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It was the middle of the night by the time Sam and Dean stumbled into the bunker, Dean having taken extra care in parking Baby just where he'd left her only days before, buckets and sponges nearby and waiting to be put to use once she was back in one piece. Castiel met them at the stairs, Sam still leaning against Dean for support as they eased their way down the hall. Cas guided Sam's nearest arm to rest over his own shoulder, and together he and Dean led Sam to his room. Sam groaned as he let his weight drop onto the neatly-made bed, eyes already closing as his head sank into the pillow. The briefest touch from Cas against Sam's forehead and the cuts and bruises were gone. Sam exhaled shakily as his muscles began to loosen and relax.
Dean looked briefly at Cas, his face a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty. "Thank you," he murmured.
"Of course, Dean," Castiel replied.
"And not just for this, either," Dean waved his hand in the direction of his brother, whose breathing was already starting to slow down and take on a calm, even pace. Dean figured Sam would be asleep in minutes at this rate. "You...you were a lot of help today."
Cas frowned. "I'll be more helpful once I have healed completely. It shouldn't take much longer."
"Cas, stop." It was Dean's turn to frown. "It's not like you have to prove yourself to us or anything."
"I'm just trying to make amends." Cas looked away then, regret moving across his features.
"Look, man, we all have crap we feel bad about. We've all said things...done things...." Dean let his voice trail off. There weren't words to express the strange mixture of guilt and forgiveness that clouded his mind. Instead, he let the silence simply settle around them like fog.
"You're next." Sam's voice broke the stillness. Dean jumped; he'd assumed Sam had fallen asleep.
"What?" Cas turned to Sam with a confused expression.
Sam spoke again, quietly, his eyes still closed. "Dean, it's your turn. You promised."
Cas turned his attention back to Dean. "What is he talking about?"
Dean gave a exasperated sigh. "I told Sam we'd get you to heal him up once we got back here. He said only if I allowed you to heal me, too."
The barest trace of surprise graced Castiel's face for a moment. "You said you didn't want me to heal you."
"Yeah, I still don't." Dean's reply came out more gruffly than he'd intended, and was it his imagination or did he see Cas actually flinch?
"Dean..." Sam's voice was even quieter now, but still insistent.
Dean heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes. "All right, all right. Geez." He held up his hands in mock surrender, even though he knew Sam wouldn't see them. He looked back at Cas, and damn it but Cas was looking at him with that pained and careful expression he wore so often now. It reminded Dean of the day he first asked Cas to take him out if things got too bad with the Mark. And look how well that had turned out.
Cas began to reach for Dean, and Dean's memories shifted. He could feel the blows Cas had rained down on him only a few days ago--a violent struggle that had reminded Dean of another fight in another alleyway years ago, with the angel's fierce and righteous anger aimed squarely at the man who was about to give his life to an archangel. I gave everything for you! And this is what you give to me?
Dean's stomach churned in an absurd combination of anger and fear. Why the hell had Cas given everything for him, anyway? He could have just done his duty, raised him from Hell, and walked away. Why hadn't he just walked away?
Castiel's hand was reaching for the side of Dean's face, and in his mind Dean was suddenly on his knees in that not-quite-forgotten crypt, face swollen and bloody, staring up at Cas in confusion. Those were the moments that reminded him how non-human Castiel really was. He'd thought he was done for then, too, but whatever force had been influencing the angel had dissipated at the sound of Dean's words.
I need you.
And the truth was, he did need Cas. Even though Dean had sworn that he would never need anyone else. Not after everyone he had lost. He wasn't allowed to need. Wasn't supposed to need. He was supposed to be the strong one, like his father told him to be. But there were days when it was so damned hard.
"Dean?"
Castiel's voice startled Dean back to the present. The angel's hand hovered in the air, mere inches from Dean's face. Even now Cas was hesitating, though it was clear how much he wanted to touch Dean, to heal him. Dean couldn't bear to see the look in his eyes, on his face--but he couldn't tear his own eyes away, either.
"Please."
The memories flashed through Dean's mind again, remembering the last time Cas had uttered that simple word. The way he'd thrown the angel around the bunker that horrible day. How Cas had refused to fight back even though they both knew damned well that he could have ended Dean in a heartbeat. How close Dean had come to ending it all instead.
Dean closed his eyes. "Why?" he whispered.
"Why what, Dean?"
"Why do you care?" Dean opened his eyes and stared fiercely at Castiel.
Cas dropped his hand gently onto Dean's shoulder, meeting Dean's gaze with equal force.
"You're different."
After everything that had passed between them, at least that one thing remained.
Dean swallowed hard, and gave Cas a brief nod before closing his eyes again. Castiel moved his hand from Dean's shoulder to cup Dean's face, exactly where the last of the bruises still remained. Dean could feel the warmth radiating from Cas' hand, and he drew in a deep breath as the grace moved under his skin. When the heat began to fade, Dean opened his eyes. Cas was still looking at him, though not with an expression of pity or fear. The look on the angel's face was different now--both new and familiar all at once. Dean grabbed Cas' wrist as he began to withdraw his hand. Their eyes remained fixed on each other.
"Thank you," Dean said again. The words were too small; he could tell by the way they felt in his mouth. But they were all he had.
"Of course," Castiel replied, and it was enough.