Well everyone, this is the final chapter! Thanks again for all your support on this one and patience with the cliffies. ;) For those of you who have been waiting for Zachariah to show up…batten down the hatches.

Thanks as always to my guest reviewers!

Chapter Six

The recovery process was difficult. Bobby, being in a wheelchair was hardly capable of taking care of the Winchester brothers himself, and Dean could do nothing but lay in bed with his injured leg, unable to use crutches with his ruined hands. In fact, he couldn't do much of anything with his hands bandaged and splinted as they were. Sam helped him the best he could, but he only had one good hand and couldn't do any heavy lifting with his broken ribs, so Castiel did everything Sam couldn't and somehow he managed to nurse both the brothers back to health. He spoon fed Dean and made sure his bullet wound was clean and freshly bandaged every day. He washed Sam's hair in the sink and helped him dress with the clunky cast covering his left arm. He did all this and more, trying to make sure the brothers didn't feel humiliated by their weakness, but simply acted as a caretaker, just another brother, who didn't say a word when they needed his help even with the more humiliating things like bathing and calls of nature. Castiel just wanted them to feel comfortable, he just wanted to do something to help. He was unable to heal them like he would before, so he did everything he could to make them better the only way he was able now.

But the thing he realized most while nursing the brothers was that humanity was anything but glamorous. In fact, it was the exact opposite. It was filthy and hard and Castiel didn't know how any humans survived to adulthood. He would never have thought of it before, but now with his failing grace, with his power slipping a little more by the day, he realized that, eventually, this is what he had to look forward to. He had no delusions that he would still be an angel in the following years; Dean had seen as much when he went to the future, and even if they managed to stop the apocalypse and kept everything else Dean had seen from happening, it wouldn't keep Castiel from turning human. That had already been set in motion and was an inevitability that he was going to have to learn to cope with. The thought that he could one day be bedridden with injures taken in a fight, so helpless that he needed someone to feed him by hand, made him sick. How would he do it? He may have been an Angel of the Lord, but he had never been human, and he wasn't sure he could survive the things he had seen Sam and Dean go through over the couple years he had known them. He wasn't entirely certain he was strong enough in that regard. How did one simply learn to be human and how to deal with all the problems that came with it? He supposed he should be grateful that he was falling as slowly as he was so he had time to prepare. Of course, the constant pondering might very well make it worse after all.

Sam was recovering well, and eating normally again, starting to gain back some of the weight he had lost after his last demon blood detox. Dean was pretending he was fine, but he still woke up almost every night, sometimes more than once, gasping for breath and thrashing against his blankets even though Castiel was careful to spread them over him only lightly. It was going to take him a long time to get over being buried alive. Sometimes, even though Dean would never ask for it himself, Castiel left the lamp on for him at night and it seemed to help for Dean not to wake up in the dark.

Sam had noticed his suffering, obviously, and he probably suspected what had happened, but Sam never mentioned it to Dean either. It seemed to be a silent understanding between the brothers.

On the other hand, the one good thing that seemed to come from this tragedy was that Sam and Dean had grown closer again, probably closer than they had been the entire time Castiel had known them. He had never doubted Sam and Dean's love for each other, but their relationship had undeniably been strained with the events of the past couple years what with Ruby and the demon blood and Sam seeming to insist that Dean was broken now that he had come back from Hell. Castiel knew the truth of that. Dean had been broken, but Castiel suspected his lack of conviction or whatever he wanted to call it was simply a product of being sickened by violence of any kind after what he had been forced to do for Alastair. Dean was afraid to go back to that mindset, and Castiel again cringed at the memory of forcing the hunter to torture Alastair for them. Again, he realized it was a good thing that he had killed Mark and the others so that Dean didn't have to. Killing humans had never been to Dean's taste, no matter how monstrous they might be.

The brothers barely left each others' sides in their convalescence, talking and even laughing together. Castiel even joined in, and he helped Bobby prepare meals, which he tasted, sitting around the table with the brothers once Dean was able to move from his bed, and it felt good. It felt like what Castiel understood family to be, and the fallen angel realized with some melancholy and maybe even a little shame, that he truly felt at home here with the Winchesters in their broken little family that Dean liked to call Team Free Will. Castiel hadn't felt like he belonged anyplace in years, maybe even decades, as much as he did there with the Winchesters.

But that also meant he had more to lose in the coming war. If either of the brothers ended up saying yes to Michael or Lucifer after everything, he felt it would break him. He had so much faith in his newfound family that he couldn't stand to have it broken. Not after everything he had already lost.

Sam and Dean were healing by the day. He had finally been able to take the splints off Dean's hands and though they still looked terrible, and he had a couple missing fingernails, it meant he could at least start to do more himself, which made Dean happy. He still wasn't allowed to drive with his leg though, so Castiel went out shopping for Bobby in town, picking up much needed supplies and food. He even got Dean pie, because he knew the elder brother would ask.

Castiel didn't sense anything wrong when he got back to Bobby's. He brought the groceries into the kitchen and started putting them away when he began to realize it was too quiet in the house—to talking, no television in the background—and he felt the prickle between his shoulder blades that told him someone was watching him. He casually closed the refrigerator door as he heard a footstep behind him in the doorway and let his angel blade slide down his sleeve into his hand as he turned.

"Hello, Castiel. I know you called before, but I was busy then. You still want to talk?"

Castiel froze as he saw Zachariah standing there with Sam. He had a fistful of the young man's hair and was pricking the underside of his throat with his angel blade. Castiel stood his ground, but didn't try to look threatening. He wouldn't risk Sam.

"I do want to talk, Zachariah, but not here. I will not allow you to hurt Sam and Dean anymore."

Zachariah seemed to find him amusing, grinning. "You won't allow me? Castiel, I don't think you fully appreciate your situation. You are nothing but a gnat to me, I should take a flyswatter to you and your incessant buzzing. He just doesn't know when to stop, does he?" He chuckled and jostled Sam in a false show of good-natured teasing before he finally released the hunter who stepped back and glared at the angel. "You want to talk, Castiel? We talk here. End this now."

He moved to the study and Castiel followed, seeing Dean sitting on the couch, rigidly, and Bobby close by in his chair, glaring daggers at the pompous angel. Sam leaned against the wall, watching worriedly.

"So Castiel, what did you want to talk about?" Zachariah asked, looking with disdain around the room, wiping a finger over a bookshelf and inspecting it for dust, wrinkling his nose.

"I wanted to talk about Mark, Zachariah," Castiel told him.

Zachariah raised his eyebrows. "Oh him? Didn't you hear? He's dead. Not nearly as effective as I had hoped though it does look like he put his best foot forward." He glanced pointedly at Sam and Dean's injuries, but shrugged. "Just can't get good help these days."

"I may have been the one cast out of heaven," Castiel said in a low voice. "But you do not conduct yourself as an angel either, Zachariah. You turn to humans to do your dirty work, giving them offers they couldn't refuse and making them torture other human beings!" His anger was rising, and his hand tightened around his blade so that his knuckles whitened. "What game are you playing?"

"What game? It's the end of the world, Castiel. Wake up! I'm just trying to get results, it's not my fault these two mud monkeys are too dense to realize what's really going on here and that they have the chance of a lifetime to stop it." He shook his head in mock sadness. "Kids these days, am I right? Some of them just need a firmer hand." He raised his hand and made it into a fist. Sam and Dean both choked and dropped to the floor, doubling up as they vomited blood.

"You son of a bitch," Bobby snarled at Zachariah as he raised a shotgun he had grabbed from behind the couch at the angel, even though it would do no good. Zachariah instantly sent the weapon flying across the room.

"Stop this, Zachariah!" Castiel shouted, Sam and Dean's gagging whimpers filling his head.

"I'm sorry, how rude of me, the punishment should be shared, of course." Zachariah released Sam and Dean only to direct the torture at Castiel. The angel suddenly felt like his insides were being ripped out his throat and he collapsed to his hands and knees, choking up blood. It tasted so coppery, so real, so…mortal. He watched it drip onto the floor, momentarily transfixed as Zachariah strode forward and grabbed Castiel by his coat lapel.

"You're barely half of an angel now, aren't you?" Zachariah sneered. "And you think you have the strength to defeat me, you mewling wretch?" He shook Castiel, his other hand gripping the lesser angel's tie. "I will say I much prefer you on your knees, Castiel. That is where you belong. In supplication to your betters."

Castiel met his eyes with cold blue ones. "I would be wary of saying you're actually my better, Zachariah."

He reclaimed his blade and swung it up, catching Zachariah across the ribs with it. The other angel jerked back with genuine shock and allowed his own blade to drop into his hand, touching his other to the bleeding wound before looking at Castiel with pure rage. "You little bastard."

Castiel rose slowly, wiping blood from his mouth. "I would suggest you leave, Zachariah."

Zachariah just looked vaguely amused. "I would suggest you beg me for mercy."

Zachariah lunged at Castiel with his blade, but Castiel ducked swiftly, and blocked the blow. He may not have been stronger than Zachariah, but he had always been a better fighter. He took a blow across the face with Zachariah's pommel, but spun with a determined snarl and struck out. He managed a glancing blow to Zachariah's right forearm before the more powerful angel looped his arm around Castiel's and threw him to the ground hard. Castiel felt the air leave his body. He rolled to get to his feet, but Zachariah grabbed the back of his coat and hauled him halfway up as he began to deliver heavy kicks to Castiel's midsection.

"You will learn your place, maggot!" Zachariah snarled, emphasizing each word with a blow. Castiel gasped as he felt ribs crack but his scrabbling hand finally found his blade again and slashed at Zachariah's leg as his attacker drew back for another kick. The more powerful angel hissed and picked Castiel up with both hands, flinging him across the room into the fireplace. Castiel felt several hearthstones crack at the force and he landed in a pile of fire pokers, gasping in agony.

"Cas!" Dean called in alarm, trying to get up to help him as he retrieved the angel's dropped blade.

"Shut up, Dean," Zachariah snapped, waving a dismissive hand at the elder Winchester who's eyes rolled up into his head and he instantly collapsed in a heap.

Castiel tried to force himself onto his elbows, groaning in pain, as Zachariah strode over to him.

"You were always defiant," the angel said in disdain as he reached down and picked Castiel up by the throat, choking him. "Never could learn obedience, no matter how many times I tried to drill it into your thick skull." He threw Castiel up and the weakened angel hit the ceiling before slamming back into the floor in a shower of plaster. He gasped, struggling to move, tasting blood again, though wasn't sure where it had come from this time.

Zachariah kicked him onto his back and straddled him, crouching down and grabbing a fistful of his shirt, shaking his head. "I'm tired of you, Castiel. I think it's finally time I just get rid of you." He brought his blade dangerously close to Castiel's throat. "But nice and slow, so you human pets can hear you scream."

Castiel caught Sam's eye as the younger man waved to him behind Zachariah's back. He was holding Castiel's blade and had blood dripping down his hand. He flicked his eyes down to the sigil he had painted on the floor next to him. Castiel understood and gave him a nod back.

"I'm not gonna lie, Castiel, I'm going to enjoy this," Zachariah was saying with a leer as he readied his blade to begin the torture, pulling open the first couple buttons of Castiel's shirt.

Sam threw the dagger to Castiel who caught it and slammed it into Zachariah's shoulder. The angel screamed in pain, as Castiel ripped his blade free and kicked Zachariah away from him before flinging himself across the room toward Sam and slamming his hand down on the banishing sigil Sam and painted on the floor. Zachariah didn't even know what hit him before he disappeared in a burst of light.

Castiel slumped against the wall, breathing heavily, his whole body singing with pain. "Thank you, Sam," he said.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked worriedly, wincing as he started to stand up and offered his good hand to Castiel. The angel took it and forced himself to his feet, trying not to take Sam back down with him.

"I'll live," the angel replied as he staggered over to Dean who was still lying on the floor as Bobby tried to rouse him. Castiel crouched and put a hand on Dean's shoulder.

"He's just unconscious," he assured the others. Dean was already stirring, and his eyes opened with a groan, flicking over everyone's faces before they landed on Castiel.

"Cas? You okay? What happened?"

"I believe you would say that I had the crap beaten out of me," Castiel deadpanned. "But Zachariah's gone for now."

Dean groaned as he attempted to sit up against the side of the couch. "Yeah, and he's probably gonna be even more pissed at you when he comes back."

"Let him," Castiel said firmly. "He's not going to take me that easily."

Dean gave him a small smile at that, then clutched his injured leg that must have been jostled in the excitement. "Uh, help me back onto the couch?"

Sam and Castiel both gave him a hand and all three of them sank down onto the couch. Castiel leaned back and closed his eyes briefly, feeling his grace sluggishly healing his abused body. It was not as swift as it should have been. At this rate it might take him a couple days to recover fully.

"You alright, son?" Bobby asked him, staring pointedly. "You took one hell of a beating."

"I'll be fine," Castiel replied. "I just need to rest for a while to allow my grace to heal my vessel unhindered."

"You don't have to go anywhere, Cas," Sam told him kindly.

"We should put up warding on the house," Castiel said, starting to get up despite the pain that shot through him at the movement. "Zachariah might try to come back."

"I can do that, you idjits just sit down and rest. I'm not completely useless, you know," Bobby told them gruffly, rolling his wheelchair over to the desk where he pulled out a pen and paper. "Just show me what to do."

Castiel drew several sigils for Bobby and the older hunter went off to ward the house as the rest of them just sat on the couch. Castiel slumped further until his head was resting on the back cushion, which felt extremely comfortable at that moment as he closed his eyes again.

"Hey, Cas?" Dean inquired.

Castiel opened his eyes, feeling vaguely annoyed to be disturbed. "Yes, Dean?"

"I'm glad you're on our side, because you can be a scary son of a bitch when you're facing someone down," the older Winchester told him.

Castiel allowed himself to smile. "Well, I believe you would call that 'faking it'."

Dean and Sam both laughed. "Well, still man, I'm glad you're part of our family," Dean told him sincerely, reaching out to clap a hand to Castiel's shoulder. Sam nodded in agreement.

Castiel didn't know what to reply. He just smiled at the two brothers—his brothers too, he supposed—and settled back on the couch to rest as he listened to the familiar chatter around him and felt a calm wash over him. He supposed that the prospect of turning human wasn't nearly so bad to think about when he had the promise of a new family to turn to.

He opened his eyes again and glance over at Dean. "By the way, Dean, I remembered the pie."

Sam laughed and Dean grinned. "You're the best, Cas."

Warmth seeped into Castiel's aching chest. For the first time in a long while, he truly felt at home.

The End

If you're looking for more, check out my S11 AU "We Band of Brothers" (currently posting). There's plenty of Cas/Winchesters family feels and fix it and Cas/Gabriel brother feels as well (and of course whump) if that's your thing ;)