How (thanks to Gabriel) Dean and Castiel raised each other (and Sam)

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The shtriga came for Sam while Dean was out. Castiel laid hands on the beast and watched it explode in a shower of sparks.

"What was that?" Sam asked blurry.

"Go back to sleep." Castiel touched his forehead.

"Layala tavcha." Sam said. His attempts at spoken Enochian tended to sound a bit like Hebrew with the accent of a fifteenth century Portuguese sailor. No other angel in creation would have understood him.

"Good night." Castiel responded and stayed at the foot of Sam's bed until Dean returned.

"Cas." Dean frowned. "What's wrong?"

"The shtriga was here." He toed the ashy remains. "I took care of it. Sam is fine."

"Shit." Dean ran to the bed, checked Sam over himself with ghosting hands so as not to wake him. "He's really ok?"

"Yes." Castiel put a hand on Dean's arm. "All is well."

"You're the best damn babysitter in the world." Dean decreed.

"I did not sit on him." Castiel said, mostly because it made Dean smile.

"I'll have to tell Dad it's dead. He's out hunting it now."

"Consecrated metal generally kills them." Castiel offered.

"Would my knife work?"

"Yes. Pastor Jim blessed it once. That would be sufficient."

"Ok. Sorry to take credit for your kill."

"It doesn't matter. Did you enjoy the arcade?"

"Nah." Dean rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Just needed to get out. Thanks for coming down. I know you've got more important things to do."

Castiel ran the toe of his sneaker through the dust of the shtriga.

"No." He said firmly. "I don't."