say that overall this mission was a success."

Castiel glowered at the demon, gritting his teeth against the increasing pain.

"Well, we found what we were looking for anyway," Wheatly said glibly, taking Castiel's arm and slinging it over his shoulders. "Come on, angel, you need to be resting in a bed."

Castiel grumbled but leaned on the demon, not having any other choice, as they headed back to where they had parked the car.

After a few minutes of walking, Castiel finally spoke up. "Thank you. For not leaving me."

He caught Wheatly giving a small smile. "Oh, well, I'm quite used to coaxing an injured partner to finish a mission. Had lots of practice."

Castiel groaned slightly as aches broke out through him. He was fading fast. He stumbled.

Wheatly, surprisingly strong for his small frame, heaved him back upright. "Angel, don't you dare give up on me now. Only a few more minutes to the car."

Castiel moaned, but was already feeling himself slipping. The fever was taking over and with the sense of urgency gone, he didn't even have adrenaline to help him out.

He hit the ground before he knew what was happening. He could feel Wheatly shaking him but it only sent painful jolts through his body. He couldn't open his eyes.

"Get up, angel. Don't make me carry you the rest of the way…Castiel!"

Castiel faded into a fevered unconsciousness, his last thought bemused at the fact the demon had actually called him by his name.

Castiel woke blearily, blinking. Someone removed something from his forehead and then replaced it with something colder and damp. He moaned.

"Hey, Cas? Open your eyes for me."

He blinked his eyes open the rest of the way and looked up into Dean's worried face. He parted his lips, and found them dry and cracked, his mouth felt like sandpaper.

"Hold on," Dean said and turned his back, retuning a moment later with a glass of water. He slipped his hand under Cas' head and raised him up, pressing the glass to his lips. The cool water sliding down his throat felt like Heaven—and he should know.

Once he became a little more lucid, he realized they were in his room in the bunker, not in Hell.

Dean was pulling back the blanket to expose Castiel's leg, checking the bandage and seeming satisfied before he tucked the blanket back around the angel.

"What happened?" Castiel finally croaked.

Dean set the glass aside and readjusted the cloth on Castiel's forehead. "After you and Wheatly found the spear, he said you collapsed. I guess he carried you back to the car." Castiel felt slightly embarrassed and indignant at that news but it couldn't really be helped. "He called us and said he was gonna take you here, thought it would help you heal better."

Castiel suddenly felt a surge of gratitude for the demon. He hated recuperating in Hell. Not that he thought the demons would bother him with everyone else around, but he was uncomfortable being so vulnerable around them.

"We got the spear?" he asked.

"Yep," Dean said. "Wheatly went back to Hell with Sam once we knew you would be okay. They've got the spear in a safe place, waiting for us to use it against Asmodeus. Now our only problem is finding him."

Castiel nodded grimly. After Asmodeus had infiltrated Hell and taken them all captive, he'd run, wounded with his lackies. They hadn't been able to find any trace of him since, but they knew it was too much to hope that he had expired from his injuries. Asmodeus was still out there and he could be planning anything.

But in the meantime, Castiel was exhausted, and he slumped back against his pillows. "Well, at least the mission was a success."

"Yeah," Dean smiled. "It looks like you and Wheatly make a good team."

Castiel was about to roll his eyes, but instead, he smiled slightly, bemused. "Yeah, I guess we do."

Dean squeezed his shoulder briefly. "I'm glad you're okay, buddy. Get some rest. We've got a lot of work ahead of us."

Castiel sighed and closed his eyes. What else was new?