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Chapter Text

Dean paused, his finger poised to start dialing Sam's number. As soon as Castiel pulled him away from Zach, Dean knew what he had to do. Get Sammy to talk to him, stop them from drifting apart and with any luck prevent that whole shit-show with croats and orgies from ever going down. There was one other thing he needed to do first, though. That future version of Castiel had been fucking disturbing, but there was no way that Dean was gonna let his future self feed future-Cas into a meat-grinder. No way in hell.

"Cas, I know you're cut off from upstairs, but can you still time travel?"

Castiel looked off to the side, considering, then nodded. "I can, but not very far into the past."

"Well, I need you to visit the future… the future that Zach just sent me to."

Castiel gave a pensive frown. "Going to the future is more difficult than visiting the past, since the future is in a constant state of flux, and the further forward one attempts to go, the more difficult it becomes. How far into the future did he send you?"

"Five years. It was 2014, around, uhg…" he rubbed a hand over his face, trying to remember the date from that newspaper Zach had been reading. "I think it was August 7th, around midday. Jackson County Sanitarium."

"I doubt that would be a problem, providing nothing has happened to significantly alter that future… assuming it was a possible future, based on current conditions, and not some construct which Zachariah created to 'mess' with you."

Dean bit back a smile at the air-quotes. This was his Castiel; matter-of-fact and way too literal, but sort of pure, too. Not broken or burned out and drugged up. Dean nodded, pocketing his phone. That would be a big damn change, and he couldn't jeopardize his plan until Castiel had at least tried. "So, if I just stand here and don't do anything, you can zap forward and bring someone back?"

"I should be able to, yes." Castiel squinted at him. "Who did you have in mind?"

Cas was hunkered down behind an overturned gurney, popping up every so often to shoot at the croats. He and the others had made it inside the sanitarium and part way up the stairs before they were surrounded. They managed to break through the line of croats on the landing above them and fight their way into a side room where they barricaded themselves in, but it didn't take long for the croats to break the door down and come at them again.

The croats killed Risa in their second charge, and most of the other grunts were dead, too. He didn't see their faces before they fell, and in the heat of battle – when had he stopped talking like that? Probably sometime after his powers faded and before he started indulging his baser urges – it wasn't like he had the luxury of looking around to see who else was left, but he thought that only two others from their group were still alive.

There was a rustling sound in the hallway, like a sudden gust of wind, and he briefly wondered if the windows had been blown out somewhere in the sanitarium. Instead of looking around, he stayed focused on the task at hand: take out the Croats, try to get to the room that Dean had indicated. Tactically, he knew that his orders made no sense. A frontal assault had almost no chance of success, and past Dean seemed to have smelled the bullshit coming off of Dean's plan, but Cas hadn't said anything. The only reason he could think of for this suicidal plan – and for neither Dean being with them – was that their group wasn't the real plan. At best, they were a diversion. At worst… well, he didn't want to think about that. He was no longer an angel of the lord, not fully human, either, but at his core, he was still what he had always been: a soldier. Dean had given orders, and Cas would follow them. In the car he'd told past Dean, the one from 2009, that he'd started indulging himself because why not?

"It's the end, baby. That's what decadence is for. Why not bang a few gongs before the lights go out?"

That wasn't the real reason, though. The only thing that Cas had left was Dean, and he hoped that his oldest friend felt the same way. Even if Dean didn't hold him in the same high regard, it didn't really matter to Cas. Dean had lost too much already: Bobby, Sam, and, worst of all, himself. Dean had put on the brave face of Fearless Leader years ago, because the hardness and the brutality had been necessary to keep their little group alive and fighting, but Dean had long since forgotten how to take off that mask. Castiel would follow Dean, and do all he could to help him, because he wouldn't rob Dean of his loyalty. If Dean's plan meant that Cas had to go out in a blaze of glory, win or lose, so be it. Because that's what loyalty meant.

At least, that's what it meant to him.

The fact that loyalty might not mean the same thing to Dean, well… the booze and drugs helped to numb the sting of that, or at least forget about it for a while.

So did the orgies.

Snarling and the pop-pop-pop of gunfire brought his attention back to the present. The croats were massing just outside the doorway. Planning wasn't their style – they didn't have the brains for it anymore – so Cas surmised that Lucifer must be controlling them, using them to keep Dean's decoys or potential backup pinned down and out of the way in this little room.

The rustling from before sounded again, as though a small, laser-focused hurricane was whipping it's way through the abandoned sanitarium. He looked up at the sound and saw… himself. Trenchcoat, backwards tie, constipated facial expression. Clearly, this was a version of him from the past, back when he had still been an angel of the lord.

All he could do was blink. "What are you doing here?"

Past him seemed to suddenly become aware of his surroundings and crouched down behind the gurney, looking perplexed, as though the answer should be obvious. "What Dean asked me to." Before he had time to wonder what that meant, past him put a hand on Cas' shoulder, and the room around them vanished in a swirl of wind, light and color.

Chapter Text

A few flaps later, Dean was standing by the side of the road and staring at two Castiels. Future-Cas, with his matted hair, beard, gun and filthy Apocalypse-Now hippie threads, and regular Castiel, with his suit, trench coat and tie. Dean spent nearly a full minute looking back and forth between the two of them, trying to adjust to the new normal.

"Okay, two Castiels." Dean shook his head. "And this won't cause a paradox or screw up any timelines or whatever, 'cause I've watched enough Star Trek to know that this shit can go all kinds of wrong."

Future-Cas gave him an incredulous look. "You didn't think about that before sending him to get me?"

Dean threw up one arm in frustration. "It wasn't a plan, okay? I just couldn't let you go out like that. Sue me for not wanting you to die pointlessly!"

Future-Cas' mouth quirked up in a smile. "Well, thanks."

Dean nodded tightly. "You're welcome. Even if you being here does screw things up, it's still better than the alternative."

Castiel squinted a bit at the exchange, but didn't comment on it. "What do we do now?"

"Now I call Sammy and tell him we're getting the band back together," he flicked a glance at 2014 Cas, "With a few changes. Okay, just to make this a little less confusing, I'm gonna call now-Cas Castiel, and future-Cas just Cas. You guys okay with that?" They both nodded. "Okay. Castiel, can you scope out the hotel room? My stuff was all still there, and Baby is parked outside, but I can't go back for any of it until Zach and his Jehovah's witness tip-off guy are gone."

Castiel nodded, "Of course," and vanished without further ado.

Dean couldn't help rolling his eyes and half muttering to himself, "Would it kill him to make smalltalk?"

Future-Cas chuckled. "It's gonna be a while before he gets the hang of social interactions, but don't worry, he'll learn. So, are you going to tell Sam about me?"

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. "I dunno, man. This whole thing is so messed up already, I don't wanna add any more Earth-shattering revelations until we're face to face. Easier that way."

"Fair enough." Future-Cas squinted and sat down on the side of the road, letting one of his hands tangle in the grass near to where it met the asphalt. "Y'know, I'd almost forgotten how bright streetlights can be."

"Yeah, I noticed. No electricity in zombieland. Hold tight, I gotta call Sammy."

Future-Cas let out a very human grumble. "Don't let me stop you."

The call to Sam went much better than he'd hoped. Sam had been the one who wanted to start hunting together again anyway, so Dean wasn't sure why he'd assumed that it would be a hard sell. Maybe a lifetime's worth of experience of things going badly had taught him to expect the worst. After he arranged for a meet up, he got off the phone and glanced down at Future-Cas. Dude had his knees tucked up almost to his chest and was resting his forehead on his right knee. Dean nudged him with his shoe. "Hey, you still with me?"

"Yeah." He didn't move.

Dean shook his head. "You okay?"

Future-Cas rocked his head to one side, tilting it just enough so he could fix one bloodshot eye on Dean. "I was just in a firefight with croats, Future-you sent me into that firefight knowing I'd almost certainly be killed as part of his diversion, I think the amphetamines are starting to wear off, and according to you, my Dean just had his neck snapped by my older brother who was wearing your younger brother."

Well, that was… a lot. That was a lot of crap for anyone to try to wrap their head around, and Dean knew how awful it was to not have a chemical barrier to hide behind while trying to deal with so much. "Yeah, that future sucked, and future-me is a dick. I'm not gonna turn into that guy. If I start to turn into that guy, you've gotta promise to kick my ass."

Future-Cas huffed out an angry-sounding breath. "You got it."

Dean sat down next to him and nudged his side with an elbow. "So, adrenaline crash?"

Future-Cas nodded against his knee and let his eye slide shut.

"I should've asked, did you get hurt in the fight?"

Future-Cas sort of shrugged. "Don't think so. Maybe a few bruises, but that's it. Probably just need to rest for a while."

Dean put his hand on Future-Cas' shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze. "Well, when Castiel gets us back to the car, you can sack out in the backseat while we ride to the rendezvous with Sam."

Future-Cas looked over at him and smiled, the expression all gums and stubbly cheeks scrunching up under his eyes. It was weird to see Cas – any Cas – smiling like that. "Thanks. It'll be nice, seeing her mint again."

Dean tried not to cringe, remembering the rusted and dented wreck that his beloved Impala had turned into. "Yeah. What happened to Baby?"

Future-Cas huffed, his smile slipping away and eyes drifting shut again. "I'll tell you later, when my brain feels less like waterlogged oatmeal."

Dean nudged him, fighting down a laugh. Yeah, he could get used to this Cas. "Fair enough."

Neither one of them spoke for what felt like half an hour, and then a sudden rustling noise told him that Castiel was back. Dean rocked his head first to one side, then the other, trying to work the kinks out of his neck before he looked up.

Castiel was standing with his back to a streetlight, and the soft fluorescent glow spilling over his shoulders almost made it look like he had a halo. A glance between the two Castiels really brought home how different the two of them were. Regular Cas, halo-ed but otherwise looking like his usual tax-accountant self, and Future-Cas, scrunched up by the side of the road in dirty clothes, looking like any other homeless guy. If the apocalypse had chewed Cas up and spat him out in such rough shape, it really wasn't kid stuff. Of course, that wasn't much of a surprise. It was the frigging apocalypse.

"We all clear?"

Castiel gave a minute nod. "Yes. Zachariah took some time before he left, possibly looking for hints as to where I might have taken you, but he's gone now, and I managed to render the evangelical informant unconscious without being seen. He's currently asleep on the floor of an empty room in the motel, and likely won't wake until morning."

Dean nodded, getting to his feet. "Good work, Cas. If we manage to stop the end of the world, I'm sure you'll be a great hunter."

Future-Cas made a noise that was decidedly unhappy, with just a touch of bitter. "Don't bet on it."

Dean rolled his eyes and gave Castiel a shrug which hopefully conveyed 'I'm sorry future-you is being a dick'. He turned around and nudged Future-Cas with the toe of his boot, offering a hand up when the fallen angel finally raised his head. "Yeah, whatever, Grumpy. Let's get going."

The ex-angel took his hand and stood, rolling his shoulders with a series of satisfying sounding 'pops'. "Alrighty. Lead the way."

Castiel zapped them back to the motel room and Dean started packing up. He didn't have to grab much, but after thinking about it for a minute, he snagged the bedspread and stuffed it into his duffel. They didn't keep a blanket in the impala, usually opting to just sleep in or under their jackets, but if someone wanted to sack out in the backseat, it wasn't a terrible idea. Besides, Future-Cas didn't look anywhere close to okay. Maybe he'd been lying about not getting hurt in the fight, or maybe he was just having trouble dealing, but either way, Dean was determined to help him. He went over to the sink and turned on the tap. While he waited for the water to get cold, he grabbed a couple of the little paper-wrapped cups from the overhead shelf and quickly unwrapped them. Once he'd filled them up, he handed one over to Future-Cas and stared the ex-angel down.

Future-Cas took the water and downed it, then stepped over to the sink and filled his cup again. He drank that, too, then crumpled the cup and tossed it in the room's trash. "Thanks."

Dean jammed the contents of his duffel down and zipped the flap closed. "Yeah." He slung the bag over his shoulder and turned to look at the two angels, one fallen, the other falling – if the fact that Castiel couldn't heal Bobby meant what he thought it meant. "So, uh, Cas. I probably should have asked before now, but… d'you want to hunt with me and Sam? I mean, if Sammy and I can get our shit straightened out. If you wanna go and do your own thing, that's cool too, I won't pressure you to stay, but, well… I'd like it if you stuck around."

Castiel turned and looked at the future version of himself, apparently curious to hear his answer, and Dean realized that the two Cas's (Casi? He'd have to ask Sam what the plural was) hadn't really talked to each other. Sure, they must have spoken a little when Castiel winged to the future, but since then, they hadn't actually spoken. He wondered why. Maybe Future-Cas already had so much to deal with that he didn't want to chat with his younger self, and Castiel… Dean didn't know what his deal was, but he doubted the dude was thrilled to see what he'd turned into in Zach's future.

Future-Cas shifted on the balls of his feet, full-on deer in the headlights. "I… I'd rather stick with you, Dean. Heaven and I weren't exactly on good terms before the angels bailed, and if I'm remembering the events of this year correctly… was it less than three months ago that Sam freed Lucifer?"

Dean fought a wince. That was still a recent memory for him, but for Grumpy it was probably more like ancient history. "Yeah. More like just under two months."

He nodded. "Then Heaven isn't likely to distinguish between me and my past self, who has only recently rebelled, and I don't have any mojo to speak of to defend myself with, so I would be entirely at their mercy."

That wasn't what he meant. It was a good point, but not what he meant. "Yeah, we don't want that to happen. Last time they dragged you off to bible camp it really sucked. I think Anna said that what they were doing to you was 'horribly, painfully bad', and I sent younger-you to save you, not bring you here to be a target, but I don't want you to stay just 'cause it's the option that sucks the least." He stepped closer, getting into Future-Cas' personal space and doing the weird staring thing. "I'm asking, do you want to hunt with me? If you don't, we'll find a way to ward you from angels, demons, all comers. You'll be safe to go live a life if that's what you want to do, but it's your call, so I'm asking, Cas, what do you want?"

The former angel hesitated for a long moment, then he nodded and gave a tremulous smile. "I want to stay with you, Dean."

Dean nodded back at him. "Okay, good. Good to know."

Dean wasn't really sure why he felt relieved. Cas was a grown-up. Hell, he was millenia old and a solider, dude could take care of himself… and it wasn't like hunting with Dean was the safe option, either. They saw danger and, as he'd once said, they ran towards it like crazy people. Maybe it was just… knowing that Cas wanted to be there, and the fact that he choose to stick around, that made Dean feel good. It wasn't like he had a lot of friends, and now he had two Castiels. He couldn't help grinning at that thought, and clapped his hand on Future-Cas' back. "Let's hit the road, Grumpy. We'll meet up with Sam and work on stopping that future from happening." Dean grabbed the room key and headed for the door, throwing Castiel a smile on the way. "Matter of fact, younger-you has a lead on how we might be able to do just that…"

Chapter Text

Castiel sat in the front seat with Dean. Not Fearless Leader. He was Dean again, the Righteous Man, with his old cassette tapes and beloved Impala. The only thing missing was Sam, and they were on their way to meet up with him.

Cas was sacked out in the back seat, his head pillowed on Dean's duffel bag and the stolen motel blanket spread over him. He was home.

So why wasn't he happy?

It might have been the streetlights.

Their light blared through the windows at regular intervals, cutting into his attempts to sleep.

Or it might have been his head, pounding, pounding pounding away.

He was exhausted, and something was wrong, very wrong, but he didn't know what, and frankly he felt too rotten to do anything but curl up under the blanket and try to sleep it off. Dean had tossed the blanket at him after they were settled in the car. "Here," Dean had said. "This is yours now. Try to get some sleep."

Cas hitched the blanket up over his shoulders. Dean must have slept under the blanket at some point before Zachariah grabbed him, because the blanket smelled like Dean. Now, there was an unintentional twist of the knife. He hadn't slept under anything that smelled like Dean for a very long time, and now here he was, in the past, with a Dean who didn't know much of anything about what had happened between the two of them during the past four years, and this Dean had given him a Dean-smelling blanket.

There was also a certain twisted irony to the fact that he was riding in the impala with Dean again, like it was the good old days, and, like in those self-same good old days, he had been relegated to the status of a third wheel, even though the car's only other occupant was his younger self. If he didn't feel so lousy, he might have even laughed about the cosmic unfairness of that.

They'd been driving for a couple of hours, but the sun hadn't risen yet. Cas groaned and screwed his eyes tightly shut. He was not looking forward to that. Sleeping in daytime only ever worked for him if he could shield his eyes from the sunlight, and based on the luck he was having with streetlights… yeah, not likely.

Inspiration hit and he opened the duffel, pulling out a heavy flannel shirt which he clumsily draped over his head. The thick, soft cloth blocked out any glimmer of light from the windows, and Cas made a satisfied noise as he settled back down again.

He managed to sleep for nearly an hour before his stomach woke him.

They'd grabbed burgers on the way out of town. There was a 24 hour local place – 'Hell's Kitchen' or something – that was far enough away from the hotel that Dean thought it would be ok for him to show his face. Of course, the fact that the place's logo was a little red devil, complete with pitchfork, gave them an extra bit of reassurance. Almost no chance of a whacked-out evangelical working at a place like that where they'd have to wear a baseball cap with grinning devil printed on it.

Cas liked burgers, but he wasn't used to fast food. He hadn't had much time to get used to it, the last time he was living through the lead up to the apocalypse. There was a very short period of time between when he'd well and truly fallen – needing to eat and sleep to keep himself functioning – and chain restaurants still being open for business. After the croatoan virus got a good foothold in America, more and more places started putting up 'closed due to the end of the world' signs on their doors. At first, his Dean had thought those signs were funny, but it wasn't long before he had stopped laughing. Once the Apocalypse had really gotten under way, about halfway through 2010, fast food had gone the way of the dodo, and Cas' crash-course introduction to the joys of road food had come to an abrupt halt.

Now, as he lay in the back seat, jostled by turns in the road and potholes, the greasy meal sitting in his stomach started to turn on him. His younger self would likely have no understanding of the concept of food disagreeing with someone, since food doesn't tend to be sentient after it's been prepared and partially digested, but Cas knew the feeling all too well, and he knew what was going to happen. He groaned, less in pain than in annoyance. This was going to be unpleasant, and there was nothing he could do about it. Well, he reflected bitterly – almost as bitter as the bile which would be forcing its way up his throat any minute now – that wasn't much of a change. That was maybe the hardest thing about the Apocalypse; coming to terms with the fact that after a certain point, there was nothing you could do about it.

"Dean."

His answer was a grumble from the driver's seat. "Yeah?"

"Pull over."

Dean glanced at him in the rearview mirror, curiosity and irritation on his face. "Why? We haven't been on the road long enough to need a pit-stop."

Cas grimaced and managed to sit up, hauling himself upright by grabbing hold of the top of the front bench. "I… I don't…" he felt saliva collecting in his mouth, and was dimly aware of the functional purpose of that before his stomach heaved again. He screwed his eyes shut against the feeling and tried to explain without opening his mouth too far. "My stomach…"

Dean shifted to look at him directly for a moment and made a surprised noise. "Oh crap." The car jerked violently to one side, which didn't help at all, and then came to a sudden stop, the momentum nearly making Cas tumble into the front seat. "Dude, you're green."

Cas managed a nod, and the next thing he knew, the door to the backseat had been thrown open and Dean was helping him stagger to some bushes several yards away from the road.

He fell to his knees and his stomach turned itself inside out.

The burger and fries didn't taste nearly as good on their way back up.

He retched, the pounding in his head becoming more painful as the remnants of his – dinner… lunch? – splattered into the dirt. Cas tried to catch his breath and realized that a large, warm hand was resting between his shoulder blades.

"Okay, buddy. It's gonna be alright."

Dean.

Dean had knelt down beside him at some point. The hunter was using one hand to grip his arm, steadying him, while the other hand stayed in place on his back, providing Cas with unlooked-for but very welcome comfort. Cas nodded his thanks, wary of trying to talk, and screwed his eyes shut as he coughed, trying to clear a last bit of partially-digested food from his throat. Afterwards, he let his head hang down and focused on just trying to breathe. He didn't breathe in through his nose, not wanting to risk the sharp, sour smell of his vomit provoking another bout of nausea.

He blinked, seeing out of the corner of his eye that Castiel had wandered over to join them, and the holy tax accountant was now watching them with a confused squint on his face.

After a few moments, Dean's hand moved up to rest on the back of Cas' neck, and Dean gave him a gentle squeeze, getting his full attention.

"Think you're all set?"

Cas breathed in and out, trying to calm himself enough to assess his own condition. It took longer than he would have liked, but eventually he nodded in the affirmative. "Think so…" He trailed off, coughing, as his raw throat protested being used for speech. When he could breathe steadily again, he let out a soft groan.

Dean gave him another squeeze, and that seemed to help, somehow. Cas managed to open his eyes and gave Dean a wan smile.

Castiel shook his head, clearly puzzled. "What happened to him?"

Dean kept his hand on the back of Cas' neck, offering silent support even as he gave Castiel a pointed look. "The Apocalypse happened to him. Is it really a shocker that he's in such rough shape? "

His younger self moved away, seeming chastened. The silence was heavy and awkward as Dean knelt by Cas' side, helping him to keep his balance. Embarrassed by the attention, Cas planted his hands on the ground and tried to rise, then noticed a hand being shoved in his face. His eyes traveled up the arm which the hand belonged to, and saw Dean giving him a look that didn't brook any argument. He grabbed the hand, and Dean hauled him back to his feet. "Thanks."

Dean nodded and made a noncommittal noise, then started steering him back towards the car.

Castiel followed them, maintaining a distance of half a dozen paces and seeming puzzled by Dean's behavior. Once they reached the car, Cas sat down in the backseat again but kept his feet firmly planted on the pavement just in case his stomach staged another revolt. Dean sighed and leaned against the open rear passenger door, watching him with concerned curiosity. After a few moments, the hunter caught Castiel staring at them. Dean stared back at him, and when Castiel didn't say anything, Dean rolled his eyes. "What?"

Castiel shifted, clearly uncomfortable. "I'm merely surprised that you're… so concerned for his well-being."

Dean seemed like he couldn't decide whether to be angry about that or not. "You're kidding, right, Cas? He's you. Of course I care about him." Dean turned back to face him again. "Hey, you think you're gonna puke again?"

Cas shook his head and shut his eyes against the renewed pounding in his skull. "I doubt it." There was nothing left in his stomach. He might dry heave, but nothing would come up.

"Okay, one sec…" Dean gave his shoulder a pat, then stepped around to the other side of the car and rummaged in the cooler that lived on the floor behind the passenger's side. Soon enough, he came back and handed over an unopened bottle of Poland Spring. "Just, use this to get the taste out, but try not to swallow any, 'cause it'll probably just come back up again."

Cas gratefully took the bottle and cursed at his shaking hands for nearly a full minute. Once he'd managed to open it, he nodded his thanks to Dean before he took a mouthful.

Dean sighed and scrubbed a knuckle at his forehead. "I don't think we've got anything in the car that'll help. All we have is the first-aid kit, and that's just for patching ourselves up, but I can keep an eye out for a rest stop with a convenience store, if you want."

Cas was too busy swishing water and then spitting out the taste of bile to reply, but he was touched by the offer. He'd forgotten just how much younger Dean cared about everybody. True, Dean was brusque and gruff about it, but he really did care. Cas smiled to himself. Being here had a few bright spots after all. "I'm not sure what's causing it, so I don't know what will help. I think you mentioned something once about warm Coke and crackers for an upset stomach."

"Yeah, or maybe it was ginger ale. I got food poisoning years ago… I was on a hunt with dad in Albuquerque. I saved this chick from a vengeful spirit and we were gonna hook up, but first she wanted to make me dinner. She wasn't exactly big on hygiene, and later that night it came back to bite us both in the ass. I was sick as a dog for three days, and crackers and soda got me through the worst of it."

"Ginger has been used for centuries in Asia as a digestive aid," They both turned, surprised that Castiel had spoken up. Castiel blinked at them. "I thought that information might be useful."

Cas nodded at his younger self, pleasantly surprised by the fact that he had weighed in. "It is, thank you." They stared at each other for a moment, then Castiel zapped himself into the passenger seat. Cas shook his head. Yeah, his younger self never did know what to do with himself in these situations. Cas almost smiled at the phrasing of that thought. Now his younger self actually had to interact with another version of himself. Cas felt too lousy to initiate much interaction, and if his read of his younger self's actions was anything to go on, Castiel just didn't know how to act around him, so he wound up hanging back, observing and most likely hoping to figure out how to approach the situation. At least, that was how he imagined he would have reacted to this situation before he fell.

After a moment, Dean nodded. "Okay, so we'll hit a Gas 'N Sip somewhere and pick up crackers and ginger ale. Maybe Coke too." He looked at Cas and handed him some paper napkins from the glove compartment, gesturing vaguely at his own face. "So you can clean up. And, uh… thanks for giving me a heads up before you, you know..." Dean gestured awkwardly in the direction of the bushes.

Cas managed a smile, but was pretty sure that it didn't look convincing. "Yeah, well, she deserves better than someone puking in the backseat."

Dean smiled back at him, and his version wasn't strained at all. He gave the car door a loving pat. "Damn right. She's a beautiful girl." Dean hesitated, then gestured towards the cooler. "Okay, I emptied the cooler and put it right here on the floor," Dean gestured to the end of the backseat where Cas had been resting his head. "If you need to puke again, try to get it all in there, and then just shut the lid. We can empty it and wash it out the next time we stop."

Cas nodded, grateful that this Dean was so solicitous. "Thank you."

Dean clapped his shoulder and then moved back to the driver's side door, climbing behind the wheel without further comment until he turned the key in the ignition. "Let's get back on the road."

"…you should hang on to this. I'm sure you're rusty."

…

"What made you change your mind?"

"Long story."

Voices filtered into Cas' mind, snatches of conversation which stubbornly refused to go away and let him sleep.

"…I won't let you down."

"Oh, I know it. I mean, you are the second-best hunter on the planet."

Cas grumbled at the intrusive sounds and hitched his blanket up higher to block out the light which was trying to stab through his eyes. All he wanted was to get back to the blissful quiet and darkness of his nap.

"What happened to him?"

"The long story. Short version is Zach zapped me five years into the future. It's a zombie apocalypse courtesy of the Croatoan virus and you saying 'yes' to Lucifer. Oh, and Cas is almost human now, having orgies and popping pills like tic-tacs."

Dean and Sam, by the sound of it, talking to each other like it was old times. Someone was playing a cruel joke on him, he just knew it, because as soon as he opened his eyes, he'd be back at Camp Chitaqua, dealing with Fearless Leader and whatever new crisis was on the horizon that day.

"Well, that's gotta suck, going from angel of the lord to just being one of us. Maybe he's self-medicating to deal."

"Maybe. You didn't see some of the stuff he was getting up to, Sammy, but he's still Cas, and we've gotta try to help him."

"No, yeah, I mean, of course we'll help him. So what do you think, Bobby's?"

Dean grunted. It was his 'I wish I had a better idea because the one we've got sucks' grunt. This dream really wasn't skimping on the details. "Yeah. It's the closest thing we got to a home base."

Sam let out a loud, overly-dramatic sigh. "Should I… you think I should say 'hi'?"

One of the car doors opened and Cas felt the car sink down a few inches as Dean settled himself into the driver's seat. "Nah, let him sleep. Dude's had a hell of a day."

Sam huffed out a disbelieving laugh. "So, does this mean you won't be blasting any Zepplin or AC/DC? Didn't think anything could get between you and your mullet rock."

"Shut up."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

The engine revved to life, Baby's familiar rumble drowning out any other sounds and lulling Cas into a deep, peaceful sleep.

Chapter Text

The Impala pulled into the junk yard at Bobby's a few hours after Sam had met up with them. Castiel had given Dean the 411 on the Colt when they were riding to the meet-up with Sam, and then, once they had safely parked by the bridge which Sam had picked for a rendezvous spot, he'd zapped off to parts unknown to continue his god-hunt. It was just as well, really, because with Future-Cas stretched out asleep in the backseat, there wouldn't have been enough room for all four of them in the car. Still, Dean wasn't thrilled with how eager Castiel had been to get away. Did being around his future self freak him out that badly? Sure, Castiel had existed for millennia as a powerful being who was literally holier-than-thou, and seeing that his future self had not only become a human, but a pretty messed up one, had to be rough. Still, dude didn't seem easily rattled, either now or in the future, so Dean doubted that was the reason… he just wanted to know what the real reason was.

Future-Cas was still asleep in the backseat. He'd woken up briefly when they stopped for food at a Gas N' Sip which Castiel spotted, and had downed the crackers and ginger ale that Dean gave him. Afterwards, he'd crawled back under his blanket and he'd slept right through Castiel leaving and the meet up with Sam. He hadn't been sick again, which was a definite plus, but he wasn't exactly sleeping easy, either. Dude twitched and muttered, sounding agitated, and listening to that for half an hour had been enough. Driving in silence never really worked for Dean, anyway, so after giving up on the radio, he'd asked Sam to dig out some old tapes from the back of the glove compartment. He remembered dad playing them when he'd been really little, and they'd been on the soothing side. He had vague memories of riding in the backseat with Sammy while his baby brother slept, so he figured they wouldn't wake Cas up, either. He'd been right too. Cas slept the rest of the way to Bobby's, and the music actually gave Dean a nice little trip down memory lane, of the quieter family moments between hunts, so that was a bonus.

"…I would follow him right down the toughest road I know, someday soon… goin' with him someday soon. And when he comes to call, my pa ain't got a good word to say, guess it's 'cause he was just as wild in the younger days. So blow you ol' blue northern, blow my love to me…"

The only drawback to his choice of tunes was his brother giving him a hard time – "Getting sentimental in your old age, Dean?" – but after a quick reminder of the house rules regarding music and cakeholes, Sam had shut up.

Once he'd parked and pulled the key out of the ignition, Dean let his head rest on the seatback for a few moments. He wasn't sure what to do next. Yeah, he knew that he had to help Future-Cas adjust to life in 2009 and find out what the marker-points were on the road to the Apocalypse. That was bound to be a fun conversation. Figuring out what else he needed to change meant asking Future-Cas how things had gone so frigging wrong, and there was no point in putting it off any longer. He hated to wake the guy up, especially since it seemed like Future-Cas had finally found an okay part of the dreamscape, but he knew that the guy would get a better night's sleep in a real bed. One without wheels or an engine attached to it.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead." Dean didn't bother to lift his head – or open his eyes – when he called out, and he didn't move until he heard Future-Cas shifting in the back seat. Once he heard an un-angelic grumble, followed by the seat springs squeaking, Dean smiled and craned his head around. He was met by a pair of bleary blue eyes blinking at him from a tangle of red flannel and motel-bedspread. Future-Cas scrubbed a hand over his face, still blinking, and Dean nodded towards Sam. "Guess what, pal? Someone joined us while you were out."

Sam turned around in the front seat and gave Future-Cas a smile. "Hey, Cas. It's good to…"

Future-Cas sat bolt upright, all traces of sleep gone as a look of sheer terror settled on his face, and he fumbled with the door handle. Sam's smile slid away, replaced by a confused frown, and he abandoned what he'd been saying as he watched Future-Cas trying to escape the back seat. Once he'd gotten the door to open, he stumbled out of the car and tried to get as far away from Sam as he possibly could.

Dean climbed out of the Impala and shook his head. "Dude, what's wrong?"

Future-Cas nodded towards Sam, who was getting out of the car, too, causing the fallen angel to back away even farther. He nodded at Sam again, mouth working for a few seconds before he managed to actually say anything. "Lucifer…" His face held a look of terror and profound sadness as he found himself trapped against a wall of junkers.

Sam seemed confused and hurt by Future-Cas's reaction, but he didn't lash out like he would have done even a few months earlier. Sam slowly approached Future-Cas, both hands held palm-up in front of himself to show that he was unarmed. "Cas, it's me. It's Sam." He used one hand to gesture at his own chest. "Can't you just, I dunno, look at me and see that?"

Dean stepped around the Impala and flanked Future-Cas, also being careful to move slowly and not spook the guy. He might not be able to flap himself into another zip code, but Cas could still run, and Dean didn't want to deal with chasing him around the junkyard. "Dude, it's us. You're in 2009, neither one of us has said 'yes' to your douchebag brothers, and we're not going to."

Future-Cas flicked his eyes to Dean, seeming hopeful but wary, so the hunter nodded. "Yeah. See?" he moved close enough to put a hand on Future-Cas's shoulder – or tackle him, whichever he needed to do – and pointed back to the Impala. "Take a look at Baby. When was the last time she looked that good, huh?"

Future-Cas followed Dean's finger, squinted at the car, and seemed to calm slightly. His eyes tracked back towards the younger Winchester and he stared for a few long moments before his expression cleared. "Sam?"

Sam nodded, using his gentlest smile and putting away the hurt-puppy eyes. "Yeah, Cas." He came a little closer and let his hands drift down to hang at his sides.

Before either of them could move, Cas was on Sam.

Sam staggered, trying to regain his balance, and Dean sprang into action, putting a hand out to brace his brother and trying to figure out what Future-Cas was doing or if he needed to pull the fallen angel away and subdue him. Dean cursed under his breath, wondering why the fuck he hadn't thought to check the guy for weapons… before he realized that Cas was just hugging Sam.

"It's you. It's really you!"

Once Dean had calmed down and realized that neither of them were in danger from Cas, he actually looked at what was happening and couldn't help smiling.

Future-Cas had wrapped himself around Sam, somehow managing to trap the much bigger man in a death grip. In fact, Future-Cas looked like an octopus attempting a bear hug. It was so damn funny that Dean's concern faded away entirely and he started laughing.

Sam glanced over at Dean, his wide-eyed look of alarm giving way to a glare as his brother just laughed at the situation, but then Sam heaved a put-upon sigh and gave a limited shrug before he apparently decided to just roll with it. He returned the hug, patting Future-Cas on the back and giving Dean a 'what can you do?' kind of look. "Yeah, Cas. I'm me, and I'm glad to see you, too."

By the time Future-Cas finally released Sam, Dean had managed to stop laughing but still wearing a shit-eating grin. Dean shook his head with a happy sigh and started walking up the rows of junkers towards Bobby's house. Sam fell into step with him pretty quickly, and Future-Cas followed them. He looked around the yard and recognition lit in his eyes.

"We're at Bobby's…"

"Yup." Dean threw the fallen angel a smile. "Bobby's is the closest thing we have to a home base, and I figured you might need a while to adjust to being back in time, so…" he gestured around at the repair yard, "Safe. Familiar. A place to get your bearings. Also, maybe you can tell us some of the shit that went wrong and led to that future turning out so bad? Bobby'll know what questions to ask, and it's not like he's felt real useful since getting stuck in the wheelchair, so…"

Sam nodded slowly. "You want them to work together, help us figure out what moves to make and which ones to avoid… and maybe working on something so big could even help snap Bobby out of his funk." He smiled and tipped his head, seeming impressed. "That's actually kinda brilliant, Dean."

Dean clapped him on the back as they climbed up the porch steps. "Don't sound so surprised, Sammy. You're not the only one in the family with brains."

Sam huffed. "No, I'm just the only one who makes a habit of using them."

Dean rolled his eyes and knocked on the front door. "Ha frigging ha." He waited a few moments, then called out, "Bobby, it's us."

Future-Cas rubbed at his temple and looked between the two brothers, a half-smile peeking out from his stubble. Sam caught him staring and self-consciously adjusted the strap of his duffel on his shoulder. "What?"

Future-Cas squinted and shaded his eyes against the glare of sunlight coming off of a crunched up Pinto's windshield. "Just, it's nice, hearing you two bicker. Didn't realize how much I'd missed it, these past few years."

Sam shot Dean a surprised look. Dean just shrugged, figuring it was best to let the guy explain himself, and Sam blinked at the fallen angel. "You missed this?"

Future-Cas raised one shoulder in a half-assed shrug. "Yeah. You're disagreeing, but it's playful. There's no venom in it. No anger. That's-"

An annoyed shout from inside cut him off. "Of course, you only learned to knock after I got stuck in this damn thing." The door swung open and Bobby sat in his wheelchair just inside the front door. "Well, come on in if you're coming." He turned the chair around pretty quickly – clearly, he'd gotten the hang of maneuvering it – and headed back into the house. "So, what kinda trouble you idjits in this time?"

The guys paused for a second, trying to get ready for Bobby and his foul mood before they went into the house. When Dean stepped inside, he shook his head. "Y'know, the last time I showed up here unannounced, it was right after Cas yanked me outta the furnace, and I did knock, so we've known how to for a while."

Bobby huffed and kept rolling, heading for his study. "Sure seem to forget most of the time…"

Sam and Future-Cas shared a look as they walked into the front hall, and Sam tilted his head towards their angel friend. "Actually, Bobby, we kinda got a lucky break, and we were hoping you might help us make the most of it."

"Is that so." Bobby situated himself behind the desk and started fussing with papers. "And what, pray tell, is this so-called lucky break?"

"Funny you should mention praying…" Dean set his bag down and chuckled. "I'm guessing you haven't taken a good look at Cas yet, huh?"

Bobby raised his head and looked at Future-Cas. Really looked, and Dean saw something click behind Bobby's eyes before the old hunter squinted. "What the hell happened to you?"

Future-Cas rubbed at his forehead and shrugged. "The apocalypse. It's very good to see you, Bobby. Been a while."

Bobby looked him up and down. "Uh-huh… and is somebody gonna fill me in?"

Dean put his bag down and sat in one of the chairs. "One of the winged dicks zapped me five years into the future, to show me just how bad things are gonna get if I don't agree to be an angel condom." He gestured with his thumb towards Future-Cas, who was standing by the doorway to the kitchen. "This is the version of Cas from 2014, so when Zach brought me back to '09, and our Cas saved me from Zach using me as a chew-toy, I had Cas go save his older-self. Now we have two Castiels, and one of 'em knows the roadmap to the apocalypse, so I'm thinking, maybe he can help us avoid mistakes."

Bobby crossed his arms. "And, just where do I fit into all of this?"

Sam and Dean shared a look, and Sam nodded, taking over. "Well, we were kind of hoping he could stay here with you while he's getting his bearings, and since it's five years worth of stuff to go over, it's probably gonna take a while to get through it all. That way, Dean and I can hunt while the two of you figure out what moves to make and what to avoid. Is that," Sam fidgeted, leaning forward and seeming a bit younger and smaller. "D'you think you'd be okay with that?"

"No." Bobby scowled up at them, arms still crossed. "I dunno when you boys got the notion that I was your personal secretary, but just 'cause you say 'jump' don't mean I'm gonna ask how high. And just in case you're gettin' any ideas, I've been livin' on my own for a while now. I like it, and I'm not lookin' for a roommate, or a damn nursemaid."

"Come on, Bobby." Dean rubbed at the back of his neck. "We need to know what he knows, and I don't know anyone who's better than you at figuring this crap out."

Sam nodded his agreement with Dean. "He's right. We need to see more than three moves ahead, figure out where the other Dean and Sam went wrong, and…" he gestured vaguely with his hands, "take a different path than they did. We just got a big win, one that could help us save thousands of people. Help us make the most of it...please?"

Bobby let out a heavy sigh and his hands dropped to his lap. "I guess. Hell, it's better than just sitting here and being useless." He blinked, tipped his head slightly and looked at Future-Cas more closely. "What did you mean, 'it's been a while'? Did somethin' happen to me?"

Future-Cas shifted uncomfortably, rubbing at the back of his neck and leaning heavily against the roll-top desk by the kitchen doorway. "Yeah. See, the way the apocalypse started, Sam said 'yes', and around the same time there was a bad Swine Flu outbreak. We didn't think much of it, figured it was same old, same old… but it was happening around March, not really flu season, which was strange. Then, this new flu vaccine came out, and a lot of people were rushing to get it. Not widespread panic, just like when Bird Flu was around, and we were hunting demons and other monsters, so Dean and I were focused on that." He shifted, closing his eyes and pressing a hand to his forehead with a wince. "People started acting weird after they got the vaccine, and after a couple of weeks we started hearing about more and more cases of demonic possession… but they weren't normal possessions. It was a virus…"

He trailed off, shaking his head, and Sam's eyes went wide. "Croatoan." Sam scrubbed a hand over his face. "Holy crap…"

Future-Cas nodded, eyes still closed and sweat beading on his forehead. "We figured the virus was in the vaccine, but by then, it was too late for us to do anything. Too many people were infected." He winced again and lost his footing. Future-Cas caught himself on the door frame and barely avoided sprawling onto the floor.

Dean shot Sam and Bobby a look, then went over to help the guy. He pulled one of the fallen angel's arms around his shoulders and pretty much hauled the guy upright. Future-Cas barely even tried to hold himself up, which had Dean worried. "Hey, man, you okay?"

Future-Cas shook his head. "I…" he swallowed. "I don't feel right. It isn't… I'm immune to the virus, I still have enough angel mojo to protect me from it and from regular diseases, but…" He put an arm over his stomach and started shaking "something's wrong. Something's very wrong."

Bobby cleared his throat. "How about you boys get him upstairs. No one's usin' the room at the end of the hall anymore, so I guess he can lay up in there till we figure out what's goin' on."

Future-Cas managed a nod. "Thanks."

Bobby studied him thoughtfully. "Mmm-hmm. Just one thing, Cas. Why did you say it'd been a while since you'd seen me? 'Cause with all the crap you're sayin' went down, even stuck in this chair, I'd never leave you boys in the lurch."

Dean craned his neck to look at Future-Cas. He'd been wondering that too, actually. No matter what was going on, Bobby would do whatever he could to help, and they all knew it. Future-Cas hesitated, and Dean stared him down. "Well?"

The ex-angel grimaced. "We'd just figured out the connection between the Croats and the vaccine, with your help, and then you told us that one of your neighbors was going to get a flu shot. The virus hadn't made it to Sioux Falls yet, but we knew it was just a matter of time, so we came here to try and destroy the supply of contaminated vaccine, but…" He trailed off, a pained look on his face, and raised his eyes to look at Bobby, "we were too late. That was in April of 2010."

Bobby sat back in his chair. "You're sayin' I died, or I got turned, which amount to the same thing in my book."

No one knew what to say to that. Bobby took a minute, then nodded at Sam and Dean. "You boys go get him settled upstairs."

Sam came over and put Future-Cas' other arm around his shoulders. Since he was so much taller than Cas, Sammy had to stoop, which made some of his hair tumble out from behind his ears. "Will do, Bobby."

They were heading for the hallway when Bobby's voice stopped them. "Dean?"

The three of them turned in the doorway, Sam waiting and taking more of Future-Cas' weight while Dean twisted around to face Bobby. "Yeah?"

Bobby rolled out from behind the desk. "Once you boys get him settled, I expect to hear what you saw when you were in 2014."

Dean nodded. "You got it."

"And son, don't leave anything out."

"Sure, but you're not gonna like most of it."

Bobby huffed and gestured towards the stairs. "I don't figure on liking it, I just need to know. Now, get a move on before he passes out on you."

Sam and Dean started moving again. They'd barely made the landing when the fallen angel clamped a hand over his mouth. Dean swore under his breath, gripped Future-Cas's arm tighter and steered him towards the upstairs bathroom. "Okay, man. If you've gotta…"

They'd barely made it through the door when Future-Cas shook off their hands and dropped to his knees in front of the toilet… where he promptly and loudly lost his breakfast.

The brothers looked at each other, neither one of them really knowing what to do with themselves in a small, confined space with a guy who was puking into a toilet. After a silent argument – where Dean threw 'paper' instead of 'scissors' for once – Sam rolled his eyes… and then he knelt down next to Future-Cas and put a hand on his back. The fallen angel jerked at the touch, shying away from Sam as much as he could without moving away from the toilet.

"It's gonna be okay, Cas. Just, get rid of whatever's bugging you."

Future-Cas groaned and rested his forehead on the toilet seat. "I don't think it's the food. All I've had since I got here was a burger-"

Dean cut him off. "Which he puked up a couple hours outside Kansas City."

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother and nodded at Cas. "Ignore Dean. What else were you gonna say?"

Future-Cas swallowed, grimaced at the taste, and dragged the back of his hand over his mouth. "Just that I haven't had anything to eat or drink that would have made me sick." He rubbed the heel of his hand into one eye, shaking his head. "It's not the food, and I'm still immune to viruses and bacteria, so it isn't food poisoning or an illness."

Dean frowned. The fallen angel sure looked sick, his skin was pale and clammy. Dean was about to say something about it when his little brother leaned forward and put a hand on Future-Cas' forehead. Dude's eyes closed and some of the tension he'd been holding onto seemed to drain away. Cas let out a little sound which was almost a whimper. "My head won't stop pounding."

After a few moments, Sam turned around with a grimace. He leaned closer to Dean and lowered his voice. "He's burning up."

Dean sighed, looking from his brother to the fallen angel who had just started to worship the porcelain god again. "Stay with him. I got no clue what's up with him, just… try to keep him calm or whatever. I'll ask Bobby where he keeps his medicine…" he headed for the door, half talking to himself, "not that we even know what's wrong, or what'll help him, or if Bobby even has anything." He scrubbed a hand over his face, not really caring that he was clomping back down the stairs like a moody teenager.

Bobby rolled out of the study and frowned up at him. "What's wrong with Cas junior?"

Dean gave a frustrated shrug. He'd brought Cas back to '09 to help the guy, to save him… and here they were, all safe and alive and together at Bobby's, and he had no idea what to do. "We dunno. Dude's got a fever, he's puking his guts out, says his head is killing him and he's shaking like crazy."

Bobby narrowed his eyes. "Is he jumpy? Sweatin' like a pig?"

A nod was his answer.

Bobby sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "Balls. Never thought I'd say this, but it sounds like our angel's got a case of the DT's."

Dean frowned. "How do you know that?"

Bobby shrugged. "I'm an old drunk, Dean, and I've been around other old drunks for most of my life. I know what it looks like when someone stops hitting the bottle, and it looks exactly like what's happening to Cas."

Dean looked towards the upstairs landing, grimacing as he heard the unique sound of dry-heaves echoing off of porcelain. "Awesome."

Chapter Text

Once he'd realized that Cas was probably drying out, Bobby rolled into the study to give Ellen a call. Back when the Roadhouse was still standing, she'd had to deal with this kind of thing when hunters had come in torn up and needed to stay while they healed. Ellen wasn't a fan of medicinal alcohol, and since most of the hunters she knew were some degree or other of alcoholic, this was far from her first rodeo. Because of her 'no booze in bed' rule, most of them got the DTs while she was looking after them, and she'd learned the hard way what worked to help them and what didn't. Most of them didn't like it, but in the long run, her approach helped a lot of hunters. The ones who quit drinking for good tended to live longer than the ones who didn't. The life expectancy of hunters still wasn't great, but sober ones tended to live a few years longer than the drunks.

Dean headed back upstairs, shaking his head. "So, Bobby thinks he might know what's going on…"

"The DT's?"

Dean pulled up short. "Yeah. How did…?"

Sam tilted his head at Cas. "Said he's been through this before. Whenever they went on supply raids, he ransacked pharmacies and medicine cabinets, but sometimes they came up empty, and when that happened," Sam gestured at the toilet.

"This happened." Dean nodded. "Got it." He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to think. "Okay, so when this happened before, what helped?"

Cas shook his head. "I'm not really sure. Dean – the Dean in my time – usually just told me to rest. He'd send out raiding parties to find more drugs for me, and until they got back, we treated it kind of like the flu."

"Well," Dean shrugged at his brother, then turned to Cas. "I guess we'll do that, but we're not getting you more drugs."

"Dean…"

He ignored the pleading look on Cas' face, practically growling, "No. You're getting clean, whether you like it or not." Dean forced himself to breathe for a few seconds, trying to calm down. He was angry. Hell, he was pissed off… at Zach for sending him to that future, at Cas for turning into a fucking junkie, and at his own future self for letting it happen, but he wasn't about to take any of it out on the sad bastard in front of him. Still, he wasn't going to budge on this. Cas being chill was one thing, but he'd be damned all over again if he let the guy stay a junkie and run the risk that he might overdose on something by mistake.

Once he was pretty sure that he could talk without yelling, Dean crouched down so he was eye to eye with Cas. "If there's stuff you actually need, like medicine, that's one thing, but no more drugs, you get me? You said you wanted to hunt with us, but that won't work if you're drunk, high as a freaking kite or stoned out of your mind. How are you gonna watch our backs if you're fucked up? Huh? And what if you OD?"

Cas suddenly seemed to find the floor very interesting. "I can't overdose, Dean."

Dean felt something clench in his gut and his mouth went dry. He shared a look with Sam, knowing that his brother could take over the conversation.

"Did…" Sam shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment as he reached the same conclusion that Dean had. "Cas, did you try to overdose… on purpose, or was it an accident?"

Cas kept staring at the floor and started fidgeting, winding a loose string from his jeans around one finger and tugging at it. "It wasn't an accident."

Dean gave a tight nod and balled his hand into a fist. "Why the fuck would you do that, man?" He didn't wait for a reply. The bathroom was too cramped for Dean to pace, so he stepped out into the hall and stalked up and down outside the door for about a minute, resisting the urge to punch a hole in the wall the entire time. He was beyond pissed off, not to mention freaked out and, if he was being honest, absolutely terrified. What if he tried again? Dean didn't know why Castiel would do something like that. Sure, losing his mojo and living through the apocalypse must have sucked, but not enough to make Castiel want to check out. He shook his head, trying to get a hold of himself, and stopped in the doorway, glaring at the fallen angel.

"And what did future-me do? Huh? Did he kick your ass when he found out?"

It was hard to believe, but Cas looked even more pathetic than he had only a few minutes before. He was already scrunched up on the bathroom floor in his stained and sweaty clothes, still hugging the toilet seat with one shaky arm, but now, the look of abject shame on his face made it worse. Cas couldn't look at either of them, and Sam tried to make a shushing motion, but Dean wasn't about to back down.

"Well? Did I kick your ass?"

Cas swallowed nervously, chanced a look at Dean's face, and winced before looking away again. "You were pretty pissed off. You found me right after, and you… he made it clear that if I tried again, he wouldn't stop me."

Well, that was a slap in the face. Dean felt his anger and fear give way to shock. "He wouldn't… why wouldn't he… I… stop you?" Dean couldn't think of a possible scenario where he'd let Cas or anyone else he cared about kill themselves, and he certainly couldn't imagine walking in on a suicide attempt and then telling the person to just go ahead with it.

The former angel wouldn't answer, and he wouldn't look at either of the brothers.

Sam gave Cas a sympathetic pat on the back. "Y'know what? I think we can finish talking about this later."

Dean opened his mouth to argue, because damn it, he wanted to straighten this all out now, but Sam just shook his head and held out a placating hand. "The most important thing right now is making sure that Cas will be okay, so… Cas, I don't think there's anything left in your stomach, so how about we get you set up in that bedroom?"

Cas put a hand to his belly and glanced at the toilet nervously.

Sam smiled, but it was clearly forced. "If you need to puke again, we can get you a bucket or something. I just think you'd be more comfortable in bed than sitting on the floor in here." He fidgeted, running a hand through his unruly hair. "Also, uh… I'd like to grab a shower, and I don't usually have an audience for that."

It took nearly a minute of Sam and Dean just looking at Cas before the guy agreed to leave the bathroom.

The brothers shared a look, then Sam nodded and knelt down, pulling Cas' arm over his shoulders and hauling the fallen angel to his feet. Once they reached the doorway, Dean ducked under Cas' free arm and grabbed hold of the guy's middle. He tried to ignore the fact that he could feel Cas' ribcage through a couple layers of clothing, and just focused on getting the guy to bed. Dude wasn't quite skin and bones, but he was close enough to it that Dean's frown deepened. Chalk one up to the Apocalypse diet… Hell, Dean knew that running for your life was good exercise, but months – hell, make that years – of living like that had clearly taken their toll. Dean shook his head. They could worry about putting some meat on Cas after they'd gotten him through his detox.

Dean took a steadying breath. "Okay, Bobby said you can crash in his old room, so we've gotta hang a right." They turned down the hall and headed for the old hunter's bedroom.

The door at the end of the hall led to the master bedroom, but that wasn't where they were going. Bobby's old room was at the end of the hall on the right, in the corner diagonally across from the hall closet. Even though Bobby was the only one who'd lived in the house full-time for the past twenty-some-odd years, he didn't use the master bedroom. No one did.

The master bedroom hadn't been used for as long as Dean could remember. He'd looked in there once when he was little, wondering why the biggest room on the second floor had boarded up windows, dust everywhere and sheets over the furniture. When he'd asked his dad, John had just shushed him and told him not to say anything about it to Bobby. Now, Dean wondered if Bobby avoided that room because it reminded him of his late wife. Stabbing his beloved wife to death after she'd gotten possessed must have messed Bobby up, and if the guy hadn't wanted to sleep in the room that the two of them had shared, well, Dean couldn't really blame him.

Sam opened the door of the smallish bedroom and they hauled Cas inside.

"Okay, buddy. Let's get you set up in here."

Cas didn't protest being man-handled. He didn't say anything. He just stumbled along between them, sweating through his clothes and shaking.

When they got to the bed, Sam and Dean shared a look. Dean tightened his arm around the fallen angel, feeling weirdly protective of the guy. Sam sighed and rolled his eyes, giving Dean a look. The two of them had been able to communicate with just a look for years, and that skill came in handy now. Sam shook his head. `"So now you wanna take care of him?"

Dean lifted his chin, raising one eyebrow and glaring right back, "Yeah, I do. Problem?"

Sam sighed again, resigned now instead of annoyed, ducked out from under Cas' arm and started getting the bed ready. Once the covers were straightened and turned down, he nodded and motioned for Dean to get Cas settled. "Okay, guys. All set here."

Dean gave Cas a squeeze. "Let's get you into bed, okay, buddy?"

Cas nodded and allowed the brothers to guide him towards the mattress. He sat down and kicked off his shoes, shivering and tugging at the sleeves of his jacket. It seemed like a nervous habit… and that drove home even further how human this Cas was.

"Hey, how about you take that off." Sam nodded to the beat up army jacket… which Dean recognized as his own, just older and more battered from the intervening years.

Dean shook off that realization and forced a smile. "Yeah, man. You'll rest easier without that on." He was glad that the ex-angel had already taken off his gun belt and left his Beretta 92FS pistol, his Valtro PM5 shotgun, and his Heckler & Koch MP5A3 friggin' sub-machine gun behind. Cas had unbuckled the holster and set the guns aside before settling down in the back seat for his nap, and when he'd left the backseat in his mad dash away from Sam, the big guns had stayed on the floor. Dean had admired the guy's hardware, but was glad that he wasn't insisting on toting the guns around everywhere. The ex-angel's rucksack had come into the house; it was still on the floor in the library, and Dean had no idea what was in it... aside from the holstered Beretta. Probably ammo, too... and a flask. Maybe that bottle of amphetamines he'd seen the guy down when they were driving off back in 2014.

Dean shook his head. No, he was pretty sure that Cas had taken that bottle out of his jacket pocket and then put it back in the same place. Well, they certainly didn't want the guy to have any drugs within reach, so Dean stepped forward and helped Sam to peel the ex-angel out of his jacket.

Once they'd gotten the jacket off, Dean shoved it at Sam, gesturing for his brother to take it away. "Think you can grab something for him to drink, in case he gets thirsty?"

Sam nodded and headed for the hallway, taking the jacket with him while Dean tugged off the guy's socks and stuffed them inside his worn combat boots. Once the boots were lined up at the base of the nightstand, Dean nudged Cas to lie down and pulled the covers up over him. The ex-angel frowned, then shifted around under the sheets. He turned onto his back, bent his knees, lifted his hips off the mattress… Dean cleared his throat and looked away, then glanced back, wondering what the hell the guy was doing. About a minute later, Cas' ripped jeans fell to the floor. Dean nodded to himself. Okay, that made sense. Hell, he never slept in his jeans, either, if he could help it. He was just glad that Cas had done all of that under the covers. What if the guy went commando…

Nope. Dean shook his head, derailing that train of thought before it could get too far from the station.

There was a chair in one corner of the room. A shirt and a belt had been thrown over the back of it, and Dean moved those to the top of Bobby's dresser before he pulled the chair up to sit at Cas' bedside.

Sam came back without the jacket and holding a glass of water. Dean nodded at the nightstand, and Sam put the glass down there. Afterwards, Sam hovered in the doorway, looking uncertain. "You sure you're good here? Cuz, I mean, I can wait to grab a shower..."

Dean shook his head and gestured toward the door. "Go on, Sammy. I'll shout if I need you."

Sam nodded and gave him a sad smile. "This reminds me of old times."

What? Dean blinked up at him. "How d'you mean?"

Sam shrugged. "Just, seeing you take care of him. The way you," his smile faltered, and he looked down at the floor. "The way you always took care of me, when I was little."

Dean clenched his jaw and turned away from the doorway. He might not be taking care of the kid any more, but he sure as hell was still cleaning up after his messes. A few slow breaths later, he felt calm enough to respond without sparking a fight. "Yeah, well... it's not like I had a choice. Someone had to."

He heard the floorboards shift under Sam's weight. The kid muttered something about grabbing his bag from downstairs, and Dean nodded in acknowledgement without turning around. Footsteps retreated down the hall, and Dean let out a sigh.

That went well.

"Dean?" The ex-angel's voice shook.

"Yeah, buddy?" Dean glanced from the trashcan to the glass of water Sam had put by the bed. He really hoped that the guy wasn't about to be sick again. "You, uh, what do you need?

"I… I don't know."

Fuck. The guy sounded so scared.

"It's gonna be okay, man. I'm not goin' anywhere, and Ellen's on the way. She's helped lots of hunters get through what's happening to you, and she's gonna be here in a few hours. You've just gotta hang on till she gets here."

Cas worried at his lower lip, eyes darting around the room.

"Hey," Dean moved from his chair and sat on the edge of the bed. "Just hang in there, Cas."

The ex-angel made a small, sad sound and twisted under the covers. "I don't… it feels wrong, Dean. Everything feels wrong, and I can't…"

Dean sighed. He was in way over his head, and he had no real idea of how to help the guy, but he wasn't about to leave him to suffer alone. He grabbed Cas' wrist, trying not to let his worry spike when the guy's skin was cold and damp beneath his palm. "Hey, it's okay. Just… try to breathe."

Cas shut his eyes and nodded against the pillow. "Right… okay." His hand groped blindly, and when his fingers brushed over Dean's sleeve, Cas held on tight.

After about a minute, during which Cas held onto Dean for dear life and tried to calm his breathing, the guy doubled over, almost sitting up.

"Whoah, whoa…" Dean was torn between wanting to give the guy some room or moving closer to see how he could help. He felt his heart beating faster as he squeezed Cas' arm. "Hey, talk to me. What's wrong?"

Cas looked up at him, his sweaty face pale and full of misery. He shook his head and put his free hand to his stomach.

Dean nodded, grabbing the trashcan and holding it up in case they needed it. "Okay, man. There's a trashcan right in front of you."

The ex-angel nodded, groaned, and retched into the trashcan. Dean shook his head, holding the trashcan in place with one hand and using his other arm to help Cas stay upright. "You're gonna be okay, man. We just gotta get through this, and then you'll be fine."

Cas coughed and gagged, but nothing came up aside from saliva and bile. When it seemed like the bout was over, Dean rested his hand on the back of Cas' neck and gave him a gentle squeeze. "D'you wanna sit back again?"

He got a miserable little nod in reply.

"Okay, I'm just gonna put this down." He set the trashcan back on the floor. "I know you might need it again, but till then, you should really try to rest."

This time, the reply was a groan as Cas sat back against the pillows.

Dean tried to think of some way to help, but none of his genius ideas decided to pop up, so he sighed and just tried to wing it. "Hey, you should have some water. Dunno if it'll help, but you can rinse out the taste of-" he gestured lamely at the trashcan.

Cas opened one eye to peer at him. "It's just going to come back up again."

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, probably, but it'll feel better to actually have something in your stomach, even if it's only for a little while. Besides, you're gonna get dehydrated."

Cas' answer was a groan, but Dean grabbed the glass and help it up for him, mustering a smile. "Come on, buddy. Just drink half of it. How's that for a compromise?"

The ex-angel grumbled but pulled the glass towards himself and started to drink. He wound up draining the whole thing, then pushed the glass back towards Dean and settled further into the pillows. "Happy now?"

Dean patted his shoulder. "Yup. Just try to sleep, buddy. I'll be right here."

His answer was a quiet grumble, followed by Cas shifting himself against the pillows, trying to find a comfortable position. "Thanks."

Dean smiled and nodded, even though the ex-angel had closed his eyes. "No problem."

A little while later, Dean caught himself humming 'Hey Jude,' and even though it was kinda weird, he went with it. It seemed to help the ex-angel calm down some, and that was good enough for Dean. Hell, if it helped Cas feel better, he'd put on a sombrero and do the fucking chicken dance. He kept up the humming, Cas' breathing steadied and after a while, he was relieved to see that the guy had fallen asleep.

Dean sat with Cas for about half an hour, just watching the guy breathe and twitch in his sleep. He tossed and turned every so often, whipped his head back and forth against the pillows, kicked at the covers or just muttered to himself, but at least he was sleeping. Sam came back into the room wearing clean clothes and scrubbing a towel over his hair. Dean held up a finger, motioning for Sam to be quiet, and jerked his head towards the bed. Sam nodded, stepping back into the hall, and kept drying his hair. Dean smiled to himself, thinking that with his hair all messed up and wild, Sam looked a lot like a big dog who had escaped from a groomer.

Dean stood up and took another look at Cas. The guy was sweating through his shirt, so Dean folded the covers down and tugged the sheet up to cover Cas' chest better. Cas murmured to himself and turned over onto his side, facing away from Dean. Dean sighed. There was really nothing else they could do for the guy until Ellen arrived, so he reluctantly left the room and joined his brother in the hall. He closed the door most of the way, making sure to be quiet about it, then moved towards the stairs gesturing for Sam to follow him.

They went back downstairs and made a bee-line for the library, where Bobby was sitting and going through papers behind the desk.

Dean's stomach growled and he put a hand over his belt. "Man, I'm starving. Bobby, you got anything for us to eat?"

Bobby huffed at him without looking up. "I'm not runnin' a hotel here, but there's food in the kitchen and I'm sure you can fix yourselves something to eat. Once you've got all that taken care of, best you try to grab some shuteye. Ellen's about three hours away on a hunt with Rufus, so you might wanna take turns watching over Cas till she gets here."

The boys nodded and Bobby frowned up at them, his eyes shifting from one brother to the other. "When's the last time either of you slept?"

Sam shrugged. "Last night, before Dean called me." He looked over at his brother, frowning when Dean didn't answer. "Dean?"

Dean shifted uneasily. "2014."

Sam blinked at him. "What?"

"Well, Zach sent me to the future and pulled me outta there after a while, then Cas got me away from him and brought Keith Richards to '09, and then I went to meet up with you. It was a busy night, okay?"

Sam rubbed a hand over his face. "Yeah, I'm getting that. So, you haven't slept for how long?"

Dean just shrugged. He didn't see why it mattered. He'd gotten four hours… at some point, not too long ago. "I dunno. Wasn't really keeping track, what with the whole zombie apocalypse."

Bobby shook his head. "You're no good to us runnin' on fumes, son. Go hit the hay. Sam can look after Cas till Ellen arrives."

"Come on, Bobby."

The older hunter scowled up at him, rolling out from behind the desk. "Did it sound like I was asking? Go sleep, boy."

Dean raised his hands in surrender. "Okay already." He shook his head, headed over to the couch and sat down heavily, grumbling as he kicked off his shoes. "I haven't had anything to eat except a burger since then, either."

"Don't push it." Bobby rolled his eyes and threw a blanket at Dean. Dean glared, catching the blanket before it could hit him in the face, and Bobby's scowl softened. "I'll have somethin' for you when you wake up. Alright?"

Dean settled in, spreading the blanket over himself and throwing an arm up to shield his eyes from the waning daylight. "Thanks, Bobby. You're the best."

He heard grumbling and the squeak of wheels as Bobby rolled himself towards the kitchen, and Sam's footsteps headed toward the stairs. Dean shifted, getting comfortable in his makeshift bed. It was far from perfect, but it felt like home.

Chapter Text

Ellen's station wagon pulled into the yard just over three hours after Bobby called her.

The sound of the engine woke Dean up, and he pulled himself upright. He started to make his way to the stairs so he could shout up to Sam, but then he realized that would wake Cas up… assuming that the poor bastard had been able to get some solid sleep, so instead he called Sam's cell. While they talked, he ran a hand over his hair, trying to stop it from sticking up like a hedgehog. They both hung up, and about a minute later Sam joined him in the front hall, just as a knock sounded on the door.

Sam looked Dean up and down, swallowing a grin at his brother's bleary-eyed glare. After a moment, Sam shook his head, sighed and went to open the door.

Once his back was turned, Dean scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to wake himself up a bit more.

Sam let Ellen in and took her bags. She nodded her thanks and smiled at them both. "Hey, boys."

Sam put the bags down and gave her a hug. "Thanks for coming."

She returned the hug, then stepped over to Dean. "Hell, the last time I called for help, you boys hauled ass to save me from that Horseman. Least I can do is lend a hand now." She put her hands on her hips and looked at Dean expectantly.

He smiled and hugged her too. "Still, thanks. We really don't know how to help him."

She chuckled into his shoulder. "Then it's a good thing I'm here."

The hug ended and Dean looked behind her, watching the door expectantly. "I thought Jo was with you?"

Ellen shook her head, her happy expression fading slightly. "No, she stayed with Rufus to clear up the vamp nest we were tracking near Storm Lake. Rufus is gonna swing by and drop her off once they're done." She shook her head with a grimace. "Much as I hate letting Jo hunt, at least she's got Rufus with her, and he knows what I'll do to him if he lets my little girl get hurt."

Sam gave her a soft smile and offered to take her bags upstairs. Ellen thanked him but told him not to bother and went to find a seat in the kitchen. The boys followed her in and Bobby called out a greeting from the library.

"I'm surprised you left her on a hunt. I mean, when we saw you in River Pass, you said that the only reason you were okay with her hunting was that you went with her." Dean commented as he headed for the fridge and grabbed beers for all of them.

"I know." she replied, "She wouldn't hear of leavin' Rufus to finish the job solo, so here I am. I'm not thrilled about it, but she can handle herself, and Rufus is watching her back." She shook her head, smiling proudly. "Those two make a good team."

Ellen put up a bold front, but Dean could tell how hard it was for Ellen to leave Jo with Rufus on a hunt. Hell, he couldn't blame her for worrying about her daughter, and after what happened to her husband, well… Their messy family history probably made it even more difficult for Ellen to drop everything and come help them, but she'd still come, and Dean was beyond grateful.

"Well, we really appreciate you coming to help, Ellen." Apparently, Sam also understood how hard it was for her.

She shook her head with a rueful smile. "The things I do for you boys…" she proceeded to take a bottle from Dean and swallowed down a long swig of beer. "Of course," she went on, "if anything happens to Jo while I'm here, I'm gonna be taking it out of your asses too."

Dean shook his head and grabbed a beer for himself. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

Sam brought her up to speed with Cas' condition as they sat at the small kitchen table, sipping on their beers.

"So what are you boys going to do now?" She asked.

Dean looked at her over his beer and shrugged. It seemed obvious to him. "We're gonna take care of Cas."

"I mean now that I'm here." She pushed further. "I can handle it, you know, and you boys've done enough. Why don't you go an' get some rest?"

Dean had another sip of his beer. "I just got a few hours shuteye, so I'll be good until later tonight." He looked away, eyes focusing on a spot at the corner of the old carpet. "Besides, I need to help Cas. I need to do something. If I just sit around I'll go nuts…"

"Maybe we could head out, help Rufus and Jo finish their job. That would get them here faster," Sam offered, looking hopefully at Ellen.

Ellen shook her head, "As much as I'm not happy about Joanna-Beth taking up hunting," she said sternly before her eyes softened a bit, "She's a fine hunter, I can't take that away from her." She sighed. "Besides, they were nearly done when I left, so I don't think you're really needed there. I'm sure you can find something else to do."

Sam got his laptop out and started looking for a job. They sat in relative silence, the only sounds in the room being Sam's fingers racing across the keyboard and the occasional swish of beer when Dean or Ellen took a swig. After a few minutes, Sam raised his eyes to catch Dean's and turned his laptop around.

Dean scrolled through the cases that Sam had found, pausing when he came to one that looked promising. "Huh. Okay, there's word of a possible case in Canton, Ohio. Dude died from what looks like a head-on collision in a parked car."

He looked over at Sam, who tipped his head slightly, not giving anything away about what he might be thinking. Dean nodded to himself. "Sounds like our kinda thing." Dean shifted his attention to Ellen. "Are you sure you got this? Because if you need us here, I'm sure someone else can take that case."

"No." Ellen reached across the table and squeezed his wrist. "You boys go ahead. Bobby and I are more than capable of handling one weedy guy through detox."

"Ex-angel." Dean reminded her, "He's still pretty strong. Don't let the skinny hippie thing fool you. This is a guy who fought through Hell for forty years and yanked me outta the pit. Besides, Bobby can't help unless you get the 'weedy guy' downstairs. Hell, there's Bobby to deal with, too. He's not in great shape, either."

"Not my first strung out hunter." Ellen got up from the table and nudged him fondly. "And don't worry about Bobby, either. I'll manage. You boys go hunt that monster, and don't come back till it's done for. Jo'll probably be here by the time you get back."

"Come on, Dean," Sam took the laptop back and started to put it away. "There's nothing more we can do here, you know that. Ellen knows how to help Cas, so we should just let her do her thing. Besides," he got up and gave a smile which seemed forced, "It'll do us good to go out there and do what we're best at. I'm not sure this case is the kind of thing we should be focusing on, but it beats sitting around here and doing nothing."

Dean hummed and nodded his agreement, but took a few more moments before he actually convinced himself to get up.

Sam was packing his stuff up, and Dean hadn't really unpacked, so he went into the library to get his bag. After a quick check through his stuff, Dean went upstairs to check on Cas. He wanted to let the guy know what was happening. He knew how much it sucked to feel abandoned, especially when you're already feeling like crap, and he sure as hell wasn't gonna do that to Cas.

Dean walked down the hall towards Cas' room and gently pushed the door open, flinching a bit when the hinges squeaked.

He paused for a moment, waiting to hear if the noise had woken Cas up.

Nothing.

Dean let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and stepped into the bedroom.

The guy was tossing and turning, kicking at the sheets and occasionally making small, unhappy noises. Dean shook his head. He hated to wake the guy… if Cas was actually asleep, but he couldn't convince himself to leave without telling the fallen angel where – and why – he was going.

He cleared his throat and whispered, "Cas?"

The shifting on the bed paused for a few moments, then it started up again.

Dean shook his head. "You awake, buddy?"

"I don't know…" Cas' voice was ragged, like he'd been shouting himself hoarse. The blankets had been kicked down, but the sheet was pulled up over Cas' head. It reminded Dean of the bit in Trainspotting when the main character was detoxing from heroin and… fuck, Cas hadn't been on heroin, had he? Well, when he'd asked Cas if he was high, dude had confirmed that, but what was he high on? Dean had assumed it was just weed, but maybe some oxy was in the mix, too. Neither one of those would be hard to come by in zombieland. One could be grown, and the other was stashed in the medicine cabinets of abandoned homes. So, he'd been on a cocktail of speed, booze, and god only knew what else? Holy shit.

Cas pushed the sheet away, blinked owlishly and licked his lips as Dean glanced at the empty drinking glass on the nightstand. "Hey, how about I get you some more water?"

His answer was a frown and a nervous swallow as Cas turned onto his other side.

"Come on, man," Dean hesitated. "Did you, uh… what happened to the water I gave you before? Did it come back up?"

Cas started breathing more quickly. "I… I don't remember." He closed his eyes, head falling back against the pillow. "Maybe?"

Dean patted his shoulder, hoping to stop the guy from panicking. "It's okay, Cas. It doesn't matter. Are you thirsty now?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

Dean forced a smile. "Then I'll get you some water. D'you want anything to eat?"

Cas shook his head, making a sad little sound. "I don't… maybe."

Dean patted his arm. "Well, I'll get you that water, and I'm sure Ellen'll get you any snacks you want."

"Ellen?" Cas blinked at him and rubbed a hand over his face. "She's here?"

Dean nodded. "Yup. Got here about half an hour ago." He took a deep breath, eyes darting around the room and only briefly landing on Cas as he worked up the nerve to say what he'd actually come in here to say. When he finally turned to face the fallen angel, he was met with narrowed eyes and a frown.

"Why are you here?" Cas' eyes roamed over his face, probably searching for any hint of nefarious intent. Or not. Maybe he was just curious and Dean was imagining things. "And why are you being so shifty?"

Yeah, not imagining things.

Dean sighed. Well, he'd come up here to be direct. "Ellen doesn't want me and Sam underfoot while she's getting you through your detox, so she's sending us on a case." He avoided looking Cas in the eye, managing instead to talk to the guy's chin. "Well, Sam found the case, and he doesn't think it's a real job, but I think it might be. I don't wanna leave you here, man, but Ellen wants us out of her hair, and Sam's itching to get out there and help people." He shook his head, scoffing, "Like saving a few poor schmucks is gonna make up for him letting the devil out."

Cas didn't say anything to that, and Dean didn't look up at his face, so he didn't know how the ex-angel had reacted to any of it. Dean shifted in his chair awkwardly, then stood up. "I'll, uhh… I'll get that water for you."

Dean grabbed the empty glass off the nightstand and beat a hasty retreat to the hall. Once he got the the bathroom, he turned the taps on and filled the glass. While the glass filled, Dean looked at himself in the mirror. Why was he tying himself up in knots? It wasn't like he was leaving Cas in a ditch somewhere. The guy would be safe at Bobby's, and Ellen knew what she was doing… so why did he feel so guilty?

He realized that the glass was full and overflowing, the water running over his knuckles and down the drain. He put the cup aside and splashed some water over his face, hoping to clear his head. No luck, so he turned off the taps, frowned at himself in the mirror, scrubbed a towel over his face and headed back to Cas' room.

When he got back to the room, Cas had sat up against the pillows and was blinking up at him. Dean forced a smile. "Here's the water."

Cas nodded listlessly and held out a shaky hand for the glass. Dean didn't like the way that Cas was struggling to keep his arm steady, so he held onto the glass and helped the fallen angel raise it so he could drink. Once Cas had a few swallows, he pushed the glass away. Dean put the remaining water on the nightstand, where Cas could reach it, and then he just stood by the bed, not sure what to do with himself.

Cas settled back into the pillows. "How far away is it?"

Dean blinked. "How far away is what?"

Cas rolled his eyes, seeming annoyed. "The case. How long will you be gone?"

Oh.

Dean rubbed a hand at the back of his neck. "The case is in Ohio, so we'll be gone at least a few days, maybe longer." The fallen angel clearly wasn't happy about that, but hell, leaving hadn't been Dean's idea. "Look, man. I don't wanna go, but we've gotta go where we can do the most good. It'll give you time to get through this and start feeling better. Hell," he let out a self-deprecating laugh, "you know me and Sam aren't good at this whole nursemaid thing. Ellen will know how to help you."

That didn't seem to reassure him much… or at all. Cas turned over onto his side again and kicked at the sheets, then tugged them back up. "What's the case?"

Dean shrugged. "Dunno. Dude died from what looks like a head-on collision in a parked car."

Cas grumbled to himself, then pushed his cheek into the pillow. "So, you're thinking witch or cursed object?"

Dean shrugged again. "Maybe." That was enough stalling. If they didn't leave soon, Ellen would probably come upstairs and drag him out by his ear. He patted Cas on the shoulder. "I'll tell you all about it when I get back. Alright?"

The fallen angel's eyes stayed shut, but he nodded against his pillow. "Don't get killed."

He rolled his eyes at that, "I'm good at my job, Cas. You just let Ellen take care of you. Feel better, buddy."

Another tired nod, another pat to the shoulder, and Dean stepped into the upstairs hall.

Dean came back downstairs and grabbed his bag from the library. He joined Sam, who was standing in the front hall.

Sam looked at him. "All set?"

Dean nodded, then glanced back at the stairs with a worried frown. Sam sighed and shifted his bag on his shoulder. "Dude, he'll be fine. We've got a case… might not be anything, but…" just then, Ellen came out of the kitchen and practically herded them out the door, assuring them that everything was under control and they should get going before another corpse showed up.

"I don't need you boys here." She glared, swatting at them with a dishtowel. "I got Bobby and Cas to deal with, you'll only be getting in my way. Go!"

Sam offered to drive, since Dean hadn't gotten much sleep over the last few days. Of course, Dean shot him down, thinking that keeping his mind on the road and their new case might help distract him from the whole situation. Also, between worrying about Cas, and the tension that had been bubbling just under the surface between him and Sam, Dean knew that he wouldn't be able to sleep again until he'd fought something.

Still, he couldn't help glancing back over his shoulder at the house as they drove off. Yeah, Ellen said she had it all under control, but that didn't mean Dean was happy to leave Cas behind when he knew that the guy was suffering. It felt like he was abandoning his friend, and he hated that feeling. He tried to tell himself that Cas was in good hands, but it didn't help. He caught Sam looking at him out of the corner of his eye, and Dean rolled his shoulders, clearing his throat as he nodded towards the box of cassettes.

"Hey Sam, see if you can dig out Zep II?"

Sam rolled his eyes but picked up the box and started looking for the tape. "Okay." He let out a sigh, grumbling to himself about his brother's taste in music.

Dean gripped the steering wheel tighter. Yeah, this was gonna be fun.

A day or so later, Bobby was alone in the library with the phone cradled against his shoulder. Ellen was upstairs, taking care of Cas. She seemed to have a handle on how to deal with the guy, so Bobby wasn't too worried about the detoxing ex-angel. He was busy worrying about the boys.

"Hang on." Bobby wheeled himself forward, reached for his trusty bottle of wild turkey, and found that it was empty. "Balls…" he swore under his breath, then got back to the desk and picked up his phone. "So, now it's two ghosts?"

Dean's answer started with a laugh. "Yeah, Abraham Lincoln and James Dean, can you believe that?"

"Two famous ghosts showing up at once is weird, but you said there were personal items of theirs at this museum…"

"Still, Bobby. It's buggin' me. Why so kill-crazy? Ah, maybe the apocalypse has got 'em all hot and bothered. Yeah, well, we all know whose fault that is."

"Dean, you really shouldn't say that. It wasn't Sam's fault that Ruby bitch played him…"

"...Well I'm sorry, but it's true."

"Dean, you need to go easy on your brother." Bobby heard the sound of a door slamming, and then Dean took in a sharp breath.

"I'll call you later. Bye," and Dean hung up.

Bobby looked at the phone in his hand, listening to the dial tone for a few seconds and shaking his head before putting the receiver back in it's cradle. "Idjits."

Ellen walked into the room, wiping her hands on a dish towel and then slinging the cloth over her shoulder. "Was that the boys?"

He nodded. "Yeah. If those two damn fools finish this hunt without killing each other, it'll be a miracle."

Ellen smiled. "You mean, the brothers who've both died and come back to life a few times? Where those two are concerned, I think miracles happen just a bit more regular than for the rest of us."

Bobby 'humphed' but nodded again. "Fair enough." He sighed. "So, how's the patient?"

Ellen shook her head. "Well, he's jumpier than before, and now he's seein' things. Called me a liar and said something about not believing me." She shrugged. "The hallucinations I'm used to are guys thinking spiders are coming out of their arms, but this is something else. I dunno if it's cause he's a fallen angel, or cause he was on a whole mess of drugs…" Bobby opened his mouth to ask, but she held up a hand and then fished a folded bit of paper out of her back pocket. "Yes, I got him to list them off for me. Oxy, amphetamines, whiskey, marijuana, absinthe…" She shook her head, eyeing the list before she handed it over. "He was on uppers and downers."

"Probably took whatever he could get his hands on." Bobby accepted the list and shook his head as he looked it over. "That jackass sure did a number on himself."

"Yeah. Looks like the only thing on here which won't be giving us a hard time is the weed, since he says he's been off it before without it being a problem. 'Course, he might be lying about that." Ellen let herself fall onto the couch, her tired sigh almost drowning out the indignant squeak of the seat cushions. "I'm taking a break from trying to wrangle him." She closed her eyes and let her head tip back to rest on the cushions. "Once I've had something to eat, I'll get back in there, but for now, I'm thinking we should just let him be."

Bobby raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"

Ellen nodded against the couch. "The first couple days are usually the worst. He's sweating it all out of his system, and I was expecting a bumpy ride. If you wanna look up detox symptoms, recommendations and all that for the crap on this list, I'm sure it'd help, but the main thing that's gonna help him is time, and knowing that we're looking after him."

Bobby started to roll behind his desk, since his usual go-to for research was his extensive library of lore books, then caught himself. That wouldn't help this time. The info they needed was online, probably on a few different websites, which meant cross-referencing. He shook his head at himself and did a sloppy three-point-turn to point himself at the kitchen, where he kept the computer. His PC had lived in the library for a while, but some time after Dean's stint in Hell, he'd put it in the kitchen on a little table by the windows. The idea had been to make room on his desk, but that hadn't exactly worked out. No matter what he did, piles of crap always seemed to build up.

Bobby was rolling himself past the couch when a hand fell on his arm. The sudden touch surprised him, and he whipped his head around to see that Ellen had cracked one eye open. "What?"

She gave a tired smile. "Don't think I've forgotten about you, Bobby."

He frowned, not sure what she meant. "What are you gettin' at?"

She chuckled. "The boys had me promise to look after you, too."

Bobby shrugged her hand off and scowled at her. "I told the boys and I'll tell you, I don't need a damn nursemaid."

Both of her eyes came open, but instead of glaring at him or stubbornly insisting that he needed looking after, she just smiled at him. "I know you can look after yourself, Bobby. Hell, the boys know it, too, or they'd never have left you alone after you got out of the hospital. Thing is, you've been thrown one hell of a curveball and we want to lend a hand, if you'll let us. All I'm sayin' is that I'm here to help, and that's what I'm gonna do. Even if it's something little like running errands into town, helping with the cooking or doing dishes."

He grudgingly admitted to himself that none of what she was saying sounded too bad. "Fine, but don't get any ideas about bossin' me around."

Ellen let her eyes slide closed again, a satisfied look settling over her face as she settled deeper into the couch. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Chapter Text

They were wrapping up their case when Dean got the call.

As in, they'd left the wax museum and were taking the girl they'd rescued to the hospital. And Danielle, the girl they'd rescued from Leshii, was currently unconscious in the back seat of the Impala. They had just parked by the hospital, and the brothers were in the middle of trying to help Danielle out of the back seat. Not a great time for Bobby to call with bad news about their favorite time-traveling ex-angel. Dean said as much, so once Sam had gotten Danielle out of the car, they carried her into the ER. Once they'd finished tap-dancing around the hospital staff and Sheriff Carnegie's questions, they got back on the road. Sam took the opportunity to call Bobby back and he put the call on speaker so he and Dean could both weigh in on the conversation.

Apparently, Cas' detox wasn't going too well. Bobby told him that Cas hadn't been sleeping, wouldn't eat, and he'd hollered at Bobby and Ellen whenever they tried to come near him. Trying to manhandle him hadn't worked out, either. Even if he was 'basically human', Cas was still more than a match for wheelchair-bound Bobby. As for Ellen, she felt too maternal toward Cas to shoot him with a tranq gun, and as tough as she was, she apparently couldn't hold her own in a wrestling match with a detoxing ex-angel. Dean half-remembered some joke about crackheads being crazy strong… then he frowned. Aside from the absinthe – which must have worn off – and the amphetamines, he had no idea what Cas was actually on. He sure as hell hoped that crack wasn't in the mix.

Based on what Cas had yelled at Bobby and Ellen, they'd figured out that he didn't believe they actually were who they said they were. Their best guess was that hippie Cas – Dean grimaced at the unintentional nickname, he had to think of something better to call the guy – thought that he was being held prisoner by people pretending to be his dead friends. At some point during the detox, he'd gotten so out of it that he didn't remember anything about being zapped to 2009. He seemed to think that he was still in the 2014 Croatoan-zombieland, and since Dean was the only one of them who was still alive and well in that fucked-up future, Bobby and Ellen had decided that the best chance for getting Cas through the DTs was to have Dean try to calm him down.

Dean took one hand off the steering wheel and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You know I wanna help, Bobby. Hell, I didn't mean to just leave him on your doorstep in a friggin' basket… and we'll be there as soon as we can, okay? But Sammy and me just got done cutting off Paris Hilton's head – long story – and we're beat. We're on our way back to the motel from dropping off a girl at the hospital. We'll drive out in the morning and see you some time tomorrow."

Bobby paused, and Dean wondered what it said about their relationship that he knew Bobby was fidgeting.

"Look, son… it's been days since he's touched food or water – except to throw 'em – he ain't sleepin', and Ellen says he's got the worst case of night sweats she's ever seen. He's sweatin' out more'n he's drinkin', and we can't get near him without him raising holy hell. I'd take him to the hospital for an IV or something, just to get some fluids into 'em, if I wasn't so damn sure they'd chuck him in the nuthouse and throw away the key." The older hunter took a shuddering breath. "It's bad, Dean. If we could get him to drink water that'd be something, but…"

"What about Cas… our Cas, now Cas? Can't he help?" Dean knew he was grasping at straws, but he was just so damn tired. He really didn't think he could handle a long drive… not without wrecking Baby, and he didn't want to choose between his angel and his car.

"He came already and helped some, but he can't do anything about dehydration or withdrawal. Best he can do is make his future self sleep for a few hours, but that don't fix the problem. Bottom line is, if we can't get him to drink something in the next twenty four hours, we'll have to take him to the hospital. Neither one of us knows how to set up a fluid IV, so hospital's his only chance, and unless we take him to the VA and try to convince them that he's a vet with PTSD, which is still a long shot, he'll probably get committed."

Of course, the case Sam and Dean had just wrapped up – with Gandhi and Paris Hilton – was in Canton Ohio, over a fourteen hour drive from Bobby's. The distance meant that if they slept in Canton and left in the morning, chances were that Cas would be looking at the inside of a padded cell by the time they got to Sioux Falls.

Dean scowled at the streetlights, knowing that there was really only one thing he could do. "Bobby, we'll head over to your place as soon as we've packed up the car. See you sometime tomorrow."

Bobby breathed into the phone. "Thanks, son. We'll see you then."

Sam hung up the phone with an annoyed-sounding breath. "We can head out in the morning, Dean. We both need to sleep."

Dean ignored him and pressed harder on the gas.

As soon as they parked at the motel, Dean was out of the Impala and heading for their room, intent on getting everything squared away so they could get on the road. He opened the door and made a bee-line for his bed, grabbing his duffle bag from the floor and putting it on the motel mattress. "Okay, let's get packed."

Instead of looking up, Dean shucked his jacket, flannel overshirt and his tee-shirt, and grabbed something clean from his bag.

"Come on Dean, we're both beat-"

Dean's head snapped up at that. "It's Cas!"

Sam backed off, holding his hands up in token of surrender. "Dude, we just fought off a frigging god. We need a shower and some sleep."

Dean caught a glimpse of himself in their room's mirror, and felt a twinge of guilt when he saw the the stony-faced glare he was giving his little brother. Great, because that's just what he needed: more guilt.

It wasn't bad enough that he hadn't thought through bringing Cas to 2009, and hadn't even considered that the guy might not be able to take care of himself. No, he'd just left Cas at Bobby's and ran off to work a case with Sam. Yeah, okay, so Ellen had almost pushed him out the door, but Dean hadn't exactly put up much of a fight… and now? Now he was torn between trying to help Cas and trying not to wind up with the Impala wrapped around a telephone pole or crashed in a ditch somewhere. It was a long-ass drive back to Bobby's, and Sam was right: they were both exhausted. The adrenaline from their fight with Paris Hilton had worn off pretty soon after he'd parked at the hospital, and now Dean was really starting to feel his injuries. Leshii had packed one hell of a punch, and to be honest, it hadn't been a fight as much as it had been Dean getting his ass kicked by someone in a fancy dress and heels. Point is, he had started to feel the bruises and the aches, and he knew Sam was right. He knew it, and he hated it. Still, there was one fact that he just couldn't get around or talk himself into ignoring.

Dean bit the inside of his cheek and looked over at Sam. "It's Cas." He said it more quietly this time, but with no less conviction.

Sam wet his lips and gave Dean his patent 'I'm-trying-very-hard-to-be-reasonable-so-don't-bite-my-head-off' face. "Dean, he isn't Cas. Not our Cas. Not really."

Rather than answer right away, Dean shook his head and started putting on the clean layers he'd grabbed. Once he was dressed, he fisted his hands in the dirt-and-blood-smeared clothes he'd tossed onto the bed and stuffed them into his duffel. Before he zipped the bag shut, Dean stared at the dingy motel bedspread for a few extra moments. "Sam, I just… I need to help him. Please man. I've gotta do this."

For a moment, it looked like Sam wanted to keep arguing, but then something passed over his face and he nodded. "Okay. Okay…" Sam ran a hand through his hair, nodding again. "Want me to settle up with the front desk after I've packed?"

Dean felt himself start to breathe again and gave a half-hearted smile. "Sounds good. I'll load up and make sure we didn't leave anything behind." Sam smiled back at him, then headed over to pack his own things away. Dean watched his giant of a baby brother for a few moments, trying to figure out what to even say. Finally, he settled on something simple. "And Sammy?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks, for backing my play."

Sam grinned at him. "Well, you backed mine."

Dean really smiled at that and went into the bathroom to grab his shaving kit.

It took next to no time for them to pack up. They always traveled light, and they didn't really spread their stuff around the room. Dirty clothes always went back into the duffels – Dean's shoved in messily, while Sam kept an old plastic shopping bag and used that to keep his dirty clothes separate from his clean stuff – and aside from their shaving kits and weapons, there wasn't much that they left lying around.

Sam was on his way out of the room when he paused by the door and turned to Dean with a cheeky smile. "Y'know, I can't remember the last time you actually said 'please' to me."

Dean hefted his bag onto one shoulder and huffed. "C'mon, Sam. I say it all the time."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you use it sarcastically, but 'please' as in politely asking me for something? That's… new."

Dean rolled his eyes, not really all that annoyed but not wanting to dwell on it, either. "Shut up, Sammy."

Sam checked them out of the motel while Dean loaded up the car and did a final check of the room, making sure that they hadn't left anything by mistake. They met back up at the car half an hour later, and after clearing the air and agreeing to a fresh start, they were on the road, cranking Jeff Beck's version of 'Superstition' and hauling ass to Sioux Falls.

They took turns driving. Dean had handed over the keys to the Impala as a part of their agreement to a fresh start on equal terms, and Sam was fine with that. Dean ended up sleeping for a solid six hours, only waking up when they were just outside Chicago, and he really wasn't happy that Sam had let him sleep so long. They switched, Dean sliding behind the wheel and flooring it while Sam bunked down in the passenger seat. Sam managed to sleep for about four hours after that, but he woke up around La Crosse, Wisconsin, and complained that he couldn't get back to sleep while Dean was roaring along the highway and seeming to hit every bump and pothole in the road. They argued off and on for nearly an hour before Sam managed to convince Dean to switch off with him again around Austin, Minnesota, and Sam took the wheel for the last three hours. It was early afternoon the next day when they finally pulled into Bobby's.

The old hunter greeted them with a tired shake of his head. "Should be Dean that talks to him. Since me and Ellen are dead in the future he's from, and Sam here said yes to Lucifer, I don't think Cas'd welcome a visit from Dr. Satan. Probably wouldn't help matters."

Dean nodded. "Good call. So, where is our favorite fallen angel?"

Bobby jerked his thumb towards the stairs. "Right where you left him. Last room on the right, furthest from the landing. Good luck. The sumbitch is strong, and I didn't know angels used that kinda language. Guess you musta been a bad influence on 'im." Bobby shook his head and rolled back into the study.

When Dean got to the room, Cas was shifting uneasily on the bed and fitfully kicking at the mess of covers tangled around his feet. At some point when Cas was still somewhat aware, Ellen must have convinced him to get undressed, and now he was only wearing a threadbare t-shirt and a pair of faded green boxers. Dean had never seen Cas look so vulnerable before, and he only took a moment to decide that he didn't like it. Castiel was… well, according to the angel in one of their first conversations – back when Dean still didn't really believe in the whole angel thing – he'd always been a soldier. For millennia, maybe longer. Dean had seen Castiel fight, had almost broke his hand punching the guy, and now… seeing Castiel as a drugged-out, sex-addled post-apocalyptic hippie had been bad enough, but this was almost worse.

No.

It was definitely worse.

In the bad future, Cas's behavior had freaked him out, but at least then the guy had been upright and conscious. Now, Cas was shaking and sweating, and Dean couldn't be sure, but it sounded like he was muttering to himself. The greasy, too-long hair stuck up wildly in the back and chunks of it were plastered to his sweaty forehead. Just then, Cas didn't look even a little bit like an Angel of the Lord… in fact, if his hair wasn't so dark, he'd almost look like Shaggy from Scooby-Doo. Well, at least now he had another nickname for the guy.

Dean came the rest of the way into the room, fidgeting with the Solo cup of water in his hand. Ellen had handed him a large plastic cup and a plastic pitcher filled with water, explaining that Cas had knocked away and broken the fragile cups they'd tried to use earlier. Dean sat down on the edge of the bed, like he used to do when he was looking after Sammy, and reached over to nudge Cas' shoulder. "Hey, Cas. How are ya?"

Cas didn't bother to open his eyes. "I told you already, I feel like crap." A few moments went by, then Cas shifted and cracked one eye open, his face registering surprise. "Dean?"

The hunter forced a smile. "Yeah, I'm right here, buddy."

Cas seemed to relax and he took a deep breath. "What are you doing here?"

Dean held out the cup enough so that Cas would notice it, but made sure to keep it out of reach for the moment. "Well, right now I'm hopin' you'll drink some water."

Cas squinted at him, clearly suspicious, so Dean rolled his eyes and took a mouthful of the water. "See? Nothing funky in it. Now it's your turn."

After a moment's consideration, Cas nodded "Alright…" and started to reach for the water.

Dean patted his shoulder, holding Cas still. "Hold on, how about you sit up a little?"

Cas frowned up at him and whined. Actually whined. "But I'm thirsty."

Dean wanted to let it go, but he knew that most of the water would spill if Cas tried to drink it lying down. "Yeah, I know, but you gotta sit up for it so it won't slosh everywhere." The practical part of Dean's mind knew exactly what needed to happen in the situation, but he couldn't help laughing a little at the fact that he was having a conversation with Cas that he hadn't had with anyone since Sammy was little.

"It's not funny, Dean." Cas was… yeah, there was no other word for it. The fallen angel was pouting at him. Like a five year-old.

It wasn't funny. It was frigging hysterical.

Dean tried to get himself under control, and managed to fight back a smile. "Sorry, Cas, but you acting like a little kid who doesn't wanna eat his veggies but wants cake? Yeah, that's kinda funny."

A very un-angelic snort was Cas' response. "You never eat vegetables, just pie. And bacon cheeseburgers."

Dean bit the inside of his cheek, still trying to keep himself from laughing. He put the water down and started hunting for another pillow or something they could use to prop Cas up with. He liked this Cas. Dude still had no filter, but that was part of the fun. Hell, it was a big part of why Dean had started trusting Cas when that bullshit with Samhain went down last year. Not holding anything back meant that he wasn't hiding anything… wasn't lying or trying to manipulate them.

"Yeah, but you're not me. I thrive on crap food. You've gotta let me take care of you, man. Now come on. You can't have your pudding if you don't eat your meat."

This time Cas answered with a grunt. Dean shook his head, then spotted a pillow by the window. "Well, let's do this." He put the water down on the bedside table, took the pillow in one hand, Cas's arm in the other, and started tugging the ex-angel upright. "C'mon, help me out, here."

Cas pushed himself up just enough to let Dean jam the pillow under his shoulders. "Since when do you like Pink Floyd?"

Deciding that the pillow didn't help enough, Dean sat down next to him and tugged at Cas' arm until Cas was sitting up against the headboard. "Since whenever." He held out the cup and nudged Cas. "Okay, here's your water."

It took a little longer than Dean expected, and a few dribbles ran down his chin, but Cas drank all the water. Once he was done, Dean put the cup back on the bedside table. When he looked back at Cas, he saw that the former angel's head had listed to one side and sunk into the pillow, and his eyes had slid mostly shut. "They tried to trick me…" he mumbled into his pillow, "pretended to be our friends, but I wasn't fooled. All our friends are dead. You told me that."

Dean got up and worked at the covers until he'd managed to untangle the sheet from the fallen angel's legs, then he tugged it up to cover most of Cas' chest. Dude was sweating way too much for blankets, but Dean needed to feel like he was doing something to help. "I was wrong, man. We do have friends, we've got us, right? And the people here… no one here is gonna hurt you. You're safe."

"They pretended to be Bobby…" Cas didn't seem to hear him. "I don't know who they were… what they wanted, but they won't get it from me."

Something twisted in Dean's gut at hearing how proud Cas sounded of himself, like he had held up under torture or something. Dean forced a smile, trying to sound reassuring, and realized that he didn't think that this particular clusterfuck was funny anymore. "Yeah, I know. You did good, Cas, but you're safe now." There was a bowl of water and a folded washcloth on the bedside table. Dean nodded to himself, glad that he could at least help get Cas's fever down and silently thanking Ellen for thinking of that. Dean dunked the cloth and squeezed it out before putting it on Cas' forehead.

"I'm right here, buddy, and I'm not goin' anywhere, okay? I'm gonna stay till you're doing better."

Cas nodded at that, then shifted to lean against Dean's side. Dean absolutely did not jump at the sudden touching, and Cas laughed. "I won't try anything… I feel much too crappy for us to have any real fun, but I just… hmm…" Cas rolled his shoulders and rested his head against Dean too, the damp washcloth falling down to the covers when he moved. "I'm glad you're here, Dean. I still feel like shit, but I'm glad you're here."

Dean held himself very very still, trying to be okay with the touching. He told himself that if it helped Cas relax enough to get some sleep, he could tough it out. Hell, he was glad he could help the guy, but that didn't make it less weird that a bizarro-future version of his best friend was cuddled up next to him and detoxing from god only knows how many drugs. Dean shook his head.

Way to make this all about you, Winchester.

When he'd asked Cas – his Cas – to save future Cas from Croats or demons or whatever, he hadn't really thought it through. The idea of Cas going out like that, dying as part of some half-assed diversion was something he just couldn't let happen, so yeah, he'd sent his Cas to pull Shaggy's ass out of the fire. But now what? Yeah, he cared about the guy, and felt weirdly responsible for him, but what the hell did they do now? He shook his head again. They'd figure it out. They always did. Until then, they'd just focus on what was in front of them, and what was in front of him right now was his friend; breathing and human and ten kinds of fucked up, but alive, and he was damn sure gonna take care of the guy.

Dean smiled, and after tamping down his qualms about it, he put his arm around Cas' shoulders. "Yeah, well… I'm glad you're here too, Shaggy."

"Stop calling me that," Cas grumbled but didn't move away. "I'm not a cartoon character."

Dean carefully put the damp washcloth back on Cas' forehead. "Yeah, you kinda are… and hey, now you get my dumb jokes, so that's kind of an upside. Plus, how do you get off calling me Fearless Leader? And if we're doin' Rocky and Bullwinkle, who are Boris and Natasha?"

Cas shifted his head against Dean's shoulder, trying to find a more comfortable position, and grumbled again, "You really are an ass sometimes."

He laughed at that. This Cas had clearly learned the Winchester method for expressing gratitude. "Y'know, an ass wouldn't stay with you and play nursemaid through the DTs." He adjusted the washcloth and let his hand drop to the covers, rolling his shoulders as he tried to get comfortable. Or as comfortable as he could be, sitting up against the headboard while Cas used him as a pillow. Dean shook his head and grabbed one of the pillows for himself, shifting just enough to jam the pillow behind his own head without dislodging Cas from his position. "You've gotta get some sleep, man. It'll help."

The fallen angel shook against him, and it took Dean a minute to realize that it was more than just muscle tremors. Cas was shaking his head over and over, his face set in a pained grimace. "I can't… I keep trying, but… it's been days. Please, Dean. I need something to take the edge off."

Well, he'd pretty much expected that. Junkies begging for a fix, all part of the drill, right? But Sam had done some googling – give that kid a research topic and there was no stopping him – and he'd found out that cold-turkey detox could be pretty dangerous without a doctor or other medical personnel who were trained to deal with it. The only experience Dean and Bobby had with it was when Sam was detoxing from the demon blood, and that wasn't what he'd call a blueprint for success.

According to Sam's research, some drugs helped, but it depended on what the junkie's drug of choice was… and using the word 'junkie' to describe Cas was just… Dean hated it. He HATED that it was true. He'd told Sam about the amphetamines, and Sam came up with antidepressants as something that might help, and benzos were supposed to help with the worst of the DTs, but it was easy to get hooked on them, too, so they'd be playing Russian roulette with Cas' sobriety, and they didn't even know what else he'd been on.

Awesome.

He patted Cas' far shoulder and let out a reluctant sigh. "Okay, okay. You're gonna have to tell me what you took so I'll know what will help you, but I'm not gettin' you booze or anything hard. See if you can make it through a few more hours without taking anything, and then if it doesn't get better I'll try to find something to help… there's gotta be something we can lift from the hospital… but only if you really can't sleep."

Cas curled closer to his side, grabbing Dean's shirt with a white-knuckled fist and pleading with him, "Dean, please…"

Christ, the puppy eyes. Did Sam teach him how to do that?

Dean sighed, hugging Cas a little closer only because it was really all he could do just then. "If you were full human, I'd be more worried about the whole at-home detox, 'cause I know it's risky… but you're a tough son of a bitch, Cas, always have been, and you're gonna come out the other side of this okay. You got that?"

Cas gave an uncertain nod, and Dean took that as encouragement to go on, "I'm gonna help you as much as I can, but you gotta promise me that you're gonna try."

Cas swallowed and nodded again. "I promise."

Dean let out a breath which he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Good, and I'm gonna get you what you need. Not what you want, Cas, what you need to help you get through this."

The ex-angel's eyes slid shut. "The Rolling Stones are better than Pink Floyd." Cas gripped his shirt tighter, and Dean sighed.

"Yeah they are." Since Cas was holding onto him like a lifeline, he probably wouldn't be able to go anywhere anytime soon. That was okay, though. He was beat, and he didn't have anywhere else to be.

Dean was glad that he'd put the water pitcher right there on the table, in case either of them got thirsty, but he sure hoped that Ellen would bring up some food for him before too long. He let his eyes close. It had been a long drive stressing about Shaggy – yeah, they were totally keeping that nickname – and before that it had been a tense case, working with Sam again after everything and hashing things out, so now that he was here, and he could see for himself how his friend was doing, he figured that he could let himself relax a little.

Sam glanced at the front hallway, frowning. Dean had been upstairs for a while. There hadn't been any shouting coming from up there – which was good – but when he thought about it, Sam remembered that Dean had always been good at looking after him when he'd been sick growing up. Still, it wasn't the lack of raised voices that had him worried. Dean tended to pace when he was stressed and cooped up, but the floorboards weren't creaking. It was silent, and unless they were in the middle of a hunt, silence from his brother had never been reassuring.

Sam went upstairs to check on his brother.

And then he backed out of the room and went right back downstairs, trying to make sense of what he'd just seen.

When he had walked into the room, Dean and Cas were side by side on the bed, slumped against the headboard and both fast asleep. Dean's arm was around Cas's shoulders, and it looked like Cas was using Dean's chest as a pillow. Cas had moved fitfully when the floorboards creaked under Sam's weight, but then he'd settled again, making a quiet, happy sound as he let his cheek rest on the sleeping Winchester.

Halfway down the stairs, Sam reconsidered and went back to the upstairs hallway. This wasn't a conversation that he wanted Bobby or Ellen to overhear. He closed his eyes and turned his face upwards, to the ceiling.

"Castiel, we uh… we need some help taking care of future… you, so if you could just-"

There was a sudden gust of air and the sound of feathers rustling. "I'm here, Sam. What do you need?"

Sam rubbed uneasily at the back of his neck. "Do you know why future you would want to, um, cuddle with Dean?"

Castiel seemed confused. "I'm not certain. Angels are not physical beings, and as such we don't crave touch or physical intimacy as humans understand it. However, as part of the heavenly host, our celestial energy does harmonize with that of our brothers and sisters, and if my future self was cut off from his family and limited to the corporeal sphere in such a way, he would likely try to achieve closeness with individuals he trusted, in order to fill that void."

"But… that doesn't mean orgies, does it?"

Castiel just blinked, his face registering incredulity. "My future self… participated in orgies?"

"Yeah, and I just walked in on future-you cuddled up in bed with Dean, using my brother's chest as a pillow. And, uh..." he ran a hand through his hair, still not sure what to make of this next tidbit of information. "Apparently your future self said some things to Bobby and Ellen which gave them the impression that there's something going on with him and Dean, too." Sam frowned. "Or I think there is. Or was, in that future… or will be." Sam shook his head. Time travel made language tenses very confusing. "I dunno. Either way, I wasn't expecting to see them sleeping together."

Castiel gave a thoughtful frown. "Dean and I do share a profound bond, but I'm not sure what would be 'going on'. As far as I know, Dean has never shown any interest in pursuing a sexual relationship with a male, and as my future self still possesses a male vessel, that would seem to preclude any sort of relations."

Sam nodded. That cleared some things up… and made a few murkier. "Would you?"

Castiel squinted at him, a mixture of curiosity and mild annoyance on his face. "Would I what?"

"If Dean wanted to, you know…" he grimaced, then shook his head. Not because he was judging or anything, but because the whole concept was just plain weird. Mainly because Dean had always been straight. Not just straight, but aggressively straight. Also, it really wasn't his business, and he was damn sure that Dean would be beyond pissed off to find out that this subject had even seen the light of day. "Nevermind."

Sam combed one hand through his hair, glancing towards the room where his brother and the ex-angel were passed out in bed together.

Yes, he'd been surprised to see Dean tangled up in bed with Cas, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that it shouldn't have been so surprising. It's not like he was blind. He'd noticed the connection or whatever it was between his brother and Castiel, not to mention how weirdly loyal Dean and Cas were to each other, despite the fact that they'd only known the angel for a year. Then there was the staring thing they did. He wasn't sure when the staring had started, but it was always intense… sometimes to the point where Sam felt like he was intruding just by being in the room with them. Actually, the only weird part was that Dean had wound up in bed with Future-Cas instead of their Castiel, but even that made a kind of sense. After all, Cas was messed up and Dean had always been good at taking care of the people who were important to him. True, he was usually gruff about it and cuddling didn't tend to be involved, but it made sense that Dean would want to help the guy. Castiel didn't seem to need Dean's help, but Future-Cas clearly did.

Sam shook his head. He should know better than to try and emotionally analyze his brother. Or the angel, for that matter. He didn't know if Castiel felt things the same way that humans did, or if he experienced connection in a different way altogether.

However, he was certain of two things: First, that neither one of them was ready to talk about whatever was – or wasn't – going on between the two of them. Not now, and maybe not ever. And second, there were definitely some kind of non-platonic feelings between Dean and Castiel, but he had no idea whether they'd figure it out, act on instinct or just keep circling each other indefinitely. Between Dean's non-existent emotional self-awareness, and Castiel's single-mindedness on the task at hand, there was a good chance that they might never actually figure out that whatever feelings they had were mutual.

"I'm just wondering… I mean, you're cut off from the Heavenly host, so going by what you just said…"

Castiel almost rolled his eyes. Almost. "Sam, I thought that you called me here because you needed help."

"Yeah…" Sam cleared his throat, but he realized that Castiel hadn't actually answered his questions. The angel had managed to dodge them altogether. Sam noticed the wording Castiel had used. He hadn't said that he wasn't interested in Dean, just that he had assumed Dean to be uninterested due to Jimmy being a male vessel. Sam wasn't sure why Castiel would want to be evasive, but he had a few ideas. After all, if Sam ever tried to bring up this topic with Dean, he was pretty damn sure that his brother would either laugh it off or find some way to re-direct the conversation.

"I need to swipe some stuff from a hospital, but it can't be local, since the sheriff here might connect it to Bobby. Can you wing us to a hospital somewhere else? We need the stuff before your future self wakes up, so taking hours to drive there and then back is out."

"Of course, Sam. We can leave immediately." Without any further warning, Castiel touched two fingers to Sam's forehead and zapped them out of the hallway.

Sam had just enough time to be annoyed with the angel's abruptness before he found himself someplace which definitely wasn't anywhere near South Dakota.

Chapter Text

Dean woke up a few hours later and managed to untangle himself from the detoxing ex-angel. After he'd gotten out of bed, Dean made sure that his friend was still asleep, then he checked on the fallen angel's temperature. It wasn't as bad as it had been, but dude was still a little clammy, and he'd started shivering, so Dean unfolded a blanket from the foot of the bed. First he tugged the sheet up to cover Shaggy's chest better, and then he spread the blanket over the fallen angel to make sure that he wouldn't get too cold.

The bedroom's overhead light was still off, but someone had turned the hallway light on and left the door open part way, allowing some light to spill into the room so he could see well enough to move around. The same someone – he guessed it had been Ellen – had also put his duffel bag on a chair just inside the doorway. He shrugged out of his button-down and tossed it over the back of the chair, then rooted around in his bag for something more comfortable, ultimately choosing an old pair of sweatpants that weren't too ratty, a clean pair of underwear and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt he'd had for what seemed like forever. He left the room as quietly as possible, wary of waking the guy up, then closed the door behind himself and headed for the bathroom to shower and change.

By the time he'd cleaned up, dried off and stepped out of the bathroom wearing the closest thing that he ever wore to pajamas, the upstairs hallway smelled like chili. Damn, he'd forgotten how much he'd always liked staying here when he and Sammy were little. A real house, home-cooked meals, and best of all, Bobby cursing a blue streak in the kitchen. He got to the landing and went down the stairs, smiling and shaking his head at the argument that he could already overhear.

"You're not addin' ginger to my chili!"

"Bobby Singer, it won't kill you to try something new. Nobody at the Roadhouse ever complained about my chili, and I used ginger all the time."

Bobby grumbled, and Dean could tell from the squeak of chair wheels that he was trying to move quickly across the linoleum floor. Of course, Bobby couldn't reach the stove from his chair, which was probably driving him insane, and now with Ellen trying to change the recipe, he was probably closer to boiling over than the chili was.

The old, grumpy hunter ground out, using his special 'I've got no more patience left' voice, "that's 'cause most of the hunters that ate there were drunks who didn't know a damn thing about cooking. Leave it alone and follow the damn recipe!"

Dean looked into the kitchen, grinning at the novelty of such a domestic argument happening between two seasoned hunters, but he didn't go in. He was hungry and wanted to taste what they were making, but not hungry enough to risk getting caught in the crossfire.

"I don't remember you having any problems with my food, until now."

"That was your food in your kitchen. I never tried to go back and tell your cooks how to make their own damn recipes! This is my house, Ellen, and I won't have you screwin' with my chili."

Ellen threw one hand up in the air, then used it to point a wooden spoon at her adversary while her other hand remained planted at her hip. "You listen to me, you stubborn jackass, and you listen good. I'm not changing your precious recipe for kicks. Every time I had a hunter come into my roadhouse torn up and I knew there was a good chance they'd start having the shakes before too long, I always made them this chili. The ginger helped settle their stomach, and I'm not sure what it is about the other spices, but if I make it just right, it helps them sweat more of that crap outta their systems. It's medicinal, a helluva lot more medicinal than your Wild Turkey, so just shut it and let me get to cooking!"

Bobby seemed chastened and he rolled towards the fridge, grumbling, "Well, you coulda said that in the first place. Damn stubborn woman…"

Ellen leaned away from the stove and swatted his shoulder with one hand. "I heard that."

The conflict seemed to have ended, or at least there was a lull, so Dean joined them in the kitchen. "I miss anything? I mean, other than the great Chili War of '09."

Bobby grunted, grabbing himself a beer… which Ellen promptly snatched out of his hand, opened, and started drinking herself. Bobby grabbed it back and glared at her. She just smiled, shaking her head as he rolled off into the study. "Nothing much. I found every bottle of booze that he keeps hidden on the ground floor and put everything except the beer out of his reach."

Dean looked after Bobby, eyes wide and shaking his head. "You hid his whiskey? Jesus, Ellen. No wonder he's in such a bad mood."

Ellen grinned and went back to grating a ginger root for the chili. "Yep, I'm kicking his ass back to health and happiness, whether he likes it or not. How about you, sweetie? How's that angel of yours doin'?"

Dean shook his head again. "Dude's in rough shape, but I got him to calm down and drink some of that water, and he's been sleeping for the past couple hours."

She nodded and wiped her hands off on a small towel. "Good. If we can get him through the next few days, he should be alright. We just need to make sure that he eats something, sleeps and drinks plenty of water." She shook her head, still looking worried.

Dean frowned. "And? I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop."

Ellen shrugged, glancing at him but turning away before he could get a good look at her face. "Just, some of the things he was saying. That future he came from… it was bad, wasn't it?"

He leaned against the counter. "Beyond bad. We're talking full zombie apocalypse, the angels gave up and left, Sam let Lucifer wear him to the prom, and I dunno how it went down, but Bobby got shot here."

Ellen turned around at the last part, her eyes wide. "What?"

"Yeah." Dean tried not to cringe, remembering what Bobby's place had looked like. "The house was still here and it didn't look like there'd been a fight… more like Bobby just rolled out one day and decided not to come back, but the door was unlocked and Bobby's chair was empty and tipped over…" He closed his eyes and steeled himself to say the next bit. "There were three bloody bullet holes in the back of his wheelchair, right around chest level on the left side. Tight grouping, too, so whoever did the shooting knew their way around a gun. I didn't smell a body, and I don't know what happened, but smart money is on something bad."

She gave him a steady look. "That's how I'd bet." They were both quiet for nearly a minute, neither one of them happy to be thinking about Bobby getting shot to death in the future… even if it was only a possible future.

Eventually, the silence was broken when Dean's stomach rumbled loudly. Ellen shook her head with a fond smile and stirred the chili. "You hungry, sweetie? I could put some of this in a bowl, if you want. It's almost ready."

Dean took a good whiff off the stew pot. The chili smelled good. Not like what he was used to, but really friggin' good, and he was starved. "Yeah, that sounds great."

Ellen beamed at him and grabbed a bowl from the cabinet. "I can't add the ginger to the main pot just yet, gonna let it cook for a few more hours, so I've just gotta put enough for you and me in a smaller pan, and then add the ginger to that." She shrugged. "Ginger's not supposed to go in till just before it's served, but I usually don't do that. I just put it in last, after the whole thing's been cookin' for an hour or two and then let the pot simmer for two more hours, but this chili's still pretty young. Don't wanna add the ginger to the main batch too soon."

She stepped to the fridge and got out two eggs, which she quickly cracked over a bowl and beat with a fork. Ellen stirred some salt, pepper and onion powder into the eggs, then poured them onto a hot, greased skillet which already had bacon sizzling on it.

Dean grinned to himself. Eggs, bacon and chili? He could definitely get used to this after a hunt. He took a seat at the kitchen table… which, wonder of wonders, actually looked like a kitchen table. Bobby's phones, computer and other hunting paraphernalia had been moved to a small desk which butted up against the wall across from the stove, and the kitchen table was given pride of place in the middle of the room. It was weird, seeing the place look so domestic. Good, but weird.

He was still looking around, trying to see what other changes Ellen had managed to make, when something occurred to him. "Where's Sam?"

Ellen shrugged. "Dunno. He went upstairs to check on you a while back, but I haven't seen him. Could be he's bunked down in one of the bedrooms." She shook her head. "You'd never know that Bobby had three bedrooms hidden away up there. He just let this place go to seed…"

Dean got up and grabbed himself a glass of water. "I guess…" He drank about half the water and then fiddled with the glass in his hand. Dean kept his voice low and stepped closer to Ellen to make sure his words wouldn't carry out to the library. "Well, it's not like he can climb the stairs anymore." He wanted to defend Bobby, but didn't want Bobby to hear him doing it.

She patted his shoulder and handed him a plate with toast, the scrambled eggs and some bacon. "Yeah, well, I got a room squared away for myself up there, and one for Cas. Haven't gotten started on the third one yet or the bathroom, really, but it could be Sam's camped out up there. You boys came straight here off a case, didn't you? And it was a long drive. Wouldn't be surprised if your brother needed to get some sleep."

He sat back down, staring at his plate and trying very, very hard to pay attention to what Ellen was saying.

No dice. Dean couldn't hear her. The bacon and egg smelled too good.

He wolfed down the breakfast, his eyes rolling back in his head as the perfectly warm egg and crispy meat seized his full attention. God. Food. He didn't realize just how hungry he was till he started eating.

There was a fond chuckle from somewhere nearby, but Dean didn't care, because bacon.

Once he'd cleared his plate, Dean sat back in his chair with a contented groan. He still had enough room to eat a bowl of chili, but his stomach was happy for the moment; not howling for more food, and not overstuffed. Just right… He smiled, remembering the fairytale case that he'd worked with Sam a couple years ago, with Hansel, Gretel and the three little pigs. Cinderella and Little Red Riding Hood had been there too, but no Goldilocks. Just as well, too, since the bears probably would have eaten her.

"Ellen, dunno if I've mentioned this, but thanks. Not just for the food, but for coming to help us with Cas."

She gave him a warm smile and ran an affectionate hand over his hair. "No problem, sweetie."

Dean felt himself melting a little at how maternal Ellen was being, and cleared his throat, feeling guilty for enjoying it so much and trying to shake that off. "Yeah, I'm sure Sammy's catching some zzz's. He doesn't show up soon, though, I'm gonna call him, or go looking."

Ellen joined him at the table, with a bowl of chili for him and once for herself. She smiled at him and pushed a spoon across for Dean, but let her hand rest on his arm for a moment. "It really is sweet, the way you look after him, but he's not a little kid anymore, Dean. Looking out for him on a hunt is one thing, but he's a grown man. He can take care of himself, and it's safe here."

"Yeah, I know. I just…" he shrugged. "Old habits. I know he isn't a little kid, but he'll always be my kid brother."

Ellen dug into her own stew. "I know what you mean. Jo's a grown woman and a good hunter to boot, but she's still my little girl. Now eat up."

"Yes ma'am."

She threw a napkin at his face and gave him a fond glare. "Shut up, kiddo."

An hour later, Dean was hip-deep in lore books. He and Bobby were in the library, going over what they had on Raphael, Michael and Lucifer, when the front door opened and Sam came walking in. Dean left his book open on the desk and met Sam by the stairs. Bobby muttered something that sounded like 'here we go again,' and rolled himself towards the kitchen.

"Where have you been?"

Sam sighed. "Turkey."

Dean blinked, trying to understand. "You… what? Went out to get turkey? Dude, I know you have a thing about Thanksgiving, but-"

Sam cut him off with a laugh. "I told Cas we had to go out of town to get the meds, so he took me to Istanbul. It was nice, actually. Not, y'know, helpful, since the prescription pads and medicine labels they had weren't in English, but it was nice. Cool architecture. If we had more time, I would've liked to check out Hagia Sophia."

Dean shook his head, smiling. "When we get a breather, we should really book ourselves an Angel Airways flight. Somewhere warm."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah. How about Tahiti? I hear it's a magical place."

Dean hesitated, remembering the last time Castiel had zapped him somewhere… or rather, what hadn't happened for a week afterwards. "Hey, so long as you don't spend the next week stopped up, we're on."

Sam blinked at him, clearly confused. "What does-?"

Dean cut him off with a shrug, "side effects, dude. Regular planes, your ears pop at altitude or whatever, but on Angel Airways, it's a whole other story." He moved to lean against the doorway. "So, did you get the stuff?"

Sam held up a few bottles and shook them so Dean could hear the pills rattling inside. "Diazepam and Desipramine for our friend upstairs. Taking these together will probably make him sleepy, and he might have some other problems, but since you've said that he's having trouble sleeping, I'm thinking it's worth some of the other side effects. We'll start him at 10mg of the Desipramine, and bump up the dosage until it starts to work. Same drill for the valium, starting at 2mg with grapefruit juice every 8 hours. Dunno why, but the juice is supposed to give it more of a kick. That should do the trick for his DTs, and we can up it to 5mg if he really needs it, but we shouldn't give him more than 10mg at a time. I almost got buprenorphine, too, because it's used to treat opioid addiction, but we really shouldn't give him that with the valium or the Desip. They don't mix well."

Dean gave him a mock salute. "Thank you, doctor Winchester."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Doctor Zhivago, actually."

"Dude, seriously?"

Sam gave a helpless shrug. "Couldn't think of anything, so I said it as a joke, but the pharmacist was too busy playing Angry Birds on his phone to give a rat's ass and he just went with it. I also got some Prozac, since one of the long-term effects of coming off stimulants is depression. He'll have to be on it for a month before it starts working, so we'll start him on it now, and once we hit that mark, we'll switch him off of everything but the Prozac."

"Can't we just keep him on the first one you got?"

Sam shook his head. "Prozac is safer, fewer side-effects, but since it takes a month to kick in…"

"You had to find something else that'd work till then. Good call." Dean shook his head, smiling. "You sure you were pre-law, not pre-med?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Shut up and go take care of your angel."

"He's not my-"

Sam just headed for the kitchen, "Yeah, whatever."

Dean glowered at his brother's back, then smiled as he heard Bobby and Ellen gearing up for round three of the War of the Chili.

"You hide all my booze, but you bring tequila into the house and use that in the chili?! Just what are you usin' to think with, Ellen, 'cause it sure ain't your brain!"

Dean chuckled to himself and headed for the stairs. He was more than a little comforted to know that Sammy was walking into one hell of an argument, and he damn sure wasn't gonna warn the kid.

Chapter Text

Dean went back upstairs carrying a cup and a pitcher. The pill bottles were jammed into his pockets. He didn't want Cas to be taking those without supervision, so he damn sure wasn't gonna leave the bottles lying around. He nudged the bedroom door open with his elbow and was met with a grumble.

"Mmmpfh. 'M thirsty."

He rolled his eyes. "Hold on, Shaggy."

"Stop calling me that." Cas pouted up at him. Not glared. Pouted, and it was all Dean could do to stop himself from busting out laughing.

"Nope. I've gotta distinguish between future-you and now-you somehow, and since you're all shaggy…" Dean ruffled a hand through the fallen angel's hair to illustrate his point, "This is how I'm doin' it. Now drink up."

Instead of straight water, the pitcher was full of watered-down gatorade, and Ellen had pushed a protein shake, some toast and a bowl of fruit at him. Ellen and Sam had insisted that they try to get some kind of nourishment into Shaggy, and aside from burgers, they had no idea what the guy even liked to eat. They figured that toast and fruit were a safe bet, and dude needed some protein. Even if he didn't want to eat any of it, they could always tell him that he couldn't take the pills on an empty stomach. He'd figure out the truth soon enough, but for now, the white lie would be useful.

"Oh, here. I got something for ya." Dean turned away and fished one pill out of each bottle. He squinted and saw that Sam had broken all of the benzos in half, which was actually a really freaking good idea. The lower dose might not help Shaggy as much, but it reduced the chances of him getting hooked.

Shaggy's eyes lit up. "Are those…?"

Dean grinned. "Pharm-fresh pills just for you, buddy. There are instructions on the bottles, but I'm gonna be the one doling them out, okay? And I'm only gonna be giving you enough benzos to help you through the next week or so, 'cause the last thing we need is getting you hooked on something new, and after that we'll be sticking to antidepressants unless you decide you don't need 'em anymore."

Shaggy nodded his understanding and held his hand out, his eyes riveted on the bottles in Dean's hand. Dean tried to ignore how damn happy the fallen angel looked at the prospect of downing a fistfull of pills, and the hunter reminded himself that it was medicine, not drugs.

He opened the protein shake that Sam had picked up at the pharmacy and handed it over before giving up the pills. "Here, take'em with this." A few gulps later, Shaggy sat back against the scrunched-up pillows and closed his eyes.

"You're not supposed to take these on an empty stomach, so you've gotta drink the rest of that stuff," he nodded at the shake that the former angel had already downed some of. Shaggy was looking at him suspiciously, so Dean put on his best charming smile and nodded at the rest of the food. "And you should chase it with some of the fruit Ellen sent up for you."

His charm was clearly on the fritz, because Shaggy just rolled his eyes and settled further into the mound of pillows. "M'not hungry, Dean."

"Sorry, man. Doctor's orders. If you want any more of those pills, you're gonna have to eat."

Cas opened one baleful eye, grumbled, and closed it again. "Or what?"

Dean sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Man, I'm not threatening you. I just want to get you healthy, and that means you've gotta eat so you can get your strength back." The ex-angel only grunted, so Dean nudged him. "I know you're not gonna be hungry for a while, but that's just the drugs washing outta your system, and you've just gotta wait for it to blow over. I'm not gonna force feed you, but I'm sure as hell not gonna sit here and watch you starve, so eat the damn fruit."

He took a few breaths, trying to calm himself down. Barking orders was the last thing he wanted to do just then. Besides, he realized that he was starting to sound like the future version of himself, and Dean had sworn that he would never become that guy. After he'd gotten his zen on, Dean reached out and shook Shaggy's shoulder. "Hey, it isn't all gonna be fruit crap and toast. That's just what we had here, and I'll get you better stuff after this, okay? Stuff you'll like. I'll even go on a burger run if you want, later, but first you've gotta eat some of this."

Shaggy cracked his eyes open and blinked sullenly at the fruit. "I'm not eating all of it."

"Okay," Dean grabbed a piece of… something. He didn't know what kind of fruit it was. It was green, and he popped a cube of it into his mouth. "I'll have some too. So long as we empty at least half the plate, Ellen'll be happy."

Shaggy grumbled but picked up a strawberry. They managed to finish off most of the fruit – Dean hadn't realized how much of it was stuff he liked – and then after some more cajoling, Shaggy polished off the protein shake, too. Once that was done, he dutifully capped the empty container and put it aside.

Dean was surprised to see that Shaggy was side-eyeing him. "Did you eat?"

"Yeah. Ellen and-" he cut himself off, remembering that Bobby was dead in the future Shaggy was from, and he wasn't sure how out of it the ex-angel was at the moment.

His answer was a tired sigh. "I remember where I am, Dean, and what year it is. I know we're at Bobby's house and that he and Ellen have been trying to take care of me."

Dean gave a half-smile. "Yeah, but it took my magic touch to calm you down."

Shaggy smirked, but seemed to decide not to take that thought in an R-rated direction. When he did say something, it wasn't what Dean expected. "I'm glad you came, Dean. Didn't think you would… thought you'd left me again, but you came when I needed you."

Dean held back a groan.

Great.

Feelings.

His favorite.

Dean decided to nut-up and just be honest. "Yeah, well… you'd do the same for me."

Shaggy smiled at that. "So, what did Ellen make for dinner?"

Sweet, blessed subject-change. "Eggs, bacon and chili. Bobby worked on it too. Sounds like they've been fighting over spices for hours, and whether it's better to add whiskey or tequila to the mix. I got outta there before they could drag me into it, but Sam wasn't so lucky."

The ex-angel laughed a little and shifted against the pillows piled at the head of the bed, moving until he was semi-reclined against them. His eyes had closed at some point, and Dean noticed how slow and deep his breathing had become.

"How you doin', Cas?"

Shaggy nodded to himself, "I'mkay." He blinked heavily and nestled his head further into the pillows. "Sleepy."

Dean felt something loosen in his chest. "That's great." He put the washcloth back on Shaggy's head and tucked the blanket around him. "You just get some shuteye."

"Thank you, Dean."

"You're welcome, buddy."

Shaggy hummed quietly to himself and curled into Dean's side like he'd done earlier, letting his head tilt to rest on the hunter's shoulder and completely ignoring the pillows.

Dean shifted, not entirely comfortable with the cuddling. He'd put up with it earlier, figuring it might help Shaggy get the sleep he needed, but Dean didn't want to encourage the guy, or have it become a habit. "Hey, why don't you use the pillow?"

Shaggy blinked up at him sleepily, a look of confusion settling on his face. "Why would I do that? This is how we always go to sleep."

Dean pulled back, trying to understand what he'd just heard. "Wait, what are you talking about? We've never done this."

Shaggy's eyes slid shut and he grumbled. "Right, I forgot that you don't know about us."

He didn't want to believe what he was hearing. Sure, he cared about Cas. Hell, the guy was his best friend – emphasis on friend – but it sounded like Shaggy was saying something else altogether. "'Us'? There's no us, man."

A tired shrug and Shaggy settled himself on the pillows, curling up like a large cat. "There was… or will be. In my future."

"What? No!" Dean shook his head, shifting away from him on the bed. "There's no way that would happen."

Shaggy flinched further away from his angry outburst, and Dean scrubbed a hand over his face, feeling like the world's biggest dick. Dude was sick, and the last thing he needed, hell, the last thing Dean wanted to do, was yell at him. It just… yeah, he knew that things had gotten weird between Shaggy and future Dean, but he didn't know why, and he sure as hell hadn't expected Shaggy to just come right out and say that they'd been together. That was a little too much for him to handle just then. Sure, he'd man up and do almost anything to help out his friend, but that was all they were: best friends. And as far as he was concerned, that was all they'd ever be.

"I thought future-me was screwing around with Risa or whatever that other chick's name was? Man, you were getting ready to have an orgy, and you're gonna sit there and tell me we were together? And I'm not into dudes, so how does that make any sense?"

Shaggy blinked at him. "Well, the apocalypse made you not care about a lot of things. Hygiene, manners and human lives were some of them. Whatever other people thought about who you fucked was another."

"Well, I'm not a Dean who's okay with that, so you just… don't get any ideas. And don't get handsy."

"I promise, Dean. I won't touch you in any way that you wouldn't feel comfortable touching Sam."

Dean felt himself start to breathe again. "Okay. Good. Good talk."

If it was what Shaggy needed to get through his detox, Dean figured he could damn well tough out some man-cuddling and be there for his friend. Hell, future-Dean had been such a dick to the guy, Dean figured it was the least he could do. Not that the idea of him and Cas being a thing in the future didn't freak him out, because it did, but he wasn't about to let that get in the way of taking care of his friend… so long as Shaggy didn't try anything.

A quiet mumble from Shaggy pulled him out of his thoughts. "Why are you doing this?"

Wasn't it obvious? Cas was his best friend. Hell, the guy was family, almost a second brother. Another weird, nerdy brother… but with wings. Well, this Cas didn't have wings anymore, but… Dean shook his head. He really should be used to being part of a screwed up family by this point, but trying to wrap his head around the two-Cas situation still occasionally threw him.

"Because you're family. And, hey, how many times have you saved my ass? 'Raised me from Perdition' and all that crap?"

Shaggy frowned into the pillow, finally letting out a half-muffled, "So… now you're watching over me?"

"Yeah, I am. I owe you, I care about you, and I want to make damn sure that you're gonna be okay, so I'm lookin' after you, and that's all there is to it."

Shaggy curled in close to Dean's side with a quiet sigh, "Mmmpff. Thanks."

Dean let his arm relax around Shaggy's shoulders. It seemed like that was the only way this Cas could get to sleep – by using Dean as a pillow – and Dean was surprised by how okay he was with it. Dude didn't smell bad, and he hadn't tried anything weird, like getting a case of wandering hands, but he was still a dude. That freakout was probably stuck in traffic somewhere, but Dean was sure that it was coming down the pike.

"So…" Dean had no friggin' clue how to ask this question, so he was just gonna go ahead and ask. "In the future, you and me… there's something going on there?"

Shaggy shifted against him. "There was, for a while… and then there wasn't." He made an unhappy sound. "We still… every once in awhile, but neither one of us is exclusive." The fallen angel let out a bitter chuckle that sounded completely wrong coming from any version of Cas. "The apocalypse isn't exactly good for fidelity. People pretty much play the field or go without, 'cause there's a decent chance that your partner will end up dead before too long, and being monogamous is a good way to go crazy… y'know, all that grief, over and over."

"Huh."

Dean turned that thought over. It made sense, but that didn't make it any less disturbing. What's-her-name dying was bound to sting a hell of a lot less than losing the love of your life, but there was a kind of… hardness to that fact which just didn't sit well with him. He really didn't like the idea of his future self sleeping around and treating their group at Camp Chitaqua as his personal harem. It had already horrified him that future-him had fed his… their… whatever friends and comrades in arms into a meat grinder for a frigging diversion, but if some of those people had also been his lovers? That was some next-level shit.

Shaggy huffed out a breath. "Hmm."

Dean frowned up at the ceiling. "What?"

The fallen angel shrugged. "I mean, you've never been the most open-minded person on the subject of sexual orientation. Guess I'm just… waiting for the inevitable gay-panic about you being with a dude, or lying in a bed with a dude that future you had a 'thing' with."

Dean grunted. "Yeah, well, so am I. Dunno why it hasn't happened yet." He glanced over at Shaggy. "Maybe you not being weird and grabby is part of it. I'm okay with this-" he gestured vaguely with his free arm, encompassing the covers and the way that Shaggy was curled up and using him as a teddy bear, "So long as you don't try to make anything happen. Besides, it's not like there are a lot of extra beds around here. My choices are pretty much bunk with you or sleep on the floor downstairs, and this way I get to sleep on a mattress and avoid Bobby's snoring and Sam farting in the middle of the night. Bobby snores like a chainsaw, and my kid brother is toxic for hours after he's had anything with cheese in it."

Shaggy gave a drowsy chuckle. "So I've heard."

Dean frowned. No one should sound that fond when they were talking about gigantor's death farts. Being stuck in the car with Sam after they ate burritos… yeah, that was one of those mistakes that you only make once, and he'd made sure that never happened again. Even made a rule for it: no burritos before we hit the road.

He wasn't sure why, but he tightened his arm around Shaggy's shoulders. "You weren't the one who called it quits, were you? Future me gave you the boot."

Shaggy took so long to reply that when he finally spoke, it took Dean by surprise. "Yeah."

Dean shook his head, unable to ignore the heartbroken tone in the ex-angel's voice. "I'm sorry about that, man. Really, that's just…" he let out an angry huff and tried to collect himself as he unwillingly put the pieces together. So, in the bad future, he and Cas had been together, and then at some point Future-Dean had broken Cas' heart, and even after that, Cas stuck around and kept taking Future-Dean's orders, helping out on missions and around the camp? That must have been rough… and hell, it might even be why Cas had started sleeping around, popping pills and drinking like a fucking fish. Sam mentioned something about the drinking and drugs being a way of self-medicating to deal with the apocalypse, but now Dean suspected that living in zombieland was only part of the reason.

"What? I like past you."

Small wonder, since the Dean from 2009 was one who Shaggy probably had fond memories of. It actually explained a lot, and now that he had a hunch about why the ex-angel was so screwed up and bitter, Dean found himself missing the mystery. He remembered how strained Future-Cas and Future-Dean's reactions had been, the attitude and sniping from Shaggy, and how dismissive Future-Dean was to his oldest friend.

"You saying my plan is reckless?"

"Are you saying we, uh, walk in straight up the driveway, past all the demons and the Croats, and we shoot the devil?"

"Yes."

"Okay, if you don't like, uh, 'reckless', I could use 'insouciant', maybe."

"Are you coming?"

"Of course."

Dean shook his head. Shaggy was all kinds of messed up, but he was loyal. Even with how much they didn't even seem to like each other anymore, which, to be honest, had been very confusing at the time, Shaggy was still willing to put his life in Future-Dean's hands.

"That's… I don't even know what to say, man. I'm just sorry that future-me was such a frigging dick."

Cas – he was having a harder time separating the two of them in his mind – gave a defeated-sounding sigh. "The apocalypse will do that to you." He let out a jaw-cracking yawn and tugged at the covers, just seeming so human that it was easy to forget all the Angel-of-the-Lord stuff. "I'm surprised you're talking about this."

Dean shook his head again and adjusted the washcloth on his angel's forehead. "Yeah, well, maybe I'm banking on you being too strung out and messed up to remember that we ever had this conversation."

Cas laughed, sounding bitter and resigned and reassured all at once. "Now, that's the Dean I know."

Dean let his eyes close. They'd been at Bobby's for less than a day, and it seemed like all he'd done during that time was look after Cas and sleep. He'd slept for most of the afternoon after they arrived – once he'd gotten Cas settled down – and now it was after dinner time, so he shouldn't still be tired, but he was. Well, Cas needed to sleep, and if he needed a Winchester-shaped teddy-bear to do it, Dean could deal. And if that meant that Dean could catch up on some of the doubtless thousands of hours of sleep-debt he'd racked up during the last decade of hunting, he guessed that wasn't too shabby, either.

He shifted in the bed, toeing off his socks and tugging at the pillows until he was comfortable. Once that was done, he grabbed a blanket from the foot of the bed and spread it over himself, leaving Cas under his own blanket in his t-shirt and boxers. Dude still had a fever, but it wasn't as bad as it had been, and if the ex-angel got cold, there were more blankets.

"Get some sleep, Cas. We'll work on savin' the world later."

Chapter Text

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 for him. She bought a green hooded sweatshirt with a cartoon dinosaur printed on the front, a pair of faded camouflage cargo pants which were his size, and a couple of tee-shirts 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 didn't like the idea.

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 bedframe. "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 from Jo 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. Dean smiled to himself. It was almost like watching someone open their Christmas presents. He shook his head. They probably hadn't celebrated Christmas 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 very comfortable."

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 tye 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."

Ellen offered to put the clothes in Cas' room, and he nodded again, seeming touched and slightly overwhelmed.

"Thank you, Ellen, but I'd like to try on the hoodie."

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 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.

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 in a folding chair. "Nope. No tax records for him after then, either."

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

"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 Dreamroot. 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 left the room. "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 that 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 reasoned that she'd only put the clothes in plain view 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. 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 footboard 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."