Sam snuck back into Dean's hospital room with a brown McDonald's bag hidden under his jacket. The milkshake might do Dean's throat some good, and the bugger would go some way in staving off his cabin fever. His doctor had refused to even consider the possibility of letting Dean check out any time soon, and whilst they had been happy to skip town before granted shore leave in the past, Sam was reluctant to do so this time. Not whilst Dean was looking like he was made up of spun sugar and glass, held together by air and fractured faith. "Hey." Dean was staring at his hands, and didn't respond. Sam had left him under the watchful eye of his personal angel, and by the look of things, Castiel hadn't been able to bring Dean any more comfort than Sam had. "Extra large. Cheese, no lettuce." He nodded to the angel, and passed Dean the greasy bag. Dean didn't look at him, but toyed with the paper. Eventually he opened it, and plucked out a napkin with Sam's messy scrawl covering one side.

Sam took a seat at the end of the bed as Dean's eyebrow rose on his battered face. So far his brother had not spoken a word to him, a lifetime of knowing Dean spelling out his thoughts clear on his face. "Nurse Betty's phone number." Sam explained with a hopeful grin. Dean's nurse was young, lithe and blonde - exactly Dean's type.

Sam's smile fell when Dean just nodded and went back to looking at his hands, burger untouched.

"You need to eat something, Dean." Castiel spoke for Sam, voicing the thoughts that would have only sounded like a reprimand had Sam spoken them.

He still wasn't sure what to make of Castiel. He was pissed at him. Really pissed at him. Dean was here, like this, looking more broken than ever because Castiel had willingly thrown him back into the Hell he had saved Dean from.

Dean ignored him completely.

Sam was surprised to see the angel look perplexed, perhaps even hurt.

Castiel went to speak again, and Sam, knowing his brother better than any angel could, shook his head.

Castiel fell silent. Since Sam had killed Alastair, since Dean had been left like this, the two of them had come to an uneasy truce, accepting, for the moment, that Dean needed to be the focus of their efforts.

"So I spoke to your doctor." Sam tried a topic that might bring Dean around. "A couple of days and you'll be as good as new." That was a lie of course. Dean was beyond tarnished now.

Dean shrugged and fiddled with the wrapper of the burger. Sam didn't know how to deal with him. This was the Dean he had been preparing himself to face ever since the Deal had come due. Between drinking himself stupid, and all that had gone down with Ruby, Sam had spent hours poured over websites that focused on PTSD. He'd prepared himself for a broken Dean. He'd been ready to handle a brother who needed round the clock supervision. Once Sam had busted him out, Sam had been prepared for anything. Only he hadn't freed Dean, Castiel had, and for months, Sam had been living with a man who looked, spoke, and acted like Dean. He'd been given his brother back, and he stood to lose him again.

"I'm sorry."

The word was so quiet, Sam thought he had missed it. "What, Dean?"

Castiel remained in the seat besides the bed, his face compassionate, his fingers curled in the cuffs of his jacket, as if he wanted to reach out and offer comfort.

Sam wrapped his hand around Dean's ankle. That task was his.

Dean still didn't look at him. "I'm sorry."

Sam shook his head. "Dean, you've got nothing to be sorry about." He shot Castiel a look that would have been downright confrontational had they been in any other place. Dean had been kidnapped and forced back into his worst nightmare by the people who were supposed to watch over and protect him. "You did nothing wrong. Alastair-"

"It is my fault." Dean whispered, fingers curling and uncurling helplessly. He could barely move his neck, his throat black with the stain of Alastair's fingers, and Sam was truly terrified to think on all that the demon had done to his brother. "The Seals, Lillith, Pamela, you." Dean shook his head. His voice was rough, pained, and Sam held out the milkshake for him, fingers curling around Dean's pale hands.

"What are you talking about?" He looked to Castiel, who stared back blankly. "Alastair is dead, okay? Whatever he said to you, whatever he did to you..."

If Dean would just look at him, Sam could maybe reach him.

Dean wouldn't. "If I'd have been stronger...if I'd have held out."

Castiel leaned forwards and finally laid his hand on Dean's arm. "You had no hope of withstanding what they did to you, Dean. Hell's only goal was to break you. The blame is not yours to shoulder. A righteous man will fall seven times, and rise again after each defeat. "

"Proverbs." Sam nodded, not really following the angel's point.

Dean snorted, low and bitter, finally turning to look at Sam. His eyes were so bleak, so dark, they almost looked empty.

"Don't talk to me about righteous men." He said brokenly.

"You are righteous, Dean. And unlike my kind, when you fall, it is not a sin. You climb up again. You have to climb up again, Dean."

Sam got the feeling he was missing something. Whatever had happened in that room had broken what was left of Dean, leaving behind only ash.

"I can't."

"You must."

And just like that, Castiel was gone.

Dean closed his eyes.

"Maybe you should get some sleep?" Sam suggested, to keep himself from forcing Dean to tell him what was going on.

Dean swallowed. Sam could see the fear in his eyes as clear as day.

With Ruby's blood still flowing thick in his veins, Sam reached out and touched Dean's bruised face. "Sleep, Dean." Sam whispered. "I won't leave you."

Time was when Dean would have scoffed at the words, but his brother clutched at them like a drowning man, falling away into his dreams.

Dean slept, and again, Sam was forced to watch as his brother was taken away from him, left at the mercy of a monster neither Death, nor Sam, could save him from.