A/N: Sorry I'm a little late getting this chapter up today. Thanks again to everyone who's followed, favorited, and reviewed, and to those who merely lurked. =) And another shoutout to 29Pieces for beta reading. Check out her S11 AU of Cas angst and feels. (She should be posting the last chapter soon, so if you're not already following "Three Angels Walk Into a Bar," then you don't have to endure the cliffhangers!)

Chapter 7

Castiel slept that night, despite his intentions not to do so. After Dean had cleaned and dressed the wounds to his shoulder properly, the hunter had insisted Castiel at least lie down on the couch for a bit. Castiel agreed, if only because he was exhausted, but protested that he wasn't going to take one of the two sofas that were for the Winchesters to sleep on. Dean's assenting nod had apparently only been to humor him, however, and he was asleep before Jody even returned.

He woke to a nearly empty house, having been completely oblivious to the comings and goings of the morning, a rather unnerving thought. Claire was sitting on the couch perpendicular to him, holding a glass of orange juice. Castiel pushed himself up into a sitting position. A glance out the window showed the Impala was gone, and for a split second, Castiel had the gut-wrenching flicker of fear that he'd been left behind.

"Where is everyone?" he asked, proud his tone remained level.

"Jody took Alex to school, then had to go by the station to wrap up some stuff from yesterday. Sam and Dean went to take care of the mishipeshu body." Claire let out an indignant huff. "We weren't invited."

Castiel frowned. Sam and Dean went alone? What if there was another cave-in? He understood not letting Claire go back out there, but Castiel, at least, should have gone with them.

"How's the shoulder?" Claire asked.

He gave it a tentative stretch. "All healed."

She thrust the glass of orange juice at him. "Dean said to make you drink this."

Castiel gave the cup a dubious look. "I really don't need—"

"I told him I would," Claire interrupted. "Are you going to make me break that promise?"

Castiel's jaw tightened a fraction; Claire was getting too good at manipulating him. At least now it seemed to be out of concern for him, and not trying to take advantage. He accepted the glass. Claire arched her brows pointedly until he took a sip. The juice was fresh-squeezed, and actually tasted refreshing, as he still had a little dirt coating the inside of his throat. The tartness also helped wake him up further, and Castiel glanced around for his normal clothes. He felt rather…thin, in the single black t-shirt Dean had loaned him.

He realized there were still gaping tears in his slacks, and fixed them with a spurt of grace. Now that the poison was out of his system, repairing minor things like fabric was easy. It was just…other things, that weren't so simple.

Claire blinked in surprise, and then stood up and went into the adjoining dining room. She returned with Castiel's trench coat, shredded and bloodstained. "Um, you can fix this, right?" She hesitantly offered it to him.

"Yes." He set the glass down on a side table and took the coat, running his fingers over the familiar coarse seams. With a single wave of his hand, it was good as new. Claire looked oddly relieved.

"You need a new tie," she said.

"I can fix that too."

The rumble of the Impala's engine brought Castiel's gaze to the window. He almost chided himself at the sheer relief he felt upon seeing the sleek black car pulling into the driveway; it was unfair to assume the Winchesters would simply up and leave him here.

He frowned, though, when Sam and Dean got out of the car. They seemed to be having an argument. Both of them stood in their open doors, talking over the roof of the Impala. Sam was giving his brother a mixture of exasperated glares. Dean was shaking his head as though he didn't want to hear it. Castiel couldn't hear them from the house, and his stomach inexplicably tightened. At least they didn't appear injured from another mishap in the mine.

"Well," Claire said, peering out the window too. "Better finish that orange juice before Dean comes in." With that, she retreated upstairs.

The Winchesters finally started toward the house, and Castiel picked up the glass from the side table, taking a quick gulp before the brothers reached the door. Whatever topic they'd been discussing ceased once they entered, stirring Castiel's unease.

"Hey, look who's finally awake," Dean greeted brightly. Castiel didn't miss the satisfied glance the hunter cast at the glass of orange juice.

"You should have woken me sooner," Castiel responded. "Claire said you went to take care of the body."

"Yep," Sam stepped in. "And it's done. How are you feeling?"

"I'm recovered," he insisted, and gestured to his mended trench coat. "I was in the process of collecting my clothes."

"I think Jody tried to wash some of the blood out of the shirt," Sam said. "She was wound a little tight last night. I'll ask Claire where it went. Where is she?"

Castiel frowned; he could ask Claire that. "In her room, I think."

Sam nodded, threw his brother a pointed look, and headed toward the stairs.

Castiel swallowed around a lump growing in his throat as he turned to the older Winchester. "Something wrong, Dean?"

"Nah. I need to fill up on gas before we hit the road home. Want to come with? Stretch your legs a bit."

Castiel furrowed his brow. Sitting in the Impala did not constitute stretching one's legs. But he couldn't come up with a reason to say no, and so rose from the couch and slipped his coat on. Dean's mouth quirked at him. Castiel glanced down at himself; he supposed the plain black t-shirt and beige coat looked a little odd paired together.

"Should I wait for Sam to find the rest of my suit?"

Dean waved a dismissive hand. "You're fine. Besides, he's gonna talk to Claire for a bit."

Castiel canted his head. "About what?"

Dean shrugged, and headed back out the door. "College stuff. Out of all of us, he's the best one for that."

Oh, that made sense. Castiel hoped Sam would be able to convince Claire to truly give school a chance. She'd seemed more open to it when they'd talked in the cave, but he knew all too well that wanting to face a challenge head-on wasn't the same thing as actually mustering the courage to do so.

Castiel followed Dean out to the Impala where he slid into the passenger seat. Dean turned the key in the ignition, and the familiar rumble of the engine vibrated through the seats. The gas station wasn't far, and Castiel wondered why they hadn't just waited until they were on their way out of town to fill up.

Dean slowed to a stop in front of a pump and turned off the engine, but didn't get out of the car.

Castiel looked around warily. "Um, Dean?"

The Winchester let out a long breath, and reached a hand up to rub the back of his neck, a self-conscious gesture Castiel was quite familiar with, and which made him even more nervous. What had Sam and Dean been arguing about…?

"Okay, so," Dean began. "Uh, I guess I'll start by saying you're not alone with this PTSD thing. Or the…um, flashbacks."

Castiel frowned. "Wh—"

Dean held up a hand. "Let me get this out." He shook his head. "We've all been through a lot of crap over the years. I've been in Hell; Sam's been in Hell. Purgatory was no picnic." Dean's throat bobbed. "I know you've been through your own kinds of hell, too. And…you're not the only one who's hurt people you care about."

Dean finally looked over at Castiel then, eyes awash with grief and barely held back pain. "What I did to you…sometimes I see that too. I see your blood on my hands."

Castiel's throat tightened. "I…know that was the Mark," he said quietly.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. But the fact that I was capable of that, that an outside influence could be so strong that I nearly killed my best friend…that scares me. What if I find myself in the same situation again?" Dean's eyes met Castiel's. "I'm terrified I won't be strong enough to stop it."

Castiel dropped his gaze to his lap where his hands lay. He could almost see blood on them again, and furled his fingers into fists before such a vision could take hold. "Then what do we do?" he asked hoarsely.

Dean shrugged one shoulder. "Sam thinks we need to talk about it more."

"Is that what you were arguing about when you came back?"

A muscle in Dean's cheek ticked, but then he shook it off. "I don't know, I guess my way hasn't exactly been working. Might as well try his."

Castiel fell silent for a moment. "We don't have to talk about it, Dean. It's…not exactly pleasant for me, either."

Dean let out a rueful snort. "I hear ya. But, Cas…" He half turned in his seat to face Castiel, expression oddly kind in its seriousness. "Hiding in Netflix isn't gonna make things better."

Castiel looked away again. He knew that, he did. It was just…easier, to pretend it could. "And…talking about all these horrific things is somehow supposed to make it better?"

Dean chuckled under his breath. "Hell if I know. Sounds like a bunch of bull, right? But Sam's been doing all this research on post-traumatic stress." Dean paused thoughtfully. "I guess the point is to be able to talk about it without reliving it."

Castiel's mouth thinned in contemplation. "I…suppose that sounds like a valid approach." He glanced back at Dean. "Are you sure?"

Dean nodded. "I want to help you get better. And if that means I have to suck it up myself, well, I'll do it. I'm in for the long haul here."

Castiel felt a stitch of tightness in his gut begin to unravel. He gave Dean a decisive nod in return. "Then so am I."

Dean's mouth curved in a small smile, and then he was opening his door and swiftly exiting, saying he'd better fill up before the station attendant started thinking they were idling there to rob the joint.

Castiel settled back against the upholstery. Given all the epic, potentially world-ending challenges he'd faced over the years, he never would have thought the battle within himself would be the most terrifying. His gaze flicked out the window to where Dean was filling the tank. At least he wasn't alone this time.

They drove back to Jody's house, and Sam came downstairs with Castiel's dress shirt and suit jacket. He threw a questioning look at Dean, who subtly nodded in return.

"How did your talk with Claire go?" Castiel asked, hating the feeling of being on the outside with these secret glances, especially when he knew what they were about.

Sam wasn't fazed by the question, and nodded. "Good. She's gonna talk to her professors, see if she can catch up on the work she's missed."

"Good," Dean echoed.

"It's gonna require a lot of hard work," Sam said as a caveat.

Castiel glanced at the stairs, sensing Claire at the top. "I'm sure she's up to it."

They stayed one more night—so the Winchesters could enjoy another home-cooked meal and have leftovers to take back to the bunker. Castiel didn't sleep again, and he asked to borrow Sam's laptop for the night. But instead of pulling up Netflix, Castiel thought he would look into stuff related to PTSD, just to see what was out there. Sam looked pleased when Castiel hesitantly told him that, and showed him all the bookmarked sites he'd been visiting. Castiel was stunned at how much research the young Winchester had put into this. He seemed as equally determined as Dean to see Castiel through this.

The next morning, after yet another homemade meal of waffles and scrambled eggs, they were finally ready to depart. Castiel stood in the driveway with Claire while Dean and Sam said their goodbyes to Jody up near the front door.

"Will you be alright here?" Castiel asked, glancing over Claire's shoulder to the house.

She shrugged. "I guess. I mean, it's not a bad place. A lot better than anywhere else I've stayed. Alex's even being nice to me lately."

"I'm sure she was worried about you." It seemed everyone was being nicer to each other after that harrowing experience.

"Maybe I should nearly die more often."

Castiel gaped at her. "Claire—"

"Relax, I'm only kidding." She rolled her eyes, but then her expression softened. "What about you? You gonna be okay?"

Castiel lifted his eyes to the Winchesters, who were smiling with Jody, arms full of tupperware. "I think so."

Claire folded her arms together, shifting her weight. "You know…you can text me sometimes. Let me know how things are going."

He tried not to smile too widely. "And I would like to know how your classes go."

Claire looked uncomfortable, but gave a short nod.

Castiel waited a beat. "I'm, uh, glad you called Dean for help. You…know you can always call me too. Right? Whether it's a monster or not."

"Sure." Then Claire stepped forward and put her arms around him. It only took Castiel a split second of surprise before he remembered to hug back. It felt…good, the earnest, heartfelt contact, and Claire pulled away too soon.

"Oh, and try not to have any more near-death calls yourself, alright?" she said.

Castiel's mouth twitched. "I'll do my best." Though, given his track record with the Winchesters, that would be a monumental feat.

Claire took a step back, apparently signaling to Sam and Dean that they could finally approach. They exchanged their own goodbyes with Claire, and then the three of them piled into the Impala. Castiel turned his head to watch Claire and Jody as Dean pulled the car away. The last time he had said this sort of goodbye, Claire had been the one to drive away. Castiel had let her go then because it had seemed best, and turned out it was. She had a good place with Jody and Alex, which made this parting a little easier. He knew she was in good hands.

Castiel glanced up toward Sam and Dean in the front seat. So was he.

Dean didn't mention things again, but the moment they were back in the bunker, Sam pulled Castiel aside and laid out some rules for the Netflix.

"Just at night," he said. "While Dean and I are sleeping and there's not much to keep you occupied. But during the day, we need to find something else."

Castiel frowned. "Like what? Sam, I'm not sure I'm ready to go back out there and fight…"

Sam shook his head fervently. "No, no, of course not that." He pursed his mouth in deep thought. "There's still some research to go through here on the Darkness. And we should find you a hobby."

"A hobby?"

"Yeah. Like…uh, I don't actually know." Sam shrugged. "We could try out a few things."

"But not anything girly like crochet," Dean called from the next room.

Sam rolled his eyes and lobbed back, "Is baking girly? Because if Cas wanted to bake, you could have fresh pie every week!"

Dean poked his head around the doorjamb and cocked his forefinger at them. "That's actually a good idea. Try that out first." He promptly disappeared again.

Castiel was feeling incredibly lost. "I really don't think I'm cut out for that…"

Sam flashed him a warm smile. "Don't listen to Dean. Hey, what about gardening? I was actually thinking it'd be nice to use some of the space outside for a vegetable garden, grow our own greens."

"Saaamm," Dean groaned from down the hall.

Sam rolled his eyes yet again, but turned back to Castiel. "Want to help me with that?"

Castiel shifted his weight. That didn't sound too hard, actually. And he did enjoy being in gardens. "Would it have to be only vegetables?" he asked tentatively.

"Not at all. Let's look up what grows well in this area for this season."

Sam pulled out his laptop and they settled down for the next two hours discussing flora options for Sam's garden. Or, well, for their garden, as the younger Winchester kept reminding him. And the more Castiel was occupied, the less need he felt for the distraction of television, though nights were still the hardest. Dean and Sam would take turns staying up late with him, though they'd eventually have to go to bed. Still, it made the dark hours pass more quickly, and Castiel slowly regained control of his physical and mental lapses.

Sometimes Claire would text him late at night when the Winchesters were asleep, and he would chidingly ask what she was doing up at that hour. Her response was always that she was studying, and would even share some random fact from her textbook. That, also, helped Castiel adjust, and he was immensely relieved to hear that Claire was focusing seriously on school.

He told her about the garden project he and Sam were working on, and even sent some pictures of their progress. Claire made a few suggestions of additions to make, which Castiel brought to Sam the next time they spoke.

Of course, there was still the threat of the Darkness lurking in the background, and each day of research continued to turn up nothing. Castiel knew he would have to venture out in search of other avenues eventually.

A week after returning to the bunker, a package came from Sioux Falls, addressed to Castiel. Sam and Dean watched curiously as he opened it, revealing a tie with wide, midnight blue bands bisected with silver stripes. He lifted the note that was resting on top of it.

"I get that you're attached to the Columbo look, but you can at least change the tie up every once in a while. ~Claire"

Castiel smiled, and started undoing the tie he was wearing. Once he had the new one on, though, Dean just shook his head and stepped in to straighten it.

"There, now smile." Dean held up his cell phone.

"Uh, why?"

"Because I'm gonna send Claire a picture." Dean gestured impatiently, and Castiel lifted his head, trying to force his mouth to move in one of those posing positions. It didn't feel quite right, though.

Grinning, Dean snapped the picture, and then tapped his phone a few times, presumably sending it to Claire. "I'm gonna have to quiz her, see if she's even watched Columbo."

"She already has a midterm to study for next week," Castiel protested.

"Fine, after then."

Castiel's phone pinged in his pocket, and he pulled it out to find a text message from Claire.

"Looks good."

He typed out a reply. "Thank you." He added a smiley cat face emoticon. Ever since Sam had shown him those options, he'd been using one in every message. They were much more animated than simple text.

"I'm feeling like burgers tonight," Dean said abruptly. They'd gone through the leftovers from Jody much earlier that week.

Sam let out an exasperated groan. "Fine, but just not the Elvis. I'm serious, dude, I can't eat anything with that sitting across from me."

"I can't believe you're my brother."

"Why don't we let Cas pick tonight," Sam suggested. "But no guilting him!"

Dean put a hand over his heart. "I'm wounded, Sammy."

"Yeah, in the head." Sam turned to Castiel. "So, Cas, what do you feel like eating tonight?"

They'd determined that Castiel didn't need to eat, though he could taste and enjoy food in his current…state.

He glanced between the Winchesters: Dean's puppy-eyed look and Sam's scowl at his brother tempered with a caring look at Castiel. Behind them on the table was the open box from Claire. And Castiel was struck with a realization. He'd spent his entire existence watching over others, but now…he had several people looking out for him too.

"Aren't there places that serve breakfast all the time?" he asked.

Sam looked smug. "Yes there are."

Dean's jaw worked for a moment. "Yeah, I'm down for that."

Relieved, Castiel smiled in return. He set his old tie on the table, and followed the Winchesters—his family—back out into the world.

A/N: And another happy ending. ^_^ Next up, a mid-S10 Cain/MoC AU that I hope will be rather intriguing for you all. Until Friday, mes amies!