A/N: Here we are at the end! Such a bittersweet moment for me as I've really enjoyed this fic. Thank you for the reviews, favorites, and follows. You guys inspire me to keep writing. Speaking of which, I'll have a Supernatural Halloween adventure for you in a bit!

Chapter 12: When I Wake

Sam bolted upright with a gasp. Lukewarm air with a hint of coffee grounds filled his nose, and he frantically twisted around to take in his surroundings. He was lying on the bed in their motel room. No Hell, no monsters, no baku. He patted himself down, relieved to find his clothes dry and clean, no tatters in the fabric or his skin.

He started when Dean jolted into consciousness from the chair next to the bed. His brother whipped around, eyes wide looking for danger. Gripping the armrests, he finally settled on Sam.

"Are we awake?" he asked nervously.

"Pretty sure," Sam said. They'd killed the baku, so it had to be over.

They both turned their gazes to the second bed where Cas lay, unmoving.

Dean surged to his feet. "Cas?" He patted the angel's cheek. "Cas!"

Sam scrambled from the bed and hurried around to Castiel's other side, taking his wrist. A faint but steady throb pulsated under his fingers. "He's alive."

"Why the hell isn't he waking up?"

Sam's mouth tightened as he recalled those last moments before Cas's dream world collapsed. "Remember that light? Cas must have used his grace." Which had been running low to begin with. What if he'd used the last of his juice?

Dean swore under his breath. "Stupid son-of-a-bitch."

Sam grimaced. The fight hadn't exactly been going their way. Cas using his grace was probably the only thing that could have saved them at that point. But if he didn't recover from this…no, Sam couldn't think that way.

"Maybe he just needs to sleep it off?" he suggested.

Dean rubbed a hand down his face and muttered, "Angels don't sleep."

Sam glanced at Cas. Yeah.

He and Dean puttered around the room, going through the mindless motions of cleaning their guns and checking supplies. Sam nibbled at some crackers, but he wasn't that hungry, despite the fact they'd spent almost ten hours in Cas's dream world. Daylight relinquished its reins to night, and still Cas didn't wake.

Dean paced the room like a prowling lion, aggravating Sam's already frayed nerves. He'd taken his laptop and retreated to the other bed, scrolling through an online copy of Dante's Inferno, simply out of a morbid need to stay awake. Neither of them wanted to try sleeping. They ended up going through their coffee and Red Bull supply, now to simply avoid normal nightmares…and be up when Cas finally came to.

Sam ran his hands through his hair and flicked a sidelong glance at the comatose angel on the opposite bed. Cas had to pull through.

But by the next day, Sam was growing worried. What were they supposed to do? They couldn't stay in the motel indefinitely. Did they pack up and take Cas to Bobby's? Then what? If Cas had used up all his grace, would he be in a coma forever? Was he human now? Or was this just Jimmy's empty vessel?

Dean hardly spoke a word as he alternated between sitting by Cas's side and re-cleaning and assembling his guns a second, third, and fourth time. Sam eyed his brother furtively, but didn't say anything either.

It was mid-afternoon when a soft inhale finally issued from the still form.

Dean had been sitting by the bed, and surged out of the chair, almost knocking it over. "Cas?"

Sam bolted from the table and rushed around to the other side as Castiel's eyelids fluttered open. His shoulders sagged in relief. Thank God.

Cas blinked at them several times, lifting his head slightly in bewilderment before sinking back against the pillow. "You both made it." His eyelids began drooping again. "I'm…glad."

"Hey, no, stay awake." Panic laced Dean's voice, and he shook Cas roughly. "Don't go to sleep."

"Angels don't sleep," Cas mumbled.

"Then open your eyes. That's it."

Cas's blue irises gradually cleared of their cloudy film as they focused on them, and he cocked his head against the pillow in his usual perplexed mien. After a long moment of silence, Sam lifted his brows in expectation of a question, but Cas seemed to have withdrawn into himself.

"Dude, hey." Dean snapped his fingers in front of Castiel's face, earning another round of blinks. "No sleeping with your eyes open either."

Cas quirked a brow. "That seems highly problematic."

Sam smirked, relief and worry duking it out in his stomach. "How're you feeling?"

Cas slowly turned his head to take in the room, and then tried to push himself up on his elbows. He didn't get far before a groan escaped his lips and he squeezed his eyes shut. Sam and Dean grabbed his arms while Sam propped another pillow behind him.

"Take it easy," Dean said as they eased him back. "You alright?"

"I feel…" Cas squinted. "Unwell."

Sam's jaw slackened in surprise. An honest answer. That was either reassuring…or very unsettling.

"But you'll be okay, right?" he asked. "We killed the baku." And it'd apparently coughed up everything it'd eaten, so Cas should suffer no permanent damage…yet how would they know? It wasn't like Cas was a ball of happy, hopeful laughs normally.

Castiel was silent for a beat longer than Sam liked. "Yes…the baku's effects were undone."

Dean snorted. "The baku's effects? How about the effects of using your grace like a grenade? That is what you did, right? Dammit, Cas, do you even have any left?"

Cas didn't meet Dean's gaze, and Sam's pulse jumped. Shit, what if he had lost all his power?

"My grace is weakened," Castiel admitted guardedly. "But it will replenish…to a degree."

Sam exchanged a concerned look with Dean, whose face was turning red with barely controlled ire. But just when Sam thought his brother was about to go ballistic, Dean swallowed hard and smoothed his features. Pulling his chair closer to the bed, he took a seat and leaned his elbows on the mattress.

"Okay, time to talk. Sam's right; putting this off isn't doing any of us any favors. And we both owe you way more than that."

Cas tilted his head. "What are you talking about?"

"You falling, man. You need to be upfront with us about that shit so we don't get blindsided like this again."

Cas ducked his gaze, and Sam suppressed a sigh. Dean meant well, but he could be too abrasive about things. Sam grabbed the second chair from the dinette table and scooted it close to the other side of the bed.

"We're not blaming you, Cas. Look, I know this slowly falling thing isn't easy on you, and that you don't really know what to expect, but you gotta tell us what's going on or we can't help you deal with it."

Cas gritted his teeth. "It's fine."

"Bullshit." Dean fixed the angel with an irate glare. "You've been in a coma for almost a day since Sam and I woke up."

Cas's expression went lax with incredulity, eyes drifting down to his hands. Sam watched him flex his fingers tentatively, and frowned at the concentration on Castiel's face.

"Cas," Sam continued. "We're not saying you're weak, or useless, but you're not invincible anymore."

"I endangered you," Cas interrupted softly.

"No, that's not my point—"

"But it's mine," he ground out, finally looking up with a spark of chagrin in his eye. "I should have been able to defeat the baku when it first appeared. The fact that it got the better of me…" He glanced away, jaw tightening. "You and Dean are not supposed to protect me. I'm supposed to protect you."

"We protect each other," Sam insisted, and shot Dean a silent plea to help him out.

Dean shook his head in exasperation. "Look, man, I know I'm not really good at being in touch with feelings and all that crap. But Sam's right. You're going through some stuff right now, and we want to be there for you."

"You shouldn't have to be."

"Oh for crying out loud," Dean growled. "You've been there for us plenty of times; let us return the favor. So talk to us."

Castiel was silent for a long moment as he stared at a loose thread on the bed cover. "I don't know…" His face pinched. "What I am anymore."

Dean frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Cas sighed. "I'm barely an angel. Moloch may have been a figment, but he had a point—there is nowhere for a falling angel to go but down."

Dean shot Sam an alarmed look, but Sam didn't think this was some hollow despair left over from the baku's attack; this was something Cas had probably been wrestling with since the day he Fell. Sam should have seen it coming.

He gripped Cas's arm. "That's not going to happen."

Cas turned to him, the lines around his eyes crinkling. "I'm not human; I don't have a soul like you or Dean to return to Heaven when I die. Angels have grace, and mine is waning. If I'm not an angel anymore, then what am I?"

Sam didn't even have to think about it. "You're a Winchester. And I'm sorry, but baggage is kind of a requirement."

Cas sighed. "We are not related."

Sam's face fell; he'd really thought Cas had learned otherwise.

"But you are family," Dean said sharply. "Maybe you don't belong in Heaven anymore—though frankly, you don't belong with those dicks even if you weren't cut off. You belong with us. And Cas, just because you're falling doesn't change who you are."

"Yeah," Sam jumped in. "You can put all kinds of labels on me and Dean." He pointed to himself. "Boy with demon blood."

"Drunk, Hell's star torturer."

"But that doesn't define us. You said so yourself, what you see in us. Well, no matter what happens with your grace, or anything else, you're still our brother."

Dean leaned forward with that penetrating, no-nonsense gaze. "You hear us?"

Cas slowly nodded, that amazed and slightly pained expression on his face that meant he was grateful yet completely bewildered that anyone would think of him that way. One of these days Sam hoped he'd believe beyond a shadow of a doubt how much he meant to them.

"Yes, I understand."

Dean nodded. "Good. But you still need to tell us when your powers are on the fritz so we can work around it. We can't lose you, Cas." He jabbed a finger at the angel. "And that means no more self-sacrificing crap."

Sam had to agree with that. He never wanted to go through another night like the one they'd just had.

Castiel's forehead creased, but he didn't argue.

Dean slapped the edge the bed. "Okay, second chick-flick moment over. I think we've filled our quota for the year. Now let's go for pie."

Sam rolled his eyes. "That's not a chick thing to do? You want to hug first?"

Dean scowled. "Pie is not girly."

Sam bit back a snicker, but then had an idea. Smiling, he turned back to Cas. "Actually, I think Cas should try some ice cream."

Castiel gave him a funny look. "I haven't fallen far enough to require human nourishment."

Sam snorted. "Ice cream is about as nourishing as pie."

"Hey, bite your tongue," Dean clipped.

"Come on, Cas," Sam continued, ignoring his brother. "You'll love it. There are dozens of flavors to choose from."

"And toppings," Dean conceded.

Castiel seemed to think about it for a moment. "Alright," he said warily. "I suppose it couldn't hurt to try."

Sam made a mental note to warn Cas about brain-freeze.

He waited while Cas sat all the way up, watching for signs of dizziness or pain, but the angel seemed to be recovering at last. Sure, he couldn't jump to his feet with the flap of his wings—which Sam had a whole new appreciation for—but he was alive and back with them. And for the moment, they were headed out like a normal family doing a normal thing.

Well, as "normal" as the Winchesters could get with an angel in tow. Cas ended up flummoxed by all the ice cream choices while Dean tried to explain what each one tasted like.

"It tastes like…you know, bubblegum!"

"I don't believe bubblegum is digestible."

"Yeah, but it's just the taste. You know what, never mind. How about chocolate? You can never go wrong there. And sprinkles."

Sam grinned. Yeah, the world was ending, and they had no idea if any of them would survive, but as long as they stuck together, they had a chance.

Castiel found the taste of chocolate ice cream intriguing…and surprisingly pleasant. He didn't care for the sprinkles though, which crunched like chalky splinters of dirt in his mouth. Not that he told Dean that, after the hunter had gone to such trouble trying to find a flavor for Castiel to try. He suspected the point of the excursion was not the ice cream anyway, but the camaraderie they shared. Two boys, broken in their own way, yet together strong enough to stand against the forces of Heaven and Hell. And now an equally broken angel. But for the first time since he started falling, Castiel began to believe that the Winchesters had not only the fervent desire, but also the ability to catch him.