This is just a little h/c one shot I decided to write for Aini NuFire because she needed some Cas care this week. And because Season Finale is coming. We're going back to S10 with this one.

Grace

A Supernatural Fanfic

Castiel waited anxiously in the small waiting room of the clinic. He was the only one there this late at night for which he was glad because he was trying his best not to let any of the staff see that he was hiding quite a bit of blood under his coat. Sam had definitely been injured worse than he had, but one of the demons had managed to stab him in the side with an angel blade all the same. And it wasn't healing.

His stolen grace was burning out, far more rapidly than he had anticipated. Now he worried they wouldn't find Dean before he completely burned out.

He coughed raggedly into his hand and winced as the movement jostled his wound, slumping back further in the chair.

He glanced toward the back of the clinic where they were hopefully setting Sam's shoulder to rights. Castiel blamed himself for what had happened. After all, it had been a pretty pathetic fight…

The demons attacked them out of nowhere outside of the roadhouse they had followed a lead to. There were three of them, normally Sam and Cas could have taken them easily, but Cas hadn't even been able to hold one off. He'd gone forward to smite the first demon, but it had simply dodged him with a sneer, stabbing him with an angel blade, and kicked him out of the way before the rest of them leapt at Sam.

The hunter managed to take out two before another grabbed his arm and flung him into a nearby dumpster. Sam cried out in pain as a horrendous cracking sound was heard and he crumpled on the ground. Castiel somehow managed to get to his knees and threw his blade, catching the final demon, before staggering toward the fallen Winchester.

Castiel clenched one hand into a fist at the memory. He was supposed to be making sure Sam didn't get killed; instead he was practically useless in a fight because of his failing, stolen grace.

He coughed again, wrapping his arms around his middle, but still groaned in pain afterward.

Footsteps sounded down the hall and he glanced over with some relief, seeing Sam walking back to him, looking a little dazed, but accompanied by one of the doctors.

"Sam," Cas stood, frowning as he saw the sling that was keeping Sam's arm in place. "How are you?"

"Busted shoulder," Sam replied wryly. "It's gonna be a few weeks with the sling."

"Yes, and you really should follow these instructions," the doctor told him as she handed a sheaf of papers to Castiel. "You were lucky it wasn't worse. We managed to set it, but you really should do a follow up with a specialist."

"Sure, thanks, doc," Sam said, looking exhausted.

Castiel took his uninjured elbow and led him outside to the car Sam had been driving. Castiel helped him get situated into the passenger seat.

"Sam, I think we should go back to the bunker," he said, frowning as Sam struggled to do up his seatbelt. "You need some rest, time to adjust to this shoulder."

Sam sighed heavily, but nodded. "Okay, a couple days. Enough to look for a new lead."

Castiel pinched his lips together but didn't say anything. Truthfully, he felt that with all the dead ends they had run into, that Dean wasn't going to be found unless he wanted to be. And, worse case scenario, if he hadn't simply run away, then Crowley could have taken him practically anywhere, even Hell. Castiel closed his eyes at that thought. He was sure he didn't have the strength to go on another trip to Hell to rescue a Winchester. It hadn't been easy when he was at full power, now, he would probably die within seconds.

"Sam," he said as he started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. "Maybe I should continue our search myself, at least for a while. I mean, you won't be able to fight with your arm in a sling like that."

"I don't care, I'm not gonna stop looking for him," Sam snapped, then bit his lip, running a hand over his face. "Sorry, I just…"

"I understand," Castiel said softly. He wanted Dean back more than anything, but he couldn't lose both of his dearest friends, so he wasn't going to let Sam continue on this road to self-destruction. That was how Dean had gotten into this mess in the first place.

Thankfully it wasn't a long drive back to the bunker because Castiel was having a hard time staying awake. He could feel his fizzling grace, overworking to heal his wound, but it was only shutting his body down. He muffled several hacking coughs that were becoming more and more frequent the past few days, and blinked the black spots from his eyes. Sam glanced over at him a couple times, but Castiel didn't return his gaze. He couldn't let the younger Winchester see how bad off he was. Nothing could keep them from their search for Dean, and with Sam's arm in a sling, that was already a huge setback. They didn't need him to completely fall apart too.

Hopefully, after a few hours of rest in a safe bed, Castiel's wound would heal and he would be as good as new. Or, well, as good as he was going to get.

He closed his eyes briefly, praying that this grace would at least last long enough for them to find Dean, bring him home. After that, he didn't care what happened.

"Cas!"

Sam's cry jolted his eyes open and he swiftly swerved back onto the road. He shook himself vigorously, as the hunter stared at him in shock.

"Are you okay? How's your wound?"

"Sorry, I'm fine," Castiel assured him, but it sounded weak even to his ears, and he was a terrible liar. "I'm just rather tired."

They were only minutes away from the bunker though and Castiel gratefully pulled into the garage and turned the car off. It took him a moment to force himself onto his feet again, but when he did, he went around the car to help Sam out, even though the younger Winchester had already helped himself.

"You should get some rest," Castiel told him. "Are you in pain?"

"Not so bad," Sam said. "They gave me good stuff. What about you? Do you need me to help you look at your wound?"

Castiel was already heading toward his room though, not knowing how long he was going to be able to stay upright. "That's not necessary. I just…need rest…"

He felt the sensation of falling, dizzy, the surroundings of the map room spinning around him, and only after a long moment noticed he actually was falling. He heard Sam call to him from a long tunnel away but couldn't focus anymore, and had to allow himself to slip off into the encroaching darkness.

He awoke later, groggy, but to an insistent pain in his side. He groaned, and tried to pull away from whatever was causing it, but a hand suddenly descended firmly on his chest and pressed him back.

"Easy, I'm almost done," said a familiar voice.

Castiel opened his eyes and blinked several times to clear the bleariness, and saw Sam kneeling over him. He flicked his eyes around and saw he was still in the war room, about where he had fallen, but he'd been turned onto his back, and a pillow put under his head.

The pain started in his side again and he gasped, glancing down to see Sam stitching him up with his good hand.

"I couldn't get you into your room with one arm," he said a bit wryly. "But once I'm done patching your wound up, I'll help you into your bed if you can get on your feet."

"Thank you," Castiel replied, sounded somewhat defeated to his ears. That's how he felt too. His whole body ached, not just his wound, his stolen grace felt frayed and more painful than helpful anymore. It wasn't his and therefor it wasn't made for his body, it was more cancer than anything now.

Sam finished off the stitches, seeming to do a good enough job with just one hand, and then taped a square of gauze over the wound. He rocked back on his heels and then cocked his head at Cas. "You want to try to get to your room?"

Castiel's body longed for the soft mattress as opposed to the concrete floor, and he nodded, trying to push himself up with his elbows before taking Sam's good hand.

The younger Winchester pulled him to his feet and kept a firm grip on Castiel's elbow as they slowly made their way to the dormitory. Castiel still felt dizzy and stuck a hand out to touch the wall with.

"You feel kinda warm," Sam commented. "Are you fevered?"

Castiel frowned. That might explain why his body and head ached so much. "Perhaps."

Sam pressed his lips together and Castiel again felt terrible for being this burden Sam definitely didn't need right now.

They made it to his room and Castiel collapsed gratefully onto his bed, his wound twingeing at how heavily he slumped down.

"Here, let me get you something more comfortable to wear," Sam told him.

Castiel looked down his open, bloody shirt and realized that he couldn't even repair it in his current state. Sam was already leaving the room again and coming back with a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt that Castiel instantly recognized as Dean's. He met Sam's eyes as the hunter handed them to him and they shared a somewhat pained look. But he took them all the same. After all, Sam's clothes would be too large on him.

He changed slowly and Sam left again, returning with a bottle of pills and a glass of water.

"I don't think that will do much for me," Castiel said regretfully as he sank back onto the bed. Although…maybe he was so weak that it would.

"Still, it might help the fever," Sam said, shrugging his good shoulder.

Castiel sighed, then carefully opened the jar, and took two of the pills. He drank the water completely, surprised at how thirsty he was, at how dry his throat was. He gasped for breath afterward, and that started his coughing again. He doubled over, but they kept coming, and He was finally aware of Sam's hand on his shoulder, keeping him from face-planting off the bed.

"Hey, easy," Sam said and pushed Castiel back slightly.

The angel slumped back against his pillows and the bed cushioned his body like a cloud. He gave a groan of relief and took a deep steadying breath.

Sam surprised him by pulling the chair from the desk over and sitting in it. "Cas," he said softly. "Your grace…it's burning out, isn't it?"

Castiel closed his eyes and shook his head slightly. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not. Come on, man, I…can't have you lying about this stuff right now. I need you."

"Exactly, which is why I have to be fine," Castiel said with some exasperation. "I don't have time not to be."

Sam shook his head, leaning closer. "That's not what I meant. Cas, I care about you because you're my friend."

Castiel glanced to one side as Sam continued. "And I know that finding Dean is our priority, but if you need to take a couple days for your grace to recharge or whatever, don't feel bad about that."

Castiel heaved a weary sigh. "Sam, it's not going to recharge. My own grace would, but this…it will simply burn out when I have used it as much as I can. It was never a permanent fix."

"And what happens if it burns out?" Sam demanded.

Castiel looked away from him.

"Dammit, Cas," Sam whispered. "There's nothing we can do to fix this?"

Castiel shook his head. "Only if I find my grace. Or…steal another angel's. And I will not do that again." He couldn't stand to perform that great a sin twice.

To his surprise, Sam simply reached out to squeeze his arm. "I'm sorry, Cas."

"So am I," Castiel replied wearily. "I wish I could be of more help to you. And look at me. Your shoulder is broken, and you're the one taking care of me because I can't even fight a couple demons."

Sam smiled softly, and rubbed his arm in comfort. "Don't feel too bad. I'll manage; this isn't exactly the first time I've had my arm in a sling."

Castiel shook his head, wryly, but that made him dizzy and he closed his eyes, waiting for the feeling to pass. He coughed again and shifted uncomfortably on the bed, as the spasms started his body aching again. Sam stood up.

"Here, I'll get you something to help the fever."

Sam returned a few moments later and pressed a cool, wet cloth onto Castiel's forehead. It felt really good, and actually helped his headache as well. He was able to relax a bit better and was surprised to feel Sam pulling a light blanket over him.

"Will you be able to heal at all?" Sam asked him after a while.

"With enough rest, it should take the strain off of the borrowed grace," Castiel said. "Enough to heal within a couple days probably."

"Then I expect you to get some rest," Sam said firmly. "Look, Cas, I know we've got a lot ahead of us, but it's not going to do Dean any good if we run ourselves into the ground."

Castiel pushed the cloth up from his eyes to glance at Sam. "Is that wisdom coming from a Winchester's mouth?" he asked blandly.

Sam smirked despite himself. "Okay, fair. But I mean it, man. This whole thing with Dean…I know you feel the same way I do. So you'll understand when I say that I can't lose another brother. So…just be more careful."

Brother. The word hung in the air between them, a warm note among the pain that filled his body. Dean had called him that a long time ago, but he was never sure the Winchesters felt that way about him. Even though he certainly considered them to be his family.

He gave an earnest look and reached out to touch Sam's wrist. "Same to you, Sam."

Sam's face softened and he took Castiel's hand briefly and squeezed before releasing it and standing up. "Just…get some rest, Cas. We'll figure out what to do next about Dean after we've slept some. Let me know if you need anything."

"Thank you, Sam," Castiel told him earnestly.

Sam turned before he left the room and smiled. "That's what family does, Cas."

And with those words of hope echoing in Castiel's head, he drifted off, knowing that no matter what happened, he would be able to find the strength to bring Dean home.

Because that's what family did.