A/N: The first half of this has not been beta'd yet, so please forgive any errors. Once my lovely ladies have worked their magic, an updated and polished version will replace this one. Since this update has taken so long to post, it's extra long. Happy Monday! XOXO

-xXx10xXx-

Over the next few days, Sam and Dean found themselves falling into a routine. It started with breakfast each morning, then Sam would do dishes while Dean teased him that his time as a busboy in Garber, Oklahoma hadn't been a total waste, since at least he'd picked up a skill. Sam would tell him to shut up, and Dean would head upstairs to give Cas breakfast and his morning pills. Sam had also insisted on a vitamin. Afterwards, Dean would sit with Cas in his room until lunchtime, the two of them usually watching TV shows and movies on Sam's laptop while Ellen and Bobby bickered downstairs. After a couple of days they changed up Cas' meds, since the Desipramine was interacting with the other pills and doing more harm than good. Emily, a young woman who the guys had saved from being sacrificed to a pagan god years before had since become a nurse in Boston, and she told them which medications would help Cas the most. She even tricked one of the doctors at Mass General Hospital into writing a prescription for it and had them send the prescription to a local pharmacy in Sioux Falls.

Sometimes, Dean would help with the cooking or washing dishes while Bobby groused about having them all underfoot. Dean could tell that, even though Bobby sounded annoyed, he was actually glad to have Ellen and the boys around. Sam helped Ellen with chores and trying to get the house into better shape; moving furniture, organizing stuff that had been tucked away upstairs in the extra bedrooms, and getting the second floor to a point where all three bedrooms could be used. That was mostly what Bobby and Ellen argued about. Bobby didn't want Ellen and Sam going through his things and making decisions about his home, but since he couldn't physically stop them, let alone get upstairs without someone carrying him, he eventually grumbled his grudging permission. It was almost like they were a normal family helping to take care of one of their own. The boys agreed that they liked it.

Most of the time, Cas was lucid, so while he was awake Ellen or either brother could sit with him. Sometimes, though, he had seriously fucked-up night-terrors, and when he woke up from one of those, there was no telling how aware he might be. If he was having a nightmare, Dean would be the one to wake him up. Then, of course, there were the hallucinations; which seemed to be happening less frequently, but they did still happen. Whenever Cas thought that he was back in that crap hole future, Dean was the only one who could snap him out of it without getting kicked or having something thrown at him.

Rufus swung by to drop Jo off four days after Sam and Dean got back. Ellen wasn't happy about the delay, but they had a good reason for taking an extra week to arrive. A couple of the vamps from the nest they'd been clearing out of Storm Lake had gotten away, and they tracked the stragglers to another nest a few towns over. They'd cleaned out the second nest with the help of a local hunter and then headed straight to Sioux Falls. Jo had a few scrapes and bruises, nothing serious, but Ellen still gave Rufus a smack upside the head, though she was kind enough to hand over a sandwich before he hit the road.

They decided it was best for Dean to keep crashing with Cas until the fallen angel had recovered, and after that, Dean would share the back bedroom with Sam. The last bedroom was around the corner from the other two and was directly upstairs from the library, so it had a bay window and a sweeping view of the yard. Cas' room was the smallest of the three, but it was the only one which was furnished and hadn't been full of junk when Cas had arrived. Since the other two rooms didn't have beds, and Ellen hadn't found enough furniture in either the attic or the basement to make them useful, she suggested that they buy some new furniture in town. Bobby didn't take that well.

"Bobby, we're not all gonna sleep on the floor, not when you have three perfectly good bedrooms upstairs."

"Damn it, Ellen. This is my house! I asked you to come here so you could help with Cas. No one said anything about buying furniture or rearranging things!"

Ellen sighed, rubbing a knuckle at her forehead. "I get where you're coming from Bobby, I do, but if I'm gonna be staying here, I'd like to have somewhere decent to sleep. I'm not as young as I used to be, and Jo and the boys deserve proper beds, too. Can't you see that letting two big bedrooms go to waste doesn't make sense?"

Bobby shook his head. "It's my home, Ellen. I don't want you to change it. Bad enough that I'm stuck in this damn chair, now you come in here and want to turn the rest of my life upside down? What am I supposed to do, huh? Be happy about that?"

Ellen put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I'll settle for you not fighting me every step of the way. I won't change anything on the ground floor, and we won't get crazy. Just the basics. Beds, dressers, one or two lamps, bedside tables and maybe a couple of good chairs."

Bobby shrugged her hand off, looked away and set his jaw. "Fine. Do what you gotta, just don't expect me to be happy about it."

She brushed a bit of fuzz off of his shirt. "Fair enough."

Sam and Dean had moved a twin bed into the library for Bobby when he was released from the hospital, and he'd been sleeping down there ever since. With everyone else bunking upstairs, Bobby would have the ground floor to himself each night after the rest of them had gone to sleep.

After a long discussion, they all agreed that Ellen and Jo should take the master bedroom. That room had almost no furniture in it, just an old chair and a folded up card table, and the floor was covered with a thick layer of dust. After getting rid of the dust, Ellen and Sam hit the Goodwill in town and got some furniture and a few good bed frames. After visiting a mattress warehouse a couple towns over, everyone had a place to sleep. While they were at Goodwill, Jo spotted a couple of things for Cas. Ellen had gone through Cas' bag at some point while she was looking after him, and the only things she'd found in it had been weapons, ammo, a couple of pill bottles, some smashed up Power Bars and a dented flask which looked like Bobby's. Since the guy didn't have any clothes besides what had been on his back when he arrived, she decided that once he was well enough, they'd take him to get some new stuff. Since Cas wasn't ready for an outing just yet, and Jo thought that he should have more than one outfit to choose from when he did finally venture out into the world, she picked up a few things which she thought he might like.

On one of the better days, Ellen, Jo and Sam were working on cleaning out the master bedroom. Since it was right next to Cas' room, and the rooms actually shared a wall, Cas could hear them moving around in there, and he said that he wanted to look in on them. Dean and Cas had been in the middle of a James Bond marathon, and were working their way through currently the Connery era when Cas said that he wanted to stretch his legs. He'd been at Bobby's for a week, and the worst of his withdrawal symptoms were starting to fade. The seizures, panic attacks, hallucinations and full-blown paranoia were gone, but he was still on edge. Aside from mood swings and trouble sleeping, it mainly seemed like Cas had a flu which refused to go away. His nose ran, he'd either have chills or be sweating, his stomach wouldn't stop bugging him, and he said it felt like he had near-constant pins and needles in his arms and legs. The medications they'd been giving him seemed to help with the worst of his anxiety and most of the pain, and having company seemed to help his mood. He told Dean that company and the movies they'd been watching were a good enough distraction from most of what he was feeling, but he was getting stir-crazy, and he wanted to try being more social. Dean wasn't enthusiastic about it.

Cas let out an irritated sigh. "Bobby and Ellen have been very good to me, Dean. Bobby didn't have to take me in, and Ellen didn't have to drop everything to come look after me, but they did, and the least I can do is walk out of this room and thank one of them."

Dean shook his head. "Dude, I get it. I've been there, with the cabin fever, so believe me when I say that I understand, but I don't know if it's a good idea."

Cas plucked at a loose string on his blanket. "Dean, I've been staring at these walls for a week. If I have to stay in here all day, every day I'm going to lose my mind," he let out a dry chuckle, "or whatever is left of it, anyway. I don't feel as crappy anymore, and I want to see what Ellen is working on."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Cas…" then trailed off when he saw that the guy was giving him Sam's trademarked Sad Eyes™. Dean let out a heavy sigh, wondering when he'd become such a pushover. "Fine. We'll see what they're up to, but you're taking the blanket, and as soon as your eyelids fall to half mast, we're coming back here."

Cas nodded and swung his legs off the side of the bed. "Okay." He tugged the blanket around his shoulders and then stood shakily.

Dean watched him, ready to give the guy a hand if he needed it. "You got this?"

Cas nodded again, hitched the blanket tighter around himself and rubbed a tissue at his nose. "Yep. Let's go."

Dean followed him out into the hall and passed him in two strides. He shook his head but didn't speak up. The guy was far from steady on his feet, but Dean understood feeling stir-crazy. If Cas wanted to go for a little walk, they'd go for a walk, and Dean would keep an eye out to make sure that Cas didn't exhaust himself. It had been shocking at first, but in the past week Dean had gotten used to how, well, frail Cas had become in what they were calling 'the bad future'. Between how skinny the ex-angel had been when he arrived and the detox, it seemed like a rough hug might snap the guy in half, and since Dean was the one looking after him, the hunter felt like it was his responsibility to keep Cas safe. Dean shook his head. It was a hell of a switch, since he was used to Cas seeming almost indestructible. This was the same guy he'd blasted full of buckshot and stabbed through the frigging heart with Ruby's knife when they first met, and now Cas was shuffling down the hall behind him, sniffling into a tissue and clutching a blanket around his shoulders like some octogenarian retiree. Hell, give the dude a rocking chair and he could pass for someone's cranky grandpa.

Dean glanced over his shoulder to give Cas an encouraging smile and then knocked on the door jamb of the master bedroom. "Hey, anybody home?"

The door was ajar, and it swung open to reveal Ellen with a smudge of dust on her cheek. She grinned when she saw them. "Hey, you two." She lingered on Cas, and her smile dimmed slightly. Her expression stayed warm, but now it was tempered with concern. "You'd better not be looking to lend a hand, Cas, 'cause we've talked about this. Dean on the other hand," She looked him up and down with a spark in her eye. "I've got no problem putting him to work."

Cas shook his head and tried to hide a shiver. "No, I just can't help hearing you moving things around in there, and I'm curious about what kind of progress you've made." Ellen gave him a knowing look, the sort that only mothers of stubborn children could truly pull off. The fallen angel gave a sigh and rolled his eyes. "I promise, Ellen. I'm a bit restless, but I won't help."

Ellen stepped aside, leaving them enough space to walk through the doorway. "I'll hold you to that, Castiel."

They moved into the room and Dean spotted his brother with a cloth in one hand and a bottle of glass-cleaner in the other. He grinned, shaking his head a little at the surreality of watching his own personal Sasquatch play window-washer. Jo was off to one side, leaning her hip against a battered easy chair, twirling a screwdriver in her hand and frowning at a partially-assembled bed frame which was laid out on the floor. A queen-sized mattress was leaning up against one wall, along with what looked like a box-spring. He looked around for the second bed and was surprised to see a futon set up on the left side of the room. Dean hadn't been part of the furniture-gathering team, and had only been roped into helping move a few things upstairs so far, so he hadn't seen most of the new furniture. There were a pair of dressers, one by the closet and another just inside the door, and a couple of bedside tables had been pushed off to the side. There were table lamps stacked on the floor, and a rolled up carpet was lying next to them, still wrapped in plastic. It wasn't fully set up, not by a long shot, but he could tell that once everything was in place, the room would be nice.

"Hey, Jo. I thought you guys were getting two beds for in here?"

She looked up at him and smiled, then shook her head. "That was the plan, but then mom found a good futon. It'll give us more room to move around in here during the day. Besides, trying to find four twin-sized bed frames for a good price without driving a hundred miles is harder than you'd think. We put the two twins we did find in your and Sam's room." She gestured vaguely toward the hall. "It's the one around the corner, with the bay window."

Sam chuckled, not turning around to look at his brother. "He wouldn't know. He's been stuck to Cas' hip ever since we got here."

Cas smirked. "I wouldn't say he's been stuck to my hip the entire time, Sam."

Once he heard Cas' voice, Sam did turn around and a big smile dimpled his face. "Hey, Cas. Good to see you're up."

Ellen moved away from the door and returned to where she had apparently been working with Jo to set up the queen-sized bed frame. "He's just stretching his legs, so don't get any ideas about making him help out." She smiled at Cas. "Castiel, this is my daughter, Jo."

Jo gave Cas a little wave. "It's nice to meet you, Cas. I've heard a lot about you from Sam and my mom, but it's pretty clear that Dean knows you best out of all of us."

Cas nodded and stepped forward with his hand outstretched. "It's nice to meet you too, Jo. I remember hearing stories about you from Future-Dean during my timeline."

Jo moved the screwdriver to her left hand and shook his hand with a smile. "Good things, or am I gonna have to kick Dean's ass?"

Dean shook his head. "I'm standing right here, ya know."

They ignored him, but he was surprised to find that being ignored didn't annoy him. Seeing this group of people together, all getting along and being happy, was a treat. It felt like, well, like home.

Sam cleared his throat and nodded to Jo, then to a lumpy shopping bag over by the futon. Her eyes widened slightly, then she smiled and went to get the bag. "Right, I almost forgot…" She came back with the bag and handed it to Cas. "I saw some stuff at Goodwill that should fit you. Since you only had the one set of clothes when you got here, these will let you mix and match."

Cas fidgeted uneasily, looking at the bag without opening it. "Jo, this is very generous, but you really didn't have to."

Ellen left her tools on the floor and stood. "Nonsense, Castiel. We couldn't very well let you try to get by with only one set of clothes. Sam and Dean practically live out of that car, but even they have changes of clothes to choose from."

Dean put a hand on Cas' back. "She's right, man. I know you haven't really been in any shape to think about practicalities like that, so just be glad that they did." Cas shook his head and Dean resisted the temptation to shake him. "Dude, as long as it all fits and you like how it looks, I'm not seeing a problem here."

Cas shrugged, glancing over at Dean and then giving Jo and Ellen a tremulous smile. "It's just… I can't remember the last time someone gave me new clothes. I'm used to Dean's castoffs and whatever we happened to find on supply runs. So, this…" he trailed off, shaking his head.

Sam nodded, reaching over to pat Cas on the shoulder. "It's a lot. I get that."

Cas huffed a laugh. "Yeah, it's a lot. I don't even know how to do laundry, except by hand."

Jo nudged him. "Bobby's got machines for laundry set up in the basement, and since laundromats clearly weren't a thing in the Apocalypse, I can show you how to work them later, if you want."

Ellen huffed, shaking her head. "Joanna Beth, when's the last time you did your own wash?"

Jo flashed her mother a sweet, sharp smile. "When I was hunting solo. It's not like I came back to the Roadhouse on weekends. Anyway, Cas, these are yours now. I hope you like 'em."

Cas nodded, sat down on the futon at Sam's urging and took the items out of the bag one at a time. Sam sat down backwards on the folding chair and rested his crossed arms on the back rest, while Jo and Ellen took seats on either side of Cas on the futon. Dean smiled to himself and remained standing. It was almost like watching someone open their presents on Christmas morning. He shook his head. They probably hadn't celebrated Christmas at Chitaqua, or anywhere else, once the Apocalypse was in full swing. His smile faded and he felt a cold weight in his stomach, hoping that this wasn't the first time Cas had ever gotten honest-to-god presents.

The first thing Cas held up was a green hoodie with a cartoon dinosaur on the front, followed by a few folded shirts and a set of cargo pants. The cargoes were faded forest camouflage and had plenty of pockets, a loop on one leg which would be perfect to keep a sheathed machete from moving around too much, and even a carabiner dangling from a pair of grommets set just below a belt loop. They were very practical, like the hoodie, but still had a bit of personality. As for the shirts, one was a cream-colored long-sleeved cotton thing.

"It'll look good with your jeans and maybe a dark jacket." Jo shrugged. "It reminded me of the blue shirt you were wearing when you got here, the one that only had buttons halfway down."

Cas rolled his eyes, not actually seeming annoyed at having to educate them. "It's called a kurta. It's based on a traditional Indian garment which people have been wearing on the sub-continent for centuries. They're loose and very comfortable, especially for moving around in hot weather."

Dean shrugged. "Well, that goes with the whole sex-guru vibe you were rocking when I found you in your cabin."

Sam quirked an eyebrow at that. "I'm sorry, what?"

Dean was about to fill Sam in when he caught a glimpse of Cas looking uneasy. He looked at Cas sidelong, hoping the ex-angel would see his reassuring nod, then turned to his brother. "Not important, Sammy."

Jo saw the exchange and cleared her throat. "I also got you a couple of tee shirts." She smiled at Cas, and Dean felt himself relax at the deft topic change. He nodded at Jo and looked at the t-shirts. One was washed-out black and had the Rolling Stones logo on it, and the other was a faded tie-dye with the Darwin fish clumsily stenciled on it. Jo offered a half smile. "You didn't seem like the Jesus-fish type, so I thought you'd like this one instead. Not sure how you feel about print and tie dye-"

"I believe the technique is called 'Batik', Jo."

She nodded, and gestured with one hand at the chair that Ellen and Sam had wrestled down from the attic. "So, Cas, d'you want to test-drive the new comfy chair, see if it lives up to it's name?"

Cas nodded, absently running his fingers over the well-worn clothing in his hands. "Yes, and... thank you both for all of this. It was very thoughtful of you, and I appreciate it." He took a few moments to compose himself, and after a number of steadying breaths he looked over at Ellen. "I also wanted to thank you for all you've done to look after me. You didn't have to drop what you were doing to come here, and now that I'm apparently through the worst of it, you don't need to stay, but I truly appreciate that you're still here and helping to make Bobby's place more like a home. It's..." his voice broke and he trailed off. Cas looked towards the windows and Dean caught his eye. As much as he claimed to hate chick-flick moments, Dean knew that sometimes they really weren't all that bad, so he gave Cas an encouraging nod. Cas smiled and turned to focus on Ellen again. "It feels good, knowing that you all care about my well-being."

"Aw, sweetie," Ellen put a hand on Cas' arm and smiled at him. Cas dropped his eyes to the well-worn Rolling Stones shirt still in his hands, and after a few moments Ellen gave an impatient huff and pulled him into a hug. At first Cas seemed startled, but it didn't take long for him to relax and wind his arms around her. "I'm just we could help. It's so good to see you on the mend." They sat like that for a little while, and Dean shifted from one foot to the other restlessly. Eventually the hug ended and Ellen sat back, smiling. "Now, how about I go put these clothes away in your room?"

Cas nodded again, seeming touched and slightly overwhelmed. "Thank you, Ellen, but I'd like to try on the hoodie." He shrugged, scowled when the blanket around his shoulders tried to slip to the floor, and gestured at it. "I suspect it will be more practical than walking around wrapped in a blanket."

She smiled at that. "Sure thing, sweetie." Ellen took the blanket from him before handing over the hoodie with a smile, and then she stepped out of the room with the rest of his new clothes while Cas shrugged into it. He struggled a little with the sleeves, so Jo chuckled and moved to help him. The brothers watched, smiling.

Sam shook his head, watching as Cas and Jo managed to get the better of the hoodie. "Last year, did you ever think we'd be doing something this domestic with Cas?"

Dean laughed. "Man, I didn't think we'd be doing anything like this two weeks ago."

Sam picked something up from the side table. "Hey, so... when we were up in the attic, we found a bunch of old family pictures. Lots of Bobby and his mom from when he was little, but only one photo of Bobby's dad."

Dean frowned. "That's weird."

Sam shook his head. "Actually, it's not all that weird. Look at it."

Right away, Dean saw Mrs. Singer's fearful body language, as well as a poorly concealed shiner. Bobby looked uneasy, and Ed Singer's posture seemed oddly aggressive. One arm was slung possessively around his wife's shoulders and the other hand was gripping young Bobby's arm just a bit too tight. A fading, brownish bruise peeked out from under the sleeve of Bobby's t-shirt, and there were half-healed scrapes on Ed's knuckles.

Dean frowned at the photo just as Ellen came back into the room. "Please tell me this isn't what it looks like."

Sam shrugged helplessly. "Wish I could. Did some digging into the old county records. Found half a dozen counts of drunk and disorderly filed against Ed Singer, nearly all of which were mysteriously dropped, and it seems that Mrs. Singer had a lot of 'accidents'."

"Accidents, huh?" Dean raised his eyebrow, prompting Sam to continue.

Sam ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah. She, uh, it looks like she ran into a lot of doorknobs."

Dean's hand closed into a fist. "That bastard."

Sam went on. "Ed disappeared when Bobby was about thirteen. Mrs. Singer had a nasty shiner and a split lip when she went to report him missing."

Dean handed the photo back. "Any idea where he went?"

Ellen shook her head, taking a seat on the futon. "Nope. No tax records for him after then, either."

Dean nodded. "So the abusive bastard disappeared. Good riddance."

Sam tipped his head in what seemed like agreement. "After that, there aren't any pictures of Bobby and his mom together. Bobby dropped out of high school a few years later and took over his old man's scrap metal business. Seems his mom died when Bobby was in his twenties, and she left him the house."

Ellen wiped her hands off on her jeans. "Yeah. Once Sam found that, it wasn't hard to understand why we didn't find an old king or queen-sized bed in the attic. I doubt Bobby wanted to keep it, much less sleep in the damn thing."

Dean nodded. "Or in this room."

"Yeah."

Dean frowned down at his hands. "I thought it was because of what happened with his wife, the reason he never used this room, but I guess that's why he doesn't use the other one."

Ellen looked fro one brother to the other, seeming puzzled. "What happened with his wife?"

Dean grimaced. He hadn't meant to let that slip. He felt weird about Sam digging into Bobby's personal life, and wasn't sure that he wanted to share what Bobby had told him after their little adventure with African Dream-root. It seemed private, and Dean didn't want to be the one to share something which Bobby might feel was personal and private. The guy was touchy enough right now, and Dean didn't want to poke the bear. "You'll have to ask him." He shot Sam a stern look. "It's not our place to say. If Bobby wants to tell you, he'll tell you."

It took a moment, but then Sam nodded his agreement.

While the three of them had been dredging up Bobby's family history, Jo and Cas had been talking. Jo was sitting on the floor and Cas was in one of the battered easy chairs which Sam and Ellen had brought down from the attic. Dean looked over when he heard laughter and saw that Jo was grinning at something Cas had said. The man in question was smiling gently, and as Dean watched, his eyes slowly closed. Jo was telling him about her first case, the one she ran off to work with the brothers in Philadelphia. Dean drifted over to listen to how Jo told the story, but kept his focus on Cas. Cas nodded and made comments at the appropriate times, but his eyes didn't open. Dean shook his head. Damn stubborn angel.

Dean took a step towards them and cleared his throat loudly enough for it to be obvious that he was trying to get their attention. Jo turned enough to look at him, and Cas opened one eye. Dean raised his eyebrows in a silent challenge before he spoke. "Okay, Cas. I think it's time we let them get back to work."

Cas nodded and started to rise from the chair. He wobbled slightly, smiled when Jo put a steadying hand on his arm, then righted himself and stood up. He headed for the door and Dean fell into step beside him. They were halfway to the door when Cas paused and turned around. "Thank you again for the clothes, Jo, and the conversation. It was very nice to finally meet you."

Jo smiled at Cas. "It was nice to meet you, too. And, y'know, thanks for pulling Dean out of Hell. He means a lot to all of us."

Cas gave a short laugh. "That might be the last order that Heaven gave me which I was perfectly content to follow. Dean has a habit of complicating things, but it's usually for the better."

Ellen wiped her hands off and shook her head. "So I've noticed."

Dean gave Cas a gentle nudge towards the hallway. "C'mon, buddy." Cas took the hint and started walking again. They got back into the hall, made a quick left and then they were back in Cas' room.

Ellen gave Sam a look once the two of them had gone through the doorway. "There anything going on with those two?"

Sam shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. Haven't asked, but Dean and Cas have always had a… connection."

-XxXxX-

Cas looked around the too-familiar bedroom and made a face as though he'd bitten into something sour. "It was nice to get away from this wallpaper for a while."

Dean nodded to himself, spotting where Ellen had put Cas' new clothes. They were on top of the dresser, neatly folded with the shirts next to the single pair of pants. Dean remembered that Ellen had moved most of Bobby's clothes downstairs, both to make things easier for Bobby and to make the room more hospitable for Cas, so he reasoned that the dresser must be at least partially empty. He figured that she'd only put the clothes in plain view, instead of in one of the empty drawers, so that they'd be easy to find. He reminded himself to put the clothes away in the near future. "Yeah, and it looked like you enjoyed talking to Jo."

He nodded, shuffling towards the bed. "I did. She's an impressive young woman. Reminds me of you, but with fewer psychological issues."

Dean shook his head. "Watch it, angel. If you aren't nice to me, I'll make sure you don't get any dessert."

Cas sat down on the bed and smirked, "I'm sure Ellen would sneak me some pie if I ask."

"We'll see about that." Cas started to lie down, and Dean shook his head. "I know it's comfy, man, but you're gonna get way too hot if you sleep in the hoodie."

Cas grumbled but sat back up and struggled his way out of the dinosaur hoodie. "It really was thoughtful of them to buy clothes for me." The ex-angel's voice was muffled by the layers of cotton which were bunched up around his head and shoulders. The opportunity was just too good to pass up, and Dean gave in to the temptation to snap a picture of Cas with his phone. He saved the picture and slid his phone back into his pocket before Cas managed to put the hoodie aside. "It hadn't occurred to me until now, but the clothing I arrived with wasn't going to be be a practical wardrobe. Not indefinitely, anyway."

"Yeah, I'm glad they thought of it." Dean took the hoodie and hung it up in the closet on one of the many empty hangars. After a moment's thought, he put Cas' bag in the closet too, setting it on the floor in front of Bobby's boots and sneakers. Since the room was essentially Cas' now, he figured they should move him in as much as possible. It was more symbolic than anything, since the guy didn't have much in the way of possessions, but Dean wanted it to be clear that Cas wasn't an unwelcome guest or just crashing, that he felt like he belonged there. "Maybe when they're done with the big room, we can see about getting some new wallpaper for in here. A pattern that you actually like." When he turned back around, Cas was lying down under the covers and was fussing with the pillows.

"The pattern itself is inoffensive, I'm just tired of looking at it."

Dean nodded. "I get that, but this is pretty much your room, now, so I figure you should get a say in how it looks."

Cas's eyes slipped shut. "Nice thought, but I wouldn't know where to start. I've never considered interior decorating as a hobby."

He moved back towards his chair, turning off the overhead light along the way and flicking on the bedside lamp. It gave off enough light for him to read by while leaving the room dim enough for Cas to fall asleep without any problems. "Well, you could scrap the paper and just pick a color you like."

Cas hummed at that. "I've always found blue soothing, but I like green too. Your eyes are green."

Dean sat down in the chair and rolled his eyes. "Sleep, buddy. I'll wake you up when it's time for your pills." He picked up his battered copy of 'Cat's Cradle' and settled in, propping his feet up on the side of the bed and tucking a pillow behind his back.

Cas gave a sleepy smile. "What about the pie?"

Dean laughed in spite of himself and nudged Cas' leg through the blankets. "Don't push it."

-xXxXxXx-

Of course, there were also bad days.

Two days after Jo arrived, Ellen caught Cas rummaging through the bathroom medicine cabinet for pills. Ellen took him by the arm and herded him back to bed. When Dean heard about it, he headed straight upstairs and burst into Cas' room, shoving the door open so hard that it bounced off the wall. A few bits of plaster were knocked loose from the wall and bounced off of Dean as he stalked towards the bed.

"Dammit, Cas! Do you even want to get clean?"

Cas glared up at him with reddened eyes. "No, I don't! YOU were the one who insisted I stopped being - what did you call it? - 'a fucking junkie'. This wasn't my idea, Dean! I didn't ask for this, for any of this. I didn't even ask you to save me from those damn croats!"

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face and started pacing by the foot of the bed. "Come on, Cas, you don't mean that..."

Cas spread his arms wide, palms facing the ceiling. "How would you know what I mean? You barely know me, Dean! You just think I'm some fucked up future-version of Castiel. You only care about me because you care about him!"

Dean faltered mid-step. That wasn't true. That wasn't fucking true, and Cas knew it. He turned to glare at the fallen angel. "What was I supposed to do, huh?! Just let you die?"

Cas sat up, shifting around so he was kneeling on the mattress. "YES!"

Dean braced his hands on the foot board and leaned forward, aggressively getting in Cas' face. "I am NOT your fucking Fearless Leader, Cas! I can't do that, and you know it!"

Cas glared right back at him, jaw set and not saying a word.

Dean pushed himself away from the bed and stared at the wall, wanting to punch or stab somebody. He wanted to throttle Cas, but that wouldn't help to convince the guy that Dean cared about him. Kicking Cas' stubborn junkie ass would do exactly the opposite, and Dean knew it. "I couldn't let the croats kill you, and I damn well ain't gonna let you kill yourself now!"

"And why not?"

Wasn't it obvious? He whipped back around. "Because you're family, you stubborn son of a bitch!"

Cas just stared at him with narrowed eyes, unmoved by the outburst and suddenly seeming very calm. "You've known me for less than a week, Dean. How could I possibly be 'family'?"

Dean started pacing again. Aside from fighting something or throwing crap around, it was the only way he knew of to work off the excess energy from his anger. "Actually, we've known each other for over a year, Cas. You're still the same son of a bitch who pulled me out of Hell, who went against frigging Zachariah to help me and Sam. Back before me and Sam went our separate ways, you trusted me, Cas. Why won't you trust me now?"

All the energy seemed to drain out of Cas at that. He shook his head and got back under the covers, half-heartedly punching one of the pillows before resting his head on it. "Even when we first met, you never tried to get to know me, Dean. It was all business, always about what I could do for you. I turned against my family, I lost my home, all for you, and I had to beg you to help me with Raphael."

Okay, that one hurt. He hadn't really tried to get to know Castiel. Sure, the angel had confided in him once or twice, but he'd zapped off right afterwards, so it wasn't Dean's fault that the conversations hadn't been more in-depth. As for the rest of it, well, there was always so much going on that they'd never really had time for a round of 'getting to know you', and the Raphael thing… Dean couldn't deny that Castiel had begged him to help. Granted, at the time Dean hadn't understood why it was so important to corner the archangel, and he hadn't understood that Castiel didn't have anyone else to turn to, but he still knew that it had been shitty of him to refuse. He'd been messed up about parting ways with Sam, and he'd taken that out on Castiel, which was a dick move. Still, the whole 'you don't know me' thing really pissed him off, so even though Dean knew that he wasn't fully in the right, he wanted to get a few jabs of his own in.

"Well, if we don't know each other, why were you being so friendly earlier, huh? Zombie land make you that much of a slut?"

Cas aimed a tired glare up at him, not even raising his head from the pillow, and it was hard to tell, but the guy actually seemed a little hurt by that dig. "The only reason you're trying to help me is because you feel guilty that you didn't say 'yes' to Michael, and you think that decision is why I turned into this," he gestured at himself, "so why don't you just fuck off and let me make my own decisions for once?"

Dean just stared at him. Cas glared right back, then turned onto his side, facing away from Dean and glaring at the wall. After a long moment, Dean managed to uncurl his fists. "Fine. I'll fuck off and let you stew, but I'm gonna come back sooner or later, and when I do, you'd better still be breathing."

Dean left the room, managing not to stomp as he walked down the hall. He stopped by the upstairs closet and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back. He counted down from ten and flexed the fingers of his free hand. He frowned, noticing the little half-moon indentations his nails had left in the meat of his palm. He was terrified that the next time he went into the room, Cas would have fucked off to parts unknown, or worse, that he'd find the guy dead. He, Sam and Ellen had done their best to make the second floor suicide-proof. There weren't any sharp objects in any of the rooms, and although the bathroom had medicine and cleaning products, they knew that Cas couldn't die from poisoning or an overdose. Not even drinking drain cleaner would kill him. He'd said it was one of the perks of being a former angel, along with immunity to all viruses and bacteria. Still, it would be easy enough for the guy to break a window and slit his wrists with the glass. Dean shook his head. Whether Cas liked it or not, someone was going to be watching over him at all times from now on.

He was still leaning against the closet door when he heard footsteps on the stairs. The giant footsteps could only belong to his brother. Dean opened his eyes and saw a worried Sam coming his way.

"Hey."

Sam shook his head. "Hey yourself. So, that sounded bad."

Dean nodded, not too surprised that they'd been overheard. "How much did you hear?"

Sam lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. "Enough. We heard how loud it got, but we could only make out one word in three. So, how bad is it?"

Dean let out a breath. "Well, he's pissed off that I saved him from the future, he's pissed off that I'm forcing him to detox, and he thinks I should have let him die. Oh, and apparently, I only care about him because he's Castiel: zombie land edition."

Sam gave a sympathetic grimace. "Owch. What do you need?"

Dean pushed off from the wall. "I'm thinking we should put him on suicide watch, just in case. Could you sit with him? Or, I dunno, if he needs time to cool down just sit in the hall or whatever. Pretty much the only way he could kill himself would be breaking a window and using the glass, but you'd hear him breaking a window from out here, so…"

Sam put a hand on his shoulder. "I've got this, Dean. Go downstairs, have some food, talk to Bobby or Ellen, whatever you need to do. Just… take care of yourself for a while. I won't let anything hurt him, and if he does hurt himself, I'll handle it."

He smiled at that, swallowing a traitorous lump in his throat. "Thanks, Sammy."

-xXxXxXx-

When Dean got downstairs, he headed straight for the kitchen. He passed the library on his way and saw Bobby and Jo sharpening some machetes at the desk. They both gave him half smiles and sympathetic nods, which only made him walk faster. It sucked, knowing that everyone had overheard him and Cas yelling, and he didn't want to deal with their pity or curiosity. Ellen was in the kitchen when he got there, busy putting away a load of groceries. Since there were so many people staying at the house, Ellen had even started using the old overflow freezer in the basement.

She gave him a smile over her shoulder. He wanted to head for the fridge to grab himself a beer, but Ellen was putting things away and he didn't want to push her aside. Instead, he leaned against the counter and shoved his hands into his pockets. Ellen shifted things around inside the fridge and then held out a bottle for him.

Dean took it, frowning at the label. "What's this?"

Ellen stood, closed the fridge and nodded. "That's ginger beer."

He tilted his head slightly, eyes skimming over the label as he tried to work it out. "So, beer made with ginger?"

She shook her head and started putting cereal and herbs away in the kitchen cabinets. "Nope. It's basically just really strong ginger ale. Less bubbles, and it's a little spicy. Tastes good and it helps with upset stomachs, so I figured I'd stock up."

Dean shrugged, fishing a bottle opener out of his pocket and popping the top. "Well, not the kind of beer I was thinking of, but I'll give it a try."

Ellen chuckled and put away the shopping bags, hanging them by the back door. "I'm starving. Shopping is hungry work. D'you want anything, sweetie?"

"Any of that chili left?"

Earlier that week, Ellen had made a second batch of her chicken and ginger chili. She nodded and ruffled his hair. "I think there's just enough left for us to share." She got the last jar of chili out of the fridge and pulled two bowls out of the kitchen cabinet.

"So," Dean sipped his non-beer, licked his lips and had another mouthful. "When are you gonna ask me about Cas?"

She didn't turn around. "I'm not."

He put the bottle down. "C'mon, you can't tell that me you're not curious."

Ellen chuckled, still working on pouring chili into the bowls. "I'm damn curious, but I know better. You'll tell me if and when you want to, and not a minute sooner. Bugging you about it won't do a damn bit of good."

Dean fiddled with the bottle, turning it in place on the table and watching as the ring of condensation from the glass helped the bottle to slide more easily across the tabletop. He wasn't sure what to say. He was glad that Ellen wasn't poking at him like he'd expected her to, but he wasn't sure if he was happy that she knew waiting him out was the best strategy. "Guess you know how to read me, huh?"

Ellen smiled at him over her shoulder. "Sometimes." She put both bowls into the microwave and set it for about ninety seconds, then joined him at the table while their food heated. "Prodding you just makes you clam up, but when you want to talk, there's no stopping you. Besides, you're the one who mentioned Cas, so I'm guessing you want to talk about it. Maybe get my two cents." She squinted at him, angling her head so he was forced to look her in the eye. "How am I doing so far?"

"A little too good." He took another swig, enjoying the different kind of burn which came with this drink. It was a bit spicy, and his liver wouldn't hate him for it, so that was a plus.

The microwave beeped and Ellen stood to get their food, which meant that he had a few moments where her warm brown eyes weren't boring into him. He watched her as she opened the silverware drawer. 'Take care of yourself for a while,' that's what Sammy had said, and now Ellen was just… she was listening, making food for him and just being so damn maternal that he didn't know how to handle it.

"He's angry."

Ellen sat back down and slid a bowl and spoon across the table to him. "About what?"

Once he'd started talking, he didn't want to stop. It was stupid, really. All the effort he put into keeping his emotions locked down, but he always wound up coming clean eventually, and he always seemed to forget how good it felt to get whatever crap it was off his chest, especially if the person he was talking to actually gave a rat's ass and wanted to help. "He thinks I don't care about him, that I'm only looking after him because I feel guilty." Dean ran a hand through his hair, gripping his fingers so tightly that his nails dug into his scalp. He huffed out a bitter laugh. "He's pissed that I saved him, that I brought him here and didn't give him a choice about getting clean. He wants to start popping pills again. I think he…" Dean took a deep breath, pressing his eyes shut. Sure, he'd already basically put the guy on suicide watch, but this felt different somehow. "I think he might even want to die."

Ellen just nodded and dug in to her chili. "Well, most of that sounds about right."

He felt his stomach drop. "What?" He'd been expecting reassurance, or 'oh, he doesn't really mean it', not 'yeah, that's about right.'

She shook her head and shrugged. "Most of the drunks I've known say those kind of things, and worse, when they're getting clean. All they can think about is how bad they're hurting, and that the people who are keeping them from drinking or doing drugs are the reason they feel so awful. That's part of why they lash out at whoever's around them. Once they've gotten through it, though, most of 'em are proud of themselves for getting clean and grateful to their friends. I wouldn't take anything he says right now to heart, Dean. He might not mean it later."

Dean shook his head. "He's right, though, Ellen. I didn't give him a choice, about any of it, and I dunno, maybe I should have."

Ellen gave him a careful look. "Do you think you were wrong to save him? Or wrong about bringing him back in time?"

He shook his head again. "Hell no, I just… I guess I should have asked if it was what he wanted. He said he wanted to hunt with us, but I put my foot down, said he couldn't hunt with us if he was high…" He fiddled with his spoon, watching how light reflected off the metal as it moved. "Which might be stupid, because he was drunk and on uppers when we went on that damn suicide run. He was the one driving, and we got there in one piece, and once we got there I saw him field-stripping his weapon. I watched his hands, Ellen. He was rock-steady."

She nodded and gave him a patient smile. "Well, maybe you should tell him that."

He huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, I guess I should."

Ellen patted his hand. "But first, you've gotta eat your lunch. Give yourself time to cool down and think hard about what you want to say. Don't go in there angry."

Dean nodded and scooped up a spoonful of chili. "Going in hot didn't exactly work out well last time."

She smiled. "Yeah, we all got that impression. You boys sure can shout."

He chased his mouthful of chili with some of the ginger beer. "Yeah. Cas fits right in around here."

-xXxXxXx-

Dean went back upstairs about two hours later, when it was time for Cas to take his afternoon pills. Ellen could have given them to him easily enough, and she had offered to bring them up, but Dean didn't want to let things fester between himself and Cas. That fight had opened up some wounds, and as much as he hated talking about feelings and crap, Dean knew that, in this case, it was better to just nut up and have the chick-flick moment.

He passed Sam, who was sitting on the floor and reading a paperback of something by Vonnegut.

"Kilgore Trout? Really?"

Sam shrugged, dog-earing a page and tucking the book under his arm. "I wanted to know what you and Chuck were talking about."

Dean nodded to him and offered him a hand up. Sam stood, dusted himself off and wished Dean good luck before rolling his neck and heading for the bathroom.

Dean knocked on the door with one knuckle, then waited for a response. He didn't even try to nudge the door open until Cas offered a very reluctant invitation.

"Hey."

Cas was facing away from the door, and he didn't make a move as Dean stepped into the room. The only acknowledgement he gave of Dean's presence was a grunt.

Dean rolled his eyes but didn't let himself be baited. "It's time for your meds. I brought you a shake, too. You said you liked the strawberry ones, so…" he trailed off, shaking his head when Cas didn't respond. "Please sit up, Cas."

Nothing.

"Look, Cas… I'm sorry that I didn't give you a choice about coming back in time. I thought that it was the right thing to do and what you'd want, but I should have asked, so that's on me. I probably should have given you a choice about the detox, too, so I'm sorry about that." Dean fidgeted by the door, feeling like an idiot when he didn't get any kind of reply. "So, Ellen and Bobby say you're through the worst of the detox, and I figure, since you're almost done with it, why not try to finish? Just see this thing through, and then once you're back on your feet if you decide that you want to start using again, I won't give you a hard time and I'll try not to judge you for it." He paused, wetting his lips. "What do you say?"

Cas turned to face him then, blinking suspiciously up at Dean. "Do you mean that?"

"Yeah." Dean nodded, feeling some of his tension ease away. At least Cas was listening instead of yelling or keeping up with the silent treatment.

Cas narrowed his eyes. "Which part?"

Dean frowned, not understanding. "Which part what?"

Cas sighed and sat up clumsily, tugging at the sheets once he was leaning against his pillows. "Which part did you mean?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "All of it, man. I meant all of it. I mean, if you decide that you want to start using again, popping pills or drinking like a fish, I can't promise that I'll be okay with it, but I'll try to keep my mouth shut. And if you need to smoke a joint every once in a while to," he gestured towards his own head, making a vague circle in the air, "to deal with the crazy shit in our lives, that's fine by me."

Cas nodded at that and held his hand out for the shake and the paper cup with the pills. Dean handed them both over and watched as Cas took his meds. "And for the record, I don't feel guilty that other-me didn't say 'yes' to Michael. I hate the fact that in that future I allowed myself to become that guy, someone who doesn't care about human lives anymore. I mean, saving people has always been our thing, so to let that happen to my friends... happen to you, hell, to do that to you, I just can't understand it."

Cas fiddled with the paper cup, not meeting his eyes. "You, in that future, you had to make a lot of hard decisions."

Dean shook his head. "That doesn't make it right. Look, I just want you to be okay, man. All I want is for you to be breathing and happy. And you were right. It's your life, and I don't have the right to make decisions for you, so I'm gonna stop doing that. You fought for free will, Cas. Hell, you died for it. Only seems right that you should get to make your own choices."

Cas squinted at him, doing that oh-so-familiar head tilt, and then finished off the shake.

Dean fidgeted slightly, then gestured at the chair. "Is it okay if I sit down?"

Cas watched him carefully for a few long moments before giving a slight nod. He scooted over towards the far side of the bed, gave a crooked smile and patted the covers. Dean rolled his eyes, smiling despite himself, and accepted the invitation. Once he'd joined Cas on the bed, Dean grabbed his laptop from the chair and opened it. The desktop blinked to life and Dean's cursor hovered over the playlist he'd put together.

"So, more Star Trek?"

Dean had put together a list of essential movies and TV shows when he'd started sitting up with Cas during the day. First, they'd tried to watch some classic Batman, from the 90's, but the colors in those were too trippy and they had freaked Cas out. After that, they'd started the James Bond movies, but Cas had too many traumatic memories which involved gunfire and explosions, so after Thunderball, they'd shelved Bond, too. Star Trek had been next on the list, and Cas really seemed to like it. He enjoyed the idea of a utopian future, which made a lot of sense, since he'd already lived through a dystopian one. They had already polished off the original series and the first five Trek movies in about a week. Cas hadn't been fully lucid for the series, but since so much of the early stuff was grade A cheese, that wasn't really a problem. Now they were working their way through season 1 of The Next Generation.

Cas nodded, stuffing a pillow behind his shoulders. "Beam me up, Scotty."

Dean chuckled. "Wrong ship, dude."

Cas rolled his eyes. "Well, they don't have one person working as the transporter tech on Picard's ship, so-"

"O'Brian, man. He's the transporter chief on the NCC-1701-D."

Cas nudged Dean with his elbow. "Just play it."

They watched the teaser in comfortable silence, and when the opening credits started, Dean looked sidelong at his friend. Cas' eyes were fixed on the screen, watching as the parade of planetary bodies and comets gave way to the names of the main cast.

"Hey," Dean started, nervously catching his lower lip between his teeth while he took a breath. When he exhaled, Cas was looking at him, face all wary curiosity. Dean took another breath and nervously drummed his fingers on the mattress. "Are we good?"

Cas seemed confused for a few moments, then he nodded. "Yeah. We're good."

Dean let out a relieved breath. "Okay, awesome."

Cas chuckled and shifted closer, moving until he could comfortably rest his head on Dean's shoulder.

Dean rolled his eyes but didn't move away. "Dude, seriously?"

Cas gave a lazy shrug. "Hey, you said that you want me to be happy. This makes me happy."

Dean craned his neck, tried to get a look at Cas' face without dislodging the guy. "Happier than getting high and conning half a dozen chicks into an orgy?"

That got a chuckle. "Yeah, actually. This is much better, and cleaning up afterwards is easier, too."

Dean gave a half-laugh, half-sigh, and resigned himself to the situation. "Y'know, if anyone, and I mean anyone had told me a year ago that we'd be doing this, I'd have thought they were fucking nuts."

Cas pinched his arm. "Shut up, it's starting."

A/N: Sam was a busboy in Garber, OK in 5x03 'Free To Be You And Me'. Emily was the girl who Sam and Dean saved from being sacrificed to the Vanir/scarecrow god in 1x11 'Scarecrow'. At the end of that episode, they put her on a bus to Boston, and since there are so many hospitals in the area (and she never mentioned what she was interested in for a career) I've made her a nurse. As for Sam's detective work looking into Bobby's parents, here's my thinking: Mrs. Singer told Bobby that he would go to Hell for killing his father in 7x10, so I doubt their relationship was good after that, but she was still his mother and didn't want him to get arrested, so Mrs. Singer would have had to report her hubby missing in order to protect Bobby. I don't plan on Sam and Dean finding out about the patricide, since short of digging up the grounds for no reason, there's no good excuse for them to find out. Besides, Bobby should get to keep some of his secrets. As for the Vonnegut, in 4x18 Chuck and Dean have a brief exchange about Vonnegut and Chuck compares his current book to 'Kilgore Trout.' Since Sam didn't seem familiar with the title or author, I think he might have chosen to read it in his new-found downtime. I love that Dean is a nerd AND a geek in canon, so I'm playing that up with Vonnegut and Star Trek. Yes, Dean is more than just a casual Trekkie. It was established in 6x18 'Frontierland' when he said "Let's Star Trek IV this bitch!"