Draw It Out
Chapter One
Not sure where this is going, but enjoy the destiel/sabriel feels! C:
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It was Dean's fault, really.
He'd been the one who'd neglected to do the research properly like Sam had asked him, and had lied so he didn't look like an idiot and said it was a ghost they were dealing with.
So the boys had gone in armed with salt rounds and iron, Sam with that do-gooder determined look on his face and Dean with a qeasy feeling in his stomach. And the "ghost" had rushed at them, reaching out with scabby hands that went right through their chests, seized something inside them, and clenched painfully. Sam gasped for breath, and Dean's head throbbed like someone was trying to pound a rusty nail into it.
And then, it was gone, and they were alone. Sam turned to Dean, panting, one eyebrow raised.
"Well, that definitely wasn't a ghost."
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"Yeah." Dean paused, listening. "Okay Bobby, thanks anyway. Let us know if you hear anything." Pause. "Okay, bye." He sat down heavily at the small table in the motel room, putting a hand to his head and groaning. From the bed, Sam opened one eye to look at him.
"I'm gonna take a wild guess and say he didn't-" The younger Winchester broke off, coughing. "... Didn't know anything?"
"Nope, he said he'd keep his ear to the ground though. Man, I've never felt this bad before." Dean groaned again and got up, throwing himself down on the twin bed a foot away from Sam's.
"No kidding. It must be some sort of demon sickness, or something... I should do some research." Sam tried to get up, but fell back onto the bed again, wheezing in a dry, raspy sort of way that scared Dean more than he let on. His older brother instincts kicked in and he did the only thing he could think of.
Ask for help.
"Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray for Castiel to get his feathery butt down here and help us!" A flutter of wings, a flicker of lights, and the angel stood at the foot of Dean's bed.
"Yes, Dean? What do you-?" He broke off suddenly, tilting his head to the side.
"Cas?" Sam asked cautiously. He got no answer.
The angel of the lord approached Dean silently, staring into his eyes intensely. And then he did something that under normal circumstances, Sam probably would have found hilarious.
Castiel leaned forward and sniffed Dean.
And then he was gone.
Dean turned to Sam, looking thoroughly confused. "Well. That was weird."
Sam opened his mouth to reply, but instead started coughing violently again. He sat up and leant back on the headboard, trying to breathe. Dean immediately grabbed his brother's shoulder in concern.
"You okay Sammy?"
"What does it look like, Dean?" Sam snapped back, annoyed. If it wasn't for Dean, this wouldn't have happened after all. Dean raised his hands in an "I surrender" gesture, and layed back down again, fingers immediately going to his head to rub his temples.
"Well, well, well, looks like the chuckleheads have gotten themselves into a very sticky situation." Sam groaned in annoyance as a very familiar, annoying voice filled the room.
"Damnit, Cas!"
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"So we have, what, hunter flu?" Sam asked, incredulous. Gabriel smirked and nodded.
"Yep." He popped the p. "Well, any human can get it, but these demons will only pass it if they feel threatened or attacked, so." The archangel shrugged, looking secretly pleased. Dean turned to Cas instead.
"So what're we supposed to do about it? Will we die?" He demanded, looking worried. His whole body ached, and he felt the sickness in his bones.
"No, Dean. You will not die." Castiel sighed heavily, his gravelly tone of voice dropping an octave in his seriousness. "Unfortunately, there is no cure for it. Nor can Gabriel or I cure you of it. You just have to... ride it out. In this way, it is much like the common cold."
Dean groaned for what seemed like the fiftieth time that day and flopped back, swearing loudly as he banged his already pounding head against the headboard. Gabriel sniggered and the older Winchester shot him a death glare.
"Look, you feathery piece of crap-"
"Oh shut it. What're you gonna do, cough on me?"
"Bite me!"
"With pleasure."
"Guys, stop!" Sam squeezed his eyes shut, feeling a headache rising that had nothing to do with the sickness. "I can't deal with your arguing while I feel like this. Please."
Gabriel hummed thoughtfully. "Alright, I think I know of a solution that will appease everybody." He snapped his fingers.
Sam blinked, and found himself in a much larger hotel room, with a bigger bed, full kitchen area, and a view. Castiel and Dean were nowhere insight. Gabriel, however, sat cross-legged at the end of his bed, grinning in that sardonic, self-satisfied way of his.
"What did you do?" Sam demanded, a little worried.
The archangel rolled his eyes. "Relax Samsquatch, they're next door. I just thought it would be easier to keep you two seperate, so you don't rip each other's heads off. Looks like Castiel and I are gonna have to take care of you until this passes. And since Dean wants to rip my throat out..." He shrugged and grinned. "You're stuck with me."
Sam grunted in annoyance. "Oh joy of joys, I'm helpless and relying on a sadistic archangel. Yay." Suddenly, Gabriel's voice was right at his ear, making him shiver slightly.
"It's best not to be sarcastic to the sadistic archangel you're dependent on. He might just... take advantage of you."
Sam turned to snap a retort, but Gabriel was gone.
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Dean ran a hand over his short hair, before leaning back to survey the situation. Nice room, comfy bed, HD tv. He grinned. So much better than the crappy motel room he'd been trapped in before.
"Thanks Gabriel!" He shouted happily, all previous anger gone, while Cas stood awkwardly and watched him.
"There's no need to shout, you know. I can transmit what you're saying through the 'angel radio.'" Castiel looked thoroughly uncomfortable, as if he didn't know what to do with himself.
"You can't get this sickness, right?" Dean asked curiously. Castiel shook his head.
"No, Dean, angels are immune to all illness." Grinning again, Dean patted the spot on the bed next to him.
"Well then, you don't need to stand over there! Watch tv with me." Hesitantly, Cas sat on the edge of the bed. Dean flicked on the huge tv, and Cas secretly thought the older Winchester might split a lip from how big his grin was.
"Dr. Sexy MD is on! This is like, my favorite show, man." Dean animatedly began explaining the plotline of the soap to Castiel, who listened gravely, as if it were of dire importance.
The Trickster grinned like the Cheshire cat as he watched them, all michief and secret plans.
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That's all for now folks! Hope you enjoyed this, let me know what you wanna see, if you liked it, etc C:
reviews are my inspiration! cheers!