Hello everyone!
Read and review please!~
This is one of those weird AU-ish things. They haven't met Castiel. He's human. You'll see...hopefully.
Off we go then!
Also... This is really short...The next chapters won't be this tiny! I swear!
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Dean was woken up by the scream.
Of course, he was in a sleazy hotel, there were loads of screams. But this was was different. It wasn't of joy or pleasure. It was of pain, and pure, unadulturated agony. It went right through Dean like a bolt of ice.
He got up out of bed. Sam was still asleep as he crept out of the room as fast as he could. He ran down the stairs. The scream had come from outside, and Dean didn't think he'd ever moved faster. He almost tripped down the stairs in his rush.
He threw open the door.
And a man was lying by the steps, curled up. A ruined, wrecked, bleeding man.
"Oh my God, are you okay?" the man jerked back.
"No...n-no more...!" he whimpered. Dean picked him up gently.
"I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm going to help you. Shhhhhh..." He scooped the man up in his arms, and he stiffened.
"It's okay. You're okay now..." the man looked at Dean with his big, blue, broken eyes, and Dean's heart ached for the poor man.
"No...please...!" the stranger's voice was rough, but faint. Dean carried him up the stairs, trying not to jostle him. He was worryingly light.
Dean set him on the bed as carefully as he could, then turned the lights on.
Sam rolled over on the adjacent bed, but stayed asleep, remarkably. The man winced. Dean rummaged in his bag for a first aid kit.
The man watched him warily as he found it and brought it over to him.
The man was tall, as tall as Dean, maybe a bit taller, but the stranger seemed to shrink into himself, looking like a terrified child. He stared at Dean again, and Dean was taken aback by just how distrustful he was. His eyes were guarded, but under the shield he built, he was /full/. Full of emotion. Of pain. Dean knew the look in the man's eyes well, he saw it every day in the mirror.
"Here. Where are you hurt? Can I...?" the man turned away, but after a few minutes, Dean crouched by his side of the bed and looked the man in the eyes.
"Look at my eyes. Will I hurt you?" the man shook his head.
"n-not my chest..." he finally murmured. Dean nodded and took off the stranger's trench coat and rolling up the bloodied sleeves.
He sucked in a sharp breath at the extent of the man's injuries. There were burns, and bruises, new and old, mixed with cuts and scars. Dean began to patch him up as best he could. The dark-haired stranger made no noise, didn't so much as whisper, as he was patched up.
"You okay for now? Do you need anything?" the Winchester asked, as soon as the wounds were somewhat cleaned and bandaged.
"No." the man stared intently at Dean. "T-thank you." Dean smiled sympathetically at him.
"no worries, I've had my fair share of injuries." the stranger shook his head vehemently.
"for this. Thank you. No...no one has ever... Helped me before...the most someone has done is give...give me a name." Dean's heart lurched, but he tried to look calm for the man.
"So what /is/ your name?"
" Castiel. My name is Castiel."
It was the most beautiful name Dean had ever heard.
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