Wings Were Made To Fly

by Wolfcry22

Summary:

So, it turns out angels can get sick too. Castiel comes down from heaven after an outbreak of some strange angelic illness and Dean and Sam have to get him on the mend.

Bonus: There's wings

Notes:

Castiel is my all time favorite character on Supernatural. I love Sam and Dean too, but there’s something about Castiel that just makes him my favorite. I’m always hesitant to write him, though, because I want to make sure that I write him properly and capture the nuances that make the best angel in a trench coat. I hope that I wrote him well. I also love the interactions he has with Sam and Dean on the show and I really wanted to showcase that here.

This will be a fairly longer story with 7 chapters total. I’ve already written them and now I just have to edit them. I hate editing so it usually takes longer than I mean to. I hope you guys enjoy this first part with my absolutely favorite angel Castiel!

Chapter 1: Wings Were Made To Be Seen

    "You sure he's coming?"

    Dean looked up from the magazine that he was reading before he tipped his head toward Sam. "I called him. He usually comes running, but I'm sure that he's just a little slow with the war going on and stuff. He'll be here, I'm sure of it."

    Sam said nothing more as he turned back to the map. He circled where they needed to be, which was about a five minute drive. "The house is right here and it was built on top of a graveyard, so that means many unhappy spirits. I really wish Cas would show up!"

    "Show up for what?"

    Sam and Dean both turned to see their favorite angel in a trench coat standing in front of them. Dean was the first one to greet him, but he stopped short. Something appeared to be off with Castiel. His eyes were slightly bloodshot and had bags under them while he was breathing more through his mouth. His nostrils were slightly pink and appeared to be twitching. This was not the same Castiel that Dean knew.

    "Cas, everything okay," Dean asked gently.
   
    "Yes, why wouldn't it be," Castiel questioned blankly.

    Dean looked to Sam for backup, but Sam was already readying to move. He had the weapons packed after a brief cleaning and was ready to go, but something about this made Dean hesitant. There had to be something off about Castiel.

    "Cas, what's that?!"

    Castiel lifted a hand and pushed it to where Dean was pointing. Dean was of course pointing to his nose. Bluefish goo was trickling down from one of his left nostril. It was one of the strangest things that Dean had ever seen. It was pretty gross and Dean had no idea what it was.

    "I believe it is human liquid that is commonly ejected from the nose," Castiel explained as he rubbed at it stubbornly with the side of his trench coat sleeve. The blue goo clung to it and made Castiel look almost radioactive.

    Dean pressed a finger to his temple. "You mean snot?"

    "I suppose if that is what you call it," Castiel continued as he wiped at his nose to try and stem the waterfall of blue liquid streaming from it.

    "Are you sick or something," asked Dean intrigued.

    Castiel wrinkled his nose. "I don't, eh, beliuah ah so...HetchsHshhh!"

    The force of the sneeze bent Castiel at the waist before something shot out of his back and collided with Sam in the face. Sam fell backwards and landed on his back with the weapons landing on the floor behind him. Sam groaned in surprise while Castiel straightened, looking beyond embarrassed.
   
    "What the hell just happened," groaned Sam on the floor.

    "I am terribly sorry, Sam," Castiel began as Dean offered a hand and hauled him to his feet. "I don't, um..."

    Dean turned to face his slightly winded brother. "Castiel sneezed and I'm not entirely sure what happened after that," Dean explained. It had happened so quick that Dean had missed just about all of it.

    Sam rubbed his chest and forehead. "It felt like something hit me. It was strong and feathered, I think," Sam tried to recall as he rubbed his chest once more.

    Castiel bit his lip as he turned away from the two Winchesters. He lifted a hand and pawed at his nose while he sniffled harshly. The sound echoed through the entire motel as Castiel tried to stem the flow or stop it completely. He wasn't having much luck.

    Dean smiled sympathetically as he grabbed a box of rough motel tissues on the table and brought it over to Castiel. He dangled it in front of his face, smiling ever so slightly. "Here, sniffles. This might work better than your sleeve."

    Castiel looked at the drenched patch of his trench coat and nodded. He took the box that Dean offered and pulled a few out. He lifted it to his nose and started to rub it back and forth slowly. He was slightly cleaning himself up, but more of the blue liquid continued to flow out. Dean couldn't help but grimace.

    "Well, how about you try blowing? That works too," he offered.

    Castiel raised an eyebrow. "Blowing?"

    "Your nose," Sam answered as he joined his brother beside him. "You just place a tissue over your nose and blow and you're set!"

    Castiel appeared guarded, but he did as they suggested. He lifted the tissue to his nose and blew through his nose after Dean demonstrated. Once he was finished, the tissue was sopping in clear mucus as well as the angelic blue stuff. He showed it to Dean before Dean rolled his eyes and forced Castiel to throw it in the trash.

    "So, the mission," Castiel croaked.

    Dean stretched out a hand to stop him rushing forward. "I don't think so. First tell me what the hell is wrong with you and why you're sneezing blue goo."
   
    Castiel gritted his teeth together, swiveling around to look at Dean and Sam at the same time. "It's my grace."

    "You're sneezing out your grace! What the hell, man? Isn't that, you know, dangerous," Dean snapped as he took a step closer to the angel.

    Castiel angled his head away bashfully. "It is none of your concern! It is merely a different type of warfare."

    "They're giving all the angels colds? Man, I'd hate to be an angel," Dean laughed as he rolled his eyes, hands shoved deep within his pockets.

    Sam waved a hand to cut him off. "Is it dangerous for you to be losing grace like this," Sam asked, echoing one of Dean's thoughts from earlier.

    Castiel shook his head. "I am renewing my grace as rapidly as I am losing it," he explained as he tried to make himself sound stronger than he was. "It should not matter."

    Dean started to say something, but Sam grasped his arm. "Cas, can you give Dean and I a second?"

    Castiel stood rigid, blue eyes turning stormy in apprehension before nodding slowly. "Of course. No problem." He seemed to shrug as he walked over to the bed and sat down. He rubbed his palms against his tired eyes as he let out a weak sounded cough, sending some blue breath into the air. Sam didn't say anything as he sighed heavily.

    "Do you really think that he should come with us," Sam asked shortly.

    Dean chewed on his lower lip. "Of course not! But, we don't have much of a choice. He has to come with us. We just have to make sure that he doesn't mess this up."

    "This sounds like a long shot to me," confessed Sam.

    "It doesn't matter. It's all we got. We have to get this done and I doubt that telling him to stop and wait is a good idea," he pointed out with a frown to his brother.

    "Hetcshshs!"

    Both Dean and Sam cringed as they turned and saw Castiel standing with his hand cupped over half of his face. He looked to Dean hopefully before he shivered. "Tissues?"

    Dean nudged the tissue box toward his friend with a smile clear on his face. "Here, buddy. Just use these," he told him, stealing a look over at Sam. "Maybe it's not a good idea."

    "He'll just follow us. You know that he will. He hasn't exactly learned the art of 'staying still'," Sam hissed.

    "Hetcshshs!"

    The explosive sneeze was accompanied by the lamp on the bedside table being thrown forward. It landed on the ground and shattered into a million pieces. Both Dean and Sam jumped and spun to face Castiel. They each looked at him quizzically, then looked at the lamp.

    Dean's gaze never left the lamp until Sam elbowed him hard in the side. Dean looked up and gasped when he saw something black and feathered slightly sticking out from Castiel's back. Castiel seemed way too out of it to notice, but Dean certainly did. Dean had only seen Castiel's wings once—even then it had been more of a shadow—and he had actually forgotten that he actually had wings. But, it was a little hard to miss now.

    "Um, Cas," Dean began as he lifted a hand and pointed at the slightly stretched out wing behind him.

    Castiel looked back with his wrist pressed against his nose to contain the grace seeping out. He let out a small gasp as he quickly tucked them back and they disappeared without a trace. He frowned as he looked down to the floor, taking a moment to look back up to Dean with embarrassment showing on his face.

    "By abologies," he mumbled thickly.

    Dean wasn't sure what to say. He just stood there in shock as Sam walked over and nodded to the lamp. "It's okay. We just have to make sure that that doesn't happen again."

    "I will try," Castiel reassured weakly.

    Dean sighed as he passed them and pushed the box of tissues against Castiel's chest. "Here use these. You sound like you snorted cotton," he muttered as he opened the motel's door. "I guess that we have to get going."

    "Are you sure that you're up for this, Cas," Sam inquired gently.

    Castiel gave his head a powerful nod. "Of course! I will be fine," he reassured as he took out a few tissues from the box to powerfully blow his nose.

    "Okay, well we should probably—“

    "HetcHshsh! HetchsHshh! HetCShshSHSH!"

    The force of the sneezes caused Castiel's wings to shoot out once more. This time one connected with the side of the door and the other with the wall. His wings seemed to crumple in pain as Castiel's brow knit together, eyes wild and frightened. The tissue obstructed much of his face, but Dean could tell that it couldn't have felt good.

    Sam and Dean both looked like they wanted to say something, but whatever they wanted to say, had been completely lost on principle. Dean stifled a groan as he opened the door the rest of the way and saw Castiel's wings fold and then completely disappear behind him.

    "Let's go. This is such a bad idea!"

Chapter 2: Wings Were Made To Cause Trouble

Summary:

Dean can pretend that he only cares about the Impala and not Castiel, but Sam knows the truth.

Notes:

Thanks to everyone that has read/commented/left kudos on this story. It’s so fun to write about the dynamics between the three of them and I’m a sucker for anytime Castiel shows his wings, even if they’re not fully in his control like they are in this story. This chapter is heavy on the reluctant care, but I promise they’ll come around soon. They can’t ignore his plight forever (especially Dean)

I hope you guys enjoy this second part as much as this last one. As always I love hearing that you guys enjoyed the story since it kinda keeps me going.

    "Okay, Cas, we have new rules in the Impala," Dean explained once Castiel climbed into the backseat.

    Castiel tilted his head and gave a powerful sniff as blue goo started to trickle from his gaping nostrils. "What?"

    "No sneezing in the Impala," Dean answered as he started to the car. "Understand me?"

    "Dean," Sam began with a hint of a growl in his voice.

    Dean raised a hand to cut him off. "No, buts about it. You sneeze and those wings of yours pop out and break something in here I'm going to have your head!"

    "Why would you wish to take my head," Castiel asked stubbornly.

    Dean rolled his eyes while Sam turned around in the front seat of the Impala to answer Castiel’s question. "It's just an expression, Cas. Dean just means that he's going to be really angry." Sam spun to face Dean with his own angry expression. "Which isn't fair."

    "What isn't fair is if he sneezes and breaks a window," Dean flashed back with a smug glance. "If he can't learn to control those things than they can't happen at all."

    Sam looked like he wanted to argue, but thought better of it. He muttered to himself as he sat back in the passenger seat with his head rested against the window, waiting patiently. He knew that Castiel wasn't going to be able to hold them in for the twenty minutes that it took to get to the motel. He was not looking forward to the way that Dean was going to react either.

    It was quiet for about ten minutes before the sniffling from the backseat really started to bother Dean. He gritted his teeth together, finally adjusting the rearview mirror so that he could see in the back seat. There he saw the angel hunched over, hand rubbing against the underside of his nose, eyes glowing in frustration while he sniffled. "Cas, must you do that?"

    "I am sorry, Dean. My nose appears to be producing even more of this blue substance," he confessed as he took another tissue and rubbed at it.

    Sam smiled kindly. "Yeah, that's annoying. Try blowing your nose. That helps."

    Castiel shook his head madly, causing more congestion to flow from his nostrils. "I-I can't," he stammered in embarrassment.

    "And why not," Dean complained.

    "Because it makes my nose tickle and then I sneeze," Castiel confessed as he played with his hands in front of him as if he was actually embarrassed for once.

    Sam turned to look at his brother with his puppy dog eyes. Dean met his gaze, stifling a groan. "Fine, fine, but if he breaks anything then you pay for it," Dean seethed as he gripped the steering wheel tighter, ready for the inevitable.

    Relief showed on Castiel's face as he lifted a tissue and pressed it to the lower half of his face. He emptied both nostrils in turn and Sam saw the blue liquid—Castiel's grace—seeping through the tissue. Castiel set it down, grabbed another, and blew once more. When air finally passed through his nose, he looked down at his slightly blue and sticky hands. He shrugged as he rubbed them against his trench coat and Sam let out a small sigh. He leaned back and reminded himself not to touch anywhere on Castiel for at least a little bit.

    It wasn't two minutes later that the sniffling intensified once more. This time both Sam and Deann were a little frustrated at the sound. Castile could be annoying at times, but never quite like this.

    "Cas, please," begged Dean as he hit his head against the steering wheel. "Can't you keep it down?"

    Castiel looked up to Sam and Dean from the back with an almost panicked look on his face. "It feels...uh....like I'm gonna...uh...huh...Heh!"

    Dean gripped the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white. Then, to Sam's surprise, Dean turned almost sympathetic. "It's alright, Cas. Fighting it does no good."

    Castiel shook his head, his eyes watering and a small trail of grace trickling from his nose like a small stream. "N-No," he almost screamed. "You...eh....told.....huh...me...no-not t-to," he stammered through hitching breaths. Each time it tickled his nose a little bit more and caused the intensified sneezy feeling that he desperately wanted to expel. However, Dean had told him not to and that was precisely what he was doing.

    Dean looked to Sam, who had crossed his arms against his chest. "Your fault. You fix it."

    Dean frowned. "How do you want me to fix it? What do you want me to say?"

    Sam rolled his eyes as he turned to look at Castiel. He tried not to cringe at the sound of Castiel's hitching breaths or the desperation on his face. He looked terrible and holding back that sneeze wasn't helping. "Cas, Dean was just kidding. Whatever happens, it's okay. Dean didn't mean it, okay?"

    Castiel's eyes were fluttering so much that they were almost closed. "Promise?"

    "Promise," Dean echoed. It was about time he fought his own battles and not Sam.

    Castiel relaxed his entire body before he pressed the tissue even firmer against his nose to allow the sneeze to shake his entire body.

    "HetcshsHsh! Hetcshsh! HeTCShhs! HetCHsHSHh!"

    Sure enough, the black wings shot out from behind him and one hit the passenger door and the other went right through the window. Castiel whimpered in surprise as he looked at the wing through the glass, flailing madly. He tried to pull it free, but it just resulted in his wing becoming even more wedged in. Blood started to trickle from the window as Castiel forced his wings to disappear from Sam and Dean's view.

    "Dean, pull over," Sam ordered as he saw the look of pain and embarrassment on Castiel's face.

    Dean didn't think twice. He pulled the Impala to the side of the road and looked over to Sam. Sam seemed stunned as to what actually to do, so Dean took charge right away.

    "Look, I'm going to stay with Cas and keep him calm while you see what you can do about that wing," Dean told him as he motioned to the trunk. "There's blankets back there that we can use to stop the bleeding."

    Sam sprang from the passenger seat with Dean doing the same. Dean came on the other side and climbed into the passenger seat that Sam had just been occupying. Castiel looked like he was about to loose it. Tears showed in his eyes and his breath came in ragged gasps. He shook in terror as he let out a few coughs, grace spilling from his lips.

    Dean rested a hand on his shoulder in an effort to calm him down. "Hey, look at me. It's okay. It'a alright. We're going to get your wing out. We're going to fix it."

    "N-No," stammered Castiel as he looked into Dean's eyes before he propelled himself forward with and unrestrained sneeze.

    "HetcHshh!"

    Dean tried to ignore the blue splashes now littering his chest. He felt the spray, but tried not to react to it. Castiel looked up and whimpered in shame.

    "It's okay," Dean told him as he helped Castiel straighten so that he didn't wrench his wing anymore. "I promise that it's going to be okay. Just breathe. Copy my breathing. In and out. In and out."

    Dean took in a couple deep breaths before he waited for Castiel to match his breath. The two of them sat with their foreheads pressed against each other. Dean allowed Castiel to slump against him. But, he couldn't turn him any which way and it was a little uncomfortable for him. Dean tried to help him as much as possible, but what would really make Castiel feel better was his wing out of the window.

    "How are you doing with that, Sammy," Dean called, trying not to freak out Castiel.

    Sam frowned. "I can't do much if I can't see it," confessed Sam as he looked to where he thought that Castiel's wing had to be. He was standing on the outside of the car, but he didn't want to just start pushing on it. He knew that it was bleeding since the blood ran from the broken window glass and trickled down the door of the car.

    Dean gritted his teeth as he rested a hand on Castiel's shoulder and watched him sniffle. "Buddy, you have to show us your wings."

    Panic showed on Castiel's face. "No," he argued with a shake of his head.

    "And why not," Dean asked as he squeezed his shoulder firmly, keeping his voice even and non-threatening.
   
    Castiel raised his wrist and rubbed it against his nose roughly. "Angel wings are sacred, Dean. It's what angels are most proud of, but they're sensitive and no one is supposed to look at them. Not even you two."'

    "I understand that, but I'm not asking you to give away your most intimate secrets. I'm asking you to just let me see them so that we can help you. Okay?"

    Castiel still seemed beyond reluctant, but luckily his nose has different ideas. It twitched and his nostrils flared while he sucked in a breath. Dean gripped his shoulders and held him steady since he knew what was about to happen.

    "Hetcshhsh! Hetcshsh!"

    Dean sighed as more blue specks covered his chest and sleeve. He didn't have time to focus on that since his black feathered wings came back into view.

    It was then that both Sam and Dean saw his muscular, ebony feathered wing jammed tightly in the window. It poked out a good bit as blood and black feathers started to fall from his wing. It wasn't a deadly wound, but it wasn't good either.

    "Castiel, don't move. Don't do anything. Just stay still," urged Dean as he rested a hand in the small of Castiel's back, right in the middle of the gap in his wings. The last thing that he wanted to to do was cause Castiel even more discomfort.

    Castiel gulped until he nodded slowly. He went to look to where Sam was draping his wing with blankets to try and stem the bleeding when Dean shot out a hand and pulled his chin slightly so that he couldn't.

    "No, don't even think about that," chided Dean sternly, keeping Castiel’s attention on him. "That's not going to make it better. We're going to fix it, but until then, don't look."

    Castiel sighed heavily, which turned into a wet cough. It shook his entire body while Dean tried to hold him steady. "I'm sorry."

    "For what," Dean joked as he watched Sam lift Castiel's wing gingerly and slide it through the the pieces of serrated glass. It splintered and fell on the seat and on the outside of the car. Castiel's wing went completely limp once it was free of it’s binding. Sam rushed to open the door and pressed more blankets around the wing to stop the bleeding.

    Castiel coughed again, lifting a tissue to his face to catch the newest onslaught of ticklish sneezes.

    "HehTcshsh! Hetcshsh! HetSHshh!"

    Dean let out a breath of relief that Castiel had actually managed to cover his mouth this time. It had obliterated the tissue, though, and it was pretty useless to Castiel now. He set the tissue on the floor and grabbed a few new ones. He blew his nose shyly, glancing over to Dean.

    "You don't have to apologize for being sick. Everyone gets sick, even angels apparently," joked Dean.

    Castiel nodded while Sam clapped his hands. "Alright! That's the best that I can do with what I have, but once we get back to the motel I can stitch you up a little better."

    "That's it. We're going back to the motel, now," Dean ordered, tossing Sam the keys.

    Sam caught them as Castiel pressed his hands against Dean's chest as he tried to straighten. "No! We have to get to the house with the...Hutcshshs!"

    Dean grabbed the box of tissues that had fallen from the seat. He set it on Castiel's lap, watching the angel scramble to pull some out. He started to press it against his nose as he blew loudly. Once he was finished Dean, scrambled backwards and closed the door gently.

    He climbed into the passenger seat before he looked over to Sam. "Drive back to the motel. We'll take care of it ourselves."

    "Look, we can't just leave him. He'll follow us," Sam pointed out as he turned the key in the ignition and turned to face his brother. "I'll go and you can stay with him."

    "What? Why me," complained Dean.

    "Because you two are 'bonded' or whatever. He'll listen to you better than he will me and he wants you more than he'll wants me. Do you think that you can just sit tight for a few hours, and as soon as I'm done then I'll come back and relieve you so you can go to a bar or something. Deal?"

    Dean sighed as he nodded slowly. "Fine, but don't take too long and you have to help me get him settled."

    "Sure," Sam sighed before he dangled the keys in front of Dean's face. "Want to drive?"

    Dean turned and looked at Castiel in the back seat. He was slightly leaned forward with his head pressed against the glass. It looked like he was favoring his back, or more like his wings. Dean gritted his teeth together, sighing heavily. "You go ahead. I better make sure that he's okay."

    Sam said nothing as Dean climbed out of the passenger seat and into the back seat. Castiel lifted his head and tilted it in his characteristic look of surprise.

    "Hey, you okay," asked Dean.

    Castiel lifted his head and sniffed. "Fine."

    Dean stretched out a hand and palmed Castiel's forehead. "Apparently this angelic cold is accompanied by a fever. Don't worry. We have Tylenol for that."

    "Tylenol," asked Castiel with a small head tilt to the other side.

    "I'll explain it when we get back. I think that we're in for a long night."

Notes:

And I end with fluff. I just can’t seem to get away from it, especially when it comes to anything Castiel related. I just can’t escape from it. I hope to have the next chapter up soon. In the meantime I hope that you are all staying safe and healthy!

Chapter 3: Wings Were Made To Complicate Things

Summary:

Dean and Sam may have more than they bargained for with a sick angel and his wings on their hands.

Notes:

I had some free time and decided to try and update this story. I know I just did an update a little while ago, but I’ve just been on a bit of a roll and didn’t want to loose the motivation. Sick Castiel is just endearing to write especially showing the Winchesters caring for him. This is kinda a filler chapter, but I hope that it’s a fun read nonetheless. Much fluff to go around as usual. I really can’t help myself, especially when it comes to Castiel and Dean!

    The drive back to the motel wasn't long since they had only gotten halfway there. Castiel had managed to fall asleep against the broken window of the Impala. Dean worried that it was going to shatter and Castiel's head was going to hang out, but Castiel was barely sleeping. He was breathing through his open mouth at this point and his nostrils were flaring with the still lurking itch. Dean had dealt with sick Sam more times than he could count, but he had no idea how to deal with a sick Castiel. He barely knew how to deal with regular Castiel most of the time.

    They pulled up at the motel and Dean nudged Castiel calmly awake. "Come on, buddy. Let's get that wing taken care of," he chided as he looked up at the window. "And maybe the window."

    "I am sorry about that," Castiel rasped as he opened the door of the broken window and climbed out. He coughed into a raised fist before he slammed the door behind him. The rest of the window shattered, sending glass everywhere. Castiel spun around, looking blank and fearful. "I-I...."

    Sam climbed out beside him and steered him toward the motel. "It's okay," chided Sam as he watched Dean enter the motel room. "I told him that I did it."

    "Why," Castiel asked.

    "Because he'll go easier on me," Sam answered with a tiny smile. "Just be a little more careful if you can. If not then be aware of where you stand."

    Castiel smiled gratefully, nodding slowly, coughing into his fist once again. He allowed Sam to lead him forward and into the motel room, a large hand rested on his shoulder. It was fairly spacious compared to other motel rooms that the brothers were used to staying at. That was probably a good thing since they still hadn't figured out Castiel's wing problem yet.

    "Sit down on the bed and I'll get the first aid kit," Sam told him as he started to rummage through his duffle.

    Meanwhile, Dean came over to Castiel with a small bottle of pills. "Here," he offered as he handed him two accompanied by a bottle of water.

    "I'm not sure—“

    "Just put them on your tongue and swallow the water like normal. It'll take it down by itself," explained Dean as he grabbed his duffle and looked through it. He brought out a clean t-shirt and sweatpants and set them on the bed in front of Castiel.

    "What are those for," Castiel asked.

    "You're not going to stay in those clothes," Dean pointed out as he started to pry Castiel's trench coat from his arms and shoulders. "For one they're covered in blood, and second you're not going to be very comfortable in them. You're going to sweat right through them with your fever."

    Castiel looked almost offended considering that he had never worn anything else, unless he was stabbed or something like that. However, he would just then grab what he needed from Jimmy's closet, but it would be the exact same thing. He never wore something other than what he always wore.

    "Don't look so shocked. You'll be fine, okay? You'll feel a heck of a lot better after you change," Dean pointed out as Sam spread out everything that he needed on the bed.

    "Okay, so, since you're not healing like you used to and you're spilling grace out whenever you cough or sneeze, I'm going to need to stitch your wing up. At least, I hope that's all I need to do," explained Sam as he threaded the needle.

    Castiel jumped and crumpled to the ground when his legs could no longer support him all the way. Both Sam and Dean lunged forward and looped their arms around Castiel and hauled him back onto the bed. "No, Cas," chided Dean.

    "I-I'm fine," Castiel stammered as he shook his head madly. "You don't need to do this. I'm fine."

    "You are not fine, Cas. I'm sure that you're still bleeding and we need to help you. You have to let us help you. I promise that I won't hurt your wings. I'll be as gentle as I could possibly be," reassured Sam as he looked to Dean. "You have to turn him around to face the wall. I don't want his wings bent."

    Dean steered Castiel around so that his back was facing Sam and his front was facing Dean. Dean smiled encouragingly as he thought about what they could possibly talk about. "Cas, I have to see your wings," Sam explained.

    Castiel looked to Dean. "Please don't make me do it."

    "I'm with Sam on this one. I promise that he's not going to hurt them or rip at your feathers out or whatever. He's just going to make sure that it's okay," explained Dean.

    Castiel shook his head defiantly, anger and fear clear in his eyes. Dean exchanged a glance with Sam, who shrugged. Dean bit his lip before he glared at Castiel. "Look, I didn't want to have to do this, but you kind of left me no choice."

    Castiel was about to ask what Dean actually meant when Dean lifted his hand and ran a finger enticingly along the bridge of Castiel's nose. Castiel whimpered as he tried to look away while Dean continued to toy with him. He flicked his finger against the tip and that was all it took to send Castiel over the edge.

    "Hetcshshs! HetCshsh!"

    Sure enough, the black feathered wings spread to their full length, becoming corporal. Dean was tempted to shout at Sam to grab them before Castiel could force them to disappear, but he thought better of it. Sam was already on it, though, and took the twitching wing in his hands. He held on tightly, but not in the wound so that he didn't injure Castiel anymore.

Sam could feel the rippling muscles under the covet of thick feathers. The long flight feathers disappeared under a couple layers of shorter, stouter plumage that covered the wing bone and taunt flesh. The power that Castiel’s wings held were unimaginable and Sam couldn’t imagine anything more inspiring than actually feeling the angel’s wings in his hands.

    "Easy, Cas," Sam whispered when Castiel's wing locked up and was almost unable to move.

    "Come on, Cas. Let Sam help," Dean told him as he took the box of tissues and offered it to Castiel. "And you got something right here." He pointed to his right nostril and Castiel immediately rushed to clean his own up.

    While he did, Sam fumbled to force Castiel's wing into submission. Eventually he was able to force the wing down and backwards. Sure enough there were shards of glass along the bone while several of the feathers were a small tug from falling out. They were covered with blood that was continuing to flow from the jagged wound.

    "It's not that bad," Sam announced, forcing optimism into his voice. "It'll just be a quick stitching and then you should be good to go."

    "Go where," inquired Castiel.

    "Well, Sam is going to take this case on his own and you and I are going to stay here," Dean explained as he reached out and grabbed the first aid kit from his brother.
   
    Castiel narrowed his eyes. "I can prove some assistance."
   
    "Normally I wouldn't question it, but right now I need you to get better and you won't there, especially with your wing problem," Dean pointed out as he rummaged around the kit, gaze flickering up to the icy shards of blue in Castiel’s gaze.

    Castiel set his jaw in defiance. "I'm going with you."

    "I thought you might say that, so I have an idea. When Sam was little I would tell him that he could do whatever he wanted as long a his fever was under 100. If it was over 100 then he had to stay in bed until he was better. How about that? Sound like a deal," asked Dean as he produced the thermometer from the kit, waving it in front of Castiel’s face.

    Castiel looked down to the instrument in Dean’s grasp before he nodded. It wasn't like he had much of a choice. Dean held all the power in this situation. "Fine. What am I supposed to do with it?"

    "Just open your mouth and I'll stick it under your tongue. As soon as it beeps then I'll know that it's done," Dean explained as he turned it on. "Now, open up."

    Castiel grimaced as he obeyed. Dean stuck the thermometer under his tongue while Sam continued to stitch his wing closed while trying to remove fragments of glass at the same time.

    Almost thirty seconds later, Castiel started to squirm, glaring up at Dean. "Um, Dean?"

    "Shhh, Cas! You can't talk with that in or it'll mess up the reading," Dean scolded, recalling having this exact same conversation with a young Sam.

    Castiel rolled his eyes. "I am aware, but it's of import."

    "Can't it wait like two minutes? It'll be over with before you even notice, I promise," Dean told him, eyes glittering in amusement.

    "Hetcshshs! HetcSHshh!"

    Dean watched as the thermometer fell from Castiel's mouth while he let out a small groan of pain. He tried to look over his shoulder, but Dean quickly reached upward and grabbed Castiel’s chin, forcing him to look into his eyes.

    "It hurts even worse back there," Castiel muttered, face contorting in agony.

    "That might be because the needle if jammed pretty far up there," Sam confessed as he pressed on the bone gingerly. Castiel's wing flinched and Sam had to be careful that it didn't hit him in the face. "But, if it helps any it's not that bad and I'm almost done. Let's just not do that again."

    Dean chuckled before he turned it back on and stuck the thermometer back in Castiel's mouth. "Okay, let's help Sam and I out and not sneeze for the next two minutes, okay?"

    Castiel said nothing, taking what Dean had said about not talking to heart. He tried to focus on just willing his temperature to be below 100 degrees. He had heard that human temperatures were 98.6 normally, but he wasn't sure what his was at this moment. All he knew was that he didn't feel like he always did and he hated it.

    The beeping of the thermometer startled him and he almost jumped back. Luckily Dean was there to take it from him. He looked at the small electronic reading, a smug smile showing on his face. He turned it to face Castiel, nearly shoving it into his face. Castiel rolled his eyes as he looked at it, frustration churning in his stomach.

    "102.3. That's much higher than 100. Looks like you're at my mercy until then," Dean told him with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

    Castiel moaned just as Sam set down the needle and nodded slowly. "Alright, you're all good back here too. I've never actually stitched wings before, so I hope I did okay."

    "I'm sure you did marginal," Castiel replied, stiffly rolling his shoulders so that his wings folded against his back tightly.

    Dean had to stop himself from laughing out loud while Sam shrugged, not taking it too personally. "Thanks, Cas." He packed up the supplies and turned to Dean. "Think you can handle yourself here?"

    "Sure! What could possibly go wrong," Dean joked warmly.

    "Hetcshshs!"

    Castiel's wings, once again, shot out and his noninjued one caught Sam right under the jaw. Sam gasped in surprise as he rubbed a hand against it. "Thanks, Cas."

    Castiel spun to look at him with his wrist still pressed against the underside of his nostrils. "By abologies."

    Dean struggled not to laugh or smile as he handed the tissue box to Castiel. The angel pulled out a few more and pressed them against his nose as more grace trickled out. Castiel grumbled something to himself as he gave a few echoing coughs that shook his entire frame. Dean stretched out a hand and rested it against Castiel’s shoulder to steady him.

    "We'll be fine," Dean reassured as if he was reading Sam's thoughts. "Just get going."

    Sam didn't need to be told twice. He never thought that he would take vengeful spirits over Castiel, but those wings were just as dangerous as the spirits probably could be. He smiled to Castiel kindly, swiftly grabbing the keys to the Impala and left the motel room in a sudden haste.

    "Dean?"

    Dean turned his attention to Castiel, who looked considerably more miserable then when he got there. "Yeah, Cas?"

    "I don't feel well.”

Notes:

Things are just starting to get a little more interesting between all of them. The next part is going to be mainly just Castiel and Dean. I hope you guys enjoyed this part and are staying safe and healthy!

Chapter 4: Wings Were Made To Be Destructive

Summary:

Dean is charged to look after Castiel and both parties are a little embarrassed to say the least.

Notes:

This is a Dean and Castiel fluff part to say the least. I guess you could say Destiel if you liked to read it like that. In fact, the whole story could be read that way or not, depending on what you like. Either way it doesn’t change the story much at all. Anyway, this isn’t an overly long chapter with most enough awkwardness to go around. Nothing is better than a confused Castiel and flustered Winchester.

    "I know that you don't," Dean told him as he handed him the sweatpants and t-shirt. "Go and change into this and I'm sure that it'll make you feel a little better."

    Castiel didn't argue. He grabbed the clothes that Dean offered before his gaze flickered so that it became distant. He took in a deep, hitching breath with the 'I'm about to sneeze' look that Dean had learned to anticipate.

    "Cover it," Dean ordered, knowing that Castiel's grace spraying would not be appreciated by the motel staff.

    Castiel lifted the clothes to his face and let out a violent triple. "Hetcshshs! Hetcshsh! Hetcshshs!"

    Castiel rubbed his nose against the clothes to rid himself of the ticklish feeling, suddenly realizing who's they were. He croaked a bit, looking to fearfully Dean, the clothes still pressed against his nose. "I-I—“

    "Cas, it's okay," Dean chided as he took the clothes from Castiel and threw them on the floor to be washed later. He took to the duffle once more and was able to find another pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. He handed it back to Castiel and motioned to the bathroom.

    Castiel walked in and closed the door. Dean pulled himself from the bed and started to see what he could possibly have to make Castiel feel better. They didn't have any cold medicine in the first aid kit and the only thing that he had in there that could be of any use was some Tylenol, and they had already tried that. They had tissues from the motel, but that was probably it. He wished that he could go out and get stuff for him, but he wasn’t about to leave Castiel unattended or take him with him. He was going to have to call Sam and ask him to pick up some things after he finished at the witnesses’s house.

    "Hetcshsh!"

    "I really hope that he covered his mouth," Dean muttered to himself as he turned on the TV so that it wouldn't just be awkward conversation between himself and Castiel. It wasn't like he was overly good at this. He was just trying to treat Castiel like how he would've treated Sam when he was sick. Unfortunately, this was completely different from when Sam was sick.

    "Hetcshsh!"
   
    There was a sudden sound of shattering glass and something falling from within the bathroom, followed by a thud. Panic rose from inside Dean.

    "Cas," Dean called.

    He knocked at the bathroom door and froze when he heard Castiel's weak and trembling voice. "Dean?"

    Dean opened the door before even registering what he was doing. He swung open the door and held his breath when he saw Castiel laying on the bathroom floor on his side, legs tucked under him and arms propping himself up into a makeshift sitting position. The mirror was shattered over the sink and droplets of blood littered almost everywhere in the bathroom.

    "Cas," Dean chided as he kneeled down and rested a hand on Castiel's shoulder.

    Castiel shied away from Dean with a small wince. "My wings," he whimpered.

    "I know. I know. How about I help you back to the bed and then I can see about your wings, alright," asked Dean as gently as he possibly could. He tried not to allow any fear from sounding in his voice so not to spook Castiel anymore than he was already spooked.

    Castiel didn't answer, but Dean didn't need him to. Ever so gently, he grasped Castiel by the shoulders and hauled him to his feet. Dean had no idea where his wings were since they had long since disappeared, but he wanted to at least make sure that they didn't snag on anything in the bathroom or small motel room.

    They made their way forward, Castiel stumbling the entire time and leaning on Dean for support and balance. Dean finally was able to set him on the bed. He squeezed his shoulder comfortingly, turning back to the first aid kit. He sighed heavily as he grabbed the tissue box and set it in front of Castiel. He would certainly need those.

    "Just make sure if you need it that they're right here," Dean explained, grabbing the first aid supplies again and sitting behind Castiel. "You know the drill."

    Castiel spun to face Dean and shook his head. "They're fine. We don't need to—“

    "Cas, please don't make this harder than it needs to be. I just need to have a look is all," Dean told him firmly.

    "Hetcshshs!"

    Castiel's wings once again appeared to Dean and Dean couldn't help but reach out and touch them. Clearly the touch was too much for Castiel since he gasped in agony. Dean immediately let go of them as he looked over to Castiel, shame washing over him.

    "I'm sorry, Cas," Dean apologized, gulping heavily.

    Castiel shook his head, letting out a heavy breath, his wings sagging. Dean could still see them and that meant he could still see the fallen feathers that were doused heavily in blood. He winced when Dean tried to touch his wings again.

    "It's not that bad," Dean whispered as he grabbed the needle once again, that was still threaded from when Sam had patched up Castiel’s wings. "Just a few nicks and scratches from the glass. I just need to get in there. Do you think that you can hold out for a few seconds?"

    Castiel didn't answer, but he gave a weak sniffle. Dean took that as okay as he grasped Castiel's wing firmly and pulled it out to get a better look at it. He quickly began to stitch Castiel's wings in places where the the glass had cut deep into his flesh. Once Dean finished, he patted Castiel in the middle of his back.

    "Alright, you're good," whispered Dean as he slid from the bed and went to wash his slightly bloody hands.

    After he washed them in the bathroom with warm soapy water, he returned back to the bed to Castiel's side and pointed to the bed. "Lay down. Get some sleep. Maybe then you'll feel a little better."

    "I'm not sure I can," replied Castiel as he lifted a hand and rubbed at his nose. Blue goo clung to his fingers and he looked around madly for the tissues.

    Dean smiled as he threw the box over to him. Castiel caught it in one hand and tried to clean off his fingers with brisk touches. "And why not," questioned Dean stubbornly. "Afraid I'm going to try to kill you in your sleep or something?"

    "I don't believe that you could if you attempted.” He gave a brief, dramatic pause. “I am just not used to this," confessed Castiel.

    Dean sighed as he came over and sat on the bed beside Castiel, hands rested on his knees. "I get that, but how about we just try? You try to get some sleep and I'll watch crappy motel TV? How about that?"

    Castiel still appeared to be guarded, understandably so, but he didn't argue it. Instead, he swung his legs onto the bed with his back propped up against a few pillows. He coughed painfully while rubbing his wrist against the undersides of his nose until it turned sore, and he forced his hand away from it, despite the lingering itch.

    Dean nodded to him before he took the night table that was between the two single beds and pulled it to the corner of the room. "What are you doing," Castiel asked quizzically, head giving his telltale tilt. Dean had to admit it looked even more pathetic now that the angel had a runny nose and ashen appearance.

    "With your wing problems I thought that it would be best if the less things that you could bump into with those wings of yours would be for the better," Dean pointed out with a small shrug. "Does that sound okay?"

    "Hetcshshs! Hetcshshs! Hetcshshs!"

    His wings spread like normal while his knees curled up to his chest. He sneezed against the comforter and speckled it with grace like anything else that Castiel sneezed on. Castiel shook his head to clear it, grabbing a fistful of tissues and blew his nose loudly.

    "See, not bad, huh," Dean teased as he offered the bottle of water from earlier back to Castiel. "Keep hydrated. That should help with the fever too. We don't want it to get any higher."

    "Thank you for all this, Dean," whispered Castiel as he snorted back congestion and grace.

    Dean smiled. "Don't mention it. You're family and this is what we do for family," Dean explained as he went to sit on the bed beside Castiel. "Just call if you need anything, okay?"

    "Dean, will you stay here," pleaded Castiel, eyes round.

    Dean grunted as he swung his legs back over the bed and sat down besides Castiel on his bed. He sighed heavily, noticing as Castiel shivered. Dean rolled his eyes as he curled his arm around his shoulders and held him close to share his body heat with him.

    "What about my wings," Castiel asked in a hushed whisper, debating whether or not to pull away from Dean’s strong grasp.

    "You're the one who wanted me to come over! Besides, if I go flying then it'll be your fault," joked Dean warmly as he pushed Castiel ever so slightly.

    Castiel smiled back gratefully, lifting a hand and coughing weakly into it. He closed his eyes before he looked up to the ceiling with his eyes partially closed and lips parted.

    "Hetcshshs!"

    Dean grunted when he felt a wing stab him in the back. He looked over his shoulder and saw the wing that had jabbed him. It was powerful and covered in long, black feathers, but he could also see where he had patched him up. Some stitching was hanging out and he would have to clean that up later. However, for now, he was going to have to wait. He was too comfortable pressed up beside Castiel to risk moving now.

    "Bless you," Dean whispered as Castiel continued to push his head against the back of the bed, and it wasn't long until congested snores filled the room.

    Dean chuckled as he adjusted the volume on the TV and smiled down at Castiel. He actually looked quite cute like that with his reddened nose and open mouth breathing. Not that he would ever tell Castiel that, but he didn’t feel bad about thinking it in his head.

For once he actually didn't worry about Sam coming home and finding them like this.

Notes:

I hope you guys enjoyed this part and even more fluff that I can’t stop writing. Hope you guys are staying safe and healthy!

Chapter 5: Wings Were Made To Bleed

Summary:

It’s Sam’s turn to look after a sick Castiel.

Notes:

Back against with another chapter. This one mostly deals with Sam and Castiel. I wanted to flip it since Dean had his time with him and I thought that Sam should have his too. It won’t be long before they deal with him together again, which is one of my favorite things.

    The motel door opened and Dean looked up from where he had moved to the small dining room table. He had been looking for another hunt, but he wasn't going to press the matter. After all, he wasn't sure how long Castiel was going to be sick and he didn't want to move until he felt better.

    "Hey," whispered Dean as he watched Sam trudge in.

    Sam smiled as he cranked his neck painfully. "How's Cas?"

    "Oh, you know. He had a little problem in the bathroom so there's glass everywhere," Dean explained as he ran his fingers through his hair.

    "I'll keep that in mind." Sam tucked his hand into his pocket and pulled out the keys. He tossed them over to Dean and Dean caught them with one hand. "Here. You can go to the bar and get some food."

    Dean frowned as he shook his head. "I forgot to call you, so I'm going to the store to pick up somethings for Cas. I'll see what food I can find at the local diner and bring it back. Do you think that you can watch him for about an hour?"

    "Sure. How hard can it be," Sam joked with a shrug of his shoulders.

    "Right. I'll be back," announced Dean as he headed out of the motel and closed the door quietly behind him.

    As soon as he was gone, Sam ran his fingers through his long and sweaty hair and headed into the bathroom to take a shower.

    Meanwhile, as soon as the water turned on, Castiel almost jumped at the sound. He snorted as he turned over, the congestion caught in his chest and his nose. He could barely breathe at all and it hurt to do so. The tickling sensation had taken up residence in his nose and he couldn't do anything about it. He constantly felt like he needed to sneeze, yet he couldn't.

    "Dean," moaned Castiel, letting a cough as speckles of blue showed in the light.

He received no reply.

    "Dean!"

    Castiel threw off the blankets from his legs as he looked around for his friend. He couldn't see Dean and he had no idea where he could've gone. He thought that he heard the water in the bathroom, but Dean had promised that he wasn't going to leave him. He had broken that promise.

    Castiel walked toward the tiny kitchen area to get another bottle of water since his throat was burning in agony from sleeping with his mouth open. He went to take a sip before he felt the tickle overwhelm him.

    "Hetcshshs! Hetcshshs! Hetcshshs! Ugh. Sniffff."

    Castiel looked up and saw speckles of blue on the counter and sink where he had forgotten to cover his mouth. He whimpered as he felt his wing collide with one of the cabinets and become lodged in one of the handles. He groaned as he tried to pull his wing free. He staggered when he couldn't pull it free, no matter how much he tugged. Frustration clawed at him as he pulled as hard as he could.

    The entire cabinet door came off, still attached to Castiel's wing. Castiel gave it a few shakes, but it didn't come undone. He muttered to himself when he felt his nose start to tickle again, despite his attempts to quell the urge. His nostrils flared and breathing hitched madly. The burning sensation overwhelmed him into dire need.

    "Not again," Castiel complained breathlessly. "Hetcshshs! Hetcshsh! Hetcshsh!"

    This time the cabinet covered wing went right through another cabinet door. Castiel looked up to it and shook his head in embarrassment.

    "Oh doh," he sniffled as he lifted his bare wrist to his nose to stop the snot from leaking out.

    The bathroom door suddenly opened as Sam stepped in, head titled in confusion. "What the hell is going on?"

    Castiel twisted to the best of his ability and looked down bashfully, head bowed. "I um well uh...."

    Sam stifled a sigh as he walked over to him. He could still see his black feathered wings. Streaks of blood were everywhere as well as fallen, black feathers. It looked like Castiel was really putting them through the ringer and they weren't happy about it whatsoever.

    "How did you mange this one," asked Sam as he lifted Castiel's wing ever so slightly in the middle. He could partially see where his wing and the cabinet door were wedged in, but getting them out without causing Castiel's wing more strain was going to be a challenge.

    Castiel sighed loudly and Sam wondered if maybe he shouldn't have asked. "It's a long story."

    "Uh huh, got it," replied Sam, closing a hand tighter around the wing and pulled it gently. It came out of the cabinet, but the cabinet door was still wrapped around it. Sam laughed, despite himself.

    Castiel glared. "It's not funny, Sam!"

    "I know, I know, I'm sorry," Sam apologized as he tried not to snicker as he ran his finger along Castiel's wing bone, thinking about which way he could bend it and how much. "It's just ironic how you find yourself in these situations."

    "I believe it is partially due to yourself and your brother," Castiel argued as Sam managed to pull the handle from Castiel's wing. He smiled at he set it down, looking to the now bleeding wing that coated his feathers in a crimson hue.

    "You do this to yourself. Now, I doubt that you want to be stitched up again," Sam began as he examined his wing. "So, I should be able to just wrap this in gauze. It's not as bad as the wound earlier.”

    Castiel let out a sigh of relief with his wings and shoulder slumping. "Dean already had to do what you did again."

    "I'm sure that he did. You're one clumsy angel when you're sick. Why did you get up anyway," Sam asked as he tried to fix up the kitchen to the best of his ability. The last thing that he needed was a fine from the motel when they saw the damage they had caused.

    Castiel coughed painfully, his entire frame shaking with the effort. "I was looking for Dean."

    Sam tried not to let a smile spread over his face as he looked over to the bed. "Lay back down and I'll deal the the mess and your wings. Dean was right, your fever is way too high for you to be doing anything productive."

    Castiel didn't argue with him. He dragged himself over to the bed and sat down on it, bringing the covers up to his chest as his nose twitched and nostrils flared. His hitching breaths alerted Sam to his predicament and he quickly found the tissues from earlier and set them down in front of Castiel before he could make an even bigger mess.

    Castiel grabbed a handful and shoved them against his twitching nostrils.

    "Hetcshshs! Hetcshshs! Hetcshshshs! Hetcshs!"

    Castiel's sneezes weren't overly loud or powerful, but they seemed to rip through him nonetheless. He looked exhausted in the aftermath with his head hung forward and goo pouring from his nostrils. He coughed as mucus started to run down the back of his throat despite how much he was leaning forward.

    "Sab!"

    The desperation and panic was clear in his voice, even though Sam had absolutely no idea what Castiel wanted him to do about it. Nevertheless, he was going to be the best friend that he could possibly be and humor him.

    "Yeah, Cas," Sam asked as he came over with the first aid kit clamped tightly in his hand. "What do you need?"

    A look of almost shock came over Castiel until he finally slumped his shoulders and sighed. "I dond't kdow."

    "I can tell. Well, I'm sure that we can figure it out together, how about that," Sam suggested as he thought about what Dean would do for him when he was sick.

    Castiel nodded vigorously as he coughed on more mucus that clogged his sinuses. Sam stretched out a hand to hold him steady, gripping Castiel's shoulder to steady him. "Okay, first off you need to blow your nose and clean yourself up a bit. Sound good?"

    Castiel pulled the tissue from the box Sam had found and brought the bundle up to his still twitching nose. Castiel showed no embarrassment anymore and Sam chalked that up to the fever. He tried not to show his discomfort as Castiel blew his nose and continued to hold the tissues for dear life. He sniffled as a small trickle of snot ran from his nostril. He nodded to Sam.

    Sam took out the first aid kit and started to go through it. He found some gauze and realized that Castiel's wings were gone once more. "Seriously, Cas, again? I'm sure that your didn't mind doing for this Dean."

    "I don't know what you're talking about," Castiel argued sternly, a flush creeping onto his cheeks and gaze unable to meet Sam’s eyes.

    Sam rolled his eyes. "Okay, well, you still have to give me those wings. I'm sure that they're bleeding," Sam chided as he took out a tissue and handed it over. "Don't make me do what Dean did earlier. Just let me see them."

    "I don't..Hetcshshs! Hetcshshs! I a don't-Hetcshshs!" Castiel's sentence was interrupted by sputtering sneezes that seemed to shake him to his core.

    The wings revealed themselves once more and Sam was able to detect exactly where the blood was coming from. He started to wrap his wing delicately in a line of gauze, securing it tightly.

    "Okay, now I think that it's time that you get some more sleep before Dean comes back. He'll have medicine and some food too probably. Sound okay," inquired Sam.

    Castiel didn't appeared to be in any position to disagree even if he did. He let out an aggravated sound in the back of his throat that sounded between a grunt and moan. He coughed painfully, pressing his head against the back of the bed and closed his eyes.

    Sam slid from beside him and started to collect the used tissues on the floor, just like he did for Dean, and just like Dean always did for him. It was just like Castiel was part of the family and Sam enjoyed it. It was so nice to be part of a family again.

Notes:

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and are staying safe and healthy!

Chapter 6: Wings Were Made To Create A Bond

Summary:

Dean and Sam have their own unique ways of dealing with a sick and confused Castiel. Let’s just say he may like one more than the other.

Notes:

I’m back with just a little update. The fluff has been turned up in this chapter if that’s even possible. I just can’t seem to get away from it no matter how hard I try. But, I love any relationship between all three of them with Sam and Dean being caring toward Castiel. It’s also one of my favorite things to write. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

    The door opened and Sam looked up from his laptop. He closed the research that he was doing on angels, since none of it said anything useful about them, let alone if they could or how they got sick. All that he found was stories, but none of them held any truth in his opinion.

    "Sam, a little help here."

    "Oh, yeah!" Sam quickly jumped from the bed and came over to his brother to take one of the plastic bags from Dean. He set the one with the food on the table and pulled out a salad, soup, and a cheeseburger. Getting Castiel to eat anything would be difficult, but if anyone could do it, Dean could.

    Dean set the rest of the stuff on the bed and started taking out cold and cough medicine, softer tissues, juice, cough drops, and some more fever reducer. He turned to the sleeping Castiel and nodded slowly.

    "Should I wake him or should you," Dean asked with a small smile on his face.

    Sam sighed heavily. "Go ahead. Basically all he did was ask about you the entire time until he fell asleep. I'm sure that he doesn't want to see me waking him up," Sam replied as he started to break out the plastic silverware around the three places on the dining room table.

    Dean walked over to Castiel and saw him laying on his side, breathing congested. Dean had no idea how he was still sleeping and he almost didn't want to wake him. But, he had to get some food and fluids in him to help lower his fever and make him better.

    "Cas," Dean began as he grasped Castiel's shoulder and shook him gently. "Come on, Cas, wake up."

    Castiel mumbled to himself before he opened one eye that was partially crusted over with discharge. He suddenly sucked in a deep breath and Dean saw what was coming, He angled himself out of the way just in time for Castiel to unleash three wet sneezes.

    "Hetshshsh! Hetcshshs! HetCShshSHSH!”

    The last one produced an unbelievable amount of mucus and grace, and Dean couldn't help but jump even further out of the way. The blue grace gushed from his nose and streamed onto the comforter. Castiel moaned as he turned his head slightly to Dean for answers.

    "Oh, Cas," complained Dean as he pulled out about ten tissues, folded them, and pressed them against Castiel's hand. Castiel started to clean himself up as much as possible, but it was a lost cause after a while.

    Dean gave him more tissues to clean his nose with while he took to the comforter. It wasn't much better, but he was able to finish and then he nodded to Castiel with a small, forced smile. "Okay, come on. I think that I have something that might make you feel a little better."

    Castiel still looked guarded, but he allowed Dean to lead him toward the small table. He sat down and rubbed the tissues against his nose back and forth to try and alleviate the itch.

    "Cas, please don't do that at the table," Sam requested as he started to eat his salad.

    Castiel nodded as he sniffled, but didn't use the tissues. He looked at the soup that Dean put in front of him as well as the numerous medications that looked almost radioactive in color. Castiel couldn't help but grimace.

    "Something wrong? Not hungry," asked Dean as he sat beside him and took a massive bite out of his burger.

    Castiel shrugged. "I don't enjoy being sick."

    "No one does, but eating that will help," Dean told him as he pointed a finger at the soup. "I'm sure that you'll like it. You just have to try it, okay? That's all that I ask."

    Castiel nodded as he lifted the spoon filled with broth to his lips. He took a small sip before he licked his lips, savoring the flavor. He dipped it back in for more, this time taking a noodle and a chunk of chicken too. He ate about half of it before he sat back and rubbed a hand against his ticklish nose.

    "Steam will do that," Sam explained a little gentler than at the start of dinner.

    "I don't enjoy this sensation either," Castiel snapped in defeat.

    Dean chuckled as he gripped Castiel's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "No one does, but it's just what happens. Welcome to the wonderful world of sickness."

    Castiel sniffled once more, not understanding what made this so ‘wonderful’. He waited patiently as Dean grabbed the box of tissues and threw it to him. "Here. Blow your nose with these. They'll probably feel better than the other ones. Just don't do it at the table. Sammy hates when people do that."

    Castiel nodded as he scrambled backwards, lifting the softened tissue to his face and started to blow his nose before he stopped midblow and pitched forward.

    "Hetcshshssh!"

    His wing shot out and knocked the table harshly, sending whatever was on it flying. Dean sighed as he watched his burger land on the ground with his fries sprawled next to it. Ordinarily he would've eaten it anyway, but he had no idea what had happened on this floor and he didn't want to take any chances.

    "Well, there goes dinner," Dean huffed, trying to keep the frustration from his voice.

    Sam looked at his fallen salad and Castiel's bowl of half eaten soup that was now pooled on the floor. Sam glared at Dean, but Dean just shrugged him off. It wasn't his fault. In fact, it really wasn't anyone's fault. Castiel didn't do it on purpose.

    Castiel turned his head and looked at Dean, a stricken look in his now dull eyes. He folded his wings back against his body as tight as they possibly could in shame, his head bowed forward and nose running. "I'm so sorry."

    Dean put on his 'happy face' and walked over to his friend. He steered him to the bed with a hand on the small of his back, letting Sam to begin cleaning up their food. "It's okay, Cas. It's not your fault." He said this last part over his shoulder to Sam, who just huffed in annoyance as he started to clean up what Castiel had spilled with his wings.

    "I think I shouldn't move anymore," Castiel suggested as he looked at Dean.

    Dean waved him off. "Nah! You just need to watch where your wings are. I mean, you can see them all the time, right?" Castiel shot him an impatient look. "Right, of course you can. Anyway, just be careful. You don't have to stop moving."

    Sam muttered something along the lines of 'it would be safer for the rest of us if you didn’t', but Dean didn't pay him any mind. "Now, what do you say we get some medicine in ya?”

    "Will it help with angelic illnesses," Castiel inquired hopefully.

    Dean shrugged his shoulders. "That I'm not so sure about, but it will help with the coughing, fever, and congestion, and that's part of the battle. It more or less manages the symptoms, not take away the problem."

    "What a backwards way of healing," Castiel murmured as his eyes turned hazy and unfocused as he looked in Sam's general direction, but not quite at Sam.

    Dean palmed Castiel's forehead and the angel hardly moved. Dean stifled a groan as he helped him lay in the bed once more. He looked at the blue spot on the comforter that Castiel had sneezed on earlier and hoped that they wouldn't have a reoccurrence of it. But, Dean was able to accept the fact that the comforter and himself were in the line of fire.

    "Okay, this stuff is going to taste like ass, but you have to take it, okay," Dean asked as if he was speaking to a child.

    Castiel nodded slowly, beginning to pant heavily. He let out a small whimper, almost collapsing against Dean. Dean sighed as he allowed Castiel to press his head against his chest for the time being. He grabbed the tissues quickly and pressed them against Castiel's nose to try and contain the most recent attack that he knew were inbound.

    "Hetcshshs! Hetcshshs! Hetcshshs!"

    "You're okay," chided Dean soothingly as Castiel straightened and growled as his wings wretched out again. "We're practically used to that by now."

    "I'm sorry," Castiel apologized weakly. Embarrassment sounded in his hoarder than usual tone while he was unable to look up at Dean. His nose ran freely, tickling him more than he cared to admit. He hated seeming this weak and pathetic in front of anyone, let alone the Winchesters. It made him feel like less of an angel.

    "For what," Sam asked as he brought over the medicine and handed it over to his brother. "For killing our dinner, because that's not the worst thing that has happened to our food."

    Castiel lifted the tissue to rub at his nose pathetically. He felt like he was doing that a lot these days and his nose was completely chapped and painful to touch now, even with the new tissues. He just wanted this to be over. "For being such a burden."

    "You're not a burden! You've saved our lives more than we can count. Doing this for you is nothing," pointed out Dean as he handed Castiel more tissues since the ones that he had were pretty much useless. "You can repay us by trying to get better, alright?"

    Castiel gave a timid smile that pulled at the very corners of his mouth. He blinked his eyes up at Dean and Sam gratefully. "Thank you. For everything."

    "No problem," chided Dean as he started to pour the medicine into a small cup that came with the medicine and held it to Castiel's lips. Castiel sucked in the medicine and grimaced at the taste. Even only being able to taste the molecules didn’t make the liquid medicine taste any less horrid. Dean couldn't help but laugh. "I told you it's gross, but it'll make you sleep, which is what you need right now.”

    Castiel blinked his eyes a few times before he coughed wetly, more blue flying into the air. He began to his eyes, quickly opening them to look up at Dean, panic showing momentarily. "Stay for a little bit?"

    "Just for a little bit," Dean told him as he watched Sam chuckle and turn away from them. He grabbed his laptop and settled on his bed. Considering that they only had two beds and no couch, two of them were going to have to share a bed if they wanted to get any sleep.

     Castiel seemed to radiate waves of heat as he leaned against the back of the bed and closed his eyes tightly, curling almost into a fetal position. He started to drift off with snores sounded through the entire room. Dean looked over to Castiel, who was tucked under the covers with him laying on top of the covers.

    "Do you think that he'll be better soon," asked Sam, catching Dean by surprise.

    Dean rolled his eyes. "He better be or I'm going to loose it. But, I'm glad that he came to us when he was sick instead of trying to handle it on his own. He is basically a baby in a trench coat.”

    "And is that the entire reason that you’re glad he came to us," Sam pressed, interest shinning in his eyes.

    Dean looked away from his giddy brother. "No, it’s just that this means that he trusts us. We're family and this is what family does for one another."

Notes:

There will be one more update after this one. Thanks to everyone who has read this story and I hope you guys enjoyed! I hope you guys are staying safe and healthy!

Chapter 7: Wings Were Made To Inspire

Summary:

It’s only a matter of time before there’s not only a sick Castiel, but a sick Winchester to deal with as well.

Notes:

This will be the last part to this story. It has been a blast to write and I hope that you all have enjoyed. Thank you all for everyone who has read, left kudos, and comments. They mean the world to me and brighten my day when I see them. I hope you guys enjoy this part too!

    Castiel squirmed as the early morning light streamed through the blinds and lifted a hand to paw at his runny nose. "Hetcshshs! Hetcshshs!"

    Dean felt something hit his shoulder and the side of his head. He lifted a hand to rub at his ear, grunting as he rolled over to smile at Castiel. "Cas, awake so early?"

    "Not on purpose," he grumbled as he blinked the discharge from his eyes. "What time is it?"

    "Like seven in the morning or something," answered Dean as he looked at his cellphone. He closed it heavily, forcefully sitting up. He stretched out a hand and felt Castiel's cheek and then his forehead. He smiled when he didn’t feel nearly the amount of heat the angel had possessed the night before. He switched the back of his hand to both cheeks once again, just to make sure that it wasn’t a fluke. "Hey, no more fever. That's great! How do you feel?"

    "Better, "answered Castiel, his voice not nearly as rough as it had been. He was far from completely healed, but he seemed to be a little better. "A lot better."

    Dean beamed, relief sparking through him. "That's great to hear, Cas. I think that you should be right as rain in a few days. Then you can go back to doing whatever it is angels do in heaven."

    "They—“

    "I don't need to know what you do," Dean interrupted as he thumped Castiel slightly on the back. "How are your wings?"

    Castiel shrugged as he moved his shoulders around ever so slightly and Dean could tell that he was moving his wings around. "Alright," he replied with a small sigh. "A little tender, but nothing I can't handle."

    "Isn't that the truth," pointed out Dean as he laughed loudly.

    Suddenly, there was an intake of breath followed by a massive sneeze from the other bed.

    "HutcsHSSHhh! HetcsSHSHhh!"

    Dean and Castiel both jumped at the sound. They exchanged a glance before Dean turned and looked over at Sam. He frowned as he saw his brother covered up to his chin in the blankets and yet he was still shivering. His nose was slightly pink around the nostrils and his cheeks were flushed. Dean gritted his teeth together as he came over to his brother's side quietly

    He pressed a hand against his forehead and then his cheeks in turn with the back of his hands. He drew back and shook his head. "Awe, Sammy."

    "What's wrong," Castiel asked from his side of the bed, concern edging his voice.

    Dean glanced over to him. "Looks like your angelic illness is contagious," he pointed out with a small groan. "At least wings aren't going to sprout from his back or anything."

    Castiel didn't say anything as Dean grabbed the medicine on the counter as well as the thermometer. "Looks like I have two family members to take care of," he pointed out as he nudged Sam's shoulder to try and wake him up. "Come on, Sam. Wake up for me, kiddo."

    Sam groaned as he opened his eyes. He nearly fell back when he saw how close his brother was to him. "D'?"

    "Yeah, that's me," Dean told him as he turned on the thermometer after he wiped the edge on his t-shirt. "Now, come here. I need to take your temperature."

    Sam narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

    "Hetcshshs!"

    Dean was knocked forward and stumbled into Sam’s bed. After he composed himself, he turned to look at Castiel before he rolled his eyes and sat on the edge of Sam’s bed. "It's catching."

    Sam opened his mouth to ask what Dean meant, but Dean shoved the thermometer into Sam's mouth. Sam gagged a bit as Dean fished it under his tongue. He sighed heavily as he waited for it to beep. Once it did, he pulled it out and read the small display, frowning.

    "101.7. Yep, you know my rule. You're going to need to stay in bed for a while, both of you so that I can keep an eye on you," Dean told Sam as he grabbed the medicine and started to pour some in a spoon that he had left on the table. He had done that for Castiel in the morning, but it appeared that Sam might need it more right now.

    Sam rolled his eyes as he sat up in bed, hair tousled and chest heaving with coughs. He used his fingers to thread them through his long hair in an effort to calm it. "Dean, please—“

    "Uh huh. This is not how this is going to go," Dean argued as he tipped the spoon toward Sam's mouth.

    Sam drew away in agitation. "Dean, I said quit it!" He turned away before he snapped toward Dean. Dean stuck out a hand to steady him.

    "HetSHshsh! HetcsSHSHSHhh! HetcsHshshh!"

    Dean jolted with his brother from the force of the sneezes and it was a miracle that he didn't spill the cold medicine. "Okay, you only sneeze in threes when you're sick. That means you are definitely sick and you're not going to get out of this, so open up."

    "Dean—“

    Dean shoved the spoon into his mouth like Sam was five and Sam swallowed. He gagged a bit until Dean pulled the spoon free from his mouth and Sam swatted at him in frustration. "What am I? Five?"

    "Hey, you said it not me," answered Dean as he raised his hands in the air in surrender.

    Sam rolled his eyes as he leaned back in bed, bringing the blanket up to his chin as he shivered. He always got high fevers when he was sick. It didn't matter if it was a small cold or a major flu.

    "Move over," Dean ordered as he climbed into bed besides Sam and allowed Sam to rest his head on his shoulder as he was overwhelmed by another full body shiver. He coughed painfully into a raised fist with his eyes squeezed shut.

    "Hetcshshs!"

    Dean looked over and saw Castiel laying on the side of the bed, facing them with his pillow pressed against his face. His eyes were bloodshot, his breathing labored, nose ruby red.

    Dean rolled his eyes as he stretched out his other arm. "Come on, you big angel baby."

    Castiel scrambled from his bed and walked on wobbly legs over to Sam and Dean. Castiel sat beside Dean and rested his head against the headboard like he did in the other bed. This time he just seemed more relaxed being close to both Sam and Dean.

    "How do I keep getting myself into these situations, Sammy," asked Dean as he looked to his brother since Castiel wasn't awake anymore.

    Sam coughed as he looked up at his brother. "By being my brother and his friend."

    "Yeah, I guess that would do it," Dean replied as he watched Sam yawn and snuggle against him, letting out a deep breath that signaled that he was falling asleep. "Looks like this is my life for the next few days."

    Dean may complain about it, but both of them were safe and resting and he could watch crappy motel TV for hours, just knowing that everyone that he cared about was beside him. All in all, he wouldn't have it any other way.

Notes:

And.....the inevitable happens with Sam coming down sick. It wouldn’t be their luck if at least one of them wouldn’t have come down with something, even if it wasn’t directly related to Cas. Anyway, I hope that you guys enjoyed this story and are staying safe and healthy!

Notes:

Poor Castiel. Things are only going to get worse for him, but rest assured that Dean and Sam will always be there to help!