Author: Mistofstars

Pairing: Dean Winchester / Castiel

Warnings: language, sappy, romance, drama, slow build, smut, semi-canon until season 2, AU, hurt, comfort, waff, fluff, sportive activities (really, I mean the sport, as in -sport-, eww), terrible attempts of humour, medical terms (with explanations, don't worry) and possibly inaccuracies about doctor's stuff (though I did some research), UST within the first chapters, reciting poetry (gross! I know)

Disclaimer: Dean and Sam Winchester, as well as Castiel, John, Ash and Garth of Supernatural are not my invention – they belong to the writers and creators of Supernatural. No copyright infringement intended. I don't make money with this, all of it is made up.

Author's note: The title of this fic derives from the same-named song of Depeche Mode. I want to thank Faith-Valconbridge aka fvalconbridge for her endless patience and her support, her kind words whenever I moan about this story and bend her ears via Skype. Thanks a lot, hun! You should really check out her stories hehe... My absolute respect and infinite thanks goes as well to Angelpheonixwings14, who beta-read(s) some chapters and makes really helpful suggestions and corrections. Her input is worth a million, and I laugh a lot when she points out my mistakes and tries to shorten / save my terrible-lengthy sentences. I'll never get the hang of commas, and all remaining mistakes you will find are my obstinacy to fix them or simply my ignorance.

Poems recited so far: "I am not yours" by Sara Teasdale (chapter 5); "Touched by An Angel" by Maya Angelou (chapter 6); "To his coy mistress" by Andrew Marvell (chapter 9); "How Shall I woo thee?" by Paul Laurence Dunbar (chapter 9); "I know why the caged bird sings" by Maya Angelou (chapter 13); "Longing" by Sara Teasdale (chapter 18); songs recited in chapter 21: ZZ Top "Just got paid" and Bush "Letting the cables sleep"; song recited in chapter 27 "Amazing grace"

Chapters: 30 (with maybe 1 epilogue chapter as chapter 31)

Word count so far: ~ 150 000

Feedback?: Highly appreciated

Soft Touch / Raw Nerve

Chapter 1

It happened in the depths of a spring's Saturday night, in the middle of nowhere. Neither Sam nor Dean were prepared for such an incident, though they had made enough arrangements for the interrogation. As it became apparent they wouldn't get acceptable results, they expelled the demonic creature, and that was where it all went wrong.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas", Sam said, trying to speak distinctly. They were exorcising the umpteenth demon, and, as always, Dean was glad he didn't have to say the Latin words. He admitted they were useful, but whenever he spoke them, he thought his tongue would twist into a knot. With grim satisfaction he watched the woman's possessed body twitch, and the demon's black eyes stared at the Winchester brothers furiously. It wouldn't take long now, and she would return straight to hell. Dean looked around to make sure they were still alone; it was a starless night, and they were in between towns. Only green, thriving cornfields were around them. They had sprayed a devil's trap on the road to summon a demon to interrogate it – Dean wasn't even that frustrated anymore, when another demon refused to answer them their questions. She wasn't the first to deny them. He gnawed at his bottom lip as he watched Sam finishing his exorcism; he wondered, how much longer could they do that until their luck would run out? There was a fine line between interviewing a demon once and getting away with it, and interrogating a dozen and hoping they wouldn't draw too much attention.

This time, the exorcism didn't go as smoothly as they had planned; the ground was vibrating, and Dean could feel the asphalt crack underneath his boots. He furrowed his brows when he regarded the shaking demon, who was causing such a disturbance. He and Sam shared confused looks, and Sam shrugged his shoulders and continued speaking the last Latin words. With widened eyes, Dean saw the nearby tree at the roadside uprooting, and he held his breath as he wanted to warn Sam. It was too late; it all happened so damn quickly. He heard himself yell "Sam!", and in an instant, Dean lunged for him and threw him on the ground to rescue him from the falling tree. Then there was a terrible pain in Dean's right leg, and he screamed in agony, as a heavy weight came to rest on the backside of his calf. Sam lay underneath him, and Dean could hear a gasped "Dean!" coming from his younger brother. It was very strenuous to uplift his eyes and meet Sam's gaze; their eyes met through the night's bluish twilight, and Dean detected the concern in Sam's eyes. Above them, they recognized a familiar black fog, twirling in midair for a lengthy second. In awe, they observed the cloud of demon waft through the air, then it faded away with a swoosh.

Dean could concentrate on his body again, and he grunted and whimpered, full of suffering, as he tried to roll the tree trunk from his right calf. Inside of his right leg, there was already a horrendous, throbbing pain. It was piercing and it made Dean see white flashes of light in front of his eyes. He felt light-headed, overwhelmed with the ache coursing through his system. He gritted his teeth when Sam slid away underneath him and moved the fallen tree. Now that the weight was gone, the pain felt even worse. Dean cried out and cursed, as he carefully turned around to lie on his back. He and Sam shared worried looks, before Sam knelt down in front of him and pulled up Dean's pants leg carefully. Dean was writhing with so much pain, he couldn't even suppress the tortured sob when Sam gently touched his bare calf and examined it thoroughly.

"Move your leg", he ordered, and Dean tried to, but the limb didn't stir an inch. Frustrated he tried it again, and again, but nothing happened.

"Dean, I'm not a doctor, but I think you've got a tendon rupture. We gotta take you to a hospital", Sam said calmly. Dean cursed some more and hit the asphalt with a fist. Wrath boiled within him. If Sam was right, he would be knocked out for who-knew-how-long. It was an absolute no-go, now that they were trying to find the demon of whom they assumed had killed their father... Though their conversations with the last demons hadn't been too revealing, Dean felt they were drawing closer to the finish line. And now this had to happen! Dean was beyond embarrassed, when Sam had to help him up and as he hobbled to the Impala. Every movement hurt, the sharp pain seeming omnipresent. Sam gave him a sympathetic look as Dean leaned his forehead against the car's side window, a fierce expression veiling his features. Sam started the engine, and Dean was too focused on his maimed leg, that he didn't even complain once about Sam's style of driving.

The ride to the next hospital seemed to take forever, and the pain within Dean's calf was enhancing. He gritted his teeth and tried to take it like a man, but sometimes he couldn't help but whimper in agony. Sam made him inspect his leg with the light of his cell phone, and whenever Dean studied it with shaking fingers, he saw it was swelling and darkening with blood underneath the skin. Dean shook his head in disbelief, frustrated beyond imagination.

Dean barely understood the doctor, who scrutinized radiographs of his legs as he lay patiently on a litter. Sam sat on a nearby chair in the consulting room, listening to the older man's explanation. They had already given Dean some great morphine, and he was wearing a happy smirk on his lips. A wonderful dizziness lingered inside of his body, and he felt as if someone had wrapped him up in cotton wool. He didn't like hospitals, so the tranquillizers were much appreciated to make him oblivious to his surroundings. Only when he met Sam's worried look, he sobered up a little bit and frowned, as the doctor began to roll the stretcher. The dreadful, too bright light of the ceiling lamps blinded Dean, and he was searching frantically for Sam, as the doctor continued to push him along the corridor. He was talking to him with a calm voice, but Dean couldn't decipher the meaning of his words. Men and women in green scrubs appeared to both his sides, and realisation set in. Suddenly, Sam was at his side and squeezed his hand.

"You'll be fine, they just need to fix your tendon", Sam assured him. Then he was gone, and Dean was being rolled into an operating room. He was about to panic, because there was nothing he hated more than operations and being narcotised, but some asshole already injected him with anaesthetics. He wanted to protest, but his eyes already closed, and then, there was only emotionless darkness.

…

When Dean woke up, it was morning, and he felt incredibly cold and sore. His body shivered thanks to the side effect of the narcotics. He was a little bit nauseous and a little out of it. He had to blink several times to make out Sam's sleeping figure in a chair next to him; apparently, he had the luxury of a single bedroom. He examined his body, and when he pushed the blanket aside, he could see his right calf had been put in a cast. Great. Annoyed, he rolled his eyes and let out a groan. Whatever that meant, it wasn't promising any good news. He was trying to brace himself for week-long obstacles, especially with this monstrosity of a plaster cast sticking to his calf. His spirits weren't exactly raised, when the doctor entered his room, his patient record in his hand. He greeted Dean friendly, and Dean tried to feign a half-hearted smile. Sam was oblivious to the intruder and kept snoring lightly, educing an honest smile from Dean unknowingly.

"How are you feeling, Mister Winchester?", the doctor asked sternly, re-reading Dean's record with a frown. Dean wondered why he knew his real name, and if Sam was to blame for this. Usually they used false names and fake insurance cards.

"Alright, I guess", he answered, too flabbergasted to think clearly. The man's pale, blue eyes rested on Dean thoughtfully, worry lines joined the creases on his elderly face. He sighed and read Dean's record once more.

"Well, I won't sugarcoat it - we often see such accidents happen when it comes to loggers. I don't know why you were cutting down a tree at night, but whatever... Your Achilles tendon had been torn apart by that tree, and we had to sew it together last night. You won't be able to put weight on that leg for roughly 4 months. We have to immobilise the leg for about six weeks, but you'll have to start the physical therapy within the next few days, so that we can diminish the danger of thrombosis. We'll keep you here for today, just to make sure you're okay – tomorrow you will be released and transferred to a nearby rehab-center for the physiotherapy sessions during the next six weeks. Do you have any questions?"

Dean was so taken aback, he didn't even know where to start. At first, he had wanted to laugh, when the doctor thought he was a lumberjack (what the hell had Sam told them?), but the longer the doctor had spoken, the more upset Dean had felt. Six weeks immobilised! Four months being handicapped, probably attached to one locality! He had never been that sorely afflicted due to an injury. How was he supposed to heal and hunt demons at the same time? As it was, he was easy meat for any supernatural being, hell, he couldn't even run with this damn leg. Resentment rattled through his whole body. He was so grieved, he almost wanted to punch something.

"Mister Winchester?", the doctor asked carefully, as the silence in the room lingered for too long. Dean met his eyes again and tried to smile, though tears of anger were welling in his eyes. He gritted his teeth and nodded, brushing the tears of frustration briskly away with the back of his hand.

"Yeah, I'm fine. No questions."

The doctor smiled at him compassionately.

"Breakfast is at seven, lunch at one, dinner at six. I know it must be difficult for a young man like you to be confined to bed for weeks, but the rehab-center has some nice activities during each day, should you feel bored, and if you want some company, I bet you'll get to know other patients in the common room quickly."

Dean nodded once more and thanked the doctor for his kindness. When he left, Dean was able to feel the full extent of his devastation. They should have put him in a mental house straight away, there was no way he would endure his stay in a rehab clinic for six fucking weeks. Patience had never been one of his virtues, and he was already losing his mind.

...

"Dean, I'll be fine on my own!", Sam argued, once Dean had filled him in on his injury and the oncoming therapy program. Of course, Sam had suggested to proceed with the demon hunt on his own, as in without Dean, going against the grain for Dean naturally. There was no way he was letting his younger brother hunt all by himself. His whole life Dean had been looking out for him, and now that they were both grown-ups, they had gotten used to depending on each other. Sam would be too heedless. Something would happen to him, as soon as his awareness would go into hiatus, be it for just a second. He would die brutally and quickly on a lonesome road, or in a deserted barn, and Dean would never get wind of it. He hated that Sam could be so stubborn sometimes. He had had the same pig-headedness when he had left for Stanford University a few years ago.

"Sam, we're not having this conversation! You won't do the job alone, end of the story!", Dean yelled furiously, ignoring the bitchface Sam made. "Moreover, chances are that some demons will drop in for a visit. I mean, look at me, I'm a sitting duck. We have brighter conditions meeting a demon here than anywhere else."

For a while, both of them stilled and tried to calm themselves. During the years they had learnt it was sometimes necessary to shut up for a few minutes. Their eyes met, and Sam gave Dean a pensive look.

"What if no demon turns up? We could be wasting months here, Dean, to no avail. I know you're an overprotective son of a bitch, but you've got to trust in me. I can fend for myself; I'm not a kid anymore. You can call me anytime and I will let you know what I'm up to. And, no worries, before I leave I will secure the building of that rehab clinic, so that no demon can enter it. Bobby taught me the symbols."

No need to say that Dean was very unwilling to agree to Sam's suggestion.

"How the hell do you want to secure a frigging clinic? You can't paint weird symbols on the whole thing."

"Translucent colour, jerk!", Sam replied and stuck out his tongue, making Dean smile a tiny bit.

"You're such a smart ass, Sammy", Dean grinned and winced, when Sam shoved his shoulder playfully. It was still impossible to move a lot; Dean hadn't even noticed before how often his leg was involved in so many motions of his body.

"So, it's a done deal? You're letting me go out into the big, wide world?", Sam asked with a grin stuck all over his mouth. Dean scrutinized him for a few seconds, with, what he hoped, was an intimidating glare. He would never be able to withstand Sam's puppy dog eyes. He rolled his eyes and groaned annoyed.

"You will call every day, you hear me? Every fucking day. And if you get one damn scratch into the car, I'll behead you. Is that clear?"

Sam grinned broadly and nodded in agreement with Dean.

Sam had the decency to stay in Dean's hospital room for the day, though Dean suspected it was just because it gave Sam some pleasure to see Dean getting his syringes. Dean was almost too distracted by the busty nurse injecting him his medicine to glare at Sam's grinning face. She had dark hair, tanned skin, and a sporty figure. If all nurses in this hospital looked like this, he would have no difficulties to stay here for the rest of the day. However, he wasn't that fond of her anymore, when she ran the two syringes into his forearm indelicately.

"Ouch!", he complained, meeting her wicked smirk with a pout. She patted his arm soothingly.

"One for thrombosis prevention, and one antiphlogistic agent. It will help allaying the inflammation of your leg and keep your blood vessels widened. You better get used to it, Mister Winchester: May very well be that you'll get injections more often these days", she explained as sweet as sugar. Dean decided he didn't like her, and as she left the room with a wink, he crossed his arms over his chest and sulked.

"May very well be, Mister Winchester", he mimicked her in a high-pitched voice, making Sam laugh.

"Hey, Sasquatch. How come they have my real name? What were you thinking?", Dean asked sternly, not too enthusiastic about seeing Sam laugh so happily when he was glued to a bed for weeks. Sam sobered up and beheld Dean with an exhausted expression in his eyes.

"I don't know, Dean. I just thought it might be strenuous to lie about your name for weeks, I mean, what should I've told them? That your name is Jimmy Page? One day or other they would've realized the cover. So I just gave them your real name. Don't worry about the insurance, I'll pay for the rehab and send you money whenever you need it. Thanks to you my skills regarding pool have improved."

There it was again, the cheeky smirk of his younger brother, and Dean couldn't help but smile too.

"Yeah, I made sure of that. You sucked."

They killed the time of the remaining day with playing cards and bad television, intermingled with conversations about Sam's plans for his oncoming solo-hunt. Dean couldn't help but give Sam unnecessary lectures about what to keep in mind, how to check the tire pressure of the Impala, and so on and on, until Sam smacked his head and told him to shut up. Though it was only late afternoon, Dean felt tired at some point, and his calf started to throb again with indistinct pain. He couldn't even argue, when he noticed his eyes became heavy and that he started falling asleep, and Sam told him he'd be back tomorrow morning.

Some nurse woke Dean for dinner rudely, and as he sat up in bed, he realized Sam was gone. He grimaced at the hospital grub, some healthy sandwiches with cut vegetables – Sam would've rejoiced, but Dean nibbled listlessly at some carrots. Damn it, he was so hungry, he had no choice but to eat what was served. Sadly, he dreamt of cheeseburgers and fries, and, oh God, pie. He was almost certain he had to bid adieu to his favourite foods for a good while now.

TBC