So last week I polled people on Tumblr to ask which of my Whumptober prompts from last year they wanted me to make into a full one shot, and, to no surprise, Cas whump was what was voted for XD So this is an extended version of the ficlet I wrote for the "Bedridden" prompt in the 2018 Whumptober. I hope you guys all enjoy the hurt with twice the comfort ^_^

This is set during S8 but let's pretend Cas never got mind-whammied and he moved directly into the bunker with the boys.

Break

A Supernatural Fanfic

Castiel looked up at the towering evergreen trees surrounding them. The air was cool and damp and held the fresh scent of pine and balsam. It would be incredibly peaceful and he would have loved to spend hours out here, wandering through the trees, if it wasn't for the fact that they were currently hunting a wendigo.

Indeed, the peacefulness was almost too peaceful. All the birds and other wildlife completely silent as if not wanting to attract the attention of the monster that was haunting their environment.

Castiel's companions on the other hand, weren't all that worried about making noise.

"And you're sure this is the area those hikers were supposed to have been camping in?" Dean asked Sam.

Sam held up a GPS which had the coordinates they had gotten from the Ranger's station on it. "Yes, Dean. This is where they were supposed the be."

Castiel looked around, searching for any sign of the missing hikers. Considering the other missing persons reports, where nothing but a few abandoned, or wrecked campsites had been found, they had little hope of finding the campers alive out here. But so far, they'd found no trace of anything, not even camping supplies.

The sound of laughter echoed through the silent forest, and Castiel held up a hand to get Sam and Dean to halt.

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"I hear…voices."

"Is it the wendigo?" Sam asked in a hushed voice.

Castiel closed his eyes, concentrating. "No. I don't think so. There's several voices, they all sound… happy."

"Well, wendigos rarely imitate happy sounds," Dean said, reaching into his duffle for his flare gun.

"It must be the hikers," Sam said and they took off in the direction of the voices.

They were relieved to see, not a wendigo, not dead bodies, but three young people, chatting and setting up tents in a clearing. They looked up, startled, to see the hunters enter their camp site.

"Who are you?" a young man asked.

Dean reached into his coat and pulled out his FBI badge. "FBI. I'm afraid we're gonna have to ask you to leave. There's a killer on the loose and it's not safe out here."

A girl stepped forward, eyebrows raised. "A killer?"

"Yes," Sam said. "Haven't you heard about the other disappearances up here?"

"Well, yeah, but people go missing in the woods all the time…"

"Come on, we really should go," said another girl, who looked more appropriately worried, already packing up her tent.

"Good choice," Dean told her. "You all head straight back to town, you hear me? You can go camping later when we catch this guy."

They stayed to make sure the kids were doing as they said, packing up their camping equipment before Castiel started to feel a chill creep into his body out of nowhere, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as if there were someone watching him. He had the terrible feeling it wasn't just an idle thought.

He spun around and thought he saw something shift between the trees further away. It may have been nothing, but the feeling didn't go away.

"Dean," he said quietly and jerked his chin toward the area.

The hunter turned and inspected the area for a few seconds. "I don't see anything."

"I can feel it," Castiel murmured. "The whole forest is silent, the animals hiding. It's close."

Sam looked over at them from where he was standing a little bit to one side and his brows pinched as he seemed to see the urgency. He turned back to the campers. "Here, we'll help."

Castiel and Dean set to helping them as well and within minutes the camp was packed back up and the hikers were traveling back down the trail.

Castiel felt a little better knowing that the civilians were still alive and on their way out of the forest. Now they just had to make sure the wendigo turned its focus on them instead.

"Come on," Dean told them and took the lead.

Castiel continued to feel the thing watching them. Sam and Dean could obviously feel it too. They constantly whipped their heads around, every noise a gunshot in the silent woods.

"Help!"

They all stood stock still at the terrified scream.

"Help us! Help!" That shout ended with a pained scream.

"You don't think it's the campers?" Sam murmured.

Dean shook his head. "It's playing us. They would be too far away by now." He looked around. "Only question is where."

"It doesn't matter, it will find us all the same," Castiel said and closed his eyes, trying to use his angelic senses to locate the wendigo.

It moved in the woods to their left and he opened his eyes again, pointing.

"There. It's there."

"It knows we're coming," Sam warned.

"Yeah, which is why we're ready for it," Dean said and checked his flare gun.

Sam did the same and Castiel slid his angel blade into his hand. It was always his preferred weapon and would work well enough against a wendigo.

They made no point creeping through the woods, knowing the wendigo knew exactly where they were.

A rush of wind and a rustle of underbrush told them it was closing in. They spun around, standing back to back as they circled slowly, watching every movement in the trees.

And then the wendigo dropped from a tree directly in front of Castiel.

"Holy crap!" Dean shouted, spinning around and raising the gun as Castiel simply leapt to one side, avoiding the lightning-fast claws that swept out to gut him.

Before Dean could shoot though, the wendigo sped away and the hunter cursed and lowered his weapon. The three of them regrouped, forming a tighter circle.

"Can anyone see it?" Sam asked.

"No," Dean growled, just as the wendigo appeared again. Dean stepped forward. "There you are, you bastard."

He shot, but the wendigo was already leaping to the side, behind a tree, only to reappear next to Dean.

"Dean!" Castiel and Sam both shouted at once as the hunter spun around just in time and lunged out of reach of the wendigo's clawed hand.

Dean came up spitting dirt and leaves as the wendigo gave a screech of anger and Dean hurriedly spun over onto his back, scrambling for his flare gun, which he must have lost in the fall.

"Sammy!" he cried. "Shoot!"

The younger hunter ran up and took the shot. Dean ducked, and Castiel shielded his face, expecting a burst of flames, but the wendigo was, once again, too fast. The flare slammed into a tree trunk nearby and the wendigo spun around, lashing out at Sam.

"Sam!"

Castiel flung himself between the thing and Sam, and the wendigo's claws raked across his chest. He grunted, the pain ripping through him, but struck out with his angel blade, managing to score a deep wound across the wendigo's ribs.

It didn't like that at all. It shrieked, and made a grab for the angel. Castiel wasn't able to dodge out of the way before it caught him by the arm and slammed his back against the trunk of the nearest tree.

He hit so hard that the tree trunk cracked. Castiel's world exploded at the same time Dean finally retrieved his gun and shot the wendigo in the back.

Castiel collapsed at the base of the tree as the forest lit up with the burning wendigo, its shrikes of agony and fury like a distant buzz to Castiel's ears. All he could hear was his ragged breathing and the pounding of his own blood in his ears. He tried to move, but his back was agony, and his legs…

His legs felt like nothing at all.

He tried to push himself up onto his elbows but gave up, biting back a cry; every movement causing agony to rip through him. So he simply lay there, seemingly unable to do anything else. Something was very wrong, but his mind was so muddled with the pain, his body and grace both in shock, that he couldn't figure out what.

It was only then that he heard Sam and Dean shouting for him, their footsteps pounding across the forest floor.

He felt them slide to their knees beside him, Dean's hand on his shoulder.

"Cas!" he called. "What's wrong, man? Are you okay?"

Castiel finally forced his eyes open, looking up at the brothers, seeing their worried expressions. He took several breaths, each one putting unwanted pressure on his injured back, then whispered, "I—I can't feel my legs."

Dean's expression went from concerned to horrified. Sam swallowed hard, and carefully reached out for the hem of Castiel's coat, lifting it up to see his back. He reached out and ran a hand down his spine and Castiel inhaled sharply as Sam's hand came in contact with a very tender spot. Pain so bad it made him sick jangled through his nerves and he let out a keen. Castiel couldn't see Sam's face from the position he was lying in but he could hear Sam's horror and worry as he simply said, "Dean."

Dean squeezed Castiel's shoulder and leaned over to see what Sam was looking at. Castiel wanted to see too, see how bad it was. He tried to shift, but agony tore through him with renewed vigor and he cried out. Dean gripped his shoulder tightly, pressing him against the ground.

"Cas, Cas, just relax, man, oh god," Dean's voice wavered and he sat back on his heels, running a hand over his face and turning to Sam who looked like he was going to be sick. "What are we gonna do? Can we even move him?"

Castiel was getting tired of their talking over him. "What's wrong?" he ground out.

Sam turned to him, eyes wet. "Cas, your…."

Dean sighed. "Cas, we think your back's broken."

Ah, yes, that made sense. The agony, the deep snap he had felt hitting the tree, the fact he couldn't move his legs.

And then the horror outweighed the logic and he felt automatically trapped. He instinctively tried to move again, but both Sam and Dean gently put their hands on him to keep him from doing so.

"Don't move, Cas, please," Dean said. "You'll just hurt yourself more."

"I want to go back to the bunker," Castiel told them, pleaded. He certainly didn't want to be out here. What he had called peaceful earlier, now seemed like a possibility of danger. Too much like Purgatory. There had been a wendigo, what else might be out here? What might like to take advantage of a wounded angel who could hardly even drag himself across the ground?

"Cas, we don't know if moving you is the best idea," Sam told him gently. "Can you…how quickly do you think you can heal?"

Castiel closed his eyes, forcing back the panic as he fought to get his grace to work. "Not quick enough. I'm still not…after Purgatory, my grace…it works but it's not as strong as it used to be. I'm still recovering from the ordeal."

Dean set his jaw and seemed to come to a decision. "Okay then, we'll carry you out. Sam, help me make a litter."

"Dean, this isn't just a dislocated shoulder or a busted ankle, his spine is broken!" Sam protested.

"Yeah, and Cas will be able to heal in time," Dean said and glanced at the angel for confirmation. "But I'll be damned before I let him do it out here. He needs someplace safe and comfortable."

Sam seemed to realize then and nodded, touching Castiel on the shoulder gently before he got up to help Dean.

Castiel watched them lash branches and small saplings together with rope into a flat, long board as quickly as possible. Once it was done, they carried it over to Castiel and set it down behind him.

"Okay," Dean told him firmly. "I'm not gonna lie, Cas, this is probably going to hurt like a son of a bitch. But we're gonna try to be as careful as possible, okay?"

Castiel blinked. "Okay."

Dean looked up at Sam and they nodded to each other. They crouched, Dean at Castiel's head, Sam at his side, and they bent to slide their hands underneath him. Castiel could feel Dean's beneath his shoulders, one supporting his neck, but though he could see Sam's hands on his hip and knee, he couldn't feel them. Panic set in again at his predicament and he swallowed it down once more. He would heal. He knew he would. He just had to keep reminding himself of that.

Then he could think of nothing but agony.

Dean gave a count, and on three he and Sam rolled Cas onto his back on top of the makeshift litter.

He screamed. He couldn't help it, the pure, horrifying torture of being moved overcame any self-control he had left. He could feel his broken spine shifting as he was laid out flat on his back, the hard and lumpy branches beneath him only adding to the agony.

He was sure he had blacked out for a couple seconds because he had come to with Sam gripping his hand and Dean's hands on either side of his head, thumbs rubbing soothingly against his temples.

"You're okay, buddy, you're okay, it's over," Dean said, his face pale and tight. Castiel could only let out a whimper in response.

Sam and Dean then took off their belts and used them to buckle Castiel to the board. Castiel really didn't like this, being strapped down, unable to move, but he also knew that any shift could further his injury.

"Sorry, Cas, but we can't risk you moving," Dean told him. "It will only do more damage."

Castiel gritted his teeth against the pain and the general discomfort. He didn't know how he could be more damaged than he already was. He had to keep reminding himself that he would heal if he only calmed down and waited for his grace to recharge and get over the shock of the injury. He knew he was in a better position than any human but still…

Sam and Dean picked up the litter and started off through the woods, carrying him as carefully as possible so as not to jostle his broken body.

It was a long way back to the car, made longer by the fact that they were carrying him. Castiel simultaneously wished they would stop and wished they would hurry but kept silent, closing his eyes against the agony every one of their footsteps caused him.

And it wasn't over. When they finally did get back to the car, the dilemma was getting him inside.

"There's no way he'll be able to stretch out, it's not big enough," Sam noted as they gently set him on the ground.

Dean bit his lip, looking between Castiel and the now open backseat of the Impala. "We can at least keep his back straight. That's the best we can do."

"Dean…"

"Sammy, we can't take him to a hospital, a couple more hours and he'll start miraculously healing."

Sam shook his head quietly, not seeming happy about any of this.

"Please," Castiel finally spoke up and the two hunters looked down as if surprised to see he was still conscious. "I want to go back to the bunker."

Dean went into action then, throwing their stuff in the trunk and grabbing a blanket. He nodded to Sam and they knelt, spreading the blanket out beside Castiel.

"Okay, we're going to lift you on this, Cas," Dean told him as he and Sam got ready and they carefully lifted Castiel onto the blanket. He tensed, but it wasn't so bad as the first time.

Then came the process of getting him into the car.

"How are we going to do this?" Sam asked helplessly.

Dean glanced back at the open door. "I'll go backwards, we'll try to keep him as straight as possible."

Sam set his jaw, but they had no other options. Dean took hold of the blanket at his feet and Sam at his head and they kept it as tight as possible as they lifted. It still bowed through, and put added pressure on Castiel's back. He groaned and bit his lip to bleeding as they started shifted him carefully back toward the Impala.

Dean carefully stepped inside the car, sliding along the seat, his arms shaking as he fought to keep the blanket as level with Sam as he could.

Then inevitably Dean slipped, one foot falling out the other door before he was ready for it and Castiel nearly fell onto the seat. The jolt sent excruciating pain ripping through him, almost more than the initial injury, going right up his back and into his skull, threatening to make him fall unconscious. He wished he had. He screamed over the cursing coming from the brothers, and then thought he may have blacked out after all, because the next thing he knew, he was lying across the bench seat, Dean gripping his hands and saying, "Sorry, Cas, god I'm sorry."

He had no breath to reply either way, and simply lay there panting as Sam and Dean tried to make him as comfortable and secure as possible. They got him lying as straight as they could by tucking another blanket under his side that rested against the back of the seat, and Sam rolled up another blanket and carefully put it under his neck as a cradle to keep his head straight. Dean gently tucked his knees up so they could close the door. It obviously wasn't ideal, but they could do nothing else.

"Okay, let's get you back home," Dean told him and closed the door.

Castiel moaned as Dean and Sam got into the front seat and Dean started the Impala. He drove as fast as he could while still keeping from jostling Castiel in the back. At least there were a lot of straight roads, but unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about any bumps in the road.

Castiel drifted after a while, the pain dulling his mind and making his eyes close. He finally fell into an unconscious state, hoping that his grace might start working again by the time he woke up.

Dean glanced in the rearview mirror at Cas, seeing his eyes closed. He thought the angel might be asleep or unconscious. He hoped that meant that his grace would start healing him. But the problem was Cas hadn't been quite the same since Purgatory. He didn't know if it was getting out of the godforsaken place, or leftover whatever from taking on Sam's Cage scars. Either way, Cas certainly hadn't been on the top of his game, and had overtaxed himself on several occasions while using his power. Since he had been hunting with them, Dean had also realized that he'd been healing slower too. None of that boded well for this recovery.

But he did the only thing he could at the moment and drove. They could at least get Cas home.

Thankfully it was only a two hour drive back to Lebanon and Dean made it in less time than that. He cringed as he pulled up in front of the bunker. There was no way in that didn't involve stairs. Couldn't those Men of Letters have put in an elevator or something?

Sam was out of the car the instant they stopped. "I'm going to go check the infirmary for a stretcher or something we can carry him on," he said.

Dean nodded and turned around to look at Cas again. The angel was deathly pale. He was also covered in blood from the gouges across his chest from the wendigo. Dean had almost completely forgotten about that but those also weren't healing and they would need to be tended to as well. He reached out and gently put a hand on Cas'.

"Hey, man. We're at the bunker. We're gonna get you inside."

Cas stirred and moaned, eyes barely opening. He didn't say anything and Dean swallowed hard. This was bad. He'd seen the angel hurt before, but this? There was just something wrong about seeing him like this.

Sam came hurrying out of the bunker then holding a backboard and a neck brace.

"Dean! I found these!"

Dean nodded in relief as he got out of the car and opened both the back doors. He and Sam positioned the backboard into the space between the front and back seats of the Impala so they could easily shift Cas onto it. Sam gently strapped the neck brace on to keep his head straight and then they lifted Cas yet again. The angel let out a low keen, but thankfully Dean didn't drop the angel this time.

It was still difficult getting the board out of the Impala, but at least Cas was flat on it and it wasn't doing any more damage.

They carried Cas down the stairs into the bunker as level as possible and took him to the angel's room. Dean felt a pang as he remembered Cas originally protested the need of a room since he didn't sleep. Now Dean was glad they had insisted.

This time moving Cas wasn't so bad. They just had to set the backboard down, roll him as gently as possible on his side and slide the board from under him.

Dean left the neck brace on instead of resting Cas on a pillow. The angel's face was still tight with pain, his eyes closed. Dean looked up at Sam who was also watching their friend with worry on his face.

Sam cleared his throat after a second and shifted away from the bed. "I'll—I'll go get the supplies. Some of those wounds will need stitching."

Dean nodded and turned back to Cas. He reached out to loosen his tie, pulling it off so he could unbutton the angel's shirt and see the damage from the wendigo's claws. Cas let out a soft moan and Dean, paused to squeeze his shoulder gently.

"Hey, man, it will be okay. Sam and I are just gonna patch you up. Are you healing at all yet?"

Cas closed his eyes again and licked his lips. "My grace was in shock from the injury. It's weak. I'm weak. I don't know how long…"

"It's okay, it will be okay," Dean told him gently, glancing up as Sam came in with a tray full of stuff. He set it on the bed next to Cas and Dean went to grab cloths to clean the blood away.

The wounds in Cas' chest were deep and would need stitches, especially since the angel wasn't currently healing. Dean also wanted him to only have to worry about healing his back. They could worry about the rest.

He and Sam both worked on the sutures, and when they were finished they just taped patches of gauze over his wounds, not even considering attempting to wrap bandages around him. Dean would have liked to get him out of the uncomfortable bloody clothes too, but he knew that would only cause Cas more pain.

His hands started to shake as he taped the last bandage down, the enormity of the situation finally coming to light now that they were home and he wasn't running on excess adrenaline from the hunt anymore.

He swallowed hard and looked down at his bloody hands. "I'll be back." Then he retreated to the bathroom.

Dean took a steadying breath as he washed his hands in the sink, scrubbing them until he had gotten all the blood off. A few doors down, he could hear Sam getting Cas situated, trying to get him as comfortable as possible.

He had to fight the urge to vomit as his mind flashed back to the harrowing hunt for the umpteenth time: The sickening crack that sounded out when Cas hit that tree—at first he'd thought it had been the tree itself, but no. The feeling of terror when Cas didn't get up, when he finally got a hold of his damned flare gun and scrambled to his feet to end the thing. He and Sam both running over to Cas' crumpled figure once the thing had burnt to a crisp.

And worse, Cas' horrified face as he whispered, "I can't feel my legs."

Dean realized the water was still on and angrily twisted the tap, gripping the sink to take some steadying breaths.

The wendigo had broken Cas' friggin' back. Dean still almost couldn't believe it. This was one of the moments he was damned grateful Cas was an angel because otherwise he would probably be dead or at least permanently paralyzed.

Dean knew he would heal eventually, of course, but that didn't change the fact that Cas was in obvious agony, and that getting him back to the bunker had probably only caused more damage his already weakened grace was going to have to repair. But they'd done what they could, now all they could do was get him as comfortable as possible and hope that now that he was home and safe, he could rest so his grace could start working to heal him.

Dean again fought back to urge to vomit, remembering Cas' screams of pain when they had lifted him onto that makeshift litter to carry him through the woods and again when he had fumbled getting the wounded angel into the car. But they were home now, and Cas could finally start healing, he reminded himself again. Cas needed them right now, he was going to be bedridden until he healed and Dean didn't know how long this was going to take, though hopefully, now that they didn't have to move him again, it wouldn't take too long.

He took a steadying breath and left the bathroom, heading back down to Cas' room where the door was open. Sam was cleaning up the first aid things and looked up at Dean with a worried expression as he passed him on his way into the room.

"I'll be right back," Sam said as he went to throw away the bloodstained gauze.

Dean swallowed hard as he looked at Cas. The angel was pale and rigid. Sam had taken his shoes off but that was about all they could do for him. Dean wondered if there was a strong enough pain killer to help an angel.

Dean picked up a blanket from the foot of the bed and draped it gently over Cas. The angel stirred, opening his eyes and glancing up at Dean. The usual vibrant blue was clouded with pain, almost grey.

"Hello Dean," he murmured.

"Hey, Cas," Dean said, pulling a chair over to the bedside and sitting down. "Are you, uh…you comfortable?"

Cas swallowed hard. "I will be fine. Just…I have never been injured this badly before. I…I don't like not being able to feel my legs. I don't understand why it's taking so long to heal." His eyes glistened with fear and despair. "But…thank you, for helping as much as you can."

"No problem, man," Dean said and reached out to squeeze his wrist. "And don't worry about it. I know you'll heal, just give it time. You need to relax and rest."

Cas looked like he was fighting whatever emotions he was going through and Dean squeezed Cas' wrist tighter, reaching up to run his other hand through the angel's hair in what he hoped was a soothing gesture.

Sam came back in then, with a glass of water and a straw and something else tucked under his arm. "Here, Cas, thought you might be thirsty."

Dean helped to raise his head ever so slightly while he drank and then watched as Cas closed his eyes and rested back against the pillow, looking exhausted.

"I also found this in the infirmary," Sam said, holding up the other item. "It's a back brace. I thought it might feel better to keep your back straight and help it heal."

Dean nodded and turned to Cas. "You want to try it?" he asked.

The angel was silent then finally pressed his lips together. "Yes."

It took them a moment to figure out the best way to get it on him, but finally Dean did his best supporting Cas' neck and back, keeping it straight as he raised him from the bed just enough for Sam to slip the brace around the angel's torso.

Cas groaned at the pain and clenched his fists in the sheets, but thankfully, once they got the brace cinched up the support seemed to help the pain.

"It does feel a bit better," Cas told them after they got him settled again.

Sam looked relieved. "Is there anything else we can get you, Cas?" he asked.

"No," the angel said softly. "I—I just—It feels so…vulnerable."

Dean could see the emotions Cas was holding in. He was on the verge of desperation and that was just going to make this worse. He shared a glance with Sam before he reached out and squeezed Cas' shoulder. "Hey, you're not vulnerable. You're safe here, remember? And if anything does get in, it's not getting past Sam and me."

As if to prove Dean's point, Sam pulled Cas' reading chair from the corner of the room and sat down on the opposite side of the bed from Dean.

"That's right, Cas," he said with a reassuring smile, reaching out and gripping Cas' wrist. "And Dean and I are going to stay right here until you heal. We're not going to leave you alone, okay?"

Cas took a shuddering breath, a thousand emotions washing over his face as his eyes got wet. "Th-thank you," he managed to whisper, obviously grateful.

Dean smiled. "That's what family's for, Cas."

"Can I read to you to take your mind off of it?" Sam asked, looking through the books stacked on Cas' bedside table.

Cas blinked wetness from his eyes. "That would be nice."

So they settled down to wait with their injured brother, Sam reading softly from one of the Chronicles of Narnia books, and Dean keeping one arm resting on the bed so whenever the pain got too much for Cas, he could reach out and squeeze his wrist.

A couple hours later, Dean noticed Cas shifting slightly, obviously uncomfortable.

Dean held up a hand to stop Sam reading and turned to the angel. "Cas, you okay?"

"I…don't know. My legs are…tingling."

Sam frowned and reached out to set a hand on Cas' knee, squeezing. "Can you feel this?"

Cas concentrated as Sam dug his fingers into Cas' knee. "I…can feel a bit of pressure, yes." The relief in his voice was palpable. "I can feel my grace stirring finally."

Dean sagged in relief. "Good, that's good, Cas."

The next couple hours marked a slow healing process that seemed uncharacteristically agonizing for Cas. The angel did doze off several times but he never seemed to be able to stay asleep, always coming awake whimpering in pain. There were several moments that Dean could swear he could hear Cas' bones and tendons fusing back together, and the angel gripped his hand so tight he thought Cas would break every bone there.

He continued to get more feeling back in his legs, and then finally, Cas seemed to simply fall into a deep sleep. Dean took the neck brace off and gave Cas a thin pillow to make him more comfortable.

Then Dean finally slumped back into his chair and closed his own eyes.

Castiel woke slowly, feeling like he was breaking the surface after being deep in the ocean. He inhaled deeply, but felt no pain in his back. Just a little pulling from the stitches still in his semi-healed wounds. He held his breath as he glanced down his body and concentrated on moving his feet.

They shifted under the blankets without hesitation and he slumped on the bed, relieved.

He then glanced around and saw Sam and Dean asleep in chairs on either side of his bed. He smiled slightly, touched that they had stayed with him as they promised.

He was about to go back to sleep, when Dean stirred and woke. "Cas?"

"Hello, Dean," Castiel replied.

Dean leaned forward, rubbing his face. "Hey, you good?"

"I…think I am healed, yes." He tried to shift upright but Dean stopped him.

"Whoa, hold on, you should still take it easy."

Sam was awake now too, covering a yawn as he glanced over. "Cas, you're better?"

Castiel smiled at their concern. "I feel as if I am completely healed. Aside from the wounds on my chest." He looked between them, feeling a sudden urgency. "I would…I would like to get up."

Sam and Dean stood and reached down to help him sit up. Castiel held his breath, but no pain came from the movement. He swung his feet over the side of the bed and sat there.

"Let's get this off," Dean told him, unstrapping the back brace.

They also helped him take off his shirt and coat—they were both covered in blood but he could fix that later. They checked his back, Dean running a cautious hand down his spine before seeming satisfied.

"It looks okay," he said. "You want to try to go sit in the library or have something to eat?"

Castiel nodded. "Yes, I would like that."

Sam brought him a long-sleeved shirt to wear then they helped Castiel to his feet. He found he was still a little shaky, his legs and back stiff. But there was no pain and he had full feeling in his legs so that was a good thing. Still, he nearly stumbled as he took his first couple steps.

"Whoa, easy," Dean told him as he and Sam both grabbed an arm. "It may take a little while for you to get back on your feet."

They helped him into the kitchen where Dean insisted on making him breakfast, saying that after a healing like that he would need to get his strength back.

Castiel was happy enough to let him, and allowed Sam to pour him orange juice and coffee. He was just so grateful for these men, his brothers, who had literally carried him when he couldn't walk and had stayed by his side through the entire ordeal.

Having a family to take care of you made even the worst injuries not quite so bad as they could be.