A/N: You can take this as Destiel if you like, but if you don't ship them, you can ignore the hints. There are only a few minor curse words.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. Nor am I Eric Kripke. Also, I do not own an Impala or have a pair of wings. I do, however, own the plot of this story.

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"What the Hell were you thinking?!"

"I was thinking that since I had the chance to kill that demon, I should probably take it!" Sam yelled back.

Dean glares at the claw marks on his brother's arm. "Yeah. And as you were trying to gank that damn monster, it got you. That was a reckless move, man. It could've killed you!"

Sam rolls his eyes. "But it didn't." As Dean opens his mouth to retort, Sam continues on. "Would you stop treating me like a child? I can handle this stuff on my own!"

There is a whooshing sound as Castiel appears in the corner of the hotel room. He frowns, sizing up the situation. The Winchesters ignore him.

Dean steps forward, reaching out. "Just let me take care of your-"

Sam steps off to the side and Dean's hand misses; he lets it fall to his side. "I told you: I'm fine." He backs away.

Dean blocks his path. "Where are you going?"

"To get a drink and bandage up my arm," growls Sam. "Away from here." He brushes past his brother and storms out slamming the door behind him.

"That went well." Dean releases a tired sigh. He turns to face his guest. "What do you want, Cass?"

Castiel observes Dean for a moment, eyes narrowed as he tries to guess what his friend might be thinking. "I was hoping I could read through your notes; I believe I may have discovered a cursed object, but this particular item is… stranger than others. It is nothing like anything I have ever come across. I need to find a way to dispose of it."

Dean waves a hand at his backpack. "In there."

Castiel's trench coat flutters behind him as he crosses the room to the bag on the table. "Thank you," He unzips it and takes out the journal.

Deans rubs a hand across his face. He walks over to the bar top behind Castiel and retrieves a glass bottle of alcohol from the cabinet.

Castiel sifts through the papers, skimming them for information relating to his search. Suddenly, his breath hisses as he inhales out in pain.

Hearing the pained noise, Dean turns around in the middle of pouring some scotch into a glass. "You okay, Cass?"

The angel holds out his hand. "I seem to have cut my finger on the pages."

Sure enough, there is a slim cut down the side of Castiel's right pointer finger; dark red seeps slowly from it.

Dean takes a sip of his drink, then sets it down on the table. "Come on," he instructs his friend, walking to the bathroom.

Castiel obediently follows, holding his injured finger off to the side.

Dean opens the medicine cabinet and draws out a white plastic box. He sets it on the counter and begins riffling through it. Upon locating what he is searching for, he pulls out a bandage and sets it next to the sink. Dean turns on the faucet and puts Castiel's hand under the running water. He gestures for Castiel to wash his hands and the angel relents, a perplexed expression on his face.

Once he has dried his hands, Dean takes his finger again and applies some disinfectant cream to the cut, which is still bleeding slowly. He picks the bandage off the counter and wraps it around the injured finger.

When he releases Castiel's hand, the man glances at him. A dismayed look plays on his face. "What is this?"

"A band-aid."

"I realize that. What I mean is, why did you put it on my finger? I am an angel; the cut will heal shortly."

Dean shrugs, trying to remain nonchalant as he returns the first-aid kit to the medicine cabinet. "I'm used to cleaning up Sam's wounds, so I guess it's just an instinct for me. And now he won't let me and you hurt your hand, so… I just needed to…."

"But-"

"Just let me take care of you, Cass!"

Castiel falls silent, recalling the fight between the brothers he had stumbled into earlier.

Dean turns his eyes away, ashamed for losing his patience and yelling at his friend.

The truth is, Dean is upset; Sam had gotten hurt on Dean's watch, even though it was his job to protect his little brother. Then, to make matters worse. Sam had pushed him away when all he wanted to do was make thing better. It is not just that he is used to caring for Sam, as he had told Castiel—he needed to. He is always killing and fighting. Dean needs to be able to care for someone.

Castiel quietly murmurs something pulling Dean from his thoughts.

"What, Cass?"

"I said, okay."

"'Okay' what?"

"I will allow you to care for me." Castiel frowns down at the tan band around his finger. "Although I must say, I find this to be a strange tradition for humans as a way to express their caring for another."

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A/N: I am considering doing another chapter or two for this, showing how things are solved between Sam and Dean. Just let me know what you think and whether or not you'd like that. Comments and suggestions are always welcomed, just keep it civil. Thanks.