Title: I need a doctor

Rating: T

Pairing: Future Destiel.

Co-written with: seven percent solution. Written on another site. If he has a fanfiction, I shall link you guys to the account.

Seven Percent is Castiel. I play write for Dean this time.

C H A P T E R - ONE

CASTIEL NOVAK

It had been a very quiet evening for Castiel so far. It was typical for the man to work in the E.R. on a daily basis, but every so often he served a night shift instead. There were no pressing matters at hand, which led the doctor to be seated in his office with East of Eden spread open atop his desk. He hadn't been reading it so much as skimming through the sentences, mild lost elsewhere. It wasn't that the man didn't enjoy reading; it was one of his favorite things to do. It was only that he was for some reason incapable of staying focused for the time being.

A soft vibration had stolen away his attention as the doctor leant back, pulling a sleek black cell phone from his pocket. For some reason, Castiel has always had problems with technology. Just small things of course, nothing that could threaten the position of his job. It always took him several days to get used to the little things entailed in a cell phone, and he could never really figure out the sound system in his own damn apartment. Sliding the device open, the brunette noticed that he received a text from his older brother Gabriel. It wasn't rare for him to text Castiel on a regular basis, asking him to go out for a drink or anything of the sort. He was a very outgoing person, and sometimes it was a little too much for the doctor to handle.

Castiel had always been more of the quiet type, keeping to himself rather than entertaining in a large crowd. Perhaps this is why he chose this as a career path, because while he deals with many people on a daily basis, most of them are unconscious. Bright blue eyes read over the text message again before he decided to respond, simply informing Gabriel that it was necessary for him to work late. You would think he would know Castiel's schedule by now.

Then again, Castiel wasn't exactly the main focus in his family. Not saying that he was neglected or anything of the sort, just that he had been different as a child, to say the least. His solitary lifestyle hadn't come from nowhere. It was difficult to maintain strong friendships as a kid when your family moved around frequently. Not to mention that many of the children his age were slightly skeptical about being friends with someone with a Minister as a father. Castiel was actually made fun of for this a great deal, along with the fact that he has always been on the slightly more scrawny side. Despite all of these factors, the doctor still maintains an average level of self-esteem and is not, as many people would say, a 'wuss'. His relationship with his father, however, has faltered. It has been some time since he or his brother has heard from the man, and truthfully, Castiel doesn't know where he could be to this day.

He used to spend quite some time looking for the man, but with questions unanswered and no sign of him for years, the young man gave up. If he really wanted to reach out to his family, he would do so. Castiel accepted that now.

Lifting a hand to run it through his already unruly hair, the brunette let out a heavy sigh and glanced towards the clock. It was nearing 11pm; something was bound to show up soon enough. Not that he wanted people getting injured; it was just... boring at this time of night.

Pulling himself off of his leather chair, Castiel stretched his arms out. It was about time to go and get a coffee from one of their staff rooms. Fatigue hadn't begun to kick in yet, but at least it would be something to get his mind stimulated. Leaving the still open novel on his desk, the doctor walked across the dim office and let himself into the hallway, bright lights and abnormally white walls obnoxiously welcoming him and his now pained vision.

Slowly and steadily making his way throughout the halls, the blue eyed man gave small smiles to those who required them. Surgeons who he had worked with over the years, patients he had helped earlier, or the odd female nurse who looked at him like he was something to be eaten. Those smiles were a lot more strained than the others.

It hadn't taken him long to make it into the room, occupied by the odd worker on his or her break, nursing a hot mug of coffee. The brew here actually wasn't half bad, and when no one was looking, Castiel didn't hold back on the sugar. He was more of a tea person, but the amount of caffeine in the coffee was necessary. On the other hand, he couldn't stand the bitterness. Drawing the cup away from his mouth after one satisfied sip of the warm beverage, the intercom came to life. 'Doctor Novak to the E.R. STAT'. Great, so he couldn't even enjoy the coffee he just made. Unable to do anything else with it, Castiel dumped the contents into a sink and placed the mug onto the rack of dirty dishes before hurriedly making his way down the still busy halls toward his destination.

There wasn't a large crowd once the doctor had made his way over, which immediately told the man that it wasn't anything too serious or life threatening. Inside, Castiel let out a sigh of relief. It always was reassuring that something could actually be done without worrying too much, or having a panicked family in the waiting room unsure of the news they could possibly hear.

Pulling out a pair of plastic gloves from one of the many dispensers located around the hospital, the doctor slipped them on while walking towards the stretcher with his new patient. It was a young man, probably close to the same age as himself. His eyes were closed and there was a fair amount of blood leaking from his head. "Poor guy got knocked up pretty bad," One of the ambulance drivers informed him as they switched possession of the stretcher to another nurse. "Name's Dean Winchester." The man continued, lifting up a wallet that presumably belonged to the man currently being wheeled into one of the nearest available rooms. "We'll run the cards for contact information while you get started." And with that, he was off. Castiel hadn't done anything except give a few nods of comprehension, wanting nothing more than to get to the patient in waiting.

Stepping into the room and over to the bed that Dean was currently on, Castiel reached out a hand to rest on the man's neck. He had a stable pulse, which was obvious from his mostly steady breathing, but it didn't hurt to be safe. The lacerations to his head were nothing very serious, so the doctor decided that checking for more severe symptoms would be the beneficial action. Placing both gloved hands on either side of the man's jaw, Castiel gently turned his head to the left, and then to the right. If there was bleeding from the ears it would be a much more serious issue, thus calling for a CT scan to check for bleeding inside the brain. No internal bleeding signs so far, so the doctor went to feeling down the back of Dean's neck, pressing gently along the spine to see if anything happened to be out of place.

It didn't take long for the man to finish the physical examination as well as cleaning and stitching up the wound to the back of the young man's head. After having the nurse bandage him up, Castiel pulled a chair beside the man's bed and looked intently on his features. There had been several other small scrapes on his face which had also been cleaned and tended to, probably from when he collided with the ground after the main blow. "If you can hear me, say so. Do not open your eyes yet." Castiel started, his gaze not wavering as he clasped his now un-gloved hands together. It was common for patients dealing with head injuries to be intolerable to bright lights and prone to dizziness. The brunette didn't want to risk this yet, figuring simple questions would work first to see if there were any amnesia problems. "Do you remember anything that happened?"

DEAN WINCHESTER

"Hey Winchester. We got a hit."

"That's fascinating, anything I actually care about?"

"Yeah. If it wasn't something this big, I wouldn't had told you. But I figured you'd want first dibs."

"On what?"

"Y.E.D."

Those simple little letters meant so much more than Dean could ever explain into words to anyone who didn't know or didn't understand what it felt like to loose everything thanks to one person. That one person had almost taken everything he had ever known from him. But he hadn't gotten his hands on the last thing he had in this world. Sammy. Dean would be damned before he let anything happen to his baby brother. With those three letters, Dean practically jumped up from his desk, grabbed his sidearm, placed it in the holster and took his blazer with him. As he exited his office, he put it smoothly over his button down.

"How do we know this is the real deal?" Truth be told, Dean was a little pissed that he hadn't been the one to make the crack in the case. But that was okay, he'd redeem himself by bringing the sonofabitch down and lock him up for once and for all. Though if it were up to Dean and if he had a shot. He'd fucking ram a knife straight through the bastard's heart.. if the dick had one. "You know how Hendricks thought about the chemicals Y.E.D. had been using? He crossed referenced the tests with what was sold in the area and only a few places carry the stuff. Said few places hadn't sold too many in a while. It took a while, but he found out where the guy's been staying. Which is where your headed. Don't go rushing in. Your going to need back-up."

But Dean wasn't listening. All he cared about was getting there and getting down to some business that had been very unfinished until now. Who was Y.E.D. and why did Dean want to bring this criminal in more than anything? The guy had killed his mother when he was only four. His father had become all consumed with hunting the nut down and practically devoted his life to tracking him down. His father had came close three times, only the third time was what had gotten him killed. Sam had warned him that he was closely following exactly the path that their father had taken. But Dean didn't care. He wanted justice. He needed this vengeance. Sam had once made a joke about him being Batman. Dean took it as a compliment. He took the location down mentally and got into his impala and drove off in the location. Normally he only used his impala on stake outs or when he was undercover. But he needed his baby here with him. Needed to feel like he wasn't alone.

Also to answer the question that's probably been on your mind. What the hell does Y.E.D. mean? It was just the easiest way of talking about the Yellow eyed Demon. People who had saw him only claimed to see his eyes reflected in the flames, appearing yellow before he fled the scene. Everyone knew that pyro-maniac freaks liked to watch the things they set on fire burn before leaving. Sick asses probably got their rocks off or something. Regardless, Dean took getting to the location quickly. It was a rundown warehouse building. Why wasn't Dean surprised? Place could of been a graveyard and Dean would of found the picture fitting. He took out his firearm, taking the safety off, cocking and loading it before stepping out of his beloved `67 chevy impala. He shut the door almost silently and then crept into the building.

He didn't even have a chance to use his gun.

It had happened all too fast.

But the funny thing was that in that moment, Dean hadn't had a care in the world about his own safety. No, in that moment, his own life hadn't even crossed his mind. In that moment, he was already blaming himself for letting the sonofabitch go free. Blaming himself that if he had just been faster. If he had fired a warning shot or even shot the dick in his leg. All these 'if's and buts'. But it was done and there was nothing he could do but welcome the darkness that over took his mind. Nothing to do but fall into the sweet oblivion and if he got a second chance. He'd stop at nothing to hunting the bastard that had taken everything from him. He felt the dripping wet slick of blood trek down from the wound before the world finally went blank.

Heaven?

Surely he had died. Right? He heard a voice speak out to him. It was rough around the edges. It could probably be only described as someone who gargled with gravel. Don't open his eyes? Why? He could see right? He felt a surge of panic come over his body and for one stubborn second, he thought about disobeying the voice and opening his eyes anyways. But the man spoke again. "Do you remember anything that happened?"

"Yeah, bastard got away... Been hunting that douche bag for far too long for this to happen." Dean's own voice sounded a little rough. His small southern drawl added in lightly. He peeked one eye opened and was met with an almost too overwhelming light. If he didn't know any better. He'd think the damn light would burn out his eye sockets. He flinched and shut his eyes, before testing it once more. Couldn't call him resilient for nothing. Brave too, but he was also a lot of other negative qualities too. But he didn't have time for self pity. Self pity wasn't going to stop the bad people in the world and it most certainly wasn't going to solve cases. He finally succeeded when the light was no normally brighter than what it should be. He blinked wearily. Emerald colored eyes glanced around and took in his surrounding. He finally looked towards the location of the voice and his eyes found the most astounding blue color he had ever seen. Could the dude's eyes be any more bluer? Probably.

"Thanks.. for saving me." He surprised himself. Usually when a doctor patched him up he said so. 'thanks for patching me up doc.' then he was out the door and onto the next thing that needed to be done. But something had him bound. He noticed he was still looking. He felt stupid, he glanced away, feeling the need to disconnect. He usually wasn't one for eye contact unless he was interviewing or interrogating a witness/suspect. He found himself sitting on a bed, he sat up, trying to get back his strength. He let out a sigh of discomfort and pain. Nothing too out of the ordinary. He worked some tough cases sometimes, but anything was better than getting stabbed or worse... shot.

People... people were fucking crazy. People that did things that monsters did confused him to no end. What made these people go down this path and do the things they did? He just didn't know what made them decided to go into town and take the life of a loving family away. He shook himself from his haunted mind and glanced towards the doctor once more. He finally took in the man's appearance more than just the eyes and noticed he looked familiar. Dean licked his dry lips for more than one reason. The first, well, duh they were frigging drier than the damn desert during summer. The second was because damn. Dean wasn't usually one to check out a dude, maybe once in a great while. But this guy was nice to look at. As far as doing something with him?

That was totally against the Dean Winchester style of living. He didn't do dudes. Looking was one thing but actually doing something about it? No, he liked boobs and how soft their curves were. Although lately he hadn't had time to go out to a bar for more than just getting a couple of beers. Dating had never been his thing. He was terrible at trying to be in a relationship. His job didn't help either with the commanding work schedule. Most chicks couldn't handle it and didn't stick around long enough to try. So Dean shut himself off to such advances when it became more than just a one night stand. But don't worry, Dean Winchester wasn't so far down the drain of being a man-whore. To be honest he had only slept with a total of twelve women. Two had hurt him in the past, the rest were mindless sex when he felt the urge to scratch the itch.

Regardless, as he sat there in the bed. He couldn't believe how fast it had happened. It was like the bastard knew he was coming. But the biggest question was why didn't the guy do anything? Why didn't he kill him? Thinking back to it. He could of sworn he had heard the guy's voice mocking him before he blacked out. What had he said? 'Unfinished business, that's what I got. I think it's time I paid a visit to all my children. See if they've been behaving. Oh and we mustn't forget your brother. He was the first. My favorite.' Oh God. Sammy. His brother was in danger. He had to warn him. Dean jumped off of the bed a little too fast for his body's comfort and he shot a hand out to steady himself. "Where's my stuff? I gotta call Sammy. I gotta know that he's okay. You can help me right?" It was strange and almost forlorn of Dean to ask a stranger for help.

CASTIEL NOVAK

Listening to the man's first words, something had immediately clicked in his mind. He was a detective or something of the sort for the local bureau. That's why Dean had seemed so familiar at first glance. It most definitely wasn't uncommon for those on the force to come into the hospital, whether the treatment was needed for them, victims, or injured offenders they had just caught. To be perfectly honest, Castiel was a little shocked he had not worked on this man sooner. The amount of times he's been seen in this hospital sporting minor injuries was immeasurable. He seemed like one of the more reckless types.

"I'm Doctor Novak, but you may call me Castiel if you prefer it." The doctor decided against continuing the conversation regarding the man who had gotten away. It would probably only cause unnecessary further admissions of guilt, and Castiel couldn't have that. He always placed lots of care into his patients, with a full recovery as his number one priority. But then again, which medical man didn't?

The corners of Castiel's dry lips had been slightly pulled down into a frown once he noticed his patient fighting to open his eyes. The exposure most likely would create an ache in due time, so without a word, the brunette stood up and walked towards the light switch and control panel. There were no other people inside of the room, so dimming the lights would not cause any problems for others tending to injured subjects. The less intrusive lighting would allow better concentration, and if Dean was this persistent to open his eyes, it was the least he could do at the time being.

Sitting back down on the chair he had previously occupied, Castiel returned his hard gaze to the other. "It's my job." He spoke with a nod, which was his own way of saying 'you're welcome'.

Seeing the young man awake now almost made it seem as though he was a completely different person, no longer vulnerable and unconscious. His own blue eyes met Dean's bright green ones, and even as the other man looked away, Castiel continued to stare at him with interest. Many people had told the doctor before that he had a problem with staring for too long. Apparently it was far too invasive and made them uncomfortable. His eyes trailed along the man's features, taking in the facial structure. Castiel had always been one to take time and study someone to see their unique anatomy, but in this case, it was genuinely more interesting than it had been with others. His patient was indeed a very attractive man with all the correct physical characteristics that most people would crave for their own, there was no denying that.

Since Dean happened to be functioning fairly well after just recently waking up, the doctor didn't feel that a routine post-operation (if you could call it that) check-up was necessary. He would simply inform the other man what damage had been done and let him get on with further resting. He was then, quite suddenly, pulled from his thoughts as his patient practically leapt up out of the bed. Following his actions, Castiel swiftly stood from his seated position on the chair and rounded the bed, gently placing his hands on either of the taller male's shoulders. Pressing with a reasonable amount of force and seating the man back onto the edge of the bed, the doctor considered Dean's words.

"First of all, do not do that. You need your rest, and any unnecessarily rapid blood movement could be very painful." The brunette pulled his hands from his shoulders and switched his attention to the present emotion in Dean's features. The amount of worry he was feeling was obvious. Worry not for himself, but for another man named Sam. The lack of shock pertaining to his injuries was enough to tell Castiel that he had been in this situation multiple times before. Picking up his clipboard and telling the man how to look after a concussion would not be needed in this case, no matter how unprofessional that may be. He wanted to make his patient feel safe, and apparently the only way to help Dean feel this was to help him. With what exactly, Castiel was not sure, but he doubted it would be anything awful.

Turning momentarily, the doctor walked towards a long cabinet and poured two acetaminophen's into a small paper cup. Grabbing one of the many bottles of water they had on hand, he faced Dean once more and handed both items over. "Take those first." He spoke, motioning towards the two pills but not shifting his gaze from the other's face. "I'll be back in a moment."

Castiel couldn't say for sure, but for some reason it seemed as though he was being very lenient with this patient. If it was because of the young man's so called 'charm', he would have to pull himself together. A doctor is needed to focus on what is best for the patient's health, not whatever they desire at a moment's notice. Sighing, the blue eyed man pushed all thoughts to the back of his mind as he fetched Dean's belongings, praying that he had the decency and intelligence to stay put and ingest the pills that were administered.

All of his things had been packed neatly into a crisp white bag, now within Castiel's grip. Steadily walking back inside of the dim room, the doctor placed the bundle atop the bed and awkwardly kept his arms to his sides. "There are telephones in all patients' rooms," he began, stepping towards the white phone mounted on the wall. An extension was needed before any phone calls were made, one that only employees knew. That way they wouldn't have people constantly making phone calls, whether they be serious or not. Picking up the light receiver, Castiel punched in the three number code before holding it out for Dean to take. "I recommend you take your time if you need to."

DEAN WINCHESTER

The hands on his shoulders had thankfully been brief. When it came to touching, if he didn't know you or initiate it first, it usually wasn't welcome. It was a harsh and sad reality at just how messed up he was. The only person in his life that had ever really touched him had been his brother. Maybe he had truth issues, but it wasn't something he was going to dive into at the moment... or maybe never. Because he didn't tense nor stiffen up like he normally would. If anything, his body relaxed at the man's touch. His body was betraying what his mind shouted out as wrong. But it wasn't like the dude actually did anything wrong. If anything it was entirely professional.. right?

Castiel Novak.
If that didn't scream unusual name, he didn't know what did. He had heard that name before but not from someone talking about this man. No, it was something he read once while he studied some weird markings from an unsolved serial killer case from a few years ago. "The Angel of Thursday. Your father a priest or something?" Dean Winchester did not pry, not unless it was for work. So what made him such a chatty Kathy? He mentally shrugged it off. For some reason, this man had a presence about him that just made you talk. And not just spit lies about everything. No, something about his frigging eyes practically compelled you to tell the truth and all those girly emotions that Dean claimed he didn't have. If anything, it was beyond frustrating. Who was this stranger to get him to say these things?

He took the bottle of water from the doctor and the two pills, downing them without hesitation. He knew it would take a while for these stupid things to get working. Pain meds always took too long. What he really needed was some whiskey. Chasing down a couple of shots made a lot of the pain always go away far faster than pills ever did.

He glanced towards the phone, forgetting completely about the stranger in the midst and focused his mind on someone far more important. His brother. He grabbed the phone, thankful for it being a number he knew by heart. He dialed and waited...and waited. He hadn't realized he had been holding his breath until someone picked up. His exhale was filled with an abundant amount of relief. "Sammy?"
"Yeah, hey Dean, what's up?"
"Oh thank God, nothing weird has happened right? Everything's cool?"
"Yeah just great, remember how I just moved?" No. Because Dean knew for a fact that Sam has been living in the same place for two years now. The place he picked with Jessica because it was so close to his university. He would hardly move away and leave all that behind. It was a lie. "Yeah, I like it, it's a real funky town." Oh Shit. This was bad. Dean had developed a code word for when the shit had hit the fan. So he did the one thing he could do. He was probably on speaker phone and his brother was probably tied up. That was just the nicest theory he came up with. Dean didn't even want to try and fathom up what could really be happening to his brother.

"Great! Glad your enjoying everything. Um, well, I know this is going to sound weird. But if there's anything going on. Give me a call and I'll come down there. Okay? Even if you think someone's following you or something... just.. let me know, okay? Just be safe." Dean should of been an actor instead of tracking down bad guys because you couldn't even tell from five seconds ago that he was worried about his brother. His swagger and all his energy went into pretending. When he hung up, reality came back and Dean was exactly who he had been a couple of minutes ago. Fearing for his brother's safety. His jaw clenched in anger. Who was this sick sonofabitch to decide to go over his family? Why him? That bastard had already taken his mother and father from him. Dean would be damned to hell if he let him take his brother from him. He needed him, he glanced over towards Castiel and took in a deep breath. He needed to get to his brother before it was too late.

"So can you just sign whatever paper that lets me the hell out of this place? It's the matter of life and death of someone important to me. " Of course this situation wouldn't be presented to him had he taken care of the bastard when he had the chance. As he talked and thought about it, memories flicked back into his mind. He couldn't remember how it went down at first. But as he thought about it and dwell on it. They slowly came back in bits and pieces. He wished he could go back and do something differently. Killed him at least for fuck's sake.

Dean had swept into the building, pointing his specialized pistol. Ivory handle and silver finish. There was floral designs engraved on his gun, it had been his father's. There was no one in his line of sight, he walked through the dark abandoned building. The place was in bad shape, decaying left and right. He thought he heard movement and swung his gun to face in that direction. He took a couple of steps and before he could act something hit him. The gun flew out of his hands and slid away from his reach. He turned around towards where the attacker was. He saw his face for all of five seconds before he was struck once more. This time on his back. He fell to his knees. His vision felt like it was swimming. The pain, it had hurt. He heard footsteps and then a voice. "I've been keeping tabs on you Dean Winchester. Let me tell you, your not a disappointment. Almost makes me wish you were the one I had chosen. But your not, your brother is though. I'll let you live because I like you. I think I'll pay your brother a visit though..." He wasn't for sure what the exact words anymore. It was something along those lines.

He had been working off the adrenaline rush that now he was starting to feel the pain, both in his head and in his back. What had happened after that? That stupid voice did some more talking but Dean couldn't remember what and then he was struck in the head. The guy wasn't carrying anything was he? Shit, had he been kicked in the head? Or had he been thrown into the wall before he even got hit in the back? Hell if he could remember. Only time would tell. But first, he leaned against the wall and grimaced in pain. He probably had one hell of a bruise on his back. "Look.. Castiel, I need a bottle of what you just gave me and then I'm good to go. Just hurry it up. I... don't think I have much time." What, he was in the rush? Forgive him for being rude but it wasn't like the doctor would be coming with him... right?

Continue? Yes? No? Same as I stated before, this is not a threat or am I withholding chapters. If you guys like it, let me know so I can continue to post chapters. So review and let me know if you want more of this.