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Castiel lay more on than off the bed with the Winchesters looking down on him.
"He's really hurt, isn't he?"
Dean glared at his baby brother, "No shit, and it all our fault... my fault," Dean sighed. "Come on, help me get that damn trench off him."
Sam nodded and between the two of them they got the trench and suit jacket off as well as his shoes. Dean held Cas as Sam pulled down the bed covers, then the two of them pulled the limp angel up the bed and under the cheap sheet and blanket combo.
Taking a deep breath, "Why don't you get your own room tonight, Sammy?"
"Why?" the younger Winchester asked, brows raised in confusion.
"because after that little meet and greet with the folks, not to mention the angel invasion, I don't think either of us needs to be sleeping on a cot or the floor."
Sam knew Dean was right, but it didn't mean there wasn't an ulterior motive.
Just then Cas moaned, cutting off the discussion.
Dean was at the angel's side a moment before Sam.
Something in Dean's bearing made Sam stand back. He watched as Dean pushed Cas' mussed hair from his face and jumped when Dean barked orders at him.
Dean leaned over his angel, trying not to seem too possessive in front of his brother, so he simply swept his angel's hair back from his face and told Sam to get towels. His brother didn't move, seemingly lost in thought. Dean tried again, his tone sharper, "Sam! Towels."
"Uh, yeah, sorry." Sam darted off to grab the towels from the bathroom. When he returned, Dean was sitting at the head of the bed, hand resting affectionately on Cas' head. He turned when he heard Sam return, and reached out for the towels. "Thanks, man."
"Sure." His lower lip curled up over his upper teeth in an expression he normally reserved for ‘conversation he didn't want to have, especially with Dean.' Instead, he took in his older brother tending to the injured angel and smiled, "Hey Dean, you got this covered?"
"Yeah Sammy, just gotta make sure feathers here doesn't bleed out through his mouth before he can recoup, no big. Hey, can't be any worse than when you had chicken pox," Dean teased.
"Fine," Sam laughed as he spoke. "I'll go get another room. Take care of Sleeping Beauty." Sam grabbed his duffle and with a wave headed for the offices to get his own room for the night.
No sooner than the door closed behind Sam, Dean's entire demeanour changed. He slid down slightly to a more comfortable position next to his angel.
"Damn-it, Cas," he cursed.
Carefully, Dean pulled Cas up and slid behind him. "You do know what a complete dick you are." He wiped blood from the angel's mouth for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. "You're a bigger dick than Zack and almost as big a dick as Michael. You know why? Because I don't need them to get through this!" Dean growled even as he continued his gentle ministrations.
As if in answer, Castiel's head lolled onto Dean's chest, his body seeming to curl into Dean's warmth.
"Stupid angel," Dean breathed and began loosening Cas' tie even further, then laid his arm over Cas' chest, telling himself that it was merely to secure the angel and had nothing to do with wanting to feel the reassuring beat of his all too human heart.
As he had hours earlier, Dean kissed Castiel's head, laying his own against the angel's. Soon Dean was dozing, lulled into sleep by Cas' shallow breath and slowly tattooing heart.
Castiel awoke a few hours later, jolting himself upright, drawing in a large gulping gasp of air, and scaring Dean half to death.
"Hey. Cas, calm down," Dean said, trying to get his own heart rate down. "We're back, all of us. You're gonna be okay." ‘Then I'm gonna kick your angelic ass,' Dean thought not really caring that he still didn't know if the angel could hear him.
"What happened?"
Dean sighed and pulled the angel back to lean on his chest once more, "Anna killed Sammy. Michael showed up, blasted Anna, wiped Mom and Dad's memories, fixed Sammy, and sent us back here.
Then you showed up and damn near died in my arms- AGAIN."
"I'm sorry Dean." Cas allowed himself to be tugged into the warmth of Dean's body. "I didn't want to distress you with such things."
"Things like my angel slowly killing himself for me?" Dean arched an eyebrow.
Castiel nodded, for once understanding Dean's irony.
Dean turned Cas to face him, "Tell me."
The look of confusion on Castiel's face was endearing or some other equally chick-flick worthy word that Dean refused to acknowledge.
Instead he replied, "Tell me how bad it is."
"Dean, I don't see how..." Castiel shook his head deliberately.
"Cas! It matters to me." Dean came just short of beating his head against the wall in frustration. "I won't have your blood on my hands." Other thoughts screaming in the hunter's brain went unsaid.
"Dean, this was my choice," Cas used his gruff voice, so good at instilling fear, to sooth and hopefully calm his hunter.
Dean grit his teeth, "That's not the point." Unconsciously, he tightened his grip on the angel. "Cas, I can't do this without you."
"Dean, you are more that strong enough..."
"Just stop it, Cas," his voice eerily quiet and soft. "Of all the angels, I had to get the thickest one."
Dean took a deep breath, locked his hazel eyes with the angel's, "Just tell me you know how to kiss."
The next thing Cas knew Dean's lips were on his, warm and wanting, tasting vaguely of beer, but mostly undeniably Dean. It took Cas a moment to let the pieces slip into place and just as Dean began to pull back, Castiel pressed forward trying to match the desire he felt in Dean's lips with his own.
They were panting, foreheads pressed together; a warm hand curled around Cas' neck, fingers stroking the hair lightly, when Cas finally answered his hunter, "I am familiar with the mechanics," he admitted shakily. "I'm sure given the opportunity, I could master it."
"Stupid angel," Dean pulled his angel back in for another kiss.