I know this fic is about Dean, but

CASTIEL.

STOPPIT. I CAN'T. 3333

I wish I owned them. 3

oOoOo

The house Dean came around to was without noise. Not an ominous or unpleasant silence, but one that heralded peace. As his mind slowly geared up, Dean became aware of the sunshine splaying across his body, warming it pleasantly like he was lying on a beach instead of an amazingly soft bed.

"Dean?"

The voice surprised Dean. He opened his eyes and met Cas's mildly concerned expression. "Are you alright?" he inquired gently.

Dean rubbed his face and stretched, careful to avoid ripping his stitches. "Pretty good, all things considered," he muttered. "How long have I been out?"

"Approximately fifteen hours."

Dean smiled vaguely. "Fifteen hours. That's awesome. Never thought I'd get fifteen hours without being in a hospital."

He sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed. In a flash, Cas's hand was on his shoulder, precluding any more movement. Dean raised an eyebrow.

"You are not to get out of the bed unless absolutely necessary," Cas told him firmly.

"I'm fine."

Cas's grip tightened almost threateningly when Dean tried to rise again. Dean blinked. The angel was dead serious.

"Alright." Dean settled back and luxuriously sprawled across the bed. "I guess if you're givin' orders, you must be feeling better."

"Yes, thanks to you. I intend to return the favor until Sam and Bobby return from the hospital.

A natural tingle of dread dripped into Dean's stomach. "They're at the hospital?"

"After we took care of the rest of the demons, Sam drove Bobby to the emergency room to get his hand set. Bobby made Sam check in to clear up the rest of his illness. They should be back by tomorrow."

Dean nodded slowly, contemplating the new information. The demons were dead. Bobby and Sam were receiving proper medical treatment. He himself had endured sleep deprivation, stress to a criminal degree, thorough battery, and a knife to the ribs. Yesterday he wouldn't have envisioned an end to the misery.

"Do you think," Dean mused aloud, "that whatever magical being that always seems to be looking out ever gets tired of saving our asses?"

Castiel actually smiled. "There was no magical being at work this time. It was all you."

"Ah." Dean waved away the compliment. "Wasn't much use. Only took out one of those demons and then got knifed."

"Dean, you tended us with diligence, compassion, and selflessness. Does that mean nothing to you?" Slight anger colored Cas's tone.

The other shrugged. "Just did what I do. What, you think I'd let you guys fend for yourselves?"

"Of course not, but-"

"There you go."

Dean clearly wanted the conversation over. Cas allowed the subject to drop and instead said, "Your bandages could probably use changing."

"Yeah, right. Hand me the stuff."

Cas retrieved the medical kit and withdrew the sterile pad, gauze, and disinfectant. Dean reached for it only to have his hand knocked away. His jaw dropped. Cas paid him no mind and, not waiting for an answer to his inquiry of permission, began work.

"I...could have done it myself, y'know," Dean said quietly.

"No need. I observed you earlier."

The angel was ironly concentrated, determined not to make any mistake. Still, he occasionally glanced up to Dean for validation and received it in the form of small, single nods. Finally a clean bandage was placed and Cas looked at Dean for the verdict.

Dean appraised his side and grinned. "You're one hell of a nurse, Cas."

"Thank you. And now I believe you require food."

"You read my mind."

Dean made another natural attempt at getting up that was instantly foiled. He gave a growl of irritation. "You really expect me to leave you alone in Bobby's kitchen? Have you ever actually *made* food, Cas?"

"I'm certain I can figure it out."

"I don't see why I can't make my own food," Dean muttered, on the verge of pouting.

Castiel smiled at the man he knew had been through so much and kept fighting through it all. "Because, Dean, you need to learn that you are not the only one who is reliable around here."