Oxygen. Dean's first awareness was his ability to breathe properly. The air around him was keeping him alive. He couldn't remember what happened, but he knew he should be dead. Touch came next. Dean was laying comfortably on a mattress with his head propped up on a pillow. He took a deep breath and flexed his fingers, just to make sure both of his hands were still there. They were. The pain lingered only in his memory.

Sight. Dean opened his eyes, blinded for a second by the sunlight pouring into the room. He was in his own bedroom, safe and sound. Nothing seemed to be different, but he was still disoriented. He brought his hand up to his face to rub his eyes.

The memories came back all at once and Dean was on his feet in a matter of seconds. He stumbled, head throbbing. The room was still spinning when he regained his balance. His face felt hot. His stomach dipped downward and then curved back in on itself.

Something glistened from his nightstand. Looking over, he saw his Demon-Killing knife sitting idly beside the alarm clock. The time was 09:37.

"Good morning, Dean."

His head snapped to the open door where Castiel stood, watching him carefully. Dean swallowed a lump in his throat, taking a step toward him.

"Cas?" His own voice startled him, it was so hoarse. He coughed into his elbow and cleared his throat. "Did you..."

"Yes, I healed you."

"What happened to werebear?"

"That creature no longer exists." Castiel paused. "I... Can't stay here long."

Dean crossed his arms. "That's it, huh?" he asked. "You only came back because I was too stupid to take care of myself."

Castiel squinted. "You are not stupid, Dean."

"I prayed to you, Cas."

"I heard."

"Well, you never showed." He uncrossed his arms. "You never told me – you could've said something. You could've told me you were okay."

"I'm here now."

Dean rolled his eyes, walking across the room until he was inches away from Castiel. He examined his face, searched those blue eyes. "Yeah," he said. "I see that."

Castiel furrowed his eyebrows, tilting his head. "You're angry."

Dean looked away.

"I don't understand," the angel said.

Dean raised his eyebrows, looking back at him. "Cas, you left in the middle of a conversation."

"I had something I needed to attend to. You didn't seem too worried."

"I didn't seem too worried?" Dean scoffed. "I prayed for you to come back."

Castiel stared at him. Dean stared right back. His guardian angel, the one person who knew him inside and out completely and fully, had to know the significance in that. Dean's faith had long since dissolved into nothing.

"Of course I know that, Dean. I did not mean to leave so suddenly, and I was in no position to leave my whereabouts simply to put your mind at ease," Castiel stated. "I was summoned back to Heaven."

"What?"

"There's been a lot of tension there lately. It was, as your people might say, an all hands on deck situation."

"Situation?"

Castiel nodded.

"Right. You're... You're okay, right?"

The look on the angel's face softened. "Yes, I am fine. But I am more concerned for you. You were close to dying."

"I can't believe a Tulpa almost killed me," he muttered, walking past Castiel and down the stairs. In the living room, the screen he'd been thrown through the previous night was sill on the floor. It was completely torn up and useless. Suddenly tensing, Dean looked behind him. He relaxed when he saw that Castiel was standing there. "Why didn't he die when we got rid of the source, anyway?" he asked, bending down to pick up the screen. Dean carelessly tossed the screen outside. He shut the sliding glass door and turned around.

Castiel was still there. "She must have told all of her friends about it," he said. "They all manifested it into reality."

"And you're sure I'm not going to get attacked in my own backyard again?"

"Not by the creation of Lucille, no." Castiel assured him. "But... I should inform you that the next time I leave I won't be back for a while."

Dean stared at him for a moment. He swallowed a lump in his throat. "Vacation?" he joked, forcing a smile.

Castiel frowned. "No."

"Right." Dean rubbed his palms against his jeans. "So what's going on, then? With your situation."

Castiel averted his gaze, rubbing the back of his neck. At first Dean thought that he was just going to disappear again without explaining anything to him. Then the angel slowly lifted his eyes to meet Dean's. "Heaven is undergoing an internal conflict at the moment." He lowered his arm back down. "I'm afraid this has been going on for much too long. I was summoned in to help assist my brothers. To put an end to this bloodshed."

"You were drafted," Dean stated.

"Simply put, yes."

Dean licked his lips. "Okay," he breathed out. "Okay. Go on, man. I don't want to keep you from your duties."

Castiel furrowed his eyebrows in concern. "You do come first, Dean. The moment you need me to return, I will do so as soon as I can." He paused. "I apologize for not doing so before."

Dean shook his head. "It's fine. Get back to your war, soldier."

Castiel frowned at him. "Dean..." He started, stepping into his personal space. Their eyes are leveled with each others' and Dean licked his lips. "I am your guardian angel. And your friend."

Dean flashed him a grin. "I know." He pulled Castiel into a hug, and was pleasantly surprised to feel him hug back almost immediately. Taking a deep breath, Dean pulled away. He squeezed the angel's shoulders. "Enough of these chick flick moments now, Cas." He let his arms fall back to his sides.

"I will come back."

"I know."

"Goodbye, Dean."

"Bye, Cas."

And just like that, the angel was gone again. Dean leaned against the arm of his couch, staring at where Castiel had previously been.

⛥⛥⛥⛥⛥

Dean could feel his phone vibrating from the pocket of his jeans while he served a customer. He wasn't in a rush to answer it, so he hadn't even bothered to glance at the caller ID. After the other night, after Castiel left, after he'd finally fallen asleep, he dreamed. He dreamed of his guardian angel, standing beside him like a warrior. In that dream, they hunted together. They saved people, like Dean used to, like Castiel never quite got to before. Then Castiel – the real Castiel – showed up, spouting something about this not being his real wish. Something about how Dean wanted – needed to move on and continue down a more domestic path. Dean didn't get it, didn't care enough to ask any questions. Right then, Castiel was asking him to do something and he'd be damned if he were going to turn him down. Dean figured that a slow and domestic life meant he couldn't risk losing his job to answer a call while working.

He didn't look at his phone until his next break. One missed call from Sammy, no texts and no voicemails. It probably wasn't that important.

Dean called him back immediately.

"Dean," Sam answered. "How did it go? Did you get this Castiel of yours back?"

Taking a deep breath, Dean looked up. The sky, without any clouds in sight, almost blinded him. He had to squint against it. "Yeah, he came back," Dean said. He frowned upwards. It was weird, knowing that Castiel's eyes were a more prominent shade of blue than the sky. "But then he left again."

"Did you at least find out why he left in the first place?"

"There's some sort of war going on upstairs." Dean leveled his head, eyes shifting to the side. He watched a bird peck at the ground for crumbs. "Cas is a soldier. He's apart of it."

"A war?" Sam sounded interested. "What kind of war? Where's God in all of this?"

"Sam, all I know is that Heaven's caving in on itself."

There was a pause. Dean knew that Sam wanted to ask more questions, figure out more about the whole problem and expand his knowledge in any way he could... But he didn't. Instead, he cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry, Dean."

The bird flew away.

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Huh?"

"It's just – it really seemed like..." Sam paused. "Like you, uh, liked this guy."

"He's my guardian angel, Sammy," Dean emphasized.

"I don't know, Dean..."

"What? Are you trying to tell me that if you met your guardian angel, you wouldn't like him?"

"I don't really have a lot of great childhood memories," Sam said. "It kind of feels like my guardian angel was lazy."

"There was a war going on," Dean tried to explain.

"See, this is what I'm talking about. This isn't like you. You've never been so willing to defend a whole race of monsters like that."

"I'm not defending them. I know most angels are dicks, but Cas..." He licked his lips. "Cas is different. He's a weird, dorky little guy."

"This is what I'm talking about, Dean. You sound like a teenage girl."

"Shut your piehole, Sammy. It's not like you're any better. Remember those poems you wrote to your crush back in middle school?" He cleared his throat and said in a high pitched voice; "Oh, how you hang the sun in the sky. Oh, how sorry I am that my creepy face makes you cry."

"That's not at all how it went, jerk."

"Bitch."

Sam sighed. "Will I ever be able to meet him?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Dean, I spent my entire night looking up angel rituals instead of studying or, I don't know, sleeping . The least you could do is introduce me to the guy."

"You really want to meet him?"

"If he makes you this happy? Yeah."

"What are you talking about?"

"It just... sounds like you really care about him. It's a little off-putting."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Next time you're in Kansas I'll call him down here and we can all have a slumber party."

"Great."

"Paint each other's nails and have a pillow fight."

"Dean."

"Gotta go Sammy, break's over." Dean stated.

The last thing he heard on the other line was the sound of Sam sighing before Dean ended the call.