Hey readers! I know it's been a while, and I'm sorry to leave you hanging for so long. Here's chapter 3, and rest assured that chapter 4 is already in the works. Until then, enjoy! And as always, I don't own Supernatural or any characters from the show.

From that day, Cas visited daily, making quiet conversation with Dean. It was refreshing to him, a welcome reprieve from the monotony of the hospital. The sound of wings became a welcome one, a clear bell on Sunday mornings.

Which was ironic- Cas was an angel after all.

Dean quickly learned that Cas wasn't the type of person to delve into mushy conversations of feelings. He was a jolt of a person, abrupt and final.

Dean appreciated the honesty that provided. Cas wasn't the type to sugarcoat anything.

Dean hated people who did that.

The visits passed in easy companionship, the two of them talking quietly or not talking at all. The atmosphere was different then, more friendly and less I'll-slit-your-throat-if-you-fucking-breathe.

The strangest thing, however, was the way Castiel's eyes never seemed to wander. They were always fixated on Dean or around Dean, and sometimes Dean could swear he saw flashes of electric blue in them before they returned to their ordinary storm-on-the-ocean color.

It was a little strange, but Dean could get used to strange. After all, his entire job and life were strange. Saving people, hunting things- dangerous, horrible things that went bump in the night and would have killed people if Dean hadn't gotten to them first.

Strange wasn't just in the job description, it was the job description.

Thinking of hunting made Dean miss Sam and Bobby more, a painful reminder of their forgetfulness. Dean wouldn't like to admit it, but he needed people and stability in his life. He missed people, as annoying as they could be.

Dean shook himself out of the daze that came from thinking about hunting and his family, refocusing his attention on the angel staring at him.

"Why do you do that?"

Castiel flicked his eyes down to Dean's face, his expression neutral and even.

"Do what?"

"Stare at me all the time. I mean, no offense, but it's a little weird."

Cas shook his head.

"I am sorry, Dean. I do not know much of the nuances of human interaction. I have not been in contact with your kind for long periods of time in my life."

"So, are angels just obsessed with staring at humans and thinking about the good ol' days? That sounds… pretty human."

Cas shook his head again, smiling.

"The life of an angel is devoted to divine purpose, serving God's will and carrying out his wishes."

Dean grinned.

"You've met God? The man upstairs? What's he like?"

"God is… absent from Heaven at the moment. We angels are maintaining our home until his return. We have faith in our father, and we know he will return."

Dean heard barely-concealed doubt beneath Castiel's voice, soft and sad.

"Cas… you're not okay with that, are you?"

Castiel huffed.

"I'm not happy with the way Heaven is changing in God's absence. We are supposed to be angels, denizens of peace and harmony. This is not the way angels are acting. Heaven has become divided, angels turning on angels, and war is coming. Everyone knows."

Dean laughed, stopping at Castiel's troubled expression.

"Oh, Cas. You're not the only one with family issues. I never told you how I got here."

"Dean, I do not need to know your struggles to cope with mine."

"Come on, Cas. It's called empathy. I want to help."

Cas hesitantly perched on the end of Dean's bed, angling toward him.

"I'm listening."

Dean took a deep breath before beginning.

"Well, clearly you know the whole 'pulled from Hell' story. You were apparently there. So I clawed my way out of the ground, got myself some provisions because apparently Hell makes a guy pretty thirsty. So I take care of myself a bit and go off to find my… family. I went to Bobby Singer's place first, since he's basically my dad anyway. He… didn't remember me. So I go find Sam, and he didn't either. We got in a fight and he called the cops on me, and I got sent here."

Dean paused, allowing his words to sink in.

"And then I met you."

Cas looked into Dean's eyes, which were shiny and bright.

"You're the only person to listen to me since I got here. The only person who remembers me. I'm starting to wonder if I really am insane. I mean, I am in a mental hospital after all. Maybe it's a good thing for me to rot in here."

Castiel's hand found its way to Dean's knee.

"You're not insane, Dean. I've seen you, and I have watched this earth many years. I know insanity, and you aren't insane."

Dean swallowed, his voice small.

"You're sure? You're sure I'm not insane?"

Cas nodded.

"Yes, Dean. I'm certain."

"Promise me, Cas."

"Promise what, Dean?"

"Promise you won't leave me. Promise you won't forget me. Promise you'll be the only one if it comes down to it."

"Dean… I shouldn't make those kinds of promises…"

A solitary tear slipped down Dean's cheek.

"Damn it, Cas, you're supposed to lie to me. You're supposed to make false promises that get my hopes into the sky and come crashing down when you leave me."

"Dean…"

Dean turned toward the wall.

"Fine, Cas. You… you should go."

The faint flutter of wings resonated in the room, and Dean was alone.

It wasn't like he was worth remembering anyway.