Cas' head tilted forward and Dean pulled the angel into a desperate embrace. Limp. He'd gone limp.

"No. No! Cas!" That horrible scene at Cold Oak played in his head. And it was Sammy's broken body that he cradled. Lifeless. Broken. As lifeless and broken as Cas suddenly seemed. Dean bit back a sob and felt a last shudder run through the body and then... silence. Dean held on so hard that he felt the air being pushed out of Cas' lungs and out of his mouth. The breath brushed against Dean's neck like a goodbye.

"No! No!" He shouted next to the Angel's ear and leaned his head against Castiel's. "You can't leave me alone here. Please don't leave me alone."

Cas felt so light and... small. So small. Smaller than he'd been a few hours ago, like the very life in him somehow took up space in the world. Dean sat like that for the space of several minutes. His arms trembled with the effort of suppressing his emotion. His chest hurt like a physical wound, like something heavy and broken lay inside him pressing against his sternum. He'd gotten so used to the weight. So numb to it, until his life added another burden and another.

Each one, an extra pound. And now Cas. He hugged his friend with a choked sob, and then forced himself to lay Castiel back down. The body flopped onto its side. Without the power there, he looked strangely like Jimmy Novak.

Dean stood up on legs that felt like they couldn't support him. He suddenly couldn't look at the silent, still body on the bed.

I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.

Dean splashed water on his face, trying to get his breathing under control. Cas. Cas gone. He absently touched his bicep. The one with the scar Castiel had left.

What's the matter? ...You don't think you deserve to be saved.

A lump rose in his throat.

My superiors have decided I've become too close to my charges...

I did it- all of it- for you.

So much gravity in the voice, like it had the import of Heaven behind it.

Dean thought of Cas pulling him away from Zachariah's nightmarish glimpse of a Croatoan future. He'd never been so glad to see his friend. "Don't ever change."

He dove for the toilet bowl and spat whiskey and bile. He was trembling so hard he couldn't move, kneeling like someone in supplication. The porcelain throne was only God he'd ever kneeled before.

He couldn't do this. He could not go out there and see the frail, limp body.

He took his frustrations out on the bathroom door- kicked it again and again. He wanted to rip it right off the hinges and hurl it out the window.

"Hey! Easy son!" Somehow Paul had re-entered without him noticing. Probably shouldn't have been a shocker since he was busy making noise bashing his boot through the wooden door. If this had been a Modern Hotel and not an ancient one, he probably would have punched through a mass produced hollow piece of shit in one shot. However, being that the hotel was built in the fifties, the door had stood up surprisingly well to some of the beating, taking quite a few blows before it splintered under Dean's boot.

Paul reached his hand out and seized Dean's plaid, pulling him away from the bathroom. "Son! He's gone."

Dean yanked his arm out of the vet's grasp, his lip curled into a snarl like a wounded animal. "I know that!"

Paul gestured to the bloody knuckles on Dean's hand "Don't add bodily injury to this, kid."

He closed in. Dean backed up, uncomfortable with the man's proximity. He looked like he was contemplating an embrace.

"Don't touch me, please." The hunter's voice was husky, desperate

Paul stopped his advance. Put his hands up in a placating gesture. "It's okay... the pain is over. It's over."

Dean swallowed and his jaw trembled, a tear coursing down his cheek. "Oh the pain is just beginning."

"For him. For him it's over. He's in heaven now, son."

"That's the last place he is. I'm certain of it."

"Son," he was suffering so badly. "Even if he'd made it, we're talking kidney failure, infections, surgeries, complications. You need to understand this, Dean."

"Paul," a tremor ran through Dean's frame. "I know you're trying to help but I'm... he swallowed at the lump in his throat. I'm pissed right now and...leave me alone before I hurt you, okay?"

"Okay, son." The vet's tone was patient. "Not really far I can go in this blizzard. Need me to go sit in the truck?"

Dean let out a half-hysterical laugh as he realized the absurdity of his own request. His life was so fucked. "Do what you want, man."

He was swept into a crushing embrace. "This is what I want."

Dean didn't fight it. Laid his head against the old man's shoulder for a moment and fought tears.

Paul let him go. "I'm gonna give you a moment."

He went back out into the storm.

Dean looked to the body. So still...so quiet. He approached cautiously. "Cas?" He whispered. "Cas? Please." He swiped at a tear. "Please, man."

I raised you from perdition.

It didn't matter if he was under orders and he took a whole freakin garrison of Angels with him. It had been Cas who had pulled him out. Cas who had reached him. And later it had been Cas who tried to come through, Cas who had offered some small measure of comfort. -Even if it was misguided and completely ass backwards half the time...he had tried.

Cas had betrayed heaven for him. And this is where it led. Another loved one dead, sacrificing themselves on the altar of Dean Fucking Winchester.

Dean crumpled onto the floor next to the bed and stared fixedly at the opposite wall with its shitty 60s wall paper. He wished he'd just fucking die. That an angel would come and smite him. He wouldn't even have fought it.

Another friend dead on his watch.

"Cas." The name hurt to say. He bowed his head, "Cas. Cas, please get your feathery ass back down here." He paused, as if waiting for a response. Then louder. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I need your help. I'm so sorry! I'm fucking sorry, alright!"

Another pause and then a soft exhale that Dean gave, almost a whisper. "Oh, Cas."

Castiel was in horrible pain. Pain that shot through his entire vessel and made him make noises from the back of his throat. Made his vessel weep and twist and cry out. Dean was moving him and that hurt even more and then his friend was hushing him and telling him lies and then there was...Nothing.

He was in pain again. But it was different this time. There was a disorientation where it didn't feel like he had lost time and yet something told him he had. The pain wasn't physical at the moment. It was something else. Perhaps he was hearing pain... not feeling it. Yes. That was it. He was hearing someone else in pain. It was familiar...

Dean? Dean's voice. Deep and wrecked and raw.

Cas. His name was dragging him back into existence. His name. Not his name. His name was Castiel. Had always been Castiel, until Dean had spontaneously nicknamed the angel Cas in the beginning of their acquaintance. He hadn't quite known what to think at that moment, hadn't known if it arose from affection or disrespect. Possibly both. One could never tell with Dean.

Cas. Cas. It had been spoken so many times. With affection. With anger. With desperation. With solidarity. And now. Now it was with grief. Now it had a weight to it, a broken, rasping heavy weight to it that he'd never heard before. Like the name itself brought pain. He wanted to soothe the pain. Needed to help. Help Dean Winchester.

It would be much more pleasant to go back to nothing.

"Cas." There was the name again. Castiel felt himself slide back into his vessel, like putting on an old suit.

He cracked his eyes open and drew a quiet breath. There was pain here. Being in the broken body was not pleasant. But it wasn't excruciating at the moment either. He felt some measure of Grace returning-like a partially charged battery or the beginnings of a sunrise. Glinting, glimmering, promising more.

Impressions came to him. Light from the window. The sheets under his body. Dean sitting on the floor next to the bed side, his face buried in the mattress next to Castiel's shoulder. Cas could see the side of his jaw clenched in an expression of utter ruin. His eyes were squeezed shut, his cheek wet in the light. He looked desolate. Cas moved his hand to Dean's head and lightly touched him as if in benediction.

Dean jerked his head up, eyes startled and wide. "Cas?" He half-sobbed the name, disbelief in the voice.

Cas watched his lower lip tremble. "Yes." His voice was gravel. "I'm... here."

"You... you..." Dean dashed away his tears with the back of his hand, only to have more replace them. "You were dead, man. You were gone, Cas... you were really gone."

Cas turned his head to lock gazes. "I believe so, yes." He said without emotion.

Dean staggered to his feet, and gaped at the angel, still unable to rein in his shock.

Castiel tipped his head sideways to study him. "Why are you weeping?"

"Because you were dead, dumbass." Dean scrubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand. "How...how are you even here?"

"You asked me to come back."

"Well yeah, but... "

"So I am here."

The confusion on Dean's face was profound. Cas winced at some of the pain returning to his vessel and gestured for his friend to draw closer. Dean leaned over the bed. "Yeah?"

"Don't you understand by now?" He asked quietly.

"Understand what?"

Cas reached up and brushed his fingers over the righteous man's temple. Green eyes reflected shock at the tenderness of the gesture, but he didn't pull away. "I always answer your prayers, Dean."

Dean barked out a half-laugh, half-sob and closed his eyes while Castiel watched him struggle to regain his composure.

"Yeah, buddy," he said swallowing hard. "I know you do." He stood awkwardly for a moment and then sat down on the edge of the bed. "You feeling better?"

Cas winced. "Yes... My Grace is slowly healing my vessel. It is still weak, but I can feel it now within me...a small light. But more than a flicker now. More like a candle."

Dean nodded, still looking oddly emotional.

"I think I need rest." Cas said, as if in disbelief.

"Yeah," Dean pulled the blanket up over the angel's chest. "You deserve some rest, Cas."

Cas tilted his head to look at his charge again, measuring the micro-expressions, feeling the weight on him. "You should call your brother."

Dean grew distant. "It's not that easy."

Cas winced again, a tightening of his jaw, a squinting of his eyes. The physical pain wasn't quite as profound as it had been but it was still there. The angel reached a hand out and placed it over the top of Dean's that lay folded near his lap.

The hunter raised an eyebrow. "You going to Propose?"

"Propose what?"

"Never mind." Dean did not pull away.

"Dean... when I was in pain you told me to 'take it easy.' That it was easy. But it was very, very hard." Cas said, remembering the oddity of the expression.

Dean blinked, the puzzlement apparent. "I'm not following your logic here."

Castiel looked through him with eyes like a troubled ocean. "You're in pain. Take it easy, buddy." He said in a fairly decent mimic of Dean's platitudes. "Take it easy and call Sam."

Dean snorted. The corner of his lips tightened into an almost smile. He kept his hand closed into a loose fist beneath Castiel's own. Castiel watched in fascination as Dean thought on his words. He had so much going on inside his heart and mind, it staggered Cas keep up with it.

"You know," Dean said. "Poor Paul is probably camped out in his truck, cursing us out right now."

"He is a good man."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "I got that." A flare of emotion lit his features again.

Cas patted the hand beneath his. "Easy, Dean."

Dean shook his head and swallowed hard. "You gotta stop it... That's just creepy the way you say it, Cas." But as he drew away, he squeezed Castiel's hand briefly with his own. "I'm glad you're back, buddy. You get some rest, okay?"

Cas blinked, suddenly obedient like a child. "Okay."

Dean stood up, drew back the curtains, and peered out of the window. The snow had slowed down considerably. "Storm's passing," he observed to no one.

Cas heard the dial tone of Dean's cell. A pause and then a tentative, "S'mmy?" Followed by a launch into "I found Cas... we're in the middle of Idaho in a Goddamn blizzard..." His back was turned to Castiel, hiding everything but the set of the broad shoulders, and the way he had his head bowed, but the emotion was plain in his voice. "He's pretty roughed up..." Dean swallowed, tilted his head and Castiel watched his jaw tremble slightly before he started again, his tone carefully neutral. "But I think he'll be okay now... No. I'm okay, Sammy. I'm okay, just... just taking it easy now." A pause, a crack in his voice. "Taking it easy..."

Castiel wanted to pull himself up, and finally managed to weakly prop himself against the headboard. It took a monumental effort. He watched in silence as Dean made the first cautious attempt to put the pieces of Sam and Dean back together. Cas knew, knew that they could not defeat this foe without the three of them in tandem. They were too weak. All of them were too weak individually. Especially Dean. Cas could sense the beginnings of battle fatigue in the man. A weakness, a weariness that would have made him pull one of his soldiers out of the fight. Except for Dean that wasn't an option. For Dean this was all there was. A fight he could not escape. A fight he was destined for.

And all Cas could do was bolster him up. Pull his own weight and maybe just a little bit of Dean's as well.

Dean ended the call and looked at his phone blankly.

"How is Sam?"

"He's... he's fine."

"He's always ready to forgive, Dean."

"Yeah...but I'm not."

Cas' brow furrowed in consternation. "Pride goes before a foolish man."

Dean smiled. "Never said I was smart." He looked to Cas. "Hey there, Lazarus. I think you need to stay lying down. " He strode over and took Cas' arm.

The angel looked at him in mild surprise. "I'm on the bed."

"-Sitting up. Lie down. I don't need you passing out and falling on the floor or something." Dean took him by the shoulders and eased him down onto the pillow. "Down...until your Grace, like, recharges or whatever it does."

Castiel looked up at Dean without guile. "Thank you, Dean."

The hunter's eyebrow raised. "For helping you lie down? Not a big deal there, man."

"You saved me. I was abandoned by everything, by Heaven itself and you came for me."

"What kind of douche would I be to just abandon you? You pulled me out of Hell, Cas."

"I was under orders." Castiel protested.

"You know, I don't care why or how you got me out. You got me out. That's all that counts. I'm out now and it's 'cause of you."

"Friend." Cas said with a hint of wonder. " I thought we were merely allies but we are friends. You're my friend, Dean."

Dean nodded, his expression unreadable.

"Angels do not have friends in the same sense. Friendship is a very human construct."

Dean was still looking at him.

Cas knitted his brow. "Dean?"

"Yeah?" Dean asked, his voice thick. "You done with the philosophy 101, Kant?"

"I'm sorry... I won't speak of it again." Cas said, guessing that something he said had upset his friend.

"You can speak all you want, Cas. I'm just really tired." Dean pulled the sheets over Castiel's chest and gave a faint smile. Smiles were so deceiving. Dean hid so much behind that smile, employed it in so many situations. Rarely was it out of happiness. Strange how a smile could be sad. "Get some sleep."

"I should get some sleep because you're tired?"

"Yes." Dean replied. "All parents do this. That's why nap time was invented."

"That seems... odd."

"Seriously, you should rest. Human bodies need rest."

"And human minds?"

"They need rest too."

Dean started to put his hand on Cas' head, thought the better of it and pulled away. Intimacy was only allowed when very ill, Cas noted in puzzlement.

"I'm going to go see if Paul is okay and try to explain why you're suddenly alive when he comes in. Do me a favor and act sick when you see him."

Cas cocked his head. "Why would I do that?"

"Because spontaneous resurrection doesn't happen often in the human world, Cas. Let's tone down the weirdness level from like an 11 to a 5, okay?" Dean grabbed his green jacket off the bed and shrugged it back on.

"Okay."

"And Cas."

"Yes, Dean?"

"Thanks for answering my prayers, buddy." Without waiting for a response, Dean took a deep breath to prepare for the cold, opened the door and stepped outside into the swirling snow. It came down in softly descending flakes to rest upon his shoulders like fallen angels. Cas watched the Righteous Man in wonderment before Dean moved, sending the flakes cascading off of him as he reached over and gently closed the door.

The End.

Finally. Special Thanks to Alex for helping me out so much with this one. Please drop me a review, even if you're stumbling upon this way after I posted. I'm always thrilled to hear from readers... and if you liked this, check out my other SPN fics by clicking on my username.