Face bloody and body aching, Dean held the pack of ice against his throbbing head, bringing the flask back up to his mouth, and taking another full swing from the metal container. He cocked his head back as the liquid coming from the small opening began to flow slower, pausing for a minute.
"I'm sorry, Dean," Castiel looked sadder than Dean had ever seen him. He always looked a bit like a kicked puppy in tough, emotional situations, but this was different. If Dean didn't know any better, he'd say that Castiel looked heart broken. The fluffy-winged angel, who had been standing at Dean's side since the spirited angel had gone down into Hell to