Each breath grated against the back of his throat like steel wool, and the taste of iron coated the back of his tongue. Dean, Castiel repeated the name as a manta to himself once again as he limped on, panting, each footfall kicking up a talcum powder soft cloud of the soot layered thickly on the ground. Dean Winchester is close. He is close, and he is dying. He passed the large, softly sloping hill of black that he suspected contained a building, and he finally laid his eyes on the soft curve of black ash covering something the size of a car. The car.

Celerity, Castiel. The angel urged himself on and swiped the back of his hand across his eyes, and red smeared against his tan sleeve. Dean, ol esiasch. I am here. I am coming for you.

Castiel smeared his hand over the side of the lump of ash, and the silver handle of the car door very dimly shone back at him, covered in grime. The door groaned and then squealed in protest as the angel wrenched it open. Jet black ash broke into several tiny waterfalls from where it had layered about half a foot deep on the roof of the car, streaming down to form tiny mounds on the ground before trickling to a stop.

It was hard to see inside the car, as the soot had blanketed all of the windows and the windshield as if it had created a miniature cave. Castiel squinted hard into the small pocket of darkness, and saw only one human being draped limply across the car's leather bench seat. The interior of the car reeked of blood, and as he watched the large garnet pool collected on the seat dribbled down the side of the leather to wick into the carpet on the floor.

"Dean," His voice was more of a raspy growl, as he ducked into the car and wrapped his arms around his chest, sliding him backward with a large grunt. Dean's right arm had been ripped clean off, almost all the way up to his shoulder, leaving just a small nub behind. Bright red strips of flesh hung like raw chicken strips Castiel had seen Dean cooking in the kitchen once, and his stomach knotted uncomfortably at the connection. He saw the severed bone poking out from the lump of bleeding flesh and felt his face grow tight. Stop the bleeding, the angel thought in a panic, Or he will suffer from severe exsanguination.

He reached out and lightly touched his shoulder where skin was still intact, funneling a bit of his grace into healing the skin over, just so he could stop the bleeding for now. The regrowing of the limb could come later, when he'd have more time to concentrate. He tilted his head to the side in confusion and withdrew his hand. Nothing. Nothing had happened. Screwing up his face, he poked his fingers to Dean's shoulder again firmly and shot out more energy, and that was when he felt it. The repression.

"Oh, boy." The angel huffed. The Darkness wouldn't let him.

Tourniquet, Castiel. Quickly, his fingers tugged at the tie around his neck. Once it came undone he pulled at one side and it slipped into his hands. He grimaced as he looped it over Dean's shoulder and tucked it under his armpit, and with a harsh couple of tugs he made it as tight as possible before tying it.

He let out another nervous huff and reached out to slide Dean's gun with the lovely pearl grip from the holster on his thigh. With a tight exhale, he emptied the shiny bullets from the chamber to tumble into his slightly bloody palm. Cauterize this wound immediately. Castiel popped each bullet open easily, as his inhuman strength was back with the returning of his grace. He packed the gunpowder onto the raw flesh until the entire stump was covered in the black grit like a steak covered with pepper and-oh, his stomach slowly rolled. Castiel's had to close his eyes for just a split second. Stop comparing this situation to culinary ones, he had to firmly remind himself. Your vessel could react -unpleasantly.

He dug around in the glove compartment for their trusty old and scratched steel lighter. He unsheathed the lighter with a faint clink, and swallowed heavily. "I'm sorry, Dean." His voice trembled, and he quickly flicked the grooved wheel with the pad of his thumb and the flame danced as his hand shook.

Dean didn't even flinch.

The smell of burnt flesh made Castiel retch and cough, but at least the blood flow had been cut off. The angel took Dean's good arm and looped it over his neck, and with a loud grunt slung the rest of his body across his back into a secure Fireman's carry. He wrapped his forearm tightly along the back of Dean's knees and lifted, a hiss of air escaping his interlocked teeth. Dean's listless head flopped down and his ash-dusted cheek pressed to the angel's shoulder. The stump of his arm hung just a few inches from the angel's face as the other limply down Castiel's back, his curled fingertips brushing the small of his back. That charred smell made the angel wrinkle his nose in disgust.

"Sam!" Castiel's throat was too constricted, making the call much quieter than he would have preferred. He coughed, the air was still heavy with pollution and he could feel it aching in his lungs. Dean's clammy cheek bumped along his shoulder with each hacking cough. He cleared his throat and tried again.

"SAM!" He bellowed, his teeth flashing much whiter from the dark grime smeared on his face. "SAM! SAMUEL!" He scanned the area, looking for anything that could signify the presence of the younger Winchester. He dipped his head into the bloody cave of the car, but it was empty. He looked for any human-sized lumps covered in ash, or signs of him getting out of the car and leaving...nothing. Not even a single footprint, unlike the deep trail of footprints the angel had made on his way to the buried vehicle. It was like he'd vanished into thin air. The angel couldn't feel him nearby, either.

"I'm sorry, Dean." Castiel whispered defeatedly as he outstretched his wings to fly. "I'm sorry, Sam."

Tik, tik, tik.

Dean couldn't quite remember the moment when he'd actually woken up. His eyes were partially open and he squinted through his eyelashes, the only thing in his field of vision was a slowly spinning fan, way up above. One side from the pentagram consisting of several crossing chains had come undone, and the hanging chain was clinking against the slow-spinning fan blade.

Tik, tik, tik.

Dean blinked. Where the hell am I? He was in a bed and he was shirtless, he could tell, and large strips of cloth were wrapped around his pectorals and thickly padded along his shoulder. His jeans were gone, too, he was just in his cotton boxers.

"Dean," He heard the familiar gravel next to him.

"Cas..?" He tried to turn his head, but a firm hand shot out and kept it in place.

"Try not to move," Castiel instructed firmly. "Try and relax your body."

When his face did come into Dean's view, Castiel was peering down at him with a small frown. He looked even more disgruntled than normal, his hair was a mess and he still had dirt smeared on his face.

"Oh, Dean." He huffed in a cranky little grumble, the pressure from his hands surrounding Dean's face as he gently cupped his cheeks. "What happened this time?"

"I had nothing to do with it," Dean mumbled, his eyes falling closed once again. "Something came out of the frickin' sky- literally, Cas, out of goddamn nowhere-"

"Shh." The angel's calloused thumb gently smudged the stubble on his cheek. He gazed at Dean, a deep sadness tightening the features of his face. Dean could only peer back with half-hooded eyelids. "I know. I was there when Rowena completed the spell. You are not to blame for this."

"Thank you," Dean huffed irritably. He figured all this pain was factoring into his less-than-pleasant mood: his arm that used to have the Mark still burned, and Dean wondered why Cas had let him have it in such an uncomfortable, twisted position while he slept.

"Cas, jesus, my arm." Dean hissed, trying to flex his muscles to try and stop the burning, but something felt off. "Untwist it or something..ahhh. It hurts."

"Dean-" Cas began, his voice very low. He let out a dejected huff of air. "I'm going to sit you up now."

One of Cas's palms curled around where his shoulder met his neck, and gently squeezed there. He pressed his other palm flat over his shoulder blades and helped to pull him to sit up straight. It gave Dean a head rush, as a tinny ringing suddenly filled his ears and black splotches overcame his field of vision. There wasn't much to see in the safe room except a wall with pinned articles from a case from a long time ago, and Cas. Cas looked very worried, a tiny wrinkle had formed in between his eyebrows and he ground down on his teeth, Dean could see the slight ripple in his jaw.

"Are you alright," Cas ended his question in a hard tone, scrutinizing him with a squinty stare as he steadied him with one hand and used the other to cup the side of his face as Dean's eyelids fluttered.

"-Just got dizzy for a second," Dean mumbled defeatedly, leaning into the soft touch of Cas's hand on the side of his face. God, he felt so weak. He had no idea why Cas was suddenly being so affectionate with him, but he didn't mind at the moment. He felt like shit, and it was kind of helping (not that he'd ever admit to that). " 'M okay."

"You've lost quite a lot of blood. When I finally got to you, I think you'd gone into shock as well." The angel paused and dipped his head in shame for a second, as if he were working himself up to say something. His tongue darted out to nervously lick his lips, and he seemed to be looking everywhere except Dean's eyes. "Dean, I...I just need you to know I did everything I could, and I tried everything I know. I couldn't fix it." Cas began reluctantly.

"What are you talking about? Sorry for what?" Dean closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. The pain in his head was agonizing, throbbing against his temples. He already knew something didn't feel right.

"The Darkness takes what it wants and-and they took it back." Cas explained in defeat, his voice scratching at the back of his throat as he kept Dean upright by holding onto his bicep. "They took the arm, and they took Sam."

"Cas, what are you-" Dean moved both of his arms to look at his hands, but he saw only his left palm trembling back at him. The head rush returned in full, the room grew exceptionally bright and a flurry of black snowflakes swirled in his field of vision. He barely registered the hands that swiftly helped to lower him to lie back down, and he moaned softly as something ice-cold pressed to the back of his neck.

"I've learned the nurses do this after blood donations. I don't actually know why. I think it helps?" Cas spoke calmly. He paused for a beat. "Is it helping? Dean?"

The world was churning for Dean at a very unpleasant rate, and he just tried to focus on his breathing.

"...Dean?"

"Cas, jesus, give me a second here!" Dean shot back irritably. "My head, goddammit."

When Dean's vision finally stopped swirling, he made out the angel's worried expression once again.

"I'm sorry. You weren't ready to sit up yet, I don't think." Cas mumbled.

"Worst nurse ever," Dean mumbled, still trying to joke. The corner of his lip ticked up into a smile.

"Dean-"

"Kidding." Dean quickly interjected before the angel could get any more offended. He blinked and his eyes searched the angel's face slowly, he was frowning sourly and hovering very close to his bedside. Dean realized Cas must have hated to see him hurt like this, and being powerless to help. His worrisome expression was easy enough to figure out.

"Cas, I don't know why but I...I can still feel it." Dean began numbly, trying to flex both of his hands into fists again. His missing arm that had once had the Mark still burned, liked it was somehow twisted behind his back. His heart had started to pump quickly, and he could hear the rapid beat from behind his ears.

"Phantom limb syndrome." Cas explained quietly. "I thought that might happen to you. It was...torn away quite violently."

"Jesus," Dean sighed, covering his eyes with his palm. "And you said Sammy..."

"Sam was not there when I got to you. I've tried everything to find him, and I...I can't. The Darkness, it hinders me somehow. I don't understand it. I can't heal, I can't connect to angel radio, flying is very difficult. I'm..."

"So you're all powered down again?" Dean asked, ticking up an eyebrow.

Cas shook his head slightly. "Not...exactly. My grace is all there, it just feels...strange. It's being repressed." Cas didn't look any less worried. "Dean, some of this Darkness was still within you when I found you. That's why I put you into this room instead of your own bedroom. It's still inside of you, and I..." The angel finally seemed to break, digging his the bottoms of his palms into his eyes as he sat back down into the chair angled next to Dean's bed. "I'm at a loss, Dean. I don't have all the answers. I've tried. I-I don't know."

"Cas-" Dean tried to interject.

"I don't know where Sam is, things aren't working Dean, I..." The angel buried his face in his hands. "I couldn't protect the two of you, and-I can't... I'm sorry, Dean."

"Hey." Dean said softly. "Cas, look. Things are just...what they are right now. Don't beat yourself up about it, okay? We can figure this all out. We can find Sam, get this Darkness bottled up or whatever...you get me?" He struggled to sit up- it took a lot more ab muscles that usual- but managed to shift and get his legs dangling over the side of the bed.

"Yes," Cas croaked, finally lowering his hands and peering at Dean over them.

"-And you're not actually the worst nurse ever." Dean hoped that would make Cas smile. "And I mean- it's just a flesh wound. 'Tis but a scratch," Dean put on an awful English accent and gave Cas a shit-eating grin as he threw his arm out in an open gesture. "Ah? Ah?"

"Dean, you are-" The angel shook his head but finally did smile, just barely. It vanished quickly, but at least it was there. Damn, Dean thought. Did Cas really just get a reference?

"So, can I go for a stiff drink now, or what?" Dean asked, his hand plopping down with a faint smack onto his thigh. "And maybe put on some actual clothes?"

Castiel's eyes flew wide for a second before he stood back up and stopped Dean from standing up. "No! No, uh, just stay here." He sputtered. "I don't know what will happen to you if you get closer to the source. Outside."

"Right." Dean grumbled. "Darkness, inside me. Can't forget about that."

"Yes." Castiel replied. "It's nothing compared to all that was stuffed inside of you when you had the Mark, but it is significant. I think I know of a way to..." He trailed off, looking unsure that he really wanted to say the next thing. His eyes flicked nervously to meet Dean's.

"You know a way to fix it, don't you?" Dean prompted.

"I...yes. Maybe. It's all hypothetical."

Dean rolled his eyes and shrugged dramatically. Oh wow, that really threw off his balance. "Well?"

"I could..." Cas looked extremely nervous, and he was doing that thing were he looked everywhere but Dean once again. "I could, well, bind you to me. Our souls. Uh, together. Soul... binding. It would effectively burn the Darkness inside away, out...uh..." Cas cleared his throat, his lips parted as if he wanted to say something else, but he closed them again and let out an embarrassed huff.

There was a beat of silence. Dean stared at Cas, raising his eyebrows. Cas stared back solemnly, and when Dean screwed up his face and shrugged again he tilted his head slightly to the left. "What?" The angel huffed crankily.

"Christ, Cas, if it's that easy then let's just do that right now!" Dean had to chuckle.

The angel flushed very red suddenly at that. "Oh, well, I...Dean..." He turned away, fiddling for no feasible reason with the ice pack and little bottles of painkillers he'd set up on a bedside table. "It's...uh..."

"Yeah?"

"It would be permanent." The angel began, licking his lips. "It's...probably too intrusive for your liking."

"Well, like what?"

"We would be able to sense each other's locations at all times." Cas began tentatively. "We could tell how the other is feeling."

Dean paused and gave Cas a look. His intense 'Dude, are you serious?' look. "Well, that's good, right? Like, if you'd done it with Sam we'd know where he is right now- It would probably be a good idea if we got separated, and well...whatever. Maybe that other part will help with all your emotional constipation."

Cas looked offended. "My emotional-!"

"Fine, maybe a little bit of mine, too." Dean teased, somewhat shyly. "What else?"

"Nonverbal communication, as well." Cas elaborated. "But Dean, I don't think you understand the permanence of this kind of decision-"

"Great." Dean interrupted gruffly. "Cas, the permanence is great. Since when has anything good in my life stuck around?"

"How are you so sure that it will be a good thing?" Castiel asked quietly.

"Because I've known you for six years now and..." Dean trailed off, not quite sure what to say. "Look, you told me yourself you'd stick around long enough to "see me murder the world", remember that? After everyone else was gone? If you were willing to stick around for me in the first place, well, I guess...I'd stick around for you, too." It was almost like what he'd just said took a second to sink in for Dean, as he suddenly dipped his head in embarrassment. Had he really just said that out loud?

The was a beat of slightly awkward silence. "Then we will." Cas cleared his throat, still turning his back to Dean as he fiddled with an orange pill bottle and shook a few pills into his hand. Dean had no idea why Cas was making such a big deal about it, but then again he did things like that all the time. "Take these for the pain. And I will start collecting the ingredients soon."

"Great," Dean was still feeling slightly embarrassed by his choice of words earlier. He tossed the pills back into his mouth and took the water bottle Cas offered and chugged almost the whole thing, not realizing how thirsty he'd been.

"-Besides," Dean grunted when he'd finally drank his fill and he wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand. "I don't think I can 'murder the world' with only one arm."

Cas turned his face just enough toward him so that Dean could see him rolling his eyes, before he stalked quickly from the room, the bottom of his filthy trench coat billowing slightly out from behind him.

"C'mon, it was funny!" Dean called after him.

"That is the Darkness speaking," Cas called back sourly, still refusing to turn around.

"Hey, "The Darkness" can't tell a joke like that!" Dean surprised himself at how much better he felt when he was smiling. "Cas, c'mon!"