One-shot about Castiel's thoughts after the episode "Head on a Pin." If you haven't seen it yet and don't want to be spoiled, don't read this! This is your only warning!

Otherwise, I hope you enjoy. Please read and review! : )

Disclaimer: Castiel (very very sadly) is not mine. Supernatural, alas, is also not mine.


Questions and Doubts

Castiel sat next to Dean's hospital bed, listening to the beeps of the machines and the slightly hissing of air from his oxygen tubes.

What do I do now?

He was afraid. He was full of doubt. His vessel's heart thundered in his chest, sensing the angel's anxiety. He had never experienced these feelings before. He didn't know what to do with them. He didn't want them. He wanted them to leave. He wanted to restore his faith and continue on like he always had in the last millennium.

But he couldn't. Not after what had happened.

Uriel. His brother. His trusted companion. Yes, it was true that Uriel hadn't always taken the same course of action Castiel would have. But that was just the way Uriel was. But he had been a commanding angel. The others in their garrison had always looked to Uriel as a source of strength and morale. He never waivered. He had always followed his commands.

How could he do this?

How could Uriel betray him? After everything they had been through. How could he turn away from their Father? How could he really think that bringing about the rise of Lucifer was the right course of action? How could he have actually believed Castiel would go along with such a plan?

"I only killed those who said no..."

Those who said no. Castiel closed his eyes and felt a tightening in his vessel's stomach. Uriel had murdered those who had said no.

So who had said yes?

What do I do now?

He needed guidance. He needed orders. That was only he had done for the last millennium; received orders and carried them out. That was what he did. That was all he knew. He was a soldier for his Father. His job was to carry out the orders he received from his Father.

But those orders came from someone higher. Someone else who would receive revelation. Never himself. And now he couldn't help but ask: who were the angels receiving revelation? Were they those who had agreed to help Uriel? How would he know? Who could be trusted?

Castiel never had thought of himself as particularly powerful. He was simply one of thousands and thousands of angels. One soldier lost amongst an entire army. He was no leader. He never knew what the plan was going to be, only what he needed to do to carry it out.

And he was failing.

His eyes traveled over to Dean's pale and battered form lying on the bed. The grief and torment that had been clear in his eyes had torn Castiel apart. Castiel had hoped that the full truth of Dean's involvement in all of this would never be fully revealed. He knew that Dean would never be able to forgive himself. It had been one of the reasons Castiel hadn't wanted to allow Dean to torture Alistair. He had known that eventually Alistair would tell Dean the truth. And the truth would break him.

And Castiel had allowed him to be broken. And he didn't know how to repair him.

He couldn't act without orders. He never had. He had saved Dean on an order. He had revealed himself to Dean on an order. He followed Dean's orders because it had been ordered. He protected Dean because it was an order.

He hadn't healed Pamela. That hadn't been an order. He hadn't even tried to save her because it hadn't been an order.

He couldn't heal Dean's soul. It had not been ordered.

He slowly closed his eyes, his body held rigid with tension as the confusion and doubt flooded through him.

He needed an order. Desperately.

Please tell me what to do.