Fallen.

The Return.

The rain splattered against the window as Dean tried aimlessly to get some sleep in what he was certain was going to be another restless night. Though he’d never been a big sleeper, something his teenage self would often blame his dad for as would his adult self on occasion, the last few weeks with Sam recovering (he hoped)  from the trials at a painfully slow pace and Cas… well he’d tried not to think about that. ‘that’ referring to the fact that he didn’t know whether his best friend, the person who saved him from freaking hell for god’s sake, had been killed or worst. The image of the countless inflamed wings hurtling from above was one that had haunted Dean constantly and, unlike his other nightmares, seemed to be increasing in vividness and strength rather than dwindling away.

Just as the hunter thought he’d got into as comfortable position, both mentally and physically, as he thought were possible given the circumstances, a single, weak thud could be faintly heard coming from the bunker door. Tuned to react to such a noise, even one as virtually none existent as this, Dean picked up the knife, from under his pillow (his lifestyle had taught him that, as cliché as it sounds, it is most definitely better to be safe than sorry) and slowly walked to the door, making sure to be aware of any possible noises or movements that could give him some idea of who or more likely what was there.

After no such sign was found, dean slowly, armed with his knife, edged the door open.

“Wha-“ was all Dean could utter before the dishevelled figure feel fell forward and he was forced to drop his weapons to avoid any further injury, both to himself and the fallen angel (though he wasn’t quite sure in how many ways that was true just yet) now in his arms.

“Cas?!” he asked, in what he hoped was a relatively calm manner and, as it happened, the opposite of what he internally wanted to yell out.

The angel- not that he particularly looked like one at the moment- inclined his head upwards slightly to look Dean, whose face was unusually close (so much for personal space) in the eyes before muttering a slurred “sorry” in what seemed to be the last of his strength before passing out completely.

Having cleaned Cas and tended to his various wounds as best as he could with the whisky and sewing utensils he had on offer, Dean gingerly placed the seemingly, unsure of the politically correct or, hell Sam, any term for that matter, not angel onto his own bed.

It was only now that he got a proper chance to look at him. The state he had arrived in and the urgency of medical help his injuries needed had left Dean without fully comprehending what, or rather who, had just happened. Castiel. His, regardless of his current status which the hunter was still unable to decipher, angel. His friend who had been gone for so long, even by Cas’s standards, and due to the recent events, he had just about given up on. Yet, here he was, albeit in less than top notch condition and he had, once again, returned to them. Returned to Dean.

The hunter was suddenly filled with a wave of emotion as he looked at the mess of brown hair spread over his pillow and even dirtier than usual and somewhat blood stained trenchcoat lying beside the bed.

Certain that Cas was in a deep slumber and Sam wasn’t going to be getting up anytime soon, he practically lived in his bed lately, dean muttered the words, “This time, I’ll watch over you.” to the sleeping form on the bed and pulled up a chair to sit beside it.

It was in the early hours of the morning that dean was awoken- right, so now he was allowed some sleep- by a small amount of shuffling beside him.

Looking down, he saw a pair of squinted, bright blue eyes force themselves slowly open and heard a few faint whines as the figure tried to stretch slightly beneath the duvet (and above his memory foam mattress, don’t  forget).

“Feeling better” he asked, softly.

“Dean?” Cas murmured, clearly still half unconscious.

“mhm, your safe now Cas” he said, a small smile escaping his mouth.

“I.. I..” he croaked as Dean, quite forcibly in fact, placed a tall cup of water by his mouth, encouraging him to take a sip.

“Its all my fault” is all he could manage.

“No. It’s not.” The smile quickly vanishing in replace of a concerned, worried frown, “Whatever happened Cas, I know you didn’t mean it. You were tricked.”

“I should have listened to you.”

There were tears forming in his eyes now as Cas tried, as coherently as he could manage, to force out an apology.

Overwhelmed by the complete guilt and utter loss evident on Cas’s face and having a sudden flashback to a similar conversation they’d had previously, one which resulted in Cas revealing suicidal thoughts, Dean softly placed his right hand to the angel’s left cheek and leant closer, forcing him to look into his eyes.

“You thought you were doing the right thing, Cas. That’s all anyone can ever do, even angels”

At that, Cas seemed to wince slightly, as if been hit.

Dean was at a loss as to what he could possibly do to in any way to comfort the distraught figure before him other than to offer his hand to wipe away the quickly forming tears that were beginning to cascade down Cas’s face.

“Its ok. Its ok.” Was all he muster, although they both knew it wasn’t true; Cas was now human and Dean was almost certain he could do nothing to change that.