"Cas!" Sam grins as he opens the door. "Dean didn't say you were comin' over."
His smile grows as I walk into the dingy motel room. I look around at the stained yellow walls and mismatched furniture. "I'm sure he didn't say that because I didn't tell him I was."
He laughs, finding humor in something I don't understand, and walks lazily into the kitchen. I follow him, still fixated on the disgusting color of the walls. Where do all those stains come from? My thoughts are cut short when I hear a shout from the kitchen. Dean. My head snaps around just in time to see Sam pouring a brownish-yellow liquid over a crimson gash in Dean's upper arm.
"Don't be such a baby," Sam says in reply. Dean only scowls at him and tugs at his arm, trying to get a better look at the bubbling wound. He finally looks up and sees me standing there. "Oh, hey Cas," he says quickly, and goes back to inspecting his arm. "What happened?" I say, trying to hide my worry.
He looks up at my and grins. My stomach does a flip, a feeling I hadn't known till a few weeks ago, and I look down at my shoes. "Cas, I'm fine. It's not like I'm dying," he says in a mocking voice. "Again!" Sam choruses from another room. Dean scowls again, "Just ran into a family of Kitsunes this morning," he continues. "One son of a bitch nearly sliced my arm in half."
I walk over to him to get a better look. The skin around the gash is glowing bright red and there's a bit of bone visible in the deepest part of it. "Is.. is there anything I can do?" I say as I put my hand lightly on the skin just below the wound.
He jerks away suddenly. I pull away and back up a few steps. Dean's face turns bright red and his face is turned away.
"No," he says, more softly than I expected. But he is still turned away from me, his face blazing. I don't know what I did to make him angry. I try to brush it off, since I know humans are complex and confusing creatures, but it hurts. It hurts in a strange way. All I want to do is take away his pain but I can't. Not anymore. All healing powers I had left when I became human. All I have left is a vessel full of emotions I can't understand. Finally, Sam returns with a needle, string, and bandages, breaking the silence that has been building up.
"Cas, why don't you grab some burgers with us?" I don't know how he can talk about food as he is sewing up that gash. "Uh, yes, I would like to grab some hamburgers with you." I reply. They both laugh.
Dean flexes his arm, testing the new bandages, and something jumps up in my throat. I can feel the blood rushing to my face and I turn and face the wall, hoping they can't see. By the time I am breathing normally again, the kitchen has been cleared up and Sam is already at the door. Dean kicks his chair under the table and I watch, fixated, as he shrugs on his leather jacket and saunters to the door. As Sam tosses him the keys, Dean turns to me and smirks.
"You comin'?" I nod a quick yes and follow them out the door
Ceilings are strange. The bumps and indents from the paint are in no pattern whatsoever. Why are they even painted in the first place? I've been staring at this ceiling since Sam and Dean dropped me off at the motel they told me to stay at. That was approximately two hours and forty-seven minutes ago. My eyes are aching and tired, but I can't close them. Every time I do I see his green-hazel eyes in the rear-view mirror, bunched up at the corners from laughing at something Sam said, or him licking the mustard off his lips, or his hand bouncing on his knee to the beat of whatever song he was blasting from the Impala. I don't understand why I noticed these things, or why they make me get little bumps all over my skin, but I like it. No, I don't like it. I don't know. I just don't understand it and I know I won't understand it so now I'm staring at the ceiling. Three hours and three minutes. Three hours and four minutes. Three hours and…
"Cas? Cas! We gotta go!"
I'm standing in the middle of a street and there are shouts all around. How did I get here? Before I can focus on anything, something yanks my arm and starts dragging me along. I look up and see Dean. Well, I think it's Dean. The figure in front of me is blurred, but I swear it was his voice that I heard. I try to look around as he pulls me with him, yelling things that have no meaning to me, but I can't focus on anything. The screams and shouts get louder and Dean yells more commands I can't hear but that I know I should be understanding. Suddenly, I'm in a room. It's pure white and the screams are gone. Only a slight buzzing remains. Dean isn't pulling me around anymore. Rather, he is running around the room, screaming silently and pointing at things I can't see. He looks… terrified. I try to move towards him but my feet won't budge. All of the sudden, he is next to me. He's pulling my arm trying to get me to move, but I can't. He's screaming again but I can't hear him and the buzzing is getting louder and louder and then, it stops. Dean is a few yards away, now, hunched over. There is something wrong. My legs work again and I try to run to him, but, somehow, I'm not getting any closer. Dean looks up at me, and I see that his eyes are glazed over and he's grasping his stomach. He opens his hands and crimson red blood spills out, staining the pure white around him. He drops down onto his knees, staring at the liquid that is still gushing, and his face slowly turns white. He looks up at me again, his eyes brimming with tears, and says, with perfectly clarity, "Cas." He slumps to the floor, lifeless, and I realized that the screams are back again. But now, the screams are my own.
I'm back in my own room, my heart racing, staring at the same ceiling again. The screams and the white room and blood are all gone. I sit up and realize I have a cool sweat covering my face. What's wrong with my? Why does being human involve so much perspiration and dreaming? Suddenly, I remember. Dean. I hear the phone clatter to the ground as I grab my coat off the chair. I scramble to the floor to get it, flip open the top, hold down the "1" key like Dean told me to do if I needed him, and press the phone to my ear. Ringing… Ringing… Ringing… The strange sound goes on far too long before the other line is picked up.
"Cas?" Deans groggy voice sends a shiver of relief through me. This time I don't second guess the feeling. I think I understand. "Hello?" he says again, more awake this time.
"Dean…" I reply finally.
"God dammit, Cas, it's four in the morning! What do you…"
"Dean!"
"What?"
"Dean…"
"What, Cas?"
"I… I love you."
