A/N: I literally have no excuse for this than pure destiel whump and my own personal torment. So, yeah, this is me dabbling with destiel haha. Also, this helped clear up some of the writer's block my damned finals had torn from me. ; ~ ;

"C'mon man," Dean whispered, practically begged, the hunter pushing back Castiel's sweaty hair. "You need to stop bleeding…can't you stop bleeding?" Cas didn't reply as he was unconscious yet again. It was solemn fact that Castiel couldn't heal himself, bringing Dean more worry. It was Amara's work—the work of a God. Cas was as weak as a human, and he was still bleeding through the white bandage Dean had wrapped around his chest. He kept going in and out of consciousness, the blood loss taking a huge toll on his vessel.

Dean frowned deeply, his fingers idly carding through his friend's hair. It was intimate—too intimate for the likings of Dean Winchester but he didn't care anymore. He was scared…so scared.

Amara had answered his prayer…She had willingly given Castiel over to him, no questions asked. However, Dean couldn't help but feel like a mouse in a trap…

…Mouse…I'm the mouse…

Dean's fingers tightened their hold of Castiel's rogue locks, the angel's wince the only thing bringing him to his senses. "I'm sorry," He murmured and smoothed Cas' hair back down, the angel's eyebrows furrowed as if he were in a nightmare.

To be honest, they all were in a nightmare.

Dean couldn't get hold of Sam, his younger brother's cellphone not going through…

I'm sorry, the number you are currently trying to call is either out of order, or no longer in service. Please hang up and try again later.

Dean gulped just thinking about it, his fingers trembling upon Cas' sweaty skin. The angel stirred, his eyes opening in tiny slits.

"Dean," Castiel breathed, the name barely a whisper. Dean's eyes widened and he forced a stiff smile.

"Hey bud," The hunter said, his voice rough. Castiel's eyebrows furrowed and he tried to sit up, Dean helping him plop up against an equally sweaty pillow. The angel looked around as if in a daze, wincing when his chest roared in protest. He about crippled over in pain, Dean catching him in the nick of time.

"Whoa there," Dean huffed. "You've lost a lot of blood; too much blood. If you were human you'd probably be in a coma…or worse." Cas tried to focus on his friend's words, on him, but his vision kept going in and out of focus, his vessel seemingly on the verge of destruction.

"I am no man," The angel murmured unhelpfully and Dean rolled his eyes.

"No shit there, Eowyn." Cas looked even more confused, his head cocking to the side, a small smile cracking through his pain.

"…Even now you jest, even in such darkness." Cas' smile fell as his fingers pressed against the words engraved in his chest, Dean frowning deeply.

"What were you doing, Cas? Alone?" The injured angel looked at his friend softly, a twinge of fear deeply embedded in his ocean blue eyes.

"I heard angels…" Cas looked away, as if ashamed. "They were plotting against Amara…I wanted to check it out—"

"—No Cas," Dean said quickly—too quickly. "They were annihilated by Amara; completely and utterly destroyed. You cannot go near her—ever." Dean's eyes were wide with fear and Castiel's thigh throbbed where Dean had grasped onto it, the hunter's hand trembling in ways that reminded the angel of the broken man he had saved from Hell.

"Dean," Cas said softly, his hand coming to rest over Dean's own. Dean didn't pull away, and the tremors lessened. "I would be a liar to say I am not afraid…I have never felt so small. She came so quickly. I-I…" Cas stopped, his voice cracking. He closed his eyes, feeling Dean's boring into him. Suddenly Cas' back stiffened straight as a rod, his eyes opening wider than Dean had ever seen before—like he remembered something greater than anything else in the whole world—Dean's world.

"Sam," Castiel breathed and Dean's life seemed to be tearing apart at the seams. With that one word Dean was visibly shaking. "Where has he gone? It's so dark…so cold, Dean." The angel gripped onto Dean's upper arms, the hunter sure that he was the one holding them both up.

"I-I made a mistake," Dean croaked and Cas' eyes widened impossibly wider, the blue teary. "It is all my fault...I told him to wait—wait for me, but Amara…" Dean gulped, hot tears flowing down his face unashamed, raw. "…Oh-oh God. What do I do? God, what am I supposed to do?" Dean buckled in on himself, the wounded angel shocked to find Dean Winchester upon his knees before him, his face hung low and fingers clinging onto his dirty trench coat.

Cas looked down at him in horror, his pains forgotten as Dean's wellbeing overcame his own. The angel wrapped his arms around Dean's shoulders, embracing him as tight as his wounds would allow. "Dean, Dean," The angel practically sang, his hands rubbing and soothing the best that they could, feeling how Dean's muscles and bones trembled beneath them. The only sounds that Dean could muster were the most tormented sounds a human could ever produce, on par with the sounds of tormented souls in Hell itself.

Castiel wanted it to stop. He needed it to stop.

The angel buried his face into the crook of Dean's shoulder, his eyes making a wet mess of the hunter's suit. "…I'll save him," Cas promised him, pressing his lips into Dean's damp hair. "I will do whatever it takes to bring him back." The only answer he received was the tightened grip on his trench coat, and the feel of hot blood gushing into the white gauze upon his chest.

It was enough. It was enough to have anger flow through him sharp as any blade.

Castiel had promised himself long ago that he would never allow Dean to ever revert to the tormented soul he had witnessed writhing in perdition. This Dean was awfully close…So close that his grace cried out in horror. So close that Dean's shoulder glowed a light heavenly blue beneath his thick suit. Dean no doubt felt it, their connection, for his hand had released Castiel's coat to brush against the rough fabric, the itch terrible.

Castiel's eyes glowed Heaven's blue, his promise bright within his eyes. His stomach protested as his grace tried to stitch it back together. He closed his eyes, his eyelashes wet.

He would save Dean's world, even if it meant severing his own.