Broken, a Destiel Story

Part 13

"How does it feel?" Dean asked almost an hour later, when he was sure he'd scraped off every last inch of blood. His hand was aching, and his throat was sore because he hadn't stopped singing the entire time, but he would have done it for twice as long if it brought Castiel comfort.

"Sore," Cas said, still resting on his stomach. "But, better, over all."

"Do you want to rest now? Or get the sling back on?" Dean asked.

"Better get the sling back on," Castiel decided. "Then, definitely rest." He pushed himself up and climbed out of the bed, and Dean helped him with the sling once again. Castiel was so appreciative of Dean's kindness, and his patience. He wished he could form the words to let Dean know how much he meant to him. But all he could manage was, "Thank you, Dean."

"Get some rest," Dean said, picking up the bucket of bloody water and the rag. "l'll be back to check on you later."

Cas nodded and climbed back into bed, pulling the blankets up and covering his wings and bare chest. Within minutes he was fast asleep.

He woke up the next morning feeling much better rested and in less pain than he'd been in for a long time. He sat up and pulled the blankets away, then yawned and stretched his left wing and arms at the same time. God, if felt good to have the sticky, dry blood gone and to feel like he could stretch each feather as he needed to. Feathers that had been torn, burned, or shredded were slowly growing back, making him feel whole again. He was still waiting for the break in the right wing to heal but that would happen in time.

As he made his way towards the door he saw that Dean's blankets and pillow were still on the floor next to the bed. Had he slept there again? If so he wasn't there now.

He grabbed his trench coat and slipped it on over his wings. He was tired of walking around half naked. The bends of his wings stuck out over the collar quite a bit, and their tips fell several inches below the coat. It felt snug with his wings inside and didn't close in the front due to the bulk, but at least it was something, and it provided more comfort than he expected it to.

He walked out into the main room of the bunker calling for Sam and Dean but heard nothing, so he made his way to the kitchen. No one was there either.

Then Castiel had an idea. Dean and Sam had both done so much for him lately, and he wanted to do something for them. So he decided to make them some breakfast. He'd never done it before but how hard could it be to whip up some bacon and eggs?

*********

"Woah," Dean said, walking into the kitchen. His eyes went wide at the huge mess all over the counters and stove, and the angel in the middle of it all, looking confused and frustrated, but also embarrassed.

"Cas, what happened?" he asked. "Did the kitchen explode on you or something?" There were dirty pots and pans everywhere, broken eggs and pancake batter on the counter and floor and the smell of burned bacon in the air.

"I, uh, was trying to make breakfast," Cas said glumly. "For you and Sam. It didn't work out like I'd hoped, clearly." He looked around at the huge mess he'd made. "I'm sorry, Dean. I know it's a mess. I'll clean it up." He started piling dishes next the sink and grabbed a washcloth, but then he felt the hunter's warm breath on his neck and a hand reached over and took the rag from his. He noticed that he didn't flinch even with the hunter so close to him. He turned to face Dean and came closer to his face than he'd anticipated. He stepped back a little, flustered and he was sure Dean noticed him blushing.

"Dean, please, I want to clean this myself. It's my mess. You have done enough," he insisted.

"Why don't we clean it together?" Dean suggested. He grabbed a towel and tossed it to Cas. "I'll wash, you dry." He couldn't help but notice Castiel's new "look." Trench coat on over his wings, and his black dress pants as always, but still no shirt. He couldn't decide if the angle looked dorky or sexy as hell, or maybe a little bit of both.