AN: Huzzah! Sequel time! If you haven't read my other fic, Cas Gets a Pet, you should read that one first so as that you understand what's going on here. Anywho, I finally found the time to sit down and at least start writing this, which means I stayed up till 1am working on it. :D Also, you should all go to DeviantArt and check out Akenia; she did some absolutely adorable drawings of Cas and Hilary. Not gonna lie, I squeed when I saw them. Alright, let's get this show on the road, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except the duck. ;P

Warning: Un-beta'd, all mistakes are mine and I apologize in advance.

Dean was stretched out on his motel bed with his laptop on his stomach and his left leg propped up on a couple pillows. As he typed and jotted down notes with his right hand, his left was idly stroking a small white duck. The door to the room opened as Sam walked in carrying a couple bags of food. Pausing, he took in the sight of his brother and huffed a laugh.

"Well look at you. You're doing research and petting the duck. Way to multitask bro."

"Shut-up bitch. It's not like there's anything else I can do, and day time television sucks ass."

"Yeah, well, you're just lucky that Hilary was able to heal your leg as much as she did, otherwise you'd probably be in traction instead of just having a badly bruised bone. Jerk."

The duck in question quacked softly and stretched her wings with a flutter. Hilary had been sticking close to them, well more so Dean, since Castiel returned to fight the war in Heaven. It had been weeks since they had seen or heard from the angel. Hilary had made herself a useful member of their team in that time. It wasn't all smooth sailing though. The first couple days after Cas had left were filled with near constant calls from the duck and Dean yelling for Cas to come pick up his damn duck. They had been forced to spend those nights sleeping in the Impala since there was no way to keep a distressed, teleporting duck locked in the car while they got a motel room (Hilary insisted on being no less than three feet away from Dean at all times and Sam wouldn't let him put a ring of Holy Fire around her).

Eventually she calmed down, so that they could leave her in the car when they ate out and she kept quiet when they were in the motels. As the days and hunts went by, the duck began to grow on the boys. Hilary became a near constant fixture on Sam's shoulder as he did his research. Oddly enough, she helped out sometimes. Sam wasn't sure how she did it. Sometimes she'd bite his ear if he exited a site too fast or skimmed past one in the search engine and only once he'd gone back to the site and read through it, would she let go. And sure enough, those sites were ones that had good portions of information that he was looking for. Dean even seemed to be more comfortable around her. Sam would catch him actually talking to her and sharing his food with her. The older Winchester had even started to let the bird sleep on the pillow next to his at night, without the trouble of locking her in the bathroom only to wake up face-to-face with her the next morning.

Hilary quickly took up the habit of accompanying them on their hunts, using the bit of Cas's Grace that was in her to heal them if they so much as got a scrape. However, they were beginning to notice that she had stopped trying to heal every scrape. They had thought it was because she had learned that she didn't have to heal every little scratch they got. Unfortunately they hadn't actually realized it was because the Grace she harbored was becoming diluted. Not until their last hunt anyways.

They had been hunting a real nasty werewolf and things had gotten out of hand when they finally managed to corner it. The thing had knocked Sam against the side of the ravine they were in, stunning him, before tossing a long, heavy log at Dean. He had stumbled backwards over a different log and gotten his lower leg crushed between the two as he tried to, unsuccessfully, avoid it. Sam had rushed over to help get his big brother unstuck, but was immediately ordered to go after the werewolf. Sam had reluctantly done so, taking some comfort in the fact that Hilary had appeared and sat on Dean's chest. When he came back after finishing the job, Dean had passed out from the pain. Slightly grateful for that, Sam went to work on removing the long on his brother's leg. He gasped when he saw the bloody damage. Hilary immediately sat on the knee of the injured leg, getting as close to it as she could without putting weight on it. How the duck knew not to do that was beyond Sam's comprehension.

After what seemed like ages, Dean's eyes had fluttered open and he tried to get up. That's when they had their wakeup call to Hilary's waning abilities. Dean, expecting to be able to walk with no problems, had immediately collapsed back to the ground as soon as he put weight on his injured leg. Fearing that it was still broken, Sam had ended up carrying a very pissed Dean in a fireman's carry all the way back to the Impala. Once Dean was laid across the back seat with his leg splinted, Sam got in the driver's seat and took off to the nearest hospital. After getting a series of x-rays, the ER doctor there had assured them that Dean's leg was decidedly not broken and that it was just heavily bruised. So now they were following the doctor's orders and just chilling at a motel for a couple days while Dean's leg healed up a bit.

"Anyways, got you your favorite, so come eat it before it gets cold." Sam said, snapping out of his memories, putting the bags on the table as well as a six-pack of beer. He walked past the beds to the sink to get himself a glass of water. Dean grinned as he put his laptop and notes aside and levered himself into a sitting position. He sat there for a moment, eyeing the distance to the table.

"Dude, just use the damn crutches." The taller Winchester scolded without turning around.

"How'd-?"

"Really? You need to ask?"

"Point taken, fine." Dean huffed, reaching for his crutches that were leaned against the night stand. The doctor had suggested them after seeing Dean trying to limp his way out of the ER. Dean hated crutches, but Sam was in mother hen mode and made him use them. He click-clacked his way to the table and shoved the accursed things away as he sat down.

"I hate those things." He mumbled before getting a face full of feathers as Hilary missed her favorite landing zone: the top of his head. He grabbed her swiftly and held her in front of his face.

"Seriously? How many times have we talked about this? If you want French fries, you sit on the table and behave."

Placing the duck on the table, Dean tossed a couple fries in front of her before grabbing his double bacon cheese burger and began decimating it. Same walked over to take his seat with a chuckle.

"Wha' 'o f'nny?" Dean asked, mouth full of delicious goodness.

"You." Was the simple reply. The blond rolled his eyes as he opened a beer. He grabbed a small glass that was sitting on the table and poured some of the amber liquid in it before putting it in front of the duck, who eagerly dipped her beak into it.

"Seriously? You taught the angel duck to drink?"

"She makes a hell of a better drinking buddy than you." It was Sam's turn to roll his eyes.

"So did you find anything new about the whole Grace-infused animal thing?"

"Believe it or not, Shamu started talking to his trainer this morning. Didn't appreciate the guy standing on his nose or something."

"So that's a no then."

"A resounding one at that, little brother. Unfortunately for us, I'm pretty sure the only source of information we got on this stuff is the angels, and they sure as hell aren't talking." Dean crammed the trash from his meal back in the bag. He leaned over to grab his prescription bottle with the pain meds for his leg, and popped some into his mouth before swallowing them with a gulp of beer. Sam stood up and grabbed the empty food bags and threw them in the trash. Sitting down on his bed, he looked over at Dean expectantly.

"What the hell is that look for?" Dean grumbled leaning back in the chair, too lazy to move back to the bed. He reached over and started stroking the feathers on Hilary's wings. The duck made a sound of contentment.

"I know you've tried before, but-" Sam started only to be cut off when glaring green eyes landed on him.

"Dude, I've been praying to Cas to give us some answers for weeks now and gotten no answer. What makes you think tonight's the night?"

"Well, you know, you just never know till you try." The younger Winchester offered sheepishly. Dean sighed heavily and closed his eyes.

"Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray to Castiel to come give us some God damn answers. This whole being ignored thing is starting to piss me off here. Amen."

The sound of wing beats came from the front of the room, followed by a gruff, "You wished to speak with me?"

Dean turned in his seat to face the angel, his eyes widening at what he saw.

"Oh you have got to be shiting me."

AN: And cut! I know, I'm a horrible person. :P I promise more Cas in the next chapter.