Well, we're on the last chapter of this story! I hope everyone enjoyed it! I'm glad you guys are so accepting of the major whumpage LOL :P Some stories just end up like that.

And thanks again to my beta Aini NuFire! Never would have posted this if she hadn't made me fix it up lol. If you want some S11 Cas feels read her current story "Dying is Easy, Living is Hard".

And of course, thanks so much to the readers and reviewers! You guys always make my day :)

Part Seven

Dean checked in on Sam one last time after taking care of Cas, making sure his brother was doing okay, then promptly crossed the hall to his room, leaving the door open so he could hear if Cas or Sam needed him, and then plopped onto the bed and was out within a second of hitting the pillow. He didn't even care that Naomi's body was still lying in their war room, he would take care of that tomorrow. He just needed to get some sleep.

He woke feeling stiff and sore, but rested at least. He hauled himself from bed, and realized he hadn't even bothered to change his clothes before he conked out the night before. There was some dried blood on them. He quickly grabbed a fresh change of clothes and wasted no time in getting into the shower.

Once he was clean he peeked into Sam's room, seeing the younger Winchester wasn't in bed. Frowning, he checked Cas' room next and found Sam there, sitting in a chair beside the angel's bed, a huge tome in his lap and several more stacked beside his feet, in the process of discussing something with Cas.

"Hey," Dean called as he stepped into the room, and two pairs of eyes turned to meet him. Sam's accompanied by a small, tired smile and Cas' turning away slightly. Dean chose to ignore that. "You two doing okay?"

"Well enough," Sam shrugged. He still looked bad and pretty sleep deprived, but that was kind of the norm lately. He didn't look fevered at least. "Cas and I were just looking into a few more resources to see what we could dig up on the Trials and-or Metatron."

"We've still determined that Colorado is a good place to start," Cas added, his eyes trained on the book in Sam's lap even though he was talking to Dean.

"Well, we'll head over there again as soon as we get a couple days to rest up," Dean replied. "I don't know about you two, but I could use a little R&R after the week we've had. Speaking of, anyone up for some coffee?"

"That would be great, I'll come with you," Sam said, standing up—still a bit shaky, but at least able to walk in a straight line today. "I was gonna get some breakfast anyway. We'll bring you a cup, Cas."

Dean knew Sam wanted to talk to him about something, and wished the kid had at least waited until he had gotten some caffeine into his system, but Sam started in on him before he even measured the water for the coffee.

"You need to talk to Cas, man. He's feeling horrible about last night," Sam told his brother.

"He say anything to you?" Dean asked, glancing over his shoulder.

"Well, I was kinda out of it last night so I asked him what happened," Sam shrugged. "He didn't really come out and say he felt guilty, but it's obvious. And your face looks pretty bad, by the way."

Dean sighed, having forgotten the bruises on his face would probably bother Cas, but there wasn't anything he could do about that. He wasn't about to let Cas use any more energy to heal him, even just a few bruises. "I know. We do need to talk. I just don't really know what to say without sounding like a total dick."

Sam huffed and shook his head. "Just talk to him, dude. I know things have been a little shaky between you two for a while, but he's still your best friend, you owe that much at least."

"I know." Dean watched the coffee gurgle into the pot as Sam turned and started rummaging through the pantry.

"We hardly have anything to eat," the younger Winchester said. "There's half of an old leftover burrito and some mustard in the fridge." He turned and pulled a nearly empty bag off the counter. "And end slices."

"I'll run and get some supplies after coffee," Dean said quickly.

"Dude, you're just using it as an excuse," Sam said.

"What, we need food! And there's no way you're driving in your condition," Dean told him, pouring his cup of coffee and sipping it gratefully. He wasn't hungry enough for dry cereal or end slices, so he just gulped the coffee and left for the store, ignoring Sam's laser stare pinned to the back of his head.

Yeah, he was using it as an excuse, Sam was right. Dean hated to admit it, but he really had no idea what he was going to say to Cas. He didn't know how to make the angel not feel guilty, and still not feel guilty himself. Cas was obviously avoiding him as much as he could, and Dean realized he was kind of doing the same thing. Maybe Cas was just as anxious about their much-needed talk as he was. Maybe he needed Dean to approach him first and in that case, if Dean failed to do so, then what? Would Cas just leave without a word like he had before? Dean couldn't let that happen. Naomi might be dead, but there were still plenty of angels out there gunning for him, and Crowley too if he decided he needed someone as leverage to get Sam to stop the Trials. Dean was disgusted that he was apparently such a coward that he was practically willing to lose Cas again just to avoid talking.

"All this touchy-feely crap is gonna kill me," he muttered to the bread as he grabbed a loaf and headed up to the check out.

Castiel gratefully drank the coffee Sam brought to him. While caffeine didn't really effect him, he found he had acquired the taste during his time with the Winchesters. It was a human vice he could accept falling for. In fact, he much preferred a good cup of coffee to liquor of any kind. And it was warming and comforting, which is what he needed then. His wounds still ached, though he could now feel his grace sluggishly healing them, and they were not the most troubling thing he had to deal with. He was hurting more mentally for the fact that he had allowed Naomi to get into his head again, and use him against Dean. After all the time he had spent trying to run from her, to keep himself protected from her manipulation, he had failed and Dean had been hurt again. Of course it could have been worse; he had been able to stop himself before he did the elder Winchester too much damage, but what if he hadn't? He was incredibly glad that angels didn't dream even while they were unconscious, because his mind had already been plagued by images of himself pinning Dean to the floor, his blade hovering over him. Castiel knew that if he hadn't been so weakened from his wounds, Dean never would have been able to hold him off. It would have been so easy to bury that blade in the hunter's heart…

"Cas?"

The angel started and looked up at Sam's concerned face. He realized he had been gripping his half full coffee mug with shaking hands as he gazed pensively into the dark liquid. He quickly set it aside before he spilled it. It had long gone cold anyway.

"Are you okay?" the younger Winchester ventured.

"I'm…fine," Castiel replied. Typical Winchester avoidance, he realized with some amusement.

Sam obviously saw it for what it was, and tactfully played along. "If you're in pain, we can try some Tylenol or something. It might help."

"Thank you, Sam, but I doubt it would do anything. My wounds are healing, it is just a very slow process."

"We should probably change your bandages," Sam said decisively, and closed the book he had been reading.

Castiel sighed, but nodded, allowing Sam to help him sit up and unwrap the bandages from his chest. Castiel grit his teeth as some of the ones on his back stuck to the dried blood and pulled when they came off.

"Well, they do look better than they did yesterday," Sam admitted, seeming relieved. "There's only a few really bad open spots on your back, and I think we could probably take the stitches out of the stomach wound tomorrow if you keep healing this well."

"That's good," Castiel replied. He would be leaving as soon as he had enough energy back to fly. Finish healing himself somewhere in seclusion where he wouldn't be a danger to the Winchesters. Dean hadn't been unkind to him, but Castiel knew it must be hard to look at the person who had beaten you nearly to death, then almost killed himself protecting you, only to beat you again. He believed that's what the humans called "mixed messages". He didn't want to put another burden on Dean's shoulders now and he was afraid that if he stayed too long the other angels would find him there, especially now with Naomi's death on his head.

"Cas," Sam said after a while as he put new gauze spread with antibiotic cream onto the wounds on Castiel's back. "You know Dean doesn't blame you for what happened, right?"

Castiel sighed. "He would have every right to."

"But he knew it wasn't you," Sam said earnestly.

"I still opened the door. I let her in," Castiel said ruefully.

"Yeah, but she was controlling you. We all know you would have stabbed her on sight if she hadn't been. She knew that too, otherwise she wouldn't have taken the precautions she did."

Castiel was silent as Sam rewrapped his chest and then went to get him a zip-up sweatshirt that would be easier to take on and off before helping him lay down in a comfortable position. The younger Winchester took up his book again and resumed his seat in the chair.

"Sam, you should be resting, you don't have to stay here with me," Castiel said with a frown, unable to help being touched by his friend's devotion even though he wished Sam would work on taking better care of himself.

Sam gave him a quick smile. "I can't rest when there's all this work to be done. I'm not delirious at the moment, which is a plus, and I just…I need to do this. I need to end these Trials, Cas. I can't let Kevin's death be in vain, and Dean…he can't take much more of this. He's hardly eating and I think last night was the first time he's gotten more than three hours sleep together in weeks."

Castiel furrowed his brow with a nod. "It pains him to see you suffering."

Sam swallowed hard. "I know. I try to hide it, but there's only so much I can do. I mean, even now, I feel like I'm starving but nauseous, my whole body aches, and I'm freezing and hot at the same time, but it's worse than a fever. Researching, figuring out the last Trial, that's the only thing that gets my mind off of it. Figuring out how to end this is what keeps me going. I can't just lay in bed and wait for something to happen."

Castiel nodded. "I understand. This…convalescing is rather tiresome, isn't it?"

Sam chuckled slightly. "Yeah, it sure is." He reached to the bedside table and pulled a file from a pile of research he had stacked there. "If you don't want to sleep, how about you help me take a look at Kevin's notes? Maybe you can make more sense of them than I can."

Castiel gratefully accepted the file and spread the papers out in front of him on the bed. After a few minutes of him and Sam puzzling over them, he realized that having something to concentrate on really did help put his mind at ease.

They had been at it for nearly an hour by the time they heard Dean return, clanking down the metal stairs and rustling around in the kitchen for a few minutes putting stuff away before he headed toward them down the hall and popped his head in the room.

"Hey." His eyes flickered cautiously over Castiel and the angel tried not to turn his eyes down this time, even though it was hard to see the bruises he had left on Dean's face. "I got stuff for sandwiches, if you guys want some."

"Thanks," Sam said and cast a meaningful look toward his brother that Castiel realized, uncomfortably, probably had something to do with him.

Dean looked away from his brother to the wall. "I, uh, need to go get rid of Naomi's body. Bury it out back, I guess." He left before Sam could say anything.

The younger Winchester seemed slightly perturbed by that, but he turned back to Castiel.

"How about we break for lunch? I'll make you a grilled cheese," Sam offered kindly.

Castiel shrugged in reply, figuring it wouldn't hurt to try and eat. It might help him recover some strength if he was utilizing more of his vessel. However, he considered that leaving sooner than he had planned might be a better idea. If Dean couldn't stand being in the same room as him, then it was probably best he leave.

Dean spent the better part of the afternoon burying the body and scrubbing the blood and the scorch marks from Naomi's wings off the floor. Then he quickly retreated outside to tinker on the Impala. Tomorrow, he promised himself, tomorrow he would talk to Cas. He just needed time to think about what to say. Yeah, right, the wait was really just making it all worse, but yet he couldn't quite make himself walk back inside and start the conversation. Maybe after a few beers he would work up the confidence.

But after the six-pack he had put in the cooler was gone, and Baby was shiny inside and out, he still couldn't decide what to say to Cas. Why was it so hard for him to talk to people? Especially people he cared about, and especially when the topics included tough subjects. A psychologist would probably have a heyday with him and his avoidance of emotional topics, but whatever. He just wasn't good at it.

What he was good at was avoidance. By the time he got back into the bunker, he found Sam sitting in the library scowling at him over his pile of research.

"Cas is resting," he younger brother told him.

Dean tried to shrug. "Good. He needs to rest. Get his strength back."

Sam sighed and slammed the book in front of him shut. "Dude, you promised him you would talk. I may have been out of it last night but I heard that."

"You would hear that," Dean muttered as he went over to the bar on the side of the room and poured some bourbon from the decanter. "Sammy, I'm trying to make sense of this in my own head before I talk to Cas. The last thing I want to do is say the wrong thing and make the situation worse than it already is."

"Dean, Cas doesn't need you to put on freakin' kid gloves for him, he just needs you to care enough to sit down and talk!" Sam replied, exasperated, before he cast a glance toward the dormitory wing, and lowered his voice. "He needs to know you don't blame him for what happened, and you're never going to convince him of that if you can't even stay in a room with him for more than two minutes!"

Dean slumped at the table and tossed back the liquor. "What do you want me to do, Sam? Magically become Dr. Phil? This kind of crap doesn't exactly come naturally to everyone, you know."

"Whatever," Sam replied, standing up. "I'm not gonna hold your hand or force you to do it, but Cas is my friend too, and I don't like seeing him suffer because my brother is a dick." He walked out of the room, and Dean was left sitting alone.

He sighed and got up to refill his glass.

Castiel had dozed off after helping Sam with the research, and when he woke, he could tell it was the middle of the night, for the bunker was quiet and dark. He sat up carefully, finding it wasn't quite as painful as before, but knowing his wounds weren't anywhere near healed enough for flying—their escape had nearly killed him. A tentative stretch of his wings told him that much. Even though they weren't on the same plain of existence, his back screamed in agony at even a twitch of feathers. It wouldn't really matter though. It wasn't a horribly long walk into town, and he would get a bus from there. He just knew that if he was going to leave, it would have to be now before the Winchesters woke up. He couldn't intrude any longer, they didn't need to be taking care of him too. He would go on by himself, heal, and then try to find some more information on Metatron for them.

Standing was a process, but he made it, and found his shoes at the foot of the bed. His torn and bloody trench coat was lying over a chair at the desk, and he swiftly put it back together. It took a little more energy than anticipated, but he couldn't leave it.

He crept as quietly as possible out to the main room, a shudder going down his spine as flashes of his one-sided fight with Dean came to him. He vaguely wondered if he should leave a note, but then decided against it. He took a deep breath and started up the metal stairs trying to keep his steps as quiet as possible, and then opened the door with a wince as it creaked. He looked out at the night for a long second. In fact, he stood there so long that he didn't notice the figure that had come to stand at the bottom of the stairs until he heard someone call his name.

"Cas?"

Dean woke with a start to the sound of the front door opening. Again. Flashes of Naomi appearing in the bunker and Cas beating him up like a robot puppet ran through his head, and he was out of bed instantly, gun in his hand.

He peeked in at Sam and saw him snoring slightly, sprawled on his back. Then he looked into Cas' room and saw it empty, just like last time.

Heart pounding, he hurried through the bunker and out to the war room where he felt a draft of air. He looked up and saw Cas standing in the doorway, looking out into the night. For a second he imagined another angel standing there with him, or maybe Naomi come back from the dead, but it was just Cas, wearing a newly repaired trench coat. Dean put his gun down and cleared his throat.

"Cas?" he called.

The angel started slightly, and his shoulders slumped before he slowly turned around, a guilty expression on his face.

"Cas, what are you doing?" Dean asked cautiously, walking up several steps. "Close the door, dude, it's freezing."

"I—I should go, Dean," Cas told him, head still canted toward the open door. "I think it's for the best."

Dean could have punched himself. Cas was actually planning on just walking out on them, and all because of him and his inability to have a conversation with anyone.

"Cas, no," Dean told him firmly. "You don't need to go. You're hurt, you shouldn't be out there. You can't even fight; what if more angels, or Crowley, found you?"

Cas shrugged and that made Dean furious. "Close the door, we need to talk."

"That's not necessary…"

"Like hell it's not," Dean ground out, finally gaining the top of the stairs and reached past Cas to slam the door shut himself. The angel looked slightly perturbed by this, but vaguely relieved as well as if he hadn't really wanted to go. Dean bit his lip and put a hand on Cas' shoulder. "Come on, man. Let's go talk."

Cas followed him down the stairs and to the library where they sat at the table and Dean poured them each a drink. Cas ignored his, but Dean downed half in one swallow. Then he sighed and looked across the table at the angel, but before he could speak, Cas had already beaten him to it.

"Dean, what happened the other night, I'm sorry I led Naomi to you, it was never my intention."

"Cas, I know that," Dean replied. "Seriously, man, you don't need to apologize, I'm pretty sure you saved my life this week multiple times."

"I might have missed something, but you seem angry about that," Cas pointed out, a frown appearing between his brows.

Dean sighed and ran a hand over his face. "I'm not…angry, Cas. I'm just…I hate to see you and Sammy sacrifice yourself for me. I mean, he's stuck doing these Trials because I screwed up, and you almost died because you thought you had to protect me from Naomi."

Cas narrowed his eyes at him. "I didn't think I had to protect you, Dean. It's my duty to protect you and Sam. It always has been, although now it is a pleasure to do so because you are my family, and not because I was ordered to. That's why it…hurt so much, what Naomi made me do. Why it was so…unforgivable." He looked away and Dean fought to find the right words to say. He reached out and clenched a hand around Cas' forearm. The angel seemed surprised by that and raised his eyes to look at the hunter again.

"Nothing is unforgivable if it wasn't your fault, and what Naomi made you do, the other night and in the crypt was not your fault, Cas. I know that, and I'm not angry about what happened. I mean, sure I wish it could have been avoided, but it wasn't your choice. And it only really hurt me because I knew how it would effect you."

Cas mulled this over for a while. "But I am supposed to be your guardian, Dean, I'm not supposed to hurt you, you're supposed to be able to trust me."

"And I do!" Dean insisted. "Cas, both times you were able to break through Naomi's hold on you, and that couldn't be easy. But listen man, there's no reason you have to feel you're in my debt."

Cas frowned, looking genuinely confused now. "In your debt? Why would you think I felt that way?"

Dean raised his hands. "I don't know, maybe because you let that feathered dick flay the skin off your back while you pretended you were actual body armor."

Cas' expression turned stormy now. "You still think I only protected you because I thought I owed a debt? Dean, Mendiel would have killed you if I had not stopped him. Why don't you see that?"

"Because I'm not worth it, Cas!" Dean snapped.

"You're worth it to me," Cas replied firmly. "And Sam. Dean, you are a natural protector, I see that, it was one of the things that first made me believe in you, but you have to allow others to do the same for you in return. I am an angel, and though I am a poor one, I was your guardian at one time and now I am your friend. You called me a surrogate brother; well, I think of you and Sam that way as well, and I deserve the right to protect you when I see fit. I am cast out of heaven, I don't have all the power I once did, and if this is the one thing I have left that makes me feel like I can still do a little good, then you have no right to take it from me. You and Sam are all I have, and I will protect you if I damn well please!"

Dean was shocked at Cas' angry reply. His eyes, though tired, flashed in determination and Dean just stared at him for a long moment until he blinked and shook his head slowly. "Okay."

"Okay?" Cas asked skeptically, eyes narrowing. "That's all you have to say?"

"Hell, Cas," Dean said with a sigh. "I'm beat, man. Just give me that for now, all right? But I hear you, and I guess I've been…selfish, or whatever you wanna call it. And you're right. I guess I need to start thinking about what everyone else feels too."

Cas raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You must be tired."

"What can I say, no one's ever threatened to protect me before," Dean replied with a chuckle.

Cas shrugged and gave a small smile in return. "You are unbelievably stubborn."

"Yeah, well, it runs in the family." He stood up and patted Cas on the shoulder. "Now, are you gonna stay or what? Because I don't think it's a good idea to go wandering around with your injuries. Besides, Sam and I need all the help we can get with the research."

Castiel smiled. "Very well, if you need me to stay, I will." He got up stiffly and started back toward the dormitory wing.

Dean was silent for a few seconds before he caved and called Cas back. "Cas."

"Yes, Dean?"

Dean shifted on his feet. "I didn't ask you to stay because Sam and I need you. I asked you to stay because we want you here."

A light came back to Cas' eyes. "Truly?"

"Don't make this into a chick-flick moment," Dean said, but smiled. "Yeah, dude. You're family, remember? Now, I think we all need a good night's rest. We still got a Scribe of God to find, so I'll say goodnight."

Cas nodded and smiled genuinely in return. "Goodnight, Dean."

The End

I've got another fic on the way for those of you who are curious! This one is set in S5 It has more protective and badass!Cas in it, and I will post the first chapter Friday, so check it out if you wish =D