CHAPTER 5

"Can you give me a hand here?"

Dean very gently started to move Cas so that he could grab him under the arms. Sam stepped forward and grabbed his feet, and together they managed to move him to the empty hospital bed without jostling him too much. Sam looked down at the angel with a worried frown.

"God, he looks awful…."

Dean sighed. "Well, he did just cough up a gallon of blood, he's white as a sheet, and I swear dry ice is warmer."

Sam laid the back of his hand against Castiel's neck and flinched. "Wow, you're not exaggerating. That's got to be dangerous, even for an angel."

Dean walked over to the thermostat. "If they have a problem with me screwing with this, they can bite me." He tried to turn the heat up, cursed when remembered the power was still out, and then rummaged through an undamaged cabinet until he found a blanket. Gently, he tucked the blanket around Cas's frame, smoothing the edges with precision, his expression fixed with worry and determination. Sam merely watched; if the situation wasn't so bad, he would have appreciated how endearing the sight was. Dean was only every that gentle and that caring when it came to Cas. The angel was the only exception to his brother's usual tight rein on emotion.

Once he seemed satisfied with his work, Dean straightened up and looked across at Sam. "Well, now what?"

Sam inhaled loudly. "I say we draw the Celtic trapping sigils so that when it reappears, it can't bolt again. Or rather, I will. You don't need to lose any more blood."

Dean looked down at his arm as if he had forgotten all about it. "Yeah, right…." It still throbbed, but not nearly as much as before, and he no longer felt like he might pass out. But looking at it reminded him of what Cas had done, and the fact that the wound was still there was evidence of just how bad of shape he was in. Normally, an injury like this was nothing for the angel to mend. He gritted his teeth.

"Dammit, Cas. Why don't you ever listen to me?" he growled under his breath. He raised his head. Sam had been drawing the sigils but had stopped to look at him. "What?"

"You're really pissed at him, aren't you?" Sam asked rather sadly.

Dean sighed heavily. "I…well, yeah. Of course I am. I mean, look at him, Sam! Look what he's done to himself! He could die, all because he decided to play hero with some people he didn't even know."

"Wouldn't you have?"

Dean stopped abruptly. "…what?"

"I mean," Sam continued in a very matter-of-fact tone, "had you the power to heal people and had come across someone who was dying, would you not have done the same?"

Dean found himself a bit caught off guard, but tried his best to mask it under irritation. "Not really the point, Sammy. This isn't about me. It's about Cas, being reckless and impulsively putting his life in danger."

"To help people" Sam added.

"Well…yeah, but-"

"Is that not the same thing we do, and have been doing, since we started hunting together? Putting our lives at risk, being reckless and impulsive, to save lives? Is it so hard to believe that Cas, after being with us for all this time, has inclinations to do the same?"

Dean was getting frustrated with his brother's reasoning. "So what, Sam? Are you saying that you're okay with this? That it's fine because it's just a 'monkey see monkey do' type of situation? Cas is on death's door, but he was trying to save lives, so it's justified? Shit happens?" His tone got sharper with each word.

Sam grimaced. "Of course not. He was extremely careless, I agree. With his own safety and with the surreptitiousness of everything we do. I'm just saying that…I think I understand. To a point. And I know you're upset, but you should try to understand as well. Sometimes, when you worry about someone, you have a bad habit of coming across as just pissed and nothing else. Cas is your best friend. And he thought he was doing the right thing."

"Yeah, and he outa get those words tattooed on him" Dean snarled back. "In Enochian, 'I thought I was doing the right thing.' And as for your theory, here's the problem: Sure, you and I put lives on the line for strangers all the time, that's a fact. But when do we ever purposely put ourselves at the brink of death, fully aware of that being the result? Not exactly something I make a habit of."

Sam frowned. "Says the guy that has died, what…over a hundred times?"

"Like you're one to talk" Dean retaliated. "Besides, anytime I knew I was going to pay the ultimate price, I fully intended on coming back."

Sam walked over and sat in a chair against the wall, the gold blade in his lap. "Okay, Dean. You win. I don't know. Are you saying he's suicidal?"

Wouldn't be the first time, Dean almost said, but he decided against it at the last second. Sam didn't know about he and Cas's conversation after the whole purgatory debacle, and there was no real reason for him to ever find out. Instead, he just crossed his arms. "I just know that if-…when he finally recovers from this, he and I are having a nice, long chat. Man to man. Or man to angel. Whatever…."

With nothing else to say to each other, the Winchesters sat in silence for the next couple of minutes. Finally fed up with standing, Dean pulled a chair up to the side of the bed and sat down, just staring at Castiel's pale, bloodless face. Sam was, of course, right about how Dean handled these kinds of situations. He always masked his worry with anger, and it seemed his concern did become lost to the one at whom it was directed. But he often couldn't help it. Overwhelming worry for someone he loved, without another emotion to offset it, felt suffocating to the hunter. Paired with the sense that it was out of his control and Dean's anxiety spiked, sending visible tremors throughout his body. He had almost lost his best friend numerous times, and each time it felt worse.

Trembling with apprehension, Dean reached under the blanket, found Cas's hand and gently held it. It felt like a block of ice, but he didn't draw back. He dropped his head down until his forehead pressed against the bed railing.

"C-cas…" he whispered shakily, feeling helpless. All the lacerations, burns and broken bones in the world couldn't hurt worse than watching his friend suffer like this.

Thanks to the power outage, the room was rather cool without the heat running, so it took longer for the hunters to realize that the room temperature had suddenly dropped several degrees. When it dawned on him, Sam leapt to his feet.

"Dean, it's here" he gasped out.

Dean lurched to his feet as well. "The sigil, Sam. Throw me the blade!"

Sam tossed the blade to his brother just as the banshee materialized in front of them, its mass taking up most of the room. His hand still bloody from drawing the spell, Sam pressed his palm against one of the sigils. The banshee was immediately pulled to the sigil on the opposite wall. It shrieked with fury and flailed wildly. The entity so enormous in size that its thrashing limbs sent the contents of the room flying in every direction. Dean was about to stab it with the gold blade but was forced to duck as shrapnel flew through the air. Unfortunately, Sam was not able to dodge a lamp that sailed in his direction and was struck in the head. He cried out in pain as the impact slammed him back into the wall…which caused him to smear the trapping sigil by mistake.

Dean whirled around as his brother sank to the floor, unconscious. "Sammy!"

Free from the trap, the furious banshee took advantage of Dean's distraction and attacked the hunter, knocking him across the room with one blow. Dean hit the wall and landed on his injured arm, causing an explosion of pain all the way up to his shoulder. He gasped from the intensity of it as his vision swam. He could feel fresh blood running down his arm from under the bandages and the nausea was starting to return. Through the blur, he caught sight of the banshee moving towards the bed and hovering over Cas's still form. Dean choked on his own breath. "NO!"

In the mess, Dean couldn't see what had happened to the gold blade, but he had to do something. He staggered to his feet, bringing up half of a ruined chair with him, and chucked it as hard as he could. Of course, it went right through the banshee and smashed to pieces against the wall, but succeeded in drawing its attention away from Cas. It whirled around and shrieked at him, making his ears ache instantly. But he still faced it without flinching.

"Leave him alone, you fucking son of a bitch. You like humans, right? Well then, you're after the wrong guy. Come and get me, asshole!"

The banshee shrieked again and shot towards him.

"Oh shit" Dean yelped, dropping to the floor to avoid being ripped in half. His 'plan' had worked in getting the banshee to focus on him instead of Cas, but that's as far as he had gotten. His only hope now was to find the stupid blade and kill the damn thing. But it moved so fast, did he have time to find the knife before it finished him off?

Dean saw a glint of gold underneath a pile of rubble and lunged for it, but a sudden weight on his back pinned him to the floor. He cried out and tried to scramble loose, but the banshee only pressed down harder. He could feel its long, spindly finger nails digging into his flesh. And then a wail, shrill and deafening, erupted inside Dean's mind. The sensation that followed was like a railroad spike being slowly driven into the base of his skull, wedging it apart and piercing into his brain. He screamed in agony. He wanted it to end so badly, but fought the overwhelming urge to start bashing his head into the ground. But it was a fight he was rapidly losing, as the wail continued to intensify and the blinding pain started to overpower his will….

Castiel had been floating in a vat of darkness for an unknown period of time when sudden senses started to break through and drive him back into awareness. First was an intense chill that washed over his already cold body and made him shiver. The next was an array of noises, muffled at first, but growing in volume and proximity. He finally stirred when a sound, more penetrating and dreadful than anything he had ever heard before, filled the space around him. His body was unbearably weak, so much that he felt disconnected from his own physical form, but he forced his eyes open and rolled on his side to see what has happening.

The first thing he saw was pieces of broken…everything, scattered all over the room, and Sam Winchester, blood trickling from his head, lying in the midst of it. The sight of his injured friend inspired him to try and sit up more, his eyes going wide in horror. Then he turned and saw it; the banshee, abnormally large in size and abundant in power, hovered at the other end of the room, but its attention was focused on the ground…where it had Dean Winchester pinned to the linoleum floor, howling in pain.

Cas was hardly in any condition to move, much less aide in a fight against this powerful entity. But if there was one thing he absolutely could not do, it was stand by while this thing harmed his friend…the human that meant more to him than anything else in the universe. The sentiment that sparked today's event, his sudden need to heal those who were sick, hurt and dying, had been born out of the need for redemption. The desire to set things right for a change, instead of ruin or destroy them. The chance do real good in the world, and to be good.

But what the hell was the point of redemption if he couldn't save his family?

"No fucking point" he ground out, forcing himself out of the bed and onto his feet, his face set with determination. It didn't matter that his grace was almost gone; he would draw the power from somewhere, no matter how high the cost.

Dean was literally seconds from giving into the urge to bash his own head open when the pressure holding him down suddenly vanished. The sound also evaporated just as abruptly and he gasped with relief. But what had caused it to let up?

He turned over slowly, trying to ignore the desire to throw up, and attempted to focus on what was going on above him. The banshee was still the room, but it was writhing in midair, seemingly held by an unknown force. It screamed and struggled, clearly trying to fight back against whatever had a hold of it, but could not break loose. Dean sat up shakily and looked at other side of the room. His eyes grew impossibly wide.

Not only was Castiel awake, but he was standing, facing the banshee with his arm outstretched and light radiating from his open palm. As Dean watched, he stepped forward as his eyes began to glow a vibrant neon blue and the shadows of his gigantic, dark wings consumed the space behind him. As he advanced, the banshee was forced back until its body was pressed against the opposite wall and trapped in place.

Dean couldn't believe it; the way Cas had looked, it seemed as if he was teetering on the edge of death, or at least of losing his grace entirely. By some miracle, he had summed up enough power to gain an upper hand on the malevolent entity. But only took Dean a few seconds to realize that this surge of strength was extremely temporary. Cas was already swaying, the light in his eyes flickering, and there were fresh streams of blood starting to seep from his mouth and nose. Dean's heart nearly stopped when he caught sight of blood starting to leak from his eyes as well.

"C-Cas! DON'T!" he cried out desperately.

Cas spoke, but kept his eyes on the banshee, ignoring Dean's plea. "You have hurt enough people. We weren't here to stop you before, when you started feeding off this place, but we're here now, and you crossed a line when you turned on my friends. And now, we are putting an end to your slaughter!"

We. He kept saying we. And that's when Dean understood. Cas was just holding it there, taking the place of the trapping spell, but he didn't have the strength to kill it. That part was up to the hunter.

At Castiel's condemning speech, the banshee fought harder and was actually starting to gain some ground. Cas grunted with effort and managed to stand firm, but he was fading fast. Dean dove towards the pile where he saw the glint, only to find that it wasn't the blade he had seen, but a piece of a broken lamp. He cursed loudly and started tearing through the mess, frantic. But then:

"Dean, here!"

He looked up to see his brother, awake again, pull the knife from underneath a ruined chair and slide it towards him. Dean snatched it up and scrambled to his feet. The banshee had succeeded in pushing away from the wall and was now only a few feet from the angel, quickly closing the space between them.

Dean ran forward. "I got it, Cas! Hold on!"

Seeing Dean on his feet again gave Cas the last ounce of strength he needed, and with one last push, he focused the all the energy he had left into a single surge and slammed the creature back against the wall with a burst of light. As it hit, Dean threw himself at it and plunged the blade as deep as it would go, straight into the entity's heart. It let out a final, guttural cry before exploding into a cloud of red mist. It was finally over.

Dean breathed heavily, leaning against the wall for support and then sliding to sit on the ground as his exhaustion and pain, now in his head as well as his arm, caught up with him. But all of his senses suddenly went numb when he looked over at Cas. The angel, whose skin was now gray and had tear tracks of blood streaming down his face, locked eyes with the hunter for a second. The glow was gone, replaced with a dull, lifeless fog.

He managed to give Dean a soft, weak smile before his eyes rolled back into his head and he crumpled into a heap on the floor.

Dean let the knife slip from his hands and scrambled over to his friend as fast as he could.

"Oh my God…C-Cas? Cas!"

He leaned over and laid his head against the angel's chest, but there was no movement. And when he checked for a pulse, he couldn't find one.

"Jesus Christ, he's not breathing" Dean cried, voice breaking with panic. "Sam, help! What do I do?"

Sam had managed to get on his feet and staggered towards them. With Dean's words, he looked down at his brother in horror. He took a deep breath, trying to stay calm for both of them.

"CPR" he ordered. "30 compressions, 2 breaths. Hurry!"

Dean nodded and turned back to Cas. He clasped his hands together and braced them against his friend's chest, pushing down hard with even, rhythmic intervals. He counted to 30 and then leaned down, tipping back Cas's head to open his airway. Ignoring all the blood, Dean covered the angel's mouth with his own and breathed twice, feeling his chest rise and fall with each one. Whether or not CPR was something that would even work on an angel was unclear, but Dean chose not to think about that. He stayed completely focused on the task at hand, having to repeat the process when Cas still did not breath on his own.

At that moment, the power finally came back, flooding the red lit room with a blinding overhead glow. Spotting it on the ground, Sam grabbed up the blade and concealed it in his jacket, afraid what someone might think if they saw it, then knelt down on Cas's other side as Dean continued the CPR. But so far, nothing had changed. Sam felt sick to his stomach as he took in Cas's appearance. He had looked bad before, but now…he looked like the bodies Sam had seen down in the morgue.

Despite his brother's efforts, Sam feared that this was out of their hands and that if Cas was to have a chance at surviving, they would need to seek outside help. Sure, Castiel was an angel and his grace was clearly the center of his suffering, but his physical body was still human, and that human part of him was dying.

Carefully, Sam reached out and grasped his brother's shoulder. "Dean…hey, D-Dean?"

But Dean jerked away from him. "Not now, Sam!"

"Dean, listen" Sam tried again. "Hold on a sec. I think…I think we need help. You can't…."

Sam trailed off. Dean didn't seem to be hearing him, and he seemed to be losing strength as his movements got slower and slower. With that, Sam made up his mind. Dean was not in any state to weigh in anyway.

"Screw it" Sam said, pushing himself to his feet again and rushing to the door. If he didn't get someone now, Cas might die…if it wasn't too late already. He unlocked the door and burst out into the hallway, shouting for help.

Dean hadn't even really noticed what Sam doing, and though fatigue was getting the better of him, he didn't stop. Only when people started flooding in the room and literally prying him away did he acknowledge anyone else. He fought against the arms that were trying to pull him back, away from Cas.

"N-no, no!" He cried frantically. "Let me go, goddammit! He's still not breathing! I've got to help him! Stop!"

But they didn't stop, and soon Sam was beside him, holding onto his shoulders firmly.

"Dean! Relax, they're trying to help. Let them help. We have to. Cas won't make it if we don't."

Dean felt tears running down his cheeks as he looked down at Cas's ashen face. Before they could take him away, the hunter leaned down and pressed his forehead against the angel's, placing one hand directly over Cas's heart, as if he could will his own life force into his friend that way, and make him breathe again.

"Don't die…" he begged quietly. "Please…don't…."

But then Sam pulled him upright, so he had no choice but to sit there and watch them take Cas, and the strain of it all hit him in one giant wave. He suddenly felt so weak he could barely breathe and the last of his strength evaporated like water. He curled in on himself, his frame shaking uncontrollably, and leaned into Sam when he felt his brother's arms wrap around him.

Needless to say, what was originally an unplanned but then, supposed to be, quick in-and-out trip to the hospital now stretched over a span of a couple days. Sam was treated for a thankfully mild head wound and Dean's arm was stitched and re-bandaged. As it turned out, Cas had managed to heal the infection that had started in the wound, causing the weakness and nausea, and had also repaired a lot of the deeper muscle damage, leaving mostly surface lacerations. But the doctor was not as surprised as Dean expected; he seemed more resigned, chocking it up to what was now being referred to all throughout the hospital as 'the Miracle', an unexplained phenomena that swept through, saved dozens of lives, and vanished just a quickly. Luckily, besides the little girl's account of an 'angel' standing above her, no one else saw anything or anyone, so their 'secret' was safe.

The angel himself, however, had been much less so.

When the doctors got a hold of him, Cas was flat-lining and had severe internal bleeding and multiple organ failure. They were not at all optimistic of his survival and pretty much gave up on him at one point. But somehow, against all the odds, his heartbeat did come back, several seconds after they pronounced him dead. From whatever source it had pulled from, the dying embers of his tortured grace were able to recover enough to restart his heart and make his lungs work again. Again, the doctors blamed the Miracle, knowing how impossible the situation was. And that's what they told Sam and Dean when they had finally gotten him stable.

Two days later, Cas seemed to be well enough to at least travel, and the Winchesters snuck their friend out of the hospital, into the Impala, and home to the bunker. Cas's grace was going to take a long time to restore, but it had already started, and he seemed to be no longer at risk of dying.

As much as he wanted to, Dean chose to wait on confronting Cas and having the dreaded conversation he had planned since this all started. It was still going to happen, but Dean wanted to rethink his approach for several reasons, giving Cas time to recover more being the most obvious. The other reasons did have something to do with what Sam was saying, but there was more than that….

During their painfully long and nerve-wracking wait for Cas to be well enough to sneak out of the hospital, Dean heard a lot of chatter about the Miracle and his kept his ear to the ground in case he heard anything of concern. News of the event spread and was televised as reporters flooded in to catch the story, but nothing got out of hand or made him worry about Cas being found out. But what he did end up hearing succeeded in diminishing the deep set anger he had towards Cas for what he had pulled, and what it had ultimately caused.

Dean had been leaning casually against a wall, his arm in a sling, listening to a conversation between a couple of doctors and several reporters. He hadn't really intended to pay attention unless he heard something about a guy in a trench coat, but he did anyway, and somehow, it was as if he was meant to hear it.

"We're calling it a miracle because…" the doctor trailed off, "…well, it was just that. There's really no other explanation for it. Not every single patient in the hospital was affected, but the ones whose lives were in critical condition, or who were spending their last days or hours here with no hope of recovery, were miraculously healed or cured. And what makes this all the more incredible is that, with the power outage and the backup generators failing, had some the patients who were scheduled for surgery or on life support not been healed before that happened, they would have died. Probably all of them. It would have been a horrible tragedy. This miracle is the only reason a third of our patients are still alive. I'm not much of a believer, but if divine intervention is real, than this is what it would look like, I'm sure of that."

Those words rung in Dean's mind for the rest of the day, the entire ride back to the bunker, and then some. What it told him was that what Cas had done, while dangerous , reckless and impulsive, had ultimately prevented a heartbreaking disaster that was already set to happen, thanks to the banshee. How could Dean fault him entirely for that? It was the family business after all. Saving people, hunting things. And Cas was definitely family. It was just like Sam had been trying to point out. Dean cursed quietly. Sammy was always right about these things.

But Dean was still deeply bothered by a sense that something else had driven Castiel to do it, something that needed to be addressed in order to avoid future incidences. And with that in mind, Dean decided the conversation, though altered from how he previously intended to approach it, still needed to happen.

So one morning when Castiel walked into room, still moving a bit slow and stiff, Dean patted the chair next to him at the table.

"Hey Cas. Have a seat. I need to talk to you."

Cas frowned slightly, seeming a bit nervous, but obliged. He did, however, have trouble making eye contact with the hunter.

Dean sighed. "I'm guessing you know what I want to talk about?"

"I have an idea" Cas replied quietly, still not looking at him.

"Well, then let me just get right to the point. What you did was…pretty damn stupid."

"Saving lives is stupid?" Cas replied plainly.

"You know what I mean" Dean growled back. "Pushing yourself to the brink of death is the stupid part, dumbass." But then he reined it in a bit, reminding himself of what Sam said. "Look, you just…you scared the absolute shit out of me, and Sam. You were dead, you know that? For a little while, your heart had stopped, you weren't breathing, and you were just…dead. And…it just…."

Dean was struggling to contain himself, remembering how sick he felt when the doctors hauled Cas away and warned them how slim his chances were. But he forced himself to focus on his concern more than his resentment for being put in that situation.

"I just need to understand why, Cas. What exactly made you throw caution to the wind and put yourself in that much danger. I mean, did you have any idea how risky it was? How sick it would make you?"

Cas shrugged. "Honestly, I didn't know exactly what would happen because I had never done anything like that before. I just…saw all those people, suffering, sad, in pain…and I knew I could fix it, so I did. I've healed random people before, but I've never been around so many in one place. The misery in the air, was…overwhelming, and I had the power to get rid of it. I thought you would understand, Dean. You and Sam save people all time, especially when it's dangerous, because you know that you can, that you're the only ones who can. You told me once you were not much of a role model, but that's simply not true. At the time, I was the only one capable of saving these people, so I did. 'Cause that's what you would have done."

Of course Sam was right, Dean thought, rolling his eyes. But he wasn't satisfied yet. "Yeah, Cas. I get that. But….you went too far. You pushed way past your limits and almost paid the ultimate price for it. I can't help but feel that there's something else going on. So be straight with me…what is the other reason?"

Cas finally looked at him, his blue eyes swimming with conflicted emotions. For a being as matter-of-fact, serious and blunt as he was, Castiel had the most expressive eyes the hunter had ever seen, and he often found himself unable to look away from them. Cas hesitated in answering, but finally:

"I wouldn't expect you to understand this because, even though both you and Sam have messed up in the past, you'll never screw up as much as I have. Never. The things I have done are unforgivable and frankly….hard to live with. But I force myself to because that's my punishment. To live with the memories of the crimes I've committed and the people I've hurt, you and Sam being among those people. And plus, if I'm here, at least I can help you, protect you, support you anyway I can. You mean the world to me, so that's really the least I can do. But…with all the wrongs in my past, I will never do enough right to make up for it. And what I saw was a chance. A chance to do the right thing, to be good, to change something for the better. So I saved that little girl, a child who didn't deserve to die, whose life was being cut cruelly short. And when I saw her face, and the faces of her family, how happy and relieved they were, their hope restored, I felt…joy. Peace. Contentment. And knowing that I could give that same hope to others, ones who had lost faith long ago, well…I just knew I had to."

Dean took a deep breath. It was a lot to process, but he needed to confirm one thing. "So…you weren't trying to kill yourself? 'Cause I gotta be honest, I've been a little freaked out about that ever since you opened up to me about Heaven when you came back from Purgatory. So, I thought…."

Cas shook his head. "No, that was not my agenda. It's redemption, Dean. I told you long ago that I would redeem myself to you, for everything I've done, but I need to do that for the rest of the world as well. I owe humanity that, and I will forever. Call me desperate. Call me selfish. But I know I needed to do this."

Dean just stared back at his friend, taking in everything that had been said. It wasn't what he expected. He figured Cas would go and start talking like he did when they were still trapped in Purgatory, with that melancholy 'I deserve to suffer' song and dance that made Dean so frustrated. What he said this time made sense, and he felt like he did understand a bit better. But that didn't make it any less sad.

Dean dragged a hand down his face. "Jeez, Cas…."

The angel looked away. "Like I said, I really don't expect you to understand. You've never murdered thousands of your own family, killed hundreds of innocent people and betrayed your best friends again and again. So why would you?"

"But I do" Dean replied immediately. "Better than you realize. Yeah, if you want to do the math, our screw-up piles are a bit lopsided in quantity, but I've never looked at it that way. Everybody screws up, pal. Royally. And Chuck knows you and I are legends in the field. So I get it. But…if you think for second that I think it justifies almost killing yourself, you're dead wrong. No pun intended. It's fine to want redemption, but it's not fine to throw out your own well-being in the process. I will never be okay with that, you hear me? So you better get that straight, you stupid sonofabitch."

Cas drew back slightly as Dean's voice rose with every word. He quite literally jumped when Dean suddenly pushed back from the table and stood up aggressively.

"Get up" the hunter growled. "Now. C'mon."

Castiel swallowed loudly, wishing he was anywhere else right now, but did what Dean told him, only much slower. On his feet, Cas faced his friend as firmly as he could, ready for what he was sure was going to be a well-deserved right hook to the face. Instead, Dean closed the distance between them in one long stride and wrapped his arms around Cas's frame incredibly tight, his face buried in the angel's shoulder. Castiel was so taken aback that he just stood there, his eyes wide.

"You have no idea, do you?" Dean finally said, his voice incredibly muffled by the fabric of the trench coat. "You have no idea how scared I was. How fucking terrifying it was to find you like that, to see you look so sick, bleeding everywhere, and then laying on the ground, cold and still and not breathing. You scared me to death, Cas. I thought we'd lost you. You…can't do that. You can't scare me like that, okay? You just can't…."

Cas's heart lurched at his friend's distraught tone, and he brought his arms up to hug him back. "I'm sorry, Dean…I didn't mean to scare you. I'm so sorry…."

Dean finally drew back, taking a deep breath, but held Cas at arm's length. "You mean the world to me too, you know. I need you…alive and well. So…stay away from hospitals from now on, okay?"

Cas nodded, but his dejected expression made Dean feel sympathetic. He brought his hands up to Cas's face, gently cradling his cheeks.

"Listen, buddy.. As risky as it was, what you did back there was incredibly selfless, not selfish. Those people would have died too soon thanks to that banshee, and you saved them. So, you did a great thing. Be proud of that. But at the same time, this is not something you can ever or, as harsh as it sounds, should ever repeat. It's not even possible for you to make a habit of it. Unfortunately for humans, death is a part of life. So, as noble as it is to want to, you…you can't save everyone. Though you try."

Cas frowned. "I said that to you once" he said thoughtfully. "Are you…using my own words against me?"

Dean let go of his face. "You bet your ass I am. Now, your grace is grounded for the next few weeks, got it? No healing, no nothing. If I catch you using it for any reason, I'll beat the shit out you."

"I understand" Cas said with a slight smirk. "But if you end up hurt or in danger sometime between now and then, I can't make any promises. You're right, I can't save everyone, but I will always save you, no matter what. Nothing would ever stop me from doing that."

Dean smiled and wrapped an arm around his best friend's shoulders. "Right back 'atcha."

THE END

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